A Rumored Engagement

by Lily George

  Nan blew out the candle, and the room faded into darkness. Very well. She wouldn’t give up her shop completely, and just to appease everyone, she’d go and have a look at the Hall tomorrow.

  But the shop would always be hers. No matter what her sisters said, it was her creation, the reason she’d uprooted her family and come back to Tansley. ’Twas the only thing that separated her from the wolf at the door. Her shop meant she never had to do another man’s bidding and that she was earning her own way in the world. Could she give it all up for a charming young man who often drank to excess?

  The shop was her only freedom.

  It was her only security.

  How could she simply relinquish both for marriage?

  Chapter Seventeen

  ’Twas a fine, crisp autumn day to ride out to Crich. Daniel brushed aside Baxter’s suggestion of a carriage and ordered that a horse be saddled instead. A ride would do him good. The miles of open country and the fresh cold air would give him the clear head he needed to think. For despite Susannah’s acceptance yesterday, a fellow felt vaguely unsettled. Susannah had agreed to be his bride. In truth, and not in artifice. ’Twas a thought that was both exciting and sobering. One had to grasp the mantle of master of Goodwin Hall so that he could provide a good home for its mistress. And that, too, was a sobering thought.

  So it was with a muddled head and an urgent need to sort through matters that Daniel rode out to St. Mary’s to meet Reverend Kirk and see to the reading of the banns. He hadn’t visited the little church in ages, not since he was a boy. And even then, his visits had been under extreme protest. He didn’t bow to the obligation and will of his father; much less would he bow to the will of his Lord. So, why go? If he was truly the master of his own destiny, he had no need of a higher power.

  Somehow, he would have to neatly sweep that affirmation under the rug when speaking to Reverend Kirk. Marrying Susannah meant bowing to society’s whims in at least this small regard—a church wedding. And the pastor, whom Daniel remembered from childhood as a kindly, gentle man, would probably not care to hear the truth about Daniel’s views on religion.

  The ride was short, for his horse was brisk and the roads quite fine; autumnal rains and winter snow had not yet carved deep ruts across his path. As he drew nearer, the spire of St. Mary’s rose majestically on the crest of the moor. Daniel swallowed. He wasn’t nervous, not really. But a fellow did feel a twinge of the old desire to run in the face of so much tradition.

  And once he was done here, he would be free to go back to being himself. This would be one mere sacrifice to gentility, having a traditional church wedding. It didn’t mean he was changing who he was. He wasn’t going to give in to all forms of duties and obligation.

  Just this once. For Susannah’s sake. It was what she wished, after all.

  He turned his horse into the churchyard and stopped, considering the little parsonage off to one side, and then the stone facade of the church. Where would he more likely find the reverend?

  He’d try the parsonage. He nudged the horse forward, over to the block, and dismounted. As he tied the reins to the post, he willed his hands to cease their shaking. He hadn’t brought anything to drink with him, and that was too bad. ’Twould give a fellow Dutch courage when facing the shadows of his childhood.

  “Hello, there,” a cheerful voice called from behind him.

  Daniel whirled around. “Reverend Kirk?” He was grayer and rounder than he had been in Daniel’s youth, but his face still reflected the same kindly light.

  “Yes, indeed. And who might you be?” The reverend stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Forgive my appearance, my lad. I was tying up the rosebushes on the opposite side of the chapel. We’re in for a bit of a windy afternoon and evening, I predict. If this old leg of mine is a proper barometer.”

  Daniel grasped the reverend’s hand cordially, as one might a distant uncle. “I’m Daniel Hale. I believe you knew my family—we’re of Goodwin Hall, in Tansley.”

  “Of course,” the reverend exclaimed warmly. “I do remember the Hales. You can’t possibly be Daniel. Why, you’re far too grown-up. The lad I remember preferred climbing trees, bare feet and all, than church services. And didn’t you go abroad? How extraordinary.” Reverend Kirk released Daniel’s hand and gestured toward the parsonage. “Would you like to come in for some tea? I was just headed that way myself.”

