The Glassblower (14 page)

“But I want you to.” His tone gentled. “My dear, I need to see your future secure, for my peace of mind.”

“Father?” Meg rushed to his side. “You’re not ill, are you? Please, tell me you’re not ill. Did you go to Philadelphia to see a physician? Father—”

“Hush.” He caressed her cheek. “I’m fit as a fiddle. But I wasn’t a young man when I married your mother, and we must all face our mortality one day. I want this farm and the glassworks in the hands of a man who can see them prosper and regain the investment I’ve made to get the glassworks going again. Your mother said I shouldn’t start up until I had saved enough to remain debt free, but I broke that promise in my grief and borrowed too much money. So we need someone who can keep the glassworks building profits. Joseph is that man.”

And Colin wasn’t. Father didn’t need to say so for Meg to understand this. He knew nothing of farming. Colin was a fine artisan, but he had never managed a business, didn’t know about sales and accounts and bankers. She knew how to run a household and cook a fine meal, sew a nearly invisible seam and almost knit, but no one had taught her more management skills than being wise with the household accounts. Too many people depended on them for their livelihoods to entrust the land to inexperienced persons.

“Please, Father, not yet.” She sank to her knees and laid her cheek against his arm as she had as a child. “Give me time to learn. I did well with my sums. I can learn. Many women run their own farms and businesses, too.”

Father patted her on the head. “I’ll try to keep him from pushing his suit until after the first of the year as I promised, daughter, but Joseph is a man who goes after what he wants with fervor. Right now, he wants two things—you as his wife and repayment of the money I borrowed from him. Now, let us go into the parlor and read some scripture.”

She chose Colossians and stumbled over the third chapter. “If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.” Then the later verses about obedience to one’s parents being pleasing to God.

She wanted to agree to marry Joseph, even let him announce their betrothal at Sarah’s wedding, but because her heart rebelled, she could say nothing. If she kept herself occupied, she didn’t need to think about it and nearly managed not to think about Colin.

Occupation was easy with the wedding three days off. A local seamstress had made Meg’s gown, but she needed to finish the embroidery around the neck and hem. She and Sarah helped make pastries and breads and peel mounds of potatoes for the fifty guests who would enjoy a buffet at the Thompsons’ after the ceremony. She spent the night at the Thompson house so she could assist Sarah in washing, curling, and pinning up her heavy auburn tresses.

At last Sarah, quiet but smiling, glowing in her pink velvet gown, stood ready to go to the church. Her female cousins surrounded her in their own velvet dresses, like a pastel flower garden of primrose, lilac, and pale blue.

Meg had chosen a darker blue for her own gown and stitched the neck and hem with tiny white roses. She wore white silk roses in her hair. Everyone told her she looked stunning. She didn’t once glance in a mirror to verify the truth of their words. Her looks didn’t matter.

As quiet as Sarah, Meg climbed into the carriage Father had sent over to fetch her, and she managed not to sigh with disappointment when she saw Joseph sitting beside her parent.

“Next winter,” Joseph said, “I’ll buy you a fur-lined cloak.”

Meg clenched her hands together inside her muff. “I’m quite warm enough in this one, thank you.”

But if he was her husband, she couldn’t stop him from buying anything he liked. Nor, since he was the man her father had chosen for her, could she stop him from escorting her into the church for the ceremony. She could, however, ignore him as Sarah and Peter exchanged their vows, their faces glowing brighter than the candles massed along the altar to counteract the gloom of a winter day.

Meg’s eyes dimmed and blurred with tears. She wanted that kind of love. She rejoiced for her friend, but her heart ached.

When she stood and turned to go at the end of the service, she caught a glimpse of sunset red hair at the back of the sanctuary. Her heart constricted. With all her will, she stopped herself from pushing through the throng of the congregation to join Colin at the back. But no will in the world stopped the prayer she sent to the Lord, asking, pleading, begging Him to change her circumstances. She then took Joseph’s proffered arm to exit the church. When she reached the benches at the rear of the church, Colin was gone.

Outside, snow fell like sugar crystals to ice the ground. Ladies paused to strap on the wooden pattens that added inches to their height and kept their light slippers and long dresses dry. Meg clung to Joseph’s arm then to keep her balance and received the warmest smile he’d ever bestowed upon her.

