Washburn grasped her hands and chuckled. “My friends think I’m mad to make an ocean voyage so soon after the last one, but I’ve enjoyed nearly every minute of it. We had a couple of rough days when poor Catherine kept to her cabin, but for the most part, considering the time of year, it was not an uncomfortable voyage.” As he spoke, Washburn looked at Molly from head to toe. “My dear, you look marvelous. You’ve made me so happy, because you’ve made Peter happy.”
Molly’s face flushed, but she was able to return his delighted smile. “Thank you.”
Peter led the woman around in front of the team while solicitously holding her arm. When they reached Molly and the earl, he stopped. “Mother, this is Molly.”
Molly hesitated for only an instant. In Mrs. Stark’s eyes she saw the same uncertainty she felt. She smiled. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Peter’s mother held out her arms, and Molly hugged her close.
“Dear girl,” Mrs. Stark said in her ear. “This is a happy day indeed.”
“Come in!” Molly stepped back, laughing. “Mum and Papa and the rest are eager to meet you, but they’ve let me have this first moment with you all to myself. Now I get to share you.”
She led the guests inside. After the introductions to her parents and siblings, Nathan slipped out to help Peter with the horses. Mum welcomed the guests into her small but spotless parlor. Grandpa Anson was waiting there, and he rose.
“Mrs. Stark, this is my grandfather, Anson Orland.”
Grandpa stepped forward eagerly with tears in his eyes. “You look like Mary.”
Mrs. Stark’s eyes misted as she grasped his hand. “So you are my uncle Anson who took my mother’s part so gallantly. At last I get to meet you.” She stepped closer and kissed him soundly on the cheek. “Thank you so much, dear uncle.”
Anson flushed to his hairline but smiled on her, with satisfaction smoothing his face. “I’m so very, very pleased to meet you.” He looked past her then and settled his gaze on the earl. “We meet again, sir.”
Molly was always a bit chagrined that her grandfather refused to call Washburn “my lord,” but the earl seemed to understand his stubbornness and take it in good grace.
Washburn laughed and shook Grandpa’s hand. “It does me good to see you looking so well.”
“What, you thought I was so doddery that I wouldn’t make it through another island winter?” Anson offered the earl his comfortable chair, but Washburn declined, taking one of the straight chairs Joe brought in from the kitchen.
“Our little home is crowded but happy,” Mum said. “Please sit here, Mrs. Stark.” She gestured toward her own rocker.
“Thank you. But you must call me Catherine.”
“And I am Eliza.”
The two mothers sat down and began to chat about their children as though they had known each other for many years.
Molly’s father’s injury had taken its time in healing, and he had used his canes all winter, hobbling about the farm, careful not to take another fall. He sat down near the earl and Grandpa and inquired after the Washburn family.
“Those that matter most to me now are here,” the earl said with a smile. “I haven’t much family, really.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Grandpa said.
The earl shrugged. “My wife died after we’d been married but two years, and my only child died with her. It was a long time ago, but I’ve never remarried. So my estate and title will pass to my cousin when I’m gone. I don’t mind—he’ll be good at it.”
“Surely it’s not too late for you to marry and produce an heir,” Grandpa said.
Washburn waved his hand in dismissal. “I fear it is. I loved and lost, you see, in my youth, and I’ve never felt inclined to pursue marriage again. A pity in a way…but since I can’t leave my worldly goods to Peter, I’ve decided to make the best of it and help him all I can while the estate is still mine.”
Peter, across the room, was listening to something Molly’s mother said and didn’t hear the earl’s statement, but Molly took note of it and his wistful look as the earl’s gaze rested on the young man. “So how is His Royal Highness doing?” Papa asked with a grimace.
“What, Bertie?” Washburn asked. “He’s getting on all right, I guess. He’d like to have a military career, but they won’t let him because he’s heir to the throne. He goes and takes part in training and exercises, but they won’t let him near a battlefield, you can be sure of that.”