  Something about this chapel and Reverend Kirk’s warm and friendly demeanor was grating on Daniel’s nerves. He had the strangest urge, just as he had as a child, to run off—to bolt to the safety of the nearest tree, or to lose himself on the moor. But that was ridiculous. The chapel at Crich and its reverend might be a part of his childhood, but they asked no more than that of him. Why, the old fellow merely asked him in for tea—not to take up the whole mantle of Goodwin and the Hale family.

  All the same, he had no desire to linger.

  “No, thank you,” he responded evenly. “I’ve actually come to ask...” What would this be called? A favor? His blessing? A helping hand? This was ridiculous. Even in the most dire circumstances, be it a typhoon on board ship or a row with drunken shipmates, he could hold his own. Why was this particular task so hard? He cleared his throat and tried once more. “Banns. I need to see about the reading of the banns.”

  “Ah, my dear lad, how delightful.” Reverend Kirk clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Of course, we shall set about it this very Sunday. And the young lady...?”

  “Miss Susannah Siddons.” Saying it aloud did nothing to make it seem more real.

  “Ah, yes. I remember the Siddons family well. They came here often when the girls were little. A tragic story, that. Death, the breakage of a family. I was glad to hear the young girls were doing well.” The reverend bestowed a benevolent smile on Daniel. “You are a fortunate young fellow. I shall see to the details at once. When shall the wedding be, then?”

  “When the last bann is read, I suppose?” He was completely out of his depth here. He shifted from one foot to another.

  “Of course. That would be the first Sunday in October. Shall we have the ceremony the week after?”

  “Yes, that would be fine.” He burned that thought into his brain—by the second week in October, Susannah would become Mrs. Daniel Hale. And he—would become a husband. His old panic began to rise to the surface, and he tamped it down with an inward promise of a good stout drink when they were done here.

  “Well, then. I’ll set about the planning.” The reverend looked at him with a curious expression, his grizzled eyebrows lifted. “Are you quite all right? You look a bit peaked. The offer for tea still stands, you know. ’Tis a long ride back to Tansley.”

  “No. No, thank you. It’s just—” The fresh air and the reverend’s friendly ways must be conspiring to loosen his tongue. He’d never felt such a surge to confess, not in all his years of rambling. “I want to make Susannah happy. I’ve made a dreadful hash of it so far.” He paused. “I try and try to do the right thing, but I feel as though I come up short. Even though I outwardly appear to be doing well, I don’t feel as though I am inside.”

  “So it sounds as though your dilemma is that you feel there is a division between yourself as you are alone versus how you appear to others? That you are somehow lacking?”

  “Precisely so,” Daniel admitted. Reverend Kirk had, in his gentle way, uncovered the problem. “I feel as blank as an unwritten page.”

  “Well, then.” Reverend Kirk chuckled. “You must endeavor to fill that page.”

  “But how? With what?” Daniel raked his hand through his hair. “Always in the past I embraced the void. I drank to feel the emptiness, to allow that emptiness to wash over my wretchedness. But now—what shall I do? I have entertained the possibility of giving up liquor entirely for Susannah. And it’s terrifying, Reverend. So frightening to know that
I am asking so much of Susannah, and she is asking so much of me— And I have been such a failure in the past—”

  “But you are making amends now,” Reverend Kirk interrupted, holding up one hand to stem the flood of Daniel’s confession. “Marriage is meant to be a partnership. ’Tis a symbol of the relationship we have with our Lord. He asks much of us, but He gives in return. This is what happens in a true marriage, my son. There is a give-and-take from both parties.”

  Well, that was true. Daniel pondered the pastor’s words for a moment. “But how—how do I fill the void? So that I can come to Susannah as a whole person, not as a doll made out of straw?”

  “What you are undertaking is no small feat, Daniel. When a man comes to rely upon drink, it becomes the center of his world. And when a man gives it up entirely, it is not uncommon for him to feel as though he is drifting, without anchor. Know that you have an anchor, Daniel. The Lord loves you and watches over you. And He will give you the strength to see this through.”

