A Practical Arrangement

by Nadja Notariani

  “Let's get the Christmas ribbons out tonight,” Evangeline suggested. “We'll weave them through the basket plates; they look so pretty decorated.”

  Melody pulled out the red and gold ribbons from the drawer in the sideboard, and they set to work. Hot cider warmed their stomachs along with biscuits and jam, Evangeline's favorite treat. Opal called them into the great room, where the tree sparkled near the windows and the piano sang beneath her agile fingers. They joined together in familiar hymns as the fire burned brightly well into the evening, and Evangeline counted it a fine day. At last, quiet descended, and they all sought seats for the final reflective moments before bed.

  “What a relief to have everything ready,” Opal sighed, gazing affectionately at her husband. “Mr. Masterson and Mr. Lane will arrive tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Yes,” Albert replied. “And I believe they shall have pleasant weather for travel.”

  Melody beamed, casting a gleeful eye Evangeline's direction. But even the prospect of the visit couldn't dampen her bright spirits after such a lovely evening.

  “If the weather is as agreeable as I believe it will be, you can show the new storage buildings tomorrow.”

  Evangeline considered the task assigned. She'd suffer the company of Mr. Masterson, but she'd do so out of doors. Perhaps it would not be so unpleasant a visit after all. It was only four days, after all. What could happen in so short a time?

  Content with her positive assessment, Evangeline retired to her bedroom, sleeping soundly for the first night since Melody shared her secret letter. Everything would be fine.

  * * *

  Morning produced a flurry of action when Mr. Masterson and Mr. Lane arrived much earlier than expected. With warm welcomes shared, gifts were produced from Mr. and Mrs. Platte, including new stationery, a fruitcake, and satchels of tea with cinnamon sticks. Instead of further merriment, Mr. Masterson spoke quietly with Albert, and the two men retreated to Albert's study, rather grim faced, Evangeline noted. Ever observant, she pondered the serious exchange and subdued manners of Mr. Masterson. As one hour became two, her curiosity was engaged to a degree of downright distraction.

  Bread and butter!

  Evangeline wanted to know what was going on behind her father's closed study door.

  Listening to Melody and Mr. Lane was pleasant enough while she worked carefully to put the final touches on the last shawl. Three days remained! No doubt, she'd be ready. The only way this Christmas project could gain her more joy was if she could be there to see the children's faces as they wrapped in their new coats and shawls. Denying themselves that joy, the ladies opted to allow Reverend Oakley the pleasure, worrying they'd give offense to any of the families receiving the gifts. Many poor farmers were loath to accept charity. Christmas was not the time to cause someone embarrassment, especially in front of their family.

  She held up the finished garment. “It is ready.”

  “Evangeline, how lovely!” Melody admired sweetly.

  “Thank you,” she said proudly. “But I'll have Mother check it over to be safe.” She thought a minute. “Three days until Christmas Eve. The time will drag without something to occupy us. You've finished too, Melody?”

  “Yesterday afternoon,” Melody answered. “Now, we've nothing to do but wait.” All smiles, she added, “I really cannot wait to give Mother and Father their gifts. And you, too, Evangeline!”

  So caught up in her excitement, Evangeline had only thought of giving. It touched her heart to know her sister had gotten her a present.

  “Do not worry, Mrs. Brentwood,” Jonathan offered, “I shall be more than glad to keep you company while you wait.”

  The fair-haired man had eyes only for Melody, and suddenly, Evangeline felt as if she were intruding on a private moment.

  “I cannot think of a more pleasant way to spend the time, Mr. Lane,” Melody answered cheerily.

  From the way Mr. Lane hung on Melody's reply, one would think she'd uttered some confession of love. It was only a kindly statement. What could she have missed?

  “Ah, Miss Grey,” Thomas Masterson's deep voice scraped over her from behind, causing her scalp to prickle with an unidentifiable sensation, “if you tolerate my company half so well, I believe we shall have a pleasant day all around.”

  In spite of herself, Evangeline found herself returning Thomas' wry smile.

  “I shall strive for tolerance, Mr. Masterson,” she promised lightheartedly, Christmas cheer overriding her serious nature.