“Peter may be the luckiest man today,” Joseph said, “but I’m surely the second luckiest to have you on my arm.”

“They look so happy.” Meg sighed. “And Sarah is beautiful.”

“You’re even prettier.” Joseph patted her hand. “How did you get such a pretty daughter, Jordan?”

Father laughed. “Her mother.”

“Guessed as much.” Joseph nodded to the line of carriages and horses heading to the Thompson house. “How will they manage all these vehicles?”

“They hired extra men from around the county,” Father explained. “It won’t be easy with all the snow.”

“That’s why I’m willing to wait for a spring wedding.” Joseph patted a lock of his hair away from his brow. “One runs the risk of mud, but it’s not as bad as snow. And I do like to think of Margaret in silk. Pale blue silk. I’ll buy a bolt when I’m in New York the week after Christmas.”

“You mustn’t,” Meg cried. “That’s far too much.”

“No no, it’s not beyond my budget.” Joseph chuckled. “Nor is a fine wedding.”

“I will pay for my daughter’s wedding.” Father’s voice turned as frosty as the air. Meg gritted her teeth.

“Will there be dancing tonight?” Joseph asked.

“No, the house isn’t big enough.” Meg caught a glimpse of the house, ablaze with light and bursting with guests, and smiled. “But there is music.”

“Too bad.” Joseph prepared to exit the carriage first. “I did want to dance with you, Margaret, and I’ll be gone for the Christmas party.”

“That’s unfortunate for you.”

The carriage stopped. Joseph alighted and assisted Meg to the ground then led her inside. Warmth and noise and the aromas of roasting meats and candied fruits greeted them. Meg managed to elude Joseph long enough to take her cloak to an upstairs bedchamber and tuck a few pins more securely into her hair. Once downstairs, she found Sarah and Peter and hugged them both.

“It’ll be you next,” Sarah said.

Meg merely smiled and turned to greet some neighbors who lived farther away and usually attended a different church.

“When are you getting married?” two matrons asked her in succession.

“When I find a man who loves me like Peter loves Sarah,” she responded.

“You young girls read too many novels, to have those kinds of notions.” An elderly lady patted Meg’s cheek. “You want a man who can provide you with a good home and fine children.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She smiled and agreed until her face hurt, and all the while she wished Colin stood beside her, his hand tucked into the crook of her arm as Peter held Sarah close to his side. She would smile up at him and let everyone see how much she loved him—

“I’ve brought you a plate of food.” Joseph stood in front of her bearing two laden plates. “Come. There’s a table here in the dining room, where we can be comfortable. I paid one of the servants to keep it empty for us.”

Martha Dalbow, in her Sunday best, guarded the two places. She smiled at Meg then darted away to pick up an empty serving plate.

“Martha isn’t a servant.” Meg seated herself in the chair Joseph pulled out. “She’s my friend.”

“If she were your friend,” Joseph drawled, “she would be sitting at the table, not waiting on it.”

Meg closed her eyes and prayed for a still tongue.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Joseph asked. “The food is good. Plain but good. When we get married—”

“Will you please excuse me.” Feeling so hot she couldn’t breathe, Meg pushed back her chair. She rose and exited the room before Joseph managed to stand.

The house wasn’t big enough nor the crowd dense enough for her to hide from him. So she kept going through the parlor, into the entryway, and out the front door. The blast of snow-laden air cleared her head instantly. She stood on the porch for a moment, breathing in gulps of clear air; then, hearing the scrape of shovels on the flagstones of the walk, she descended the steps and walked into the darkness of the yard, heedless of snow soaking into her shoes. She wouldn’t be there for long, just enough to regain her composure and set her roiling stomach to rights.

She heard no footfalls on the white carpet, but when a hand curved over her shoulder, she neither jumped nor cried out. A scent, a touch, or perhaps pure instinct told her who stood behind her before he spoke.

“Are you all right then, lass?”

“I am now.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “But why are you here?”

“I’m helping out with the snow shoveling.”

“What about your hand?”

“‘Tis all right.” For a moment he rested his cheek atop her head. “What drove you into the snow?”

“It was hot and noisy inside, and everyone kept asking me when I’m going to get married. And Joseph keeps talking about how much better our wedding will be than Sarah and Peter’s.”

