Page 55 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

“I’m hopin’ this won’t be too hot.” Ma carried a bowl of sudsy water out onto the farmhouse stoop. “To think that the pair of you spent this whole day in a stock car comin’ home.”

“That was my idea,” Lizbeth confessed from her perch.

Ma offered the bowl to William, who sat on the edge of the raised herb bed, boots squared and back straight, but still covered in so much dust and bits of straw that he’d declined Ma’s invitation to please come in and rest himself.

His leather shoulder holster and pistol sat discarded beside him. “I didn’t mind.” He accepted the bowl in dirty hands. “Thank you, ma’am.” His eyes lifted nearly to Lizbeth in the graying light of day, before lowering again.

She understood. How to even begin?

With simple things. With clean, hot water and two rags. Easier than other matters needing to be discussed and unraveled. Lizbeth swiped her hands on the sides of her skirt, but it was as covered in hay and soot as the rest of her.

Ma handed her a second bowl. “For you, Lizzy.” She smiled. “I’ve got fresh bread with a pot of beans simmerin’ along with some stewed berries that Lizzy canned this summer. I’ll have it all served up real soon, so don’t you two take too long.”

“Well, if it’s anything like her hand pies...” William said.

Ma beamed.

“Thank you, Ma.” The bowl of water was warm to the touch as Lizbeth balanced it on her lap.

The wet rag soothed her fingertips as she wrung it out. Much easier to focus on this than on the man beside her who was busy doing the same.

Beyond them, a low New River sunset spoke the sweetness that she didn’t know how to.

William rubbed the rag up one of his forearms. Water dripped, in gray rivulets like the earth during a storm.

He scrubbed again, this time finding his skin.

As he turned his wrist, wiping away the day’s work, his gaze found hers.

She swallowed a rising strain. There was so much to say.

Such longing within her that words weren’t to be found.

He looked just as conflicted as he swiped at his neck with the rag, dampening his shirt collar and capturing all of Lizbeth’s attention again.

He studied the soiled cloth as though it, too, were easier to try and make sense of.

Uncertain, Lizbeth rose so quickly that water sloshed over the side of the bowl, dampening her apron. “I’ll just go and see how Eugene is faring. I saw some marks on his neck from the tether.”

William nodded as she peeled away from the stoop, as desperate to flee as she was to stay. Striding off, she tried to appear sure, despite her collapsing confidence.

A little time in the field would cool her senses.

Haze stretched in the distance as she started for the pasture, and the sky bloomed pink.

At the fence line, Lizbeth pushed the bowl beneath it before climbing over.

Eugene roamed in his favorite clover patch, brown coat shuddering as two birds flew too close to his tail.

He swished them away, here with this new taste of freedom.

Lizbeth found her feet again, not minding the lengthy walk to reach him.

“Thatta boy.” She smoothed her hand along the side of his neck, swiping at the lingering traces of his travels. Water trickled as she rinsed the rag. At the sound of footsteps, she turned to see William approaching.

Her hands stilled.

Tall, dried grasses rose nearly to her knees, but he traversed the field with ease, as though he too had stood in pastures all his life.

At the fence, he climbed over and as he walked, all his focus was upon her.

William crammed his hands into his pants’ pockets.

Here she stood, nearly in the same spot where they’d last spoken together on this farm.

She’d been angered by his actions. No, by her misconceptions.

Her lack of clarity and really, her prejudice against him.

To her shame.

Since the night they’d first met in the hoist barn, surrounded by fiddle music and spiced cider, she’d assumed him arrogant and reclusive.

Now she knew him differently. He was quiet, yes, but when he spoke—when he acted —profound purpose lived within him.

He stated half of what other men did which only deepened his intention. Had she only recognized that sooner.

A soft breeze stirred her hair, chilling her damp fingers as she twisted the rag again. Lizbeth pressed it to Eugene’s neck once more as William neared. He joined her in the middle of the field where the farmhouse stood far in the distance.

“I hope it’s all right that no one can see us here,” he said.

Us . The word soft and making it impossible for her to turn away.

Something about him had altered her. It was different from the type of affection she’d always thought would be a bubbly feeling in her middle.

How different this was. It was the sight of him in her mind more often than not.

It was her recalling the few words they’d shared as small treasures to be stored away.

It was a respect for him as a person, and a longing for him as a friend and a man. For as long as possible.

She now knew she loved him.

The bowl in her hands trembled. Silence filled the space between them along with the ripple of birdsong. She watched as William considered first the house, then her again. Needing to busy herself, Lizbeth worked around to Eugene’s other side.

“How is he faring?” William asked without following.

“He looks quite well.” She patted Eugene’s shoulder with the rag, brushing away more dust and debris. She must look a fright herself yet William observed her as though she were anything but. “I owe you so much gratitude. We all do.”

“Please don’t think twice about it.”

Her heart thumped harder and he stared at the ground as though having an arguing match with it.

“Pa and I can come up with a way to pay you back.”

“It’s not necessary.” He reached out and brushed a hand to Eugene’s burly side. “In fact, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She lifted her eyes, just seeing him over the ridgeline of the mule between them.

“Do you remember when we were in Stroudsburg and you showed me the sampler you were making? You were going to try and sell it to the shop across from the depot.”

“Yes. I managed to.”

“Right.” William dug through his pocket. “Well, it’s—it’s been purchased. A little higher than the asking price which, after a few words with the shop owner, increased your commission.”

Gingerly, she came around again to see him better.

“And because of that, I have a slip here from the shop owner, with an advance on your next piece.”

“An advance? That’s—that’s not possible.”

