Chapter 13
It had been two days since Cressida had last seen Ronan, and there was a little voice in the back of her mind telling her that she should go over there and check on them.
She didn’t think she was going to miss him being around, not when she hardly knew him, but there was significantly less laughter in her home with him and Tobin gone.
Etta was barely smiling, and she spent most of her day working on her sewing or knitting while sitting on the porch, looking out in the direction of their land.
Etta glanced at her as she stepped out onto the porch for what had to be the third time that morning. “You know, you could just go over there and see him,” Etta said, her smile teasing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cressida leaned against the railing surrounding the porch, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her skin. “How do you feel about doing the washing this morning? Some of the linens need to be cleaned.”
Though Cressida was more than capable of handling it herself, it had been a long time since she had asked Etta to do any work that required much physical labor.
She didn’t necessarily think Etta should be doing it, but she had promised herself that she was going to let Etta do more, to worry less about how she could get hurt, how she could make the injury worse.
It still felt impossible not to worry about it, but Cressida was trying.
Etta lit up as Cressida’s eyes opened. “Of course!”
“The basket of what needs to be washed is already out near the line, and I drew up some water from the well.” Cressida offered her a warm smile. “Maybe after that, we could spend some time making some pastries.”
“Pastries, huh?” Etta asked, her tone teasing. “What would you want to do some baking for? You don’t like baking much, which makes me wonder why you want to bake.”
Cressida’s cheeks flamed as she walked down the steps, heading to the barn. “I’m going to finish up with the horses.”
“Cressy!” Etta called after her, laughter in her voice. “You’re only going to be able to run from whatever’s going on in your head for so long.”
Smiling, Cressida shook her head and entered the barn, cleaning out the stalls and humming to herself. Her heart was feeling lighter in her chest than it had in a long time. She made quick work of the stalls and changed the water in the troughs before heading back to the house.
Mrs. Agatha was out back with Etta, helping her string bedsheets on the line. “Cressida! There you are.”
“I didn’t know you were going to be coming by today,” Cressida said, grabbing a couple of the pillowcases and hanging them up.
“I thought I would stop by and share some news from town.” Mrs. Agatha gave her an impish smile. “You wouldn’t believe what people are talking about these days. They think the mayor is looking to get married!”
Cressida’s stomach dropped to her feet. Was that why he had wanted to walk with her? She knew that he had some sort of interest in her—after all, he sought her out when she was in town often—but she thought that he was going to lose that when she had made it clear she didn’t share the sentiment.
“I doubt he’s really going to settle down,” Cressida said, swallowing hard as she grabbed another pillowcase and held it up.
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Agatha said with a smile that seemed just a little off.
“Men like him are often looking to settle down, even if they don’t truly want to, because it’s what’s expected of them.
If he wants to maintain political power in town, he’s going to need to find himself a wife and have some children. ”
“I can hardly see why that matters,” Etta said, moving down the line and reaching for another sheet to hang. “You shouldn’t have to be married to have worth or be deemed good at your job.”
“Because family is important.” Mrs. Agatha said the words like she believed the principle, but not like she believed it should be applied to the mayor, and the way his political ambition superseded all else. “He’s been speaking about you, Cressida.”
“I’ve told him plainly before that I’m not looking to remarry.
If he thinks that expressing interest is a good idea, well, it’s going to be met with disappointment.
” Cressida’s stomach turned. “We have nothing in common. During the few times I’ve talked to him, he’s cared more about who else he might be able to talk to than focusing on the conversation in front of him. ”
“And that’s part of being a politician.” Mrs. Agatha shook her head, sympathy in her eyes.
“I used to go to parties with my Edgar all the time before he passed, and it was the same when he was mayor. You never knew if you were going to receive his attention or not, but he made up for the distance when we were home, and he made sure that I never felt less loved.”
“I cannot say that Conrad would be the kind of man to do that with any sort of confidence.” Cressida knew he wouldn’t. She had known him for many years, and he was only concerned with himself. “What else is going on in town this week?”
