Truly, it was a wonder the two of them managed as well as they did without any outside help. Granted, they had to manage; they could not afford to hire even one servant; the closest they got to that was occasionally giving an extra coin to the Smith boy down the road to run a quick errand for them.
A burst of wind kicked up outside, sending a haunting sound like an ethereal voice wrapping itself around the cottage, whispering things only those from another realm could understand. Miriam left the laundry pot to empty the bug trap, but the sound made her pause. Winter was coming, and with it, rain and snow. She glanced at the corner of the roof above the fireplace; it had begun to leak with autumn rain showers, and they lacked the money they would need to cover the considerable cost of re-thatching the roof.
Before she could chase away the worry, a knock sounded on the door. Darkness had already blanketed the village, as it always did early in the evening so close to Christmas. She went to the door and opened it, curious and not knowing what to expect. Opening the door let in a chilly breeze, but the sight of Jacob standing on the other side made her smile and care nothing at all for the cold.
“Jacob!” she said, feeling her smile pulling wide. “Come in, or you’ll catch your death of cold.” She stepped aside as he entered, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t expect to see you again today.”
Goodness, might he interpret that to mean she didn’t wish to see him? Because the opposite was true.
He seemed to be avoiding her eye—very unlike Jacob. Was he uncomfortable around her? Perhaps she shouldn’t have invited him inside; gossiping old ladies who heard of it might flap their tongues, though Jacob was always a perfect gentleman.
“May I speak with Mr. Brown?” Jacob said. He’d removed his cap, and now his fingers seemed to be worrying it so much, they were liable to rub a hole into the wool. He glanced up, and their gazes caught. He smiled, and his cheeks bloomed with color.
Dear Jacob. That smile would forever lighten her heart—and make it patter.
“You wish to speak with my father?” She’d heard him well enough, but the reality of what that meant, what his blushing cheeks meant, suddenly came over her. Her hands flew to her mouth, and her eyes pricked with happy tears. “Do you mean . . .”
“Yes.” Jacob stepped forward and reached out. She happily placed her hands in his and closed the gap between them even more. “I’m here to ask him for your hand. If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Of course!” Miriam said, her heart beating so crazily that it might as well have been a group of boys banging on drums. “I want nothing so much as to be with you.”
“We must marry quickly because—” Jacob’s voice cut off, and his lips pressed into a tight line.
Miriam felt quite certain she knew what he was going to say. Perhaps not the specifics, but the general concern. “Norman?”
“He wants me to become an MP, and our marriage does not factor into his plans.” Jacob took a deep breath and sighed worriedly. Brow furrowed, he went on. “My brother has always been difficult.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Indeed.” Jacob swallowed hard. “He’s clever, and he’s done plenty of things in the past to destroy my hopes or to make me a laughingstock or to control my decisions. All our lives, he’s been little more than a conniving fox for me to constantly outwit. If I lost the game of wits when we were young, I took the blame for some mischief he’d done, or he got the last sweet Papa brought back from London. But now . . .” The shake of his head worried Miriam, and she braced herself as he went on. “So much more is at stake than the last piece of candy or foregoing supper as a punishment. If he has his way, I’ll lose you. And I will not risk that.”
Concern combined with her love for Jacob, the two emotions twining together like a plait. “What are we to do? The banns must be read for several weeks, but surely he can’t declare that we are of close relation or name any other legitimate reason we should not wed. He cannot stop us from marrying.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do, but he will try to stop it from happening, which is why we must act quickly.”
A sound turned their heads to the doorway leading to her father’s bedchamber. He stood there, leaning on the doorframe and a cane, looking weak of body and troubled of spirit.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Miriam said, hurrying to his side. “I’ll bring you supper soon.”
He waved her away. “I’m not going back to bed quite yet.” He eyed Jacob and nodded toward him. “Did I hear you correctly, that you came this night to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”
Once more, Jacob swallowed and nodded. “Yes sir, I did.”
“And your brother objects?”
“He does.”
“Well, I do not object.” He smiled at that.
“Thank you, Father.” Miriam walked to him and kissed his cheek.
“I want your happiness more than anything.” Her father lifted a hand from the doorframe and stroked her cheek with his trembling thumb. “I won’t be around much longer, and I want to go to my eternal rest knowing that you are cared for and loved.”
Jacob stepped closer. “Thank you, Mr. Brown. I will do everything in my power to ensure that your daughter is both happy and cared for. It will be my life’s work.”
“Good.” Her father shifted, and Miriam went to his side to help him walk back to bed. He paused in his step and tossed one more comment over his shoulder at Jacob. “If I can aid you in thwarting your brother’s intentions, please let me know, and I’ll do it.”
“I will,” Jacob said. His face already looked lighter than it had when he’d entered, when a weight had pulled at the corners of his eyes.
A few minutes later, her father back in bed, Miriam and Jacob sat on the settee and discussed the possibilities.
“A new law went into effect last month,” Jacob said. “It provides a way for a couple to marry more quickly, without the banns needing to be read for three weeks.”
