In Name Only: Seeds

Molly crossed fingers on both hands. "Good luck, lass." She beamed.

*****

Myra traipsed down the polished steps at a quickened pace, her shoes making satisfying taps on the waxed wood. She reached Miss Beady's office door and momentarily faltered because of strong feelings of déjà vu. Seven months ago, she learned of her parent's death in this very same office. What if she is to now learn of more bad tidings?

But there was no one left in her family to depart from this life save Joseph, and he is still young yet. No, this has to be about the assistant teaching position as Molly says. What else is there?

She squared her shoulders, took a deep fortifying breath, and then tapped lightly on the door.

"Entrée," Miss Beady called out promptly.

Myra entered the room, closing the door carefully behind her. "You wished to speak with me, Miss Beady?"

"Yes, yes...please, take a seat, Miss Ellison." Miss Beady was not your typical headmistress. She was a forward thinking, very stylish, very attractive woman of thirty years or thereabouts. And though she is yet unmarried, it has been by her choice. Many of her admires have passed through the doors of Brier school over the years, but none had succeeded in gaining her hand in marriage. She is a free spirit with a brilliant mind, never to be caged or contained by a man's whim.

Miss Beady waited until Myra was settled before she spoke. "Miss Ellison, I'm afraid I have distressing news."

Myra clasped her hands together tightly. "Distressing news? Has my brother been killed? "

"No, no, nothing as grim as that." Miss Beady interrupted, impatiently. "No, this is, perhaps, slightly less dismal. Your brother has informed us that he will no longer pay tuition to our fine institution."

It took Myra a few moments to process what she heard. "Not pay? But—why?" she whispered, fear crawled into her belly. What will happen to her if he ceased to pay? Will they turn her out? Dare she inquire after the teaching position in light of this new situation?

Miss Beady shot her an affronted look over her wire-framed glasses. "It seems your brother does not appreciate the benefits of a female obtaining a higher education. He believes a woman of abundant resources has no need of higher education." Miss Beady said primly, her lips pursed disapprovingly. "In short, Miss Ellison, you are to return home immediately."

"Home?" Myra repeated, bewilderedly. She encountered her brother only twice in her life, and she'd been very young at the time. She had no knowledge of his character; is he kind, or of a callous nature. She'd hoped, after the learning of her parent's death, he'd perform his brotherly duty to support her, if only marginally. She was dependent upon her brother's goodwill until she can earn her own living. "The last time I saw Oaksberth I was a young child. I have never considered it to be my home. This is my home, Miss Beady. My wish is to remain here—"

"And I would have it so, Miss Ellison, but without tuition...well...I'm afraid the board won't sanction it. I'm very sorry." Miss Beady said kindly.

Myra was not yet ready to give up. "But, if I am an assistant teacher, I can pay my own tuition." Myra said, giving her a hopeful look. "I loathe to ask, Miss Beady, but have you any word—"

Miss Beady raised a hand, cutting her off. "Miss Ellison, I had planned to inform you tomorrow but...its neither here nor there now..." She heaved a regretful sigh. She truly disliked crushing the girl's expectations, especially when she genuinely wanted the position. "The board has awarded the position to Miss Blake."

Myra blinked. "What—b-but... Delilah? I had not been aware of Miss Blake's intent to teach."

"Nor had I, Miss Ellison, but apparently Mr. Purdy finds her quite... amiable, and has now taken a decided interest in her future." Miss Beady divulged, her cheeks pinkening slightly.

"I don't understand... Why would a board member single out Miss Blake? Surely, the appointment of a new teacher is an impartial process."

"One would think so..." Miss Beady mumbled under her breath.

"Pardon—"

"My dear, it is done, that is all." Miss Beady said shortly. She would not discuss Delilah Blake's shameful morals with an innocent like Myra Ellison. "You are to travel to Connecticut by train tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Myra gasped.

"I am sorry, Miss Ellison, but that is the way of it." Miss Beady said, firmly.

Myra stared at her uncomprehendingly. That's it? Just like that? How could this have happened? Why has it happened? Ten minutes ago, she'd been full of hope and looking forward to her chosen path in life. What will become of her now?

Dazed by the sudden turn of events, she turned to leave Miss Beady's office without another word.

