A Rumored Engagement

by Lily George

  “I did, a few times.” She looked over at him evenly. “You never responded. So I assumed you didn’t want to speak to me.”

  “I never got any letters. I suppose it was too difficult, with me being at sea all the time. Letters get misdirected. Misplaced. I would have written back, you know. I wouldn’t have left you without a word. But I thought that you had found another solution.” He’d been certain that Susannah would find a way out of her terrible situation. She always did. “It wasn’t fair of me to assume that, I suppose. But you were always so strong, so certain of yourself. I was sure that if anyone could find a way, you could. And marriage, in my experience, can be a dreadful thing—”

  “I know you grew up in a rather unpleasant environment,” she interrupted. “I thought you regretted our engagement. After I didn’t hear back from you, I was certain you did. And so rather than tie you to a reckless promise, I decided to drop the matter and find my own way.”

  “I can see why you’d do that.” It made perfect sense now. It was laughable, really. It belonged in a book. One long convoluted misunderstanding. But they were both shying away from the heart of the matter. The real truth of it. And somehow, her answer to this question mattered more than anything. “Would you have married me, anyway, Susannah?”

  She wouldn’t look him in the eye, and it was maddening. If only she would look at him, with those clear gray-green eyes, and tell him the truth. Susannah always told the truth, and it was one of her noblest qualities. And he wanted to know. Why was she taking forever to respond?

  * * *

  ’Twas a bold question, to be sure. It fairly took her breath away. When Becky had asked her the same thing, she was able to give a crisp and even response. But now? Daniel sat just a few feet away, gazing at her with such intensity in his green eyes that her heart pounded against her rib cage. Surely he could hear it. She couldn’t bear to look up at him. His glance was scorching her skin and she had to maintain some sense of self—some pride, some dignity.

  ’Twas all she had.

  “Yes. I suppose so.” It was all she could say, really. Her mouth was so dry that speech was nearly impossible.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?” She wasn’t being flippant. Not at all. But what more could she say? He hadn’t professed any kind of love or affection for her. Just admiration, and that was not the same thing. And she wasn’t sure she loved him either. His drinking...his jokiness...and his complete lack of faith...he was not precisely the man of her dreams.

  “There has to be a reason. You didn’t just come to me that day out of the blue. You came to me, Susy. Why? And why did you say yes?”

  He was using her pet name, the one he had called her from childhood, and which had infuriated her since her return. But now the sound of it took her back to sunny afternoons spent wandering the pastures of Tansley. A boy and a girl who were friends. Different as night and day in personality, but still—good friends. And she could almost feel the warmth of his hand as he helped her climb over some rocks—daring her to climb to new heights, teasing her when she was afraid, but still warm and tender as he helped her up.

  But this was the same boy who had taken her hand and told her he’d help her escape from Uncle Arthur. The same boy who then ran away to sea and left her, cold and bereft, at the hands of her greedy, grasping relatives. And she’d never heard from him again, until years later. She’d hated being so vulnerable and she’d toughened her shell, promising never to allow herself that sense of weakness again.

  “Because...you always seemed to know all the answers. We were friends. And I trusted you to know the answer to my problem.” It was the best she could manage. Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back rapidly. It would never do to cry in front of Daniel. Weakness indeed! She bit the inside of her cheek so she could focus on a different kind of pain.

  “Don’t cry, Susy.” Daniel crossed the settee and sat beside her, taking her hand. “Don’t cry. I am so sorry. You can’t imagine. All that I have done. And now Paul.”

  “I shan’t cry.” She withdrew her hand from his, for the moment he took her hand she was running with him over the fields of Tansley and she could not allow herself to feel that kind of wondrous freedom ever again. She took a shaky breath. If he was going to keep asking her questions, then she could very well fire them back at him, couldn’t she? She was tired of being quizzed. “So what about you? Why did you offer to marry me if you hate marriage so much?”

  She stole a glance at his handsome profile and was rewarded with his abashed expression, his jawline squaring as he seemed to wrestle with the answer. “I don’t know—it was the best I could offer. I didn’t have any independence back then. Nothing to call my own. I couldn’t give you money to get away—I had none. Becoming engaged, running away to sea—I felt it was my only choice.”

  Now she had every opportunity to ask the next question. Would he have married her? But somehow, the words just wouldn’t come out. She was afraid of the answer. If he said yes—that would be strange indeed. She would have no idea how to react. And if he said no—a cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. No. She never wanted to know the answer to that particular question.

  But something else had been bothering her—the glib way that Paul referred to them both. Was that how Daniel saw their relationship, too?

  “Did you think of me as the girl you left behind? And yourself as the boy who ran away to sea?”

  He shook his head. “No. I thought of you as I still do. As Susannah, strong and beautiful and proud. And myself as the fellow who was your...friend. And I wanted to set myself far apart from Goodwin, and make my fortune, before I came back.”

  So he had planned to come back. But he could still only call himself her friend. Not her fiancé. And that was her answer. Somehow, that disappointed her more than she’d expected. It hurt more than she cared to admit, even to herself. She sank against the settee, allowing the cushions to hold her up. All the energy flowed out of her being, and she was exhausted. So drained.

