An Arrangement of Sorts

by Rebecca Connolly

  He forced a tight smile and looked over at her. “Not quite the tranquility of Gillam, is it?”

  “Hardly,” she managed, looking around with no small amount of anxiety. “I’m sure it is not quite so imposing in the light of day.”

  “I would not be so sure of that,” he replied, looking around with interest. “From what I have heard, this place will become quite the teeming town one day.”

  “How are we ever going to find him?” Moira whispered as she looked around.

  Nathan’s heart ached at Moira’s tone, but he covered it with a brave attempt at a carefree grin. “We have come all the way up from Hampshire without any real direction, and now you worry about finding him in one town?”

  She gave him a look. “It is a rather large town, and there are many places a man can hide.”

  “Ah, but you forget who you are with,” he said, his eyebrows quirking with a teasing suggestion.

  It didn’t amuse her, for once, but instead made her tense and he detected a slight wince as she looked away. “No, I have not.”

  Nathan cursed himself and gritted his teeth together. This was going to be even harder than he imagined if he couldn’t pretend things could still be jovial between them. All he had was his ability to cover emotions with jokes, and if even that would be taken from him, then he would be left with only sullenness and silence.

  It had been an afternoon of emotional cacophony. First his resignation this morning about distancing himself from her, then lashing out at her in his frustration, then that brief, delightful moment of peace when he had actually managed to smile genuinely at her. He had been breathless with the anticipation as she read his invitation to join him. Then she had, and he exulted in his good fortune at being able to have one more moment with her near him, innocent though it may have been. Or perhaps not so innocent as he found himself blatantly trying to ignore the fact that she was so close he could smell the sweet perfume that was all her own. It would haunt his senses for many weeks to come.

  Then their hands had touched and time itself ceased to exist. He knew he could not have misread her reaction; she was nearly as unseated by the moment as he had been. She had drawn closer, and he had not thought or sense enough to react other than to do the same, knowing that heaven awaited him there. If the horse had not been agitated by the lack of attention, who knows what might have happened. Nathan knew that he would have been powerless to resist, and that terrified him.

  Moira’s reaction after all of that was what stuck with him. She was ashamed and embarrassed, and her first thought was of reaching Preston, and, no doubt, her betrothed. It was then he had been reminded of his resolution to maintain a cool detachment, and not even the perfect fit of his hands on her waist could deter that. He had to ignore everything about her.

  Which was not possible.

  He was exhausted already, but he knew tomorrow would be worse. It would be relatively easy to find Allenford once they asked after him. They would no doubt find him tomorrow, and then Moira would at last be reunited with the man she loved. Already Nathan found himself itching to be gone. He dared not hope that his darkest wishes, involving a death, a secret marriage, or incarceration, might somehow be true. It was foolish to anticipate anything other than the outcome expected.

  He could only afford to live in reality, not in wishes.

  At last, Moira caught sight of a boarding house that was large and well lit. It looked as welcoming as paradise in the relative oppression of the dark and terrifying town. Nathan had seen it as well and rode for it, then reigned in Mercury. “It would be prudent to set up lodgings here,” he said gruffly as he dismounted. “We can begin our search in the morning.”

  Moira nodded and slid off of Flora, her borrowed boots from the Cutlers hardly making a sound on the dirt. Without a word, she followed him into the establishment, wondering how they were going to arrange their sleeping tonight, and what their story was to be. She could not share a room with him again, not if there was a chance she could dream about him, and she had very little doubt that she would. And she could not bear to pretend to be his wife even for one more night.

  But Nathan would know what to do. He always did.

  A very thin man wearing an apron was wiping down tables in the taproom as they entered, and he turned to greet them with a smile. “Welcome to Mrs. Farrow’s Boarding house. Mrs. Farrow is down in the kitchens at the moment, but perhaps I can help you.” His cheerful, thick accent was one Moira was not sure she had ever heard before.

  “Two rooms,” Nathan said in a short voice, but not unkindly.

  Moira almost looked up at him but decided to look down at her toes instead.

  “Two, sir?” she heard the man ask uncertainly.

  “Two.”

  “Would you like them to be adjoining rooms?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Moira swallowed hard, his bitter, careless words unknowingly cutting a deeper gash into her heart. He sounded so cold and formal, and not like Nathan at all. There was to be no story, then; no pretense at concealing their purpose. No more laughter, no more pretending.

  “And if you could send a maid to help the lady, it would be greatly appreciated,” Nathan continued, taking out a few coins of his own and handing them to the man.

  The man’s eyes widened and he nodded hastily, rushing off to find one.

  Nathan turned to Moira, his eyes cold and hard.

  “Nathan…” she tried, wondering where he had gone, for the man before her was a stranger.

  “Good night,” he said in a low voice as he bowed to her for the first time since she had known him. Without another glance, he turned on his heel and strode out of the door, leaving her standing there in the taproom alone.

  Sobs welled up within her chest, but she dared not release them until she was safely up in her room. She had no desire to make a complete spectacle of herself here, no matter how she was hurting at the moment. For now, she would just hold them back, let the tears flood her eyes, and wait for the privacy she yearned for so her heart could finally crumble into the thousands of pieces it was threatening to.

