Hannah Howell (7 page)

Agnes stood next to the tub, folding her hands in front of her, and began, “Dearest, I know you are marrying him to help us, but—”

“Wait, Mama. Yes, I
am
marrying Ballard MacGregor for you and the boys, but I am also doing it for myself.” She frowned at the sliver of lavenderscented soap, all that remained of her favorite, and then began to wash.

“For yourself? I fear I do not understand. You have known this Mr. MacGregor for only a few hours. How can you care for him so quickly?”

“Oh, I do not mean that. I am marrying him for my own good as well as for the good of the rest of you. When Papa died and Thomas did not come around, then continued to stay away, I began to doubt the wisdom of relying on him. I went and looked for work, Mama, any work at all. I searched for a new home for us. The more I looked, the more I realized it would be a struggle to provide you and the boys with even one shabby room and one meager meal a day. Even with the fine lace you can make and
sell, and with the boys picking up some coin here and there, our prospects were frighteningly dismal.”

“It was truly that bad?”

“Yes, it was truly that bad. To be blunt, Mama, the best offer I got was from the owner of the Sly Dog.” She nodded when her mother gasped in shock. “It all became too much for me, Mama, as much as I hate to admit that. I felt crippled with the weight of responsibility. Then I met Ballard.” She started to wash her hair.

“Just how did you meet him?”

“On my way home from Thomas’s offices I was set upon by a brutish frontiersman. Ballard came to my rescue. As he escorted me home I discovered that he was looking for a wife, and courting Sarah Marsten.”

“Yet another man courting Sarah? What is it about that woman that they all want?”

“Well, she
is
very pretty, fair and fulsome, and rich. Ballard believed that the interest she showed in him was more sincere than it was. I knew Thomas was there today so I waited for Ballard to leave Sarah’s. Then I offered to be his wife. He will get a wife with all the learning and etiquette he thinks he wants, and we will get a home and a provider. It seems a fair deal to me.” Clover reached for the bucket of rinse water for her hair.

Agnes stepped forward and picked up the bucket. “I will do that for you. Close your eyes and lean your head back.”

Once Clover’s hair was rinsed, she watched her thoughtful mother a little warily. Matters would go a great deal more smoothly if her mother accepted the marriage.

“He does appear to be a good man,” Agnes murmured.

“He does,” agreed Clover as she stepped out of the tub, picked up the large cloth draped over a stool, and began to dry herself. “The bathwater is still hot.”

Agnes hesitated only a moment before undressing and stepping into the tub. “He is very good-looking too.”

“Yes, and do you know, Mama, I have the strongest feeling he does not know just how handsome he is.”

“That can only be for the best. His manner is definitely rough, but he has a lot of gentlemanly qualities.”

Clover donned her robe and moved to help her mother wash her hair. “I know it is hard to say for certain, as I have known him for so short a time, but I have already formed a few opinions of his character. I believe he was being quite himself when he was with me, no airs at all. In truth, I do not think he knows how to be otherwise.”

“Another good thing. So, what is your judgment of his character?”

“Well, he can fight, yet is willing to avoid it. He has a sense of honor and likes to tease. I know he was furious when he left Sarah’s house, but he was able to set his anger aside quickly. He says what he thinks, and for all it makes me blush, I believe I like that. I often had the feeling with Thomas that he was not being fully honest with me. Ballard also made it very clear what he seeks in a wife.”

“And what is that?”

“Someone to keep his house, work beside him if need be, not whine if he cannot afford certain fineries, have his babies, and keep his bed warm.”

“Blunt, indeed,” Agnes murmured as she stepped out of the tub and began to dry off. “No wonder you
blush.” She sighed. “Well, I suppose he will give you some time to know him before you are truly man and wife.”

“No, Mama, he will not.” Clover shrugged. “He admits that he ought to, but he is not of a mind to do so.”

“Oh dear, oh dear. All those things I told you when you became betrothed to Thomas—well—I mean, I thought you were to be married for love.” Agnes continued to frown and shake her head as she took her robe from a hook on the door and put it on. “I simply have no idea what to tell you now.”

“I should not worry about it, Mama.”