William unfolded the envelope. “I wanted to give you this sooner, but I decided to wait until now. I didn’t want to risk you trying to use this for Eugene, when I think it may be better suited for your pa.”

Tears burned her eyes and she accepted his offering. After glimpsing the check inside, she gasped. “I don’t understand. This is enough...” Her chest burned. She didn’t know hope could feel like this.

He looked at her as though longing to swipe her tears away. “For the farm’s debt? Hopefully, the rest of it.”

Chin trembling, she nodded. “But how?”

“Because your next piece has already been acquired.”

“Acquired? By who?”

“By me.”

She blinked up at him. “And the first?”

“That’s in my possession as well. I thought to make a gift of it. In parting. A mark of friendship and continued peace. If you’d allow that?”

“We truly are friends now.” Wonder filled her voice.

“If possible. At the very least, that is.”

Hope stirred again inside her. “And at the most?”

William glanced away from her. At the softening sky.

To the bowl of filthy water she’d set at her feet.

Finally to her hands, which she clasped in front of her, the rag forgotten.

He was crushing his own cloth still. Part of her wanted to liberate it from such a grip, but she was too overcome to know what he meant to say.

“We spoke here some months past.” His voice was soft but sure.

“Yes.”

“And I hope I don’t act out of turn when I say this.” Another step toward her. As sure as the others had been. “But I must state that I have thought of none but you. Even still.” His focus on her face was earnest. “If you would consider, once more, if you would accept my hand.”

This man was offering himself once more... to her?

“Your hand?” Lizbeth touched fingertips to her mouth as emotions threatened to spill. She squeezed her eyes tight, then wiped the tears away. There were many reasons she intended to forgive Lacey, one being that she herself was being forgiven in this very moment. Perhaps long ago.

Warmth flooded her as Lizbeth looked up at William again. His own manner was hopeful. “I—I want to understand you,” she whispered. “After the way I treated you.”

“Right.” Then, “More plainly,” he muttered to himself.

“Perhaps this...” William stepped closer and reached for her hand, taking it securely in his just as he had when he’d guided her onto the train the evening before.

“I offer you both my heart, which is already yours, and my love, if you will have it.”

It was a gallop now, the beating in her chest. His thumb grazed the back of her knuckles. Warm and right. A tender caress and one that she sensed was only the beginning.

“And I ask if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife, Lizbeth Bennet.”

If it was a quiet love she was accepting from William Drake, one of whispered sentiments, soft touches, and stolen glances, then it would be all the more satisfying. One she yearned for from him and no other.

He lowered his face so that their foreheads nearly touched. Such tenderness in his eyes. Such peace. A look she wanted to know all her life. “Would you—would you be agreed to this? To me asking your pa for your hand?” he asked.

Wind stirred the short locks of his hair as he straightened again. The same breeze twirled her own. She scarcely thought of him as a wealthy coal baron, nor herself as a poor girl from coal country in a straw-speckled apron. She only thought of him as her own.

“In marriage,” he added as though unsure if he’d been quite clear enough.

Lizbeth held tighter to the hands wrapped around her own. “I—I would like that very much.” Her place was beside him, now and in the years to come.

His shoulders rose, eyes alight. He lifted their entwined fingers to his chest, which was beating as hard as hers. William smiled.

“Lizzy! Mr. Drake!” Ma called from the house. “Supper’s on!”

Lizbeth let out a little laugh.

But William’s eyes were unwavering. “I’ll go now and speak to your pa, then.”

Her smile matched his. “And I’ll go with you. At least as far as I’m able.”

He took her hand again with a freedom that sent a rush of warm chills through her.

As they walked back toward the house, his fingers grazed hers in the tenderest of ways.

Delicate touches that held more meaning than she had ever thought was possible between her and a man.

A soft sweetness and a mere taste of all that was to come.

What was once a distant hope was now right and filling her in ways she’d never imagined.

This was a hand—solid and warm—that she needed to hold and would now have the joy of doing so all her days.

He glanced at her, and she at him. Many times, as they shared smiles and even a blush or two. Suddenly, they both stopped, her stammering, “I forgot the bowl!” and him sliding a hand to the side of her hair, asking, “Might I kiss you now?”

All to the music of the door bursting open and Lacey running into the yard, followed by Ma and Jayne in pursuit.

“Oh, Lizzy! I’m so terribly sorry!” Lacey cried.

William lowered his hand but stayed just as near.

“I was terribly wrong to have done what I did, and Ma and Pa have already lit into me but you can, too, if you’d like to.

” Lacey clutched her apron theatrically.

“If you’ll forgive me, I promise I’ll make amends.

I just promise. They’re makin’ me do extra chores to earn back the money for Eugene so that I can pay everyone back.

Oh, Lizzy, it’ll take years! And West, don’t you worry one bit about him.

It’ll all work out and he’ll come back around and Pa’ll like him just as much as he likes Callum and maybe even your—” She peered up at William as though forgetting his name.

“William Drake” came his stern reply.

Lacey prattled on. Ma tried to shush her, and Jayne covered a teary smile as Callum stood behind her, resting a hand to her shoulder.

A ring now glinted on Jayne’s finger.

Kit and Maryanne peeked around the doorjamb as though to see if they were to witness another engagement in the span of a single day.

Amidst all of it, Lizbeth smiled and, taking William’s hand in her own, followed her family back into the warm house, feeling the graze of William’s kiss to the top of her head.

Lizbeth’s eyes fluttered closed as she savored what was just the beginning.

She squeezed his hand tighter and he squeezed back, for finally, the man beside her was William in her heart and for all her future. Just her William.