  The dawn came too quickly for Nathan as he sat in the taproom, where he had spent the majority of the night. He had managed a few hours of sleep in the room prepared for him, though it could hardly be called sleep. It had been a strange sort of unconsciousness that had not been restful by any stretch of the imagination.

  Today was the day he would lose the woman he loved.

  He had asked around last night as to a man by the name of Allenford, and had received direction towards an area of the city that was somewhat better than he had assumed to find him in. Either Charles Allenford was wealthier than he had ever let Moira know, or he had certainly made a good living while he had been apart from her. Either way, it was not comforting, save for the fact that he could rest assured he would not be leaving Moira in circumstances so far below what she deserved.

  Walking around the city at night had been oddly peaceful, but not consoling. It served for clarity of thought, and of purpose, perhaps, but not of heart. No, that was still as conflicted as before, and even now it objected very strongly to what he would do.

  But his heart would have to wait.

  His mind was in control now.

  A creaking on the stairs brought his attention towards them, and he saw Moira coming down, her hair simply pulled back, her face fresh and rosy, and her gown neatly pressed. She looked as beautiful as he could remember seeing her, and it hurt. She saw him, and offered a small wave and a smile, and his protesting heart jumped into his throat.

  How he loved this woman!

  He forced down his heart and quirked a half smile back, and returned the wave. The relief in her eyes made him regret his actions of the night before even more, but he did not dare apologize, for once he began to do so, he would not be able to stop, and soon he would be apologizing for far more things than he wanted her to know.

  She came over to the table he was at and
sat across from him, folding her hands on top of the worn wood. “Good morning,” she said softly, her voice smaller than usual.

  “Good morning to you.” Really, he did not have to be cold when talking to her, only restrained. He tried to put more warmth into his smile. “Shall I ask for some breakfast?”

  She shook her head and tucked a stray strand of copper hair behind her ear. “No, thank you, I don’t think I can eat this morning.”

  He frowned and gave her a look. “You must eat something. It’s a big day for you.”

  “Precisely why I cannot,” she murmured, picking at the skirt of her gown with one hand.

  He started to reach for her hand, then thought the better of it and propped his elbow on the table instead. “You must eat something regardless. Let me call for something for you.”

  She shook her head more firmly. “No, I thank you. I will eat later, but for the moment, I would prefer not to.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, warring within himself. Part of him wanted to force her to eat something, so he could avoid worrying about her any more than he already would be, and the other part of him wanted to wash his hands of the whole affair and let her behave as she would, since she would not be his concern for very much longer. Finally, he allowed himself to nod. “Very well, if you are certain.”

  “I am,” she affirmed, looking resolute, though her eyes still did not meet his.

  “Well, I have found out the area where we can expect to find Mr. Allenford, so if you are prepared…”

  “Yes, of course,” she said quickly, jumping up as if she had been burned. “It may still be early, but it will undoubtedly take some time, yes?”

  He nodded, oddly tempted to smile at the rapidity of her words, regardless of their topic. “Undoubtedly, but not too long.”

  “Excellent. Walking or horses?” she asked, suddenly all business.

  He wished she would not be so very fixated on finding Charles right at the moment. It was more than slightly disheartening. But then, she loved the man, and that said enough about him to permit Nathan to accept the torment of the day. “I thought we could walk. It’s not too far and the horses have had little rest in the last week.”

  She gave one firm nod and started for the door, her face set in determination. Nathan had no choice but to follow her, though he would gladly have remained in the taproom by the fire for the remainder of the day.

  It did not take long at all for someone to know the name of Allenford well enough to give quite accurate directions, and it was far too soon after that when Nathan, rather unfortunately, found himself standing in front of a modest looking townhouse, Moira nearly quaking at his side.

  “Well,” Nathan said to no one in particular, “this is a rather encouraging edifice, isn’t it?”

  Moira didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the door, as if she could not contemplate such a thing.

  “Aren’t you going to knock?” he asked, forcing a teasing light into his voice that he did not feel.

  “I find that now the moment is here, I am dreadfully ill at ease,” she said, wringing her hands and biting her lip.

  He swallowed his own nerves and nodded. “That is only natural. But you haven’t come all this way to turn coward at the finish, have you?”

  She sighed and straightened up. “No, I have not.” With as much composure as he had ever seen her take on, she marched up the stairs to the door and knocked three times, then stepped back slightly.

  After only a brief moment, the door opened and a middle aged woman with a kind smile stood there, a cap perched ever so slightly crooked upon her head. “Yes?”

  “Is this the Allenford residence?” Moira asked, her voice shaking a touch.

  Nathan wished he could be there standing next to her, offering strength and comfort. She was terrified; she may not appear to be so to others, but he could tell.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the woman replied, still smiling. “The master is not at home, but perhaps…”

  “Who is it, Kitty? Let them in if you can, it’s far too cold for anybody to be out there this early,” came a woman’s voice from behind her.

