Master's Match

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  “Really?” Mr. Hanham picked up his mug.

  “Yes. One fact that impressed me most about her was how important her family is to her. So you can see especially why I pray you can support and bless our union.”

  Mr. Hanham downed the rest of his ale, set the mug on the table with a thump, and looked Nash in the eye. “I know she’s pretty, but so are those high-society ladies. What do ya want with a girl outta my brood? I may be poor, but I ain’t stupid. I know what some of you wealthy types think you can get away with.”

  Nash held back a retort at such an insult, forcing himself to remember this man didn’t know him as a person, but from rumors he’d heard from others about a world strange to him. If Nash were honest with himself, he’d have to admit some of the rumors about his cohorts were true. “I understand your concern, Mr. Hanham. I admire you for wanting to protect Becca. Yet if my intentions were less than honorable, I wouldn’t take the time and effort to approach you to ask you for her hand in marriage. In fact, I’d be more likely not to mention marriage at all.”

  “True,” he conceded. “She told me ya asked. You’re a rich man, and my daughter don’t got no dowry to offer. How do I know ya don’t plan to break off the engagement as soon as that woman nobody likes goes back to wherever she came from?” He crossed his arms and scowled at Nash.

  So Becca had filled her family in on all the details about Hazel. He hadn’t forbidden her to share, but the truth embarrassed him. Perhaps he should have asked her not to mention Hazel. He tried not to wince. “I realize why you might be suspicious, but let me assure you again that I am entering this engagement period with full intention of marrying her. If she’ll have me, of course.”

  He laughed. “If she’ll have ya? I’d think she’d be on her knees thankin’ heavenly Providence fer lettin’ her get the attention of a man as rich as you.”

  Nash was taken aback by the man’s brash statement. The crude reference to his fortune reminded him of Hazel at her worst. He resisted the urge to retort, considering the family’s sad surroundings. He kept his tone even. “I do hope I have more to offer her than riches. I have gotten to know her a bit, and we seem congenial. I have no reason to think that will change.”

  “Ye can’t live on talkin’.”

  “True. I will provide for her and do my best to increase your comfort as well. Perhaps I might see my way clear to find a modest house for you. A house near mine so Becca can see her family every day.”

  His eyes widened. “Ye’d do that? Fer us?”

  “Yes, I would.”

  “I’m not so sure I’d want to live in a fancy neighborhood. We’re simple folk. We won’t fit in.”

  “With the right education and changes in appearance, you could. I can help your children move up in the world.”

  For the first time the older man sobered, and his expression softened. “I didn’t expect quite that much. Truth be told, I was just hopin’ fer a hundred dollars. Guess that makes you a fool.”

  “I’m no fool.”

  “Fool or no, I’d say this calls for a drink.” He summoned for his wife to bring Nash a portion of ale and to pour himself another.

  She rushed in and hurried to obey. As Nash watched in awe of her speed, she placed an empty cup on the table.

  “None for me, thank you,” Nash said.

  Mrs. Hanham stopped in midmotion, her expression taking on a resigned look. “Warn’t there good news?”

  “Yea, there was,” her husband answered. “I told him we’d let him have our Becca.”

  The older woman’s face lit, her cheeks growing to the size of small apples as she smiled. “Then I’d say this does call for a round of ale, Mr. Abercrombie. Don’t ya want ta celebrate?”

  “I don’t need to drink spirits. My light heart and the prospect of marriage to your daughter are celebration enough for me.” Making such a declaration aloud made Nash realize how strong his feelings for her had become.

  ❧

  Though winter chill bit, Becca waited out front in pale sunshine while the two most important men in her life decided her future. Sissy and Naomi stood nearby, talking to each other since Becca hadn’t entered their conversation. Their presence heartened her. Younger than Becca yet closest to her in age, they sensed when she needed them nearby even if few words were exchanged.