“That’s possible?” Miriam asked, not doubting him but amazed. “Truly? How?”
“A bishop must provide a license, and representatives of the bride and groom must swear that there are no impediments to the marriage, which must occur within three months of the license.”
That seemed far too simple, yet Miriam wanted to hope. “That’s all? A license can replace the banns? A bishop can grant a license without any other requirement?”
“Well, there is a payment that must be made to ensure that the sworn statement is correct, but I have the money. Though the estate was entailed to my brother, my father was able to leave some money for me. I’ll use that.”
“But that money should be saved,” Miriam began. She knew all too well how quickly fortunes could change, and if one had money, one should save it for the inevitable difficulties of life.
“This is the only way I can see to thwart Norman’s plans, whatever they may be.”
“But if we marry here, couldn’t he cause, I don’t know, some problem in town to prevent it from happening?”
“Yes, which is why I intend to go on a trip to Harton first thing in the morning.” At her confused expression, he explained. “The ceremony must occur in a parish where one party has lived for a fortnight. The law used to require a much longer period. But I’ll get a license and stay in Harton for two weeks, and then you and your father can join me there for the ceremony.”
“Would your brother become suspicious of your up and leaving, right before Christmas?”
“Not at all. We have an aunt and uncle in Harton who have invited us for the holiday, not wanting us to spend Christmas alone after our father’s passing. I can certainly slip away some morning and meet you at the church.”
“Goodness, Jacob, this is all almost too wonderful to be true!” So much had happened in just a few moments—she’d become engaged to the man she loved more than life itself, he’d found a way for it to happen despite his brother’s protestations, and it would occur in
only two weeks.
“I will leave for Harton in the morning and arrange for the license after that. We’ll need someone to represent your father—I can hire a solicitor for that. And we can draw up the contract to make sure all is as it should be. What do you say to marrying on the morning of Christmas Eve?”
“So soon?” Miriam’s mind was spinning with the news and happiness and the idea of so much change. “That sounds divine.”
Jacob’s voice lowered slightly, and his eyes took on a hint of concern again. “It would have to remain a secret, as much as possible, with only our witnesses present. It won’t be anything grand, with flowers, music, a luncheon after, or any of the other things a regular wedding should have and, no doubt, all brides hope for—”
Miriam stopped his words with a kiss, then pulled back. “I’ve long hoped for you. All that matters for our wedding is that you and I will be there, together, and that we’ll be bound as husband and wife for the rest of our lives. Nothing else is of any consequence, even if it means I end up wearing an old dress covered in mud stains because of an ornery sheep.” She tilted her head to one side and then the other. “Though I believe I’ll be able to manage something a bit nicer than that.”
Jacob leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. She breathed him in, feeling the tension and nerves in her body ebb away like the outgoing tide. “I love you, Miriam Brown.”
“And I you, Jacob Davies.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The very next day, after serving her father breakfast, Miriam was scrubbing dishes when a knock sounded at the door. She wiped her hands on a linen dishcloth and went to see who their visitor was. Upon opening the door, she found Jacob, a carriage behind him and a small package in one hand.
“I had to see you before I left for Harton,” he said.
From the carriage, Norman called, “Hurry now. We haven’t all day.”
Miriam and Jacob ignored him, embracing one last time for the next fortnight. “I’ll miss you so,” she said, arms about his neck.
“And I you,” he said. “But just think: when we meet again, it will be at the Harton chapel to be married.”
She pressed her forehead against his. “How can I wait so long?”
“We must, and we shall,” Jacob said. He gave her hairline a tender kiss and then held up the package. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” she asked, taking it in her hands. Whatever the paper held, it was soft, likely made of fabric.
“It’s an engagement gift. I hope you like it.”
“Ahem!” Norman said from the carriage.
“You’d better go,” Miriam said, holding the package to her chest protectively.
“I’ll see you soon. Promise.”
“Promise.” She went onto her toes and kissed him lightly one last time before Norman knocked the side of the carriage with his walking stick and cleared his throat in annoyance.
Jacob winked before heading to the carriage and waved before stepping inside, to which Norman grunted and rolled his eyes. After the carriage had gone, Miriam went inside and opened her gift: a beautiful wrap of silk, likely something the late Mr. Davies had procured in his trade with India. The fabric was smooth and seemed to move almost on its own. She put it around her shoulders and took in her appearance in the looking glass over the washbasin in her bedchamber. The bright-blue accents made her pale-blue eyes seem deeper and prettier.
“Miriam?” her father called. She hurried to his bedside to see what he might need. Instead of making a request of her, however, he held out a hand.
“Here. These are for you.”
Unsure what he meant, she put her hand below his, and into her palm he dropped a handful of coins. “Buy yourself a new gown.”
“Where in the world did you get this?”
“I’ve been saving a penny here and a penny there for just such a day as this. You deserve a proper wedding dress, and while this isn’t enough for a gown fit for a queen, I hope it’s enough for something a bit nicer than you would’ve been able to wear otherwise.”
