Freedom For A Bride: A clean historical mail order bride romance (Montana Passion Book 2) (9 page)

Moira and Pryor sat down to a late supper after the animals were tended to for the night. A gentle knock on the door alerted both of them to someone’s presence outside.

“Gretchen?” Moira asked when Pryor opened the door. She stepped around her husband and greeted her old friend.

“Aye, ‘tis not only me though.” Gretchen stepped back to reveal Katia, who nodded her head in greeting. Behind her, Nathaniel waited on the bottom porch step, his hat in hand. “Mr. Russell came by for Miss Noryeva, and I thought it best to hear him out over on your property since I don’t own the house.”

“Aye, ‘tis a good decision. Well, come in, all of you. Shut out the cold now,” Moira answered, gesturing for them to come in out of the dark and chill. She took their wraps and laid them on a banister Pryor had hung in front of the fireplace for drying wet things. She pointed them to the chairs around the table and waited while the unspoken tension filled the room.

“It seems as though Mr. Russell may have come by to speak to Miss Noryeva, but she wasn’t able to understand. I’m afeared that she thinks he does not wish to marry her,” Gretchen explained.

“What makes you think so?”

“I would prefer to tell you it’s my woman’s intuition, Mr. MacAteer, but I believe ‘twould have more to do with her packing her belongings this afternoon and setting out on foot toward New Hope. I stopped her about a mile from the cabin.”

Pryor and Moira turned to gape at Katia, who still hung her head and looked down in shame.

“And you brought her back?” Moira asked quickly. “Does she not fear she is our prisoner then?”

“What would you have me do, let her set off on a thirty-mile walk only hours before sunset?” Gretchen asked calmly. Moira wasn’t used to this tone from Gretchen, and it still surprised her during the rare times when the former maid seemed to forget her station, not that she still had one. She knew Gretchen only spoke thus when she was determined… and right.

“Of course not, my dear. You did the right thing. I’m only surprised is all, and I’m still not certain we’ve found a solution,” Moira answered, her voice softening.

“I’m sorry, I’m only weary from all of this. I can naw let myself think about the poor dear and what she must be feeling.”

“Of course. But I’m sure that is why Mr. Russell has come this far tonight, is it not?” Gretchen asked, turning to the man who’d taken a chair at the end of the table. Nathaniel looked to Pryor, who nodded, then blew out a breath and began to answer.

“I want to marry Katia… more than anything. But I can’t do it knowing she’s sorrowful and heart broken. I won’t do it, I mean. She can’t very well give me her heart, not in the way I’ve already given her mine if she’s left a piece of it behind.” He looked toward the blackness outside the windows for a moment, then continued. “That’s why I’ve decided to sell my claim and take Katia back to her country, so we can be together and she can be with her child again.”

Pryor, Moira, and Gretchen sat stunned, staring intently at Nathaniel and what this meant for his future. The thought of selling his claim was preposterous! And for a woman he’d only just met in the space of a week or two!

“Nathaniel, how can you be sure about this?” Pryor asked quietly, darting his eyes to Katia to see if she noticed. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel slighted or insulted, but for this man who’d fought against the odds to make a go of homesteading, only to sell his claim and lose everything he’d worked himself to the bone for, it defied logic.

But so does love
, Pryor reminded himself, casting a quick look at his own wife’s angelic face, secure in knowing the beautiful, strong little boy she’d borne him was asleep in his cradle.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, not even my decision to come to Montana in the first place. I’d rather have Katia as my wife than own my land. I’d live over a laundry in some smelly town, working a factory job or working for the railroad again, if it meant she’d be with me.”

“And what of her child?” Moira asked in a voice that barely broke above a whisper. “You do know ‘tis not enough to care for it and provide for it. Can you truly love it as if it were your own flesh and blood?”

“I know I can, because it’s a part of Katia. I think the world of her, I even… I love her. And before you even ask, no. I don’t care if it was something shameful or awful or if she was married before… none of that matters. All that matters is Katia, and her happiness. If this is what she needs to be happy, and I already know her well enough to know she’ll never be happy without her child, then so be it.”

They were quiet for a moment, all of them pondering the implications of Nathaniel forfeiting his claim. Katia looked around the room uncomfortably, aware that something momentous was happening, but unsure of what their grim faces and hushed foreign words could mean. She looked to Gretchen and Moira for some kind of explanation, but their faces were nearly unreadable, torn as they were between wanting the best for Katia and her child, and Nathaniel, too, but also knowing that losing his farm and living in the city was the last thing the poor man wanted to do.

“Have you tried explaining this to Miss Noryeva?” Pryor asked. She sat up taller at the mention of her name, now certain that their worried expressions had something momentous to do with her. The thought made her afraid, even if she didn’t know what to be afraid of yet.