  But their talk seemed to have had the opposite effect on Daniel. He no longer slurred his words, and the haggard expression had vanished from his face. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” He patted her hand with a tender gesture. “Poor Susannah. What a day it’s been. You can have some luncheon here and rest in one of the upstairs rooms. I’ll see to it that you aren’t disturbed.”

  “No, thank you. I really must get back to the shop. I’ve got a bonnet to finish this afternoon, and the girls will wonder what’s taking me so long, as it is.”

  “I insist. It’s the least I can do after all I’ve put you through today. I’ll have one of the maids take you upstairs, and they can send up a meal to you. You can rest as long as you want, and then I’ll have the carriage take you home.” He leaped up from the settee and strode over to the bellpull.

  She couldn’t stay. Not when there was so much work to be done at the shop. And a driving need to put a mile or so of good road between herself and Daniel. ’Twas easy to find oneself succumbing to his charm. Already she was softening. He couldn’t help being a charmer, for so he had always been. But how much of his charm was honest?

  On the other hand, a soft feather bed and a hot meal would be such luxury....

  Baxter appeared, and Daniel gave him a few short orders. Susannah rested her head on the settee. She was weary to the bone. And somehow, the thought of surrendering control was appealing, even if just for the afternoon.

  “The maid will come to take you to your room.” Daniel grasped both her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. “And I’ll send your sisters a message so they won’t worry. And when you feel better, you can go home.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a small smile and withdrew her hands from his grasp. “I can’t stop thinking of Paul and the rumors.”

  “It’s best to let matters blow over. I had a nan
ny who used to say ‘Less said, soonest mended.’ Perhaps we should apply that philosophy to this situation. Say nothing and continue about our business.” Daniel put his hand on her back and helped her over to the study door. His handprint still burned through the fabric of her gown after he pulled away.

  ’Twas a sensible solution. Really, stirring the pot by confronting gossip would do no good. The door opened, and the same maid who’d come to fetch her in the carriage bobbed a brief curtsy.

  “This is—” Daniel paused, a confused look creeping over his face.

  “Bets,” the maid supplied in a helpful, tentative tone.

  “And she’ll take care of you, Susannah.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “Take a rest. I worry you are working yourself to death. And before you leave, I would say goodbye.”

  Susannah nodded, too fatigued to say anything. A rest would help. She’d be more like herself afterward, and she’d limit herself to half an hour at the most. She followed Bets through the doorway and up the stairs of the home that—had circumstances been different—might have been hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  And yet, despite their long conversation, which had been akin to a flood breaking through a dam, nothing remarkable happened. Not for a week, at least. In fact, it was all rather a blur when Susannah reflected upon it. She’d rested in the luxurious guest room at Goodwin, said her goodbyes to a sober and contrite Daniel and relied upon his carriage to take her home. She’d waved off her sisters’ questions and settled right back into the routine of her new life.

  And she’d met with Annabella and Evangeline, Miss Glaspell’s friends, with Nan in tow. Their orders had turned a pleasantly occupied autumn into a busy, driven and almost frenetic few weeks. As Susannah carefully wrapped a bonnet frame with rust-colored velvet, her heart beat a little strangely at the thought of all the work that was left to be done. She and her sisters worked fast, to be sure, but they never thought they’d open a business with three large orders from the gentry. Maybe she could hire someone from the village to come help. As it was, they were burning their lamps until late into the night.

  She threaded her needle with a quick jab and set to work stitching the fabric in place.

  “Sue?” Nan called from upstairs.

  “Yes, what is it?” Susannah squinted in the rapidly dimming light as she focused on a tiny stitch. Oh, her neck hurt. For a moment her mind flashed back to the comforts of Goodwin...the feather pillows and cozy quilted bolster...

  “We don’t have much food left in the larder. Becky and I were thinking perhaps we could go down to the bakery.”

  Susannah straightened in a vain attempt to work some of the kinks out of her back. What they said was true—there was nothing but a crust of bread left. But if she sent her sisters, they’d dawdle about the business, chattering away to each other like magpies. No, ʼtwould be better to go alone. At least they could then chatter while working on some new bonnets.

  “I’ll go.” She stood and cast the bonnet aside. “Any requests?”

  “Scones.”

  “Muffins.”

  “I’ll see what Bess has left,” Susannah agreed. The cinnamon bread had become her favorite, but she certainly wouldn’t turn up her nose at scones or muffins. In fact, anything Bess made was quite good.

  She quit the shop and turned down the path that marched along the main part of the village. The street was deserted; not a soul in sight. Everyone must be going home to get their own suppers. Why, the bakery might even be closed. Perhaps they’d waited too long. She’d gotten so busy on that velvet bonnet that she lost all track of time. Only her sisters, with their insistent stomachs, would keep her mindful of when mealtime was.

  Oh, good. A lamplight still shone through the window. Bess was there, likely ready to close the store. Perhaps they could get a few extra tasty bites at a discount, if Bess was preparing to throw them out.

  She opened the door and the bell chimed its usual cheery tune. Bess glanced up from the back of the shelves, a smile broadening her round face. “There you are,” she said with a hearty chuckle. “Wondered when I’d see you girls today. You must be down to crumbs.”

