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Miriam stirred the stew again, checking for the tenderness of the meat and vegetables. “Dinner is almost ready,” she called to her father in the next room.
She wiped her hands and crossed to a different, much larger pot, where her and her father’s clothing was being laundered. She stirred that pot too, eying the clothing inside—aprons, petticoats, men’s shirts, and other white fabrics—and wondered whether to add more bluing. No matter how much she worked, there always seemed to be more to do about the house or the garden, or there were sheep to be cared for—more so now that her father’s health wasn’t what it once was. The wintry cold of December had sunk deep into his bones and joints as it did every year, and he’d taken to his bed, scarcely able to walk from the swelling in his knees and pain in his hips.
Truly, it was a wonder the two of them managed as well as they did without any outside help. Granted, they had to manage; they could not afford to hire even one servant; the closest they got to that was occasionally giving an extra coin to the Smith boy down the road to run a quick errand for them.
A burst of wind kicked up outside, sending a haunting sound like an ethereal voice wrapping itself around the cottage, whispering things only those from another realm could understand. Miriam left the laundry pot to empty the bug trap, but the sound made her pause. Winter was coming, and with it, rain and snow. She glanced at the corner of the roof above the fireplace; it had begun to leak with autumn rain showers, and they lacked the money they would need to cover the considerable cost of re-thatching the roof.
Before she could chase away the worry, a knock sounded on the door. Darkness had already blanketed the village, as it always did early in the evening so close to Christmas. She went to the door and opened it, curious and not knowing what to expect. Opening the door let in a chilly breeze, but the sight of Jacob standing on the other side made her smile and care nothing at all for the cold.
“Jacob!” she said, feeling her smile pulling wide. “Come in, or you’ll catch your death of cold.” She stepped aside as he entered, closing the door behind him. “I didn’t expect to see you again today.”
Goodness, might he interpret that to mean she didn’t wish to see him? Because the opposite was true.
He seemed to be avoiding her eye—very unlike Jacob. Was he uncomfortable around her? Perhaps she shouldn’t have invited him inside; gossiping old ladies who heard of it might flap their tongues, though Jacob was always a perfect gentleman.
“May I speak with Mr. Brown?” Jacob said. He’d removed his cap, and now his fingers seemed to be worrying it so much, they were liable to rub a hole into the wool. He glanced up, and their gazes caught. He smiled, and his cheeks bloomed with color.
Dear Jacob. That smile would forever lighten her heart—and make it patter.
“You wish to speak with my father?” She’d heard him well enough, but the reality of what that meant, what his blushing cheeks meant, suddenly came over her. Her hands flew to her mouth, and her eyes pricked with happy tears. “Do you mean . . .”
“Yes.” Jacob stepped forward and reached out. She happily placed her hands in his and closed the gap between them even more. “I’m here to ask him for your hand. If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Of course!” Miriam said, her heart beating so crazily that it might as well have been a group of boys banging on drums. “I want nothing so much as to be with you.”
“We must marry quickly because—” Jacob’s voice cut off, and his lips pressed into a tight line.
Miriam felt quite certain she knew what he was going to say. Perhaps not the specifics, but the general concern. “Norman?”
“He wants me to become an MP, and our marriage does not factor into his plans.” Jacob took a deep breath and sighed worriedly. Brow furrowed, he went on. “My brother has always been difficult.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Indeed.” Jacob swallowed hard. “He’s clever, and he’s done plenty of things in the past to destroy my hopes or to make me a laughingstock or to control my decisions. All our lives, he’s been little more than a conniving fox for me to constantly outwit. If I lost the game of wits when we were young, I took the blame for some mischief he’d done, or he got the last sweet Papa brought back from London. But now . . .” The shake of his head worried Miriam, and she braced herself as he went on. “So much more is at stake than the last piece of candy or foregoing supper as a punishment. If he has his way, I’ll lose you. And I will not risk that.”
Concern combined with her love for Jacob, the two emotions twining together like a plait. “What are we to do? The banns must be read for several weeks, but surely he can’t declare that we are of close relation or name any other legitimate reason we should not wed. He cannot stop us from marrying.”
“I don’t know what he’ll do, but he will try to stop it from happening, which is why we must act quickly.”
