A Timeless Romance Anthology.

Winter Collection.

Six Historical Short Stories.

Sarah M. Eden.

Heidi Ashworth.

Annette Lyon.

Joyce DiPastena.

The Road to Cavan Town.

By Sarah M. Eden.

Chapter One.

County Cavan, Ireland, 1864.

The roads leading to Cavan Town boasted a fine collection of young bachelors hying themselves to that gem in the midst of the lake county. They made the journey, not to conduct business, not to shop at market, not to worship. The men came to pay court to the belle of the county, each hoping to have a single word, a single glance from the object of their universal affection. Unfortunately for Alice Wheatley, she was not that belle.

Alice hadn't a particular taste for the attentions of hordes of men at one time. Her heart belonged to but one man, a certain Isaac Dancy, whom she'd met on the road to Cavan. He walked the dozen miles around the lakes from his home near Killeshandra every weekend to join the throng of besotted men. Alice walked nearly as many miles herself, returning home to Cavan from her weekday job as a maid-of-all work for a farm family of very comfortable means.

They'd struck up a conversation and a friendship quicker than a change of weather in autumn. He'd shown himself intelligent and thoughtful and kind. They laughed together and smiled together, yet their conversations were known to take serious turns as well. She knew his worries, and he knew hers. She felt closer to him than any other person on earth.

Yet he was making the weekly walk into Cavan to court another woman. Even knowing the reasons for his weekly journeys, Alice had fallen quite deeply in love with him. If her parents had given her a middle name, it likely would have been "Terribly Unlucky."

Still, as she followed the turn in the road that she walked each weekend and approached the spot where Isaac waited for her every Sat.u.r.day morning, she didn't regret her lack of luck. He stood there as usual. Her heart smiled to see him. Unlucky she might have been, but she had his company twice each week and felt grateful for that.

"Good day to ya, Isaac Dancy."

"And to you." He rose from the rock he'd been sitting on.

Alice sometimes wondered if she'd ever grow accustomed to the sight of him. His hair could not have been a darker shade of black. Deep brown were his eyes, and full of intelligence and a love of living. And a life of working the land had left him broad of shoulder. What woman could help admiring the very sight of him?

"Have ya noted our fine view this morning?" he asked. "The last bits of autumn color are on the leaves."

She had noticed it. A fine prospect the lakes offered all the year 'round. Snow hung on bare branches in the winter. Buds of green brightened the landscape in spring. Foliage was lush and plentiful during the summer. She'd developed a fondness for the road in the two years she'd walked it. But the past four months, walking with Isaac, she'd hardly noticed the beauty around her.

"How went yer week, Isaac?"

Thus began their usual stroll. He spoke of having finished his harvest and preparing his home and land and animals for the coming winter. She spoke of her own work and the growing coldness at night, how her tiny closet of a room at the farmhouse hardly kept any of the night air out. He suggested she might want to begin bringing blankets with her as the seasons changed. She wondered aloud if the market would yet have apples or if the picking season had entirely ended.

'Twas always that way between them. Conversation came easily. They could speak on anything or nothing and thoroughly enjoy themselves.

In time, she told herself, he would recognize that for the wonderful thing it was. In time, he would give up his courtship of Miss Sophia Kilchrest and move on to higher pastures, as it were.

Sure, he'd been lured, like so many others, by Miss Kilchrest's lovely face and fine figure. He'd been pulled in by her flawless manners and twinkling eyes. He'd even found a bit of motivation in the dowry she'd bring with her, though, to his credit, he'd not mentioned that but once, and even then, as an off-hand observation. And, Alice had noted, having set his mind on the pursuit of such a highly prized treasure, Isaac had taken on a certain single-mindedness where Miss Kilchrest was concerned. Alice doubted he gave his pursuit much thought of late. He simply continued because it was a goal he'd worked on so long.

"Do ya plan to keep making this walk after the snows come?" Alice asked, praying and hoping and feeling generally quite desperate that he would.

"I don't plan to give over the progress I've made with Miss Kilchrest, if that's what ya mean."

'Twas not in the smallest bit what she meant. But life had taught her that men could be terribly thickheaded, and a woman had no real choice but to be patient with them.

"Are ya making progress, then?"

Isaac nodded. "She spoke to me quite particularly the last few weekends, though the other men vying for her attention were ready to rip me apart over it."

"And men enjoy that, do they, the look of violent loathing in the eyes of another man?"

Isaac grinned. "Indeed."

I will never understand men. Was it the loathing and the sense of victory Isaac liked, or was it the attentions from Miss Kilchrest? Surely he was intelligent enough not to court a woman simply out of pride. "And what did ya talk about during this jealousy-inducing conversation with Miss Kilchrest?"

