“I’m uncertain what William intends to do with her. Whenever I ask him, he doesn’t want to discuss it. At first, I understood his hesitancy, because he was in mourning. But Miriam is over four months old. He will need to make permanent plans soon.”
“What are his options? Is there someone in England to raise her?”
Eleanor shook her head. “He says there is no one.”
“Then mayhap he’ll marry again.” Even as the words slipped out of his mouth, Arran wanted to recall them. Who might the minister choose to marry among the women in his current acquaintance? Eleanor would be the obvious choice—and the preferable one. Not only was she a fellow Brit, but she was also beautiful, accomplished, and faithful. Besides all those things, she already loved West’s child as her own. It was only a matter of time before West realized it himself, if he hadn’t already. Would Eleanor consider such a thing?
“He was very much in love with his wife,” Eleanor offered as an explanation. “I doubt he’ll marry again.”
Arran would not disagree with her, though he wanted to. Marriage wasn’t a privilege in a colony such as theirs. It was a necessity. Love had little to do with such things. But the soonerhe stopped discussing West and his marriage options, the better. “I must go,” Arran said instead. “Semple is expecting me.”
Eleanor smiled in farewell and Arran took his musket in hand as he left the main hall.
He should be thinking about the Bois-Brûlés who were probably gathering in Qu’Appelle, or the fact that there had been no buffalo spotted on the plains yet, or even planning for Semple’s departure. But instead, his mind was preoccupied with Eleanor’s need for students, and both her and West’s apparent blindness at the answer to their problems. William West would need a wife, and Eleanor would need a future—something tangible she could cling to when things became difficult. He didn’t foresee either West or Eleanor surviving in the colony long. Both would soon tire of the hardships and long for their lives in England. He’d seen it countless times before.
And when that day came, they’d be together. He felt it in his bones.
By the time Arran reached the door of the governor’s house, his good mood had soured, and he was scowling, though he told himself he was being a fool. He had accepted long ago that he couldn’t marry Eleanor and that some other man would get that privilege.
He just didn’t realize how much he would dislike knowing who that man might be.
Fiona Ferguson stepped out of the governor’s house and met Arran’s scowl with a smile. Arran had discovered she came to the house several times a day to feed Miriam. They were cordial to one another, but they’d never had a reason to speak.
Until today.
“Mrs. Ferguson,” Arran said, forcing himself to return her smile.
“Mr. MacLean.”
“Could I speak with you?”
Her surprise was evident in her raised brows, but she was kind and she nodded. “Aye. What can I do for you?”
The sun was bright, and he was forced to squint. “I just saw Miss Brooke and she told me that your children were her only students today.”
Mrs. Ferguson was a tall woman, with wide shoulders and a thick waist. Her blond hair was worn in a crown of braids around her head and her clothes were clean, but practical. She didn’t appear to be someone who was easily intimidated, but she fidgeted now. “Aye. Angus and I agreed we should take advantage of the school while we can.”
“What about the others? Will they not use the school?”
“They’re a wee bit uncertain about Miss Brooke. They see the school as charity.”
“Charity?” Arran frowned. “How so?”
Mrs. Ferguson glanced over Arran’s shoulder and nodded at a passerby. When the other lady had gone, Mrs. Ferguson leaned in. “There’s a rumor she came all this way out of pity for our children, and she’s not taking an income for her time. They say her father is an earl and he sent her here with all the money she needs.”
“None of that is true. Have you not asked her yourself?”
Mrs. Ferguson put up her hands. “I dinna say I agreed with the rumors. I like Miss Brooke just fine, and even if she did come out of charity, we agreed to swallow our pride and take it, for the sake of our children.”
“She’s not teaching out of charity—and her father left her destitute. She’s just as dependent on this colony as everyone else.”
“The poor lamb.” Mrs. Ferguson clucked her tongue. “I will try to correct the others, but it will be hard to convince them. We’re a proud lot and dinna take kindly to charity. Everything we have,we have earned. If the others know that Eleanor is earning her keep, as well, mayhap they’ll take advantage of the school.”
“Mayhap we need a little entertainment to bring people together.”
“Entertainment?”
“A dance.” He remembered that Lord and Lady Selkirk had hosted a dance when Arran visited them to introduce him to their friends and neighbors at St. Mary’s Isle. Eleanor had been a magnificent dancer and had enjoyed herself quite a bit.
