by Barbara Mack
Kathleen placed several lumps of dough in bowls, covered them, and put them next to the stove to rise. Maggie listened, fascinated. She had been reading voraciously from Nick’s library since she was here, trying to make up for the years that she had been denied any form of literature, but she had not seen anything like that here. The closest thing she had seen to either of the publications was Tom Paine’s Rights of Man, and she mentioned this to Kathleen, who snorted derisively.
“Well, Nick is a man, after all. Do you think that he is going to have a book lying around that suggests he is not the be-all and end-all of the universe, and that women need to seek more freedom in order to prosper?”
Maggie laughed and protested. “He is not that bad, Kathleen, you are exaggerating.”
“Yes, I am, aren’t I?” she agreed with a wicked grin. “Well, to be fair, these books are hard to find. Joanne had the devil’s own time finding me a copy of either of these, because a lot of booksellers refuse to carry it, so when one does carry it, the book sells out right away. And it is not as popular with men as Tom Paine, who incidentally was a friend of Mary Wollstonecraft’s. I will bring you my copies of them, if you want.” She turned to face Maggie, her face for once as sober as Duncan.
“I think that you are brave to be able to love again after all that has happened to you, Maggie. I admire you for not giving up, and for trying to do what feels right for you. You do not have to be married to love someone, and I for one do not believe greatly in marriage.” She made a wry face. “You only have to see some of my sister’s marriages to see what I mean. Delia is married to a local planter and has been with child for five out of the last six years; she is nearly worn out from birthing babes, and she is only twenty-four. Her husband John practically roams the countryside looking for trouble to get into and fast women to run around with. I saw two little boys in Geddes the last time I went there that look so much like him, I nearly fell over in shock. Delia is always smiling and gay and she pretends to be happy, but I have seen her face when she thinks that nobody else is looking. She is unutterably miserable. And Grace’s husband beat her until Daniel paid him a visit, one that resulted in her husband’s broken arm, and now he does not lay a hand on her–that we know of.” She sighed and flung down a dishtowel. “Jenny’s happy, and Harvey is wonderful to her—but one out of three? What kind of odds are those? My parents are happy, too, but they have a rare communication that transcends the ordinary . . . having met her, how ordinary do you think my mother? My sisters’ unhappy marriages are part of the reason that my mother keeps trying to find me a husband. She believes that she is responsible for their unhappiness, since she never tried to dissuade either of them from their choices in husbands. She is trying to make up for that by finding me a ‘good’ husband.”
Kathleen stared off in the distance, her eyes sightless for a moment, and then she visibly shook herself. “I have vowed not to marry until I find a partnership just as extraordinary as my parent’s . . . and it looks as if I will be waiting forever, no matter how much my mother pushes me towards every available bachelor that she can find.”
Maggie laughed at the dry tone of Katherine’s voice as she spoke that last part. “Your mother is a character all right; I cannot help but agree with you there.” She was silent for a moment while she finished up her share of the loaves and put them with Kathleen’s. “I would like to read those books, if I may,” she told Kathleen. “I think that Miss Wollstonecraft and Miss Fuller and I may have more than a few views in common.”
“I will bring them with me, then, when I come tomorrow.” Kathleen bit her lip and her voice was hesitant as she spoke next. “Maggie? I am afraid you are going to think this very presumptuous of me, but I went to see Granny Thompson the other day.” Maggie looked inquiringly at her. “She is a local herbalist, quite a gifted healer, really, and she does a rousing business with the local women. Anyway,” she said, and she drew the word out and then rushed the rest of the sentence, the color in her face going wildly red. “She gave me something that helps prevent pregnancy, and I brought it to give to you.” Her blue eyes looked anxiously at her friend. “I hope that you are not angry. I did this out of concern; I was not trying to be a busybody.”
After Maggie finished blushing and stammering, she assured Kathleen that she was not angry, and confessed that the thought of pregnancy had been tormenting her. She turned a much brighter red when she told Kathleen that Nick had not been spilling his seed inside her, but that she knew that was not always enough to keep a pregnancy from ‘catching’. Kathleen pulled a small package out of a pocket in her skirt and showed it to Maggie. The package contained a collection of small sponges, and Kathleen told her that the herbalist had instructed her to soak them in vinegar and insert them inside her before making love. They helped to keep the man’s seed from penetrating into the recesses of your body, she explained, and Maggie nodded. She tucked the packet away, and resolved to use them.
Maggie read the books that Kathleen soon brought her, and she agreed with a great deal that Mary Wollstonecraft and Elizabeth Fuller had said in them; her marriage was a case in point. Had not she in fact sold herself into bondage when she had married David? It did not matter that she had not realized that is what her marriage would be like; she had known that she did not love David, but she was just so glad that she had someone to take care of her and a home to call her own that she had sacrificed her own personal standards for safety.
