Page 27 of The Lady of Red River Valley (Ladies of the Wilderness #2)

Chapter Eleven

I t was a strange experience to sit in the sunshine at Fort Douglas, on a wooden bench, while guards stood in the lookout towers and patrolled the stockade.

William preached with passion and conviction, but even his stirring words could not prevent Eleanor from thinking about the advancing trouble.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fragrance of warm earth and budding plants, in hopes of quelling the anxiety.

William had requested the Sunday service be held out of doors after the long and tiring winter.

Eleanor was thankful for the opportunity to bask in the sunlight, though it was a struggle to get Miriam to keep her bonnet over her fair curls.

The baby was spirited and full of curiosity, and it took all of Eleanor’s patience and energy to keep her safe.

She pulled herself up to standing on a regular basis and Eleanor was quite sure she would be walking before her first birthday.

“Just as Christ was buried for three days, and then rose again to new life,” William said, “so too do we rise to new life when we confess our sins and ask for forgiveness. The Bible is filled with stories of rebirth and new beginnings. We are constantly reminded to die to our old selves and pick up our cross to follow Christ.”

Arran stood on the edge of the group, his musket on his shoulder, his eyes roaming the stockade, while coming back to rest on William from time to time. Eleanor had an unhindered view of Arran and could look upon him without turning her head or drawing attention.

She marveled at how much he had changed—but then chided herself, realizing he hadn’t changed at all.

She had simply come to know him better, altering some of her preconceived notions and opinions.

In doing so, he had grown more attractive in her eyes.

He had stolen her heart at St. Mary’s Isle, but it was in the Red River Valley where she had given it to him freely.

He held it now, no matter how much he tried to push her away.

She knew he was doing it because he loved her, too, and it only made her long for him more.

Arran’s gaze landed on hers and she did not feel embarrassed or shy away from the intensity in his eyes.

“Let us bow our heads in prayer,” William said, drawing Eleanor’s attention back to the minister.

She bowed her head, but her mind wandered as William prayed. Miriam squirmed in her arms, pulling the bonnet on her head. Eleanor patiently removed her chubby little hands from the strings and bounced the child on her legs to keep her occupied for a few moments longer.

“Amen,” William said when he was done.

The congregation, numbering over a hundred, rose from their benches, filling the air with murmured conversations.

Nicolette did not speak to anyone but quietly walked toward the governor’s house, where she would prepare lunch.

Eleanor should join her, but she hated to leave the sunshine, and she wanted Miriam to use as much energy outdoors before taking her back into the confines of the house.

Setting the baby on her feet, Miriam held herself up using the bench and walked along it, making her soft baby sounds in preparation for words.

“She will be walking soon.” William approached, his Bible clasped in his hands. He wore his long, black robe and white cravat. He made a handsome minister, with his kind blue eyes and confident shoulders.

Eleanor smiled and nodded, turning her gaze back to Miriam. “She favors Anne more and more.”

William took a seat on the bench in front of Eleanor, though he faced her and his daughter. The others had begun to disperse, returning to their tents within the large stockade, or, if they had ignored Arran’s wishes, to their homes in Colony Gardens.

For a moment, Arran remained where he was standing, his gaze on Eleanor and William. The expression on his face was unreadable as he caught Eleanor’s eye. But then he turned and walked to the opposite end of the fort and disappeared around the main hall.

“It pleases me that she looks like Anne,” William said. “I had thought the reminder of her would be too difficult to bear, but I’m beginning to think it will offer me comfort as she ages.”

Warmth filled Eleanor’s chest at his words. “That makes me very happy.”

“Does it?” William studied Eleanor. “I like making you happy.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, so she simply smiled.

They continued to watch Miriam waddle around the bench, smacking the top as she went.

“I’ve come to a decision.” William’s voice was tentative, as if he was taking his time with his words. “I believe it will be best for Miriam to return to England.”

Eleanor stared at William, her heart pumping wildly. “You’re going to send her away?”

How would she live without Miriam? The baby had been with her every day of her life. Eleanor could not have loved her more if she had been her own flesh and blood. She had not even allowed herself to think about being separated.

