“I’m sorry, they left quite some time ago,” Maud said, ignoring how much Mr. Mustard was sweating.
“All right, dear, I’ll go see if I can catch them.” And she fluttered away.
Then there was silence. Dreadful silence. Even Bruce’s tiny snores failed to shatter the ghastly hush.
Finally, after another interminable stretch of speechlessness, Mr. Mustard said, “Miss Montgomery, I know that sometimes young women are told to deny a man’s attentions so they don’t appear”—sniff—“forward.”
Maud stood up, rocking Bruce so her former teacher wouldn’t see her shaking. “I assure you, Mr. Mustard, that is not what is happening here.” She regained her composure and sat back down, at the far end of the couch. Shifting Bruce to the other shoulder, she took the opportunity to sit as tall as she could. “I’m completely sincere in my refusal of your proposal. I thank you and wish you a good evening.”
Perhaps finally understanding that he had lost, Mr. Mustard stood up, straightened his jacket, sniffed, and stretched out his hand. As Maud literally had her hands full with the baby, he retracted it. “I…truly…hope…you aren’t…offended by my question, Miss Montgomery. I certainly don’t wish to have any…misunderstandings between us.”
“Of course not, Mr. Mustard.” Maud put on her most winning smile, walking him to the door. Soon this excruciating evening would be over.
“Good night, then,” he said.
“Good night,” she said, practically slamming the door behind him. She cooed to Bruce, “Here’s to that being the last of him.”
—
That Sunday, there was another church picnic at Maiden Lake. Will gave Maud a bag of penny candies and they walked quietly through the asters, bluebells, and daisies. He picked a bouquet of flowers and pinned them to her dress. They then found a quiet place under a grove of trees and, with their backs against a poplar, leaned comfortably into each other. It felt so right to be together, and Maud found herself wishing he would propose to her because then she might say yes and stay with him. But with only this summer to be together, she wanted to enjoy her time with him without the talk of marriage complicating things.
At first she had wanted to tell Will about Mr. Mustard’s proposal, but she hadn’t the nerve. She thought if she didn’t talk about it, perhaps that meant it never happened. But she hated to keep things from Will. She had seen what happened when she hid things from those she loved, so she gave him the full account of what Mr. Mustard had said and how she responded. Even now she couldn’t get that piece of yellow yarn out of her mind.
“Has he called again?” Will asked when she was done.
“No,” she said. “Thank goodness.”
Will held her hand. “I swear to you, Maud, if he tries to do this to you again, I will whip him myself.”
“Will—” Maud laughed, she was so surprised. “That won’t be necessary.”
He let go of her hand. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to be this—” He broke off. “I suppose I’m a little jealous. If anyone was going to propose to you, it was going to be me.” Maud’s heartbeat quickened, and for once, she couldn’t find any words at all.
She was aware of his warm breath against her skin, and as she turned her head, he took her face in his hands. He slowly kissed her cheek, her mouth. She returned his kiss. They had kissed before, but this was different. A passion that scared her so much she had to pull away. Her body was hot, and she took a moment to catch her breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said and took her hand, and Maud resisted the urge to pull him back into a kiss. They stood up and continued walking.
“What you said…if things were different…”
His sigh was different now. “Maybe we should take a page from Laura’s book and believe in Providence. Who knows what He has planned?” Will kissed her hand, and she caressed his cheek.
Hope was something Maud had practically forgotten about, but when she returned home that night, she pressed the bouquet Will had given her into her scrapbook.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A week later, Maud was all ready to go to Laurel Hill. As promised, Will would drive her and had planned a surprise stop along the way. No manner of pressing would persuade him to tell her what it was.
After leaving Sunday School, Will and Maud headed for Eglintoune Villa, and as they got closer, they noticed someone sitting on a porch chair. She stiffened.
It was Mr. Mustard.
Will offered his arm and she took it. “Don’t get any ideas, Will,” she whispered, remembering his threat at Maiden Lake.
“Only if he doesn’t,” Will muttered.
As they strode over to their old teacher, Maud caught the outline of her stepmother’s shadow through the upstairs window. No doubt she was behind this, putting him—and her—through this one last ordeal.
Mr. Mustard stood. “I came to say goodbye, Miss Montgomery. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Maud,” Will stressed her first name, making it clear to the teacher who her suitor was, “is doubtless grateful for your consideration.”
“Indeed I am. Thank you, Mr. Mustard,” she said. “I wish you luck in Ontario. Now, Mr. Pritchard and I have a journey of our own ahead of us, so if you will excuse us.”
After a dreadfully long silence, in which Maud was keenly aware of some rustling behind the upstairs curtains, Mr. Mustard fumbled with his hat, and mumbled some excuse of his own she didn’t quite hear—nor did she care to!—and shuffled away.
From inside the house, Maud heard a door slam shut. That was one fence that would probably never be mended, she thought.
After Maud got her bag, Will drove her out of town and she forgot all about disappointed relatives and bumbling suitors and focused on the bluffs and the poplar trees. They rode in silence, content in the quiet of being together. Maud took the opportunity of being so close to Will to memorize his profile, fixing it firmly in her memory so she would still have it in her mind’s eye in a few months. The long eyelashes over those keen green eyes, his lips, the way his hands grasped the reins. Even though the buggy was covered, she felt quite warm. When she looked back over at Will, he quickly turned away, as if she had caught him staring at her.
“Are you going to tell me your surprise?” she asked.
He put his finger to his lips. A little farther on, they stopped at the grove of trees near Maiden Lake where the church picnic had been the week before. He came around to her side of the buggy and helped her down. His hand was warm, and Maud kept a hold of it as they walked. When they came to a muddy patch, Will helped her across, stepping around it and guiding her through. They came to a spot where four trees bent and curved back on each other. Will undid his jacket and laid it out for her so she could sit down.
“Why are we here?” she asked.