A sound turned their heads to the doorway leading to her father’s bedchamber. He stood there, leaning on the doorframe and a cane, looking weak of body and troubled of spirit.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Miriam said, hurrying to his side. “I’ll bring you supper soon.”
He waved her away. “I’m not going back to bed quite yet.” He eyed Jacob and nodded toward him. “Did I hear you correctly, that you came this night to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”
Once more, Jacob swallowed and nodded. “Yes sir, I did.”
“And your brother objects?”
“He does.”
“Well, I do not object.” He smiled at that.
“Thank you, Father.” Miriam walked to him and kissed his cheek.
“I want your happiness more than anything.” Her father lifted a hand from the doorframe and stroked her cheek with his trembling thumb. “I won’t be around much longer, and I want to go to my eternal rest knowing that you are cared for and loved.”
Jacob stepped closer. “Thank you, Mr. Brown. I will do everything in my power to ensure that your daughter is both happy and cared for. It will be my life’s work.”
“Good.” Her father shifted, and Miriam went to his side to help him walk back to bed. He paused in his step and tossed one more comment over his shoulder at Jacob. “If I can aid you in thwarting your brother’s intentions, please let me know, and I’ll do it.”
“I will,” Jacob said. His face already looked lighter than it had when he’d entered, when a weight had pulled at the corners of his eyes.
A few minutes later, her father back in bed, Miriam and Jacob sat on the settee and discussed the possibilities.
“A new law went into effect last month,” Jacob said. “It provides a way for a couple to marry more quickly, without the banns needing to be read for three weeks.”
“That’s possible?” Miriam asked, not doubting him but amazed. “Truly? How?”
“A bishop must provide a license, and representatives of the bride and groom must swear that there are no impediments to the marriage, which must occur within three months of the license.”
That seemed far too simple, yet Miriam wanted to hope. “That’s all? A license can replace the banns? A bishop can grant a license without any other requirement?”
“Well, there is a payment that must be made to ensure that the sworn statement is correct, but I have the money. Though the estate was entailed to my brother, my father was able to leave some money for me. I’ll use that.”
“But that money should be saved,” Miriam began. She knew all too well how quickly fortunes could change, and if one had money, one should save it for the inevitable difficulties of life.
“This is the only way I can see to thwart Norman’s plans, whatever they may be.”
“But if we marry here, couldn’t he cause, I don’t know, some problem in town to prevent it from happening?”
“Yes, which is why I intend to go on a trip to Harton first thing in the morning.” At her confused expression, he explained. “The ceremony must occur in a parish where one party has lived for a fortnight. The law used to require a much longer period. But I’ll get a license and stay in Harton for two weeks, and then you and your father can join me there for the ceremony.”
“Would your brother become suspicious of your up and leaving, right before Christmas?”
“Not at all. We have an aunt and uncle in Harton who have invited us for the holiday, not wanting us to spend Christmas alone after our father’s passing. I can certainly slip away some morning and meet you at the church.”
“Goodness, Jacob, this is all almost too wonderful to be true!” So much had happened in just a few moments—she’d become engaged to the man she loved more than life itself, he’d found a way for it to happen despite his brother’s protestations, and it would occur in only two weeks.
“I will leave for Harton in the morning and arrange for the license after that. We’ll need someone to represent your father—I can hire a solicitor for that. And we can draw up the contract to make sure all is as it should be. What do you say to marrying on the morning of Christmas Eve?”
“So soon?” Miriam’s mind was spinning with the news and happiness and the idea of so much change. “That sounds divine.”
Jacob’s voice lowered slightly, and his eyes took on a hint of concern again. “It would have to remain a secret, as much as possible, with only our witnesses present. It won’t be anything grand, with flowers, music, a luncheon after, or any of the other things a regular wedding should have and, no doubt, all brides hope for—”
Miriam stopped his words with a kiss, then pulled back. “I’ve long hoped for you. All that matters for our wedding is that you and I will be there, together, and that we’ll be bound as husband and wife for the rest of our lives. Nothing else is of any consequence, even if it means I end up wearing an old dress covered in mud stains because of an ornery sheep.” She tilted her head to one side and then the other. “Though I believe I’ll be able to manage something a bit nicer than that.”
Jacob leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. She breathed him in, feeling the tension and nerves in her body ebb away like the outgoing tide. “I love you, Miriam Brown.”
“And I you, Jacob Davies.”