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mokuyoubiTitle: Not Your Keeper 6/?
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer (Ryan/Spencer, Spencer/Greta, Gabe/William, some others)
Rating: PG (eventually NC-17)
WC: ~5200 (this part)
Summary: Victorian AU. Spencer's parents have recently passed away, leaving him to care for his siblings and tend the family orchard. Brendon is the mysterious stranger who answers the ad for a farm hand.
Going on a long weekend for our 10 year anniversary, so the next part will probably be more of a wait. Hopefully I'll have it up by Monday!
With the spring came a flurry of activity. Spencer, Silvia and Heather worked most of the day on ladders in the orchard. Teacups full of pollen from other trees, and paintbrushes in hand, they took up the delicate task of dusting the apple blossoms. The scent of the buds was heady and rich, and Spencer loved coming to his bed every evening smelling of it.
Selena worked in her garden every day, weeding, planting, maintaining the current growths. Repairs were needed on the caging to keep out the wind and the worst of any late snow. She had a delicate sort of touch, clearing the area of brush and snow, but careful of vegetables. She’d planted their first seeds a month before, and eagerly, but patiently, awaited their arrival.
Gabriel saw to the care of the livestock, and to hunting, as well as general maintenance around the farm. Sometimes he took Brendon around with him, showing him the ropes. Brendon was, as always, a quick learner, and Gabriel commented on that to Spencer.
They spent their days in the vineyard, too, turning the soil, so Spencer wasn’t around them much. He’d thought that would help rid him of his ridiculous crush, but it didn’t work just how he’d planned. Rather than being distracted from thoughts of Brendon, he was distracted by them. Heather would speak to him, and he’d jerk into awareness, realising he’d been staring into space, brush poised, daydreaming.
Jacqueline had brightened up the house with new, light coloured curtains and she’d cleaned the windows. She’d taken to making lighter meals and serving sweet pastries. Light, crisp white wine was shared all around in the evenings. The children brought home stories from school, and the family made more and more trips to town, the fair weather making the journey short and pleasant.
Jacqueline also spent more visiting with the young Doctor Glasius. Spencer met him briefly in town, and he’d had to admit the man was charming. From Jacqueline’s accounts, he treated her properly.
And every passing day, it became more and more difficult for Spencer to contain himself around Brendon. His heart thudded heavily in his chest when they stood close, his hands itched to reach out and touch. Brendon didn’t help matters. His skin was becoming darker tan with exposure to the sun, his hair streaked with lighter brown. It was a gorgeous composition with his white smile and sparkling eyes.
Spencer had got past worrying about whether his attraction was right or wrong. He’d never really felt attraction for a woman before. He’d never courted a woman, or even wanted to. He’d never considered the possibility of someday becoming a husband.
While he’d never felt an attraction for Ryan, either, he’d always thought, when they were younger, that there was no one in the world who could know him so well. He thought now that women were too strange and mysterious for him. He could understand the motivation and desires of men, and that made them more accessible, and easier to love.
So, he supposed, this thing that he wanted was a sin. Well, he’d done a pretty good job of living his life so far. He’d sacrificed a lot for his family, and if this was his chance to have something he wanted, he wasn’t going to waste time worrying about what other people would think. He’d never really cared for the opinion of others, anyway.
The only thing really holding him back at the moment was his concern over Brendon’s reaction. Now that the weather was fair, Brendon spent a lot of evenings in town at the tavern, and there were rumours that he was very popular with the girls. He certainly was a flirt, from what Spencer had seen, and that didn’t lead him to believe Brendon would be very receptive to the idea.
*
In mid-April, Doctor James Glasius and his mother were invited to be their guests for dinner. Jacqueline brought in help for the evening, and Gabriel volunteered to serve, rather than dine with the family, to save trouble and confusion, but Jacqueline wouldn’t hear of it.
“Please all of you be on your best behaviour,” Jacqueline asked, for at least the twelfth time in the past hour. She’d dressed in a beautiful pale blue dress of their mother’s, her long hair curled and gathered in the back to fall over her shoulder. She’d dressed Aaron in his best suit, and Maria in her best dress, and had asked that everyone else don their finest attire, as well.
