She followed the others outside, where a spotted sandpiper was perched on the stone bench near the birch grove. Penelope began to tiptoe toward it with her hand outstretched, as if to make friends.
Grateful for the distraction, Madeline watched her, then felt John’s gaze upon her face.
“That bird,” he said, “will make a mess on your bench. She doesn’t feed them, does she? That’ll only bring more of them around.”
Madeline kept her gaze fixed on Penelope, whose shoulders slumped in disappointment when the tiny bird flew away.
“I believe she enjoys the music they make,” Madeline told him.
He shrugged at that and followed Madeline, who led the way up the hill, on a footpath through the trees. Along the way, Penelope skipped ahead, stopping in a dusty clearing to pick fragrant, bright yellow chamomile along the edge of the wood.
John talked about how much trouble he was having finding a place to live, and Madeline listened graciously to every word. He told her about all the people he had met at the fort the past week, and the farmers he had met on his quest for good land. He spoke of the farms and the livestock and the crops, told her about his plans and ambitions.
He was a handsome young man, she decided, noticing the way his tawny hair curled around his face in the front. In the back it was tied in a neat queue. Madeline supposed that if there were more young, unmarried women in Cumberland, they would probably be fighting over him.
Madeline ducked under the branches of some birch saplings, then pointed at a towering old oak. “There’s the swing.”
Penelope ran and hopped on. John hurried to catch up, and she laughed when he spun the swing around, then let go. Penelope twirled in dizzying circles, her skirts flapping in the breeze.
Madeline leaned against the thick tree trunk, its bark covered in lichen and small patches of green moss, and felt the cool air caress her cheeks. She watched John pushing Penelope on the swing and wondered about him.
Was this visit the beginning of a courtship, or was he just being neighborly? Unfortunately, she didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing. No young man had ever come to call on her in Yorkshire. Not even once.
John didn’t know about her past, of course. So here he was.
Would it matter, she wondered? If he knew, would he still come? She had heard that single women were scarce commodities here in Cumberland, so perhaps the men would be less choosy and more willing to settle for less. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.
Oh, what a horrible, horrible insult. To both herself and John. She chided herself for it. John was a handsome young man, a very good catch. He was not a “beggar,” and she was not a batch of useless, second-rate goods, even if she was invisible to most men.
She wondered further, if John decided to come calling again after today, and again after that, would she ever tell him what had happened? How would he react? Would he be as understanding and supportive as Adam had been?
You’re in my care now, and I would defend your honor to the death if I had to. I only wish I had known you then…I would have been your champion.
A jovial screech from Penelope pulled Madeline from her thoughts, and she stepped away from the towering oak.
“Perhaps we should go back,” John suggested. “Our hour’s up. I wouldn’t want to displease Mr. Coates on my first day.”
My first day.So he did plan to come again.
Madeline waited for Penelope to hop off the swing and lead the way down the hill, then tried to figure out exactly how she felt about a return visit from John Metcalf.
Agnes was married in a private ceremony in Adam’s home, followed by a wedding breakfast of blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, poached salmon, maple-pecan scones and fresh apple spice cake for dessert.
Shortly after noon, she drove off with her new husband and left Madeline behind, in full charge of the household. Madeline immediately settled into her role, cooking all the meals for the family, helping Mary care for the baby and spending time with the children.
One afternoon the following week, Madeline completed her midday chores early and decided to reward herself with a short walk along the road that overlooked the great marsh. Clouds were thick and heavy overhead and the ground was still damp from a morning rain. In the distance, a thick fog encased the forested ridge on the other side of the marsh, and Madeline could smell the salty tang of the sea.
She’d had no time to herself lately, she realized as she watched the toes of her boots peek out from under her skirts with each long stride.
Not that she was complaining. Quite the contrary. The truth was, she enjoyed it. She and Penelope and Charlie had been studying multiplication, and yesterday they decided to hold a spelling bee Tuesday evening after supper as a special entertainment for Adam, who had been away the past few days and would be returning this afternoon.
Adam had traveled to Halifax to meet Nova Scotia’s new lieutenant-governor, the Viscount Blackthorne, and speak with him about establishing a committee to maintain the marshlands. Lord Blackthorne had just arrived from England a month ago, and eager to be an auspicious representative for King George, was familiarizing himself with the colony and addressing land issues.
Adam worried that some of the absentee farmers in Cumberland were neglecting their sections of the marsh, and that their negligence could affect all of the farmers if anything unpredictable occurred.
Adam believed that Lord Blackthorne might be receptive to his concerns, for it was a well-known fact that the aging aristocrat had relations in Yorkshire, and for that reason, seemed genuinely interested in Cumberland and its success. He’d been quoted as saying that “Yorkshire farmers were the best around.”
Madeline walked down the steep ridge to the lowlands, where Adam had taken her riding a few weeks ago.