He b.u.t.toned his coat against the growing wind as they continued down the road. "She spoke of her friends and fashion and the weather."

"Fascinating." Alice only just kept her tone less dry than she felt the comment deserved.

He laughed a little. "She and I aren't the friends that you and I are. We've not endless topics to discuss yet."

So stop trying to converse with her and start spending more time with me. She'd convince him one day; she swore she would. He'd realize Sophia Kilchrest was not for him. More important still, he'd realize she absolutely was.

"Can I let ya in on a secret?" he asked.

Alice couldn't help a smile. He'd shared "secrets" with her before. Sometimes 'twas nothing more than a teasing story, though on a few occasions, he'd told her of plans he had for his home and land. He told her personal things, important things, things she felt certain he hadn't told Miss Kilchrest.

He'd piece it together. He'd realize in time she was his match and not the Belle of Cavan.

"What's this secret?" she asked.

"This weekend in Cavan," he said, earnest excitement in his voice, "I mean to ask Miss Kilchrest if she'll consider me her exclusive suitor. I mean to see to it we're on the firm path toward making her my bride."

With that declaration, Alice Wheatley's world ended.

Chapter Two.

Isaac would never, as long as he lived, understand the female mind. He'd told Alice of his plans to move quite seriously forward with Miss Kilchrest. Rather than offer immediate congratulations or encouragement, she'd looked shocked. Shocked.

How could she have been even a little surprised? They'd spoken of his pursuit of Miss Kilchrest nearly every weekend since he'd first crossed Alice's path some four months earlier. She knew as much about his plans and thoughts as anyone on earth, more even. And yet she clearly hadn't expected his declaration.

Women will never make the least sense.

They reached Market Square, where the weekly crowd of men gathered to jostle for position alongside Miss Kilchrest as she wandered about the vendors' tables. Over the months Isaac had been at the task of courting her, he'd planned out his efforts quite meticulously. Those plans seldom needed review or second thoughts.

Alice, on the other hand, was near constantly throwing his understanding of her entirely out the window.

"Have we made good time?" Alice asked that question every Sat.u.r.day as they came in to Cavan Town. She needed a timepiece of her own, she did.

He checked his pocket watch. "Tis only just noon. Ye've time to reach yer grandparent's house for luncheon."

Her nod was one of relief.

"Have they taken a turn for the worse?" She'd spoken often of her grandparents and their failing health. They were the reason she returned to Cavan every weekend-to take over from a cousin the task of caring for them.

"No more than expected. They're growing old fast, is all." She gave him a sad smile, but with more than a hint of her usual optimism. He didn't like how it dulled her usually sparkling brown eyes. "I'd best not keep ya from yer efforts. There's a market full of men needing tripping up and pushing aside."

There was the laughing encouragement he was used to receiving from his friend. Perhaps she'd only been distracted earlier by worries over her family. That would certainly account for her unenthusiastic response to his news. 'Twas a logical explanation, something Isaac far preferred to confusion.

"Is there anything I can do to help with yer grandparents?"

"Bless ya, no. There's no immediate crisis, only the hardship of waiting and watching them fade."

He could appreciate that. "Ya know where to find me if ya need anything."

"Yes, I simply follow the crowd," she said dryly, with a bit of a twinkle back in her eyes.

"Indeed. And ye'll find me at the very front of it." He set his eyes in that direction, in fact. 'Twas time and past to get on with the weekend's goals. "Wish me luck."

She hesitated the briefest of moments. "I'll wish the best for ya."

There was some difference between that and what he'd asked for, though he couldn't put his finger on just what that difference was.

"Until tomorrow, then. Farnham Street after church."

She smiled. "I'll be there."

He watched her a moment as she made her way down Market Street, away from the square. She didn't attract the attention Miss Kilchrest did, but she was a fine-looking woman. Her light brown hair didn't capture a man's gaze the way a head of fiery locks did. But she didn't fade into the scenery. He'd wondered many times while walking at her side just why it was that no man had s.n.a.t.c.hed her up yet.

His weekly walk to Cavan had improved drastically with the addition of her company and friendship. Even as the weather had turned colder, he'd not minded waiting at the point in the road where she always joined him. Her company was well worth the discomfort. She would certainly be the first person he told when someday Miss Kilchrest accepted his proposal. Likely only his mother would be happier for him, though she didn't live close enough for telling in person.

But he would have nothing to tell either of them if he didn't focus on his goal. The list of things to accomplish was clear and precise in his mind. He'd purchase a few foodstuffs to eat over the weekend whilst making his way to the coveted position at Miss Kilchrest's side. Once he had accomplished that, he would speak with her about furthering their connection. After her acceptance, he could see to some business he needed to undertake. While courting Miss Kilchrest was reason enough to come to Cavan, he found that justifying the time away from his farm was easier when he added business with pleasure.

