Dropping the bucket of horse feed, she ran to the young girl. She was too late to keep her from getting injured, but she was in time to keep her from dying. Tears ran down Annie’s face as she held her leg. Blood covered her leg and hands, and Joanna had to run to the house to set her down.

  Tearing her apron, she created a bandage for Annie.

  “Hold that tight, Annie. I am going to go settle the cows.” Joanna spoke in a calm voice. “Can you do that?” Annie managed a nod, sniffling. “I’ll be back in as soon as possible.”

  With that, she hurried back out to the pasture. It was midday, and the sun shone bright. The cows had not gotten far; there was a river on this side of the property that she had not noticed before.

  She quickly began to herd the cows to the best of her ability. The fence would be easy to repair with they had, and she was able to do both things.

  It took her half an hour to herd the cows back to the pen. Whatever had spooked them had only spooked them long enough to break two panels of the fence, and send them to the river for a drink. Maybe it was simply too warm for these cows today.

  Whatever it was, she would have to keep Annie away from the cows for a few days. She wouldn’t be able to stand alone for that long, anyway; she knew that kind of injury. During her days on the farm in Massachusetts, she had been trampled too. She had not been able to stand for a week, if she remembered correctly. It did not matter either way; she had been fired.

  “Miss Caison!” Mr. Partridge’s voice called out as she was fixing the cow pen. She soothed the cows quickly before looking over. How long had she been out here?

  “Is Annie alright?” She stood, pulling the rope tight.

  “Better than she was when I returned. What happened?” He seemed upset with her, more so than he had been the day before.

  “She was feeding the goats, and something spooked the cows. I was feeding the horses and tried to warn her. She did not listen, and I dropped everything to get her to safety. I could not get to her before the cows ran, but I got to her before they could kill her.” She did not try to sugarcoat what had happened. “You may not have the money you need to keep this place afloat, but I think it’s safe to say you should sell the cows.”

  “Thank you, Miss Caison.” He nodded curtly. “I do not need a woman telling me my business. We are set to be married in exactly a seven-day from today. You have six days to tell me if you are staying or not; you will be married in your best dress if you decide to stay. If you leave, I will tell Annie everything.”

  “She is smarter than you think she is, Mr. Partridge.” Joanna kept a curt, cold tone. “She figured out how to measure out feed for the horses after seeing me measure for the goats, and she heard our argument last night.” She then turned to the fence again.

  “You will need a wooden board.”

  “You do not have one.” She pulled the rope again. The rope turned taught in her hands. She began to tie it off. “It will do long enough to sell the cows, Mr. Partridge, before someone else gets hurt.”

  He did not respond.

  Chapter 8

  After the incident in the field, Mr. Partridge did not make her take Annie out to the field again. Instead, he told her to keep her inside but keep her entertained. He would take care of the animals now.

  So, Joanna sat on Annie’s little bed. Annie was sitting up, her injured leg stretched out.

  “Did you know they were going to run?” Annie sounded more curious than upset. It had only happened yesterday, but all she was upset about was that her uncle was not letting her help feed the animals the next day.

  “I tried to warn you, Annie.” She sighed. “I am sorry I could not warn you in time.”

  “Jojo, I do not hate you now.” The young girl put a hand to her arm. “I did not hear you yell at me.” At this description of what she had done, she laughed.

  “I only yelled because I was so far away.”

  “I know.” She smiled, despite the pain she must’ve been in. “Jojo…are you going to stay?”

  The topic she dreaded came up, again. Annie could not seem to let it go.

  “I am staying at least six days. If I will stay and be married to him, I do not know.”

  “Have you read your bible recently?” The young girl bent over, and picked up a bible from the floor. “Can I share a scripture?”

  “I have never read the bible.” Joanna sheepishly admitted this. “I do not own one, but you can share a scripture with me.” The little girl smiled, and began to flip through the bible. When she got to a certain page, she stopped.

  “Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven; Luke, chapter six, verse thirty-seven.” Annie read her the scripture. “Please forgive Uncle Walt.” Then she began to plead with her. “I know he would not lie unless he had a good reason. I do not want to see you go too.”

  “I am going to go get you some lunch.” Joanna felt rather uncomfortable, but knew that she should forgive Mr. Partridge. However, he was currently out of the house, and would not take kindly to seeing her leave Annie in the house alone with such a bad injury.

  So, she walked out of the room to make some pasta. There were still ingredients leftover from the first day she had helped Annie with the animals. She began to squish the tomatoes for the sauce as she thought.

  How could she finish the six days if Mr. Partridge kept her at arm’s length? Was he more concerned about keeping Annie’s company than his own at this point, and considered her a nanny? She would rather be a nanny than his wife at this point, but she was not going to say that in front of Annie. She really liked her, and was trying her best to convince her to stay.

  She had to give Annie credit. She had not thought an eleven-year-old girl would keep her interested in the job. Even when Mr. Partridge had seemed to lose interest in the idea, he seemed to care for Annie more than he had when she arrived.