She was tired of speaking about Conrad and all his scheming, and she certainly didn’t want to think he was going to come knocking on her door with fanciful ideas of marriage.
“Come on, let’s get some dough made while we talk,” Etta said, scooping up the empty laundry basket and leading the way back to the house.
Mrs. Agatha smiled, eyeing Cressida. “People want to know about the men, too. They keep asking questions. It seems like Conrad rode out there yesterday, and Ronan made quite an impression.”
“I’m sure he did.” Cressida’s lips twitched at the thought of the two men meeting. “I doubt they found anything in common.”
“I doubt they did, too.” Mrs. Agatha held open the front door while they all went inside. “There are women in town who are excited about the prospect of another eligible bachelor in town. Not the mayor, the new men, of course.”
Etta stiffened, glancing at Mrs. Agatha before pulling out everything they would need to make some berry-filled pastries. “I don’t think either of the men is going to be looking for wives while they’re here.”
“You know Tobin and the other man well?” Mrs. Agatha asked, already beginning to measure out the flour they needed on the counter.
“Ronan?” Etta asked, shrugging. “We’ve spoken to them a bit since they went to Ronan’s property, but we haven’t gotten to know them that well.
Well, actually, I’ve spoken to Tobin a bit, but I don’t think he’s going to be interested in finding a wife.
He seems to be more interested in building a career than a family. ”
Cressida bit the inside of her cheek, starting to prepare the berries for the pastries. She couldn’t ignore the note of hurt that lingered in Etta’s voice.
“I don’t know,” Cressida said, wanting to give her sister some hope since she seemed to be getting attached to the man. “He did say he was going to build you those garden beds, and that’s not the kind of thing a man does for a woman when he doesn’t have at least a little interest in her.”
Mrs. Agatha’s eyes opened wide. “Garden beds?”
“Standing ones, so I don’t have to kneel as much,” Etta said, a small smile coming back to her face.
“Those will be wonderful!” Mrs. Agatha grinned. “Now, how could you possibly think that this man has no interest in you if he’s willing to build you a garden?”
“He’s simply being nice,” Etta insisted, though her cheeks colored a dark shade of pink.
Cressida caught Mrs. Agatha’s eyes and playfully rolled her own.
Mrs. Agatha looked between the two of them, a flash of understanding crossing her face. “Well, perhaps there are things we cannot mean to know about the workings of the minds of others, and perhaps what the men came here for will be changed in time.”
Before Etta or Cressida could say anything else, there was a knock on the door that interrupted them. Cressida cleaned off her hands and headed to the front door, opening it to see a boy on the front porch with a stunning sunflower in his hand.
“This is for you,” the boy said, handing her a note and the flower before turning to leave.
Cressida watched him go back to the road before heading back inside, shutting the door behind her.
She opened the note, her blood rushing in her ears, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but they dropped dead when she saw who had sent the note.
Cressida,
I saw this flower and thought of you. I hope that one day we could perhaps go for a ride and speak about our future. There’s a beautiful field filled with flowers just like these that I’d love to show you.
Conrad Filmore
“That’s a pretty flower,” Mrs. Agatha said as Cressida walked back into the kitchen. “Who sent it?”
“Conrad.” Cressida put the flower to the side, handing the note over to Mrs. Agatha. “I don’t know how to respond to this.”
Mrs. Agatha read it over.
“Well, I suppose you could do worse. There are whispers in town about whether or not you girls are going to settle down or not. Conrad would be able to provide for you well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of this property anymore, but I do think this is rather presumptuous of him.
He writes as if your future is a sure thing and not something that two people get to decide together, and I suppose that is the part that bothers me the most about it. ”
“I don’t…” Cressida paused, trying to figure out the nicest way to word what she was going to say.
While she had already spoken a little of her feelings on the matter, there was more to it. More that bubbled to the surface. She had to get the words out, otherwise they were going to swallow her whole and leave her feeling like she was drowning.