  “He will?” Daniel murmured the words like a prayer under his breath. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing eased. “All my life I have avoided the trappings of family and duty. How can I, in good faith, pledge to love and protect Susannah when I have avoided those very things in my life?”

  “Many young men feel the same way,” Reverend Kirk replied in a gentle tone. “Many see family and obligations as a kind of prison. But I would think that deepening this part of your life now, with Susannah by your side, perhaps you won’t find these things as difficult or as challenging.”

  With Susannah by his side. The words had a certain ring to them. The thought of Susannah walking with him about the estate, or reading beside him in the study as a storm raged across the moor—why, it would be a delight just to have her close by.

  But—would she be happy with him, as he hoped to be with her?

  “I’ve disappointed her in the past. I want to make amends for it. I just don’t know how. And she seems reluctant to—I don’t know—somehow become a part of my life. She wants to keep her millinery shop, but there is so much work I need help with at the Hall. I need a helpmeet in so many ways, Reverend. How can I make certain that she is happy enough with me?”

  “You must show her that your marriage is a partnership. Obviously, Susannah has a great deal of independence and spirit. It has served her well over the years, I am certain. She may be so used to fighting alone that she doesn’t realize that a marriage to you can be a wonderful partnership between the pair of you. You need her, Daniel. And I think she needs you. Both more than you think, I am fairly certain.” The reverend patted his shoulder with a gentle touch. “And now—about that tea?”

  Daniel stepped back with a regretful smile. “I’ve kept you from it far too long. Enjoy, Reverend.”

  “Goodbye, Daniel. Remember, allow your faith to grow and deepen with Susannah as your helpmeet.”

  Daniel replied with a carefree nod as he turned back to his horse.

  But he felt anything but easy inside as he led his horse across the moor. Funny—he had weathered so many storms as a sailor, but nothing seemed as daunting as this. A partnership with Susannah. One that would last for life.

  He kicked his horse into a canter.

  * * *

  Susannah had pondered her sisters’ words all night, which naturally resulted in only fitful sleep. Could she simply hand over the shop to the pair of them? No. Surely not. There must be a way that she could handle everything. Goodwin Hall was a manor house, and every big home required a kind of maintenance. But likely Daniel’s servants had seen to those matters themselves over the years. So she might be able to simply step in and make decisions where her advice or opinion was needed. And that would give her ample time to watch over her sisters and the shop—guarding them all as closely as she ever had.

  But—purely for appearances’ sake, of course—one had to make one’s sisters believe that she took their words to heart. So Susannah struck out for Goodwin the next morning with a feeling of certainty in her heart. She would take a cursory stroll about the grounds and be home in time for luncheon.

  Should she ask for Daniel at the main house? Ordinarily she would try to avoid him, but after all, he was her fiancé in truth now. And this was his home. So, no matter what the servants said, she should make the attempt to see him and offer to tour the grounds with him. It didn’t matter now that gossip would link their names. Since they were engaged, this was to be expected.

  Funny, no matter how many times she explained it to herself, the matter still felt like a dream—as though it never really happened.

  She gathered her skirts, which had become dampened from her lengthy stroll across the frosted moor, and mounted the front steps to the Hall. Baxter opened the door as she climbed the final step, a smile of welcome on his distinguished face.

  “Miss Siddons, how good of you to come. Mr. Hale is in Crich this morning, but I am sure he will be happy for you to stay in the study until he returns.”

  Crich? Oh, yes. The reading of the banns. Well, he’d certainly wasted no time about it, and that was a good thing. The sooner their engagement became public knowledge, the better. “Oh, no, thank you, Baxter. I came to take a stroll about the grounds. To see the tenants, and the fields, and...” She trailed off with a shrug. He must think her awfully presumptuous, coming over to assess the lay of the land the day after she became betrothed to his master.

