Chapter 11

Virginia was quiet when they set out for the farm the following afternoon. She’d spoken at length with Sarah, who was evidently furious enough with John over his handling of the situation to make Virginia wonder if he’d be taking Paul’s place on the office chairs tonight. Sarah didn’t want Virginia to leave, though she did admit in the end that she understood John’s guilt over having participated in the whole fake marriage to begin with. But she didn’t hide a mischievous smile at the prospect of Virginia spending time with her lawfully wedded husband, revealing she still held little or no doubt regarding her own instincts about their marriage being right no matter the foundation.

It was that very notion that had Virginia so quiet now. The farm was indeed far from everything she knew. And setting out alone with Paul reminded her how little she really knew about him. He didn’t even go to church! He’d professed faith at their wedding, but how could she know his faith was real if he didn’t act on it?

Besides that, she was still mourning the loss of her work. She was grateful that Paul had waited the entire morning while she hurriedly visited the material and supply shops she dealt with so she could take an entire trunk load of bonnet goods with her. Perhaps he was kidding when he’d said he wanted her to work while she was at his farm, but with that she was happy to comply. She had every intention of staying out of his way, no matter how lonely that farm became.

The prospect of a three-hour journey was the first challenge. How could she make it clear to him she wouldn’t be a bother? She’d seen last night at the dinner table how he’d resisted all attempts to make light conversation, and she was determined not to prod him into offering companionship he preferred not to give.

For nearly an hour, neither said a word. The awkwardness was like a veil between them, an impenetrable barrier that prevented any idea of how to make herself pleasant yet undemanding company. How did one provide company if the other person preferred being alone?

So she waited for him to speak.

But he didn’t.

Paul slowed the horses for the plank bridge ahead. It was a rickety thing over this particular gully, but it saved a good deal of time going the long way around to a smoother crossing. He ought to have one of his farmhands come out here and fix it, since no one else seemed interested in maintaining it.

But they were still another hour and a half from his farm, and on a public road, so he was neither responsible nor obligated for such repair. Until today, it had never bothered him. The idea that he might be going back and forth between the city more than once every three years, however, made him wonder how one went about having such a thing improved if he didn’t oversee it himself.

He might have voiced his thoughts, now that he had the unprecedented company of someone else in his buggy, but wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear such mundane musings. He couldn’t figure out why Virginia was so quiet. Perhaps leaving the city behind was harder than she expected. She’d cried when Sarah, who had come downstairs fully dressed and looking more like her old self than he’d expected, saw them off. They’d clung to each other as if they’d never see each other again.

Perhaps that was how Virginia really felt, this drastic change to her life.

“So you’re facing yet another loss,” he said aloud, before he could catch the words back.

“Pardon?”

He couldn’t very well ignore the fact that he’d spoken, so he might as well repeat himself. At least he wasn’t about to broach such a dull topic as road conditions.

“You. Another loss. The loss of the city around you, at least for a while, and all of its conveniences. I’m sorry my solution to the crisis of your homelessness is so remote.”

“I’m very grateful for all you’ve done,” she said.

How could he tell her he didn’t care about gratitude? That the notion of someone feeling indebted to him made him uncomfortable? Perhaps in some communities this was acceptable, even desired if there was hope of some give-and-take. But the society he knew best was that of the bees, the one where every member did their work, knew their place, and was rewarded—or not, and often with startling consequences for a society that outwardly worked so well. Nature, human or otherwise, could be cruel. Which was why he’d always sought to remove himself from human society.

A cloud passed overhead, drawing his eye when it blocked out the sun for some time. “Bees don’t like rain,” he said, once again surprised to hear his own voice.

“No?”

“No.”

He slid a sideways glance at her. He didn’t need to talk to pass the time; there were days on end when the only other person he spoke to was Mrs. Higgins, and some when he didn’t even speak to her. The farm ran itself, his overseers knew their places and their jobs, just as dedicated as worker bees. Far be it from him to know if any woman, this one included, liked conversing. But that was what he always believed of females, if he could judge from the way Mrs. Higgins always talked to the others in his employ. He’d given Virginia two opportunities to hold a conversation—blast it all, to give this thing called holy matrimony a tiny, if timid, step forward. But she simply didn’t seem interested.

It was just as well. She’d be going back to the city just as soon as her shop was rebuilt.