An Arrangement of Sorts

by Rebecca Connolly

  Urging Mercury on faster, he caught and passed Moira, earning a cry of outrage from her.

  They continued to race back and forth, laughing all the while, until suddenly, the storm was upon them. And it was not some gentle spring rain. It was a torrential downpour with raindrops so large and falling at such a speed that the impact of one was almost painful. The wind howled and blew them about, nearly carrying away Moira’s bonnet, which she had decided to don the moment the rain started.

  “The bonnet?” Nathan yelled over the sound of the storm. “Really? I think it’s a bit late for that!”

  “Shut up, Nathan!” she bellowed as she hung onto her bonnet with one hand and Flora’s reins with the other.

  Nathan grinned in spite of the storm and turned back to the road, which was rapidly became impassable. Up ahead, he saw light coming from what looked to be a farm. He maneuvered closer to Moira and said, “I think we should make for that farm, see if they will let us take shelter there. Perhaps in the barn or something.” He saw her face, and misread it. “It will be better than nothing, Moira.”

  “If you think I am going to be particular about where we take shelter, you are an imbecile,” she said over the wind. “Flora is making me nervous. She is ready to bolt.”

  Nathan looked towards the farm, then back to their horses, who were whinnying and shifting anxiously, as well as getting their hooves stuck in the mud of the road. “Let’s get off of them and make a run for it,” he suggested.

  Moira nodded and slid off quickly, her boots immediately sinking into the thick mud beneath her. She gripped Flora’s reins tightly in her hands and tried to move, but found her feet to be stuck. “Nathan!” she yelled with no small amount of irritation.

  “What?” he called back, his own level of frustration very high.

  “I am stuck in the mud, Nathan,” she bellowed, trying once more to free herself. “What a grand idea that was, getting off of the horses in the middle of the road. Did you think we would fare much better than they did in the mud?”

  “I didn’t hear you object!” he argued as he made his way over to her, clutching Mercury’s reins in his fist. “Did you have any better ideas? No!” He drew out the “o” dramatically as he trudged through the mud. “‘Don’t worry about the clouds,’ you said. ‘It will pass us by,’ you said. Well, are you happy now, Moira? I said I was worried about them, but since you were so sure they were nothing, we did nothing. I should just leave you in the mud and let you fend for yourself.”

  “Oh, who asked you to do anything?” she barked, shielding her eyes from the rain. “If you want to ride on ahead to safety, then be my guest! I can manage very well without you!”

  He snorted as he reached her and bent down to examine her boots. “Yes, very well indeed, from the looks of things. You have things quite in hand, haven’t you?”

  She screeched in frustration. “Ugh, if I had the use of my feet, I would kick some of this disgusting mud into your face, Nathaniel Hammond!”

  He glanced up at her through the rain, looking rather sardonic. “That is not very good incentive for me to get you out of here, is it?” Before she could respond to that, he began unlacing her boots.

  “What are you doing?” she screeched.

  “You are not going anywhere in these,” he commented matter-of-factly. “They are only going to sink further and take you along with them. They must come off.”

  “So you are going to make me march all the way up there in my stockings?”

  He sighed and looked up at her again. “Tempting. But you know me better than that, Miss Dennison.” Without another word, he swept her up into his arms in one fluid motion, leaving her boots behind.

  She squealed in surprise and held onto him as best as she could, and he grimaced as she wriggled in his arms. “Hold still, woman,” he growled. “This is going to be difficult enough as it is.”

  She frowned up at him. “Well, my apologies for not being the size of a twig.”

  “That is not what I meant, Moira,” he scolded as he slogged through the thickening mud towards the grass on the other side of the road.

  “Oh, well, now you are claiming I don’t understand you. That’s a true statement, if ever I heard one,” she drawled, reluctantly latching a hand behind his neck.

  “Stop choosing to be offended!” Nathan cried, slipping a touch on the grass. “Do the whole world a favor and shut up!”

  “You first!” she protested, tugging on Flora’s reins as the horse tried to escape. “Why don’t you try hurrying along instead of talking the storm out?”

  “I could go a lot faster without you as an added burden,” he informed her, “but as that is hardly an option, I am doing the best that I can.”

  Moira ducked her chin as her cheeks flamed. She was cold and sopping and obviously irritated, but it did not stop her from tucking herself a little closer into the moderate warmth of Nathan’s chest.

  Nathan tightened his hold on her, feeling her shiver against him. Her warm jacket was worn and too thin for a storm, but he had nothing better for her. His own jacket was hardly substantial and was far too wet to offer. “We’re almost there,” he said gruffly, wanting to comfort her, but not willing to let go of his argument.

  “Good,” she said shortly as the arm around his neck tightened ever so slightly. Then she growled and untied the bonnet from her head. “This bonnet is useless,” she muttered, flinging it off into the storm.

  Nathan looked down at her with a quirked brow.

  “What?” she asked without concern. “I am already soaked through, it is not as though it was actually being of use. It was a tatty thing anyway.”

