When I Fall in Love Page 4

  Thoughts went round and round in her mind as she scrubbed mismatched bowls and chipped plates with a torn rag and lye soap. The more she thought about her situation the harder she scrubbed, removing layers of dried on beans and scorched beef from cast iron pots and frying pans. Her hands stung and her back ached, but she refused to quit until every plate and utensil had been scrubbed clean.

  Eventually, sparkling wet dishes covered the table. When the last dish and pot were finally dried and placed in an old cabinet or returned to a wall shelf, Nancy turned her attention to the soiled walls before she would allow her weary body to give up on the enormous task.

  She washed down walls and pulled the worn kitchen curtains off their rods. They smelled of smoke and needed to be laundered, so she tucked them into the large pot sitting atop the stove. She’d seen their maid Clara soak items in a pot of hot water before scrubbing them and hanging them on the clothesline behind their greenhouse. It seemed like something Nancy could manage as well. But she was not attempting to start another fire to heat water. She would have to wait for Mr. Grayson to build a fire for her.

  Sunlight outside the window dwindled and peepers started singing as she finished scouring the floor. Her back ached and she felt positively filthy. But scrubbing what could become her own kitchen gave Nancy a surprisingly wonderful sense of accomplishment. Tending a home felt good – and hurt so bad.

  Releasing a weary sigh, Nancy dropped the thick rag in the bucket of dirty water, got to her feet and propped her hands on her waist. Arching backward, she stretched and rolled her tight neck. She had planned to do this to please Mr. Grayson and convince him that he needed a wife... that he needed her, because she desperately needed him. Instead, she’d merely convinced herself that being the mistress of a house without a staff would take a lot more skill than she possessed. Still, she liked the challenge of learning to build fires and cook meals and turn this messy house into a home. If she could manage all that, would Hal Grayson see her as more than a burden?

  A knock at the front door startled Nancy from her reverie. She pressed her raw hands to her hair. Her chignon had fallen out hours ago. She’d been so busy that she’d simply gathered her mass of hair and tucked it away from her face with a few pins. Her dress was wet and badly soiled. Perspiration speckled her face and damped her underarms. Her hands... her sore, aching hands, were reddened and dirty. She was a disheveled mess!

  Another knock at the door, louder this time, followed by a female voice calling out “Mr. Grayson. It’s Mary Tucker and I’ve brought a basket for you.”

  Fretting, Nancy crossed the unkempt parlor, stepping over strewn clothes and linens, attempting to avoid the clumps of dried mud that had been tracked through the house. That would be something she would change immediately.

  She hesitated in the foyer, uncertain what to do. She didn’t want to be seen in such a state. And it would be presumptuous to answer the door as if it was her home, but it seemed terribly rude to be present and ignore such a warm greeting. After another few seconds of thought, Nancy squared her shoulders and took the final steps across the foyer, knowing she would seal her fate the instant she opened the door. If Hal Grayson didn’t want her answering his door, he shouldn’t have brought her to his home or left her alone. With that in mind, she opened the heavy oak panel and presented her unkempt self to the women standing on the other side.

  Two lovely ladies with matching expressions of surprise stood on the stoop staring at her. Their lips moved as if they wanted to speak, but neither of them said a word.

  “May I be of assistance?” Nancy asked, feeling a little speechless herself. She patted a hand over her unruly hair and then adjusted her stained and soiled dress. She never would have greeted guests at home in her current state. At home she’d have never found herself in her current state. Yet, here she was in this small home in Fredonia, ridiculously disheveled, greeting two proper ladies. Face burning, Nancy tucked her chapped hands in the pockets of her dress.

  A pretty lady with black hair tucked beneath a fashionable hat patted the handle of a brown wicker hamper hanging from her arm. “We brought Mr. Grayson his evening meal, but perhaps we’re being presumptuous and possibly intrusive as well. We didn’t know he had company.” The woman pressed her gloved hand to her chest. “We have yet to make an acquaintance although if I’m not mistaken I believe I saw you and Mr. Grayson pass by our home day before yesterday. I’m Mary Tucker and I live with my husband William just there across the orchard,” she said, gesturing to a white two-story house with a lovely large porch. “This is Martha Fiske, and she and her husband Tom are also your neighbors, although they live in the other direction in the large white house where the road curves.”