William watched Eleanor carefully, concern and compassion in his gaze.

“I have prayed about my decision and have decided to take her there myself when Governor Semple leaves in the coming days. I never had intentions of staying in Assiniboia permanently. When I felt God calling me away, I planned to go. And now the time has come.”

Tears began to form in Eleanor’s eyes and she could not stop them from falling. Embarrassed, she turned from William and wiped them away with her gloved fingers.

William reached inside his robes and removed a white handkerchief, which he gently extended to Eleanor. His voice was soft as he spoke. “I’m sorry to share this so unexpectedly. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

She tried to pull her emotions together as she nodded. “Where will you go in England?”

“There are many villages in need of a vicar. I am hoping for a quiet little hamlet where I can raise Miriam in safety.”

Eleanor used the handkerchief to dab at the tears on her cheeks.

She could almost see Miriam in a little country village, growing more and more beautiful through the years.

If her emerging personality was any indication, she would be a strong, vibrant, and passionate young woman.

The thought of not seeing her ever again was too much for Eleanor to bear and the tears began to fall again.

“Eleanor.” William moved from the bench he was on and came to sit beside her.

He did not sit too close, but he did turn to face her.

His eyes were as blue as the sky overhead, and full of emotions she couldn’t begin to identify.

“I do not wish to return to England alone, or to raise Miriam on my own. She needs a mother and—” He swallowed. “I desire a wife.”

The fort began to fade around her as she comprehended his intentions and her stomach filled with nerves.

“I have grown to care for you very much,” he said, a smile in his eyes.

“And I know Miriam loves you as if you were her mother. You would honor both of us if you would become my wife and return to England by our sides. I know I do not deserve you, and I cannot pretend that you care for me the way I care for you, but I would hope that in time we might grow to love one another very much.”

Eleanor didn’t know what to say or how to respond. His declaration was such a surprise, she hadn’t prepared herself to answer him. “I—”

Miriam took a giant step away from the bench and tumbled to the dirt. Her cries filled the air around them and Eleanor leapt to her feet to pull the little girl into her arms. Dirt smudged Miriam’s chin, and a small scratch produced a spot of blood.

William also rose and came to Eleanor’s side. He gently took the handkerchief from Eleanor’s hand and used it to carefully remove the dirt and blood from Miriam’s chin.

The baby cried and nuzzled her face into Eleanor’s shoulder. Eleanor bounced her in her arms and patted her back, whispering soothing words.

Eventually, Miriam stopped crying, but she kept her cheek on Eleanor’s shoulder, her eyes drooping with fatigue.

“She’ll need to have her lunch and then go down for her afternoon nap,” Eleanor told William.

“Perhaps we can speak later?” he asked her. “I had the luxury of time to think and pray before I spoke to you. I know you will need the same.”

She nodded.

“Governor Semple will be leaving soon,” William warned. “I do not wish to rush you, but I will need an answer within a day or two. If you agree to marry me, it will have to be done at York Factory, where there is another minister.”

There were so many emotions swirling in Eleanor’s heart, she didn’t know where to set her thoughts. All she could do was offer William a wobbly smile.

They started back toward the governor’s house, but she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the lookout tower where Arran had been spending most of his time. He was there now, facing the prairie, his back straight and his chin high.

If he truly thought it was best for her to leave the colony, she would have no other recourse than to marry William. The minister was offering her a good life, and more importantly, she could raise Miriam as her own.

If it had not been for Arran, she would have said yes to William already. Being his wife would not be an unpleasant existence.

But it would not be the marriage her heart longed for, nor the life she wanted to live.

A flash of lightning, followed by the distant sound of thunder, reverberated through the governor’s house and into Eleanor’s aching chest. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and stared at the empty page of her journal, the tears dripping silently down her face.

There were no words to write that could convey the depth of her anguish over the idea of losing Miriam.

The baby had become her daughter. In every way that mattered, Eleanor had become her mother.

She could not fathom the grief she would endure if Miriam was taken from her.