“He’s always been a kind enough man, but I don’t see him as someone I could marry, and I don’t think that perspective would ever change. And I certainly don’t appreciate people in town talking about my marriage prospects.
I was married once already, in case everyone has forgotten, and I lost the man I loved. I lost my best friend, and they’ll all have to forgive me if I don’t marry the first man who shows interest in me. I’m not even sure that I ever want to be married again!”
The words flowed out of her like a river bursting through a beaver dam after a heavy storm. Once she started talking, she couldn’t stop.
Mrs. Agatha gave her a sympathetic look. “The mayor isn’t the man for you.”
Cressida let out a deep breath, feeling a little relieved. “You don’t think so either?”
“No. You, my darling, are a diamond, and he is nothing but a diamond dealer.” Mrs. Agatha put the note to the side, laughing with her. “Now, let’s put this out of our heads for the time being and get back to the baking. There’s nothing more that I’d love than to spend the day with you both.”
Etta smiled, helping Mrs. Agatha make the pastry dough while Cressida went back to cooking down the berries.
For the afternoon, they kept working on the pastries, making little filled desserts with flakey crusts that was mouthwatering.
The entire home smelled like baked goods. As much as Cressida disliked baking, she always liked the scent of the home afterward.
I might have to learn to like baking if I have my own children.
The thought came and went quickly, bursting forth like a door slamming open before swinging shut again. It had been a long time since she last gave any thought to having children of her own.
And yet now she was.
It was bittersweet. She knew it would be too difficult to have children and take care of Etta at the same time.
Cressida kept glancing outside the window, watching the fat white clouds rolling across the sky, seeing the birds flit by the window. She couldn’t remember the last time she had just taken part of the day to bake. Etta was right, she didn’t like it. Baking took far too long to make far too little.
However, being able to slow down and just watch the world go by around her was nice. Not in the way she usually did, when she felt trapped in her life with no way out. No, this was a different kind of watch.
It was the kind where she felt like she could breathe, where she thought she could admire the shades of brown on a bird’s wings and not think about the next chore that needed to be done.
By the time they were done, the kitchen smelled magnificent, but Cressida was still worrying about the letter from Conrad.
He was too certain of a future between the two of them, and she had been careful to avoid doing anything that would give him an idea that there could be any such thing between them.
Etta nudged her out of the way, reaching for one of the cooled pastries and taking a big bite. “Oh, this is delicious.”
Cressida smiled and reached for one of her own, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to stomach it with everything going through her head.
Sooner or later, she would have to speak with Conrad about the flower and make it abundantly clear that his advances were unwanted.
“I should be going,” Mrs. Agatha said after sampling one of the desserts. “But this has been a wonderful morning with you girls.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Cressida said, following her to the door and stepping out.
“It was good to see you relaxed.” Mrs. Agatha turned to pull her into a tight hug. “I know life might seem hard at times, but you just have to keep cherishing those moments when you get to move forward with life. Where you get to stop and have something good for yourself.”
“Well, according to Conrad, he thinks that he’s going to be good for me.” Cressida heard the bitter and annoyed tone to her voice, but she didn’t see a point in hiding it.
“You’re a smart and capable woman, and the last thing you need is to settle for a relationship where there’s no love.” Mrs. Agatha cupped her cheek. “I want you to be happy. You deserve it after all you’ve been through.”
“I’m trying to become happy.”
“I know.” Mrs. Agatha brushed Cressida’s cheek with her thumb. “You’re going to be just fine, and you’re going to find happiness again one day. I can promise you that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Mrs. Agatha gave her a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek before turning and heading down to the road. Cressida stood out in the front yard, watching her go. Even when Mrs. Agatha had disappeared from sight, Cressida still stayed outside, soaking up some of the early afternoon sun.
She was about to head inside when a dark shape at the corner of her vision caught her eye.
There was a man on a horse in the distance, his hat pushed up, facing Ronan’s property. The man didn’t approach, but his spine was stiff, like he was determined to sit in the saddle until he saw whatever it was he wanted to see.
Why’s he watching their place?