Keelan signed the letter to her uncle stating her plans, saying goodbye and left it on the dressing table. She grabbed her reticule and bonnet and slipped down the servant’s staircase; the aroma of toasted pecans and raisin scones wafted up the passageway. She would miss Ruth, the soft, brown kitchen slave who loved cooking and all things spicy-hot. Under Ruth’s tutelage, Keelan had learned to cook and also dress meat and fish, and prepare a good many household remedies from removing rust stains to making lard candles. Things that could come in handy, depending on her future.
They quietly exited the back door and made their way to the side street where the carriage waited. Her uncle and aunt were hopefully still at the luncheon. Thankfully, there was no sign of the doctor.
Daniel helped
