Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “Think nothing of it.” Duncan stayed where he stood, blocking her exit. “You complimented John and Emily. I happen to agree.”

  “Please excuse me.” She took the book from him and scurried into the house.

  Duncan watched her go. When he turned back, he spied her shawl. It had slipped off the bench and lay in a pool of—cashmere? He picked it up and fingered the fine fabric. What was a maid doing with such a pricey piece of goods?

  “Duncan—I wondered where you went.” Timothy strode toward him.

  Duncan dropped the soft, pale yellow shawl on the bench. “Did you want me for something?”

  “Yeah.” A smirk tilted Tim’s mouth. They fell in step and walked around a hedge, out of view from the house. Tim lowered his voice. “Mother is in rare form. She’s bound and determined to stick you with a wife.”

  “So I noticed.”

  “Well, I thought you’d like to know she told Lily to gather flowers tomorrow morning so she and Anna could make arrangements for the parlor and dining room, and she asked Cook to make her Seafood Newburg.”

  Duncan stopped in his tracks. “Flowers are normal enough—but Seafood Newburg? Emily’s escalating her schemes. Who’s the next bridal prospect in her petticoat parade?”

  “Opal Ferguson.” Timothy toed a small rock. It skittered along and stopped at the edge of the path. “She seemed to have designs on Sean Kingsley, but he and Caroline eloped two weeks ago. Between Opal and her determined mama, you’re going to be hard-pressed to slip out of the marriage noose.”

  Duncan groaned. “I thought we’d already scraped the bottom of the barrel. I’ve conversed with the abysmally misnamed Prudence. Adele actually drew a map in her mashed potatoes to demonstrate what portion of the States she estimates will revolt if Lincoln is elected. Antonia would break every glass in the house with that voice of hers. But Opal?” He grimaced. “I thought Emily loved me.”

  His nephew chortled. “She does. I overheard her telling Father a wife would settle you down.”

  “I’d sooner lash logs to a bathtub and row it across the Atlantic than be settled with Opal Ferguson.”

  “Opal generally gets whatever she wants.” Tim shot him a pained look. “And she wants to be your wife.”

  “A spoiled henwit isn’t to my liking. She cannot read or cipher any better than the twins. I’d never be able to go to sea and trust our home to her care.”

  His nephew poked him in the ribs. “You could take her to sea with you.”

  “I thought you felt a need to bite some salt air.”

  “Hey!” Tim gave him an outraged look. “Are you saying you won’t take me if I don’t help you evade the girls?”

  “No, I’m saying nothing of the kind.” Duncan wrapped his arm around his nephew and gave him a manly squeeze as he started to saunter along. “Though if I wed, according to family tradition, I’d be expected to take my bride on my next voyage—not my nephews. Any of Emily’s prospects would cause me to jump overboard.”

  Timothy laughed.

  “You, on the other hand—you’ll be an asset. Aye, and I’m looking forward to having you help me teach some of the crew. The pity is, several of the immigrants who hire on can barely sign their names.”

  “I’d be glad to help, but I’m no schoolmaster or tutor, Duncan. I want to learn the ropes just as you did.”

  Duncan stopped and gave the teen a solid pair of pats on his shoulder, then broke contact. “Ignorance lives in us all, Tim. It’s just that we all have areas where we shine. A man’s dignity is important. You’ll trade them your book learning for their seafaring wisdom.”

  “Are you saying I’m going out this next voyage?”

  “Emily will have her final say, but I’m planning on it—unless she shackles me with a bride.” He twisted his features into an expression of distaste. “Sure as the sun rises, it won’t be Opal. Once I heard Sean married, I feared I’d be her next target.”

  “Why is that? Because Opal’s mama is so scheming?”

  “I refuse to delude myself, Tim.” Duncan stared out at the horizon from the hilltop of the estate. Moonlight danced on the waves until the ocean blended with the night sky. “I’m of marginal class. I’m a full-blooded Irish immigrant, and every last one of these lasses—especially Opal—would turn up her nose if I didn’t have a ship to my name.”