  Martha, a pretty brunette with rosy cheeks, smiled and cupped a delicious smelling apple pie in her hands. “My daddy used to own this house, but he passed away a few months back. Tom and I were delighted when Hal and John bought the house, although we’re just heartbroken over John’s tragic death. Are you a relative of theirs?”

  Uncertain how to answer, Nancy could only say, “I’m Nancy Tre—Mitchell.”

  When she offered no further explanation the ladies exchanged a quick guarded glance.

  Martha pasted her smile back in place and lifted the pie a few inches. “Well, we’ve been trying to help out Mr. Grayson since his brother’s untimely death. We know the tragedy left him extremely burdened and we hope these small gifts help in some small way.”

  “That’s very generous. I’m certain your gifts will be warmly received and deeply appreciated by Mr. Grayson,” Nancy said, hoping to smooth out the awkward moment. “The pie smells delicious and I’m sure he’ll be very grateful for your visit.”

  Nancy was certainly grateful. There wasn’t a chance of her providing an edible meal for herself or Mr. Grayson this evening. And now that her appetite was finally returning, the thought of a good meal was most welcome.

  The ladies seemed to relax a bit, and Mary hefted the basket on her arm. “This is quite heavy and you won’t be able to manage both the pie and the basket. If you’ll lead the way, I’ll carry it to the kitchen for you,” Mary offered.

  Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d be honored to invite you in to wait for Mr. Grayson, but I’ve not yet finished cleaning and I’m afraid things are still in terrible disarray. I can manage the basket and leave it in the kitchen for Mr. Grayson.”

  “Has he hired you to clean his home then?” Martha asked, her relieved expression giving her away. Apparently she’d seen the inside of the Grayson brothers’ house and its obvious decline since they had taken residence.

  “No, Mrs. Fiske, I’m not hired help. I was John Radford’s intended.” Nancy had merely intended to state a fact, but to her horror her eyes welled up. She was ghastly tired and the knowledge that her life had become a wretched mess simply overwhelmed her.

  “Oh dear! Oh, my...” Martha cast a helpless glance at her friend Mary.

  The genuine sympathy in Mary’s eyes increased Nancy’s emotional struggle. “Gracious, I’m so sorry, ladies.”

  “Why there’s no need at all to apologize, Miss Mitchell. It’s just dreadful and I suspect you could use a woman’s kind ear right now.”

  She could indeed, but she had so many chores awaiting her and it was imperative that the house be in order when Mr. Grayson returned home. Still, in the face of Mary Tucker’s compassion, Nancy gratefully welcomed the women inside.

  “You must be beside yourself with heartache.” Mary slipped her arm around Nancy’s shoulders and escorted her to the freshly scrubbed kitchen. Martha encouraged her to sit while Mary poured fresh brewed tea from a jar that she’d tucked into the hamper.

  While Nancy enjoyed the sweetened tea, Mary and Martha introduced themselves and told Nancy a bit about Fredonia. They told Nancy about the village and where to shop. Mary talked about her garden and her husband’s livery. Mary’s husband William sounded like a rascal who was wildly romantic. After only a few minutes o
f conversation, it was obvious that Mary was deeply in love with her husband. Martha glowed with motherly love as she confessed that she and her husband Tom were expecting their first child. She wanted a girl. Tom wanted a boy. They both anticipated the arrival of their baby with joyful hearts.

  The mention of children made Nancy’s heartbeat flutter. She knew when she’d accepted John Grayson’s offer of marriage that their union would lead to having children. And though the thought of having children was actually pleasant, her lack of knowledge about the intimate side of marriage put knots in her stomach.

  “Gracious, I hadn’t meant to go on so,” Martha said, her smile a bit sheepish.

  “I’m enjoying getting to know you ladies and to share in your excitement, Martha,” Nancy said, honestly. “I want to hear every detail.” And she did because perhaps it would help her learn a bit about marriage.

  But before Martha could comment, Mary lifted her nose and sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke? I smelled it in the parlor and I’m sure I smell in here now and again. I hope nothing dangerous is brewing.”