Brendon had left earlier in the day, saying he didn’t feel comfortable intruding on the event. Spencer would have preferred to linger in the background with Gabriel, joking over how absurd the whole affair was. Instead, Spencer was now the man of the house and expected to dress in a suit, put on his best behaviour, and greet their guests at the door.
“Dr. Glasius. Madame Glasius,” Spencer greeted, bending his head over Rose’s hand.
“Mister Smith,” Rose said. “This is a lovely orchard you have, here.”
“Thank-you, Ma’am. Just wait until we have harvest. Jacqueline’s fresh apple pie is the best you’ll ever have,” Spencer said. He felt horribly awkward struggling to make small talk. He offered his arm and they made their way into the dining room.
There were candles lighting the room, casting romantic, sleepy shadows over the room. Jacqueline and James were murmuring to each other in the corner, sipping wine. Spencer pulled out Rose’s seat for her and she took it with a broad smile. The hired help poured into the room, laying out steaming dishes and refreshing everyone’s beverages. The rest of the family took their seats, and food was passed around.
“Oh, you have such a lovely home, Jacqueline, darling,” Rose said. “Such charming siblings, too. It is amazing the way you keep up this home all by yourself.”
“She is an admirable woman,” James murmured, laying a kiss on the back of Jacqueline’s hand. She grinned, not blushing at all. She was practically glowing with happiness. Spencer felt like he’d somehow lost her, but he was happy for her.
“So, James,” Spencer said. “Jacqueline told me you were offered several positions in larger cities, but you chose to come here.”
“I thought I could do with a bit more experience,” James explained, turning his attention to Spencer, but not releasing Jacqueline’s hand. “And Mother used to tell me stories of what it was like as a child without a doctor available for miles. I’ve spoken with my colleagues, and we decided to do a bit of an internship of sorts, in several small towns, until we could find someone in the area to take over full time.”
Spencer still had trouble understanding why anyone would come to Atwana of his own free will, but kept that to himself. “It is very good of you to sacrifice your own ambition to help us,” he said.
“Well, some might see it as a sacrifice, but it brought me to your sister,” James said, and Jacqueline beamed at him.
After a few glasses of wine, it was a bit easier to carry on conversation. Spencer had always enjoyed science, and it was absolutely delightful to discuss the latest findings of certain journals with another person. Beyond that, James was just a clever, interesting person, and Spencer was infinitely glad Jacqueline had found someone so worthy of her.
After dessert, Jacqueline and James took a walk through the orchard, and the children and Spencer kept Rose amused indoors by the fire. When the sun was long set, Rose and James said their goodbyes. Spencer found it difficult to watch while James and Jacqueline embraced and whispered words of devotion to one another. He found himself wandering through the orchard, feeling the first cool sting of the evening air, bringing with it the scent of apple blossoms. He leaned against a tree, inhaling deeply.
“Oh, Spence, isn’t he wonderful?” Jacqueline asked dreamily, as the sound of Glasius’ carriage disappeared into the night.
Spencer could find no fault in James. “I am very happy for you,” he said. She shivered in the evening air and Spencer drew her to him to keep her warm.
“He’s asked me to marry him,” Jacqueline said softly. “Just tonight.” She brought up her left hand between them, where the ring sparkled on her finger.
Spencer knew this was her way of asking for his approval, and who was he to refuse her this joy. He kissed the top of her silky hair and squeezed her arm a bit tighter. “Well, you better snatch him right up, before he realises he could do much better.”
“Oh!” Jacqueline squealed and smacked him hard on the chest. She was grinning up at him, though, clenching the hand with the ring in a fist to her chest. “It is so exciting. I wanted to start planning right away, but James thought I should get your permission first.”
“Jacqueline, I don’t own you. And I hope this James knows he will not, either. If you are happy with him, I can do nothing to stand in your way,” Spencer said. He’d never thought it was any one person’s right to keep another from what they wanted. It was one of the few lessons he was glad his parents had taught him.