“But, dear, without love—” Agnes faltered, at a loss for words.

“Mama,” Clover began, blushing as she confessed, “he has already kissed me.”

“Such a bold man.”

“Well, he said a man ought to be able to kiss the woman who has proposed to him.” Clover could not repress a smile as she recalled his teasing remark.

“Oh, my saints, do you think he means to remember that?”

“I suspect it is not a thing a man easily forgets.”

Agnes smiled faintly, then grew serious again. “I do not speak of mere kisses, Clover.”

“I know, Mama. I will be honest, for I wish to ease your mind.” Clover started to fuss about, tidying up the room, so that she did not have to look her mother in the eye and embarrass them both. “I like his kisses, Mama. Very much. Truth to tell, I find it hard to think when he puts his arms around me and smiles at me. I want to keep on kissing him. I know it is not love. How can it be after so short an acquaintance? Yet I
feel no fear of becoming his wife in all ways. In fact, I have the strongest feeling that I shall enjoy it.” She shook her head. “I am explaining myself badly.” She gave a start of surprise when she felt her mother’s hand on her arm.

“I know exactly what you mean, Clover. Of course, I felt it for your father.” A brief spasm of grief darkened Agnes’s face. “That was love. But I am speaking of another man.” Agnes blushed and gave a nervous giggle. “When your papa was courting me, I met this other man—Colin—and, oh, such a man he was. His voice, his smile, each and every aspect of his character and form sent me into a veritable swoon.”

“What happened?”

“Well, your mother is not as flighty as she often appears to be. I knew it was his beauty and the often careless desires of youth that had my feckless heart pounding. Fortunately, Colin was a good man and not one to force a girl to change her mind.” Agnes blushed again. “I knew then, and still do, that it would have been a glorious experience to have him as my lover, but I truly loved your father. I could not risk the future I knew I could have with him for something that might not last, that might be a fleeting if heady thing.”

“Do you think that is all I suffer from now? A fleeting infatuation? Simply youth and hot blood?”

“At this moment—quite probably. But, unlike myself and Colin, you and Mr. MacGregor are planning a future. You will soon be married and are prepared to make a home and a family. This feeling he stirs inside you can only be good.”

“I am glad you think so.”

“You do not?”

“It is just that I begin to wonder if I am not merely selling myself, if I am little better than a whore.”

“No, child. You are marrying the man for the same reasons that many a woman takes a husband. Your needs are simply more pressing. I am sorry that I cannot be of more help to you. I was one of a very fortunate few because there was love between your father and me, but I would have been married sooner or later in any case, with or without love. No, marrying Ballard MacGregor does not make you a whore.”

“I should have liked to have found what you and Papa shared. I thought I had it with Thomas.”

“You may yet find love, dear.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“Of course. You and Mr. MacGregor will be man and wife, and if he speaks true, he is most serious about marriage. He seems to want all that marriage and family can give a man. Since you will both be working hard toward the same goal, there is good reason to hope for something good. If not a deep, true love, then comfort, security, and compatibility. Do not frown, child. Those things are very valuable, as valuable as love. I was fortunate to get most of them as well as love from your father.”

“Yes, I see how fortunate you were.”

“And you may yet find that you have the same good luck. I too feel that Mr. MacGregor is an honorable man. Now, let us go and have some tea.”

Agnes made no further comment about Ballard and the upcoming marriage until she and Clover were comfortably seated in the sitting room of the master suite and Molly had served them tea. Molly also brought word that Ballard had sent a message—he had found a preacher, and their marriage was
arranged to take place at four the next afternoon. As she sipped the strong, fragrant tea and savored a freshly baked scone smothered in butter, Clover sensed that her mother had more to say. She realized that she did not mind discussing the matter. It was helping her clear up a few of her own doubts and concerns.

“There is one small thing that still troubles me,” Agnes finally said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

“And what is that, Mama?” Clover wiped her fingers on a fine linen napkin and wondered if it too would have to be sold.

“You and Mr. MacGregor are from two very different worlds.”

“Do you really think that matters?”

“It can, Clover. Differences in taste, in learning, even in manners can prove to be a trial in marriage.”