  “You cannot go with nothing.” He shifted his hold on her enough to take his own hat from his head and place it on hers, but not before a steady stream of water fell from the rim onto her dress.

  “You did that on purpose!” she cried as she tried to shake the water off, which did nothing but spray them both with droplets.

  “I might have,” he said with a shrug, “but now you have protection for your head and I do not, so my actions are negated by each other.”

  “That is hardly accurate,” she mumbled as she adjusted the hat. “There was no need for protection for my already sodden head, and your hat is hardly worth wearing itself.”

  “You are welcome.”

  “Must you always have the last word?”

  “Must you?”

  She muttered under her breath, unaware that he could hear every word, and he bit back a grin at her choice of words.

  “If you are going to be so poorly behaved,” he said calmly, “I would be more than happy to carry you over my shoulder instead.”

  “What makes you think I would not prefer that over this?” came the immediate response.

  Nathan sighed and shook his head, torn somewhere between terribly amused and irritated beyond belief. One thing was certain, miserable and cold and drenched as they were, he was rather enjoying having Moira in his arms. And protesting as she might be, she was making no effort to shift away from him.

  It was an odd sort of peace amidst the strife.

  The thunder and lightning came in earnest then and Nathan quickened his pace as much as he dared, fearing they would lose control on the horses.

  Suddenly, three men appeared from the farmhouse rushing towards them.

  “Do you have shelter for us?” Nathan called out to them.

  “Yes, of course!” the youngest of the three called as he reached up and took Mercury’s reins from him. “Mama is already making some hot tea and soup and my wife and sisters are setting to the rooms.”

  “Oh, we only need the barn,” Moira insisted as an older man took Flora’s reigns from her.

  “Nonsense,” he said as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We have room.”

  “Besides,” said the third man, also quite young, “Mama would never hear of it. She would put us out in the barn before she would let any guests do so.”

  “W
e are most grateful,” Nathan said as they made their way to the house. “I’m Nathan, and this is Moira.”

  “Squire Joseph Cutler,” the oldest man said. Then he pointed to the others. “My sons, Jacob and William. There are two daughters, a younger son, one son-in-law, my sons’ wives, and three grandchildren inside, along with my wife.” He smiled at them, in spite of the storm. “You may wish someone else had found you tonight, sir. It is hardly going to be peaceful.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Nathan commented dryly. “I’ve not had peace in quite some time now.”

  A sharp jab into his ribs from the woman in his arms left Nathan quite unable to comment on anything else for a while.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The squire’s words should have been fair warning, but neither Nathan nor Moira could have expected just how true they were.

  From the moment they had entered the spacious farmhouse, they were set upon by a rather demanding, yet impossibly sweet Mrs. Cutler, who insisted they call her Madeline. She bemoaned their sorry state and instantly rushed Moira upstairs and ordered the men to see to Nathan.

  They immediately dried and warmed her thoroughly, then changed her into a frock belonging to one of the girls, though which one Moira couldn’t have said. She didn’t recall any of the names, despite having had hurried introductions.

  They returned to the large room on the first floor where the remainder of the family and Nathan, now changed himself, were waiting. The room was positively bustling with people, both adults and scampering grandchildren, and Mr. Cutler stood against the wall near Nathan, and watched the gathering with a quiet smile.

  She made a quick count, and with her and Nathan as an addition, there were fifteen people in this house, which was certainly large enough for a family, but hardly one of this magnitude. It was quite simply astounding.

  She moved to stand by Nathan as Mrs. Cutler and her daughters returned to tend the food. “Do they all live here all the time?” she whispered as she reached him.

  “Shh,” he scolded out of the corner of his mouth, as he saw Squire Cutler’s mouth twitch. “You are not nearly as quiet as you think you are.”

  She glared at him, but didn’t comment.

  “Don’t worry, Moira,” the squire said as he leaned near them. “We don’t take offense easily in this family. We can’t. The answer to your question is no, we do not all live here all the time. The married ones have homes of their own not too far away. Emma and Jack, that is our youngest boy there, are the only ones remaining. The others are here for Madeline’s birthday, which is in two days. Her only request was for the entire family to be together for a week, and, as you can see, we are fairly bursting at the seams.”

  “I’m sorry to cause any further inconvenience,” Moira said softly, feeling guilty and letting Nathan take her hand in consolation.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” came Madeline’s cheerful voice from across the room. “We have plenty of room for everyone, and I will hear no more about it! Now come and eat, all of you, before it gets cold!”

  Moira looked to the squire, who only smiled and shrugged. “I never argue with Madeline, you know,” he whispered as she passed him. “It would be impossible to get a word in.”

  They spent some time socializing with the family after they had finished the excellent meal, and it was a wonderful respite from the excitement of the last few days. They’d been questioned, rather gently, about their story, and rather than pretend marriage at this point, Nathan explained that they were cousins searching for Moira’s husband, and it seemed to come far more easily than anything they’d tried yet. Faintly, she wondered why they hadn’t done so before.

  The family was very sympathetic to their plight, with some rather maternal tears from Mrs. Cutler, and the sons assured them both that they could easily reach Preston by nightfall tomorrow if they left in the morning.