“I don’t see how I can,” Nathaniel admitted. “That’s why I’ve come to you all. All I know to do is to take her into town, put her on the train, then when we get to the coast, I’ll show her the ship and hope she understands me. I just hope she knows I’m going with her, and doesn’t think I’m sending her back.”

“Well, let me have a go at it then,” Moira said, getting up from the table and crossing over to her small writing desk. She came back with her paper and a small strip of charcoal to serve as her pencil. “My tutors insisted I learn drawing and painting as part of my fine education, but I’m not sure this is how they’d ever have thought I’d put it to use.”

She began to draw figures that at least resembled Nathaniel and Katia, slightly more involved than Gretchen’s sticks and circles. Beside them, she drew an old woman holding a baby. She labeled each of them by name before remembering that Katia’s alphabet did not resemble their own English letters.

“This is Katia, and Nathaniel, and Mama, and baby,” she began, pointing to each drawing in turn. She looked to Katia, who nodded her head in understanding and smiled weakly. Moira continued to draw. She added train tracks leading toward the right edge of the paper, then a large ship bobbing in the waves created by her squiggly lines. She drew Katia running to her mother with her arms out, her mother holding the baby out to her while a smiling Nathaniel stood squarely beside her on the page.

“Katia, baby, Yell?” Moira asked, drawing a circle that encompassed the three figures. She silently pleaded with Katia, willing her to understand her meaning. The young woman stared with great interest at the pictures, but finally shook her head with an apologetic look. She reached out took the pencil from Moira, then drew Xs through the ship and the waves.

“I knew it!” Nathaniel cried. “She doesn’t want me to go with her. It’s just as I feared!”

“Now, Mr. Russell, there’s no reason to become hysterical! I’m sure it’s just a matter of her not understanding us just yet. Oh, why did I waste my days learning needlework and French when I could have been learning useful talents?” Moira demanded to herself.

“You speak French?” Pryor asked with interest. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Why, yes, husband, oui je sais parler français, for all the good it does me now.” She smiled kindly at him, aware that the vast differences in their educations, her wealthy European nobility upbringing compared to his ability to even read a simple letter, had been a wall between in the beginning.

Katia sat upright in her chair and leaned forward, watching Moira with a hopeful expression. “Parlez-vous français?” she cried. No one moved until Moira finally answered her. Katia jumped up from the table and threw herself into Moira’s arms, tears of relief flooding her face. She began to speak rapidly, gesturing with her hands, pointing at the drawing and at Nathaniel. It was almost overwhelming for Moira, who had not spoken the language to a soul in over a year.

“Yes, I was only allowed to speak French with my tutors and governesses,” she explained in French. “They’d forbidden Irish and my brother had very little love of watching his sister speak English as part of her education.” Katia nodded.

“My father insisted we all learn French, it was his plan to take the family to the countryside outside of Paris and set up a winery with the grapes he’d cultivated in Russia. They were hardy against the cold and he thought they would do well in a place that was so mild, where the French grapes would succumb to the harsh weather in the colder years.” Katia shook her head as she answered, the words flying at a rapid pace, which was unnerving when they were so used to nearly total silence from her. “He wanted my sisters and me to become fluent so he wouldn’t be at the mercy of the merchants and lawyers in France.”

Pryor looked to Gretchen, who only shrugged her shoulders. “I know the language tolerably well, sir, but only what I picked up from attending to my mistress during lessons and practicing with her to keep her instructors from thinking she was lazy. I had no way of knowing the girl could talk to us!” They chatted for a few more moments before Pryor cleared his throat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Moira said when she realized she’d ignored her guests. “Katia has been telling me the most fascinating story.” She began to translate the poor woman’s tale.

“So there you have it,” Moira said, leaning back against her chair slightly. Her head was beginning to ache from interpreting until well past midnight. “It is as some of us suspected. She was married once before, but her husband was killed in a raid on her village when he refused to be pressed into service for the revolution. She only discovered she was with child while making the passage to America.”

“And what of her father?” Gretchen asked nervously, her own parents having died years ago and leaving a soft spot in her heart for anyone who loses a parent.

Katia didn’t need Moira to help her understand. She looked at Gretchen and shook her head, saying pitifully, “No… letter.”

“He never arrived in New York, and he never wrote. They fear the worst,” Moira explained. “So with no father coming to help them and her mother and two sisters to care for—oh, and the baby, a boy named Nikolai, after her father—she signed on to the agency that sends brides out West. She gave Mr. Russell’s entire bride price to her mother to care for what is left of her family and pay for their passage so they could return to Russia. They were all hoping to find positions as nannies because of their good educations.”

“That explains how she arrived with only a small parcel of clothes,” Pryor said. “Most women use the fee to buy their kitchen supplies or any sewing goods they’ll need. Not my wife, of course, but most women.” He laughed and patted Moira’s hand.

