Finding Sovereignty: Book 2: Reidar & Kirsten (The Hansen Series - Martin & Dagny and Reidar & Kirsten)

by Kris Tualla

  Kirsten narrowed her eyes. “And yet?”

  Emil laughed again. “You are a most astute young woman.”

  “Thank you. Now answer the question,” she challenged.

  He hesitated, obviously gathering his words. “I’m not certain that a man of my particular temperament will be a satisfactory choice for a vibrant young woman such as yourself.”

  Now it was Kirsten’s turn to gather her words. She contemplated how much to say at this juncture, and how much to hold back, in the event Emil came forward with his intentions at a later date.

  “I am of the opinion, Emil, that we should continue to know each other better before any choices are made,” she said carefully. “If we do decide we might suit, a frank conversation of expectations would be warranted at that time.”

  Emil bounced a series of small nods. “I see the wisdom in that approach. But you will consider my words, will you not?”

  Kirsten gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “I do believe you might be surprised to learn more of my ‘particular temperament’ as well,” she offered.

  Emil gave her a startled look. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed it.”

  Kirsten realized with a jolt that there was more to their cloaked conversation than she understood. Yet she didn’t feel comfortable asking Emil for an explanation here in the carriage. Instead, she offered him her hand.

  “I look forward to seeing you again,” she murmured.

  Emil kissed the back of her glove. “My lady, it was a pleasure.”

  He disembarked without trying to kiss her.

  *****

  Marit was waiting up for her return. Kirsten had no objections—but she did have questions.

  “How was your evening?” her mother asked before Kirsten could open her mouth.

  “Quite a success. We raised several hundreds of dollars,” Kirsten answered just to be contrary.

  “You know what I mean,” Marit scolded, adding, “But well done.”

  “Thank you, Mamma.” Kirsten settled in a chair and removed her gloves. “These events are so exhausting. I’m not certain when I’ll host another, if ever.”

  “Perhaps you will have other things to occupy your time,” Marit suggested with no attempt to hide what things she referred to.

  “How did you come across Lord Helland?” Kirsten asked of a sudden. She sipped the cup of chamomile tea her mother offered, curious as to the answer.

  “He sent a letter of introduction, listing his lineage and royal connections,” Marit responded. “I sent a letter to Denmark concerning his claims, and then invited him to Philadelphia straightaway when they were confirmed.”

  Kirsten nodded her understanding. “He is actually quite charming.”

  “Will you see him again?” Marit’s voiced quivered with hope.

  “I believe so. I wouldn’t be surprised if he called on me,” Kirsten admitted. “But he is rather poor, isn’t he?”

  Marit made a dismissive gesture. “He fell on hard times when the war began. His business dealt with imported goods.”

  “And he ran afoul of the English, I’ll wager?” Kirsten opined.

  Marit gave an apologetic shrug and a beguiling smile. “This war has been a trial for us all.”

  Kirsten’s gaze moved around their richly appointed drawing room. Perhaps not for all.

  “So by marrying me, he would regain his lost wealth,” she stated the obvious.

  “And you, Datter, would gain a husband with the correct background for your station,” Marit concluded the thought.

  Kirsten gave her mother a wan smile. “Everyone wins their objective.”

  “Yes,” Marit patted Kirsten’s knee the way she had when Kirsten was a child. “Everyone wins.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  June 26, 1782

  Cheltenham

  Reid was astounded by how much work a hundred bodies could accomplish in less than a week. James’ slaves followed his wagon on foot from St. Louis to his land grant in Cheltenham the day after Reid met Beatrice. Once there, they set up a city of tents and stone-edged fire circles. Some of the women cooked while the majority set to clearing the land.

  During a trip to St. Louis a couple weeks earlier, James ordered stone and brick to be delivered. Now that he had the labor, his house was beginning to take solid shape. James moved his camp away from Reid’s to oversee every aspect of its construction.

  The spot James chose for his house was a mile-and-a-half from where Reid’s house would stand. Only a twenty-five minute walk through the forest, following the creek. Still, Reid missed their nightly conversations and shared meals. His loneliness deepened as he contemplated that this was the way his life would progress now that Beatrice was in Missouri.

  “Will you be able to plant anything this summer, do you believe?” Reid asked as the men drove to St. Louis. Each week that they did so, the road became more established.

  James nodded. “Root vegetables like turnips or beets should do fine, if I plant next month. Some greens as well, though they won’t sustain us over the winter.”

  “I’ll be hunting, remember,” Reid said. “I can’t eat an entire elk or bison by myself.”

  James grinned at him. “That’s generous of you, Reid. Thank you.”

  Reid huffed a laugh. “After all these trips to St. Louis, complete with room and board, I owe you a debt.”

  “I told you, you are doing me a favor!” James countered. “Especially now that I have to leave my wife behind and ride back with you.”

  “Don’t get any ideas. I’ll not sleep in your camp,” Reid joked.

  James punched him in the arm.