  Nightfall. Tomorrow night this would all be over. Moira looked over at Nathan, who returned it with a similar expression. After tomorrow, there would be no pretending a life with him, no familiarity of speech or argument, no more stories or questions… All of that would belong to someone else.

  And they would never see each other again.

  Suddenly, she could not breathe and her chest ached.

  In Nathan’s eyes she saw that he had not been immune to the words either, but what exactly he was feeling, she could not possibly know.

  To be perfectly honest, she was afraid to.

  As the dinner finished, the family suggested, quite energetically, that they enjoy some dancing. There was no arguing with the guests, but Nathan nearly groaned. The dishes were quickly cleared from the table and no doubt the speed with which they were cleaned was something that should have deserved a reward. In almost no time at all, the furniture was moved into other rooms and suddenly, the room was spacious enough to hold quite a large number of people.

  It was only then that Nathan noticed a small pianoforte in a corner of the room. He wondered how much it had cost this family, who clearly had enough to get by, but not much beyond, for they did not even have help around the house. The instrument was old and worn, obviously much loved, but still in serious need of repair. If someone in this family could play half as well as the piano’s use indicated, they deserved a better one.

  Each of the girls took a turn playing as the rest danced, and it was hard to say which of them were more talented. Nathan begged off from dancing, as the numbers allowed him to, and he spent much of the time watching. One daughter, Sarah, if he recalled, was expecting and kept him amiable company.

  “Not dancing, Nathan?” she asked with a smile as she looked up at him.

  “No,” he said instantly, shaking his head with a dry laugh. “No, I would not shame the present company with something so atrocious. I am much better at observing, thank you very much.”

  “That is not a very good reason, you know,” she told him, her eyes dancing.

  “But alas, it is the only one I have. You have a far better reason, I see,” he said with a grin, his eyes indicating her stomach.

  “Yes,” she said with a warm smile, rubbing it once more. “I do not think dancing would be wise in this condition. But Clara will dance after a while, once she has played a bit, and then I shall take over. I have not quite the technique she does, but I make up for it in energy.”

  Nathan laughed aloud and faced the dancing again. “Now that I can believe.”

  He fell silent as he watched the dancing, eyes tracking one person in particular. Moira looked so alive as she danced. She laughed, and smiled, and her hair, long and luxurious down her back as he preferred it, fairly shimmered in the flickering light of the room. Instead of tiring after a dance, she almost looked more energized, as if the dancing was rejuvenating her.

  She looked over at him on occasion, and always with the same little tilt of her head, inquiring, inviting, but not voicing the question. He was tempted, he really was. Dancing with Moira would not be like dancing with any other woman. He knew, without hesitation or previous experience, that he would never regret one dance with her, no matter how his lack of ability might jumble the whole thing into an unidentifiable mess.

  He could watch her all day, dancing or not, but something about observing her dance made his heart warm. Charles Allenford could not have the slightest idea of what an amazing woman he was so fortunate as to be engaged to. Years of friendship, no matter how close they might have become, could not have compared to the depth and intensity of his emotion for her. For what she was. For how she affected him.

  If it could have, there was nothing in the heavens or the earth that would have been able to take him away from her side.

  He smiled as he watched her, loving the way her laughter rang like music in his ears. Suddenly, he needed to be the one making her laugh, making her smile, bringing that light out of her. He had so little time with her, and here he was standing against the wall watching her enjoyment.

  Again she looked at him, agai
n she tilted her head so adorably, and smiled at him. Instantly, he made up his mind. He looked down at the woman next to him, and, to his astonishment, saw that it was now Clara. It seemed he had watched longer than he thought. He smiled at the woman, and asked, “Would you care to dance, Clara?”

  She smiled up at him. “I would love to, Nathan.” She looked over at the dancing, and sighed. “They have almost finished this one, I fear.”

  “Well, then let us give them a finish to remember,” he said with a grin as he offered her his hand.

  She took it and they lightly joined the dance, and he found himself smiling the entire time.

  As it finished, Clara’s husband approached to claim her. “That is, if you don’t mind dancing with your cousin, Nathan,” he added pleasantly, ever so slightly out of breath.

  Nathan looked to Moira, who was staring at him and smiling in a stunned amusement. “I don’t mind,” he murmured.

  He walked over to her and bowed very properly. “If you would be so kind, Moira, I should very much like to dance the next with you.”

  She curtseyed very prettily, then said, “I thought you did not care for dancing.”

  “I find myself so entranced by your smile tonight that I dare to make an exception.” His own words stunned him, but he would stand by them. Truth was truth, after all, and if she thought he was teasing, then so be it.

  “Are you under my spell, then?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

  “Entirely,” he said in a low voice with an accompanying nod. “I am yours to command as you will.”

  Moira’s eyes danced playfully as she fought to restrain her grin. “Then I command you to dance with me, Nathan, and enjoy it.”

  “If you insist.”

  She laughed merrily at his words and he smiled, unable to help himself.