Longings of the Heart (2 page)

“John, we must eat sometime. The morning is nearly gone and we’ve not breakfasted yet. If we don’t eat and emerge soon, I’ll be too embarrassed to step outdoors.”

John didn’t loosen his hold. “I daresay, I’d not want you discomfited,” he teased.

“It’s not funny.” She wriggled out of his arms and set the eggs on a shelf over the fire. “Our breakfast is nearly ready.” Hannah stirred the eggs, checked the meat and biscuits, and then straightened. She glanced at the tiny table sitting against the wall of the kitchen. “I’ve set places for us.”

“Just one more kiss, eh?” John pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Hannah smiled and met his ardent gaze. He made her feel as if life could be perfect.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, Hannah Bradshaw.”

“No need for flattery. You’ve already turned my head.”

“It’s not flattery. You are beautiful. And it’s more than your physical appearance I’m speaking of. You’re even lovelier on the inside.” He chuckled. “On the ship when I first laid eyes on you, you knocked the breath right out of me. I knew then that we belonged together.”

“How could you? You didn’t know me. And I was an absolute mess of a human being. We all were.”

“You were dirty and your hair needed combing, but I could see you—lovely and proud and gracious.”

Hannah felt a flush in her cheeks. “I must admit there was something I saw in your eyes that caught me right off. But your wild hair and beard covered up this handsome face.” She rested a hand on his cheek, remembering how dreadful he’d looked. Without warning the oppression and vileness of the convict ship and the agony of those days swept over her. “I want to forget all of that.”

“I never will. And I don’t want to. That’s where I met you, and as ugly as it was, our days at sea made us strong. We’ll need that.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Hannah crouched in front of the hearth and stirred the eggs again. They were sticking. “I can be thankful for that. But the rest of it . . .” She looked at her biscuits. They were nearly brown. “I can never justify what happened to us.” She straightened. “Now sit. Your breakfast is ready.”

John moved to the table. “What would you like to do today? It’s a fine morning. The heat’s holding off, but we can expect it to warm up; it is November.”

Hannah removed the food from the fire. She cut slices from the roasted pork and set them on John’s plate, then ladled eggs alongside the meat and placed two biscuits on the dish. She set it on the table in front of him. “The eggs are a bit overdone.”

“They look perfectly grand.” John closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. “Smells good. Thank you, luv.” He crooked his finger at her, and she bent down so he could kiss her cheek.

Wearing a smile, Hannah went to the hearth, and using a towel to grasp the handle of the kettle, she lifted it from the crossbar and filled the cups on the table with coffee.

John took a bite of egg. “Very good.”

After returning the kettle to its place over the fire, Hannah served herself a small portion of eggs and a biscuit and then sat across the table from her husband. “It was kind of the Athertons to give us this day together.”

“Indeed. But tomorrow it will be back to work.” John cradled his cup between his hands and sipped. “More time together would be outstanding, of course, but I’m grateful for what we have.”

“I doubt we’ll ever manage to find enough time together.” Hannah smiled and then took a bite of her biscuit. “Did you notice the new physician, Mr. Gelson, at the wedding?”

“I did. We chatted for a bit. Seems a fine fellow and Parramatta is in need of a good surgeon. He plans to set up an office and apothecary here in town.”

“Lydia seemed quite taken with him, don’t you think?”

Mischief lit John’s eyes. “She did at that. And I’d say he wasn’t at all put off by her.”

“It would be lovely if Lydia could find a noble gent to wed. She so wants to be in love.” She smiled at John. “Like us.”

A frown creased John’s brow. “I feel sorry for Perry, though. He’s smitten with her. He seemed a bit down at the party. I found him outside on his own. When I asked if everything was all right, he told me he was just getting a breath of air. It was more than that, though. I doubt he could stand the sight of the two of them.”

“Perry’s a fine man. I like him. And I wish Lydia felt something more for him than friendship, but she’s told me she doesn’t. She cares for him, but not the way a woman should feel for her husband.”

“I know. I doubt he’d have given up though, at least not until last night.” John rested his arms on the table.

“Lydia wants more than friendship. She wants passion.” Hannah grasped John’s calloused hand and held it between both of hers. “She’s unwilling to settle for less.”

