A Bride Most Begrudging (9 page)

Tears coursed unchecked down her cheeks. As a youngster in her aunt and uncle’s home, she had spent many a candle-lit evening advancing her prowess for mathematics under Uncle Skelly’s watchful eye. Only he had understood her insatiable zeal for numbers, for he was filled with a passion for numbers equal to her own. Or, at least, he had been. With big dreams and high hopes, he had seen to the editing of
The Ladies’ Mathematical Diary
every year. Even now hundreds of submissions from mathematically talented women throughout Europe would be arriving at Skelly’s home.

She’d given her uncle an oath that she would maintain the publication until his return. But he wouldn’t be returning. She knew he’d never expect her to fulfill such a promise under the circumstances. Still, she
wanted
to carry out her obligation. In his honor. For his honor.

Swiping at her tears, she strengthened her resolve. As long as she had a breath in her body, she would not rest until those submissions were answered. She would use her gift for mathematics so Skelly’s dream and
Diary
lived on. No matter the cost, she would survive in this land until her father came for her. She must.

A squirrel scampered across the clearing just a stone’s throw from her feet, then froze. Scrutinizing her with his unblinking stare, he twitched his tail, then spun around and darted up a young oak. She turned her head, watching him leap from the oak to a larger, more mature tree.

The young oak once again drew her interest. Here was something new and strong that had survived in this land. It was about ten yards in height and had a wispy ivy plant clinging to its trunk. The plant looked nothing like English ivy but instead held dainty tear-shaped leaves.

She was fascinated with the regularity in which the twining plant encircled the column. If the oak’s diameter at the top was, say, six inches and at the bottom one foot and the ivy twisted around the tree so that each twist was approximately ten inches apart, what would the length of the ivy be?

She studied the tender tree and its delicate vine. A soft breeze rustled its leaves and prompted a bird to take wing. She must set a quill to the question as soon as she returned to the cottage.

Burrowing down into her grassy mattress, she unwrapped the unusual smelling bread Mary had slipped her. Taking a bite, she marveled at its taste and texture. She had become so accustomed to the hard, chalky biscuit-bread of the ship that she nearly bit her tongue, so easily did her teeth sink into the bread. And then, by heavens, she needn’t even chew, for it immediately melted.

Closing her eyes, she took great delight in the bread, in the sounds around her, and in the sweet smell of God’s green earth. As had been the pattern for most of her life during moments of such exquisite pleasure, numbers danced in her head.

She pictured the young oak and its vine twisting its way to the top. If the hypotenuse line that the ivy moves around in equals
z,
and
x
equals the distance from the vertex to the top of the first turn—

The sound of the breakfast bell ringing across the countryside brought her back to the present. Finishing off the delectable bread, she stood, reached for both the drying towel and bucket, and headed back to the cottage.

————

Breakfast actually melted in his mouth. There wasn’t a thing wrong with Grandma’s cooking, but Mary’s? Saints above, Drew had never tasted mush this good before.

“So,” Grandma began, “are you going to tell me where Constance came from?”

Drew and Josh exchanged a glance. Here it comes. He’d managed to avoid Grandma thus far, but that brief respite was over. He wiped his mouth with the napkin tied around his neck. “I won her.”

Grandma whipped her head around. “Won?”

He grimaced. She was so sensitive about playing cards. He pushed his mush back and forth within the confines of his trencher. Josh was going to be of no help. He and Mary, who together shared a trencher, ate with an unwarranted amount of concentration. Sally, sharing her trencher with

Grandma, was oblivious. Constance had not yet returned from the creek.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Won, how?” she asked.

Focusing on his trencher, he took a bite of mush, chewed, and swallowed. “Playing one-and-thirty.”

Grandma set her spoon down with meticulous care. “I hope you are jesting.”

He slowly shook his head from left to right. Grandma never wasted a moment of daylight. That she would stop eating in the midst of a meal did not bode well. Even Sally began to show an interest in the conversation.

Grandma dabbed at her mouth with her cloth. “What do you plan on doing with her?”

“I know not. She claims the captain kidnapped her.” He took a deep swallow of cider from his wooden noggin. “Says she’s the daughter of an earl.”

