The Countess' Lucky Charm (12 page)

“I can see why this land is called New Caledonia,” he remarked. “I visited the Scottish highlands once. It looks very similar.”

“Wouldn’t the Scottish highlands have more people?” An inane comment but at least it gave her a chance to collect herself. She dropped her hand and stepped away. No use thinking he meant anything by the gesture.

“I daresay yes,” Temple grinned. “Anywhere would have more people than here.” He tilted his head back to watch an eagle circle high over them, a scrap of feathers against the soaring sky. “Magnificent birds, aren’t they?”

“It’s just as well there are so few people here.” Her voice trembled. Blinking hard against the still threatening tears, she pointed first to her heavy woollen dress, soiled and stained from the journey, sleeves rolled up against the heat, then to her discarded boots, muddied and worn at the heels.

“Our attire would turn more than a few heads in London,” he hooted. “Fashion pariahs we are.”

“If nothing else, it’s practical.” A strange voice interrupted them.

They both whirled about to see a dark-haired white man on horseback drawing to halt. He slid off his mount and threw the reins over a bush before approaching them, hand extended.

Intelligent eyes peered at them from beneath quizzical eyebrows and a receding hairline, and long sideburns feathered away along his clean-shaven jaw. His clothing was European in fashion: trousers, jacket and high-collared shirt. In short, a welcome breath of civilization.

“Daniel Harmon,” he said. “And you are the new partner sent by the North West Company? Your travelling companions told me,” he added.

“Yes, Temple Wellington.” The men shook hands, eyeing each other up and down like bulldogs. Apparently satisfied with what they saw, they broke apart.
 

“But who are you?” Daniel pointed at Simone.

“Mrs Wellington,” she answered. Temple had instructed her not to use his title so as not to arouse too much curiosity and by now “Mrs” slipped off her tongue naturally. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr Harmon.” She bobbed a stiff curtsy, the first one in a long while and a welcome reminder of refined manners.

Daniel stared at Simone, clearly amazed but too courteous to say anything.

“I couldn’t bear to part with my darling wife. Simone agreed to accompany me,” Temple interjected, correctly interpreting the expression on the other man’s face. “I know it’s rather unusual.”

“Yes,” Daniel replied. “Some of the French Canadian traders travel with their wives, but they’re native women. You are the first European woman I’ve seen this far in the wilderness. How very brave and adventurous of you.”

“Yes, my wife is an extraordinary woman.” A half-smile curled Temple’s lips.

Simone felt Temple’s gaze on her, warm and admiring. She blushed. His wife. It never failed to astound her how much she liked the sound of that. If only it were true. She looked away to hide her discomfort.

 
“Is this all there is,” she blurted out, waving an arm toward the few buildings she could see.

“There’s an Indian village a short distance away, where the river joins the lake. But yes,” the other man said ruefully, “this is all there is.”

“I see.” Simone drooped at his words then glanced over to Temple. A barely concealed air of excitement emanated from him and there was no doubt he embraced the challenge of this wilderness. He seemed happy to be here and she didn’t want to spoil it for him. Hiding her lingering disappointment, she pulled herself upright.

“Lisette, my woman, will be pleased to meet you. It can be a little lonely here. Come, there’s a cabin ready for you.” Daniel grabbed the reins of his horse and without looking back, started toward the fort on foot. “Follow me.”

“Come, my dear.” Temple waited while she collected her boots and slipped them on then held out an arm to her as if they were strolling through London’s Hyde Park and not clambering up a slight bluff toward their new home.

Simone clung to Temple’s elbow. One question had been answered—it appeared as if they would have a place to call home.

She kept her gaze focused on the horse’s rump. At least it was a familiar sight—there were horses in London too. The homesickness receded. And, she reminded herself, she remained here with Temple.

 
“Here ye be.” Daniel showed them a tiny bark-roofed log cabin within the palisade. “I’ll leave you to freshen up then come find me in the warehouse.” He pointed to the largest building.

“I thank you, Mr Harmon, I’m certain we’ll be comfortable here,” Temple said.

Daniel waved then climbed on his horse and rode off.

Temple
stood back to let Simone enter first. She took a few steps inside then stopped, dismayed.

So newly built, patches of grass dotted the dirt floor within and gaps of light shone between the poorly chinked log walls. The cabin contained not a stick of furniture and sported only one window. Rather, she supposed it to be a window for it was covered in parchment rather than glass.

A stone fireplace dominated one wall but for the rest, the tiny cabin scarcely had room for them and their belongings, thrown haphazardly on the ground.

“Where are we going to sit? And sleep?” She clapped her hands to her face, covering her mouth to hide the trembling lips. True, their accommodations on the journey here had not always been the best, in fact, a lot of nights had been spent curled up on the ground under a tipped over canoe. However, she had kept in mind their destination which had made the discomforts bearable.

Ale house, bah. What a fanciful fool she had been. She should have realized Stuart Lake Outpost would be just as the other fur trading forts they had passed through, should have realized that Temple’s aspirations were so much different than hers.

She gave way to the disappointment that had hovered over her shoulders since their arrival. She couldn’t deny she had expected much, much more. A few tears slipped out of her eyes and rolled cool and wet down her cheeks.

“It will be fun, Simone, just give it a chance.” Temple made his voice hearty to bolster Simone’s obviously sagging spirits. Prudently, he kept his thoughts to himself.

He, too, had expected a flourishing settlement. During the journey, he had attributed the warning comments about the outpost as tiresome meddling from those jealous of his plans and had disregarded them. Who had known finding one’s fortune in the wilderness would be such a crude endeavour? Nevertheless, he was here and determined to make it a go of it.

