A Timeless Romance Anthology: Sarah M. Eden British Isles Collection

by Sarah M. Eden

  “Ya wish me to help ya win her over?” Her heart dropped at the thought.

  He nodded enthusiastically. “What better person to help me than you? Ye’re a woman.”

  “Noticed that, did ya?” she muttered.

  “So what do ya suggest?”

  Thickheaded, foolish man!

  She picked up her pace, tension pushing her ahead. “I’ve no advice for ya, Isaac. Ye’ll have to sort this one out on yer own.”

  “No advice at all?” He spoke from a bit behind her, no longer keeping pace. “Because ya can’t think of anything? Or because ya don’t want to help me?”

  Not want to help him? He made her sound selfish, petty. Could he not even guess at her reasons? She was jealous and heartbroken. But she was also worried. She didn’t know Sophia Kilchrest personally, but there was something about her she didn’t like. But she did like Isaac, more than seemed advisable, in fact.

  She slowed her steps enough for him to reach her side again. “Can ya tell me what it is about Miss Kilchrest that has captured ya?”

  Something like relief entered his expression. He thought her question a sign she meant to help rather than a moment of self-inflicted pain. To know why she’d been passed over wouldn’t necessarily help ease her regrets. She only hoped knowing the whys would lead to some degree of acceptance.

  “Well,” Isaac said, his tone filled with pondering, “she’s beautiful.”

  There was no arguing that. Alice knew she was no beauty, though she’d not thought herself wholly plain.

  “And she is genteel and sophisticated.”

  All things Alice knew she was not, and yet that ought to have been an argument in her favor. “What in heaven’s name is a genteel and sophisticated woman going to do living on a farm?”

  He shook his head firmly, eyes turned directly ahead. “Ya make me sound as though I live in a tiny crofter’s cottage on a half-acre of barren soil.”

  “I said nothing of the sort.” She’d learned over the four months she’d known Isaac Dancy that he could be a bit touchy about his land. “I know ya have some of the best land in all of County Cavan. And I further know ya’ve built a fine home for yerself. But in the mind of a woman like Sophia Kilchrest, who has lived all her life in a town the size of Cavan in a fancy house with all the comforts she must have there, the life of a farmer’s wife will be entirely foreign to her.”

  Isaac didn’t appear to even ponder her very logical argument. “She has a kind heart and giving spirit. Such a woman wouldn’t turn her nose up at the life I have to offer her. I’ve told her enough of my home and life. If she hated the idea, she’d not have continued acknowledging me week to week. And she certainly would have answered my question yesterday with a no.”

  Alice wondered if Miss Kilchrest was simply stringing Isaac along. She couldn’t prove it, nor make any argument that would likely convince him. Neither could she force herself to help the man who’d captured her heart win over another woman.

  He’d long since set his mind to courting Miss Kilchrest. Though his determination and dependability were among the reasons Alice liked him so very much, his stubbornness could, at times, be so very frustrating.

  “I wish ya luck of it, Isaac. I’ve a feeling Miss Kilchrest will not be easy to win over.”

  He shoved his hands once more into the pockets of his coat. “Then how do I go about it? I gave her flowers yesterday, but so did everyone else. My offering didn’t seem to stand out to her.”

  Sophia Kilchrest is a fool. Alice once again brushed her fingertips along the petals of the flower Isaac had only just given her.

  The road made its lumbering turn around the lake, a wind blowing off the water that made her shiver. She’d need to start wearing her heavier coat as the season turned. Winters were not generally bitter in Ireland, but they were decidedly cold and, more often than not, wet.

  “Do women have a favorite flower?” Isaac asked. “Perhaps if I chose better, she’d appreciate it more.”

  Isaac is a fool too, it seems. “Giving a woman flowers isn’t about the flowers. A woman who really loves a man will love any flower he gives her, not because of the flower, but because of him. She’d not even need offerings. Simply being with him would be enough.” Isaac had picked flowers for her now and then during their walks to and from Cavan, but she hadn’t needed such things. He treated her kindly. He shared his thoughts and his worries. They’d found an ease with each other and, she thought, a closeness unique to the two of them. “If a woman really loved a man, she’d light up simply because he was nearby and think of him when they’re apart. She’d be just as happy talking with him as she would be spending an afternoon in silence. ’Twouldn’t matter in the least, so long as they were together.”