Grandma stilled. “What earl?”

“Greyhame or some such nonsense.” She lifted her brows. “And?”

“And, I told her I’d send a missive to her father. So I’m bound by my word to keep her for the time being.”

“For the time being? England is in the midst of a civil war. Have you any notion how long it could take for a missive to catch up with the earl? He’ll be moving from one confrontation to another. Why, the girl could be here for a year or more.”

“What would you have me do, Grandma?”

“What skills has she?”

Slipping a finger inside the neck of his shirt, he adjusted his collar.

“That remains to be seen.”

“She has no skills?”

He stiffened. “She stitches.”

“Every female stitches. What
skills
has she?”

Propping an elbow on the table, he rubbed his eyes. “She claims to have a talent for numbers.”

After a strained moment, he felt his ears and neck burn.

Grandma nodded. “You are being punished for dallying with the devil’s books.”

“Grandma,” he said with a sigh, “they are playing cards, not the devil’s books, and simply a form of amusement for me.”

She glowered at him. “Pray tell me, are you amused now?” He looked away. Constance walked in the door.

“Good morrow, everyone,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t it a glorious day? Your weather here is quite quaint.” She smiled as she hung her wet cloths on a peg.

Grandma untied her napkin. “I’m going to Nellie’s.”

Drew and Josh looked sharply at Grandma. “For a visit?” Drew asked.

“You’re going to Nellie’s for a visit?”

“Where’s a wooden plate for me?” Constance asked, searching the shelves.

Grandma scooted off the bench. “I’m going to Nellie’s to stay.”

Pulling off his napkin, Drew stood. “You cannot. Who will train Mary? Who will watch Constance?”

“ ‘The Lord is known by the judgment He executes; the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands.’ ”

“Card playing is not wicked!” Drew insisted.

“Psalm 9:16,” she responded.

“I know which psalm it is. David was talking about battles and victories and enemies,
not
card playing.”

“ ‘Woe unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in their own sight.’ ”

“By my faith, Grandma, you are testing me sorely. Now, sit down and stop this foolishness.”

Grandma took two steps forward. “You will watch your tongue, young man. I agreed to train Mary, not some useless woman you acquired by wicked means.”

She held up her hands, stopping his denial. “Nay. Talk no more. Nellie’s babe is due any day now. She has need of me, and from the looks of this morning’s fare, Mary requires no assistance. I am away.”

“Grandma, please.”

The tension was palpable, causing them all to jump at the pounding on the wooden door. “O’Connor? Come! We have need of your presence.”

Drew scowled at the door, then looked at Josh.

Shrugging, Josh rose from the table.

Outside, four of the settlement’s most influential men gathered. Drew had known them his entire life—all except for their leader, Theodore Hopkin. The governor, Sir William Berkeley, had left last month for a year’s excursion to England. The Crown had sent Hopkin as his temporary replacement.

Well, at least now Drew wouldn’t have to make a trip to the governor’s plantation. Constance could go ahead and have her audience with him while he was here.

A fifth man stood back and to the side. It was Jonathan Emmett, the man who’d lost Constance last night in their game of one-and-thirty.

Sparing barely a glance for him, Drew looked at the others. “Is there trouble?”

Governor Hopkin furrowed his bushy gray eyebrows. “Merely a concern or two. I’m sure you can put it to rights.”

Josh stepped out beside Drew. Sunlight streamed down on their secluded homestead. Oak, pine, hickory, and tulip trees towered behind the councilmen like mounted soldiers reinforcing their leaders. What Drew used to take comfort in beholding now cast a menacing shadow about them.

Hopkin cleared his throat. “Emmett, here, holds some strong accusations against you.”

Drew allowed his gaze to slide past Hopkin and roam over those more familiar to him. Morden, a bear of a man, had a heart in proportion to the rest of his body—massive, generous, and malleable. Unfortunately, the preacher was nothing more than a figurehead on this council and rarely offered an opinion on anything.

Kaufman, on the other hand, held a legitimate position but reminded Drew of a thick candle with two eyes and a hook nose—fairly solid looking, but continually melting when things heated up.