However, there was the matter of Simone. Spending each and every day in her company, although delightful, was driving him to distraction. Ever since leaving Montreal, he had avoided being alone with her. Easy enough to do when surrounded at all times by voyageurs and traders with no privacy whatsoever but it hadn’t stopped his thoughts from turning to her. Often.

The enticing thought of finally being alone with her during the night drifted through his mind.

Her tears surprised him. She had been a stalwart companion during the long trek overland. At first, there had been raised eyebrows over her sex but she proved to be as tough and resilient as any of the men. Nothing fazed her, nothing upset her, not the long portages when they had helped carry the canoes and goods, not the lack of decent accommodation, nor consuming strange foods such as pemmican and bannock. Yes, as long as she was warm and dry, she was happy.

Thankfully, she was not accustomed to luxury.

That was it. That was how he could coax her around and restore her good humour. Surely the little cabin was much better than a pallet in the workhouse?

“Simone,” he began.

She turned reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks toward him. His heart twisted at the pathetic sight. With clenched fists, he held his arms firm at his side, resisting the urge to take her in his arms to comfort her.

Memories of that long ago afternoon he had kissed her surged in his mind, making it doubly difficult to hold himself back. With all his will, he controlled himself. He couldn’t, however, control his traitorous desire. He turned away to hide the sudden bulge in his pants.

“How long must we stay here, my lord?” She sniffled as she said it.

He glanced back at her over his shoulder and shrugged. “As long as it takes.” Relieved, he felt his erection begin to dissipate. He turned back to her.

“For what?” She wiped her nose on her elbow.

“To find my fortune.”

“You don’t need a fortune, you have one.” Her voice was accusing.

“Well, actually, I do not. May I remind you I’m the younger son.” Bloody hell, why was she asking about this now? She’d never mentioned it before, therefore he had assumed it was of no consequence to her. Evidently, her distress was genuine and guilt stabbed him that he had put her in this situation. He must make it up to her somehow.

“Couldn’t you have found your fortune back in England?”

“No.” How could he tell her the truth? He had tried to make his own way but had only succeeded in digging himself in even deeper. That was why he had left England—not to seek his fortune, but to save his skin.

She looked at him long and hard. He schooled his face to remain expressionless.

“Well,” she said at last, pulling her shoulders back and stiffening her back. “If I help, we could go home sooner, couldn’t we? If I help, we would be two to share the load.”

“And how do you think you can help?” Amused, he watched as she poked through the bags and bundles piled around them as if determined to do something that very instant. “What of your ale house?”

“There is no call for an ale house here,” she said sternly, as if to convince herself as much as him. “I don’t know, there must be something I can do.” She straightened up, apparently discarding the notion of unpacking. “Where did Mr Harmon go? I’ll ask him.”

She had recovered her good humour although he was sure she was saddened over the loss of her idea. He admired her resiliency. “Shall we check in with Mr Harmon? We can set up our bed rolls later.”

 
“What a wonderful suggestion,” she said. “I would like to see more of the outpost.” He frowned at the bright tone in her voice but she returned his look without a hint of guile, even flashing him a little smile.

They stepped outside and started across the yard through a fog of mosquitoes.

“Wretched things,” Simone muttered, swatting at the insects. “I shall never get used to them.”

“I know,” Temple groaned. “My arms are a mass of welts. Let’s walk faster, shall we?” He picked up the pace.

“Very well.” Simone ignored his outstretched hand and picked up her skirts in one hand, leaving the other free to wave about her face. “Phew.”

“Hello!” Temple shouted once they reached the warehouse.

“In here, come in, come in.” A man’s voice drifted through the door.

They stepped inside to find Daniel sitting behind a table, open ledger, quill and ink pot in front of him.

“Oh, my.” Simone looked about her. Speechless, she let her gaze wander.

A hodgepodge of goods surrounded them: stacks of furs of all sizes and shapes, blankets, rifles, powder, iron pots and even bolts of cloth. The faint odour of smoke mixed with the musky smell of the furs and the acrid bite of gun powder. Not unpleasant, but a raw, savage odour much like the land they were in. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly to better catch Daniels’ words.

“This is what drives the North West Company,” Daniel explained. “Furs.” He pointed to different piles as he as he spoke. “Wolf, mink, otter, fox, bear. But particularly beaver, and the more, the better. That’s why we’ve set up here. It’s a central location for a very large area.” He showed them a map pinned on the wall. “See? We are on the edge of Stuart Lake which connects to many other waterways.”

Temple
strolled over and peered at the map. With one grimy finger, he traced several of the rivers shown. “This is a commercial enterprise of good size, is it not? That’s what I was told.”

“Yes.” Daniel nodded. “We trade our goods for furs, pure and simple. You won’t be that busy. Our duties only take a few hours a day. For the rest, it is up to you to while away the time.” Daniel turned toward Simone. “Will you excuse us while I go over what’s expected of your husband?”

“Yes, of course, Mr Harmon, but I would really like to help. Have you something for me to do?” Simone asked.

“You would be too much of a distraction here or in the store. But if you are amenable, I’d like you to speak English with my wife. She speaks French and Cree but I have been teaching her English. I’ll take her with me when I return to my home in the United States and she’s going to need English.”

“I may not be the best choice,” Simone began, looking Daniel Harmon full in the face. How could she possibly teach Mrs Harmon when she had only just learned proper English herself? The idea daunted her.

“Nonsense,” Temple interrupted her. “You’ll do just fine. What better way to reinforce what you have learned from me than by teaching someone else?”

 
“Lisette wants to practice her English,” Daniel said. “I’m not always the most patient with her.”

Simone doubted her ability to be a teacher, especially if teaching required patience. Surely she could do something else. She opened her mouth to reply but Daniel spoke before she had a chance to say anything.