Jacqueline smile softened, almost as if she was sad, and she leaned her cheek against Spencer’s chest. “We thought a summer wedding would be nice. That way I could wear Madre’s dress. And we could hold the ceremony here in the orchard. James is very progressive. He and his mother aren’t very religious.”
Spencer couldn’t resist smiling when she spoke so dreamily of these things. He was excited for her, excited about her prospects, and her future. He was very careful to keep from becoming jealous. “That sounds lovely.”
“I’d still like you to give me away, no matter what you think of it,” Jacqueline said. “It means a lot to me, you know. You’ve always cared for me, and you’ve always protected me, and…”
Spencer pressed another kiss to her hair. “I’ll do it,” he said. They fell silent, the night around them coming alive with the sounds of bird singing, wind rustling the leaves, and in the distance, the children playing in the yard.
“I had better get those little ones to sleep,” Jacqueline said at length. Spencer nodded his agreement and watched her go. He didn’t even want to think of what life was going to be like without her assistance here, but he couldn’t dream of holding her back.
Jacqueline was soon to turn eighteen. It was not yet time for her to be a mother, and a year of make-believe was enough. It was time for her to enjoy her youth with someone she loved, and who loved her in return.
Spencer let out a long sigh and turned away from the house, heading further into the orchard, instead. The moon was big and bright, no doubt having provided the perfect romantic setting for James’s proposal. Something bitter and cruel rose up in Spencer and he crushed it ruthlessly, forcing a smile on his lips.
Taking hold of a low hanging branch, Spencer swung out and up, locking his legs around the limb as well and pulling himself up. He climbed closer to the trunk of the tree, where the branches didn’t quaver so much under his weight, and found a nice little v where he could settle comfortably. He leaned back into the cold, hard bark and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment and trying not to think of the not so distant future when he would lose Jacqueline.
“Almost didn’t see you up there,” Brendon called from below. He sounded slightly inebriated, louder than usual, but he also sounded happy.
“Good evening?” Spencer asked, crawling forward and sprawling over the branch, letting his legs hold him in place, while hanging down.
“You’re going to break your neck,” Brendon said pleasantly, flicking at Spencer’s hair.
“Concerned?” Spencer asked.
Brendon shrugged, leaning against the tree. “Did I miss anything terribly intriguing at dinner?”
Spencer stared into the ever darkening distance. “Jacqueline is engaged.” The blood rushing to his head as making him feel dizzy and heavy.
Brendon smiled broadly. “Well that’s good news, isn’t it? Heard all about her dear doctor from the girls in the saloon. He seems like the model citizen. Doesn’t sleep around, doesn’t over drink, doesn’t charge for most the services he provides…all around, he seems like a pretty decent fellow.”
“He is good for her,” Spencer said. He brought his hands up and swung himself around, releasing his legs and dropping to the ground lightly. Brendon stood between him and the tree. Spencer’s head was heavy with blood and alcohol.
“Feelin’ alright?” Brendon asked, bringing up a hand to steady Spencer by his elbow.
“Wonderful,” Spencer murmured. He took a step closer to Brendon, then another. Had Brendon always been so much smaller than Spencer? It seemed inconceivable, the way Brendon had tip his head back to look up at Spencer with a questioning expression.
Spencer closed that last little distance, until their chests were brushing. If he hesitated very long, he knew he would no longer have his drunken courage propelling him. He raised a hand to cup Brendon’s head, and, closing his eyes, bent to kiss him.
For a brief, sweet moment, their lips met. Spencer melted against Brendon, felt the long, solid line of him. Brendon’s lips were soft and his breath smelled like cheap alcohol—whiskey—the scent was intoxicating.
Spencer tilted his head, moving his lips in soft kisses over Brendon’s. The contact was delicious, unlike anything Spencer had ever known, every brush of skin on skin, every heartbeat amplified by the alcohol Spencer had consumed.
Brendon made a muffled, inscrutable noise, and turned his head to the side. “What the hell are you doing?” He shoved Spencer away with a hand to his chest.
