Enduring Love (13 page)

The entire household welcomed Hannah and Thomas. Even Dalton Keen, the houseman, made sure Hannah felt comfortable, making time for conversation and seeing that her needs were attended to. Gwen teased Hannah, saying Dalton must fancy her. Hannah knew it was nonsense. She couldn’t imagine Dalton being interested in anyone in that way. He was far too reserved and much too practical for something as unreasonable as love. And besides, Hannah always thought he and Mrs. Goudy would make a fine pair.

Two weeks passed, and Hannah found herself looking for John, expecting him to come for a visit, to spend an afternoon with Thomas. It was time. She was almost certain Thomas would take kindly to seeing him.

When he didn’t come the first week, she told herself John must be busy, but she’d heard Margaret had moved into the house and wondered if that was why he’d stayed away. After the second week, she’d started to wonder if he’d put both her and Thomas out of his life, although she couldn’t imagine him setting Thomas aside in such a fashion. However, she’d seen the kind of influence a woman could have over a man. Perhaps Margaret had convinced him they needed to begin again without any prior encumbrances.

When Lydia told her that John had continued to sleep in the barn, Hannah knew she ought to hope for good things between him and Margaret, and yet she couldn’t keep from feeling a measure of satisfaction and hope. Perhaps he would come to see Thomas soon.

Needing to know more about John, she sought out Perry one afternoon. She stepped into the shop. Thomas stood at the workbench and watched closely while Perry created a tack claw.

“Thomas, it’s time for lunch.” Hannah approached the two of them.

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

“Can I come back after?”

“No. You didn’t do your studies this morning. And I’ll not have you growing up uneducated and illiterate.”

“I won’t. I already know how to read quite well.”

“True.” Hannah smiled. “But you’ll still do your schoolwork.” She rested a hand on his back. “I made you a sandwich and there’s cake too, sent over by Mrs. Goudy.”

“Ye don’t want to miss out on her cake. She makes the best.” Perry grinned.

“All right, then,” Thomas said. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“Is he being a bother to you?” Hannah asked Perry.

“Not at all. He’s a fine lad. And a good helper.”

Hannah gazed at Thomas, trying to look stern, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. “You can come tomorrow, but not until you’ve finished your work.”

“I’ll be here by noon,” he said and ran out of the shop.

Hannah watched him go, thankful for time alone with Perry. She stood and watched quietly, hoping he might say something about John. When he didn’t, she asked as casually as possible, “Have you heard anything of John? Is he well?”

“Haven’t seen him in some days.” Perry’s voice sounded sharp. He gave Hannah a questioning look. “Don’t know how ye do it. Ye seem at peace with all this.”

“I daresay, I’m not happy about it at all. But God has blessed me with good friends. And he sustains me and offers me peace.”

Perry nodded. “I could do with a bit of yer peace. I’d like to box John’s ears, letting ye go like that.”

“He didn’t let me go. I chose to leave. It was the only way. Please don’t be hard on him. None of this is his fault. He had no recourse. An honorable man does the right thing even when it’s painful.”

“Well, he ought to at least take heed to his son.”

“I’m sure he has good cause for his delay. He’ll come soon.” Hannah turned her attention to Perry’s work. “I pray he finds happiness with Margaret.” The words were out without thought, and Hannah was shocked to realize she meant them.

“Ye’ve more mercy than me. I thought he’d figure a way to divorce her.”

“Do you think that would be honorable? Could you let go of Gwen so easily?”

“It’s not the same thing. I love her. There’s no finer wife.”

“It is the same—marriage is marriage. Most people don’t have the kind of love you have with Gwen or that John and I had. And remember, John once loved Margaret. Perhaps they’ll rediscover it. But whether they do or not, John is a good man and will do the honorable thing.”

“I know you’re right. He’s a fine chap. I ought to go and see him. Figure he could use a friend ’bout now.”

“I’m sure he could.” Hannah moved toward the door. “It would be good of you to speak to him. But I do hope he finds his way here, soon. Thomas hasn’t said anything to me, but I know he’s waiting for him.”

She stepped out of the door and headed for the cabin. There was something she needed to take care of. It was time to speak with the reverend to make certain her marriage had been dissolved.

Hannah seated herself on the reverend’s settee and clasped her hands in her lap. She’d sat in this same spot when she and John had come, hoping for a way to save their marriage. Now she was here to make certain it was ended.

“Can I get you some refreshment?” the reverend asked, brushing a thin strand of gray hair off his forehead.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

The reverend was a small man, and when he settled into his chair, the cushion barely gave way. He sat back and threw one leg over the other. “What can I do for you, Hannah?”

The ticking of a clock sounded loud in the quiet room. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure just what to say. Doing her best to focus on what was at hand, she said, “As you know, John and I are no longer living together. I’m working at the Athertons’. John is at the farm and Margaret’s moved into the house.”

The reverend nodded sympathetically. “I heard. I’ve missed seeing him on Sundays but can appreciate his discomfort and yours. I hope he hasn’t forsaken his faith.”

“Oh no. He never would.”

The reverend smiled. “I thought not.”

Hannah had noticed John’s absences. Each Sunday she looked for him, longing to see him, if only from a distance.

She turned her mind back to the present. “I was thinking it might be necessary to file for a dissolution to our marriage. John and Margaret belong together, and I don’t wish to be a hindrance to their reconciliation.” Hannah tried to keep her tone practical, hoping it would soften the harsh realities.

“I understand your concern. But I doubt you need to do anything. Your marriage vows were invalid.” He pressed the palms of his hands together and leaned forward. “But just to make certain, I’ll check with the governor and file any necessary papers.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you and for Thomas? This must be a trying time for you both.”

