by Emily Woods
“Uh, no, thank you. Could you see if Miss Crawford would be willing to talk to me for a few minutes?”
“Yes, ma’am. Come on in.”
She wasn't sure if she should, but perhaps if she was already in the house, Georgina would have a harder time turning her away.
Josephine disappeared for a few minutes and then Wesley appeared. “What a pleasant surprise!” he drawled. “And just in time for dinner. Josephine, tell Fanny to set another place.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn't dream of imposing,” Amanda said, mildly horrified. “I was just hoping to speak with your sister for a few minutes.”
His brows came down a fraction, whether at her refusal or her request, she couldn't be sure. “Well now, my sister is feeling a bit poorly, Miss Walker. I'm afraid you'll have to call on her some other time, but I really would enjoy your company for dinner.”
Amanda struggled to think of another polite way to decline, but then thought perhaps she'd have more of a chance to see Georgina if she stayed.
“If you insist,” she demurred. “But if Miss Crawford is feeling up to it, I would like to check in on her afterwards?”
She tried not to make it sound like a condition of her acceptance, but it certainly came out that way. Wesley's eyebrows came down a little more, but he gave her a short nod. “I'll see how she is. Now, please come and sit by the fire while we wait for dinner to be finished. It won't be more than an hour, I expect.”
“An hour?” She tried not to sound too unhappy with the news. What would she and Wesley talk about for all that time, just the two of them. “I don't know if that would be quite proper without your sister to act as a chaperone.”
“Now don't you worry. I'm a proper gentleman, Miss Walker, but if it really worries you, I'll call on Josephine to stand nearby.”
The thought of that poor girl standing in the room for an hour's time was too much. “Uh, no, that's fine, I guess. As long as the room isn't too closed in.”
He gave her a broad smile as though he appreciated her concern for her reputation. “Not at all. Shall we?”
Taking his arm, Amanda allowed herself to be led to the sitting area adjacent to the dining room. Again she marveled at the house, not just its size but the pure opulence of it.
“I'm surprised you haven't found a wife to occupy this house with you,” she said unwittingly. “I'm certain many a young woman would be more than happy to make the move in order to live in such a lovely place.”
“I'm glad you think it such, Miss Walker,” he said softly. “I'm glad my house pleases you.”
Too late she realized that her remark sounded as though she were insinuating that she would like that position. “Well, it would please any woman,” she replied lightly. “And these books! I don't remember seeing them the last time I was here.”
Deftly, she changed the subject and engaged in a lengthy conversation about various books that lined his shelves.
“You'd be welcome to borrow any of them, Miss Walker...or may I call you Amanda now?”
“Oh, I...uh, don't think that...”
“Dinner is served,” Josephine announced, saving her from having to respond.
Thankfully, he didn't ask again. Wesley Crawford was a gentleman, through and through, even if he was pretentious and acted more superior to his hired help than she would have liked. Still, it wasn't her place to say anything.
“Do you think I could speak with your sister for a few minutes?” she asked after dessert was finished. Wesley seemed inclined to refuse her for a moment, but then, thinking better of it, agreed.
“But please don't stay too long. She has a tremendous headache.”
He brought her to the door and slowly opened it. “Georgina, Miss Walker is here to see you.”
“I don't want to see anyone,” came the muffled reply. “Tell her to go away.”
“Come now, my dear. She's most anxious to look in after you.” He stepped away from the door and allowed her entrance, but the look on his face read that she was entering at her own peril. Amanda didn't let that intimidate her. Instead, she walked in confidently and sat right down on the edge of the bed, in which, presumably, Georgina was ensconced. It was hard to tell with the mounds of fluffy quilts that lay upon it.
“Miss Crawford,” she began gently. “I'm here as a messenger of sorts...on behalf of Carl.”
The form beneath the blankets stirred a little and then sat up. “He doesn't want to marry me,” she said petulantly. “He's not an honorable man. In the South...”
“We're not in the South,” Amanda interrupted boldly. “And you are entirely wrong. He is a very honorable man.”
Two eyes glared at her from under the mountain of coverings. “You would say that. It wasn't your honor that he offended.”
Softening her tone, she asked, “And would you kindly tell me how he did this?”
A long-suffering sigh was the first response, and then two arms pushed the quilts back. “You wouldn't understand,” Georgina declared, sitting straight up and giving her a hard look. Amanda noted that she was still wearing her dress, but otherwise, her appearance was most disheveled. “You're not from the South.”
“And that is precisely why you need to explain it to me,” she replied primly. “Please.”
Falling back against the pillows, Georgina began to explain how, in the South, when a man is interested in a woman, he pays her a certain kind of attention. He drives her home from functions, spends time alone with her, and goes along with her when she speaks about plans for the future.