Both avoided his scrutiny, while Colonel Tucker looked him square in the eye. It pleased Drew to have him here. The military man was well respected and had been particularly close to Drew’s father. If mischief brewed, Tucker would bank the fire.

Hopkin pulled the waistband of his breeches up around the hill of flesh surrounding his gut. “Emmett says you succumbed to drunkenness, assaulted him, and spirited his bride away.”

Drew leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “I joined in the festivities at the meetinghouse. During the course of the day, Emmett made a wager with his bride. I won the wager and have the receipt to prove it.”

“He cheated!” Emmett barked.

Drew stood straighter. “I struck Emmett for that comment yesterday.

It is an untruth, and many were there to witness it.” Hopkin nodded. “May I see the receipt?”

Josh reentered the cabin to collect the voucher. Tucker’s serene gaze met Drew’s. Drew relaxed. Everything would be all right.

Returning, Josh handed the piece of parchment to the governor. Hopkin perused the document, then restored it to Drew. “All appears to be in order.”

Emmett blustered, then quieted in the censure of the other council members.

Drew folded the document and tucked it inside his belt. “Care you to share some cider with us? We were just breaking our fast.”

Hopkin again pulled up his slipping breeches. “Actually, we’ve a bit more business.”

Drew frowned. A scattering of chickens clucked nervously about the clearing, mirroring his confusion.

Grandma stepped out of the cottage, pouch in hand. She tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Governor. Councilmen.” Looking at Emmett, she simply snorted.

“Mistress Lining,” Hopkin said. “What are you about this fine day?”

“It’s Nellie’s time,” she answered. “I’m off to tend to her for as long as she has need of me.”

“You are away at this moment?” he asked, looking at her bundle.

The morning’s light blazed down into her eyes. She squinted over at Hopkin. “I am.”

Drew stiffened. “I will escort you, Grandma, if you will but wait until our business here is concluded.”

“No need. You have the indentured men servants to fetch down at the wharf. Besides, I’m of a mind for some peace and quiet.” She transferred her pouch of belongings from one arm to the other. “Good day, sirs.”

Hopkin tipped his hat. “Good day, Mistress. Our prayers will be with your Nellie.”

Looking at Josh, Drew tilted his head toward Grandma. Josh reached for her pouch.

She swatted his hand. “Cannot an old woman get some peace when she wants it?”

Josh lifted his brows and turned back to Drew. She must be sorely vexed to scold them in front of the others. Still, he should have expected it. He knew his late grandfather had squandered away his fortune with cards, forcing Grandma and their only daughter to come to the colonies. Though neither Grandma nor his mother had ever bemoaned their life here, Grandma always lost her perspective where cards were concerned. With an almost imperceptible lifting of his shoulders, he motioned Josh to let her go.

She wasted no time in presenting them with her back. “Don’t know what all the uproar’s about,” she muttered, setting off down the path. “I’m not in my grave and don’t plan to be anytime soon. If I wish to walk to Nellie’s by myself, then so be it.”

Listening to her litany, Drew felt a pang of remorse. He waited until her voice drifted off on the breeze before turning his attention back to Hopkin and the council, who were busy murmuring amongst themselves. He glanced at Josh, who shrugged in a gesture of bafflement.

“O’Connor?” Hopkin cleared his throat. “Seems the situation is more serious than we realized. ’Tis a sign from God that we arrived when we did.”

A sign from God, indeed. Drew crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back against the cottage’s frame.

“How many women have you living under your roof?” Hopkin asked.

Drew adjusted himself more comfortably against the cottage. “At the moment, two.”

“I see,” he said through pursed lips. “And when are you and your brother planning to marry them?”

Drew stilled, as did Josh. “They’re servants,” Drew replied.

A babble of voices broke out amongst the council. Emmett’s scrawny frame bristled. Hopkin held up his hands for silence. “These, uh,
servants,
they are of breeding age?”

Drew narrowed his eyes a margin or two. “They are.”

Hopkin yanked down on his doublet. “And they are unmarried?”

Uncrossing his arms, Drew pulled slowly away from the cottage.

“What are you getting at?”

Hopkin twisted his breeches up to his midriff. “And they are residing in this dwelling with you, Joshua, and your baby sister?”