Grandpa nodded. “According to the papers here, he earned a lot of diplomatic cachet during his tour over here.”
“That’s true. And I must say, he was on his best behavior after we left here. The model representative of the Crown, if I do say so.” Washburn chuckled. “I think General Bruce had a little man-to-man chat with him. Anyway, I never saw him misbehave again. He had a grand time down in the States. President Buchanan showed him a good time.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Molly said. “Everyone here thought he was so charming—I could hardly believe the way he treated me that night.”
“Most unfortunate, my dear.” Washburn shook his head. “I’m so sorry it happened.”
“But if it hadn’t, Peter wouldn’t have stayed around,” Grandpa said. “Then where would our Molly be? Most likely moping around and pining for a certain English gentleman.”
They all laughed.
“The prince is back at Oxford now,” Washburn said. “Not the best scholar, or so I’ve heard tell…and there was a little incident with an actress, so perhaps he’s cutting up again. They say he’ll go to Germany in the fall with his regiment, to observe military maneuvers. And Prince Albert wants him to go to Cambridge after that, I think. Seems the lad has a penchant for history, and the best professor is at Trinity College. Or maybe Albert just wants to change his venue and get his son away from his Oxford friends. I don’t know.”
“Well, the boy’s sowing his oats while his mother rules the empire,” Papa said. “That can be boring, waiting around for the older generation to vacate the place for you.” He caught himself and grimaced. “Begging your pardon, my lord.”
“Think nothing of it. That sort of thing does happen. I only wish my father had stayed on this earth longer. But you can be sure no whiff of scandal during the Canadian tour reached Queen Victoria’s ears.”
Peter came over and sat down beside his uncle.
“Are you staying at the farm with Peter?” Grandpa asked the earl.
“No, I shall be comfortable at the Wellington in town. I’m afraid I’ve grown used to the amenities. Catherine is moving right out to the farm immediately, though. I shall stay a couple of weeks and make sure she’s well settled before I leave her.”
“Well, cousin,” Papa called to Catherine, “we all hope you’ll like it here and stay on the island.”
Catherine smiled and darted a glance at Molly. “I still can hardly believe Peter and Molly have invited me to live with them. Peter and I struggled to make a go of it for years in England, but he is confident he’ll be able to establish the farm this year and make a good crop of potatoes.”
Papa nodded. “You’ll see. In a month, all this snow will be gone and he’ll be out harrowing his fields. That’s a good farm Peter has leased.”
“Yes,” Grandpa said. “It’s quite a choice spot—and less than two miles from here.”
“We were discussing the wedding,” Mum said. “I assume you young people are still planning on Saturday.”
Molly looked at Peter.
“Of course,” he said. “We’ve no reason to delay any longer now that Mother and Uncle Edwin are here, have we, Molly?”
She smiled up at him. “No reason at all.”
A few minutes later, Molly rose to help her mother fix tea for the guests, and Peter followed them to the kitchen.
“I’d be happy to help you serve, Mrs. Orland, but then I thought perhaps I’d snatch Molly away for a minute.”
“Step right on out into the dairy if you want,�
�� Mum said. “Just don’t linger too long or David will send one of the boys after you.”
Peter laughed. “Just for a moment, Molly?”
Molly gladly put on her shawl again and led him out into the milk room. “Your mother is a dear, but I knew she would be.”
Peter closed the door firmly and held out his arms to her. Molly melted into his embrace. Peter kissed her and then held her against his chest, stroking her hair.
“Darling, I couldn’t wait to tell you. Uncle Edwin is giving us the price of the farm.”
“What?” Molly pulled away and studied his deep brown eyes. “Giving us…” She clamped her lips together.
“You know he questioned me closely in his letters about the soil and the buildings. When I picked him and Mother up at the pier, one of the first things he asked me was whether I still felt the farm I’m leasing was the one I’d like to own. I told him yes and that in ten years we should own it. He said, ‘Sooner than that, I hope, lad.’ The money will be our wedding gift. If you’ve no objection, that is.”
