WHEN DREAMS COME TRUE

by When Dreams Come True(Lit)

“I’m taking them on a walk to the pond, Mum.”

  “Aye, that’s a good girl. Watch them now, and don’t let them get too near the water,” Mrs. Tucker said with satisfaction and waved the child on. She tiptoed back to the open cottage door. “They’re asleep,” she said to Eden. “Quick, let’s run over to Mrs. Furman’s.”

  Eden picked up the other hamper she’d left in the Tucker yard. Leaving the cottage door open, they crossed the dirt road and walked one cottage down to the Furmans‘. Mrs. Furman sat in a chair by the front door, her pregnant stomach resting on her lap. She looked very uncomfortable in the summer heat. This would be her fifth child. “Miss Eden, we bid you welcome.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Furman. Mrs. Meeks and Lucy have packed another one of their hampers for you. How’s your son? Is he feeling better?”

  Mrs. Furman got up from the chair with effort and took the hamper from Eden. “Aye, he is now. The Widow Haskell came in to see him this morning and she pronounced him almost cured.”

  “What about Dr. Hargrave? Has he come by?”

  Mrs. Furman shook her head. “What need have we of Dr. Hargrave if the Widow Haskell has already seen him? And she doesn’t expect payment for her services.” She turned to Mrs. Tucker. “Your Clara is a good girl, Mary. Thank you for sending her over.”

  “Mrs. Meeks packed tea in the basket,” Mrs. Tucker hinted.

  “Ah, that’s a blessing,” Mrs. Furman answered. “Would you stay for a cup of tea, Miss Eden?”

  Eden looked down the road. There was no sign of Jim and the trap, so she agreed.

  Mrs. Furman, like almost all the wives in the village, kept an iron kettle heating by the fire. She measured out the tea into two cups. One cup was badly chipped and Eden realized the family had no more than two. She also knew that tea was a rare luxury to these women and their generosity touched her. Their poverty was not the poverty of spirit she had suffered as a child. These people had little, yet they were neat and proud.

  Daniel Furman slept in his parents’ bed. Eden could tell by his color that he was doing much better than he had been when she’d seen him two days ago.

  Mrs. Furman let the tea steep a few minutes. She’d just handed Eden her cup of tea when they heard shouting.

  “I wonder what the racket is?” Mrs. Furman said, going to the door.

  Mrs. Tucker set her cup down. “They’d better not wake my babies.”

  At that moment, someone outside distinctly shouted, “Fire!”

  All three women ran out into the yard. A man charged down the street toward the pond with a bucket. A few other women came out into their front yards, their expressions curious.

  Eden sniffed the air. She could smell smoke but couldn’t tell where it was coming from until Mrs. Tucker cried out next to her. The back of the roof of the cottage across the street was on fire.

  The bell in the church began ringing, its clang loud and urgent, calling men from the fields to fight the fire. Its sound would be heard for miles around. People started gathering out in the road. Several already carried pails of water.

  The two village women beside Eden didn’t waste a moment. Mrs. Furman picked up a bucket inside her front door. It was the slop bucket but she hurried across the road to throw it on the flames that in seconds seemed to have engulfed the dry thatch. Mrs. Tucker ran for her own bucket. Eden came out in the street, ready to join the others in fighting the fire.

  The owner of the cottage, an old woman, sat on the roadside weeping loudly as the women and what men there were in the village at this time of the day formed a line from the commons pond to pass water to douse the flames.

  The church bell kept ringing, a desperate plea for help. The acrid smell of smoke was stronger now, stinging Eden’s nostrils. The first bucket of water from the pond came her way and she passed it on to the next in line. Then another bucket and another. Young boys ran the empty buckets back to the pond.

  They were working as fast as they could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Flames devoured the whole cottage. Still, they worked to put the fire out. When her chip bonnet got in her way, Eden ripped it off her head and tossed it aside without missing a bucket. Her arms and back began to ache, but she worked alongside Mrs. Furman and Mrs. Tucker.

  Then, what they feared most happened. The thatched-roof cottage on the far side of the burning one caught fire.