  Familiar sights and sounds of her neighborhood floated overhead. One benefit colder weather provided was a lessening of the stench of horse manure and rotting garbage, though such odors proved inescapable in the best of weather. Most adults—and some children—worked in the factories or elsewhere during the day, so the streets weren’t filled with whoops and hollers of happy games. The ragman pulled his cart, shouting about his wares, but Becca shook her head when he made eye contact with her.

  What was taking them so long? “Father in heaven, Thy will be done.”

  As time passed, the chill made itself known through her coat. Shivering, she reached for the door just as it opened and Nash strode through it. His relaxed facial expression indicated he hadn’t been too shaken by the encounter with her father. Becca caught a glimpse of her two sisters out of the corner of her eye. Naomi and Sissy pretended to watch a passing merchant hocking pots and pans, but Becca knew their ears were tuned to whatever news Nash had to share.

  Nash glanced at the sisters and seemed to understand. “Are you ready to go home with me?”

  “Home with me.” The words sent a satisfied shiver down her spine. The idea that her home would forever be with him still seemed unreal—like a fantasy she had entered and would soon be asked to exit. But she didn’t want to leave the fantasy. Not ever. Glancing at her front door, she wanted to point out he could stay for lunch, but with the Hanhams’ finances in a pinch, she didn’t want to put him in the position of pretending he liked the porridge Mother served.

  “Yea, I’m ready.” She turned to her sisters and bid them farewell for the day. They giggled and curtsied to Nash, a gesture Becca found both embarrassing and amusing. Ever poised, Nash tipped his hat to them and bid them an elegant farewell before helping Becca into the conveyance.

  As soon as Jack shut the door behind them, Becca felt relieved to be in semiprivacy with Nash. Or at least away from her sisters’ curiosity. Yet a little feeling of insecurity visited her, making her almost afraid to ask. “So ya asked Father fer his blessin’?”

  “Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?” His smile suggested teasing.

  A relieved breath escaped her in spite of her best efforts to remain calm. “And give ya his blessin’ he did, no doubt.”

  Nash settled into his seat. “Yes. He agreed after much questioning that we can marry.”

  “Questionin’?” She felt her face flush red. “How dare he ask anything of a fine man such as yerself. I’m sorry.”

  He leaned toward her and took her hands in his. Even in her distress, she couldn’t help but notice they were the hands of a gentleman. Strong and manly, yet smooth. Looking at his fingers, she observed they were well tended, not rough and calloused like the hands of the men of her acquaintance. His fingernails were healthy and clean with no half-moon-shaped lines of dirt. “You have no need to ask my forgiveness. Your father’s questions helped him earn my respect. If my intentions had been anything but honorable, he would have seen it, because his queries would have been hard for a man with ill intentions to answer truthfully. I know he’s rough on the edges, but I think in his own way he cares about you.” He gave her hands a quick reassuring squeeze and let them go. She wished he’d hold them forever.

  Becca thought her father’s real motives were caring about himself, but she decided not to argue. She lowered her voice and stared at the carriage floor. “He—he didn’t ask for money, did he?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” She let out a relieved breath. The sigh filled the carriage, surprising her with its intensity.

  “I want you to know I did offer your family a modest home.”

  She looked up and gasped
. “A house? He asked fer a house?” Without thinking, she glimpsed outside and observed the homes they passed and wondered if he planned to buy one of those. Since the most insignificant residence in his neighborhood would far surpass their present accommodations, no doubt Mother would be grateful.

  “No, he didn’t ask for a house,” Nash assured. “I offered it willingly. I hope you aren’t too distressed about that.”

  “Distressed? No, but I’m not for sale.”

  “I know. I’m being a bit selfish, I must admit. I think having your family nearby will make you happy, and your happiness in turn makes me happy. You see, after we’re married, I want you to see your family any time you like. I can see how much they mean to you.”

  This man thought of everything. She felt her throat closing as her emotions increased. “They—they do,” she somehow managed.

