by Lily George
He opened the door of the chapel, which had been painted a lovely, rich shade of brown. It swung easily on its hinges, without emitting a rusty squeak. Yes, every detail had been accounted for. The stained-glass windows sparkled, casting jewel-toned patterns over the wooden floor. The cross that adorned the altar had been thoroughly polished and now gleamed in the pale afternoon sunlight. Scents intermingled—the citrus scent of lemon-polished wood, the slightly acrid smell of new velvet and the sharp contrast of new paint. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling. Yes. This was good.
Susannah broke free of his elbow and took a few steps forward. “Oh, it is lovely. Well done, Daniel. Your mother would be so very proud of you, and so happy that you’ve restored this tiny place to such grandeur.”
“Do you like it?” And it was no idle question. He desired Susannah’s good opinion with every fiber of his being. She was not one to give praise where it was not deserved. He hadn’t deferred to her on the matter of the tenants because he wanted to flatter her. Susannah would see through that straightaway. No—he desired her to care as much about Goodwin as he now realized he did.
If only she would think well of him, too. Not love him—he couldn’t ask that of her yet. But if only she would feel some measure of affection for him.
“Like it? Oh, like is too weak a word.” Susannah clasped her hands and spun around.
Daniel laughed, surprising them both. It had been so long since he’d seen Susannah do anything so girlish. Her manner had become so serious, so somber of late. ’Twas a beautiful thing to see her happy and lighthearted.
Susannah joined in his laughter, her eyes sparkling with mirthful tears. “I suppose I looked a right ninny.”
“Not at all. You’re delightful, Susy.” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush before he could halt them. How would she react? She prickled so whenever he tried to compliment her.
Her laughter ceased, but she offered him a hesitant smile. “Thank you.”
Well, that was something. At least she hadn’t flounced out of the chapel in a huff or hurled insults at him. Nor had she trundled past his compliment without acknowledging it. This was progress, then. And even though they’d seen everything there was to see in the chapel, there was no reason why they couldn’t linger a bit longer. Something about the atmosphere there—the quiet, the calm, the richness and beauty of it all—was drawing them closer together.
There was no other explanation for it.
He beckoned her over to Mother’s pew and sat. Susannah joined him, turning just a fraction to one side so they could see each other face-to-face. This, too, was a novel experience. Susannah turning toward him, and not away from him.
“Thank you for allowing me to show you this. And thank you for all your efforts on behalf of the tenants,” he offered. “I am afraid I am just working you harder than you ever worked in your shop. For when you are mistress here, I shall lean on you for everything.”
“I am happy to help. I love...I love Goodwin.” Her cheeks grew rosier in the dim sunlight. Or had he just imagined it?
“Do you really?” Susannah never minced words. There was no reason to doubt her. But still—hearing it spoken aloud made his heart swell with pride.
“I do. I am so glad you stayed here. Even if you did so simply to rescue me. Goodwin needs you.” She glanced away from him and began drawing circles on the bare wooden floor with the toe of her slipper.
“I didn’t merely rescue you,” he admitted. “I didn’t simply do what was right. I wanted you to marry me. I still do.” ’Twas the truth, after all.
She opened her mouth as though to protest but then closed it and kept staring down at the floor.
Should he press the matter? Tell her the complete and utter truth? That his life would be meaningless and purposeless without her by his side? Strange that they were going to be married in a matter of weeks—the most intimate relationship a man could experience—and he still felt as though he must conceal his true feelings from her.
“How are things going...with the change in your drinking habits?” The question came from out of the blue, and Susannah bit her lip after she spoke the words, as though she wished she could take them all back.
Well, ’twas her right to know. It was a condition she asked him to agree to, and difficult though it was, his abstinence would make him a better master for Goodwin. “It’s not as simple as I thought it would be,” he admitted. “Paul thinks I am insane. But it has made me a better man, and so for that I should be grateful.” He sighed. “I actually prayed to be worthy of all this. My first time to pray, Susannah. So much in my life has changed for the better. I want to be worthy of it all.”
Susannah nodded slowly, turning her eyes up to his. “I understand. And I am so proud of you, Daniel. You are deepening and growing in so many ways. Accepting God into your life—turning to Him—this is a profound step.”
“It’s so difficult, though. I must admit, the thought of liquor is as intoxicating at times as the actual taste of it.” He admitted this because he needed someone else to hear it. Someone strong, like Susannah. “And it is all I can do not to go down into the cellar and take one of the few remaining bottles. I’d uncork the thing and drink myself into a stupor if I could.”
The silence before them stretched into an eternity. He had gone too far. He had pressed too much, revealed too much, and Susannah was backing away from him, fleeing in spirit as though she were running as fast as she could over the hills back to her shop. What a dunce he’d been. He should have just shown her the chapel and been done.
On the other hand, she had brought up the drinking herself. So she was as much to blame for this sudden awkwardness.
Well, he had to do something. They couldn’t just sit in silence forever. He removed his hand from her arm and started to rise.
“Giving up anything you have depended upon is difficult, Daniel.” Susannah rose and grasped his elbow. “I know.”