“It is. But we’re well. The Athertons are kind and we’ve good friends there. Thomas and Perry Littrell have become quite good chums. And given time, I’m sure John and Thomas will again share the bond of father and son.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” The reverend sat back. “And you, Hannah, what can I do for you?”

The tenderness in the minister’s voice touched a place in Hannah’s heart that she’d managed to hold in check . . . until that moment. Tears washed into her eyes. Barely able to speak, she said, “Pray for me . . . and for John. I’m sure he feels as displaced as I.” She wondered if she dare tell him about the baby. She’d missed two menses and was certain now that she carried John’s child.

“Might I ask that you . . . also pray . . . for the child I carry, Reverend?”

10

While listening to the sounds of a cool September rain, Hannah used a feather duster to reach the top of the parlor draperies. She liked the rain; it reminded her of London.

With the valance dust free, she stopped and gazed through the misted window at the sodden outdoors. A longing for home welled up inside, taking Hannah by surprise. It had been a long while since England felt like home. The idea of returning tempted her.

Hannah knew it was heaviness of heart that had set her off balance. She dismissed the appeal, reminding herself of London’s deplorable conditions. Parramatta was home now.

Still, memories of her mother’s seamstress shop, the coziness of their cottage, and the warmth of her mum’s devotion tugged at her. They had spent many cheery evenings together tucked snugly inside their little house.

The hours spent side by side working on women’s gowns had always given Hannah a feeling of contentment. She missed the days of creating fine dresses. Although she enjoyed making clothes for the women locked in New South Wale’s prisons, it wasn’t the same as working alongside her mother and creating gowns for the upper class. They’d worked with the finest fabrics, and Caroline Talbot’s skills had been renowned in London.

Hannah returned to her dusting, but her mind moved to John. She couldn’t keep from thinking about him and the life they once had. They’d also spent quiet evenings together. Sometimes they would both read or he’d work on some tool or other while she sewed.

John.
A familiar throb of pain tightened in her chest and moved into her throat as Hannah held back tears.
Stop that
now. It will do no good to think about him. He’s nearly as far
from me as Mum is. And there’s nothing to be done about it.
She dusted more vigorously.

John had gone on with his life. She must do the same.

Someone cleared their throat, startling Hannah. She whirled about and found Dalton standing just inside the parlor doorway. “You’ve caught me woolgathering,” she said, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

“We all do that from time to time.” He made an attempt at a smile and moved to the window and looked out. “The world’s turned a bit soggy.”

“I like the rain. It makes everything smell good. And with any luck, it will turn the grasses green again.”

“Not likely, not this time of year.” Dalton stood there like a slender tree, still in the wind. He looked as if he would say more.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Hannah finally asked.

He clasped his hands behind his back and again cleared his throat. “I would like to have a word with you.”

Hannah waited, but instead of speaking, Dalton looked from her to the window and then back at her.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” He compressed his lips, dimpling his hollow cheeks. “But there is something that has been troubling me, and I’ve been trying to decide whether I ought to mention it or not. I’ve decided you should know.”

“What is it?”

“It has to do with the other Mrs. Bradshaw.”

Hannah’s interest piqued. “Margaret?”
What can Dalton
have to tell me about her?
“Is she unwell?”

“No. Not that I’ve heard, anyway.”

Thinking Dalton’s behavior a bit peculiar, Hannah waited for him to continue.

“There’s been a bit of gossip about her.” He moved to the hearth and then turned to face Hannah. “Mind you, it’s nothing more than a rumor . . . but . . . it might be of some importance.”

She wished he’d simply say whatever was on his mind. She prompted him with a “Yes?”

The solemn houseman leveled pale blue eyes on Hannah. “It seems there’s some speculation . . . there’s word that she may not be telling the entire truth about why she is in Parramatta.”

“What reason could there be, other than the one she stated?”

“I can’t say, but—”

“She’s John’s wife. That’s clear. What motive could she have had to travel all this distance, if not to reconcile? She wouldn’t come without just cause.” Hannah couldn’t imagine any other purpose powerful enough to compel her to take such a long and dangerous journey.

“That’s true. But I’ve heard she can be bad tempered when provoked.”

“So can we all, given circumstances. There must be more than that to the rumors.”

“It seems she was ill-tempered with a maid at the boardinghouse, on more than one occasion.” Dalton’s eyebrows steepled.

“Perhaps it is the maid who brought about the displeasure,” Hannah said gently. “A flash of temper can be had by anyone when enduring poor service.”

“I can’t imagine you ever behaving in such a manner, even if provoked.”

“I’ve been known to let my frustrations get the better of me.” Hannah’s mind flared with shame, remembering her lack of forbearance with Thomas when he’d first come to live with her and John.

She stared out the window at the falling rain. “A bit of a bad mood is hardly cause to mistrust a person. I should hope people would be more tolerant of
my
shortcomings. And there seems little cause for gossip over something this trivial.”

“True enough.” Dalton folded his long arms over his chest. “There have also been rumors of a gentleman caller. He’s been seen in her company more than once.”

Hannah remembered seeing her with a man months before when she’d been in town. Dalton was not given to gossip and rarely said much of anything. Why would he speak now?

“I appreciate your concern, but I’d hate to charge someone unfairly. Perhaps the man in question was a business acquaintance or someone else of no consequence. Have you heard anything substantial that would discredit Mrs. Bradshaw?”

Dalton didn’t answer right away, then said, “No. I can’t say that I have.” He tapped the toe of a polished shoe against the wooden floor. “I just thought that perhaps . . . under the circumstances you ought to be aware. I know you’d not want John or your son exposed to deceit of any kind. And if it turned out that Mrs. Bradshaw were part of something fraudulent, is it possible that your marriage might be restored?”