Page 22 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow
“The mine? Yes. I went down in the shaft just recently with your Mr. Drake.”
“Oh, he ain’t our Mr. Drake,” Lacey spat. “He’s just friends with some other fella who’s taken a shine to my oldest sister.”
“Lacey!” Lizbeth said sternly.
“It ain’t exactly a secret.” Lacey rolled her eyes. “Whole town can tell.”
Mr. Westgard winked in Lizbeth’s direction as though to commend her for being the more prudent one.
The school bell rang and poor Maryanne made a dash for the door.
Lacey pouted before pasting on a smile. “I really do have to go. Been awfully nice meetin’ you, West!” The girl straightened her smudged slate.
As the bell rang again, Lizbeth caught sight of Reverend Coburn on the shop porch chatting with Jayne, who looked in need of rescuing.
“I’ll leave you all to your browsing.” Mr. Westgard gave a small bow of his head. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I expect we’ll meet again.”
“Will you be in town for long?” Lacey slipped through the door, her rapture now for the tall, dashing miner and not on sashes or lace.
As though tugging gently on a fishing line to ensure the bait had been taken, Mr. Westgard braced the door open for Lacey. “I certainly hope so. Good day, ladies.” His gaze met Lizbeth’s again as more shoppers entered along with the breeze. “Enjoy your tea on the train.”
As he departed, Lizbeth blew out a breath and retreated to join Jayne, who still waited with Reverend Coburn outside.
He touched the brim of his hat when she neared. “Good day.”
“Mornin’.” When had this town ever held such a bustle of social activity?
It was even a struggle to decide where to place herself as Jayne and the man turned, starting back toward home.
With Jayne looking miserable, Lizbeth spared her sister and walked nearest to Reverend Coburn.
She would let nothing derail her sweet sister or encourage the town gossips to insinuate another gentleman had caught Jayne’s eye.
As for Lizbeth, she could sacrifice a morning stroll.
It would cost her nothing. She had no suitors.
No man seeking her hand or heart. Her gaze lifted toward the beauty of the Pemberley and she quickly shook her head.
Not likely. Mr. Drake was here for business alone.
He’d made that perfectly clear. Besides, she was a poor girl from coal country who had her own future to worry about.
A man like William Drake surely had his fair share of women to interest him back home.
It made Callum Brydolf’s attention to Jayne all the more precious.
Beside her, the Reverend cleared his throat with a grating sound. “A fine morning for a walk, wouldn’t you say?”
Lizbeth nodded. “The sunrise was lovely.”
Jayne slid her arm through Lizbeth’s in solidarity.
The man beside them made small talk about the buildings he’d sighted in town, about Mrs. Jorgensen’s fine display of breakfast items and the pleasing angle of his window where he lodged there.
Lizbeth listened to all of it politely, responding as she could, until Reverend Coburn turned the conversation toward her.
He smoothed a hand against one of his matted sideburns. “Tell me, Lizbeth, what sort of future do you imagine for yourself?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Well, I—I—” Did she truly know? “Well, I hope for a life of purpose,” Lizbeth finally blurted. “And I see that in helping my pa run the farm. In helping to provide a good life for my sisters and me. All those who call Bennet Hollow home.”
“Purpose. Good, good. There is much purpose for the women of this world. So much to tend to with hearth and home. Offspring to rear.”
She sensed that the Reverend sought a wife whom he could mold and shape into his own ideal. A woman who would follow him without question. Lizbeth blew out a soft breath. “You offer much to think on, Reverend.”
She had no qualms about the polite gentleman, but he didn’t spark her heart to a new awareness, let alone a building desire or respect.
Instead, her skin prickled with this awkward and strained civility.
That could never be the foundation of a life of love.
Perhaps she would end up a spinster, but she would rather live out her days unwed than bind herself to a man she could not admire.
Did such a man exist? One who could inspire her both in mind and spirit?
A man whose touch she longed for and whose face she ached to see each dawn?
She thought of the eligible bachelors she knew—including the ones she had met of late—and still rust ate at the answer with the same fervor it riddled holes through Pa’s old wheelbarrow.
In the empty spaces bloomed doubt thicker than the cream that Ma churned each week.
Had she already met her match? Or might she hold out prospect for it one day?
She longed to marry, yes, but her roots sank deep into the soil of Bennet Hollow and so this was the place where she needed to carve out a future.
The place where she belonged. A place where she could help her family hold on to this farm and keep it afloat in the seasons to come.
Not because of who she might marry—but for what she might do .
If she could find a way to help this farm prosper alongside Pa, then her future and her sisters’ futures would be secure. Whether love came knocking or not.