Page 40 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
But, then, he had abruptly changed his mind and allowed her to do so. Perhaps he had time to consider her failings and lost interest in pursuing her.
Annie came in from sweeping the front. Fetching her needles and some floss, she came to take a seat next to Caroline by the worktable.
“You do not appear to be in good spirits, Mrs. Brown?”
“I am sad that Christmas is over,” she offered by way of explanation.
Annie twisted her mouth in genuine perplexment at Caroline’s statement. The girl evidently suspected she had lost her senses. “Christmastide is not over. It only ends on Twelfth Night. There are many celebrations ahead.”
Caroline’s hand froze as she absorbed the simplicity of Annie’s statement. Children were so straightforward. There was no complexity to their ideas, and somehow this shined a light on the events of the past two days. Why was she at work pining for William when he had accepted her with all her faults and offered her an honorable future together? Why could she not reconsider her vow in light of her change of circumstances?
Biting her lip, she feared her decision had been driven by … well … fear.
It was not too late. Perhaps … she could simply take a chance on herself. Punishing herself might not be the best answer when a man as generous and kind as William wanted to offer her a full life.
Of course, if she were to allow him to court her, she would need to admit where she had gained the funds for her shop. She shut her eyes in distress. How had she not imparted that information while she was confessing her sins? Could she admit how she came to own a shop in Chatternwell? Would he be repelled to learn that her former paramour had given her the funds, and consider her to be a kept woman, or would he believe her that it was a loan to be repaid and only advanced as compensation for past misdeeds?
Why not visit him and see where the conversation takes you?
She dithered, staring down at her needlework while she tried to reach a decision.
“I have an errand to run. Can you mind the shop for an hour, or should I close it?”
Annie raised her eyebrows in surprise but did not question her. “I can mind the shop. There is not much custom today.”
Caroline put her work down on the table and rose. She swiftly put her things away and hung the gown back in its place of honor until she had time to work on it again. If William proved understanding, perhaps she could wear it to her wedding one day.
Donning her cloak, the one that he had teased her about, Caroline exited from the back and hurried down the alleyway. When she reached the block where William’s cottage was, she stopped and looked about. There were too many people about on the streets. She could not approach his home without being seen. And if Mrs. Heeley was back from Bath, Caroline would be spotted for certain.
She nibbled on her lip, realizing she had been loitering too long. Someone was going to notice her awkwardly standing about. She turned up the cross street to re-enter Market Street, as she strived for a solution. She could try the smithy. William had said he was hoping the doctor would confirm his ankle was in better condition than the initial examination. Perhaps he had gone to work.
Caroline headed toward the bellowing chimneys of the smithy, folding her cloak closer as a winter wind hit her and blew right up her sleeves to chill her arms with its icy grip. Perhaps William was right about it. Perhaps she could make a second cloak for colder days such as this and keep the pretty but ineffective one for milder weather.
As she approached the smithy, it soon became clear it was in full operation. The shutters were flung open to allow the cold breeze to dissipate the heat from the forges, and the sound of hammers beating down on metal produced a cacophony of clanging.
She entered through the customer door and came to a stop at the counter that separated the waiting area from the long work area. It was her first time visiting the smithy, but it was clear William ran an impressive operation. There were three forges with giant bellows hanging behind their chimneys, and with one or two men around each forge using tongs to heat black iron to a cherry red.
An apprentice was sweeping up, while another was raking the shards of coal neatly into a pile on one of the waist-high forges. Another had his hand high above his head, pulling on a handle attached to a chain to work the bellows which heated the coals.
Three or four journeymen worked at anvils braced onto wooden stumps, hammering at red-hot metal to produce a clanging so loud, she brought her fingers up to stop her ears.
On the counter, there were large catalogs to peruse, one of locks and another of farming tools, and on the wall was a display of locks and tools for purchase, neatly hung for customers to look at. A section dedicated to steel included especially fine work, and she concluded that these would be the items which brought the largest profits for the smithy.
A boy of about fifteen caught sight of her. Leaning his broom against a wall, he hurried over to assist her, wiping his hands on his leather apron as he approached. She removed her fingers from her ears.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
“I was looking for Mr. Jackson. Is he here today?”
“No, ma’am. He took the day to travel to Bath. Something about visiting someone on Saint Stephen’s Day.”
One of the men at the nearest forge overheard. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he guffawed loudly. “More like gone a-courting, dressed in his Sunday finest.”
Several men broke out laughing, joking about how the blacksmith was sweet on someone in Bath.
All Caroline could think of was how unbearably inconvenient it was to realize she was in love with William at the precise moment she learned she had lost him. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she fought back the sting of tears while struggling for her composure.
She had lost her opportunity. The man had wanted to marry her yesterday. Perhaps when she had disappointed him, he had sought a new interest.
