Johanna feels glad that her mother was not haranguing her with questions on this day, as she was prone to do. Taking in the surrounding prairie, Johanna tucks her chin down and keeps her eyes on the road, feeling a mixture of annoyance as well as guilt for feeling so on the Sabbath. She knows she is supposed to turn her heart toward God on this day, above all others, but it just did not make sense to her. The expectation did not fit her own understanding.
What was it about sitting in a stuffy building in scratchy, uncomfortable clothing while listening to Pastor Harkin's dull voice give the sermon? Why did that indicate fealty toward the Almighty? It made no sense. Johanna had always been devoted to her evening prayers and to being the best person she could be, or at least, try to be. She knows there are enough instances when she fell short. There were just times when she felt as if the world around her conspired to make her existence nothing but boredom.
"Good morning, ladies." The voice of Mr. Andrews, his hat covering his balding hair, as Johanna already knows, interrupts her thoughts. "Do you care to allow me to escort you?"
"Well, of course, Mr. Andrews," Mother purrs, placing a gloved hand to her throat. "It would be an honor."
"The honor is mine," Mr. Andrews replies. "To accompany three such becoming ladies."
"It may not be prudent for me to say, as I am her mother and might have a biased eye, but our Johanna is becoming more beautiful with each passing day. Would you not agree, Mr. Andrews?"
"Indeed, I would agree." He tips his hat toward her with a sparkle in his eye.
Johanna takes a breath in an attempt to keep from rolling her eyes. Mr. Andrews is the shopkeeper of the general store in the center of town. Mother had been hinting that Johanna was soon approaching marriageable age and should start to consider some of the gentlemen, as they would surely begin to come calling. Mr. Andrews name had been mentioned within such a context. Johanna thinks him far too old and that he looks like a goldfish.
The idea of marriage makes Johanna's skin crawl, especially because she’s seen her mother's life turn out the way it did. Her mother had been a fine lady in Boston before they moved. Her father wanted them to move out West after his business took a downturn. She balked against it, but he had the final say, and at last they moved. But fortune did not smile upon them, as her father fell to a calamitous accident within the first weeks after arriving. Her mother had little knowledge of how to run the farm, and so, in addition to grieving her father's death, the majority of the caretaking fell to Johanna. She welcomed the workload as it gave her a distraction.
"We'll need to hire a boy for the farm," Mother had said a little while after the death of her father.
"I can do it," Johanna had insisted. "I don't mind it, Mother."
"Nonsense. Tending a farm is no kind of work for a young lady. We'll find a way to hire a boy. Maybe Finnegan's young man? He's nearly 12. He can lift."
"Mother, I can do it! We have little money as it is. I can care for the farm."
But her mother had continued to insist that they needed to hire someone to come around. She constantly nagged Johanna about the unladylike behavior, but it did not go unnoticed that she never did take the steps to hire the Finnegan boy. Johanna was glad of it and suspected her mother had granted her a small mercy.
Up ahead, the buildings of Neiman's Hollow come into view around the bend of the road. More of the town's people stream toward the large building at the far end. Everyone arrives by foot, as it would be irreverent to harness one's animals on the day of the Lord. Johanna tries not to cringe as Mr. Andrews somehow manages to find his way walking alongside her. She only hopes that he would not sit next to her during the service.
Johanna tries her best to keep her heart and mind focused on the pastor's words through the course of the service. She wants to have a pure mindset about the services keeping her mind on God. Sometimes it just seems so difficult. Sunday just seemed to drag on. With the weather as lovely as it is, Johanna wishes she could be galloping through the meadow on her beloved mare. It is then that she feels closest to her creator. She does her best not to fidget throughout.
"There is something I wished to speak with you about," her mother says as they step out of the building at the end of the services.
"Yes, of course." Johanna turns with a polite smile, ever aware of her manners.
"I wanted to ask you: Mrs. Ferrington is looking to hire a girl. There seems to be a unique situation arising within her family."