“As I well understand. I refused to settle.” John pressed Hannah’s hands to his lips. “Perhaps David Gelson is a good match for her, eh?”

“Perhaps. And I was thinking Gwen might be right for Perry. She works here on the estate, and she’s a fine person. When I first came here from the Female Factory, she was friendly right from the start. And she’s from prison just as Perry is, as most of us are, and I’m sure wrongly convicted like us.” Hannah set her fork on the plate and took a sip of coffee. “She can be a bit chatty, but she’s delightful and a hard worker. From time to time I’ve seen her watching Perry. She may well be interested in him. Perhaps you could say something to him?”

“I’ll do what I can.” John didn’t sound enthusiastic. “I’d hate for Gwen to get hurt. I doubt Perry will ever feel about any woman the way he does Lydia.”

“That may be, but sometimes practicality must take precedence.”

“I suppose so.” John’s lips turned up in a crooked smile. “I’m glad I wasn’t practical.”

Quiet settled over the couple. They were content just to be together.

It was Hannah who spoke first. “How shall we ever thank Mr. and Mrs. Atherton?”

John shook his head. “We owe them a great deal. Obtaining pardons for us was something I never expected and I’m sure cost them dearly.”

“I want to do something to thank them.”

“In all my life I’ve never met anyone in the aristocracy with such decency and compassion as the Athertons. And I’ve known many in the upper classes.”

Hannah sometimes forgot about John’s past. She’d not known him before his imprisonment. “So, you did quite a bit of business with those of nobility?”

“I did. And in some circles I was considered gentry myself.”

“At our shop, Mum and I met many highborn women. She had a reputation as one of the finest seamstresses in London.” Sorrow touched Hannah. “Mum had few possessions, but she was a fine lady. And she died too young.” She felt the sting of tears. “Even with the snobbish types, she was pleasant, genuinely so. I doubt she had any callousness in her.”

“I’m sorry about your mother. I know how much it hurts to lose one’s parents. At least we have each other.” John took another drink of coffee. “Have you considered what we ought to do now that we’re free?”

“I thought we might stay on here for a while. The Athertons have been good to us. I’m not sure I feel right about leaving them.”

John gazed out the window toward the main house. “I don’t think they’d want us to remain in servitude. They gave us our freedom believing we’d do more. And we can.”

“What is it you want, then?”

“I’ve been considering starting my own farm.”

“You’ve always been a toolmaker.”

“True, but I’ve long wanted to try my hand at something else.” He rubbed his freshly shaven cheek. “In London, just before I was arrested, I dreamed of adventure and of putting my efforts into something new and interesting.” He gazed at her. “This could well be my chance. There’s free land for those who want to work it.”

Hannah reached across the table and grasped John’s hand. “All I need to be content is to be with you. I want whatever you want.”

He gently squeezed her hand. “Together, we can do anything we put our minds to.” The golden glints of color in his eyes blazed. “God has blessed me with a most excellent wife. I think of our future and am inspired.” He smiled. “You’ll make a fine mother. How many children shall we have?”

Hannah’s breakfast suddenly felt heavy in her stomach. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale.”

“I’m fine.” Hannah wasn’t fine. She was afraid. What if there were no children? After all, she’d done a heinous thing. She’d wished for the death of her own child. Such a sin could not go unpunished.

John leaned back in his chair. “I say we should have a half dozen at least.” He grinned. “Three boys and three girls would be just right. They’ll be handsome too. Like their mother.”

Hannah poked at her eggs with her fork. “It’s God’s choice about children, when and how many. We’ll have to wait and see what his plans are for us, eh?” She glanced at John. He’d trusted her and she’d not told him the truth. What if God withheld the blessing of children because of what she’d done? What would she tell him then?

2

A knock sounded at John and Hannah’s door. “Who would come calling this morning?” John asked, his voice tinged with irritation. He didn’t rise, but sipped his coffee instead.

Another timid knock trembled against the door.

John set down his mug and folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll not answer, not on our first morning together.”

“Perhaps we should. What if it’s something important?”

John shook his head and remained seated.

Again, a knock rattled the door. This one was more resolute.