  The first order of business being the new storage building, the group set off after the ladies bundled themselves. Crisp and cold, winter's icy sting did not go unnoticed, but the sky shone brightly and the air was still. Unable to maintain a leisurely pace, Evangeline strode briskly along familiar paths, Thomas matching her pace. He spoke amiably of fields and winter birds, of farming and winter's beauty, and Evangeline counted it wholly pleasant to be in his company.

  “Mrs. Brentwood and Mr. Lane are falling behind,” Thomas pointed out with an odd smile. “Had a change of heart about being alone in my company, have you?”

  There was the Mr. Masterson she knew. She'd almost forgotten him. Evangeline slowed, brow creasing. He was right. She hadn't been thinking about that at all. “We're hardly alone, Mr. Masterson,” she corrected brusquely.

  “Because of my observation,” he reminded.

  She gaped at him, then closed her eyes and counted to ten. Why he wished to antagonize her, she couldn't fathom! “Do you want me to dislike you, Mr. Masterson?”

  “So you do find me likable,” Thomas observed dryly. “No, I've no want for your dislike, Miss Grey. I can hardly bear up under your liking.”

  What?

  “You find me so abrasive, then?” Evangeline bristled beneath the lighthearted question. He can hardly bear up! “Perhaps it best if my father shows you the new building.”

  Thomas laughed very softly. “I find you a conundrum, Miss Grey. And I'd rather you show me, if it's all the same to you.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks. What was going on? Mr. Masterson again thoughtful, contemplative? “You're different today,” she breathed in a hush. Had she said that aloud? Oh, dear!

  “I've a very serious matter on my mind,” he answered honestly.

  Evangeline resumed walking, her pace slower. “Is that what you and my father discussed in his study?”

  “Yes,” he sighed, falling into contemplation.

  Gone was the smiling antagonist, for how long she'd not venture a guess.

  “Did my father tell you what should be done?” she probed carefully.

  A hint of melancholy seeped into Thomas' gaze, his murky orbs changing from grayish-green to dark, dark, gray before her eyes.

  Whatever is he thinking?

  Thomas considered what answer he would make. No. Albert Grey had not told him what should be done. Not exactly. What he had done was reiterate what Thomas already knew in his heart. But he’d added something else, whether by intention or accident, Thomas couldn't speculate.

  “Thomas, I know how you're feeling. I've informed my own daughter, Evangeline, that I'll choose a husband for her if she hasn't done so by spring.” The older man sighed heavily. “She is upset by it, also. But I act in her best interest, just as your father did for you.” Albert offered Thomas a drink and settled at his desk again. “Find yourself a steady, sensible woman, Thomas. One that will be a fine companion.” Albert laughed then. “You won't always be young and dashing. Neither will a beautiful woman remain so over time. Better a woman you enjoy spending your time with.”

  It was more what Albert hadn't suggested that now stirred Thomas to a decision. Miss Evangeline Grey would be in need of a husband. And soon. She was exactly the type of woman Albert had described. Like him, she resisted marrying. Why? Would Albert give his daughter to a man on a mission? More importantly, could he persuade Miss Grey to accept a man such as himself?

  Thomas' gaze burned into her, his smoky eyes smoldering with a
maelstrom of tightly tethered emotion, and Evangeline gained a measure of respect at his controlled response.

  “In a roundabout way, I believe he did,” Thomas admitted, reassessing his mentor's words as he stared directly into Evangeline's soft brown eyes.

  Oh! Evangeline sensed there was much more than what she understood going on, but politeness demanded she stop herself from further inquiry. “Well, my father is a man wisely heeded. I'm beyond certain he gave you excellent advice.”

  Thomas listened as she unknowingly fortified his resolve to gain her as his wife. Didn't she intrigue him with her quick wit and sharp intelligence? Evangeline Grey was perfect for him. She'd not expect, nor offer, silly declarations of love, nor would she be a foolish woman, gossiping around and spending to excess. A practical woman.

  “Is that so, Miss Grey?”

  “Oh, yes,” Evangeline blushed at recommending her father so forcefully.