"Miss Ellison—Myra?"

Myra glanced around. "Yes?"

"I am truly sorry, my dear." Miss Beady said with all sincerity. "I have every confidence that you'd have been an exemplary teacher here at Brier school."

Myra's throat ached. "Thank you."

*****

Myra was relieved to find her room empty. She was not sure she could endure a pep talk or words of encouragement from Molly right now. She had to think.

Why would Joseph demand her return to Oaksberth? They were strangers after all. There's been no contact between them the many years she's been here at the school. Her brother has never shown a modicum of interest in her life. Never a visit or correspondences of any sort—not even a half-hearted acknowledgement of her existence on her birthday. So why now? What could he possibly want with her now?

She often imagined Robert and Muriel forbade him to communicate with her, but then decided that was probably not the case. Joseph's been his own man for as long as she has been born. He could have dropped a post at any time, but he has never sought her out.

And, yes, for her part, she hadn't extended that courtesy either, but as she'd been abandoned by her parents, and completely ignored by her brother before her arrival to Brier school, she never thought to reacquaint herself with him. She was convinced she'd have been ignored.

Myra knelt on the floor to pull her travel bag from under the bed, the very same bag she'd arrived with as a child. She wouldn't allow herself to dwell in self pity, which would be certainly justified given the unexpected upheaval to her life. Myra was not one to wallow—at least not for very long—the only alternative was get on with packing her belongings.

Old school uniforms, a few cotton blouses and skirts, a nightdress, one dress for special occasions and a few personal items easily fit into the bag. She'd accumulated little in her life at the school, but was happy for every item in her possession.

Twenty minutes later, she reclined on her bed to watch heavy rain spatter against the windowpanes. Tomorrow she will say farewell to Brier school, the only home she's ever known. She feared the world outside these strong walls. They've always kept her safe and warm and contented. At Brier, she understood what's expected of her, and performed her duties willingly. Oaksberth was an unknown entity, one she'd gladly relinquish, if it were possible.

What's her brother like? Is he an unfeeling man as his actions of today implied, or can she truly be needed in his home. Is her return for her benefit or his? But he is unknown to her. Can she live with a man of whom she has no real knowledge simply because he's her brother? But what did it matter, you haven't a choice?

Molly quietly entered the room and sat down beside the silent girl. "It's sorry I am, lass... so very sorry..." was all she said as she held Myra's soft hand in her rough one. Molly felt as though she was losing a younger sister. She remembered the tiny little girl of twelve years ago, so shy and solemn with the most beautiful shade of blue eyes she'd ever seen. Myra had captured her heart. Molly devoted herself to bringing kindness and laughter into the child's life. And now her dear friend was leaving. Molly was deeply saddened by it because she was certain they'd never see one another again.

Chapter Three

Myra settled into the back of a taxi cab she hired to drive her to Oaksberth. The train arrived in Hartview on time but was not met by a single soul from Oaksberth. She had waited around for an hour, pacing about the place and feeling decidedly conspicuous. It was a discouraging beginning. Her brother had forced her to leave her dreams behind; the least he could have done was have someone greet her at the station.

She inhaled a lung full of clean, fresh air, easing some of the tension she's suffered since leaving Pennsylvania. Her memory of the quaint little town was vague at best, but she did remember the towering trees which surrounded the area.

But white oaks weren't the only trees populating Hartview. Beautiful chestnuts, flowering red woods, towering sycamores and evergreens, and many others she could not name, filled the landscape. She was in awe of the vibrant colors and fantastic aromas as the car sped down the road to the home of her birth. The view was amazing, but the deep well of happiness she'd often heard her school friends speak of when they went home for the holidays was missing. She sensed no kinship with her father's land, and that saddened her, she would have like to have felt as if she were coming home.

As the cab drew nearer, a massive stone mansion burst into view, huge and spectacular, its many windows mirroring the azure sky. Myra swallowed nervously as they pulled onto the driveway and circled around a meticulously manicured lawn to stop in front of mammoth oak doors.

Myra got out and waited by the car. She was certain someone would notice a taxi in the driveway. But no one did, and, again, Myra suffered a pang of sadness. Why on earth did he send for her if his intent was to ignore her?

"Where do you want this, miss?" The driver asked as he hefted her case from the cab.