  But to her relief, he nodded emphatically and closed the door behind him as he stepped onto the porch. “Yes, please do,” he replied in a confidential undertone. “Mr. Hale has been reluctant, shall we say, to handle these matters. And I am afraid things are in a bit of a fix. Shall I order a carriage for you? Or a horse? You might cover more ground if you can move faster.”

  Gracious—just how large was the Hall, and just how badly had the situation declined? She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Would you really recommend a carriage? Are matters that bad?”

  The butler nodded gravely. “I am afraid so, Miss Siddons.”

  “Then yes, please do.” She straightened and looked him squarely in the eye. “I appreciate your help, Baxter.”

  “Not at all, Miss Siddons. I’ll just go round to the stable myself.”

  Susannah watched the butler cross the yard and head off to the stables. For a man who was born and bred to tradition, he was certainly not relying on either. Going to the stables himself rather than sending word round by one of the other servants? Yes, things must be in a fix, indeed.

  What on earth had she gotten herself into?

  She didn’t have long to wonder, for a carriage arrived within the next few moments. She ordered the driver to take her to the tenants first. These were the people who, other than the servants, depended on her husband-to-be the most. If they were suffering, ’twas likely the entire estate was not doing well at all. And perhaps Baxter was exaggerating. After all, he was the sort of fellow to raise a fuss if everything wasn’t in perfect order. Likely he was just affronted by the laissez-faire way in which his master chose to run Goodwin.

  They took the winding road past the chapel in the clearing, over the moor. As they rolled slowly over the hillside, she breathed in deeply. In just a few weeks’ time, this would be her home. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth and acceptance settled over her like a cloak. The moor was as much a part of her childhood as her own family. ’Twas good indeed to be returning to it.

  The carriage swayed sharply left, and they veered onto a flattened part of the hill, where a cluster of thatched cottages huddled close together. Columns of smoke drifted through the chimneys, rising lazily toward the clouds. A cluster of ragtag children played, barefoot despite the frost on the ground, watched over by a gray-haired woman who was wrapped, head to foot, in a quilt.

  Why, ’twas as if they’d traveled backward nearly two centuries in coming up the moor. Thatched
roofs? Barefoot children? Surely Goodwin could do better than this. She rapped on the window to signal the driver to stop.

  Before the footman could even open the door, Susannah alit from the carriage. What more was there to see? She stepped over the ruts in the dried mud and approached the old woman, keeping her expression humble and open. ’Twould never do to start playing Lady Bountiful, lording it over the tenants. To help them, she must earn their trust.

  “How do you do?” she called as the children squealed past her. “I’m Susannah Siddons.”

  “Are you to be the new mistress here?” The old woman kept her countenance, peering at her from under grizzled brows. “We heard the master was getting married.”

  “Yes.” Gracious, the news had spread fast about the estate. Well, at least they knew who she was. No need to try to explain why she felt the need to poke around the grounds in a fancy carriage. “I’ve come to help. Seems as though some parts of Goodwin are in need of repair.”

  “Aye, true that. Though we are better off here than in some places round about. I am glad to meet you. My name is Ann Tucker. Been living here all my life.”

  “Mrs. Tucker, I am so glad to make your acquaintance. Since you’ve lived here for so long, I value your opinion above all others. Tell me, what could be done to improve the lives of the tenants on this estate?” She settled on a fallen log nearby, spreading her skirts out, heedless of her finery.

  “Well, that could take some time. And I am just one woman. What I have to say may not be all that everyone would wish to see done on this place.” Mrs. Tucker settled back on her seat and folded her quilt more securely about herself.

  The sooner she could get started the better. A sense of purpose flooded her soul. “If you like, we could call on some of your friends and acquaintances. Meet inside someone’s home, perhaps?” Susannah nodded at the tumbledown shacks and drew her shawl tighter. “I have dedicated my whole day to this task alone. Making Goodwin a better home for everyone is the most urgent of my duties.” She had not felt this revitalized since she made her plans to move to Tansley after Uncle Arthur’s death. And yet, there was something more underlying this sense of worth. She wasn’t merely helping herself. She was helping others, people who had come to rely on her fiancé’s graces for the better part of their lives.