“Ballard claims that that is the very difference he seeks.”

“Does he?”

“Yes. He told me that his circumstances are improving and he believes they will continue to do so. He spoke of how Kentucky is becoming more settled and civilized every day, that it is no longer the haven of trappers and rough backwoodsmen. Since he intends to continue to prosper, he wants what I can bring to him and to our family. He wants the learning and etiquette that we are taught from the cradle. Ballard sees it all as part of the advancement he is seeking.”

“It is a wise man who recognizes such a thing and seeks it out. Well, there is another worry laid to rest.”

“Did you have a lot, Mama?” Clover asked helping herself to another scone.

“What mother would not when her daughter
announces that she is to marry a man she has known for only a few hours?” Agnes buttered another scone, hesitated, then spread a thin layer of apple preserves on it.

Clover smiled crookedly. “I have a few qualms myself.”

“As you should at such a time. Marriage is forever, or it should be. That thought, even when love burns strongly, can be frightening. To commit oneself to a situation, to another person, for a lifetime is not easy.”

The mere thought of it had Clover taking a bracing sip of tea.
Forever
and
lifetime
were two words that had been echoing intermittently in her head since she had first proposed to Ballard. As she left her mother’s room and went to her own to dress, she wondered if Ballard was also wrestling with those weighty words.

Ballard grimaced as he hurried out of the small riverside church, his brother and cousin right behind him. The aging Reverend Denning had been inclined to pontificate on the dangers of a hasty marriage, which Ballard had found increasingly irritating. The way Shelton and Lambert had nodded their agreement to a lot of what the reverend said had only further soured Ballard’s mood.

“Ballard,” Shelton began.

“Not now, brother. That reverend droned on so long I am late for my meeting with Mr. Grendall.”

“We ought to talk.”

“Right now I have been talked near to death.” Ballard pointed at a neat, white inn that stood just
beyond the less reputable dock area. “I am going in there to try and convince Mr. Grendall he wants to pay good money for our horses. I will pay our room bill while I am there. Ye can come with me or find something else to do.”

Shelton grimaced. “I think we will go have us an ale at a less proper tavern. Do ye want us to take our belongings over to the Sherwoods?”

“Nay. I will have the innkeeper’s lads do that.”

“Fine. We will meet ye back at the Sherwoods come mealtime,” Shelton called as he and Lambert turned and headed toward the waterfront.

As Ballard entered the inn, he met the plump, graying Grendall preparing to leave. He heartily apologized to the man, explained his tardiness, and soon had the man seated at a table sharing some ale. Across the way, Ballard noticed Thomas Dillingsworth deep in conversation with a man at a small table near the massive fireplace, but when the man paid him no heed, Ballard turned his full attention back to Grendall. They discussed prices as they drank, Ballard praising the quality of the stallion and two mares he had to offer, and Mr. Grendall playing the part of a man of severely limited funds.

Once they had finished their drinks, Ballard escorted Mr. Grendall out to the inn’s stables where he had quartered his horses. He left Grendall standing there and went to get his stallion. As he led the horse out, Ballard saw the look on Mr. Grendall’s round face and knew he would get his full asking price after the appropriate amount of haggling.

Just as he and Mr. Grendall neared an agreement, Ballard saw Thomas approaching. He tensed. Thomas stared at the black stallion for a long moment before
coming closer. He greeted Mr. Grendall with cool politeness but just nodded at Ballard. The gesture was so short as to be rude, and Ballard felt his insides knot with anger over the insult.

Thomas ran his hand over the stallion’s taut, strong flank. “Grendall, my man, I had no idea you had such fine horseflesh in your stables.”

“He is not in my stables yet. Mr. MacGregor and I are just now discussing my purchasing the beast.”

Ballard gave Thomas a cold smile when the man finally looked at him. He realized he neither liked nor trusted Thomas Dillingsworth, and not simply because of the way the man had treated Clover. Something about Thomas made him uneasy, put him immediately on his guard.

“So this stallion is for sale, is he?” Thomas abruptly offered a price twice what Mr. Grendall had offered. “I can have the coin for you within the hour.”