Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The sky was blue and the sun warm over the south field as Adam, Jacob and George planted the season’s first crop of barley.
The boys were spread out across the field, working diligently with their bags of seed slung over their shoulders, straw tricorn hats shading their downturned faces from the sun.
Adam stopped for a moment to kneel down and pick up a handful of dirt. He felt its coolness in his palm, studied its dark, rich color between his fingers.
Glancing upward at a hawk soaring freely overhead, Adam thought of his conversation with Madeline a few nights ago, when he’d remembered what it was like in Yorkshire, farming land that was not his.
Back in those days, he had never stopped what he was doing just to touch the earth for pleasure’s sake.
He had touched it, of course, to see how wet or dry it was, or how sandy, but he had never felt such bliss at the feel of it in his hand.
It was as if this land was a part of him now, and to see it flourish was as satisfying as seeing Penelope squeal with delight when she accomplished something she’d set out to do.
Or seeing Jacob smile at Mary with love and pride in his eyes.
Adam was relieved that Madeline had decided to stay. She understood him and the things he cared about. She made him see all the things he should be thankful for, instead of the things he had lost. He wondered fleetingly who did that for her. Who could she talk to?
Just then, Adam noticed a rider ascending the ridge, along the road from the marshlands below. Adam let the dirt slip between his fingers, brushed off his palms and started toward the stranger.
The young man stopped on the road and dismounted. “Hello there!”
As Adam stepped over the plowed furrows, he recognized the caller. It was the young man from Fort Cumberland, the fellow who had spoken to Madeline when they returned there, the day after her arrival.
Adam reached the edge of the field and greeted him. “Good day to you. John Metcalf, isn’t it?”
John’s eyes lit up for some reason as they shook hands. “Yes. Did Madeline mention me?”
Ah, the reason for the visit was clear now. Adam felt the muscles in his back stiffen slightly. “She told me your name at the fort, after she spoke to you.”
“I see.” He glanced around, over Adam’s shoulder, at Jacob and George in the field. “Your sons?”
“They are. What can I do for you, Mr. Metcalf?”
John removed his hat. “Well, I am here for two reasons, sir. I was hoping you might be able to point me in the direction of some land to lease. Someone told me you had some acreage leased to a fellow on Fort Lawrence Ridge.”
“I do. Two spots there, actually. I also own another section of the marsh near Sackville Township.” Adam didn’t know why he was telling John about the other places. None of them were vacant.
John’s shoulders rose and fell with what looked like a nervous sigh. “Are you looking to lease anything at the moment?”
“No,” Adam replied. “I’m fortunate to have excellent tenants. Hardworking men with families.”
John inclined his head hopefully. “They’re not looking to buy and move off anytime soon?”
“If they were ready to buy, or wanted to, I’d sell them the land they’re living on.”
He nodded in understanding. “Do you know of any other farmers who are looking to lease some land? I haven’t had much luck finding anything.”
Adam removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a sleeve. “I can’t think of anyone offhand, John. Have you tried the Petticodiac?”
“The Petticodiac!” he replied. “That’s miles away!”
Adam paused. “I see. You have your heart set on Cumberland.”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to stay near the folks I got to know on the ship, and as far as I know, they’re all looking to settle around here.”
Adam watched John perspire in the hot sun. “Ah. Well, you could try River Hebert. Or Maccan.”
John stared blankly at Adam. From the look on the young man’s face, Adam guessed those places were a little too far as well.
“I reckon I’ll just have to keep looking,” John said, settling his hat back on his head. He glanced at Jacob and George again. “Do you need any help? Till I find a place of my own, I’m temporarily for hire.”
Adam cleared his throat. “Not presently, John, but I’ll keep you in mind at haying time. I usually hire a few hands then.”
An awkward silence ensued.
“What was the second thing you came to speak to me about?” Adam asked.
John’s face flushed red. He swept his hat off again. “Ah. Yes. Well, sir, I came to ask your permission to…”
He paused and swallowed hard. Things were quiet. That hawk was circling overhead again.
Adam pressed him. “Yes, what is it?”
“To call on Madeline,” John finally blurted out.
For a moment, Adam didn’t know what to say. He had suspected this was coming, and wasn’t entirely comfortable with the fact that he had hoped John would choke on his words before spitting them out.