She had been thinking about her relationship with David a lot lately, and with all the time and distance between those nightmare days and the present, she was able to analyze the marriage with amazing objectivity. She understood now that she had been made to pay for all his troubles–had not she seen him grovel, nearly get down on his knees and beg some of his wealthier clients for their business? Then, the moment they were gone from the house, he had reverted back to the master, and the more he had been made to grovel by his wealthy clients, the more despotic he had become with Maggie. He took out all of his humiliations on her; she had been made to pay the price for all of his perceived debasements. He had to control her, she had come to realize, because that was the only way that he could feel like a man. The more that she was brought to her knees, the higher he stood, and he needed to be above someone; he craved it like a drug. In his eyes, men were stronger than women, both physically and mentally, so he could do whatever he wanted to the ‘weaker sex’, without fear of reprisal, and furthermore, he felt that he owned Maggie so she was his to do with as he pleased.
It bothered her a great deal that she still had not told Nick the truth about the way her marriage had ended. She had started to tell him a hundred times, then the words had frozen on her lips, and she could not force them out no matter how hard she tried. He had taken her at her word about Duncan, had never brought up the subject again, though she had seen his lips tighten when Duncan, who had given up his cane for good, had come by to see her. He resented that odd connection that Maggie had with Duncan. She could feel it in the tightening of his body whenever he laid eyes upon her friend. Still, he had said or done nothing to offend either of them, neither had he appeared to be jealous, and Maggie knew that it must be very hard for him to trust after the lessons he had learned from Mary.
He had praised her honesty over and over, every word he spoke stabbing her like a knife in the heart, until she felt that she must surely die from the pain of it. She had to tell him, and soon. The likelihood of anyone finding her here--and knowing who she was–was slim, but it existed. And Maggie did not want to lie to Nick, even by omission. She loved him, and she wanted to share everything with him. Perhaps he could help her find a way out of this whole mess. The thought lifted her heart; to be able to live without a shadow over her head seemed like a sweet dream.
Maggie might be sure that she loved Nick, but she still was not sure of the depth of his
feelings. He had never said the words, and though he showed the force of his desire a dozen times a day, he had never off
ered anything to Maggie beyond the present. Never once had he intimated that they were meant to be together for all time, and so she had held back her feelings, too, though I love you had screamed inside her mind a hundred, a thousand times since they had come together. And it was becoming harder and harder to keep the words inside. She dreaded the day in which they might slip out by accident and ruin everything that they had between him.
Some days she was positive that his feelings for her ran as deep as hers for him; on other days she was convinced that he felt only lust for her, and that his feelings would soon fade. On those days, it seemed like a good thing that Maggie had held back something of herself, and she was glad she had not confessed her sins, and her love. Those things could be used as weapons against her when Nick’s lust for her soured or began to fade away.
On the days when he seemed particularly tender, when his eyes caressed her and seemed to speak silently those very words that she was so desperate to hear, she longed to lay her soul bare, to present herself figuratively naked before him as a gift . . . but she never did. There was too much fear left in her, too many scars on her psyche to be really sure of his reaction, so she did nothing.
She woke each morning afraid that this would be the day that he would tire of her, and vowed to make the last day with Nick count. So she threw herself into loving Nick, surprising him with gifts, with her body, with the extent of her passion . . . but always something was held back, and it chafed at her. And if Nick thought her manner was a bit too frantic, if there seemed to be an air of desperation fueling her passion, it went unremarked.
And for his part, Nick was afraid. He was afraid that Maggie would stop loving him; he was afraid that her passion for him was merely a by-product of being thrown together for months. He was afraid that she would decide that she preferred Duncan after all. The big man was a frequent visitor to the farm, and Nick was careful to be friendly to him, but fear ran under the surface of his skin like magma under the crusted top of a volcano. He shied away from the vocalization of his feelings for Maggie. He did not even say it to himself, for fear that even thinking it would somehow ruin their affair. The depth of his passion for her seemed bottomless; he drifted on, just happy at the end of the day that he would wake up beside Maggie at least one more time.
They continued Maggie’s riding lessons; she was a good student. She liked the horses and quickly lost her fear of them. The horses soon realized this in the instinctive way that animals had, and her riding improved so that she was soon competent enough to ride any horse on the place. Nick still insisted that she wear the trousers while she rode, and his hands slid all over her whenever he got close. He whispered in her ear about all the ideas those tight breeches gave him, and their riding lessons usually culminated in a long, satisfying session in bed.
October gave way to November, bright leaves turning dull and falling off the trees to lie heaped in great piles under the forlorn, skeletal remains. The wind whistled and blew hard from the north, blowing in the cold, blustery weather. Indian summer was gone, with its warm, brilliant days full of false hope of putting off the inevitable cold, and then winter was full upon them. The sudden drop in temperature was stunning. Frost was on the windowpanes every morning; you could see your breath when you dared the wind to venture outdoors. Maggie shivered in the mornings when she put her toes out from underneath her warm coverings, and Nick often talked her into staying there for a while.