  She’d all-but bared her soul, nearly confessed what she never intended to. But did Isaac realize as much?

  If his distant expression were any indication, he’d not made the connection. “I’m competing with half the men in County Cavan. I have to think of some way to stand out.”

  Alice shook her head, both out of frustration and sadness. How could he not see what was so obvious? “If she loves ya enough to marry ya, Isaac, then none of those other men would matter in the least.”

  He picked up a pebble off the road and skipped it over the rippling water. “Ya don’t understand.”

  “What don’t I understand? I’m a woman, like ya said.”

  He pulled his hat down more snugly on his head. “A woman, aye, but not one who has men clamoring after her.”

  The man might just as well have slapped her for all the sharp, immediate pain of that observation. No, she hadn’t hordes of men desperate to enjoy the pleasure of her company. She hadn’t even one.

  “Billy likes me, so I suppose that’s something.” She knew if Isaac pressed her about Billy, she wouldn’t be able to lie to him, but admitting the only man who thought her special actually thought of her the way a child did a playmate would only humiliate her that much more. She rushed her words, not wanting to give him a chance to ask questions. “I’m meaning to stop here a bit, spend some time at the lake before winter comes.”

  When she stopped, so did Isaac. Thoughts flitted across his face. His mouth moved without sound. She set her gaze out over the water, grey with the clouds hovering above. She’d rather look at the scene in front of her than see rejection in the face of the man beside her.

  “You can go on ahead.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew that “going on ahead” was what she desperately needed him to do. Being with him while his heart was elsewhere, listening to him sing another woman’s praises, was more than her battered heart could bear.

  “I can’t leave ya all by yerself.”

  Ya already have. “I know my way, I assure ya.”

  “But—”

  “Ya have animals to see to. We’ve spoken of them all, I’ll remind ya.” Indeed, she knew the name of his horse, both his cows. She knew exactly how many chickens he had, how many pigs. She knew just what was planted in every acre of his farm, despite never having actually been there. Sophia Kilchrest likely didn’t know any of those things. Alice would wager Sophia didn’t care, either.

  “Ye’re certain ye’ll be fine here alone?”

  Alice nodded. She needed to be alone. Needed it.

  Isaac hesitated. “But ye’d have to walk the rest of the way by yerself.”

  She managed to smile at him, though her heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Then, I’ll see ya on Saturday, I guess.”

  Alice knew in that moment she couldn’t endure another walk like she’d just had. Listening to him speak at length about his plans with Miss Kilchrest, hearing him tick off a list of how ideal she was, would be torture. Even making her walk in to Cavan alone would be better.

  “Actually, I need to make the walk early this next weekend. But I know ya can’t leave sooner than ya always do, what with yer chores and all. So ye’d best just make the walk and not wait ab
out for me.”

  “But we always walk together.”

  That he would miss her, at least a little, was only small comfort. Her company was not dear enough to him to push Miss Kilchrest from his mind and plans. ’Twas best to make a clean cut.

  “If ye’re hopes for Miss Kilchrest come to be, ye’ll not need to make that walk at all.” She tried to look encouraging.

  He asked a few more times if she was absolutely certain she wished him to leave her there. He finally seemed to accept her insistence and continued down the road alone.

  In the silence he left behind, Alice sighed. She ought to have realized at some point in the last four months that Isaac was determined to continue with his courtship of Miss Kilchrest, and that no amount of wishing and caring on her part would turn his thoughts to courting her instead.

  Alice pulled the sowthistle from her hair, spinning it about between her fingers. He’d given his intended flowers, but the woman hadn’t cared. This tiny wildflower to Alice was a treasure. But it was also something of an arrow to the heart. He’d given it to her offhand, with no real meaning.