Quickly, Adam told himself that he was only being protective and he would feel the same way if Penelope was older and a young man came to court her. Adam would naturally want to refuse him, too. He wouldn’t, of course, unless he had a very good reason to.
Was there a good reason to refuse John?
God, why couldn’t he think of one? He wanted to think of one!
Adam hesitated for another moment and felt the awkward silence from a few seconds ago mushroom into something noticeably uncomfortable.
“Was Madeline expecting you today?” Adam asked.
If the answer was yes, he would feel irritated, even though he knew there was no reason to feel that way. It would be an irrational, ridiculous response, and he was not a ridiculous man.
“No, sir. I wanted to ask your permission first. I presume you’re acting as her…as her…not her father, but her—”
Father!
“Guardian?” Adam finished for him.
“Yes. Guardian. Thank you, sir.”
Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn’t like the way he felt. He didn’t like this sudden ill-tempered mood, when only moments ago in the field, he had felt on top of the world.
“When do you wish to call on her?” he asked John, only because he had to.
John’s face went pale, and Adam realized that his tone had intimidated the young man. He should have regretted it, but he didn’t. Wasn’t it the guardian’s duty to intimidate young suitors?
“I would like to call on her today, sir, if I could have your permission.” His voice cracked on the last word.
Adam took a long, deep breath and replaced his hat on his head. “All right. For one hour.”
The color returned to John’s face as he backed away. “Thank you, sir.”
Adam made no reply. He simply watched John’s lively, youthful gait as he practically leaped back onto his horse.
“Good day, sir!” John galloped off, up the road toward the house.
Adam stared numbly at the cloud of dust rising behind those fervent, thundering hooves. He suddenly felt an ache in his back from bending to plant the barley. Why was he feeling it now, of all times?
He knew why, and it worried him more than he cared to admit.
Feeling the muscles in his jaw clench, Adam turned and walked back across the field. Curse that John Metcalf for making him wish he was a younger man, and that it was he who was riding up to the house to call on Madeline today.
There was no point denying it. He wasn’t just being protective. He was jealous!
As soon as he admitted it, a flash memory of the time he had spent with Madeline in his study the other evening came hurling back at him.
He had been working so hard not to think of it, not to feel what he had felt, but now, he couldn’t push the truth away.
All he could think of was his arms around Madeline as she wept, the sweet smell of her soft skin and the feel of those loose tendrils of her hair beneath the touch of his fingers.
It all stirred him into a whirlwind of impassioned awareness.
Adam halted in the field and stood there, dumbstruck.
Heaven help him. He was feeling things he shouldn’t be feeling. He should never have held her in his arms, should never have touched her. Now his mind had something to hold onto—an innocent moment to repeat in his memory, over and over.
Ah, if he were alone with her now, feeling this new, unbidden awareness, he wasn’t sure he would be able to resist her as he had the other night when she was gazing up at him with tears on her cheeks and adoration in her eyes.
He might very well take advantage of the attraction he sensed in her, too, for these feelings of his had suddenly become impossible to explain or deny.
How long had it been since he’d held a woman in his arms? he wondered ruefully. Not since Jane had died, and to be honest, he had stopped holding her long before that, when doors were routinely slammed in his face after nightfall.
Now he felt like a bear waking from a long, cold winter in the den. He was starving for affection and love.
He realized suddenly, with a disturbing rush of dread, that he was in a terrible pickle, for he was engaged to one woman while having feelings for another. Clearly, his world was about to become intensely complicated.
* * *
Madeline was sitting in the kitchen plucking a hen for dinner when a knock sounded at the door. She rose and ventured across the front hall to answer it, but Mrs. Dalton, who had not left them yet, answered it first.
It was John Metcalf. He stood on the step, nervously hugging his black tricorn hat to his chest. He said something to Mrs. Dalton, and she invited him in. His apprehensive gaze then fell upon Madeline, and she knew he had come to see her.
Mrs. Dalton turned to Madeline. “You have a visitor.”
“Good morning, Miss Oxley,” John said, bowing politely.
Madeline reached around to untie her apron at the back. “Good morning, John. If you will just give me a moment…”