“And that’s why you didn’t come to the Thanksgiving dinner today?”
“Yeah, that’s why. Not really much in the mood for any kinda celebration, y’ know.” He raised bleary, bloodshot eyes, whose depths abruptly revealed too much of the anguish within.
“Nevertheless,” said Abigail, “it isn’t good to be alone when you’ve suffered through a painful ordeal. Eat, Gabriel, and Hannah and I will keep you company for a bit. If you don’t mind.”
The doctor looked down at his plate and sighed, then managed a weary half-smile. “No, guess I don’t mind. You’re right, Mrs. Fitzsimmons. I suspect you’re right most of the time, aren’tcha?”
“I try to be,” she said complacently. “Years of experience, my dear. Years of experience. And I suspect you need someone to look after you during a siege like this one. To make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Here, try the roast beef. It’s quite delicious.”
When the women finally left, much later—later, at least, by the night’s darkness more so than by the clock’s ticking hands—Gabriel did his best to accompany them to their respective homes. But his wishes were overridden by Abigail’s determination.
“This was our good deed for the day,” she demurred comfortingly, gently patting the doctor’s cheek with one gloved hand. “Hannah and I have made sure you’ve gotten a hearty meal, with leftovers galore, and I hope we’ve provided an outlet for you to vent upon. Now we’ll be on our merry way.”
“No, it isn’t necessary to walk with us.” Hannah, witnessing that too-intimate gesture, felt her lips tighten and her voice regain its usual acerbic note. “We’ll be fine on our own, and Abigail’s place of residence is just a block from my boarding house.”
They then left.
“He’s so upset,” Hannah said. “I feel so bad for him.”
“I do as well. And I wish he had a wife to watch over him, keep him from drinking so much when he is this upset.”
“We can check on him tomorrow.”
“Time will heal all pain.”
“I hope so.”
“Hannah, dear, your doctor is a fine-looking man, do you not think so?”
“I have to admit he is. But. Usually we snarl at each other like two tomcats yowling if we happen to be trapped in the same room together. We don’t get along. But he will make someone a fine husband.”
“Ah. A sad state of affairs. Are you always so brusque with him, then?”
“I suppose I am. Most of the time I’m simply giving back what he’s given me—spurts of spleen and vexation. And then, of course, there’s the endless mocking and scoffing.”
“I see.” A chill wind came skittering along, as they reached an alley, to snatch at their skirts and whirl a few crumpled leaves in their direction. “Well, then, if you’ve no objection, I do believe I might work my feminine wiles with Gabriel Havers.”
Hannah nearly choked. “Your feminine wiles?”
“To be sure. Most men like that sort of thing, you see. A bit of teasing. Playfulness. Fun. I’ve found that being too serious is just—well, too serious for most members of the male sex. And, as I mentioned, I’ve had a good deal of practice in such lighthearted flirtations.”
“You have?”
Enough cool, filtered moonlight spilled down into the street to show a sudden amusing crinkling of Abigail’s amazing blue eyes. “Court and I—hmmm. How can I say this without sounding offensive? After a few years, he lost interest in me as anything other than a trophy, to hang on his arm at social events and testify to his success. So I—improvised. As many other wives have, before me.”
“But I’m not sure I understand what—”
“Oh, Hannah, please don’t be so naïve. Of course you understand. A great many exciting, unattached admirers can be found attending every function at every great house in the city, and it is so very easy to take advantage of a darkened ballroom corner or a shadowy garden wall. Even, occasionally, to slip away for a private carriage ride.”
To what misdeeds, exactly, was the woman confessing? Surely not what might be assumed! Hannah, with the example of her sisters’ mail order marriages before her, felt her convictions crumbling and her romantic dreams turning to ashes.
“So, since I am now wonderfully, delightfully free of any—impediments—I can pursue my own wishes without reservation. In my opinion, once I have Gabriel securely in my grasp, he’ll make quite a satisfactory husband for me. He is a doctor. He is loved by everyone. He’s very handsome. He makes a good living. He is kind and makes all of us laugh. He’s perfect. And I want to make him mine.”
Halting dead before the familiar lantern hung at Mrs. McKnight’s front door, Hannah turned a sharp gaze upon the woman she had been beginning to consider her friend. “I worked out the math, Abigail. You’re—what, about ten years older than he is?”
The lady possessed a slightly wicked yet magical sense of humor, which sent a burst of laughter gurgling up out of nowhere like water splashed from a fountain. “Oh, that much? But, my dear, why should that matter? My poor Courtney had more than thirty years on me.”
“Yes, but—you—why would you—” How could Hannah, so gently bred and reared, possibly bring up the possibility of child-bearing in later y