Shannon Farrington - The Reluctant Bridegroom

The older man’s face lined with disappointment. “You won’t get to the state capital by shaking hands and talking about your war record. You can’t tell all those grieving fathers that while their sons were bleeding on the battlefield, you were floating well above it.”

Henry resented the inference. He was no coward. He had done his duty with his military service. He had served as honorably as any other veteran. While it was true he’d never made a valiant charge, his service as an aeronaut in the balloon corps, scouting the positions of the rebel army, was just as valuable—and within artillery range, just like any other man.

“You didn’t want me serving in the first place,” Henry said, “and now you think I wasn’t brave enough?”

“It isn’t a matter of what I think. It’s what the voters will think.”

Henry was just about to respond to the mocking comment when footsteps in the hall caught his attention. The door to the study suddenly burst open. In flew his four-year-old niece, Kathleen. Her face was red and tear streaked. Henry was fairly certain of the cause of her distress. Since coming into his home, she had cried repeatedly for her departed mother.

Kathleen froze upon sight of her grandfather, instantly sensing she was unwelcome. Henry went to her immediately. True, his life had been turned upside down with the arrival of her and her sister, but the last thing he wanted was for his niece to feel unwanted. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?” he asked as he bent to her level.

Kathleen’s chin quivered. “I want Mama.”

Henry’s heart broke for her. “I know you do.” He pulled her close, gently patted her back. As he did so, he could feel his father’s disapproving gaze.

Henry wasn’t certain if it was because the man thought such displays of affection were improper or if, deep down, he resented the fact that Marianne had chosen Henry to be her children’s guardian and not her own father.

Hannah—his cook, and now temporary governess—came into the room. In her arms was a tiny blanketed bundle, Kathleen’s little sister, eight-week-old baby Grace.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Henry,” Hannah said. “She got away from me while I was feeding the baby.”

“It’s all right, Hannah. Tell me, have you any spice cake left?”

“I do.”

“Then I believe this young lady would benefit from a slice.” His niece looked up at him, eyes still cloudy with tears. “Go with Hannah, pretty girl. I’ll be by directly to see that you are settled.”

Kathleen slowly took Hannah’s hand and turned from the room. Henry watched them go. He was thankful the ploy of sweets had worked. He wasn’t certain what he would have done if it hadn’t. But such measures will work for only so long.

“And there’s another reason,” his father said when the little girl had left the room.

“Another reason for what?”

“To wed Van der Geld’s daughter.”

Henry sighed. “Father, if I want help with my nieces, I’ll hire a suitable governess.”

“A governess isn’t going to get you to the statehouse.”

Henry shook his head, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not going to discuss this any further. I will speak to Van der Geld myself, tell him I want nothing to do with this.”

This time his father grinned, but Henry knew full well it was not an expression of joy. “You go right ahead, son,” the man said. “Do it your way. I’ll be here when you change your mind.”

Henry wanted to give a snappish reply, but he held his tongue. He is my father. He deserves my respect if for no other reason than that.

Leaving the study, Henry went to the kitchen. Kathleen was pale, but at least the tears had dried. Hannah had her at the table, a slice of spice cake in front of her. His cook kneaded bread dough for the evening meal.

How the woman managed, Henry was not certain. Surely she must be exhausted. He was, after all. It had taken him only forty-eight hours trying to manage glass feeding bottles and complicated rubber tubes before becoming so. To make matters worse, Grace cried incessantly and refused to take milk from the contraption.

Wise in the ways of motherhood, Hannah had abandoned the tube and metal mouthpiece for a soft rag. Grace sucked milk out of the bottle from that. It was messy and still somewhat cumbersome, but at least it worked. The goat’s milk temporarily soothed the baby’s stomach, but her heart was another matter. Hannah’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Sadie, sat at the table beside Kathleen. She was steadily rocking Grace, trying to quiet her tears.

Henry sighed. Hannah must have heard him. “Don’t you fret, Mr. Henry,” she said with an expression akin to pity. “It won’t always be this way.”

How I hope she is right. For all our sakes. “We’ll think of something,” he promised her. “I’ll find us help.”

“The good Lord will see to all our needs,” Hannah said. “We just gotta trust Him.” She punched down her dough. “You goin’ out on business today?”

“I’m afraid I must. There is a matter to attend.”

“You gonna visit folks, too?”

She meant his constituents. From time to time he called on returning veterans, local merchants and others to see how they were faring. Most citizens welcomed him, and even those who were wary of public servants usually warmed once he heard their complaints.

“Yes, but I won’t be gone long.” He cast another glance at Kathleen. She was poking her cake with her fork.

“Like I said,” Hannah replied, “don’t you fret. We’re gonna be just fine. You go on and do what you planned.”

Henry drew in a breath. How appreciative he was of the woman, of her assistance and understanding. “Thank you, Hannah.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Henry.”

Leaving the house, Henry headed off to put the matter with Theodore Van der Geld and his daughter to rest. While traveling to the stately home, he went over in his mind what he would say. Henry didn’t know whether or not Miss Van der Geld had been told of the arrangement. He certainly hoped she hadn’t.

If she had, he seriously doubted she would be heartbroken by the change of plans. Still, Henry wanted to be gentle. She may not like the idea of a union with a virtual stranger any more than I, but I am still refusing her, and no one likes to feel unwanted...

Henry knew firsthand the misery such feelings could bring. While his mother, Eleanor, had married his father for love, believing he felt the same, it soon became apparent that Harold Nash had been interested only in her social standing and family fortune. When Henry’s mother realized this, the life drained out of her. She had died on Henry’s fifteenth birthday. Marianne had been twelve.

Were it not for his interest in public service, Henry doubted he’d have much of a relationship with his father, if any. He did his best to honor the man as Scripture commanded, but he refused to be like him, especially when it came to selecting a wife.

Henry believed in love. For him, marriage was a lifelong commitment of mutual respect and affection, not an opportunity to advance one’s political career. He wasn’t going to court a woman until he was certain he was prepared to give her his heart.

Arriving at the Van der Geld house, he knocked upon the front door. An Irish maidservant answered, only to inform him that the state delegate was not home.

For a moment, Henry was tempted to ask for the daughter but decided that would be unwise. If she did know of the marriage proposal, requesting to speak with her without her father’s presence would paint him as a much too eager suitor.

And if she does not yet know, there is no reason to trouble her.

He handed the maid his calling card. Henry didn’t like leaving matters like this. Miss Van der Geld was liable to get hurt.