Storm of Love by Helen Susan Swift

Author:Helen Susan Swift [Swift, Helen Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liaison - A Next Chapter Imprint
Published: 2020-01-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Dundee, May 1827

With my last hope for Kenny extinguished, I ran through Dundee’s streets until sense overtook my passion. What was I upset over? Two silly men agreed to a contest; nobody ever asked if I agreed to be a prize. Well, then, let them make fools of themselves for I wanted no part in it. Kenny evidently preferred the beautiful Barbara to me, while Baird? I struggled to find something negative to think about Baird, except for his proposing the contest. That was surely enough, I told myself angrily, and then remembered how he had paid our arrears of rent.

Washing my face at a public well, I slowed down to compose myself before arriving home. I had no desire to further upset Mother’s nerves by appearing unhappy. Taking a deep breath, I composed myself, squared my shoulders and walked up the close to our house.

“Catriona!” Mother was at her customary place at the table. “How was the race?”

“It was interesting,” I said, acutely aware of the minister’s presence opposite mother. I had forgotten Reverend Grieve would be in the house. “Although it was hardly the right thing to do on the Sabbath.”

“Well said,” the minister said approvingly. “Your mother has been telling me about your misadventures, Miss Easson.”

Unsure what else to do, I bobbed in a curtsey to him. I find that a curtsey is a useful device in most situations. It allows me a few moments to think of an appropriate response and allows everybody else to believe that I am respectful and polite.

“It has been an interesting few days, Minister.”

“My name is Mr Grieve,” the minister said, “or Reverend Grieve if you prefer.” He had stood up when I entered, so I motioned him to sit down again.

“Who won the race?” Mother asked.

“Mr Baird MacGillivray,” I said. “Mr Fairweather lost an oar.”

“He lost an oar? Kenneth Fairweather lost an oar?” Mother was astonished. “How on earth did he manage to lose an oar?”

“I wondered that myself.” I did not wish to voice my suspicions in case I further damaged Mother’s nerves.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways to show his disapproval of people’s actions on the Sabbath,” Mr Grieve said.

When Mother smiled, I was surprised at such a rare occurrence.

“You are right, Mr Grieve. It must have been the Lord’s work.” Mother said. “He is telling you something, Catriona.”

“What is He telling me?”

“Perhaps he is guiding you towards a better choice of man,” Mother said. “You don’t wish to be married to a seagoing man.”

“Why not, pray?” Mr Grieve asked. “I believe that you and Mr Kenneth Fairweather have had an arrangement for some time.”

I had to bite my tongue then, for fear of saying too much and upsetting Mother. “There is an arrangement.”

“I have always found Mr Fairweather to be the most honest of men and a member of a God-fearing and decent family,” Mr Grieve said. “I believe he would be the best of husbands in that respect.” He gave a small smile. “Perhaps he is not as loquacious as some.

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