Page 16 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

“Hold on tight, girls. Steepest part’s comin’ up,” Pa called over his shoulder.

Lizbeth held tight to the shuddering sideboard.

Wooden wheels rattled over the bridge then wound upward.

The wagon ambled past a whitewashed gate and into the churchyard.

The church on the hill , it was fondly called.

Curious since the quaint white chapel with its peaked roof and small bell tower was the only one to be found in New River.

Lizbeth watched as the wagon jostled and bumped over the familiar road, rattling her sisters’ bonnets and the laces on their freshly polished shoes.

Just ahead, the church building stood out bright and cheerful against the foggy dawn.

Beside her, Lacey yawned, Maryanne perused the pages of the hymnal she always borrowed, and Jayne’s cheeks flushed healthy again.

Callum Brydolf’s fine coat—as smooth and golden as a fawn’s hide—sat folded in her lap, all clean and pressed with care.

Their loyal mule, Sassafras, pulled the wagon into the churchyard.

Lizbeth might have helped Pa hitch her beloved Eugene to the wagon each Sunday, but the poor fellow got skittish when in town, so back at the farm he stayed.

A peaceful way to pass a Sunday morning with his affinity for watching the big, clear sky.

Pa parked beside other wagons and climbed down, then helped Ma down from the wagon seat. “Here, girls.” One by one, he helped each of them climb over the sideboard.

“I don’t mind hoppin’ out on my own.” Kit eased one foot onto the wagon wheel.

“Nonsense.” Ma smoothed her silver-speckled bun. “With Reverend Coburn scheduled to arrive this week, you may as well practice behaving ladylike.”

Lizbeth allowed her pa to help her down.

Just beyond, the churchyard stirred with miners and their families—each soul knowing all the others by name and all the tombstones by heart.

Folks who had celebrated weddings and funerals and everything in between together in this very churchyard.

Today, instead of pickaxes and dynamite, men held the hands of their wives, age-old Bibles, and infants on strong arms.

“Are my curls wiltin’?” Lacey fretted as she scuttled ahead of Lizbeth and Jayne.

Jayne set Mr. Brydolf’s coat on the pew beside her. “Your hair looks perfect.”

Lacey straightened the cloth ribbon that held her rag-made curls over one shoulder.

With her own hair bound up in a ribbon, Lizbeth tidied a loose tendril as she trailed her sisters up the front steps.

They each shook the minister’s hand then squeezed into the same pew they always shared.

Here, she could keep sight of the pulpit along with a generous view of rolling hills through the window as both were good for the soul.

“How I loathe a two-hour sermon.” Lacey smoothed her skirt.

“Try to think of it as a time to be grounded amid life’s uncertainties,” Maryanne said.

Lizbeth settled back between Lacey and Jayne. “Well said.” She tilted her face toward the sun’s glow where it brightened the windows.

Lacey rolled her eyes.

From her end of the pew, Ma’s sideways glance silenced them all.

Lizbeth closed her eyes, scarcely noticing the creak of a door opening.

Nor the hushed wave of murmurs building once it closed.

Little whispers filtered through the surrounding pews followed by the quiet thud of two pairs of boots down the center aisle. The footsteps halted beside them.

A soft, heady cologne made her think of the woods on a sunny day. Lizbeth dared a peek ahead and met with the sight of Mr. Drake’s back as he entered the pew in front of her.

He squared his stance, adjusted his black coat, and sat. After tugging off a woolen cap, he righted his cropped brown hair then bowed his head along with the rest of the congregation. Startled, Lizbeth closed her eyes and listened to the minister beseech the Lord for guidance and grace.

She braved one more peek, this time at Jayne who, with flushed cheeks, may have also spared a glance to Mr. Brydolf, sitting at Mr. Drake’s side.

Lizbeth squeezed her sister’s fingertips.

Jayne squeezed back. Perhaps they shared the prayer between them for Jayne’s guidance.

A beseeching that Lizbeth trusted the minister would add an amen to.

A blessing to guide Jayne and her heart.

Lizbeth stood for the first hymn and with Mr. Drake in front of her, she had to strain to see the pulpit now.