“I expect it will be.” He lowered his hand from her shoulder but didn’t move away from her. “If you marry him, that is.”

“If? I don’t see that I have a choice.”

“I wish it weren’t so.”

“Me, too. I just wish—I wish I knew why he is so determined to marry me.”

“‘Tis simple for me to understand.” Tenderness infused his tone. “He wants to be an important man. To him, that means having possessions he can show off. And you, lass, are a wife to show off.”

“I’m not an ornament.” She shuddered.

“Well, having you on one’s arm would do a man’s pride good.” He sounded as though he smiled. “What concerns me about Mr. Pyle is the lengths to which he will go to get what he wants.”

Meg gasped. “What are you saying?”

“Naught for which I have the proof.” His accent thickened. “But if I did, I would be standing up in the kirk to denounce his right to wed you.”

“Colin, you couldn’t. You could lose your position at the glassworks. Your family would suffer if you angered him and Father.”

“Aye, they might, but what about you suffering if I have the knowledge and do naught about it?”

“Do you know something?” She clenched her fists. “If so, tell me.”

“I’m gathering the proof first, lass. Meanwhile, try not to announce your marriage. Unless—” Frost tinged his voice. “Unless you want to marry an important man.”

“You know I don’t want to be important,” Meg cried. “I want to be loved.”

Someone opened the door of the house, and fiddle music and laughter danced into the night. Then the door closed. The music ceased.

In the ensuing stillness Colin murmured, “You are, lass. You are most certainly loved.”

She straightened, turned, faced him. “Colin, I lo—”

“Nay.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “Do not say it until you’re certain you will not wed the man.”

“You know I must. Father—Colin, I’m afraid Joseph is using Father’s debt to him to force this marriage.”

“Aye, it seems likely, and ‘tis a good reason why you should not wed the man.”

“What do you know?”

“I do not ken for certain, but one cannot help but overhear bits of conversation from time to time. It seems Pyle loaned your father money to restart the glassworks,” Colin explained, “and now the note is due without the profit to pay it yet.”

“And I’m payment for the debt.” Despite the crisp, clear air, Meg could scarcely breathe. “I can take care of my own future, but I don’t know what Father would do without the glassworks or maybe even the farm.”

“Aye, which is why I am hoping I’m wrong in thinking what I am of Joseph Pyle, if you will wed him.”

“I can’t abandon the needs of my father any more than you can abandon the needs of your family.”

“I’ll do my best to change things. There must be a way out.”

“If there were, I’d take it.”

Colin’s chest rose and fell in a silent sigh. “You should go back inside before you catch a chill.” He brushed snow from her hair then let his fingertips linger against her cheek.

She didn’t move. She feared even a breath would dislodge his hand from her face, would send her skittering across the snowy grass in an opposite direction to his. If she remained motionless, the moment would last as long as she wanted it to. There in the night, a gauzy curtain of snow sheltered them from the music and laughter in the house, where half a hundred people celebrated someone else’s wedding.

“I can’t go in there.” Meg clasped his hand against her face. “I can’t go back there and pretend I’m happy. I want to stay out here with you, where I don’t have to pretend.”

“Aye, lass, the pretending lies in thinking we don’t have to say good-bye.” He curved his other hand beneath her chin. “Or that I have a right to this.”

He touched his lips to hers. His kiss was warm and gentle and far too brief. Before her heart remembered to beat, before she thought to respond, he drew his hands away from her face, turned his back on her, and vanished behind the swirling mantle of snow.

Meg decided to set up a Christmas party to introduce her school to the county. She could serve hot cider and coffee and little cakes and give the children some sort of gift, like a bag of sweets. The planning would keep her occupied, would steer her mind away from thoughts of Colin, of the kiss, of his walking away from her because she insisted she must marry Joseph for everyone’s sake. Activity must fill up the empty place in her heart.

Christmas lay three weeks off, and Father and she always entertained on Christmas Eve. She must plan for that, too, not to mention help Ilse clean and cook and decorate the house with evergreen boughs and holly berries. But no mistletoe this year. Meg wouldn’t risk Joseph coming across her standing beneath it. After Colin’s kiss, she never wanted another man to so much as touch her hand.