Spencer couldn’t stop the soft moan in the back of his throat and he pressed nearer, his lips inches from Brendon’s throat. He darted out his tongue, tasting the salty flesh. Nothing had ever made him feel so excited as this—none of the stories in the magazines, none of his fantasies. He was painfully hard, and strained to be nearer to Brendon, to find some release.
“Stop it,” Brendon said, his voice hoarse. “Mister Smith…”
Suddenly, Spencer stopped, pulling back. His heart constricted painfully. He was doing to Brendon exactly what had been done by Ryan to him. He took a few steps back, ashamed, and stared fixedly at the ground, trying to get his breathing under control.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Spencer managed between gasps. “I wasn’t. It was the wine…I wasn’t thinking.”
The angry frown on Brendon’s face gave way to concern. He took a step forward, reached out hesitantly. “Maybe you just need a good night’s sleep,” he said.
“I’m certain that is it,” Spencer said. Absurdly, he felt as though he might burst into tears at any moment. Of course he hadn’t had any hope of things going as he’d imagined.
They made their way back to the house in silence, Brendon supporting Spencer with an arm under his elbow, a wide distance between their bodies. The house was still and silent, and Spencer assumed that all the children had been put to bed, and the older girls were probably up discussing the coming wedding in Jacqueline’s room. Brendon helped Spencer up the stairs and saw him to his door.
“Mister Smith,” Brendon said softly, when they’d reached his room, “I’m just going to assume it was the wine, as you said, and I think that’s best for us all. You know that unnatural affection can only get a person into trouble.”
“Of course,” Spencer agreed, holding back with all his strength of the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. Brendon nodded decisively and turned away, and Spencer ducked into his room, closing it quickly and sagging against it, letting out a small sob.
On shaking feet, Spencer made his way to the bed, throwing himself upon it and muting his cry in the covers. How could he have been so incredibly hasty and foolish? How good a man Brendon was, to ignore the implications, to go on as if nothing had happened, and even more, to see him safely to bed.
Spencer hated himself bitterly. He hated his stupid body that was still excited. His stupid erection, burning in his trousers. He hated his weakness as he undid the fastenings of his clothing and reached inside. Hated the sounds he couldn’t stop as he quickly found his pleasure. Hated his mind for calling up images of Brendon’s face, the texture of Brendon’s lips, the exact colour of his eyes. Hated every fibre of his being when he came into his own hand, whimpering Brendon’s name, as always.
*
Brendon mentioned nothing of the incident the following day, or the next. Nothing he did was outwardly hostile, and he couldn’t be accused of avoiding Spencer, but the fact remained that in the few minutes they spent near one another each day, Spencer felt very distinctly unfriendly vibes aimed in his direction.
If anyone else noticed the tension between them, they didn’t mention it. Spencer assumed that Jacqueline, Selena, Heather and Silvia were too busy with wedding plans to pay attention to anyone else, and Maria and Aaron were too young to see such a subtle difference. Gabriel did seem to pin Spencer with more unnerving stares than usual, but made no comment.
At the end of the week, Spencer joined Jacqueline in town. She was going crazy with plans for the wedding. Today her purchases would be material for dresses for their sisters to wear in the ceremony. When they arrived in town, she was immediately set upon by a horde of giggling, teenaged girls, who seemed to know her and the details of her impending marriage rather intimately.
Spencer broke off from the others, heading instead to the corner store. “Mister Smith!” Jason Milton called, clapping him on the back. Spencer’s Father and Milton had been drinking buddies, and he’d occasionally come around the house. “Heard about the good news. Fine match for your sister. Oh, your father would be proud.”
“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said. He had to bite his cheek to keep from saying anything unkind of the dead.
“Gonna be rather empty up at that big old house, though,” Milton said. He nudged Spencer in the ribs, as if they were sharing a joke.
“I suppose,” Spencer said. He felt distinctly like he was reading from a script he hadn’t studied.
“First your gran going, then your ma and pa, and now little sister,” Milton said. Like Spencer hadn’t plagued himself with these thoughts for days on end.