To think that he’d gone without medication and comforts, all to provide more for her.
She curled her fingers around the coins, her love and gratitude for her father washing over her. Just when she thought it impossible to love him more, something like this proved otherwise.
That afternoon, she walked to the next town over, Whitefold, where the nearest dressmaker was located. She had her new wrap about her shoulders and a reticule with her father’s coins in her hand. Hopefully the dressmaker would have the time and materials to create a dress for her; she imagined that Christmas was a common season for new requests.
As she stepped into the shop, a bell at the top of the door jingled, announcing her entrance. She took in shelves that held bolts of beautiful fabrics of different types and colors, and a counter where a woman was looking over samples of lace. At the back of the room was a raised area where a young woman stood, getting a dress fitted to her by the dressmaker—Mrs. Fulsome, she assumed. At least, that was what the sign outside read.
The dressmaker took a handful of pins from between her teeth and called, “I’ll be right with you.”
Miriam nodded in acknowledgment and whiled away her time waiting by meandering through the shop, admiring various fabrics, and looking for what she might choose for her wedding dress. It would have to be something she could wear to church and on special occasions; she could not spend so much money on a gown to be worn only once. If she’d had the time, she would have made her wedding dress, as she had made her others. But thanks to her father’s generosity and forethought, she would get something new.
Soon Mrs. Fulsome—for so she indeed introduced herself a few minutes later—came to Miriam’s side, and they began looking over fabrics and making plans. Miriam chose velvet and chiffon in complementary greens for the top and the skirt, hardly able to believe she would own such a luxurious gown.
“And it will be ready by the twenty-third?” Miriam asked.
Mrs. Fulsome nodded as she wrote down notes about the order. “It certainly will be. I’ve had much shorter periods in which I’ve had to do more. This dress will be a joy to create for you.” She looked up at Miriam and must have sensed the latter’s concern, for she added, “I’ll plan for it to be ready two days early, just in case we stumble upon any delays.” The door jingled as she finished with, “Don’t you worry your pretty head. You’ll have the dress in hand no later than the twenty-third, and likely sooner.”
“Thank you,” Miriam said, but then, suddenly aware of a new customer having entered, leaned in and whispered, “if you could keep details confidential—”
“Understood,” Mrs. Fulsome said with a wink. “Have a lovely day.”
“You as well,” Miriam said, and turned toward the door, only to lay eyes on Norman Davies. She’d assumed that he and Jacob had both left for Harton that morning, but Jacob must have gone on ahead of his brother. Her throat tightened, and her heart sped up. “Mr. Davies,” she said with a nod, and she moved to walk past him.
He stepped to the side, blocking her way. “Miss Brown,” he said, “may I have a word?” He gestured toward the door.
Dread pooled in her middle. She wasn’t about to go outside and speak with Norman without witnesses. “Very well,” she said, clasping her hands at the front of her skirts. “We may speak here. Isn’t that so, Mrs. Fulsome?”
The dressmaker’s eyes slid from one to the other and back again. “I suppose you may . . .”
Norman’s face darkened, and his eyes narrowed. He stepped further into the room, then turned so that his back faced the dressmaker. When he spoke, it was in a whisper, but his tone was as threatening as if he’d yelled. “I know what game you’re playing, Miss Brown, and I will have none of it.”
Miriam’s knees quaked, but she kept her face resolute, refusing to let him see her nerves. For once, she was grateful for skirts that concealed things like trembling limbs. “I am playing no games, Mr. Da
vies, but I can assure you of one thing: my life is mine to live, and you will not have a say in anything I choose to do or not do.”
She noted a flicker of something in his eyes, as if he’d expected her to be made of mettle as weak as clay and was impressed to learn otherwise. His expression hardened so quickly that she half thought she’d imagined the increase of his opinion about her.
“My brother is to have a life and a career far beyond this miserable countryside, and I intend to ensure that lowborn chattel such as yourself will not stand in his way.”
“Once again, Mr. Davies—”
“You will not stand in his way,” Norman repeated, speaking right over her. This time, the venom in his voice silenced her. He nodded toward the counter where she and Mrs. Fulsome had decided on the details of her dress. “I know why you’re here—a sheep farmer’s daughter suddenly ordering a fancy new gown for herself? You must think me a dolt to not know what you’re planning. Make no mistake; there will be no wedding.”
Had he observed and merely guessed? Or had someone else told him of their plan? Did he believe they were planning a regular wedding here, in Audbury, after Christmas—and after the reading of the banns?
He mightn’t know about the new law, she thought suddenly. He doesn’t know we plan to marry in a matter of days, not months.
The realization strengthened her resolve and helped her stand with a straighter posture as she addressed him. “Your brother’s life and future are his own, as are mine. He will make his own choices, just as I shall. And you, Mr. Davies, will quite simply have no say in the matter.” She wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself and walked to the door. “Now I must return home to care for my father. Good day, Mr. Davies.”
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