  “Goodness, I hope not!” Martha paused and lifted her nose. “I only smell soap and sunshine.” She angled a smile at Nancy. “If this is the room you’ve been cleaning today it smells lovely.”

  “Thank you,” Nancy said, but she hung her head. “I made a mess in the firebox yesterday morning. I thought I might try to make breakfast for Mr. Grayson. All I managed to do was smoke up the house and make him angry.”

  Both women gaped at her. “Are you staying here?” Mary asked, her voice filled with concern rather than censure.

  Nancy nodded. “When Mr. Grayson met me at the train depot, I was without funds or other options. I hadn’t been informed of John Grayson’s death. I couldn’t go back because... I had no other options and so Mr. Grayson brought me home with him.”

  Mary seemed both confused and sympathetic. “Do you have anyone with you? A sibling? Your mother? A chaperone perhaps?”

  Nancy shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I had come intending to marry John Grayson immediately. The situation was quite unconventional with Mr. Grayson, Hal Grayson that is. We were uncertain what to do with the predicament we found ourselves in. I hadn’t a better solution and so he brought me here.”

  Mary and Martha exchanged a shocked glance that didn’t require words to be understood. Their eyes, one pair green as emeralds the other forget-me-not blue, were filled with concern, pity, and... outrage?

  “Miss Mitchell, it’s certainly not my place to meddle, however I simply must speak woman-to-woman,” Mary said. She sank gracefully onto the chair beside Nancy. “I understand that your plans have gone awry and that you were likely at ends with what to do when you learned about your intended, but I fear you’ve unwittingly compromised your reputation by staying here. I can’t be the only one who saw you and Mr. Grayson riding through town alone together when you arrived.” She met Nancy’s eyes without flinching. “Before this can become a problem for either of you, may I suggest that you stay with William and me until you decide what to do?”

  “You will be welcome in my home as well,” Martha added, her voice warm and sincere.

  Nancy wanted to throw herself in their arms and accept their generous invitations. She wanted to escape her problems and Mr. Grayson’s displeasure, but she couldn’t. If her father found her, and he would find her, he would haul her home and force her to abide by the marriage contract he’d arranged with Stuart Newmaine — one year of courtship followed by marriage. The only way to escape one marriage was to enter another. Hal Grayson was her only hope at the moment. “Thank you, ladies, but I’m afraid we were seen at the station and also by several folks in town, some of whom greeted Mr. Grayson by name as we traveled here.”

  Pity filled Mary’s expression. “Oh, dear...” She sat back with a sigh and placed her palms on her knees. “May I ask your age, Nancy?”

  “I’m nearly seventeen,” Nancy said, because seventeen sounded much older than sixteen. She wanted to be friends with these generous ladies, and though they were likely only a few years older than herself, she feared her age would put them off.

  “Is Mr. Grayson apprised of your age?” Mary asked.

  “No.” Nancy shook her head and lowered her lashes. “We haven’t talked much.”

  Mary and Martha exchanged a glance, seeming to offer each other a slight nod of agreement. “There’s only one thing to be done then,” Mary said, but neither woman had an opportunity to share whatever was on their minds because the sound of the door opening told them Hal Grayson was home.

  Nancy’s stomach rolled and she felt breathless for a moment. She and her visitors waited in silence while the sound of Hal’s boot heels thudded across the parlor.

  He appeared in the doorway, dirty and disheveled, rings of exhaustion around his golden-brown eyes. Surprise flashed across his handsome face as he surveyed the clean kitchen and the ladies Nancy was entertaining.

  “Good evening.” He summoned a slight smile and glanced at Nancy. “I see you’ve met my neighbors.”

  “Y-yes,” Nancy said, standing and clenching her hands in front of her. “They brought you supper.”

  He glanced at the basket and pie on the table. “Thank you, ladies.”

  “We were just about to have tea if you’d care to join us,” Nancy said, because she had no idea how to talk to him.

  His attention remained on Martha and Mary. “I’m grateful for your kindness and the delicious meals, ladies. I must, however, decline the invitation as I need to finish sanding several chair spindles to meet my delivery date for Mr. Edwards. You ladies enjoy yourselves, though.”