  “Your dedication to them increases your stature in my eyes. I’ve seen more of the world than you have, and you’d be surprised by how many people forget their families once something good happens to them or they gain access to a little money. It’s as though they’re ashamed of their relatives. I don’t see you as having such thoughts.”

  “Never.” She didn’t have to pretend her strong conviction.

  “Even better, I think the offer put aside any reservations your father might have had about my sincerity.”

  Becca didn’t want to admit that his report of the interview eased her mind, too. With each passing gesture, Nash convinced her he was a man of his word. If it had been proper, she would have embraced him on the spot.

  He changed the topic. “I told Cook we’d be content with vegetable soup and bread for luncheon. You’ll find soup is my favorite dish during the winter months. I hope you don’t mind that.”

  Though being in the carriage had dulled the winter chill, a bowl of steaming liquid to warm her inside and out sounded delectable. “I don’t mind in the least.”

  “Good. I’m sure she’ll have roast for dinner and no doubt fruit jam tarts as a treat for dessert.”

  “Everything sounds wonderful.” Her mouth watered in agreement, though she felt guilty since her family wouldn’t be eating so well.

  “I want you to stay fortified. We have a lot of work to do.”

  “A lot of work?” She tried to envision what he meant.

  He peered outside. “It seems we have arrived at our destination. If you’ll follow me to the parlor, we’ll sit and talk.”

  A nervous feeling hit, but the prospect of spending time with him in what had become her favorite room in the house cheered her. He helped her disembark, and they went to the formal room without delay. Becca took the chair she liked best and watched his movements as he sat across from her. No matter what his task—even something as mundane as seating himself in a chair—he moved with fluidity and grace, yet in a manner unmistakably masculine.

  He tried to assure her right away. “As for the work I mentioned, I promise it’s not as gloomy as spending your waking hours in the scullery.”

  She leaned forward. “What, then?”

  For the first time since they left the Hanhams’, he seemed uncertain about what to say next. He leaned forward and rubbed his thumbs together before looking her in the eyes. “Becca, may I be honest with you?”

  As long as she could keep looking into his mahogany eyes, she didn’t care what he had to say. She’d listen all day. “I hope ye’ll never be anything else.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Please try not to take offense at what I am about to explain to you, but it has to be said.” He paused and took a breath. “I’m sure you realize you haven’t been trained to be a lady accustomed to living a life filled with the finer things and mannerisms with which I am familiar.”

  “Oh.” She looked downward. “I know it.”

  “The work I mentioned isn’t work, really. In fact, I hope you can find pleasure in what I have in mind for you. It involves training you to be at ease among my friends and acquaintances.”

  “Trainin’ me? Ya mean I have ta go to school?” Recalling repetitive ciphering, she scrunched her nose.

  He chuckled. “Not exactly. I just want to show you how to conduct yourself in your new world, that’s all. You can trust me when I say I am doing this for you more than for myself. I want you to be comfortable in my world and able to present yourself as a refined woman. We will start with your wardrobe and your manner of speech.”

  “I don’t mind the idea of wearin’ pretty dresses, but I don’t know much about talkin’ like a society person.”

  This time he didn’t chuckle, but laughed outright. The musical sound broke the tension, and he relaxed in his chair. “You’re smart. You’ll get the idea soon enough. For one, be careful never to refer to riches or wealth. You must not appear to be self-conscious about having funds at your disposal. Doing so in our social setting is considered quite tactless and impolite.”

  “I—I think I can remember that.” Her lips curled in a rueful manner. “We don’t hardly ever talk about money where I come from either ’cause there ain’t none to talk about.”

  He flinched but recovered with good grace. Becca wondered if his embarrassment stemmed from her sorry financial state or the way she spoke. Maybe both. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, Harrod and I will be instructing you on how to form your words properly and how to speak with an expanded vocabulary.”

  Her stomach lurched with anxiety. “That sounds hard.”