"I'll take it. Thank you." She paid the driver, which happened to exhaust the remainder of her meager funds. Joseph failed to send her train fare. She'd been forced to use the money she'd made by marking papers for young teachers who'd liked socialize in the evenings rather than tackle the mundane task of grading their student's schoolwork.

The driver pulled away, heading back the way he came with a friendly wave of farewell. "Good day to you, miss."

"Goodbye..." She stared after him, debating whether to call him back. She could return to Pennsylvania and no one would be the wiser. But she didn't have enough money, and, more importantly, she would not achieve much without support or a job. Well, I might as well get this over with. She banged the huge brass knockers against the door, and then stepped back to anxiously wait for someone to answer.

A pretty maid opened the door. "Yes?" The young woman's gaze swept over her quickly. "Well, what do you want?" She asked curtly.

The tentative smile died on her lips. "I am Myra Ellison."

The girl's frown eased slightly, but her disparaging glare remained. "Myra Ellison?"

Myra raised her chin and straightened her shoulders, determined to portray a confidence she did not feel. "I have come to see my brother."

"Oh, well, come in then." The maid stepped back, opening the door wider.

"Thank you." Myra stepped over the threshold and was immediately transfixed by the magnitude of her late parents' wealth. The foyer was enormous with glass marble floors and marble pillars which supported a thirty foot ceiling, and a grand staircase situated in the middle of the space. The cavernous area was surrounded by heavy oaks doors which led to what she assumed was a study, a parlor, a dining room, possibly a library, and other rooms she could not identify.

"Wait here, I'll get Mrs. Danvers." The maid told her in unpleasant tone. Her brown eyes raked over every detail of Myra's less than stylish appearance. She'd have doubted the young woman was any relation at all to Joseph Ellison except her hair and eyes supported her claim.

She blushed at the maid's slightly condescending gaze. "Thank you." she mumbled. She glanced back longingly at the doors she just walked through.

Five minutes later, an older woman entered the foyer from one of the doors at the back of the foyer. "Miss Ellison... I'm terribly sorry... we were not informed of your arrival."

Myra's confusion was clear. "But...surely my brother—"

"No, no, no, please..." Mrs. Danvers interrupted hastily, "I meant to say...we had not been told that you'd arrive today."

Myra sighed. She was beginning to feel very unwelcome. "Is my brother at home? Perhaps you could tell him that I am here?"

"Right away, miss. In the meantime, come into the parlor and have a seat. I'll get you a some cold lemonade made fresh this morning." Mrs. Danvers said, leading the way into parlor.

Myra took in the elegant furnishings. She has never seen such riches. She was reminded of how very much out of place she must appear to the housekeeper.

"Make yourself at home, miss." Mrs. Danvers said. "Someone will be in shortly with refreshments."

"Thank you." Myra sat gingerly on a plush tapestry chair, and then jumped up quickly, afraid her dusty clothes would soil the old fabric. It looked antique and quite delicate. Her disheartened gaze surveyed the room. It's impossible to relax in a room so elaborately furnished. She surveyed the room until she found a safe spot by a window and settled herself to wait. Perhaps Mrs. Danvers's intent was to make her uncomfortable, to make her nervous and unsure, why else would she tell her to wait in this place.

Her shoulder slumped dejectedly. Somehow—though she had no reason to suppose it would be so—Myra pictured a different homecoming. She was a fool to have done so. She should have expected nothing less than the cool introductions she got.

But there could be an up side to this. If Joseph shared the attitude of his servants, she might have a chance of persuading him to send her back to Brier along with a moderate allowance for her living expenses.

*****

Clara rapped lightly on her employer's bedroom door. At the sound of his "come" she opened the door and walked in. "Mr. Ellison, you have a visitor."

He motioned for her to get him a shirt. "Who calls on me so early in the morning?" She held up a perfectly laundered shirt for him to slide his arms in. "Winthrop?"

"No sir... It's a lady. She claims she's your sister. Mrs. Danvers has her in the parlor."

Walter halted briefly in putting on his waistcoat, cursing under his breath. He should have been there to welcome her home. "I'll be down momentarily." He picked up his watch and clipped it onto his waistcoat. "Make sure she has whatever she wishes."