  He paused, then continued. “I’m accepted in society because of John’s marriage to my sister, and it’s known I’ll provide well for my bride; but truth is, I’ll not be tied to a woman who believes she lowered herself when she wed me. If ’tis my family connections and money that draw her, ’twill be a miserable marriage.”

  “And you think I’ll be any better off?” Tim jammed his fists in his pockets and paced back and forth. “My real father didn’t even marry my mother—”

  Duncan listened to his nephew. Tim rarely said a word about his birth, so he needed to blow off some steam. Taking him to sea would be wise. He’d always been a somber child, and his feelings ran deep. As he stretched into his manhood, he would need self-confidence to counterbalance his true father’s betrayal.

  “It’s proud of you, I am.” Duncan stuck those words in before Tim could catch his breath and continue. Duncan had learned long ago that Tim rarely spoke his heart; and if he completely emptied it, he’d retreat in embarrassment. By listening to his nephew, then cutting the flow as it started to trickle down, Duncan knew he would help the lad save face.

  “Proud?” Tim gave him a stunned look.

  “Aye. You’re wise beyond your years. Many a man goes to his grave believing his worth is what others assigned to him. God gave His Son to ransom you—and that is your true value. Ne’er lose sight of that. Any man or woman who looks down on you isn’t worthy of your love. John and Emily know that—and it’s the secret of how they’ve made their marriage work.”

  “Then why is she trying to match you up with all these women? Can’t she see how ridiculous it is?”

  Duncan chuckled. “I wouldn’t pretend to know the way my sister’s mind works. The one thing I do know is I’m grateful for your warning about tomorrow night. I’ll sorely miss having Cook’s Seafood Newburg, but ’tis a loss I’ll gladly suffer since it’ll allow me to avoid Opal and her mama.”

  Tim let out a sigh. “You wouldn’t happen to include me in your plans so I could miss out, too, would you?”

  A slow smile tugged at Duncan’s lips. “It seems to me I’ll need some papers to show Old Kemper about the ship. Specifications. I’ll leave them on the desk in my room. You might want to deliver them in the afternoon. Oh—and bring one more thing. It’s very important.”

  “What?”

  “Three licorice ropes.”

  Chapter 4

  Brigit sat by the window up in her bedroom. She could see Duncan and Timothy out on the lawn. Guilt speared through her. Rattled at how she’d babbled to Duncan instead of remembering her changed station in life, she’d scurried off.

  It was truly Duncan’s fault. The rascal could charm a river into running backward. She’d been minding her own business, enjoying the peaceful evening, when he happened by. He didn’t have to stop. In fact, he shouldn’t have. But I could have stayed silent or excused myself straightaway instead of sitting there, chattering like a magpie.

  She’d barely made it into the house when she realized she’d left her shawl on the bench. It couldn’t stay out there—it was a special treasure. She’d gone back after it and overheard some of what Duncan said to Timothy.

  Humility was a rare enough quality in men, but he’d taken it to an extreme. Why would a man like that feel he wasn’t good enough for any woman in the town? With wonderful auburn curls and a ready smile, Duncan O’Brien looked as handsome as Adam must have on the day of creation; and from his conversations, anyone could determine he was as smart as a whip. Aye, and generosity and patience also counted in his favor—she’d heard about his concern to teach his men to read. Yet Duncan didn’t give himself credit for t
hose fine points; he dismissed them and assumed the lasses wanted him only for the jingle in his pockets.

  Granted, a sound marriage needed to be based on more than financial considerations—no man or woman wanted to be viewed only for the depth of his or her pockets—but to Brigit’s way of thinking, Duncan underestimated his appeal. When God had made him, surely He’d made a good man.

  Some lass would be blessed to have him. She heard Trudy bumping about in the room next door. Brigit let out a moan. The poor lass still carried a torch for Duncan O’Brien. A sad thing, that. Trudy built up her hopes each day, only to get them dashed when Duncan stayed oblivious to her presence. Miss Emily must have noticed the longing in Trudy’s eyes, because she’d been assigning her to tasks that kept her away from Duncan. For true, Duncan O’Brien deserved more than a mere servant as his bride.

  “Blest be the tie that binds—” Duncan suddenly stopped singing.