  “I shall remind you of your words one day soon,” he smiled.

  Again, that secret, knowing smile left her wondering.

  “You mustn't hold it against me when I do. Agreed, Miss Grey?”

  He took her arm and placed it firmly on his own; an oddly possessive gesture. All hesitance and thoughtfulness fled him after speaking those words, leaving Evangeline wary in their stead.

  “Agreed,” she whispered softly, unsure at why she did so.

  “A bargain, then, it is.”

  “I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Masterson.” Evangeline regretted acquiescing to his silly bargain.

  Of all the nonsense!

  And herself, playing along like some ninny headed fool. She'd known better than be too friendly with Thomas Masterson. Defenses doubled. Evangeline showed him about the new storage building with efficient explanations.

  “You know quite a lot about grain storage for a young woman,” Thomas complimented.

  “My sister could near run Grey Manor with her knowledge, Mr. Masterson,” Melody elaborated. “She's always excelled at learning.”

  Evangeline scowled. “That covers it. We'd best head back to the house.”

  Thomas took her arm and gestured toward the path. “Have you taken a chill?” Concern knit his expression.

  Sidelong, she studied him. Oh! He was a conundrum himself. It must be whatever grave matter he'd discussed with her father causing him to act so contrary.

  “Nothing a warm fire won't dispel,” she assured.

  The return walk progressed quickly, all eager to seek the warmth of indoors. Thomas remained subdued, his hand never leaving its spot atop her arm, which rested on his.

  Evangeline picked up her pace.

  * * *

  Jonathan blew out his breath in a whistle. “Evangeline Grey?” Disbelief sounded in the utterance. “You wish to wed Evangeline Grey?”

  “That is, I believe, what I just said,” Thomas chuckled.

  “But,” his friend protested, a sour expression on his face, “you could have any woman you wanted, Thomas.”

  “Exactly,” Thomas concurred. “The one I'll have is Miss Grey.”

  “I had no idea you held an interest in her. When did this happen?”

  Thomas relayed the circumstance of his need to wed and his subsequent conversation with Albert Grey. Explaining her father's decree that she must marry as well, Thomas detailed the practical solution he envisioned to fulfill his debt and finally assume his responsibilities as Masterson heir. He also included his growing preoccupation with Evangeline Grey. “The question remains, unfortunately, whether I can convince her to accept me. I dare say she may refuse me and take her chances with her father's choice.”

  “You're mad to believe that, Thomas,” Jonathan quipped. “Women clamber over one another simply to gain a few moments of your attention. Your income alone entices them, never mind your rumored abilities in the bed-chamber; I say, you could be ugly as an ogre, and still they would gladly wed you.”

  “Yet Miss Grey avoids me at every opportunity. My money – and my reputation – seem to dissuade rather than entice her. It is, perhaps, the reason I find myself drawn to her. Frankly, I believe she will refuse my offer.” He considered his own statement, an idea dawning. “But I may not give her the chance.”

  “What are you considering? Will you work out a deal with her father?” Jonathan asked.

  “That would still give her opportunity to resist. No,” he stated, mind conjecturing methodically, “I'll orchestrate a situation which will leave her no choice but to accept me.”

  “How do you plan to accomplish that?” Jonathan frowned. “Will you compromise her?”

  “She'll never allow herself to be compromised, Jonathan,” Thomas chuckled. “But I shall manage to instigate a scenario that will leave that certainty in doubt.”

  Jonathan slapped his friend's back. “You sly devil!” he smiled. “I only hope you don't regret this decision. Miss Grey is a capable woman, intelligent of mind, but she does not strike me as one suited to making a man happy, if you catch my meaning.”

  “Is that so?” Thomas said cryptically, a peculiar smile on his lips. Changing the subject, he turned conversation to Mrs. Brentwood, a topic Jonathan readily engaged.

  “I am in love with her,” Jonathan declared passionately.

  “Be careful,” Thomas warned. “I have it on good advice that the woman is of a sensitive nature. Albert Grey is a close friend of mine, and of my uncle and aunt. Make sure of your intentions before risking my family's relationship.”