"Oh?" Johanna replied attempting to put off the question. "What would that be?"
"Ah, there she is." Her mother waved to the well-dressed woman standing with her parasol a short distance away. They approached her through the visiting crowd. The woman considered herself one of the town's upper crust in any sense that it had one. Her husband ran the post office in the center of town, next door to Mr. Andrews’ shop.
The women greet each other by folding their gloved hands over each other’s.
"Please," her mother says, "explain to Johanna the opportunity that you have come up with."
"Of course," Mrs. Ferrington begins, "my young nephew is coming from the East to stay with us for an extended amount of time. He hopes to take over the Dawson's old ranch."
Johanna's heart sinks at the words. Regardless of the circumstances, she had secretly dreamed of one day owning the ranch herself. It became abandoned when the Dawson brothers traveled farther West. Owning the ranch was a fanciful idea, of course, for a young lady to dream. She did her best once more to keep the serene smile on her face.
"His situation is a bit unique," Mrs. Ferrington went on, fluttering her hand around her neck.
"In what way?" Johanna's mother asks.
"You see, he has recently become the guardian of his sister's child. An infant boy. He does not have the means or the ability to care for him in the proper way. Once he arrives, I was hoping to make the offer to hire Johanna to be a nanny to the poor child. Heaven knows the situation requires a woman's touch. That much is certain."
"Sara is still in school for the time being," her mother chimed. "I have every confidence that Johanna would be a perfect fit for the job."
Johanna tucks her head down to hide the sudden flush in her cheeks. She had little time to herself, as it was for taking care of the farm. The idea that now she had been volunteered to care for someone else's squalling child made her simmer with anger. She did not speak again but stood in silence while her mother and Mrs. Ferrington planned out the details of her life.
CHAPTER TWO:
The sun peeked over the horizon, as Johanna approached the barn. She had already milked the cow and taken the milk back to the kitchen to be made into butter later that day. Now she needed to harness Pepper and lead her out to the pasture. Already she realizes that she would have little riding time, if any, in the afternoon. This was the day she was to meet Mrs. Ferrington's nephew and his ward.
Johanna smiled as she approached her mare, already peering over the stable door.
"Good morning, Pepper," she chimed, taking the harness off the nail. "Perhaps we could run away together, just you and me and the open prairie. What do you say?"
The horse gave a short snicker of impatience, clopping her foot down.
"All right, all right," Johanna laughed. "You don't like being confined, either, do you?"
She harnessed the horse and led her out to the pasture, careful to avoid the puddle that formed in the rut as the gate swung open. After letting the horse out into the pasture, she stands at the fence and watches her four-legged friend prance in the grass. Her mother and sister would be awake soon. She needed to gather the eggs and get back inside to help make breakfast. She did not look forward to the day’s events, but she knew she still had chores to do.
Johanna twisted her fingers together as the carriage pulled up to the front of Mrs. Ferrington's home.
"Now you will be on your best behavior, young lady."
Johanna turned her head away from her mother's scolding. Sh
e had grown used to her speaking as if Johanna were an errant child.
"Let's hope this experience will be good for you. After all, it will do you some good to build some kind of maternal instinct."
"Of course, Mother," she said with a tight smile.
"Please, don't take me wrong Johanna. I only want what is best for you. You are so strong-spirited. It is unbecoming of a young lady."
Mrs. Ferrington stepped out onto the porch wearing her second-best dress, black silk with her pearl brooch pinned at her throat. Even just seeing that much fabric made Johanna feel claustrophobic, though she felt glad that her mother had insisted she wear her pressed gingham. She felt domestic in it at least.
She stepped down off the carriage and up to the porch.
"If you don't mind, Johanna," Mrs. Ferrington said, "step into the drawing room. Mr. Louden has only just arrived. Perhaps you can assist him."