They could have gone on like that forever, falling into a comfortable routine that in truth
did nothing but disguise their fears from each other, if Nick’s cousins had not suddenly arrived in an unscheduled visit.
Early one morning a carriage rumbled down the drive, and Kathleen peered intently out a side window, then let out a scream of pure delight. Maggie peeped over her shoulder and saw a stylish young woman dressed in a lush blue velvet dress with a matching cloak stepping out of the vehicle. She was followed closely by a slender young man with his arm in a sling who was most certainly a relative, so close were they in looks. They both were dark-haired and dark-eyed, with long, coltish limbs and defined features. The woman turned to say something to him, smiling indulgently, the feather that topped her fashionable hat drooping down and caressing the corner of her wide mouth.
“It is Joanne and Ronald, Nick’s cousins! Oh, I have been longing to see them for ages!”
Kathleen very nearly jumped up and down with delight. She tore off her apron and flew out of the house to throw herself into the grasp of the laughing young man. He clutched her tightly in his one-armed embrace, Kathleen pressing her face into his chest. The woman said something to their driver, and only then did Maggie notice that it was Duncan who sat on top of the driver’s box, his horse tied onto the back of the vehicle.
Maggie saw a look on his face that made her study him speculatively as he watched Kathleen press a vehement kiss to the cheek of the other man. Kathleen next grabbed the taller woman in a hug that must have threatened to crack her ribs, and they held each other in an embrace that held nothing of artifice.
She followed Kathleen outside to greet them more slowly and certainly more circumspectly, arriving in time to hear a whoop of joy coming from the direction of the stables. Nick, too, had seen their visitors and he came now at a fast lope, a wide grin creasing his face.
He swung his female cousin up and around, and she gurgled a laugh in a husky, pleasant voice, the feather that topped her hat bobbing wildly. Her hands with their well-kept nails caressed his face lovingly, making Maggie think of her own work-worn skin. She hid her hands in her skirt, shame-faced, as she came slowly down the steps.
“What are you two doing here?” he cried. His smile dimmed somewhat when he saw Duncan climbing down from the driver’s box, clutching, of all things, what appeared to be one of Sadie’s half-grown puppies. “Duncan Murdoch,” he said flatly. “You sure do turn up here a lot lately.”
“Your cousins’ driver took sick, and when they brought him to the surgery, I offered to bring them out here. Ronald here has a broken arm, and Miss Joanne was not sure if she could handle these horses on her own.” Duncan looked at Nick calmly from under his battered hat, pushing it back a little on his broad forehead. “I had to come out this way and visit Mrs. Booker anyway. She is expecting an addition to their household soon, and I wanted to see how she was doing.” He handed the squirming young dog over to Nick. "And on the way, I just happened to run across this little rascal, and I recognized him. One of your pups, is he not? He is quite the wanderer. He was several miles from here when I found him."
"He must have followed the other dogs off when they went hunting again," Nick said with a frown and a shake of his head. "He’ll be a fine dog one of these days, if I can keep him at home long enough to train him. He keeps getting lost."
“It was the strangest thing," Joanne said, smiling up into Duncan’s face. "Doctor Murdoch was barreling along that path you call a road, when he suddenly stopped the carriage, jumped down, and ran off into the forest. He was gone for so long that I was just going to send Ronald off after him, when he showed up carrying that little dog. He said that he could hear him crying from his perch up on top of the carriage. He must have wonderful hearing. Tell Doctor Murdoch thank you, Nick," Joanne demanded. "Both for rescuing your mangy livestock and for bringing us out here. Just because you live out in the back of beyond is no reason to forget your manners."
"Thank you," Nick told the other man stiffly. "Appreciate it."
"And we thank you so much, too,” Joanne said sincerely. “I might have been all right driving all the way out here from Geddes, but it would have been a struggle, and my sense of direction is not always the best as I am sure you remember. We might have ended up back in St. Louis.”
“It was no problem, ma’am.” Duncan said, and nodded to Kathleen, who had one arm around Ronald’s waist. “That sure was a good pie you sent out to me yesterday, Miss Donaldson,” he drawled. His eyes twinkled at her and his mouth twitched j
ust a little as he untied his horse from the back of the carriage. “Your mother told me that you had baked it especially for me. I sure do appreciate it.”
Kathleen went crimson with embarrassment. She had not known anything about any pie, and from the wicked glint in his eye, Duncan Murdoch well knew it. She cursed her mother for the thousandth time for her total lack of shame when it came to her matchmaking efforts on her behalf. He finished untying his horse from the back of the buggy, and swung his big leg over the side of the patient gelding. Kathleen thought that she would shrivel up and die of mortification when he winked at her.
“I really do appreciate that invite to dinner tonight, too,” he said, his sober, pious attitude belying the wink he had just given her. Kathleen did a slow burn, her murderous expression promising to pay him back for the teasing. “I did not think that I would be able to make it, but you will be happy to know that barring any emergencies, I have cleared my schedule. Please inform your mother of this if you will, and I will see you later tonight.”