  “It might seem strange at first, but you’ll soon become accustomed to speaking as a lady should, and before you realize it you’ll sound as though you attended a fine finishing school. Proper speech will become a habit. A habit you’ll be so proud of you’ll never want to break it.” The warmth in his gaze seemed convincing.

  “I guess.”

  “Better to say, ‘I suppose.’ ”

  “Oh.” She clapped her hand over her lips. “I suppose.”

  “I have also engaged a voice teacher for you. Mrs. James will be by this afternoon to evaluate your singing ability and let us know how she feels about your talent. Hopefully she can teach you at least one or two songs so you can sing in front of a small group of friends. Informally, of course.”

  “Sing? In front of a group?” The idea left her with nervous queasiness. “But how come?”

  “Being a lady means speaking and dressing well, of course, but knowing how to entertain at home is important as well. Fine ladies develop skills such as playing the pianoforte or singing. Sometimes both.”

  Her stomach jumped. “I just sing hymns with the rest of the congregation in our little church, and sometimes we sing old folk songs at home. I ain’t never sung in front of anybody who really cared much what I sounded like.”

  “Hymns and folk songs are fine. She can judge the range of your voice based on those. Remember, she’s there to work with you, not to be unduly critical or harsh.”

  “I ain’t so sure. . . .”

  “Oh, please do try. I think you’ll enjoy singing greatly once you have a few lessons,” he said. “I would have suggested the pianoforte, but I don’t think it will be possible to have you proficient in any song on such a complicated instrument in time to entertain our friends.”

  Our friends. That sounded divine. Divine enough for her to decide to overcome her fears. “Then I’ll sing as good as I can.”

  “As well as I can.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t care for the fact he had to correct her grammar, but at least he was kind and it was part of the lessons she had to learn. She wasn’t sure she could have abided someone less compassionate. “As well as I can.”

  “Very well.” He surveyed her appearance from the top of her head to the ends of her scuffed shoes. His gaze didn’t seem critical, nor was it without sympathy. Still, she knew her mode of dress and manners had a long way to go to be considered adequate. Remembering that both of her soles sported holes, with a self-conscious motion she planted both feet on the floor so he
wouldn’t see. “We must address the fact of your appearance.”

  “Yea,” she responded.

  “Yes.”

  Couldn’t she say a word that was right? “Yes.” She suppressed an impatient sigh.

  “As for your appearance, of course you already realize you cannot wear the same simple frock every day.” His voice sounded kind, and his eyes told her he wished he didn’t have to be so critical. “I thought you might enjoy an outing, so we’ll stop by the cobbler’s for several pairs of new shoes—”

  Several?

  “—and the milliner’s for new bonnets and hats.”

  New bonnets and hats? He said more than one? Shoes, too! The shoes she wore were several years old since her feet hadn’t grown in a while, and they were her only pair. Owning more than one new pair seemed like something out of a storybook.

  “You look pale,” he noticed. “Are you quite all right?”

  She nodded so fast her head must have looked like a bouncing ball. “I—I only hope I can be worthy to wear such finery.”

  “You are worthy, no matter what you wear.”

  “Well, if you’ll have me ta look like a lady, I’d better sound like one. I’ll work on me speech.”

  He grinned. “Better to say, ‘my speech.’ ”

  She clapped her hand over her lips again. “My speech.”

  His kind laughter filled the room. “You don’t need to put your hands over your mouth when you make a mistake. You have nothing about which to be ashamed. Even the best of us have to learn proper speech.”

  “E–even you?”

  “Even me.” He grinned. “My governess, Miss Winters, had quite a time with me, but she made sure I learned.”

  “Was she as cold as her name?” Becca couldn’t resist asking in jest.

  He leaned toward her. “Even colder.”

  Becca shivered in an exaggerated manner, but bolstered him. “Oh, I’m sure ya were a good little boy.”

  “Not as good as she would have liked, I’m afraid.” He changed the topic. “Oh, and I have wonderful news. I took the liberty of asking Harrod to hire a ladies maid for you.”