  “We are. Do you have anything left? I declare, my sisters are like hungry baby birds, just chirping away in the nest.”

  Bess laughed heartily. “Well, then. Let them chirp no more. I have some lovely lemon scones and a few buns left. I’ll wrap everything up for you. And no charge for the buns. I was going to make them into bread pudding tomorrow if they didn’t sell, as it was.”

  “Thank you.” Susannah crossed her arms over her chest, relishing the cozy atmosphere of the bakery. ’Twas such a delight to come here and bask in the warmth of the oven and Bess’s good cheer. It alleviated her loneliness just the tiniest bit.

  Bess handed the wrapped bundle over the counter. “So for the scones, let’s say a shilling and call it even.”

  “Here you go,” Susannah replied, handing the coin over and accepting the bundle, breathing in deeply. “Oh, those scones smell delicious. Perfect for the last bit of summer.”

  “You’ve been here a few weeks, then. And already doing well, from what I hear.” Bess began wiping down the counters with a dampened rag. “You’re already making a name for yourself in Tansley.”

  “Do you think so?” Susannah clasped the bundle to her chest. “I’d hoped I was doing well. I feel more hopeful than when I arrived, that is for certain.”

  Bess nodded, and her expression changed. She eyed Susannah carefully, as though taking stock of her. She started to speak and then hesitated. After a heartbeat, she began again. “You might want to avoid Goodwin Hall, though.”

  Susannah looked up at Bess. How did she know about her trips to Goodwin?

  “Mr. Hale’s servants have been talking. They come to the village, and they gossip. From what I’ve heard, just here in my little bakery, you’ve been to his house a few times, and even stayed there for a few hours one afternoon to rest.” She shook her head. “As a working girl, you must guard your reputation, Susannah. Even if those trips were innocent—and I believe they were—others may not feel the same way. You could be compromised. And not only that, but because of it, your business might suffer, as well.”

  This was the most she’d spoken to Bess since the day of her arrival. Most of the time, they engaged in pleasant but brief chatter. And now Bess was warning her against folly in the same way she might warn a sister or a dear friend. “The visits were innocent,” she protested. “But probably foolish. I didn’t think.”

  “If your families were close as children, then it does help. And from what I’ve gathered, you were. But his carriage has been seen outside your shop a few times, and his servants are talking. I worry that, as your little shop begins to grow, you could find yourself at the mercy of the gossips.”

  Susannah’s knees trembled and a wave of nausea hit her, full force. “Yes. Of course.” She sounded idiotic, but it was all she could think of to say. She’d worried about this very thing. But then she’d convinced herself little by little that matters were well in hand, that no one would think a thing of it. She’d convinced herself that she was invisible to the censure of the village.

  How imbecilic.

  “Here, sit down.” Bess bustled around the counter, pulling a chair behind her. “Upon my word, you look pale.” She took the bundle of baked goods away from Susannah and pressed her into the chair. “Are you quite all right? You look like you might faint.”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Bess’s concerned face floated before Susannah, and drops of perspiration beaded her brow. “Oh, Bess. What an addle brain I’ve been. Here I thought I had done so well at—well, not concealing my friendship with Mr. Hale, but keeping everything proper.”

  “No harm’s been done.” Bess patted her back with a soothing gesture, calming her ruffled nerves. “But I did wa
nt to advise you. Have you give a thought to it a bit more. You see, it’s different when you start to work for yourself. You get to be independent, but you have to be mighty circumspect about how you behave.”

  “I understand. Thank you.” Susannah placed her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. If only the room would stop spinning. She could gather her food and the shreds of her self-respect and go home.

  “Don’t take it so hard, my dear. Chin up. You’re building a lovely business, and I want to see it continue to thrive. Just—be careful around young men. Especially young men who have a lot of money. I know.” Bess pulled up a chair beside Susannah and sat as the chair made a groan of protest. “My sister almost eloped with a wild young buck when she was just a slip of a thing. And it could have ruined our family. They loved each other, but he never would have married her. Not in truth.”

  “Did your sister fare well? Even afterward?” She turned to look at Bess.

  “Bless you, yes. She married a nice young man—a butcher. And they have three children now, and one more on the way. Had she continued down the other path, I know she wouldn’t have been so happy. Or so secure.”

  Security. Safety. Independence. She valued these above anything else. If she could only be secure—and know that no one could harm her family, or make them do things against their will—then she would be happy.

  “I appreciate you sharing this with me.” Susannah straightened. She must be going home. ’Twas ridiculous to take on so about something that could easily be fixed. And as Bess said, no harm had been done. “I shall be more careful in the future. And if you hear anything more—please do tell me. It’s so...lonely out here, and I feel so isolated...” Oh, drat. She sounded just like the heroine in a Gothic novel. At any moment, she’d begin blubbering about strange presentiments she felt in her marrow bones.

  “Of course I shall.” Bess rose and gathered the bundle of scones. “Are you quite well enough to walk home? You looked so stricken a moment ago that I didn’t feel it right to let you leave here. Not until you had a bit of a rest.”