  She stepped up to the lake’s edge and set the flower in the water. It floated slowly away from shore. Alice watched it, wishing her heartache could drift away as easily.

  She’d leave early for Cavan on Saturday, and Sunday return early to the farm where she worked. She would make the walk on her own and maybe, in time, learn to push Isaac Dancy from her heart.

  And on that thought, she watched Isaac’s flower tip in the water and sink from sight.

  Chapter Four

  Alice didn’t come to their meeting spot that Saturday, and neither did she meet him on Farnham road for the walk back. To Isaac’s surprise, she didn’t make an appearance the next weekend, either.

  He had so many questions for her. Why, when he offered Miss Kilchrest another bouquet, one he thought was nice, didn’t she seem any more enthusiastic than she’d been with the first one? Had Miss Kilchrest’s collection of admirers diminished, or was he imagining it? Why did Mr. and Mrs. Kilchrest seem more inviting of late?

  More important than any of the other questions, he wanted to know where Alice had gone, why she didn’t walk with him anymore.

  Late November gave way to earliest December, and still he didn’t see Alice. She had to be avoiding him. They walked the same road twice a week. She knew exactly what time of day he’d be on that road. To not cross paths even once in weeks couldn’t be a coincidence.

  The maddening woman was clearly mad at him, though over what he couldn’t say. They’d never had an argument in the months they’d known each other. They didn’t always agree on everything, but those little disagreements never ended in anything other than smiles and continued friendship.

  He hated that she had disappeared so entirely.

  Walking down the streets of Cavan on the way to the Kilchrest home, Isaac stopped in his tracks. In the window of a small shop amongst a display of trinkets and jewelry and such sat a delicate lady’s pin watch. Flowers of inlaid gold stood in contrast to the deep blue of the perfectly circular case. It hung on a bow-shaped pin leafed in matching gold.

  Alice would love this. And, he thought with a smile, she’d not need to ask him for the time every weekend. He didn’t know if Alice could read a watch, but he’d happily teach her how, especially if it meant seeing her again.

  He slipped inside the shop and inquired after the price. ’Twas steep, more than he’d ever spent on a gift before. He made a comfortable living but wasn’t rich by any means. The watch would set him back quite a bit.

  I’d not have enough left to give Miss Kilchrest a Christmas gift. Not having a holiday offering for the lady he’d spent months courting made no sense whatsoever. And yet he wavered. Alice would love the watch. He knew she would.

  He left the shop and the watch behind, but the question of Christmas gifts remained in his mind all the way to the Kilchrests’ home. Odd that he knew precisely the present that would bring a smile to Alice’s face, but couldn’t begin to guess what Miss Kilchrest would like. He’d given her flowers on a few occasions, but the offerings hadn’t made her gleeful by any means. He simply hadn’t stumbled upon what she loved.

  A stern-faced servant opened the Kilchrests’ door. Isaac was not terribly accustomed to calling at a home where the owners didn’t answer their own door.

  “I’m Isaac Dancy. The Kilchrests invited me to call.” He felt he ought to explain why he’d come, when, if truth be told, his position in the world was far more equal to that of a housekeeper than a master of the house.

  He was ushered inside. Isaac had never been to the Kilchrest’s home. He glanced about the entryway, with its fine furnishings and paintings and fresh-cut flowers. A great many flowers, in fact. ’Twas no wonder Miss Kilchrest hadn’t been impressed with his offerings. She had no need of more flowers.

  As he followed the housekeeper into the formal parlor, Isaac began to suspect that Miss Kilchrest was not in need of much of anything. The room was elegant, fancy even. His own home, in comparison, would seem run-down and plain to the point of being ugly. But that was one of the reasons he’d first began pursuing Miss Kilchrest. He had worked very hard for many years to make a success of his farm, despite the lingering shadow of The Great Hunger still clinging to the land. He wanted that bit of prosperity to be reflected in his home. He wanted his neighbors to receive a warm welcome there.

  Who could do that better than a lady who’d grown up in refinement, learning from the cradle how to be sociable and genteel? The idea was a good one. He’d certainly spent enough months thinking on it.

