The Next Ship Home by Heather Webb

Author:Heather Webb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2022-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

27

Francesca followed Charles upstairs and through the foyer of the Lancasters’ home. She wondered which dish had offended the mistress. She had taken a risk with the crab-stuffed eggs, but she thought it a good one. Apparently not. Her stomach knotted as they entered the grand dining room, a place where she didn’t belong. Pale light streamed through the windows, making the gauzy drapes appear almost ethereal, and the crystal on the table beamed broken rainbows across the tablecloth. A fire roared on the opposite wall, its crackling and hissing like a conversation in the otherwise silent room. When she caught sight of the Lancasters seated at their elegant table, she carefully concealed her fear.

The matriarch of the house sat at the head of the table, resplendent in a bustled gown of deep jewel-toned silks and a lace collar. Mr. Lancaster sat on her right in an elegant smoking jacket. Though it was only midday, they looked as if they were dressed for the theater, at least to Francesca’s untrained eye.

“Come here,” the woman commanded. “I want to get a good look at you.”

“Yes, madam.” Heart pounding, Francesca walked around the long dining table until she stood only a few feet away. When she met Mrs. Lancaster’s gaze, the woman gasped.

“What on earth!” the woman sputtered. “Is this some sort of joke? Why is that filthy thief in our house! I’ll never forget this…this Italian trying to take our water pitcher.”

If only the mistress knew how accurate her description was, Francesca thought. She’d stolen a lot more than a little water. But she knew Mrs. Lancaster’s issue with her wasn’t just about the water. It was about Francesca being Sicilian, which meant she came from a tribe of nothing but dirty gangsters who didn’t know how to read, stole and practiced violence to survive, professed their sins to a Catholic god, and the worst offense of all: her skin wasn’t lily white.

“Mother, please,” Mr. Lancaster said. “You’re being very rude to our new cook.”

Mrs. Lancaster’s eyes went wide as saucers. “She is the one responsible for this meal?”

Francesca held her breath, trying to remain calm. If the mistress dismissed her, she had options, she told herself. She would throw herself on the mercy of the Brauers another night or two and look for work in their neighborhood. She would survive this, just as she had every other twist and turn.

The footman cleared his throat. “May I introduce Miss Francesca Ricci.”

“I know who she is,” Mrs. Lancaster said, anger lacing her tone. “And I had hoped never to lay eyes on this creature again, but I see my son has thwarted my wishes.”

Mr. Lancaster placed his hand over his mother’s. “I have a charitable heart, Mother. What can I say? I learned it from the very best person I know.” He smiled at her, clearly aiming to defuse the situation. “Now, what was it you were saying about the eggs? How delicious they are, and how gorgeous the meal was last night as well?”

Francesca warmed to the unexpected praise.

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