He turned to face Susannah. Her eyes, in the dim afternoon sunlight, turned a mysterious shade of gray. And if he squinted just a bit, he could pick out the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Susannah was a natural beauty. How many times in his travels had he seen women who were painted or plucked or stuffed within an inch of their lives? And none of them could hold a candle to her as she stood now, with her small pointed chin turned up and her magnificent eyes gazing into his.
“Yes, but you’ve always been brave.” He was the one holding still now as she reached out to him. Any sudden movement might break this lovely peace. They were walking together through a mist, in a way, and he could see the clearing if only they could walk slowly.
“Not always. In fact, hardly ever. I’ve spent many nights crying quietly into my pillow, or pacing the floor after the girls have fallen asleep.” She gave him a wry smile. “What you are trying is no mean feat, and I am here to help in any way I can.”
“I shall depend upon your help.” He was holding himself still, as though she were a deer he might startle with any kind of quick movement. “Teach me, by your example, to grow closer to Christ. To invite Him into my heart. That was something that Reverend Kirk and I spoke about. I will need your help every day for the rest of my life, Susy. Will you help me?”
“Of course I will.” She gazed at him, her eyes turning a darker shade of green in the dim light. “I should like nothing better.” She turned briskly, and the moment of intimacy between them was broken. “I suppose we should be getting back. I have no idea how long it will be until my sisters wear Paul out.”
She was right, of course. Even so, he hated to go. “Oh, I am sure that Paul is having the time of his life. He grew up in a large family, you know. Seven sisters and three brothers, and he the eldest of them all. I am certain that squiring Nan and Becky about is merely reminding him of the years he spent playing chaperone to his own sisters.”
&n
bsp; “Ten siblings! Upon my word, I would have no idea what to do with myself if I had to shepherd that many. As it is, two are enough to keep me hopping.” She tucked her hand into his elbow once more, as though it was all quite natural and matter-of-fact, and as though nothing profound was transpiring between them at all.
He must give her time. Even though he knew the truth of his feelings for her, and even though he knew how very vital she was in his life, he could not press his suit. If he did, she would withdraw further and further until she had left him completely.
He must, for once in his life, practice patience. His reward would be worth it in the end.
* * *
“Paul, you are a tease,” Nan scolded. “I know very well that the object you’re thinking of is a flower, so don’t prevaricate any longer, if you please.”
Susannah glanced up from her sewing, a stern rebuke for Nan writ plain across her features. An afternoon’s acquaintance wasn’t nearly long enough for her sister to speak so familiarly to a man. And really, Nan must learn not to be so forthright. Why, here was Paul, entertaining the girls with a silly game as they whiled away the long afternoon at Goodwin, and Nan was already insulting him instead of merely being thankful that someone was willing to play.
“He is a dreadful cheat, Nan.” Daniel propped himself up on his elbow. He had been reclining on the floor at Susannah’s feet, reading through one of the interminable ledger books that Donaldson had left for him. “Don’t let him get away with it.”
“Says the young man who once won an entire game of faro with a raised eyebrow,” Paul retorted, his hearty laugh filling the room. “Daniel is notorious throughout London for his ability to mask and bluff while playing cards.”
Susannah’s heart lurched, but she kept her countenance. She stabbed the needle through the fabric with the precision of a machine. Daniel had led a very worldly life—much more so than she. ’Twas unfair to think that he would change once they were married. But still—any mention of faro brought up the memory of Uncle Arthur, and his gaming debts, and his insistence that she, Susannah, must save the family from the ruin he’d caused.
“That was years ago, and it wasn’t even that good of a bluff. Some other young buck will have to take my place as the most infamous faro player in Town. I have other, more important business to attend to. I am a farmer now, if you will but recall.”
Susannah shifted her gaze from her sewing to Daniel’s face. His eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the ledger, but with a slight and gentle gesture, he reached over and tapped the toe of her slipper with his quill pen.
Susannah’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized until he touched her that she’d drawn them up to the very tips of her earlobes.
“Ah, how very disappointing. Fine, then. You have me at your mercy, Nan. You’ve won that round.” Paul made an exaggerated half bow to Nan and then turned to Becky. “Your turn, my dear.”
They nattered on, playing their silly game. Daniel scratched his pen across the ledger, making notes. The fire crackled in the grate, and the wind—which had started out as a playful fall breeze—began howling in earnest. How nice to be cozy in the parlor together, everyone enjoying each other’s company, everything snug and warm. And even the tenants were being seen to, which made the enjoyment of this afternoon together even more joyous because it was not selfishly spent.
She cast another glance over at her sisters. Was everyone behaving themselves? Yes, yes, they were. Becky was speaking to Paul, her wide eyes sparkling as she described some object for him to hazard a guess upon. Very good. With her sisters occupied and not in immediate need of her guiding hand, she could allow her mind to wander.
Some intense change had come over her since their quiet moments in the chapel. They were bound together now. Equal partners in a terrifying yet exhilarating venture. They were both giving up something that symbolized freedom. And Daniel had embraced his faith, and would rely on her to help him, just as she relied on him.