“He did all those things,” she accused. “And now he says that we're not engaged. My reputation is ruined!”
She grabbed the edge of the quilt and threw it up again, disappearing under the swath of material. Amanda tenderly peeled it back.
“But did you, perhaps, orchestrate these things? Did he ask to drive you home or merely politely acquiesce?”
Georgina squinted at her. “If he didn't want to bring me home, he should have said so!”
She nearly chuckled. “And how would he do that?”
“I don’t know, but when I spoke to him of how I would redecorate his home, he let me prattle on and on, giving me false hope that he felt the same as I do...did.”
“And how is that?” Amanda coaxed, hoping to help her sort out her feelings.
Georgina cast a glance at the ceiling and began counting off reasons on her fingers. “Well, he's the only man I've met here who even comes close to being suitable. He has a ranch, property, and some wealth.” For a moment, it seemed as though she understood how superficial she was being and added, “He's also nice looking and has some manners, not really enough, but those things can be taught easily. Also, he's not aggressive or given to any kind of violence.”
Amanda prayed that she would be able to speak so that the other woman could really hear her.
“Miss Crawford...” she began.
“Oh, for heaven's sake, call me Georgina. You're in my bedroom after all.”
“Very well. Georgina, you've given me a list of reasons that you could like him or find him appropriate, but you haven't said how you feel about Carl. Does he make your heart pound? Do you find yourself thinking about him when he's not around? Does the thought of him taking your hand make you feel dizzy?”
She had to stop and take a steadying breath. Speaking of Carl in that manner made her tremble. Looking over at Georgina, she saw the woman was studying her carefully.
“You love him,” she nearly accused, sparks flying from her eyes as she sat up again, hands fisted at her sides. “You love him and want to take him from me. I suspected as much!”
Help me, Lord, Amanda prayed. Instead of losing her temper, she took a deep breath. “Was he really yours?” she asked simply.
The other woman's mouth fell open and a little squeaking sound came out.
“Do you love him, Georgina? Do you love the man, or what he can offer you?”
“How dare you...! I want you to leave right now.
Right now!”
Easing herself off the bed, Amanda nodded. “I'm sorry to have upset you even more than you already were. I was hoping to help you.”
“Well, you haven't! You've made it all worse! Not only is my reputation ruined, I'll be the laughingstock of town! Thrown over for a mousey schoolteacher. Who back home would have believed it?” Her face was a mask of fury and shame.
“Georgina, no one here thinks anything like that of you. Why, most men at both ranches are half in love with you.” When she didn't reply, Amanda asked, “If status and wealth is that important to you, why did you come here? There must have been a great many men lined up back home.”
Turning away, Georgina shook her head. “I can never go back,” she mumbled. “There's nothing there for me anymore.”
The raw agony in her voice made Amanda take a risk. She resumed her seat and put a gentle hand on Georgina's arm. At first, the other woman shrank from her touch, but when Amanda leaned in more, she suddenly turned and burst into tears, burying her head in Amanda's lap and sobbing as though her heart would break.
Amanda stroked her hair and let her cry. Every now and again, she would make some kind of soothing noise, but mostly she gave her the freedom she needed to let it all out. When she was finally spent, Georgina reached for a handkerchief and blew her nose.
“Why can't you go back?” Amanda asked, her voice as soft as a caress.
“I-I can't tell you. It's a burden I must bear alone.”
She wouldn't push her, but she had to offer her hope. “I also bore a great burden until very recently.” Quickly, she told her of the flu and the loss of her family. “I have long felt that I should have died with them, or that I had to live a solitary life in honor of their memory, but I don't think that's what God is telling me now. I think He has another plan for my life.”
Georgina turned her head a little and whispered, “Carl?”
“Yes.” It was bold to claim him in front of the woman who had believed herself engaged with him just this afternoon, but it was also a relief.
Letting out a long sigh, Georgina nodded. “You're right. I don't love him. I just wanted the security of a home and a family. I thought he could offer me that.”
“But you have that with your brother. Surely he won't kick you out.” As much as she wasn't drawn to the man, she acknowledged that he cared for his sister.
“No, but when he marries, his wife won't want me around.” She gave Amanda a wistful smile. “I thought that might be you. I thought if you married my brother and I married Carl, we could all be happy.”
Although she wasn't utterly surprised to hear that, Amanda shook her head quite vigorously. “I'm very sorry if I've led you or your brother to believe that I was at all inclined to be his wife. I never meant to.”
Georgina looked as though she was tempted to be annoyed by Amanda's refusal of her brother, but then she shrugged and sighed. “I suspect it was just his desire. He probably thought if he wants something enough, he can have it, much like I did.”
