“I was thinking about last week and how we”—he cleared his throat—“walked here.” Maud grew warmer at the memory.
“You have your gift of words,” he said, removing a small knife from his jacket pocket. “I have my own talents.”
The leaves whispered as she watched his arm move in deep swift curves, the little knife scraping softly against the ancient bark. He was carving their initials into the tree, starting with the L and moving swiftly to the M.
How was it that the idea of carving one’s initials in a tree was overly romantic—ridiculous, even—but now, watching his arm dance with the tree, it obviously went deeper than some fancy romantic notion? It reminded her of an old tale.
“Do you know the story of Sir Walter Raleigh and Queen Elizabeth?” she asked as his arm swung smoothly, finishing the M. He blew on the tree and flakes of bark fell.
“I know he was one of her suitors and a loyal soldier,” he said, wiping the knife off and adding an ampersand.
“She had given him a diamond ring as a reward for placing his cloak at her feet—”
“That is quite a reward,” he said, finishing the W and moving swiftly to P.
“Yes, yes it was,” she said. He was chiseling a heart around their initials now, and she flushed.
With the inscription complete, he sat down. “So, what happened?” She wasn’t sure what he was asking; she was fixated on his jaw, the way his lips curved. “With Raleigh…”
“Oh.” She knew he would know her cheeks weren’t red from the heat. She cleared her throat and turned her gaze to the tree. “Raleigh was deeply in love with Elizabeth and wanted to show her how much she meant to him, so he went to her bedroom and carved a quote into the windowpane with the diamond from the ring.”
“What was it?”
She dared to look at him. He had stretched out and was leaning on his elbows. She held back her desire to kiss him.
“Fain would I climb, yet fear I to fall.”
“Was he afraid of falling in love?” Will said, turning on his left side, crossing one ankle over the other, and letting his right hand fall, softly, on her forearm.
“She knew how afraid she was of falling in love, but it was worse not to,” she said. “Queen Elizabeth saw the carving and responded using her own diamond ring.” His hand was now on her shoulder.
“What did she carve?” he prompted.
What were the words? She knew this, but there were hands on her back, and the sun against her neck. When did her hat fall away? And, as he drew her into a kiss, Maud found them: “If thy heart fails thee, climb not at all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Despite their detour, Maud and Will arrived at Laurel Hill just in time for dinner.
Mrs. Pritchard had made a pork roast with potatoes and carrots, enlisting Laura to bake fresh bread and Laura’s sisters to help with dessert. She had wanted Maud’s first night with them to “be special,” and Maud assured her hostess that the meal was delicious, and that being on a farm with sloping emerald hills and charming baby poplars was special enough.
During the meal, Mr. Pritchard took the opportunity to admonish Will, “I’m disappointed in you. You misled me when you asked permission to get Maud.”
Will’s knife scraped his plate.
“You took the whole day, and I needed you here.”
“Things sometimes happen that are beyond even your control, Father,” Will said.
“Mr. Pritchard, it was my fault,” Maud said, using the voice she reserved for people like Mrs. Simpson. “My father and stepmother needed my help with the children before we left.”
“I’m sure,” Mr. Pritchard said in a tone that showed he wasn’t convinced.
Laura’s suitors were also in fine form. Both Andrew and George Weir had arrived in the afternoon and Laura hadn’t had the heart to send them away, so both stayed. After supper, they all went into the parlor and Maud showed her skills at the organ by playing the hymns from Isaac Watts’s Psalms, Hymns, and Spiritual Songs. Will stood near her, turning the pages. With the memory of their afternoon fresh in her mind, she had a difficult time concentrating.
Later, as Laura played and Andrew and George fought over who was going to help her with the music, Maud and Will sat on opposite ends of the couch, but somehow, by the last hymn, the space between them had narrowed. She wanted to show Will how much she felt about him, to return his gallant gesture.
It came like one of her flashes of insight when she was writing: a daring idea.
“Will,” she said. “Will you give my ring back?”
“Oh.” He frowned. His thumb skated off his pinkie finger, but he didn’t remove it. “Why?”
“Just for the night,” she assured him.
Reluctantly, he pulled the ring off and placed it in her palm.
“What are you up to?” he said.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Maud said, standing up. “Laura, I’m going up to do a bit of”—she turned to Will—“writing.”
“All right,” Laura said. “I’ll be up as soon as I bid these two fellows good night.”
Carrying a candle, Maud went upstairs and walked down the hall to the back bedroom, which she knew Will’s to be. Easing his door open, she quickly ducked inside and went over to the window. Her heart thumped as, with the edge of her ring, she started carving.
—
About an hour later, Laura found Maud safely tucked in for the night, writing in her journal.
“Who do you think we’ll be?” Laura said, when she had finished getting ready and crawled in beside Maud.
“When?” Maud asked, putting her journal, pen, and ink on the bedside table.
“When we grow up?”
“Many would say we are already grown up.”
Laura’s laugh mingled with the night wind. “It is true. If those two boys downstairs have any ideas, we’ll be an old married couple soon.” Laura grew serious. “But I meant ten years from now.”
Maud didn’t know how to answer the question. “All I’ve ever wanted to be is a writer,” she said. Before her bittersweet Prince Albert journey, Maud had had so many dreams; writing the piece for the Prince Albert Times and having her poem published had rekindled something in her that she thought had been burned out.
“Of course you will be writing.” Laura turned over and lay on her front, kicking her heels in the air. “But I wonder what else we shall be doing. Will you come back here so that we can be sisters for real? Will we have a brood of children at our feet?”
“That would be a wonderful dream.” Maud didn’t know which would be more perfect, being Laura’s sister-in-law—which would be splendid—or being Will’s wife. “I wonder if it will come to anything—your brother and I.”
“If my brother has his way, it will.”
“We’ll probably end up being good friends.” She played with the ring.
“Be hopeful, Maud,” Laura said. “If the Lord wishes it, you’ll return and marry Will.”