  Mary Tucker rose to her feet and stood solidly beside Nancy, who was now bracketed by the ladies. “I quite understand that you’re a busy man, Mr. Grayson. Before you leave, though, there is one thing of consequence that we simply must discuss.”

  As if he knew what was on Mary’s mind, Hal’s expression flattened. He nodded for Mary to have her say.

  “Mr. Grayson, we don’t wish to meddle, but I’m afraid we must intervene on behalf of this lovely young gal. She has told us that she’s staying here, with you, unchaperoned.”

  Nancy’s stomach tilted sideways and she thought she might be sick.

  “We understand you’ve both found yourself in an awkward predicament that has compromised both of you,” Mary continued. “But you must know this situation is extremely damaging to Miss Mitchell’s reputation.”

  Hal Grayson was a smart man. Nancy was certain he knew what Mary was driving at and yet he remained silent, saying nothing of Nancy’s stubbornness at the station or his intention of returning her immediately to her father.

  “I’m sorry to press the issue, Mr. Grayson, but you must know that you have compromised Miss Mitchell by bringing her here.”

  “It wasn’t my intent, but yes I understand our situation,” he said, and Nancy detected a weary sigh in his voice.

  They were in this predicament because she’d been obstinate and had appealed to Hal Grayson’s sense of honor. Although she needed to marry to avoid a disastrous arranged marriage with Stuart Newmaine, Nancy realized in that moment she just couldn’t stand by and let Hal Grayson’s neighbors think the worst of him. They were both trapped in an unfortunate situation not of their own making. No matter how desperate Nancy was she couldn’t knowingly trap Hal Grayson. He was a decent man and shouldn’t be responsible for her troubles.

  “Ladies, Mr. Grayson is sleeping in the barn,” she blurted. “I have not been compromised.”

  “I beg to differ,” Mary said, her words gentle and apologetic. “By coming into his home unchaperoned, you have consigned yourself to this man—or to a less respectable life that you surely don’t want to endure.”

  “I’m afraid I must stand with Mary,” Martha said. “I suspect you understand why we’re concerned, Mr. Grayson?”

  “Quite clearly,” Mr. Grayson said, his voice stern.

  Nancy wrung her hands
, realizing she had been foolish and terribly inconsiderate. “Please, ladies, nothing has happened,” she said, suddenly desperate to undo the damage she’d done. She’d been trying not to ruin her sister’s life and to retain some hope of finding a loving marriage. Now she was ruining Hal Grayson’s life. “I should like to avail myself of your generous offer to stay with one of you until I can make other more suitable arrangements? Mr. Grayson is only guilty of being a gentleman. I’ve not been compromised in any manner.”

  “For your benefit, dear, I respectfully disagree,” Mary said.

  “As do I,” said Hal Grayson, his deep, cool voice filling the kitchen.

  Looking into his eyes was like peering into a black cave that hid everything inside. Nancy could only imagine the anger and possibly even hatred he must feel for her.

  He lifted his chin as if facing a herculean task. “I’ll visit Judge Barker immediately and request his presence here at noon tomorrow. May I impose on one of you ladies to give Miss Mitchell proper shelter for the night?”

  “Of course,” Mary said. “And I hope you’ll accept our gesture of goodwill as it was intended and enjoy the chicken dinner and fresh pie we delivered.

  As if seeing the basket for the first time, he nodded. “Thank you for your kindness, ladies.” With that he turned and left the house without a glance or kind word to Nancy.

  “What’s happening?” she looked up at the ladies who had defended her honor as if she were a daughter or sister rather than a near stranger. “Why is he going to bring the judge here? Is he going to ask the judge to send me home? Can he legally do that?”

  Mary sighed and then summoned a light smile. “No, Miss Mitchell. You’re getting married tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Hal should have foreseen this course of action when he brought the headstrong Miss Mitchell into his home. His decision had been impulsive, yes, but he’d felt drawn to help this woman who had been his brother’s intended. He should have taken her to the Tucker’s home as soon as he saw them in their yard. But he hadn’t. And now they were trapped.