Molly let out her pent-up breath. “Why would I object? Oh, Peter! It seems…too easy.”
He laughed. “I know. Eight months ago, I thought I was facing the gallows. And now I have you, and Mother’s safely here too, and we’ll have our own farm. It’s more than I ever thought to see in my lifetime.” He ran his finger down her cheek. “And you’re certain you don’t mind Mother living with us?”
“You’ve asked me that a hundred times. I don’t mind.”
He kissed her lightly. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.” He pulled her close and kissed her again.
A moment later, Molly reluctantly eased away from him. “We’d best go in, or Joe will be out here pestering us.”
“Brothers,” he said. “That’s another thing God has given me. And a sister too. I love your family.”
She chuckled. “I love your family too. It’s a bit odd, since I spent so many years hating the Washburn clan.”
“Well, I’m as much an Orland as I am a Washburn, with a generous helping of Stark thrown in too. Don’t forget that.”
“No, I shan’t. I wish I could have met your father. But I’ll take His Lordship as a stand-in.”
The kitchen door opened, and Joe peeked out into the dim milk room. “Mum says enough sparking, and the tea is ready.”
“Does she now?” Peter grinned at Molly and crooked his elbow. “May I escort you in, Almost-Mrs.-Stark?”
The church bells rang out as the Orland family’s wagon drew up before the church in Charlottetown on Saturday afternoon. Peter strode forward to meet them. A ten-year-old boy trotted at his side.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Orland.” Peter nodded to Anson as well. “Sir. This is Milton’s brother. He’ll watch the horses while we’re inside.”
Nathan was already helping Molly from her perch on the wagon seat beside her mother while Joe and Katie scrambled out of the back. Peter gazed at Molly. His heart swelled, and he found it difficult to breathe. She’d arrived in the wagon with her dress swathed beneath a travel robe, but now she’d thrown that off and the frothy layers of her gown dazzled him. A veil of flimsy netting draped over her golden hair.
The dress looked the same…but different somehow. Gazing at it, Peter realized she had edged the bodice and sleeves with the fine lace his uncle had ordered be sent over from Honiton, in Belgium. The aristocratic brides of England would have no other, and though Molly wouldn’t have cared, the earl would take delight in seeing her wear it today.
“That’s the gown you wore at the ball last summer, isn’t it?” he asked.
Molly smiled gently. “Yes, it is. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? When I saw you in it that night, I knew you were the most beautiful woman in the room—on the whole island.” He stepped forward and took her hands in his. “My mother and uncle are waiting in the church. Milton’s here, too, to stand up with me.” The footman had become his close friend during the weeks Peter had boarded with Milton’s family last fall.
Molly’s blue eyes shone up at him. “I’m so glad your mother and Lord Washburn came.”
“Yes.” Peter’s contentment knew several levels—they’d gone all winter with only a vague wedding date in mind. With the money given him by the earl at the jail, he’d leased the small farm with a snug house and a small barn. He hoped to make a good crop this summer. With Molly’s encouragement, he’d written to invite his mother to share the home he’d found on Prince Edward Island.
Things had taken a turn when, after New Year’s, his mother’s letter had arrived saying that she would come and her half-brother would escort her and see her safely settled. Molly and Peter had agreed: when the two special guests arrived from England, they would be married. If the journey had been delayed, so would this splendid day. But now the ship had arrived and Peter’s mother was ensconced in her room at the farm, while the earl took temporary rooms at the Wellington Hotel in Charlottetown.
“Look, Peter!” Katie crowded close and tugged at his sleeve. “I’ve a new dress for your wedding.”
He surveyed her pink sprigged muslin dress and grinned at her. “You look wonderful, and so grown up.” He’d have reached for the nearest pigtail, but they’d been replaced by a coronet of braids wound close around Katie’s head…no doubt modeled after Molly’s coiffure.
Molly’s friend Allison hurried out of the church, holding the skirt of her blue gown just above her shoes.