Jayne lifted a tattered hymnal from the seat and after she fumbled several times to find hymn 119, Lizbeth offered to take the book from her.

The song was “Abide with Me,” which they knew well, so often had they sung it within these walls.

Lizbeth clutched the hymnal to her simple blouse and sang.

Jayne followed suit. Around them, half the town struggled to read, so most men sang by heart, along with their wives beside them.

In front of them, Mr. Drake’s shoulders were still as the landscape, but Mr. Brydolf belted out the words in a curious pitch.

He sang happily and Lizbeth, among others, cast him a quizzical glance.

Folks around seemed pleased to have such noble gentlemen in their numbers.

Not because it signified any meaning in status, but because the newcomers felt comfortable enough to join them on this glad morning.

Through song and Scripture, the service swept on and Lizbeth savored the rest and refreshment, surprised when her gaze kept returning to the steely posture of Mr. Drake in front of her.

She cleared her throat. Too many times, perhaps, based on the knowing smile Jayne slid her.

Lizbeth ignored it. When the service came to an end, people rose and spilled down the aisle, and Mr. Brydolf turned toward Jayne.

“Good day, Miss Bennet.”

Jayne dipped her head. “And to you, Mr. Brydolf. I wanted to thank you again for sharing your coat the other day.” She offered it back to him. “It was awfully kind.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome to borrow it again anytime you feel the least bit chilled.”

Lizbeth bit back her own smile.

Mr. Drake angled their way and offered a polite nod to them both, his gaze scarcely crossing Lizbeth’s in passing. “Good morning.”

“And to you as well,” Lizbeth answered stiffly.

Mr. Brydolf chatted easily with Jayne, inquiring about the age of the building and what the weather was often like this time of year.

As he spoke, the warmth in his countenance said more than his humble queries did.

It was as though he hoped Jayne might see as well and understand that he spoke to her not out of necessity but out of desire.

Lizbeth’s cheeks warmed at the thought.

Nearby, Mr. Drake dropped his gaze to the floor, raised it to the pointed ceiling, then returned it to Mr. Brydolf, who chatted on.

He didn’t look as annoyed as usual which was a curiosity in itself.

Suddenly, his attention landed on Lizbeth’s hands, then rose to her face where he focused on her for several steady seconds. He finally blinked away.

Perhaps she shouldn’t tarry. Lizbeth rose. “If you’ll excuse me. A good day to you gentlemen. Jayne, take your time. I’ll be in the churchyard.”

Once outside, Lizbeth wove through the crowd, finally reaching the aged fence where a soft breeze hit her face.

The mine dwelled so far in the distance that its shape could scarcely be seen.

Instead, miles upon miles of open pasture and rolling woodlands stretched far and wide. Lizbeth breathed in deeply.

Hattie scurried over, wool shoulder cape stirring in the breeze.

“Lizzy! I rushed over soon as I could get away from the neighbor women’s questions.

Why Hattie Jorgensen, how have you not settled down with a man of your own yet?

and the like.” Hattie placed a hand to her narrow cheek.

“But none of that now. I hear you got all kinds of news.”

“If you count Pa’s cousin comin’ soon, then yes.”

“Well, don’t let those ladies know or they’ll be pesterin’ you from dawn ’til dusk.” Hattie put extra vinegar in her voice to match that of a busybody. “Now Lizbeth Bennet, when do you plan on settlin’ down?”

Lizbeth had no time to respond.

“And oh!” Hattie touched her sleeve. “Tell me about Jayne and this new fella. How long do you think he’ll be stayin’? I can’t help but notice how taken he is with her. Ma mentioned how long he’s been talkin’ with her. They’re both still inside and they’ll soon be the last ones left!”

Lizbeth glanced that way again.

“But what of this Reverend Coburn? Ma made mention of him as well.”

“The minister? He’s comin’ to stay for a few weeks. Pa hasn’t told me much else. I don’t know where he’s gonna sleep—we have no spare rooms, and Pa wants to make him feel welcome. The younger girls might bunk with Jayne and me to free up a room.”