  Reaching mechanically for the next pail, Eden discovered Jim beside her. “It’ll burn the whole village down if we don’t catch it now/‘ he shouted in her ear.

  She nodded and passed the pail down to the next person. It wasn’t an efficient system but it was the only one they had.

  The owners of the newly burning cottage could be heard shouting. Drawn by the ringing of the bell, men finally came running from the fields, their curses and orders adding to the confusion. The smoke was heavier now. The whole village seemed to be working, racing against the spreading fire. The flames easily consumed the second cottage. The wind shifted. Burning embers floated through the sky and the thatched roofs were like dry kindling.

  Her hands busy, Eden wiped the sweat from her forehead on the puffed sleeve of the rose muslin. That’s when she noticed the roof of Mrs. Tucker’s cottage was on fire.

  She broke out of the line and took two steps forward. Behind her, she heard Mrs. Tucker scream, “My babies! My babies!”

  Eden’s feet were already moving toward the burning building. In what seemed like seconds the fire consumed the entire roof.

  A man’s hand came out to grab her arm. “It’s too late,” he said. “That roof will collapse at any moment.”

  Mrs. Tucker screamed, but Eden acted. With a quick twist of her arm, she broke free of the man’s hold and ran into the burning cottage.

  Chapter 13

  Pierce rode Cornish King into Hobbles Moor at a gallop. He’d heard the clanging of the bell and had seen the ominous black smoke even from Penhollow Hall.

  He arrived in time to see Eden dash into a burning cottage.

  Mrs. Tucker, one of the village women, chased after Eden, screaming for her babies, but a flaming rafter fell in front of the doorway, knocking the woman to the ground.

  Pierce put his heels to the great stallion, jumping him over small hedge fences, driving the horse toward the cottage he’d seen Eden enter. He was out of the saddle before Cornish King had stopped, pausing just long enough to ensure the others had Mrs. Tucker safely away from the fire before he leaped over the burning rafter and went after Eden.

  Inside, the cottage looked like the bowels of hell. Smoke filled the air. Small fires burned on the ground and up the walls. The roof cracked and snapped.

  Eden stood next to a bed. She was weaving slightly as she struggled with a toddler and squalling baby in her arms. She stared at him as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Pierce grabbed hold of her, ready to drag her out of the cottage. But Eden arched her back, turning from him.

  “Ba—” she started, before smoke filled her lungs and set her coughing. “Baby,” she managed to get out, pushing against him toward the bed.

  Pierce tossed a quick look over his shoulder; another baby, the size of the one in Eden’s arms, lay on the bed. Small flames lapped their way toward the baby’s head. He wasn’t even sure it was still alive.

  “Go!” he shouted, and pushed her toward the door. Villagers waited outside to help her over the burning rafter and into fresh air.

  Pierce turned back and snatched the baby up in his arms just as the roof began to cave. Protecting the child with his body, he threw himself out the front door. He landed on one shoulder and rolled, the baby cradled in his arms. Over and over they rolled until they hit the hedge border of the yard.

  Pierce lay there a second until a hand reached down and slapped the places where his shirt was on fire. His skin tingled with burns, but he was alive.

  Where was Eden?

  Dane offered his hand and Pierce took it, coming to his feet. The baby was still tucked into the crook of his arm
. “Where’s Eden?” he demanded… and then saw her. She stood coughing, supported by Mrs. Furman. Two other women had taken the toddler and the baby from her. Both children were crying. The toddler reached for his mother who still lay unconscious.

  Pierce moved toward Eden. Her face was smudged with smoke, her hair a tangled mess. There were holes burned into her dress and one sleeve was ripped clean to the bodice. She’d never looked so beautiful to him.

  She looked up at him. “How is Sarah?” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the smoke she’d inhaled.

  Around them the villagers still fought the fire that had spread to two more cottages. Men with long hooked poles rapidly pulled down the burning thatch.

  “Sarah?”

  “The baby you’ve saved. Her name is Sarah.”