  Once they reached St. Louis, Reid left James at the hotel and drove the wagon to the hardware and tack store to buy hinges for his door and shutters, plus another bag of cement for the stone edging of his well. Eventually he would dig deep enough for a pump, but for now he was simply tired of hauling water from the creek. Plus, he needed a water supply that reached below the freeze line for the coming winter.

  James was a lucky fellow, Reid mused as he traversed the streets of St. Louis alone. In fact, the man was probably swiving his wife right now.

  Reid pushed Kirsten from his thoughts and considered the brothel which he was unintentionally driving the wagon towards. Would he ever seek comfort in such a place?

  Perhaps.

  There was no ‘perhaps not’ that followed the thought.

  “Not today,” he muttered. “Not until I come to the city alone.”

  Not that he thought James would chastise him for making such a choice, but because James would probably tease him mercilessly if he knew. Admittedly, Reid would do the same if the situation was switched, so he couldn’t blame his friend. Life would be easier without that added harassment was all.

  Reid turned the wagon toward the hotel. After weeks of washing in the creek, he felt like a hot bath on this trip. And a shave. His spirits needed the boost if he was to refrain from sinking into a morbid mood at supper with James and the lovely Beatrice.

  *****

  James’ wife’s wide eyes looked like dinner plates when Reid walked into the dining room. Reid looked over his shoulder, expecting to see some ten-foot-tall monstrosity following him. When he found nothing out of the ordinary, he faced Beatrice again.

  “What’s amiss?” he demanded, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

  Beatrice fanned herself. “Good Lord, is that what you look like?”

  Reid shifted his gaze to James. “What is she talking about?”

  James rubbed his chin. “I believe what my wife is trying to say is, that once the fur and filth of our rough life is removed, you cut a very respectable figure.”

  “Oh!” Reid felt his face catch fire. He gave Beatrice a stiffly embarrassed bow. “Thank you, madam.”

  Beatrice continued to fan herself. “It’s warm in here, don’t you think?”

  “Very,” Reid grumbled as he took his seat.

  James was the only one of the
trio who appeared unconcerned. “I was telling Beatrice about our house this afternoon,” he began a new subject.

  Reid nodded and signaled to the waiter. “A pitcher of beer, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered and hurried to the task.

  Reid looked at Beatrice who stared at him quite openly. “The house is coming along quite impressively,” he concurred. “Of course, your husband chose the perfect spot and had already begun digging out the foundation.”

  “I look forward to seeing it,” she replied with a crooked grin, obviously marking his emphasis.

  When the pitcher arrived, Reid poured mugs for himself and James while James selected a wine for Beatrice. Food choices were agreed on and their supper order placed.

  Beatrice leaned on her elbows and pinned Reid with a different sort of gaze than when he first entered the room. “You are not married.”

  “No,” he rumbled.

  “What have you been doing with your life?” she asked.

  Reid shot a glance at James. “Did you tell her nothing about me?”

  James grinned at him. “You have not come up in our ‘conversations’ thus far.”

  “Besides,” Beatrice interjected, taking her husband’s hand, “I’d rather hear it from you.”

  Reid drained half of his mug and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I was in the Continental Army for nine years.”

  “No time for a wife. I suppose that makes sense,” Beatrice allowed. “But what about now?”

  Reid’s brow lowered. “What about now?”

  “Is there no one you wish to share your new life with?” she dug.

  Reid’s glance shot to James. During their campfire talks his friend had heard plenty about Kirsten and the heartbreak of leaving her behind. How he wished James would jump into the conversation now and spare Reid the pain of having to tell the story again.

  But he didn’t.

  “There was someone,” Reid admitted.

  Beatrice leaned closer, her voice low. “What happened?”

  “She wouldn’t have me,” he said quietly.

  Beatrice gave Reid a puzzled frown. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  Reid shrugged. “You already have. One more doesn’t matter.”

  She pinned his gaze with hers. “What did you do wrong?”

  “What? Nothing!” he blustered.

  Beatrice wagged a finger in front of his face. “You are wrong, Reid.”

  “How can you say such a thing?” he demanded. “You cannot know that.”

  Beatrice turned to her husband. “May I speak honestly?”

  James waved a hand in permission, the amusement in his expression infuriating. Beatrice regarded Reid again. His jaw jutted; he was ready to fight.

  “You are a very, very handsome man, now that you are cleaned up and we can see your face,” she began. “You are intelligent, educated, experienced, hard-working, honest, and loyal.”

  Reid glared at James.

  His friend made an apologetic face. “Fine, I’ll admit it. Perhaps you did come up in one conversation.”

  Reid pulled a calming breath. His jaw relaxed as he tried to think of an objection to Beatrice’s compliments, though that pursuit felt ingenuous and, quite frankly, stupid. Who in their right mind would object to such a glowing description?

  “What is your point?” he growled.

  “My point is, any woman would be honored to walk down the street on your arm,” she said. “So what did you do wrong that sent her away?”

  “It wasn’t because of me,” he insisted.

  “Did she love you?”

  He nodded. “She said she did.”

  “Then what was it, Reid?” Beatrice pressed.

  He glared at her, trying to find the words that would explain Kirsten’s situation while protecting her private shame.

