“You were promised to marry your cousin,” she said, giving the matter a dismissive shrug. “William and I decided it was for the best, which is why he never openly declared his feelings and asked for your hand in marriage, though it nearly killed him to give you up to another man. I guess it was easier for me, since I never wanted to marry you. Not that you aren’t pretty or charming enough, I just prefer someone who can fill out a pair of breeches.”
“Oh, Nora,” I laughed. “How am I supposed to be depressed with you around?”
“That’s the point,” she said, softly patting my hand. “Now don’t worry anymore about William. His heart will mend once he finds another pretty girl to adore. For the time being, I just need to keep him away from Phoebe Trumble. The last thing my family needs is to have William disowned for running off with a Presbyterian.”
“He would never marry her!” I cried, mortified by the idea. Phoebe was without question the most beautiful creature in town. She also happened to be the most conniving and not a proper match for someone like William.
“You know what she’s like,” Nora said. “Fluttering her eyes and making those sweet faces until every boy in the room is half-mad in love with her. I think the only thing that has saved my brother so far was his unrequited love for you. Now you’re safely out of the way there’s no telling what could happen. Anyway, enough about William, I want to hear everything about Henry. Is it true he looks like a Greek god?”
“Who told you that?”
“No one will tell me anything,” she huffed. “The ladies are so concerned with offending my virginal ears that I’ve had to start listening at doors to get anything good.”
“And what have you heard?” I had grown increasingly anxious as to what the upright ladies of Hopewell were saying behind my back.
“That you two are sleeping in separate rooms,” she said nonchalantly.
I should have guessed. “And what is their opinion of my sleeping arrangements?”
“There are two distinctive camps, so far as I can tell,” she started. “My mother, Anne Boyle and Susanna Appleton think you and Henry just need some time to get comfortable with each other and then the rest will come naturally. Martha Oswald, Betsy Trumble and Rachel Dowling, on the other hand, say you need to stop beating around the bush and get the deed done. Last I heard, they’re still deciding who’s going to take you aside and make sure you know what goes where.”
“I feared that was coming. Have there been any volunteers?” It would be nice to know which ladies to avoid.
“Martha Oswald offered, but Anne vetoed the idea, saying that Martha’s bluntness would only cause more harm than good, and quite possibly put you off from Henry for the next year.”
“For heaven’s sake,” I said, rolling my eyes. “As if I haven’t already delivered a dozen babies since my mother died.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, her own irritation evident. “Someone would have to be a simpleton indeed not to figure out how the little ones were made in the first place. But it so pleases the ladies to think we’ve been adequately sheltered and still believe babies grow of their own accord. Why ruin the happy delusion? When the time comes for the designated one to bestow her wifely wisdom, just blush and nod as though you’ve never imagined such a thing in your life.”
“And what do you think?” I asked. Not that it mattered, but I wanted to know my best friend’s opinion. “Should I wait or just get the deed done?”
“Well, that depends,” she said, looking truly contemplative. “Does he really look like a Greek god?”
We both started laughing so hard that we collapsed back against the sofa. But after some more prodding and in an attempt not to overly bias her opinion or have her think me a braggart by proclaiming him the handsomest man I had ever laid eyes upon, I finally admitted that Henry was tolerable enough and not entirely without physical advantage. Nora then insisted on hearing every minute of my journey to Philadelphia, from the moment the carriage left Brighmor until I returned with my cousin. For the most part, I obliged, only leaving out the part about Henry being an indentured servant and the real reason Dirk Fletcher and his band of miscreants had attacked us on the way home. At the end of my story, she declared Henry a true hero for saving my life while simultaneously ridding the world of evil.