  He’d been so thankful to see Eden alive and well, he’d almost forgotten the babe in his arms. He looked down. The child appeared to be asleep in his arms, her soft downy hair curled around her face, her thumb resting between rosebud lips. A black line of soot marred her forehead. She lay still in Pierce’s arm, too still.

  Eden gave a small cry of alarm. Pierce lifted the baby. She had to be alive. She must be alive. He and Eden couldn’t have failed her.

  He pressed his fingers against her small chest but he could feel no heartbeat. He lowered his head, praying he would hear her breath, but there was too much noise and excitement around them.

  Mrs. Furman gave a sob and turned her back. Eden’s eyes filled with tears. “Not Sarah. Please, not Sarah.”

  Pierce turned the child over on her stomach. He could hold her easily with one hand.

  Nothing.

  Eden’s hand was on his sleeve now, her fingers gripping the singed cotton material. “My lord, what shall I tell her mother?”

  Pierce had never felt so helpless in his life. He placed his other hand on the baby’s back and pressed. The child’s thumb disengaged from her mouth. Her arm fell to dangle in the air.

  Then… there was a cough, a gentle, ethereal sound. And another, and then another. Pierce could almost imagine he saw puffs of smoke come from the child’s mouth as he turned her over. Large brown eyes sleepily opened to stare at him. “Asleep,” Pierce said in disbelief, and then louder and with a hint of amazed laughter, he repeated, “The babe was asleep.”

  Eden began laughing and crying at the same time. Dane hugged Mrs. Furman. Jim shouted to the villagers that the baby was alive.

  Eden took Sarah from Pierce and looked up at him with shining eyes. “You saved her. I wasn’t going to make it. The smoke was too much for me. I’ve never been more thankful than when I saw you come through that door.”

  In that moment, he felt omnipotent.

  In that moment, he knew he was in love.

  Love. There’d been times in his youth when he’d thought he’d been in love, but this was stronger, brighter, deeper. . Suddenly, he felt whole, complete, secure. It was the most incredible realization… and he knew that tomorrow his love for her would be stronger than it was today, and the next day after, stronger still.

  He’d found what he’d been searching for. She’d been delivered into his arms for his safekeeping. He saw that now, and it filled him with wonder.

  The baby’s mother came to her senses. She took Sarah from Eden and noisily kissed and hugged all her children.

  Eden returned to Pierce’s side and he put his arm around her and hugged her close as the precious gift she was. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. Amid the destruction of the village, he found a reason to celebrate. Of course, he would rebuild, but he knew that nothing he did would have meaning without this woman by his side.

  She was beautiful, even with her soot-streaked face and tangled hair. He buried his nose in her rich tresses, inhaling the scent of smoke and sweat. In that moment, he realized she was everything he could want in a wife.

  A cry went up that the fires were finally out. They were lucky. They’d only lost five cottages. Buckets fell to the ground and several people dropped right where they were from exhaustion.

  Pulling Eden with him, Pierce went out on the road. The villagers gathered around him.

  Hands came out to slap his back. He was hailed a hero.

  Pierce held up his hand for silence. “Today we were most fortunate the whole village didn’t burn down. To those of you who have lost your homes, you have my pledge to see these cottages rebuilt. Each of you shall receive a pig, a bed, and a table to replace what you have lost. I ask the rest of you to open your homes to those who have suffered a loss until their cottages are replaced.”

  Weary heads nodded. He was doing the right thing and they approved. He knew these people well. They were his family. There was the mighty Dane and Kyle, the poacher he could not and would not catch. Jim stood with crossed arms. Clustered behind him were the other grooms from his stable, along with Mrs. Meeks, Betsy, and Rawlins, who had come running to help the moment the church bells had sounded. Vicar Thomas hovered anxiously beside Mrs. Tucker and on the other side of the yard was the Widow Haskell leaning on her gnarled walking stick.

  Pierce’s chest swelled with pride and gratitude. His life was rich because of these people. It was only right they share in his happiness now.

  “I have another announcement to make,” he said. The crowd quieted. “I am going to marry the woman by my side as soon as I can procure a special license. Penhollow Hall and the village of Hobbles Moor are to have a new countess.”