  Prudence, dressed in yet another pink frock, twisted around and sang the next line of the hymn while batting her lashes at him. “Our hearts in Christian love …”

  Trapped in church. Wasn’t there something about amnesty—no, sanctuary—that’s what it was. Church was supposed to be a safe place, a house of worship and peace—not a matchmaker’s hunting ground. The first hymn of the morning had been “How Shall the Young Secure Their Hearts?” which was followed immediately by “Love Divine, All Love Excelling.” Now they were binding hearts in Christian love. Lord, I’m sorry for the fact that I’ve ceased singing, but I’m sure You understand. I don’t want to mislead anyone into thinking I’m planning a courtship. I’ll just stay silent for this one hymn….

  “How wonderful, knowing we are all bonded together in Christ’s love.” The parson beamed at the congregation. “Please turn in your hymnals to hymn number sixty-seven, ‘O Happy Home, Where Thou Art Loved Most Dearly.’”

  The pianist and organist both played the opening chords as Duncan glowered at Emily. A snicker sounded beside him, so he subtly stepped on Timothy’s toes to hush him.

  Lord, I’m a man of my word. I said I’d stand down for just that one hymn. Couldn’t You have taken mercy and inspired the parson to choose a different hymn? Maybe “A Mighty Fortress” or “My Soul, Be on Thy Guard” or even “In the Hour of Trial”?

  Duncan suppressed the sensation of being the center of attention and kept his gaze firmly on the cross at the front of the sanctuary. He took a deep breath and started to sing with the congregation. “O happy home, where Thou art loved most dearly …”

  Chapter 5

  Psst. Unca Duncan. C’mere.”

  Duncan spied his youngest nephew on the far side of the umbrella stand. It provided barely enough cover for the lad; Duncan wouldn’t stand a chance of remaining unseen.

  If Emily doesn’t leave me alone, I’m going to start living aboard a landlocked ship or convince John to start sending me on the transatlantic voyages so I can get away from this never-ending petticoat parade.

  Phillip pressed a forefinger to his lips and used the thumb on his other hand to point toward the dining room. In what Duncan supposed was intended to be a whisper, the boy announced, “Girls.”

  Duncan didn’t need to be told. The cloying scents of several floral fragrances mingled and gave warning. He glanced toward the stairs, pointed upward, and reached out for Phillip’s hand. Gleefully, Phillip launched from his hiding place. He snatched Duncan’s hand, and they hastened for safety. They reached the first step, and Duncan let out a sigh of relief.

  “Duncan!” Emily’s cheerful voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

  Phillip let out a loud groan. Duncan wished he could do the same. Instead he glanced over his shoulder. “Hello, Emily.”

  “I was rather hoping you’d be home for lunch. Please come join us. Phillip, did you wash your hands?”

  “Yes, Mama.” Phillip turned loose of Duncan’s hand and wiggled his stubby fingers in the air. “See?”

  “Good for you. Now go get your brothers.” She gave him a Mama’s-wise-to-you look. “I expect all three of my sons to be at the table immediately. Be sure to tell them Uncle Duncan is joining us.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Phillip scrambled up the stairs.

  Emily approached. Duncan couldn’t decide whether to growl or smile at her. The words were on the tip of his tongue to tell his sister to stop this stream of marriageable material—he simply wasn’t fishing. Then again, manners demanded he not embarrass her. The time would come for him to confront her when these young ladies were gone. In the meantime, at least he’d have his nephews with him so he could steer the conversation to include them and bore the women to tears.

  “Several young ladies are here to visit Anna Kathleen and Lily.”

  “Is that so?” The ruse was so painfully thin that he felt a stab of disbelief. Does Emily think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t see past that lie? Then another thought crossed his mind. If these scheming minxes were using his nieces as a means of getting to him, he’d put a stop to it here and now. He refused to allow his family to be used as tools.

  Emily had threaded her arm through his and started toward the dining room. She must have felt his sudden tension, but she didn’t stop. Lips barely moving, she said, “I need you to display your best manners. You’re an example for my children, you know.”

  A stream of giggles filled the air.

  Duncan groaned and shot his sister a heated look.