  She began to mix the ingredients to make the noodles as the tomato paste simmered on the stove. The fire in the oven was too small at the moment to make it effective, but it would get bigger in a few moments. She had taken great care to make sure all the vents were open.

  As she mixed, she thought about how to help Annie while she was in bed. Mr. Partridge had had a doctor look over her, and the doctor had said she needed to stay off her feet for at least a seven-day.

  Her eyes landed on the bucket she had been using for water runs. Annie’s hair could use a washing, and she still had at least half the little bottle of lavender oil. Maybe she would make the little girl feel special and wash her hair with lavender oil. She was not sure if Annie even liked lavender, but it was the only oil she had.

  She finished making the noodles, and began to heat some water to boil them. The sauce needed a stir, and she managed to find a wooden spoon to stir with. However, her thoughts wandered to what they would do after money ran out. She could loan herself out as a washing maid; that would make good money. No one liked doing laundry work.

  She could cook as well, which would also get good pay. What the other two could do, she was not sure. Annie could feed animals when her leg had healed, but that would take a few months. Mr. Partridge did not have good business skills at all, but he could take care of a farm.

  Sighing, she returned to focusing on the meal she was making. The sauce needed spices. The noodles were cooking. There was simply too much to do to think about anything else.

  She added some spices to the sauce; Mr. Partridge was well stocked with them. Cumin, oregano, basil, and coriander were only a few of the spices he had. There was even some garlic in the cabinet. He had a loaf of bread on the counter that was going to go bad soon.

  She put two and two together and decided to make garlic bread. With a little help from the stove, she melted some butter and made a garlic spread. She found a bread knife in a drawer, and rinsed it off in the sink full of soapy water. With a quick wipe on the dry rag, she had a clean knife.

  Now, she sliced the bread open and began to spread her garlic spread over the bread. She was half done when the kitchen back door opened, startling her.

  “I did not realize you were making lunch.” Mr. Partridge’s voice came into the room. “I was going to make some, but since you are…”

  “Mr. Partridge, wait.” She turned around, setting the garlic and butter bowl on the counter. He turned back to her, looking very genuinely curious.

  “Yes, Miss Caison?”

  “What did you mean when you said you could show me that you were telling the truth about not knowing until you had sent out the ad?” She rubbed her hands off on her apron.

  “I have bills that I can show you. Can we do this after Annie goes to sleep?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” With that, Mr. Partridge returned outside. This would be very interesting to see.

  ***

  As the sun set, Joanna watched Annie. She had fallen asleep, but she was making sure she was sound asleep.

  Once she was sure, she softly left the room, and shut the door behind her. Mr. Partridge had told her to meet him in the dining room, so that they could be close to Annie’s room without being overheard if she woke up.

  So, she began to walk to the dining room. However, she returned to her room first. She had washed Annie’s hair after lunch, and she had had no problems having lavender oil in her hair. So her room smelled faintly of lavender.

  She put the lavender oil bottle back on the shelf, and took her apron off. For a few precious moments, she was alone with her thoughts.

  And then she remembered that she had yet to read the letter from Sheila. Knowing Mr. Partridge would not mind if she took time to read it, she sat on her bed and opened the letter.

  Dear Jo,

  I do not know if this letter will arrive before or after you do. However, I do know that you will receive it and keep what I am about to tell you in greatest confidence.

  My husband, a man by the name of Edmund Walters, knew your parents. He told me of the night they died, a night you have told me of before. However, I wish to tell you what he has told me. They worked for Partridge Textile, the company which Mr. Walter Partridge runs.

  One of the facilities was set on fire while they were there. They were not there as workers; instead, they were getting ready to form a business deal with Mr. Partridge’s father. Mr. Partridge was also there.

  This business arrangement, Mr. Walters has told me, would have been a betrothal. I did not know such things still existed; they would have betrothed you and Mr. Partridge. I do not know much more than that; he would not tell me more.

  I do not know if Mr. Partridge is even aware. Mr. Walters has asked that you do tell Mr. Partridge this story; it may prove to be somewhat helpful in getting the job.

  Your dearest,

  Sheila.

  Joanna could not help a light gasp. Her parents knew his?

  More questions ran through her head. Why did not they tell her they were going to betroth her? Why had not they let her know that she should not be looking for a husband, in case the deal went through?

  She shook her head, trying to keep it clear. Maybe there would be more to this than Sheila had told her. Maybe Mr. Partridge did know about the betrothal, but had chosen not to tell her in case they were incompatible. After all, their parents were dead; they could annul it now.

  Her stomach churned. These new developments made her want to pack up and leave even more. How dare her parents try to tell her who to marry, even years after their deaths?

  Then her thoughts returned to Annie. If she left, who would look after her? At the moment, all Mr. Partridge was paying her was bed and board. She doubted other women would work as a nanny for him for so little. Annie’s attitude made her even more dubious that other women might succeed; she had only done so after promising to cook something for her, and helping her through everything.

  How many other women had such capacities? How many other women could get through that shell? Who could offer her the ideas and the patience that were needed to deal with her?