  A swell of approval swept through the crowd around them. Children joined hands and ran in a circle, laughing over the prospect of a wedding feast. The adults offered congratulations, while Dane shouted, “It’s about bloody time!” Everyone laughed.

  Pierce looked down at Eden. “Is it all right?” he asked in a low voice. “Will you marry me?”

  For a moment, her eyes shone with unparalleled joy which swiftly died. She shook her head. “No, my lord, you can’t. I must not let you—”

  He silenced her with a kiss.

  She responded, against her better judgment he knew, because he could feel her hesitation. He crushed her closer, demanding that she open herself to him, that she accept him—and she did.

  He didn’t pay attention to the “Woooooo” of the villagers witnessing this kiss. It had taken on a life of its own. Eden was his and he would bind her to him for eternity.

  He broke off the kiss and Dane cried, “Three cheers! Three cheers for the earl and countess of Penhollow!” The villagers shouted in unison.

  A village boy led Cornish King to them. The stallion stamped his feet impatiently. Pierce lifted Eden up into the saddle and then swung up behind her. With a press of Pierce’s heels, Cornish King proudly pranced his way through Hobbles Moor.

  Neither of them spoke until they were free of the village and alone on the road. As they turned into the drive in front of Penhollow Hall, Eden spoke. “You know I can’t marry you.”

  “Look me in the eye and say that,” Pierce said to her bowed head.

  She did. Defiance, and, yes, regret, flashed in her green eyes as she repeated her words.

  He laughed, loving her courage, her strength of will. “It won’t work, Eden. I no longer care where you came from or why you are here. It doesn’t matter. I love you. I’ve waited a long time to fall in love and now that it’s happened, I’ll have no other woman but you for my wife.”

  She stared at him, her lower lip trembling.

  He nudged her playfully. “I believe this is where you say, ”I love you too, Pierce.“ I’m not certain, but I think you should right about now.”

  For a second, he thought she wouldn’t say it. And then she whispered, “I love you.”

  “Pierce,” he prompted.

  “Pierce.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I love you, Pierce. I’ve loved you since the day you threw pennies into the air and maybe before. I love your kindness, your strength, your compassion. I even love the dimple that shows up right here—” She pointed to the corner of his m
outh. “—whenever you tease me.” She pressed her hand against his face. “I shall always love you.”

  He had to be the most fortunate man in the world. “You could say it with more enthusiasm,” he pouted, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  She laughed now too, her eyes sparkling. “I love you, Pierce Kirrier!“ she shouted. Her words echoed against the stone front of Penhollow Hall and she threw her arms around his neck, almost toppling them off the horse.

  They kissed again and again and again. Pierce didn’t think he’d ever tire of kissing her, and he could barely wait to make love to her, to make her fully and completely his.

  “We shall be married before the end of another week.”

  She brushed his lips with her fingers. “You are certain? You love me?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “You will never regret this, my lord—”

  “Pierce,” he corrected her.

  “Pierce,” she repeated dutifully and then promised, “I shall be the perfect wife.”

  He kissed her again to seal her promise.

  Pierce bounded up the stairs leading to his mother’s floor. He’d already checked the Garden Room. She wasn’t there.

  He knocked on the door to her sitting room. Mrs. Ivy opened it. His mother stood, her back to him, beside the window overlooking the front of the house.

  He wondered how long she had been standing there.

  “Do you have a moment for me?” he asked.

  His mother turned then. She didn’t smile in greeting. “Of course. Mrs. Ivy, will you leave us?”

  The dresser bowed out.

  Pierce waited until the door closed behind her. He walked over to the window. “Hobbles

  Moor had a fire this afternoon. Five of the cottagers were burned out.“

  Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh. What a pity.” Empathy was not one of her strengths.

  She turned to him, her expression serious. “Actually, Pierce, I’m glad you came to see me. I was about to go in search for you.”

  “Really? Whatever for?”

  She hesitated, drawing a deep breath as if uncertain how to continue. “Pierce, darling, I don’t like to criticize but I witnessed something today that has given me some concern.”