“As I recall, because I had not actually signed up to become your wife, I never received a bride price! I’ll settle my accounts with you later then, Mr. MacAteer.” She joined in the laughter and held out her hand as though waiting for her payment, but Pryor only took it and pressed his lips to the palm of her hand. She joked, “I suppose that would be payment in full then!”

“But what do we do now?” Nathaniel asked sadly. He’d been oddly quiet while Moira sorted out the story, watching their faces as they spoke rapidly, back and forth and back again. Moira sat up straighter now.

“She cares for you deeply, Mr. Russell,” she began, then realized she was treading on very personal ground. “And she does wish to marry you.” She looked at Katia, who was looking at Nathaniel and nodding. “But she is very grateful for your offer to retrieve her son. Are you still willing?”

“Of course I am! I said I would, and I mean it! I’ll just have to find a buyer for my claim, and then I can use that money to pay for our passage.” He leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest, his mind made up.

Moira exchanged a glance with Pryor. He watched her face while she cocked her head in Nathaniel’s direction briefly, then he nodded almost imperceptibly. Moira turned to Nathaniel but looked away.

“Mr. Russell, I fear that part of Katia’s heart also belongs here. If she wanted to live in close quarters in a city far away, she could have done so back when she left her mother. She would be horrified to know that you’d given up your land to help her son. So I propose another solution.”

She waited, looking to Gretchen, who was as unaware as Nathaniel.

“I’ll go with Katia to get the baby.”

“You, Mrs. MacAteer? A woman? One who’s just had a baby of her own? I can’t let you do that! And then there’s the matter of the passage fare. I have to sell my land to cover the expense and still have enough left over to put down on a room in the city when we return.”

“I am, how shall I say this… a woman of means, if you remember, Mr. Russell? My brother sees to my care out of our estate just as he would have done had I married a man in Ireland and remained there. My dear husband does not like to encroach on another man, even one who is now his family, and so my yearly allowance goes into an account on my behalf. My brother feels it would be akin to taking my inheritance from me, should he not place my sum in that account, but my husband feels it is taking another man’s charity to touch those funds.”

“And so, the account sits, growing steadily larger each month. Therefore, it would be my honor and my wedding gift to you to let me help you this way. And while Katia and I are gone—oh, and Gretchen, we mustn’t forget to include you—you will have your land to tend, and you may consider adding to your home to include rooms for your new child and any brothers or sisters you give him.”

“I… I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless!” he began. Nathaniel turned to Pryor, but he only shrugged.

“You’ll have to fight my wife on this one, Nathaniel. I only fight with her when I have to, mostly because I usually lose.” They all laughed, even Katia, who found Pryor’s suddenly somber expression amusing.

“I’ll write off for the proper credentials and travel permissions,” Moira said. “It would be exceptionally nice if we could meet my brother in Liverpool and have a visit!”

They finished their conversation and the platters that Gretchen had gotten out as they spoke, then retired for the night. Moira was thrilled to see Katia slip her hand into Nathaniel’s to descend the stairs, but left it there as they walked to his wagon. Gretchen turned on the top stair and faced Moira.

“So we’re really traveling by ship again?” she asked hesitantly.

“Aye, ‘twould seem so. But I promise it won’t be so bad as the voyage you and I made to America. That was a rushed affair, and I was glad to get passage on any ship I could find to get away from the wretched Lord Macomby’s wedding plans. No, I’ve funds enough, we’ll travel first class this time, and enjoy ourselves on the journey. I promise!”

Gretchen still looked unconvinced, and her features clouded over. “What would you say if I told you I might stay in Ireland instead of coming back with you?”

“Oh…” Moira began, but had nothing to say for a moment. She cleared her thoughts to avoid saying anything hurtful. “Would you wish to do so?”

“I’ve thought about it, I’ll admit. I feel a little… out of sorts here. I don’t really have a place in Montana.”

“Of course you do! You were once my servant, to be sure, but you’re no longer in my service. Now you’re my friend, my oldest, and dearest friend!” Moira cried, hugging her tightly before realizing what she was really doing. She stepped back but held Gretchen by the arms. “But if you long for home, then I can naw make you stay. That would once again be the actions of your mistress if I compelled you to stay. ‘Tis entirely your choice. I hope you’ll stay, to be sure, and I’ll beg you to stay right up until the moment you decide not to, but I understand if you miss home. If you’re very certain, should I write to Lord Brennan and ask for a position for you in his household? Unless you’d rather not return to a life of service?”

Gretchen shrugged. “I don’t know. I truly haven’t thought this through, as I didn’t have passage fare to go home. But now that I do, it’s something to consider.”

“Well then,” Moira said, forcing a bright smile on her face. “You’ve got some thinking to do. If you wish to return to Montana with us at the end of the journey, then I desperately want you here. But if you can naw stop your heart from missing Ireland, then I won’t have you anywhere else. You have my utmost blessing to be anywhere that makes you happy!”

She hugged Gretchen one more time before telling her goodnight and made it inside the cabin before giving way to violent tears.