Fire Along the Sky
Page 144

At that moment, Gabriel flung open the door with all of his usual energy. Then he and Annie came to a stop just where they were, mouths hanging open.
“Oh,” Gabriel said, blushing furiously.
“Just a little kissing, son,” said Nathaniel. “No cause for alarm. Come on in, and tell us what it is you want.”
“They're yelling at each other, Simon and Lily.” Annie said this breathlessly, her hands clasped in front of herself. “She called him a cheat.”
“Annie,” Elizabeth said, holding out a hand to the girl and motioning her closer. “Were you two listening where you weren't supposed to be?”
Gabriel's face clenched. “I don't like him,” he said. “And neither does Lily, by the way she's talking to him. She said—”
“Never mind what she said.” Elizabeth stopped him firmly. “We do not eavesdrop.”
Nathaniel laughed. “What your mother means, son, is that she certainly would like to hear what they're saying to each other, but it ain't polite, so she's not going to ask.”
“Well, then, can we tell you, Da?” Gabriel asked.
“Not me either,” said Nathaniel. “But you can come up here and set with us while we wait until they're done.”
“Wait until Lily gets done arguing,” Gabriel said with a huffing breath. “We'll all starve to death.”
“I've made your daughter a promise,” Simon Ballentyne began, late that evening.
They had eaten a simple supper together, talking quietly of nothing of real importance, while Gabriel scowled at Simon and Lily avoided his gaze. When the dishes were wiped and put up and Gabriel was in bed, they came together again in front of the hearth.
Now he sat with his hands on his knees, looking at Nathaniel and Elizabeth evenly. The lower half of his face was still paler than his cheeks and forehead; it gave him an oddly lopsided appearance, but all in all, Elizabeth liked him without his beard. She wondered if Lily had asked him to shave it, and then decided she would rather not know the answer to that question.
“More than one promise, I'm guessing,” Nathaniel said.
“More than one, aye,” Simon agreed. He used a handkerchief to wipe perspiration from his brow.
“Come now,” Elizabeth said. “How bad can it be? Just go on and tell us what it is you have to say.”
Simon's dark eyes met hers for three long heartbeats, and then he nodded.
“My mother's name before she married was Fiona Moncrieff. She had two brothers, both of whom you've had the misfortune to meet. Angus and John Moncrieff.”
Nathaniel saw Elizabeth's color rising, in surprise and something else that he couldn't put a name to straight off. All these years later Elizabeth was still unable to talk about Angus Moncrieff with anything approaching the logic and reasoning she otherwise held so dear and took such pride in.
He put a hand on Elizabeth's arm and pressed. He said, “Go on.”
“There's naught to say except this: I hardly knew my uncle Angus, for my mother distrusted him and would no have him in her house. What he did, the harm he caused you, it all brought shame on the family name that canna be denied. As far as my uncle John is concerned—you knew him as Father Contrecoeur—I couldn't tell ye where he is in the world, or if he's even alive. No more do I care. The last time I saw him was almost twenty years ago, when I was a lad in Carryckton.”
The fire ticked in the hearth like a clock. Nathaniel counted Elizabeth's breaths, and watched Simon Ballentyne, who withstood this particular test: he waited, poised, expectant, and said nothing at all.
“Is there more?” Nathaniel said.
“Aye. I love your daughter, and should she decide to take me as husband, I'll spend my life taking care of her.” He was watching Elizabeth's face when he said it.
“Does my stepson know about your connection to Moncrieff?” Elizabeth asked. Her tone was sharp, but Ballentyne didn't flinch from the question.
“Aye,” said Simon. “Luke's known from the first.”
“So he went into partnership with you knowing, and he allowed you to court his sister while she was in Montreal—”
“I would not use the word ‘allowed,' Mrs. Bonner—”
Elizabeth's head snapped up sharply. “If you'll permit me to continue.”
She was trying, Nathaniel realized now, not to smile. He settled back, curious as to exactly where she was going with her inquiry. Elizabeth had a plan, and Elizabeth with a plan was a formidable force, one not to be tampered with.
She said, “Luke was responsible for his sister's welfare in Montreal, but he permitted”—she paused, her expression daring him to interrupt again—“you to call upon her, alone, I am presuming.”
“Aye.” He was looking at her without shame or apology, or even, Nathaniel was pleased to see, real fear. A man who couldn't stand up to Elizabeth would have no chance at all with Lily.
A movement on the stair caught Nathaniel's attention: his daughter, who had not wanted to be here for this interview, but who could not quite stay away either.
“Come on down here, Lily,” Nathaniel said, waving broadly. “Your ma's about to toss this suitor of yours out into the cold; you might want to watch how she does it.”
“She isn't,” Lily said, moving down the stairs. “She wouldn't.”