  “She has a mistrust of men,” he managed. “Some distant family members were cruel to her.”

  Beatrice’s demeanor softened in an instant. “Did she tell you about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “All of it?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

  “And what did you say?” she whispered.

  “I said—” Reid’s voice cracked as memories flushed his body and stole his strength. He cleared his throat. “I said that I was willing to marry her anyway.”

  Beatrice’ eyes rounded with none of the flattering admiration they held earlier. This time, she appeared utterly horrified.

  “Was she a charity case?” she yelped.

  “That’s what she said!” he shouted. “No! Why would anyone say such a thing?”

  Reid looked at James hoping his friend would second Reid’s outrage. Instead, James gave him a pained expression. Confused, true, yet still pained.

  “Willing?” Beatrice repeated. “Anyway?”

  Reid’s mouth flapped open then snapped shut. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t yet define what that something was.

  Beatrice stared at him, hard. “What would you think if she said those same words to you?”

  A jolt zinged through Reid’s awareness and nailed him to his chair. Beatrice hit her point straight on and Reid wondered how he could have been so consummately stupid.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned.

  She nodded. “Oh, God, indeed.”

  Reid looked at James and wondered if his own expression had gone as pale and pained as his friend’s had.

  “I should have said nothing mattered but how much I loved her,” he said, stunned. “I should have begged her to marry me for that reason and that reason alone. Nothing else held any weight.”

  Beatrice laid a hand over his. “Yes.”

  The room started to waver as if he was looking through glass during a driving rainstorm. Reid dropped his head to his folded arms resting on the tabletop. He closed his eyes and concentrated on taking slow, even breaths.

  Skitt.

  Skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt skitt.

  Gud forbanner all denne til helvete.

  “I cannot believe I didn’t realize,” he croaked. “How could I have misspoken so badly?”

  Beatrice patted his elbow. “You are a man, Reid. And you spent nine years in the company of other men. The finer points of language were not part of your military career, I’ll wager.”

  Reid lifted his head and looked at the couple sitting at his table as if seeing them for the first time. “It’s my fault,” he said, still shaky with shock.

  “What will you do?” James asked, his concern clear.

  Reid stared at him. “What can I do? Do you know how far it is to Philadelphia? Nine hundred miles!”

  James said nothing. Beatrice sat up straight. Their food arrived and the plates were set in front of them. No one lifted a fork.

  “I can’t go back,” Reid stated. “Six weeks to get there, six weeks to return…”

  James and Beatrice exchanged worried looks.

  “I wouldn’t be back until the end of September or early October,” he continued his own objections.

  “Your cabin is built,” James said. “You would still have time to chop your firewood and dig your well before the weather turns too cold.”

  Reid stared at James. His pulse began to surge. “No, it’s not possible.”

  James shrugged. “I am not going to encourage you either way. This is a decision you must make for yourself.”

  “And live with the consequences yourself,” Beatrice murmured. Her gaze fell to her plate.

  “What if she still said no?” Reid argued. “I will have lost all that time.”

  “You are right, Reid,” James stated and picked up his fork. “You are a land owner now. You have a house to build and a lease to be concerned with. You don’t have three months to waste running across the country.”

  “The leased land is your concern, not mine,” Reid countered, confounded by that statement.

  “Oh, yes. That’s correct.” James met his gaze again. �
��You only have to manage the steady income.”

  Reid’s heart pounded so hard that the blood rushing in his ears made it hard for him to hear. He stared at the plate of food in front of him and wondered what he was supposed to do with it.

  “Did you find your hinges?” James asked.

  Reid looked up. “What?”

  “The hinges. For your doors. Did you find them?” James repeated.

  “Yes,” Reid grunted.

  “And the cement?” he asked.

  Reid nodded. At least he believed he did.

  James shifted in his seat and gestured with his fork. “Try the venison. It’s excellent.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  June 28, 1782

  Kirsten spent an entire week of days with Emil Helland. She didn’t intend to do so, but that was how persistent the man proved to be. What surprised her was how little she minded the attention.

  She held no illusions that he was falling in love with her, nor she with him. What grew between them were an easy friendship, a peaceful camaraderie, and an increasing sense of honesty. In spite of that, Kirsten had no intention of ever telling Emil about what happened to her in Denmark. She saw no reason to.

  One thing was quite clear, however. The time for her to make a decision which would shape the rest of her life was here. She was twenty-seven years old; soon she would be considered unmarriageable. While she told herself that remaining unattached for life would never bother her, she discovered of late that the idea had started to niggle at her in an unpleasant way.

  Loneliness crept into her room at night and wrapped its dark hands around her heart. If there had not been a handsome Norse soldier who loved her, she might never have known what she was missing. But there was. And she did. For that reason alone she might consider Emil’s suit.

  Then there were her parents. Kirsten had never seen them so happy.

  Her father seemed to relax, as if worry for his only child had been perched on his shoulders like an ugly bird of prey, ready to devour all hope that Kirsten would have companionship when he was gone. Until now, she never realized how worried he was for her.