"Yes sir." Pouting, Clara left the room. She hated when he was distant with her. She could have been a piece of furniture for all his notice. She'd like a kiss or some type of contact as assurance of his...affections. He never mentioned love or anything while they engaged in carnal pleasures, but she was almost certain he was beginning to feel something for her. Still, she wasn't brave enough to broach the subject...not yet.

She hoped the woman is what she claims to be because she had no intention of sharing him. They've been having sex for months now, and she wanted to it to continue. She is determined to become more to him than simply a woman he bedded.

Her mother would call her a whore and a fool for reaching far above her station. Well, why shouldn't she? This wasn't the dark ages where servants and their masters were forbidden to intermingle. That sort of thing is happening all over America these days, and it can most certainly happen to her. There's no reason why she can't become Mrs. Joseph Ellison someday. No reason at all.

******

When Robert and Muriel left for places unknown, they'd given no instructions concerning their youngest child. Overnight, the family fortune had become his responsibility and their livelihood his burden to bear.

Naturally, he hadn't the time to think of her. He'd rarely thought of her and, at times, he'd even forgotten she existed. It was out-of-sight-out-of-mind once she'd gone. His life had become too hectic to bother.

But that changed after Robert and Muriel died. He'd needed contact with his last living relative.

He sent her a telegram bearing the news expecting her to feel the same, but after he'd read her very formal letter of condolences, he realized what he had expected had been unrealistic. He didn't know her, and had never known her, and had never taken the time to get to know her. They were all that was left of the Ellison line, and they were total strangers.

He deemed from her short reply that she had little interest in getting to know him. In fact, she hadn't been the least upset that he'd went forward with their parents' memorial services without notifying her until it was too late for her to attend. Her polite "very sorry for your loss" and "I appreciate you're letting me know", indicated her disconnection from their parents, and her disconnection from him.

And he appreciated why that was. But after reading her letter over and over again, he'd developed a strong desire to get know her, to somehow find a way to enter her life—though he was sure she had no desire to do the same.

So, after much consideration, he used the only method open to him. Money. She could not remain in school without the continued release of funds from his estate. Therefore, she'd have no choice but to come home.

Settling his parent's affairs had been a trying ordeal because, although they'd bequeathed everything they owned to him, they'd left a number of matters unresolved, and they also failed to provide a living for their only daughter. They had never revised their will after her birth so she's completely without means. He mentally shook his head in amazement at the enormity of their neglect. He wanted to change that and embrace her as valued family.

Satisfied that he was impeccably dressed as ever, he was ready to meet his long lost sister.

*****

Ignoring the sour-faced maid who entered carrying a generously laden tray, she flitted from chair to the window to perusing the room's perfectly placed items and back to the window again. She had no idea what to do with herself.

For the fifth time since entering Oaksberth, Myra wished she were somewhere else. If Joseph is as displeased with her as his servants appear to be, she could persuade him to send her back to Pennsylvania. She crossed her fingers, wishing desperately that it would be so.

"Hello, Myra." Joseph said.

Startled, she swung around. "H-Hello..?"

Joseph's smile froze on his lips and his heart began to race as she turned toward him.

Words would not come, she could only stare. He was, without a doubt, the most strikingly handsome man she's ever laid eyes upon. His hair was rich dark shade of brown, almost black in appearance. His eyes were an unusual shade of blue—the same hue she saw each time she glanced into a mirror. He had a long dimple in his left cheek which gave him a distinctly roguish appearance. He was very tall and sinfully muscular, more so than most men of his social class. Myra felt hot all of the sudden, she began to fiddle with her collar. "You are Joseph, I presume?" The huskiness in her voice disturbed her. She discreetly cleared her throat.

"Myra?" Joseph was taken aback. She was not the fashion forward young woman he had expected. She wore a loose fitting dress and lace-up shoes; none of which flattered her in any respect. Yet, Joseph saw past her horrible attire to her absolute splendor. Her red, plump and juicy lips parted invitingly on his name. Her small delicate face was exquisitely formed, and her eyes, which bespoke of their blood bond, were dark with an emotion she immediately veiled with her long lashes. She was of slightly taller than average height and delicately built yet the contours of her breasts hinted at proportions too generous for her frame. And he had no right to imagine them in his hands.