  Nathan saw Moira stiffen, and felt himself do the same. Surely that was not…

  “I have not got to that point yet, madam,” Kitty said, turning to look back at her. “She merely asked if it were the Allenford residence, and I said it was, and that was as far as it got.”

  There was an amused, yet exasperated sigh, and then, “Well, for heaven’s sake. You take William and I will talk with the young lady.”

  “Very good, ma’am,” said Kitty with a curtsey as she disappeared.

  “I’m terribly sorry about that,” the other woman said as she came into view. “We have only just recently been able to have any help, and Kitty is a dear, but I don’t know how much experience she has.” She chuckled a bit, and smiled warmly.

  Nathan was struck by the woman, and her openness. She had dark hair, and wide green eyes that he suspected were always amused. She was a touch on the plain side, if one were to be severe, but her obvious open temperament and friendliness made her so agreeable that one would hardly notice it.

  “I apologize for keeping you out here like this. My husband is not at home at the moment, and the baby has only just…”

  “Then you are Mrs. Allenford?” Moira interrupted, her cheeks a little paler than Nathan would have liked.

  The woman’s eyes narrowed a touch. “Yes.”

  Nathan fought back the urge to run up to Moira and steady her, for she looked positively ready to faint. “Mrs. Charles Allenford?” she somehow managed to get out.

  Mrs. Allenford’s face cleared and she laughed merrily. “Dear me, no. My husband is Mr. Peter Allenford, the elder brother. Charles lives with us, but he is no closer to marrying than my own child, I fear.”

  He was a right sight closer than she could have possibly imagined, Nathan thought as he sighed heavily, both in relief and regret. As traumatizing as it would have been for Moira to have Charles married, it would have made things so much the easier for Nathan.

  “The second is realizing that nothing you want matters anymore.” The squire’s voice echoed in Nathan’s mind and he closed his eyes against the desire to groan.

  “My name is Moira Dennison, and I…”

  “Moira?”

  Nathan’s eyes snapped open and he turned at the male voice he heard from somewhere down the street. A young man of no more than twenty-five stood stock still in the street, staring at Moira as if he had seen a ghost. An older man, obviously his brother, stood next to him and was staring between the two back and forth in abject confusion.

  “Charles,” Moira whispered, though it somehow carried as if she had spoken in normal tones.

  For a moment, no one moved, and it seemed no one even breathed. Then suddenly Charles was running and Moira was coming down the steps of the house, smiling brightly. In the next instant, he had his arms around her and was swinging her around, both laughing merrily.

  Nathan’s heart stopped in his chest, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. What he had expected the dreaded reunion to be like, he could not have said, but never had he envisioned this. Nor could he have imagined how exquisitely it would hurt.

  “What are you doing here?” Charles asked with a laugh as he finally set Moira back down.

  “I came to see you, of course,” Moira scolded impatiently, rapping him on the arm sharply. “I had enough of being alone, and came to find you.”

  A bit of the light in Charles’ eyes died and he sighed, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long, Moira. I’m so sorry.”

  Nathan snorted to himself in derision. Sorry could not begin to cover what the man ought to be saying to Moira.

  “Charles,” Moira said softly, “when you left, you said you were going to find work so that you could earn enough to marry on. Have you done so yet?”

  Charles looked at her, his face draining of color a bit, and Nathan’
s heart gave a frightening lurch. But then he took Moira’s hands in his own and raised them to his lips. “Yes, I have,” he replied in a voice that sounded more hollow than grave.

  It was answer enough. Moira nodded and smiled warmly. “You have filled out a bit, I think. Had your face not been so unaltered, I should not have known you again. I can no longer hide your scrawny self behind me.”

  That brought a laugh from her fiancé and he hugged her again. “Moira, Moira, I’ve missed you! But come, I must introduce you to my family.” He kept one arm around her and turned her to face his brother, who had come up behind them, and was only now beginning to smile. “Peter, this is Miss Dennison. Moira, my brother Peter Allenford.”

  They curtseyed and bowed respectively, and Peter took her hand, kissing it softly. “Pleasure, Miss Dennison. Charles has mentioned you before, of course, but his description of you fell far short of reality.”

  Nathan almost groaned in agony, but here, at least, was a man who knew what a rarity Moira was.

  Moira grinned and accepted the compliment with a tilt of her head. “I wish I could say the same for you, Mr. Allenford, but he never mentioned you at all.”

  Peter flashed a glare at his brother, who shrugged. “I should box his ears for that, but I’m afraid that I cannot. He didn’t know I was still alive, you see. He was told with the rest of the family that I went down with my crew at seventeen, but I had the bad timing, or great fortune, as you may wish to call it, of being ill at the time and was in Spain recovering. He only received news of me two years ago.”

  “Hence your desire to come to Preston,” Moira gasped in realization as she turned to Charles.

  He nodded, still smiling at his brother.

  She shook her head at him. “I wish you had told me.”

  “I wanted to, but I couldn’t be sure it was true,” Charles said with only the barest hint of an apology in his tone. “At any rate, I see you have already met Gwen.” He gestured back to his sister-in-law, who stood at the door still, smiling at them all.