She embraced Molly. “You’re a beautiful bride! I think everyone is here now.”
Peter glanced toward Molly’s parents and grandfather. “Shall we go inside?”
“You go on and take Liza in,” David said. “I believe I’m supposed to wait out here with the bride.”
Peter nodded and stepped toward Mrs. Orland. He offered his arm, and she slipped her hand inside his elbow. Grandpa Anson and the two boys went inside. Peter sneaked a final glance at Molly in that magnificent white gown with blue trim. Her smile was breathtaking.
Inside, he took Molly’s mother to the front pew. She paused to speak to his own mother. With tears in their eyes, the two women embraced.
“Such a blessed day,” Mrs. Orland murmured. Peter seated her in the box pew across the aisle from his mother and Washburn. He took his place at the front of the church with Milton and the minister. Milton looked good in his new suit, a somber contrast to his usual bright livery.
Molly’s grandfather and her two brothers sat next to Mrs. Orland and beamed at him. Peter had claimed Molly’s brothers as his own and been enthusiastically welcomed by them into the family. He intended to enjoy Nathan and Joe to the hilt.
As the organist played Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” Katie entered the church and walked slowly down the aisle, grinning at the family and small group of friends gathered. Her pink dress swished as she walked, and she let out a giggle as her gaze met Peter’s. He winked at her and noticed his mother’s smile. Allison came next, in her wide-skirted blue gown. Though not as pretty as Molly, she still cut an elegant figure in her unaccustomed finery, and Peter sensed Milton’s appreciation as they watched her. Milton had confided recently that he’d begun calling at the Johnsons’ farm on his half day off each week. Allison took up a spot opposite the footman, and all eyes turned to the door of the church.
Molly and her father walked slowly down the aisle. David still limped, but today he had abandoned his canes and stood upright, his chin high, his face glowing with pride as he brought Molly down to the altar. He stood beside her until the minister gave him his cue, when he placed Molly’s hand in Peter’s and sat down with his wife and the boys.
“Dearly beloved,” the minister intoned.
Peter’s eyes misted so that he could barely see Molly’s radiant smile.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Though the prince for whom Prince Edward Island was named never set foot on it, his grandson was the first member of the British royal family to
visit there. In 1860, Queen Victoria sent her oldest son, Prince Albert Edward, then Prince of Wales, on a “goodwill” tour of British North America (now Canada) and the United States. Prince “Bertie,” who later became King Edward VII, traveled during the summer and fall of the year, making a two-day stop on Prince Edward Island in August.
His journey was tightly scheduled, and the eighteen-year-old prince performed many official duties along the way, such as opening Victoria Bridge in Montreal and setting the cornerstone for the parliament building in Ottawa. All accounts report that Bertie was on his best behavior throughout the tour and drew much praise and admiration from the public. His misbehavior in my story is completely fictional. However, accounts of his life laid enough factual background to make it believable. He was later known as a womanizer and, during his long wait to take the throne, came to symbolize the fashionable, leisured aristocracy.
Even as a young man, his father (Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert) had to take Bertie to task several times for his escapades. Both at school and while away at military training, he engaged in incidents that brought his parents’ displeasure and might foreshadow just such an event as I’ve presented in this book. So I hope any historical purists will forgive me for making the prince misbehave when there was no indication that he did so on the tour. I’m sure his other antics made up for it.
In reading newspaper accounts from the time and books and articles about the royal tour of 1860, I was caught up in the pageantry and the enthusiasm of the people in seeing their prince for the first time. Bertie was perceived as a handsome and energetic young man who cared about his subjects. It pained me to cast a dark shadow over that image, but not so much as to make me change my story.
I’ve tried to stick to the facts concerning his tour. The levee and ball took place as described. His ride into the countryside, stopping at a local farm and taking a glass of ale, entertainments, official appearances, shooting party, and other activities were squeezed into his forty-eight hours on Prince Edward Island.
Love Finds You in Prince Edward Island Page 25