“But you didn't really want it,” Amanda insisted. “Not really. You know that. You just told me you don't even love Carl.”
“I might have come to one day if he... No, you're right.”
Now she pushed herself off the bed and marched over to the wash basin, splashing water on her face and drying it with a nearby towel.
“Thank you for coming in here. That couldn't have been easy.”
Amanda stood and held her hand in front of her. “No, it wasn't, but it was right. We women have to stick together. If you will allow it, I'd like us to be friends.”
For a minute, Amanda thought she would refuse, but then she nodded slowly. “Maybe, but not right away. I need to spend some time by myself, but I'll come see you when I'm ready.”
“Fair enough. I'll see myself out, shall I?”
“Yes. Good night.”
“Good night.”
There was no one in the hallway when she exited the room and she managed to find the front door without any trouble, but then Wesley appeared out of nowhere.
“How is my sister?” he asked, a concerned look on his face.
“I believe she's better than how I found her,” she replied, gathering her hat from the table in the hallway.
“But you're not leaving so soon? There is no school tomorrow. If my sister is better, perhaps I can persuade her to come out for a game of three-handed whist.”
The light in his eyes warned her and she knew that he needed the same kind of medicine she'd given his sister.
“Mister Crawford...” she started.
“Wesley, please.”
“Mister Crawford,” she said again. “I have never misled a man and I won’t now. Perhaps I'm wrong in thinking that you entertain some thoughts about me, but I need to tell you that I'm spoken for. Your sister will explain. Thank you so much for your generosity to the school. The children and I are very grateful. Now, if you'll kindly excuse me, I have one more errand I need to attend to before I return home.”
“But I insist on walking you back to...”
“No, thank you, sir. I'm very grateful for your kind concern, but this is something I must do alone. Good night.”
Before he could protest further, she slipped out the door and quickly made her way across his field. The errand she had to take care of couldn't wait until morning.
Nearly flying across the space between the two pieces of property, Amanda found herself on Carl's property less than twenty minutes later. It was nearly dark, but not quite, and she could see someone near the barn. Even though it was dusk and hard to make out the features, by the gait and shape, she knew exactly who it was.
As much as she wanted to cry out to him, her demure personality held her back, but she did quicken her stride. He must have heard her coming because he turned before she was even fifty feet away.
As soon as he spotted her, he broke into a full run.
“Amanda!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. “You're here!”
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless. “I'm here. I'm really here.”
He stopped two feet away from her, breathless. Then, ever so slowly, he reached for her hands. He ran his thumbs along the insides of her wrist, sending shivers up and down her spine.
“And...?”
Words didn't come. All she could do was nod, but he understood. Releasing one of her hands, he reached out and tilted her chin up, looking deep into her eyes.
“Finally,” he whispered, leaning down toward her.
Even though she knew his intention, and half-closed her eyes with anticipation, she gasped when his lips touched hers. Instinctively, her arms wound around his neck and held on tight. In that moment, she knew that God was giving her a future with this man.
And her heart sang again.
Thank You
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Bristol, Connecticut, 1887
Kate Landry trembled as she watched the blazing fire greedily devour her childhood home. She clutched her six-year-old daughter, Maddie, close to her chest. Both faces were streaked with black soot, tears flowing down their cheeks.
Despite the efforts of the volunteer firefighters, the modest but respectable two-level house was soon engulfed in flames, dashing any hope Kate might have had for salvaging her belongings.
“Oh, darling girl,” Mrs. Johnston murmured, drawing the two of them into her warm embrace. “What a terrible thing. I’m dreadfully sorry.”
The words of her kind neighbor didn't penetrate the confusion of her mind. Dazed, she struggled to recount the loss. Both of her beloved parents had perished in the fire. Of that, she had no doubt. She’d tried to save them, but the door to their bedroom had been barred by fallen timber. Not only was she bereft of the last two people who loved her unconditionally, but she’d also lost her home and every possession in the course of a few hours. Although she was grateful that her precious daughter had been spared, her heart ached with knowledge she would never she her parents again. Aside from Maddie, they'd been her whole world. Without them, she was lost.
Her mind jumped back to their reunion just three years before. Owing to her husband’s job, they’d been separated all that time. But after her husband passed away, they'd taken her in and given her every kind of support: financial, emotional, spiritual. When she'd arrived on their doorstep with bag in hand, they'd enveloped her into a warm embrace and hadn't let go since. Now she was utterly alone and terrified, but she had to at least pretend to be strong for her daughter's sake.
“We're okay, sweetie,” she whispered into Maddie's hair. The little girl didn't reply, but wrapped her arms around Kate's neck and held on even tighter. “Everything's going to be okay.”