“I’m going to answer it.” Hannah moved to the door. When she opened it, an anxious-looking Perry stood on the porch.

He tipped his head slightly. “Mornin’ to ye. I trust ye had a good night.” His face reddened. “I mean, I hope yer well.”

“I am.” Hannah smiled.

Hands clasped behind his back, Perry shifted from one foot to the other. He looked past her and into the house. “I know this isn’t a good time, but I was wonderin’ if I might have a word with John.”

John stepped to the doorway, protectively circling Hannah’s waist with his right arm and leaning the other against the doorframe. “What’s so important that you come calling the morning after a man’s wedding?”

“Sorry. But I needed to speak with ye.” His eyes darted toward Hannah. “Alone.” His voice was apologetic.

John glanced at Hannah. He didn’t want to leave her, especially not to spend time with Perry. Friendship only went so far.

“You go ahead. I’ve dishes to do,” Hannah said.

John tightened his hold around her waist and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I won’t be long.” He shot Perry a reproachful look, grabbed his hat and settled it on his head, then stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry to bother ye,” Perry said. “But I’ve got to talk to someone and there’s no one else.”

“It better be important.” John shoved his hands into his pockets and walked alongside Perry, who was moving at a quick pace up the drive and toward the river. “Good Lord, Perry, this isn’t a race. What’s got you so agitated?”

Perry slowed his steps. “It’s Lydia,” he blurted. “Did ye see the way she threw herself at that Gelson fellow?”

“I saw no throwing,” John said wryly.

“Every time I looked at her she was talking to him and smiling in that way.”

“What way is that?” John was losing patience. He’d planned to spend the day with Hannah, not with a fretful Perry. The day was heating up quickly. Soon it would be too miserably hot to enjoy much of anything.

“You know . . . ye can tell she’s . . . interested. There are times when she smiles that it looks like she’s lit from inside.” He knit his brows. “And she danced with him more than once.”

John stopped and folded his arms over his chest. Perry kept walking. When he noticed John was no longer beside him, Perry stopped and looked back, then turned and faced his friend.

John studied him. “What do you think I can do about how Lydia feels? I’ve no influence over her.”

“No. But ye might say something to Gelson. Tell him Lydia’s partial to me.”

“Is that the truth?”

“I don’t know. We’re fine friends. It could be.”

“You know it’s not true.” John looked into the branches of a tree where a redheaded bird with a yellow chest fluffed its feathers while making a terrible racket. “You’re beginning to sound like one of the blooming birds ’round here.” He softened his tone. “You’re no more than friends. And what would you have had Lydia do at the party? She’s friendly. It’s her way.”

“You think that’s all it was?”

John considered lying to Perry. He wanted to end the conversation and return to Hannah. Instead he posed another question. “Would it have suited you if she’d talked to no one? Just stood aside and watched everyone else have a good time?”

Perry dug a toe into the dirt. “No. Course not.”

“Well then, I’d say you need to let Lydia be herself, and you need to stop worrying and meddling.”

“But she was battin’ her eyes, and then Gelson would say something and she’d laugh.” Perry rubbed at his patchy beard. “She’s partial to him. I can see it.” He looked at John in a way that said, “Tell me I’m imagining things.”

John clapped a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “Don’t trouble yourself so. It was just a party. And a good one, I might add—my wedding.” He grinned. “Which reminds me . . . I have a bride waiting for me.”

Perry shook his head and paced back and forth in front of John as if he’d not heard John’s reference to Hannah. “Ye know how I feel ’bout her. She’s the only one for me.”

“I know.” John felt a touch of guilt at his own selfishness. His closest friend was hurting and all he could think about was that he was being put out. “Sometimes the people we love don’t return the sentiment, at least not the way we want them to.” John glanced up at the simmering morning sun. It was moving higher into the sky. He resumed walking. He knew Lydia was about to break Perry’s heart, and he wished there were some way to lessen the hurt, but there truly was nothing he could do. “Lydia’s kindly disposed toward you.”

“That’s not enough.”

“You can’t make her love you. I wish it was in my power to change her heart, but I can’t.” He grasped Perry’s arm. “The two of you are quite good friends. Enjoy that. And be thankful for it.”