  Joanna’s head spun with these new thoughts. At this point, she was unsure if she would even make it out to the dining room; she was afraid she would trip and make a commotion if she tried to walk. There was too much to think about to narrow down to one or two general ideas.

  She took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. These issues wouldn’t go away if she did not talk about them. Despite it taking some courage, she resolved to tell Mr. Partridge of her new knowledge, and ask what he thought and knew about it.

  With this resolution made, she folded the letter up and put it in her apron pocket. She put the apron back on, not trusting herself to go into the dining room without it now. She could play with its hem under the table without looking weird.

  She took a deep breath again. It would be now or never, and she certainly hoped that Mr. Partridge did not intend to make her go through with the proposed betrothal if the parents had not been able to come to an agreement.

  With this resolved, she stood up from the bed. She took the walk to the dining room slowly, careful not to make noise. If she woke Annie up, she was sure that she wouldn’t go back to bed until the two made up; she could be very stubborn at times, and Joanna believed this would be one of them.

  All she could do now was walk to the dining room, and hope that Mr. Partridge had yet to show up; it’d give her more time to think over what she would say to him about the betrothal and the job offer.

  Chapter 9

  Unfortunately for her, Mr. Partridge had already arrived at the dining room by the time she got there.

  “I was just about to check on you.” He was standing up, hands on the table. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes. I read the letter from Sheila is all.”

  “You had not read it yet?” He furrowed his brow. She nodded. “What did it say?”

  “You may want to sit down before I tell you what she wrote.” As she spoke, she walked to the dining room table. Mr. Partridge motioned for her to sit down, and she took a seat at one of the chairs across the table from him. He sat down once she was sitting.

  “What did she say?” He repeated the question. It took her a moment to figure out what to say.

  She decided to simply read him the passage from the letter. Pulling it out of her apron pocket, she noticed how shaky her hands were. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

  She read the passage again, this time aloud. The entire time, she kept her eyes on the paper. She was not sure what scared her more: the idea that they would have been betrothed, or how Mr. Partridge would react.

  When she finished reading it, she slowly lowered the paper from in front of her face. Mr. Partridge had a hand to his chin, and he was deep in thought. It was silent for a few moments as he scrunched his mouth into a deep frown.

  “I did not realize you were the same Joanna Caison the paper spoke of; I know what you are talking about.” At this, he rose, and bade her to follow him. She did so, holding the letter from Sheila tightly in her hands. “I also know Mr. Walters; he is a good friend of mine. You will be seeing your friend again very soon. He is coming here for a business trip, and I have offered the guest room to him. He will arrive after the wedding.”

  “Are you going to make me go through with the betrothal?” She could not help but ask. There was something to the tone of his voice that made her think that she was not going to get out of it.

  “Not unless you want to go through with it.” At this, he walked into his room. She hesitated to enter, but he motioned her forward. After this permission was given, she walked into his room. She had not entered it on the tour, but had seen his bed.

  Like the guest room and Annie’s room, his bedroom was small, but big enough to fit the bed and a vanity. There was also a rocking chair off to the side, worn out and well loved. He had a bathroom attached to his room, but there was no running water – a luxury very few could afford.

  He got down to his knees and pulled a box out from under the bed. After opening the box, he pulled out a file. He stood up, and then handed this file to her. She opened it without a word; inside, the betrothal document met her eyes. Her parents’ signatures were there, as were his parents’. His signature was also on the paper. The only one missing was hers.

  “It is not official and legal until you sign it. If you go through with the marriage, I will consider it a fulfillment of the job offer unless you sign the betrothal papers. Either way, I still wish to keep it a marriage of convenience.” Mr. Partridge spoke softly and coolly, as if he was expecting her to lash out at him.

  “I will not sign this document. Only love would entice me to marry if I had the financial standing.” She handed him the file again. He nodded, and put it away. “Thank you, for giving me the freedom to choose.”

  “I was told to sign it when I was of thirteen years of age. I did not realize what it was until my father passed away.” Mr. Partridge sighed. “There was no way to contact you and so I let it go as a business deal that would never be fulfilled and that would not be worth trying to close.”

  “I see.” She kept her response short. “Now, those bills?”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” He dug in the box again and pulled out a stack of envelopes. Within the stack, he dug for a specific envelope. When he found it, he handed it to her. “That is the first bill I received.”

  She opened the envelope and looked at the date on the letter. It was dated one day before she had found the ad.

  “When did you put the ad out?” She had to ask the question; simply because he had received this before she saw the ad didn’t mean anything.

  “I put it out the day before, and here is the invoice from the papers to prove it.” He produced several small slips of paper, each with the date before the letter’s stamped on them.

  “I guess you did not have the money, as you told me when we fought, to change the ad.”

  “Even if I had, I would have been too late to change it. Everyone else was turned away by the fact that I could not pay them what I originally promised.” Mr. Partridge sighed, and sat on the bed. “I understand if you still do not wish to continue the job after this. However, I ask that you will continue to take care of Annie while you look for another job or for the money to return to Massachusetts. In return, I will provide you bed and board, and a salary as I can afford it.”

 

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