Johanna turned and glanced toward her mother, who paused to greet her friend with a kiss on the cheek. She turned away and stepped inside. She saw the luggage first: high-end leather, gilded corners, obviously belonging to a gentleman. Johanna took off her cloak and hung it on the hooks in the entryway, smoothing her hair before she stepped into the drawing room.
He had his back to her, standing at the window with a bundle in his arms. His silhouette was tall, and he had broad shoulders, but when he turned around, Johanna took a breath.
He held in his arms a small baby, pink and squinty, it's tiny fist rising into the air out of the white wrappings around it. She took a step forward, mildly fascinated by the small creature. She had never been this close to one and did not quite understand what she felt by seeing this one.
"He's a small thing, isn't he?" The gentleman's voice brought her back to reality but not by much. Johanna lifted her eyes, embarrassed at her actions. She had not even taken the time to introduce herself to him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. You must be Mrs. Ferrington's nephew. My name is Johanna Holmes."
"Reese Lauden. It's a pleasure to meet you, Johanna."
"How do you do, Mr. Lauden?"
"Please, call me Reese."
Johanna had never seen a more handsome face. She hoped her blushing cheeks did not give her away. His black hair was combed back except for one tendril falling over his forehead into his piercing blue eyes. His olive skin made his remarkable eyes that much more appealing. Johanna dropped her gaze. Perhaps he had not noticed. She noticed instead how the sleeves he rolled up over his arms revealed the firm muscle tone of his arms. Johanna wondered what kind of work he had done. The main aspect that caught her attention is the way he kept his arms wrapped so gently around the small bundle. She had never seen a man hold a baby like that. Come to think of it, she had never seen a man carry a baby at all.
"Well, I see you have met my darling nephew," Mrs. Ferrington stepped into the drawing room carrying a tea tray from the kitchen. "I trust you two are getting along nicely."
"Only just," Johanna said. "Please, let me help with the tea."
"Nonsense. You see about the baby."
"Of course." Johanna stepped back, giving room for the lady of the house to pour the tea. She had hoped in offering to help that she might buy a few more seconds before having to face the task at hand. The consolation was the kind smile emanating from Mr. Louden's face when she turned toward him.
"May I?" Johanna awkwardly extended her arms as he placed the child into them.
"You'll want to support his head," he said in a low voice.
"What's his name?" Johanna asked once the child was in her arms.
"Caleb," he replied.
"Caleb," Johanna spoke the name trying it out.
Mrs. Ferrington poured the tea carefully handing a cup to Mr. Louden.
"How do I feed him? Where will he stay?"
"We are turning the study into a small nursery until such time that Reese can rebuild the Dawson's ranch. I expect at any moment a few more packages to arrive containing the remainder of Caleb's belongings. Along with the formula to feed him."
"I see."
Mr. Lauden spoke. "My hope is to have the rooms built in enough time that I can move there permanently in two weeks time. I can only hope if your employment works out that you would continue at that time."
"Yes, of course."
Johanna stares down once more at the strange creature in her arms, gazing up at her with such wide-eyed trust. She came today for the sole purpose of hearing the conditions of the job. Mrs. Ferrington would agree to pay her as was discussed with her mother. She could use the money as the entry fee to the race. In the meantime, she needed to find someone who could sign for her to enter the race in the first place. Maybe today would solve both problems for her.
The remainder of the day Johanna spent helping Mrs. Ferrington place pillows and decor in the nursery room—when she was not tending directly to the baby. The older woman took a moment to show Johanna how to prepare a bottle once the formula arrived. Much to her dismay, Mr. Lauden leaves in the carriage shortly after tea to pick up the heavier items from the post.
"Where did he come from, Mr. Lauden, I mean," Johanna asked, hoping she sounded conversational.
"Boston. It's a shame really. The child came from his sister, who unfortunately died in childbirth."
"What of the baby's father?"
