“I can’t believe I agreed to such an absolutely foolish undertaking, Miss Sophia. Your father must be out of his mind to allow you to go with that man. Why, he’s almost a savage himself.” Lucy ushered two young maids out the door as she spoke. Their job in helping with the packing was obviously done. She tangled with an elaborately embroidered petticoat, and finally managed to wrestle the garment into the already overstuffed trunk filled with a dozen chemise, corsets, petticoats, and at least three crinolines. She slammed the lid shut as if she expected the garments to make a hasty dash for freedom.
Sophia cringed slightly when Lucy referred to Indians as savages. Dismissing her nagging thought that her maid might think of her in the same way, she said, “My father fully approves of Mr. Walker, Lucy. He would never allow us to go with someone who wasn’t completely trustworthy.”
“Why you would want to leave Boston and head into uncharted wilderness is beyond my comprehension,” Lucy huffed. She secured the latch on the trunk and swiped a hand across her damp forehead. “There are nothing but bloodthirsty Indians and murdering scoundrels the further west one travels.”
“Well I will leave the decision up to you whether you want to accompany me,” Sophia said, and slipped her hand into a white glove. “You can unpack your trunk, and I’ll let my father know that I’ll be traveling by myself.”
Lucy stepped in front of her, one hand on her hip. She pointed a wagging finger at her, glowering with narrowed eyes. “If you believe for one moment that I’m going to let you go off alone to some godforsaken land with that . . . that man downstairs, you’re sorely mistaken, young lady. I spent the better part of twenty years looking after you, and I’m not going to shirk my duties now. Besides, someone has to make sure you come back to Boston.”