That moment in the chapel—what she’d said to Daniel was true. Giving up something she depended upon was a terrifying thing. Once, she had surrendered control to Daniel. She’d bobbed along in the wake of his plan, convinced that he would make everything right. And when that did not happen, she built up her own tower of strength in the shop. And now that shop would have to be passed on to her sisters. She was relinquishing control of the one thing that kept her safe and secure, certain in her own purpose. The shop was supposed to be her haven over the years, but ’twas time to let it go. She must do so, for there was no other way. There were too many things that needed her attention at Goodwin. The tenants. The household.
Her husband.
She stole a glance down at Daniel. Funny, she always expected to see the boy he had been, but of course, time had wrought its changes. He was taller, and filled out, and more angular than he had been when they were fifteen. The planes of his face were darkening as the day wore on—he’d need a shave in the morning. He was a man now, and a man to whom she would give her life in just a few weeks’ time.
Becky’s words drifted into her mind. Let things happen. What a novel concept.
What if she forgave Daniel for what happened in the past? He had apologized once before, and was working to make things right. And after all, he was a mere boy when everything transpired. How many boys, when confronted by a breathless, sobbing girl, would propose marriage on the spot? He was brave and kind then, as he was now. Only now, he had matured and become the kind of person who followed through on his promises. As he was trying to do with giving up liquor, and how he had stepped in to save her from the rumor mill.
What if she finally let go and let things happen?
What if she admitted to herself that she was falling in love with Daniel?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I have assembled us all for a very important purpose.” Susannah sat at the head of the worn oak table and assumed her most commanding “eldest sister” expression. “We must talk seriously about our future here in Tansley.”
“You’ve been acting exceedingly odd since we met at Daniel’s house a week ago,” Nan replied dryly. “I rather expected a talking-to. Why did it take you so long?”
“And why are we discussing our future in Tansley?” Becky grasped a lock of her dark hair and began twirling it around her forefinger. “I thought the matter was settled. You’re marrying Daniel in a fortnight, and then Nan and I shall keep the shop. Is that not so?”
Susannah felt rather deflated. After all, this was her moment, her grand pronouncement as head of the family. And moreover, she’d kept her roiling emotions well hidden, or so she thought. There was no need for Nan to act so superior, or for Becky to become so agitated.
“A few things have changed since we visited Goodwin last week,” she began. ’Twas hard to say the words properly, as she had rehearsed them in her head over the past few days, when her sisters were taking on so. “Important things that I must discuss with you.”
“Very well. We are listening.” Becky elbowed Nan. Nan scowled and rubbed her upper arm, but she did stop short of interjecting an acerbic comment.
“What’s changed is this.” Susannah paused and took a deep breath. This was most difficult to say, for it meant putting aside all her reservations and her hesitations. Once said, the words could not be unsaid. “I realize... I know now...that I am...in love with Daniel.”
The words tumbled out of her in a rush. She hazarded a quick, darting glance over at her sisters. Nan gaped openly, her mouth forming a perfect little O. Becky smiled, her wide blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
“Oh, Susannah,” she breathed, clasping her hands. “How wonderful.”
“Wonderful and terrifying,” Susannah admitted. “I have found that I must relinquish all my earlier prejudices against Daniel, and that has been most difficult.”
“But—you have relinquished them?” Becky tilted her head to one side, as though considering the matter.
“Yes.” Yes, she had. She could no longer hold her fiancé responsible for the decisions he made as a boy. They had no bearing on the man he had become.
“Hooray!” Becky leaped from her spot at the table and hurtled toward Susannah, enveloping her in a fierce embrace. “Oh, I knew it would be so. What a romantic story you two have shared. True love thwarted...forgiveness...and he your hero, after all!”
“I wouldn’t put things in quite so melodramatic a fashion, Becky,” Susannah said with a laugh. She squeezed her sister before untangling herself from Becky’s embrace. Then she glanced over at Nan, who was still sitting as though dumbstruck. Her heart lurched. Was Nan somehow displeased? “Nan? What say you about this?”
“I say...” Nan shook her head slowly, her eyes downcast. “I say...’tis the first time I’ve heard my bossy eldest sister own up to a mistake.” She raised her eyes to Susannah’s and laughed. “I am so happy for you, Sue.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” Susannah retorted. “I’m always eager to make amends for my mistakes.”
Nan and Becky rolled their eyes at each other, a private gesture that—though it was playfully intended—always made it quite clear that Susannah was the mother figure, while they were the daughters and chums together.
When she married Daniel, she might finally have someone with whom she could be best chums, as well as husband and wife. That would be quite nice. Loneliness could be so all-consuming. Perhaps marriage was more about companionship and partnership than capitulation.
“Does Daniel know?” Becky flounced back over to her place at the table and sat. “Have you admitted this to him, as well?”
“I— Uh.” No, she hadn’t. It took all of her courage and strength to tell the truth of her emotions to her sisters. What on earth would it take for her to own the truth to Daniel? “Not yet.”
“Well, you should do so without delay. Aren’t you going to Goodwin this afternoon?” Nan smiled. “Perfect opportunity.”