  Jonathan smiled, his blue eyes honest and open with admiration of the lady which they discussed. “Her heart is open and sweet. She'd make me a fine wife.”

  Thomas shook his head, a wide grin plastered across his face. “You are lost to her, Jonathan. Just remember to retain some backbone. I'd hate to see you tethered to a woman of Mrs. Grey's disposition.”

  “God forbid such a trial as that woman!” Jonathan laughed. “May He spare us both a sentence of that severity.”

  The two men planned their afternoon, the subject of women exhausted for the time being.

  Chapter Five

  “Dearheart, you look lovely,” Opal cooed as Melody approached the table. “Isn't she a sight, Mr. Lane?”

  “Without question, Mrs. Grey,” Jonathan readily agreed.

  “Pink is your color. Haven't I told you so? And Mr. Lane makes it official!”

  Mrs. Grey sought further compliments for Melody as Thomas watched on. Irritation grew by the minute. Albert ate silently at the table's head to Thomas' right, ignoring his wife's chatter. After another volley of Mrs. Brentwood’s admirable qualities had been detailed thoroughly, he could hold back no longer.

  “Your daughter, Miss Grey, is quite knowledgeable about your barley farming and storage techniques, Mrs. Grey. Her explanations were detailed, and I've gained a few ideas I'll implement at Cherry Hill.”

  “Wonderful,” Albert answered, a pleased expression on his long, lean face. “She's a capable farmer, I dare say!” His eyes twinkled with mischief-making at the comment.

  “A farmer,” Opal scowled, pursing her lips. “Milling about with you and Mr. Bankirk! She learned to be too frank in her speech, too frank! You coddled her, allowing her to tag along with you learning of barley, Mr. Grey!”

  “And you see,” Albert laughed, “she's done a service for Mr. Masterson because of it!”

  “Mr. Masterson was only being polite, Mr. Grey. Your daughter would do better to learn from her sister,” Opal sniffed.

  Evangeline sat, unmoving, straight and stiff, eyes directly in front of her. In that moment, Thomas comprehended it was her only defense against the humiliating reprimand – and he had caused it. Anger flared deep inside him. An incident from his last visit came to mind, Opal Grey fussing over Melody after their walk. He hadn't been able to place what bothered him then. It was now plain. Evangeline Grey may be the elder daughter, but her mother treated her like a second son. Thomas identified with her on a new level. She lived hi
s former existence.

  “That is hardly correct, Mrs. Grey,” Thomas leapt to her defense. “I do consider myself polite, but I draw the line at insincerity. I quite meant the compliment I made Miss Grey.”

  “Why, Mr. Masterson,” Opal replied. “Of course you would never be insincere. But you are too kind.”

  The woman would not allow the compliment to stand unscathed.

  “Melody, you must play for our guests after the meal is ended,” Opal resumed her fawning with renewed vigor.

  Jonathan, so enamored with Mrs. Brentwood, scarce noticed, Thomas observed with a shake of his head.

  “Do you play, as well?” Thomas once again focused his attention on the now scarlet faced Miss Grey. He thought she meant to ignore the question, so still she remained for long seconds.

  “My sister is quite accomplished,” Evangeline evaded deftly. “You'll find she has a lovely voice as well.”

  “If we've all finished?” Opal questioned, rising from the table. “Shall we?”

  Evangeline excused herself quietly, not unnoticed by Thomas. He lingered for a few songs before slipping away in search of her, a strange compulsion demanding he seek her in the wake of his new understanding.

  Cresting the gently rolling knoll, Thomas caught sight of her. She did not look up as he neared, but steadily peered into the underbrush nearby. Without breaking the silence, he stopped, tracking her gaze's path in search of the thing holding her rapt. Thomas frowned, his patience waning. Just as he made to speak, the chatter of a squirrel broke the silence, the agile creature scampering across the dense brush, bushy tail flicking this way and that. A second emerged, peeking through the tangle of thin branches, chattering in what appeared to be a thorough set down. Each stilled in watchful survey before wildly chasing about the dead mass of brush in playful abandon.