'Twould be his most productive trip into Cavan yet.

He purchased a bit of bread and cheese from stalls along the market road. A few of the men he saw every weekend trailing Miss Kilchrest noticed him there. Their faces fell a bit upon seeing him arrive, a sure sign his progress with Miss Kilchrest had not gone unnoticed. She was a fine catch, to be sure. Her dowry was something any man would wish for, but her kind heart and gentle spirit even more so. That those arguments in her favor were combined with a strikingly pretty face and a fine figure had secured her more suitors than she likely knew what to do with.

She'd not have to worry over that long, though.

His sack upon his back and his eye on the thickest part of the bachelor crowd, Isaac set his mind to the task at hand. Some a.s.sertive weaving in and around tables and vendors and spectators set him within a few feet of his goal and well within sight of the lovely Miss Kilchrest as she walked at her leisure among the stalls. She did seem to take a great deal of delight in shopping and glancing coyly at the men who trailed her.

He'd thought it a very good sign during his twelve-mile walk from home that the last remaining autumn leaves were a shade of red that quite perfectly matched the color of Miss Kilchrest's hair. The glimpses of sky he'd spied between the ever-growing clouds reminded him of the brilliant blue of her eyes. A very good sign, indeed.

Today would be his day. Of course, first he'd have to actually come close enough to her to speak the words.

The past months had taught him to be more forward than he was by nature. Standing about waiting for Miss Kilchrest to notice him hadn't worked very well.

He stepped in front of one of the other men, moved around a few others. Miss Kilchrest was fully in his sight and lovely as ever she'd been. What man could help but notice her, especially when she wore a bright smile as she did in that moment?

The rising wind rustled the few curls she'd let hang loose about her face. She was sweet to everyone, charming them and easing even the most nervous of her suitors. The women, too, seemed happy to see her when she crossed their paths. At vendor stalls, she stopped to enquire after their goods and compliment their offerings, though she rarely made a purchase. Her friendly nature would make a good addition to his neighborhood.

He caught her eye in the next moment. She smiled welcomingly. 'Twas all the encouragement he needed.

Isaac slipped up to her side near a vendor's table with a small spread of braided watch fobs.

"A good afternoon to ya, Miss Kilchrest."

She laid a light hand on his arm. "How are you, Isaac?" She'd taken to using his first name, though he'd not felt comfortable calling her "Sophia." Perhaps after she accepted his coming request he would.

"It seems we are in for a bit of weather," he said.

She nodded, glancing briefly up at the sky. Her gazed returned quickly to the men standing about. Some held hats in their hands. Others stood with airs of confidence. Isaac had made a study of which men she gave second and third looks to. Those who arrived ragged or dirty she seemed less than impressed with. She preferred a smile to a somber expression.

The men who met those expectations were the ones to receive an invitation to call at the Kilchrest home. Isaac had seen at least a dozen men receive that coveted invitation. His turn was coming; he knew it was. After all, if she agreed to consider him her primary beau, his presence in her home would be a natural thing.

Miss Kilchrest, he had quickly learned, preferred to make the conversation than follow it. Isaac usually obliged her in that, but if he were to pose his question, he'd have to take control of their short time together.

"I wondered if I might have a word-"

One of Miss Kilchrest's particular friends arrived in that exact moment. Isaac stood back, waiting, while the women exchanged embraces and quick-paced words.

He looked over those men who hadn't yet given up for the day. O'Leary from Drumora, who'd received ample attention from Miss Kilchrest. Kelly from Pullamore Far. Others he'd not met in person but recognized from their many weekends jostling one another about. Malone and Sheridan, both Cavan men, who Isaac knew were his greatest rivals. They alone had been granted as much of her time as he. Others had, early on in Isaac's courtship, but they'd fled the field, apparently having been deemed not quite what Miss Kilchrest wished for.

Her friend moved along with one last wave goodbye.

Isaac began again. "Miss Kilchrest, I wished-"

"Buy a flower for the fine la.s.s, will ya?" a little flower girl, likely no older than ten, implored with a bit of forward cheekiness, but wearing the dimpled smile of an angel.

He could hardly resist such a request, especially seeing the acceptance of the offering already hovering on Miss Kilchrest's face. Whether the flower girl had antic.i.p.ated it or not, she'd made a clever suggestion. Given the sheer number of men still trailing after Miss Kilchrest, all the little girl's flowers were purchased and offered in a moment's time.

"Oh, I do love flowers," Miss Kilchrest said, her arms laden with blooms, likely the last they'd see in a while. The chill of late autumn hung heavy in the air.