  Yet standing in the pristine parlor, his hat in his hands, Isaac felt very out of place. Elegance, he was discovering, was not always welcoming. Surely the version of refinement Miss Kilchrest would bring to his more modest home would be a bit less overwhelming.

  The object of his matrimonial ambitions stepped inside a moment later. She wore the same smile she always did, content and calm.

  “Welcome, Isaac.” She motioned him to a white settee.

  He brushed at his trousers, not entirely certain they didn’t yet bear dust from the road. White was not the most practical color for furnishings.

  Mr. Kilchrest came inside and crossed to where he still stood.

  “I hear you took in a good profit on your crop this year.”

  Isaac nodded. Prices had been good.

  “Good, good.” Mr. Kilchrest took up a seat nearby and opened a newspaper. That was to be the end of their conversation, it seemed.

  Isaac didn’t know if such behavior was normal for Mr. Kilchrest, or if he simply didn’t have anything to say to him. He knew many of Miss Kilchrest’s suitors had been invited to call on her family over the months, but he’d never been among their number. Where were the others? He didn’t think the invitations were generally kept to one man at a time.

  “Is there to be no one else?” he asked.

  Miss Kilchrest’s smile tightened a bit. “Not this time.”

  None of the others could come? Or none of the others would come? He didn’t know where the uncharitable thought came from. He dismissed it immediately.

  Isaac sat on the edge of the settee, still clutching his hat. A person was afraid to breathe in a room like that one. Everything looked breakable and clean as new. If any of the other men felt half as uncomfortable as he did in that moment, ’twas little wonder they weren’t coming around any longer.

  He attempted to match Miss Kilchrest’s small talk but never had been one for conversations that felt pointless. She spoke of fashions and the weather and stories she’d heard about people Isaac didn’t know. He tried to discuss improvements to his land or difficulties he had about his home, but she only put on that everyday smile of hers and nodded without comment.

  They’d not had enough opportunities to become acquainted. Isaac didn’t think he’d do a very good job of it in her house. He simply couldn’t feel at ease there.

  Though he’d onl
y been in the Kilchrests’ home a quarter of an hour, Isaac was ready to be on his way. But he hadn’t spent much time with Miss Kilchrest. He’d meant to further their connection, to make his case, to move closer to his goal of winning her regard.

  “I’d be honored if I could walk ya home from church tomorrow,” he said. An outdoor conversation would be far more enjoyable.

  “Of course.” “Of course you can”? Or, “Of course you would be honored to walk with me”?

  He stood and inched his way toward the door. “I’ll wait for ya outside the church, then.”

  She only smiled. He’d simply have to wait and see what happened the next morning.

  He was well on his way in a moment’s time. The finer houses gave way to smaller, plainer ones. For the first time all evening, Isaac felt like he could breathe.

  His feet carried him, not to his friend’s house where he’d be spending the night, but down the street where Alice’s grandparents lived. He wouldn’t actually call on her. Alice had made quite plain that she didn’t wish to see him. But he’d lost his footing at the Kilchrest home. He felt turned around and needed something familiar.

  The sounds of laughter and music met him as he walked. He followed the noise to the side garden of a house two or three doors removed from where Alice spent her weekends. He wandered over to the low stone wall.

  Quite a few people had gathered about, talking and playing music. There was chatting and dancing. Isaac smiled to see it. He’d attended many such gatherings as a child growing up in the countryside. His own neighbors gathered on occasion for traditional music and friendly chatter.

  Just as he made to find the gate so he might ask to join them, his eyes fell on an achingly familiar face. Alice, her mouth turned up in a grin as broad as any he’d seen her wear, was dancing about the grassy area with the same man Isaac had seen her with several weeks earlier. Billy, she’d said his name was, and a “dear friend.”

  A dear friend.

  A dear friend she was laughing with and dancing with. A dear friend she was smiling at. Isaac had enjoyed neither her laughter nor her smile in weeks. And he’d not ever danced with her.