"Hmph," Mrs. Ferrington lifted her nose in the air. "There is a bit of a, shall we say, debate about that. It is unfortunate. Most, most unfortunate."
"I see." Johanna lifted the bottle from the baby's lips and placed it on the table beside her. "Look," she whispered. "He's sleeping."
"The crib is ready at least. You can lay him down in there."
Johanna did so, careful to keep her hand behind the child's head as she lay him down onto the small pad. What on earth have I gotten myself into, Johanna wondered. It was almost time for her to go for the day. Mr. Lauden returned with this rest of the delivery stacked in the back of the carriage, followed unfortunately by her mother, who was there to collect her. They said goodbye, and Johanna took her seat next to her mother with Sara sitting between them. They pulled forward and headed down the path toward their homestead.
"How was it?" Sara asked with a smile. "Your first day as a governess?"
"She's no governess," her mother corrected. "A governess is a job for one who cannot find a husband. Our Johanna is no such woman."
"Mother," Johanna replies, "let's not get ahead of ourselves. I have no eye for marriage."
"Not yet, perhaps."
Sara covers her smirk with the palm of her hand as she and Johanna exchange a glance.
CHAPTER THREE:
The Dawson's ranch had not had a person set foot within it since the brothers had left. Mr. Lauden, as Johanna still called him, had been in Neiman's Hollow for two weeks. Most of the time he spent in town, much to Johanna's chagrin. He made use of the empty office above the post office until the rest of his furniture arrived from Boston. The train would bring the large things to the depot in Jessup, the next town over.
Prior to receiving this job, Johanna had things all planned out. She would find a way to take part in the match race with her mare, Pepper. Her only challenge at that point was to pay the minimal entry fee and to find a male person to sign the entry form for her. She had combed over the instructions with great detail, ensuring that she had understood the wording. It plainly stated that the signing-off party to the entry form had to be a man. It did not state, however, that the person on the horse had to be a man. Johanna had chuckled for days over the apparent oversight, the tiny loophole that would allow her to take part in the race.
But this new job complicated things. She saw far less of Mr. Lauden than she would have liked and spent the majority of her days in the company of Mrs. Ferrington. The small stipend gave her enough money to put aside for the race's entry fee, so that part was taken care of. At their own farm, Sara began to take over the chores, tending to the animals and preparing the meals. Johanna's time becam
e consumed with her position. She needed to find a way around that, figure out how to get the signature and find a way to make it to the race on the day of the town festival.
Caleb was a delight, though. She never before had experienced much time around a baby. She had no idea they could be so much work all at once. If he was fed, then he needed to be burped. Once burping was completed, his diaper needed changing. If he squalled after that, Johanna was tasked with carrying him in her arms pacing the nursery, all the while trying to figure out what ailed the child.
"That's a good one, he is," declared Mrs. Ferrington on one such a day. "I've seen children the like that would never stop squalling."
"Oh?" Johanna replied.
"You've a good touch with him." She waved her finger toward Johanna and gave her a knowing glance.
"Have I? I would not have thought so. I've never had much of a desire to have children. Sara's the one with the mothering instinct."
"Don't be so sure about that, Johanna. You might know more than you believe."
Johanna puzzled over the words. She had never considered herself maternal. She dreamt of working with animals. Maybe that was a form of mothering, perhaps?
"Reese tells me that his furniture and office things are to come on the next train through Jessup."
"Is that so?"
"It is. And that means he would soon be taking the Dawson's ranch."
"What exactly is it that he does? I mean what was his job before, in Boston?"
"He was a bookbinder."
"A what?"
"A bookbinder. He makes cloth and leather covers for books when they are printed. It is quite an art."
"What is he going to do now that he is here?"
"Well, he has Caleb to take care of now. But I think he wants to bring books to Neiman's Hollow. Perhaps keep a small library in the town. Make his services available to the people who live in town."
Regency Romance: Fallen Duchess (A Historical Victorian Murder Mystery Love Regency Romance) Page 11