“That’s what I want to tell you.” Hattie led Lizbeth to walk the length of the churchyard with her. “Your folks spoke with mine and your fancy minister is gonna stay in our spare bedroom while he’s here. My folks don’t mind a smidge. The man ain’t yet married, I hear.”

Lizbeth propped hands to hips. “How do you know so much?”

“You know how much our mas talk.” Hattie winked. “And as for Jayne, she’s so pretty, it’s no wonder she’s caught Mr. Brydolf’s eye. I’ve hardly travelled in my life, but it’s hard to imagine a young woman as fine as your sister.”

“It’s more than that.” Lizbeth cast a glance over her shoulder. “Jayne’s graceful and good. I think that’s what’s caught the man’s attention as well.”

“I daresay you’re right.” Hattie’s own face, narrow and angled, didn’t speak of beauty, but her heart was kind and her mind sharp. “But oh, that other man, Mr. Drake.” Hattie pulled her cape snugger. “I’ve never seen such a glum man—”

Kit and Lacey raced over to them in a flurry of skirts and trailing bonnets.

“Lizzy! Have you heard?” Lacey panted. Despite the chill of the morning, her cheeks blossomed pink. “Mr. Brydolf’s invited us all to see the private train car and its library. Shelves and shelves of books I hear. They’ve asked us to tea as well! This coming Saturday!”

Lizbeth’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure you heard right?”

“It was just Jayne who told us. Mr. Brydolf invited her himself, along with us as well. It sounds like even Mr. Drake’ll be there which’ll be rather dismal but we won’t complain about that.

He is terribly handsome. And so very rich!

Did you see his fine posture? Like a brick tower.

” Lacey fanned her face. “Though I reckon he’s like that all the time. ”

“And here I thought you were bored,” Lizbeth countered.

Rising onto the toes of her boots, Lacey searched the crowded churchyard. “Jayne’s somewhere ’round here lookin’ for you to explain it all.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Hattie’s close-set eyes looked as stunned as Lizbeth felt.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Lizbeth admitted. To think of it. They were invited to Mr. Drake’s beautiful train in less than a week’s time? “The library?”

“Oh, Lizzy, how can you care that much about books?” Lacey threw up both hands.

“It’s that big old train that you oughta be pinin’ after.

How splendid it’ll be inside. We’ll have to wear our best dresses.

” Lacey fussed with the limp folds of her plain brown skirt.

“How I wish I had somethin’ nicer than this old Sunday dress. ”

Hattie touched Lacey’s arm. “Your dress is perfect.”

Lacey smirked, easily swayed by vanity. “Well, I s’pose it don’t matter all that much. What a time it’ll be!” She skipped off, pulling Kit with her.

“And what of you, Lizzy?” Hattie’s question lay gently placed. “Will you join them?”

“I suppose I will. It’d be a rare chance to see so many books. And I do think that Mr. Brydolf sat in front of Jayne on purpose.” She smiled.

Even as she said the words, Mr. Drake and Mr. Brydolf passed by, deep in conversation. For the briefest of moments, Mr. Drake’s focus caught hold of Lizbeth’s own. Just as quick, he made a study of his boots as he walked.

Lizbeth shrugged, never quite sure what to make of the quiet man.

The air once again held the scent of woodlands and spice from his skin. A reminder of wealth so grand, she couldn’t begin to fathom it.

“Yes, books.” Hattie smirked. “Which I hear belong to Mr. Drake . That sure is awful generous of him.”

Lizbeth shooed the implications away. “None of that now.”

Hattie chuckled as they faced the view of the distant pastures again. “To think, Lizzy. You’re gonna get to see all the books he’s collected over the years.”

“Indeed. I’ll look forward to it,” she said sternly.

Which only made Hattie smile more. “Oh, Lizzy. Just make peace with the notion.”

“What notion?”

“That Mr. Brydolf might not be the only man who chose his seat on purpose.”

Lizbeth rolled her eyes.

“See it this way now. The pair of you nearly danced, have strolled together twice already, and enjoy a number of the same things.”

Heat warmed her cheeks. “What does that mean?”

Hattie grinned. “It means that one of these days, you might actually have to like William Drake.”