  “You can make it through this. I’ll help you.” A charming smile lit her face.

  How many times had Emily said that to him? She’d been true to her word each and every time. Long ago, when he’d been but six slim years, she’d taught him how to change Timothy’s nappies. She’d held him close at their sister’s graveside and made the same promise. Aye, and when they’d both needed to learn the finer points of gracious living after she wed John, she’d been his confidant and ally. They’d literally gone from rags to riches, but no matter what her circumstances, Emily was Emily. He loved his big sister for that.

  “I’ll do this for you.” He gave her a tender smile.

  “Thank you.”

  Duncan mentally battened down his hatches for the storm ahead. He would weather it. ‘Twas but one insignificant meal. Aye, and with his nieces and nephews at the table, he’d most certainly find a way to enjoy the luncheon. A single step more, and he could see the staff had added every last spare leaf to the dining table, elongating it to accommodate twenty. Twenty!

  “How long have you been planning this little event?”

  “Since Sunday,” Emily admitted in a gratingly cheerful tone. They walked into the dining room, and she singsonged, “Look who’s joining us!”

  Anna Kathleen twirled about. Her hoops swayed precariously, but rather than making her usual sound of exasperation, she beckoned. “Duncan! How wonderful! Do come meet my friends.”

  Duncan glanced about. A solid dozen or more young girls filled the room. Frilly party attire in nearly every pastel hue turned the room into a veritable feminine rainbow, and most of the girls were still young enough to wear their hair down. Relief coursed through his veins. He’d not been duped into a matchmaking scheme—these lasses still spent their days in the schoolroom.

  Lunch passed with relative ease. Duncan found the youngsters refreshing. When Timothy shot him a stricken look, Duncan determined the brunette in the greenish dress seemed to be far more interested than his nephew wished. Recalling the youngster on Tim’s other side was named Bernice, Duncan smoothly went to the rescue. “Tim, have you told Miss Bernice about your plans for next month?”

  The brunette clouded over, but Tim and Bernice both lit up. Tim shot Duncan a grateful look, then focused his attention on the red-haired girl. “I’m to help with the fittings on my uncle’s new vessel, and I’ll be going on the next voyage to Massachusetts.”

  Duncan congratulated himself. All went well enough. Since it was an unscheduled event in the middle of a busy day, he didn’t mind the fact that he’d need t
o rearrange some of his plans. Family came first. Being the wonderful mother she was, Emily had concocted this little affair for her daughters and sons to enjoy their friends and learn the necessary social skills to help them through life. Duncan figured the least he could do was serve as an example.

  Or so he thought until a flock of mamas and big sisters swept in to collect the girls.

  Pink Prudence, Adele, and Antonia—whose name he’d not recall unless he associated her with a similar sounding name, A-tune-ia—all made appearances. Oh, and he’d been introduced to a few oh-so-available sisters who were home from finishing school as well as the gangly, bucktoothed granddaughter of their nearest neighbor. Decorum demanded he act with utter gentility. Under any other circumstances, he’d not mind a bit. This rated as different though. Duncan felt like a sailor who fell overboard into a school of hungry sharks.

  Tonight he would sit Emily down and make it plain. No more of this nonsense.

  Brigit sat in the nursery with the twins. She’d come up to mind them so Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb could have a quiet evening together. The little girls filled the last ten minutes with complaints, bemoaning the tragic fact that they hadn’t been included in today’s party. Leftover little treats from the luncheon party remained in the kitchen, so Brigit suggested, “June and Julie, why don’t we have our verra own bedtime tea party?”

  In no time at all, the three of them huddled at a small table. They weren’t alone. Three tin soldiers stood at attention on the empty side of the table. “Now aren’t you clever lasses?” Brigit nodded approvingly. “We’ve handsome companions for our party, and I doubt anyone ever saw such a scrumptious spread.”

  “I’d have to agree,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

  Startled, Brigit twisted in her chair to see if her ears had deceived her. No, they hadn’t. Duncan O’Brien lounged against the doorframe, his arms folded, his hair wind ruffled, and a twinkle in his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, and a rakish smile lifted the right side of his mouth.