“Yes,” Spencer muttered.
“Probably ‘bout time you got yourself a little lady, huh?” Milton said. “Need someone up there to keep house, look after the little ones, make the meals, so on…”
Spencer knew this was the point where he was supposed to agree again, but his mind was going a million miles a minute. No one actually expected him to marry, now that Jacqueline was. He couldn’t, couldn’t marry. The mere thought left him feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut.
“Now my little niece Megan’s just turned eighteen, and you know, she’s quite the pretty young thing,” Milton said.
“Is that so?” Spencer asked, trying to dive back into the conversation. “Sounds delightful.”
“Perhaps we could set up a meeting…” Milton seemed rather smug about something. Spencer could only feel vaguely sick to his stomach.
“Perhaps we could,” Spencer agreed, looking around for escape. “We’ll talk soon. I really must check up on Jacqueline.” He hurried off, ignoring Milton’s calling his name.
*
It only took Spencer a few days to realise Milton was absolutely right. With Jacqueline going, a woman would be needed to look after the matters of the house. No matter how he looked at it, the other girls simply weren’t mature or experienced enough, and besides, it wouldn’t be fair to ask it of them. It hadn’t been fair to ask Jacqueline. His only option was to marry.
Though morally, it seemed wrong, and though his mind and body screamed in disgust, Spencer had an obligation to his family, and if it meant yet another sacrifice, he must do it with a smile. All he needed do was hint to Jacqueline his predicament, and things took off before the end of the following week.
Jacqueline had a dozen girlfriends in Atwana, and each of them knew at least one eligible girl of Spencer’s age, or were interested in him themselves. For the moment, at least, Jacqueline had set aside thoughts of her own marriage, and began planning for Spencer’s.
“What about Eloise Cutler?” Jacqueline asked over dinner.
“What about her?” Brendon asked. Jacqueline wiggled her fingers at him dismissively, and his frown deepened. Spencer realised he hadn’t mentioned his new objective to Brendon, seeing as they hadn’t spoken to one another in over a week, but for everyday pleasantries.
“A very sturdy girl,” Gabriel said. He sounded solemn, but Spencer was fairly certain that Gabriel was getting some weird satisfaction and amusement out of this all, at Spencer’s expense. There was really no way of proving it.
Selena pulled a face. “Not Eloise. She always smells like cabbage.” She stuck out her tongue. “I hate cabbage. We’d be having cabbage for dinner every evening.” Spencer sighed, and Brendon looked at them all as if they were speaking in a different language.
“Fine then,” Jacqueline said, exasperated. “Not Eloise, though I think she’s a darling. Christine Madison is very charming. And she doesn’t smell like anything.”
“Christine Madison,” Spencer echoed. “Isn’t she the one with one leg shorter than the other?”
Jacqueline’s face coloured brightly. “Spence! That is no reflection on her worth.”
“I didn’t say it was!” Spencer protested quickly.
“She’s a very nice girl. And very talented. She makes the most beautiful clothing. She could dress the entire family very well, and her mother is the best cook for miles, something I’m certain she’s passed on.”
“I just don’t think I…” Spencer trailed off, running his fingers through his hair. He caught Brendon’s still confused expression from the corner of his eye and steeled himself. “What about Miss Greta?”
“Oh?” Heather said. She wore a little knowing smirk. “Miss Greta has a whole bunch of boys after her,” she said. “They have their little sisters bring her letters to school all the time. But none of them are as wealthy and handsome as you, Spence. I bet you could win her over easy.”
“She is rather pretty,” Jacqueline said thoughtfully.
“And she is very intelligent,” Gabriel said, stroking his chin. “And very fair minded.”
“What on Earth are you all on about?” Brendon demanded.
“Love is in the air,” Selena said with a pointed, dreamy look at Brendon and a great sigh. Brendon’s frown deepened.
Spencer cleared his throat and studied his plate. His heart feeling like a stone in the bottom of his stomach.
"Spence's looking to get himself a bride," Jacqueline said. "Oh, it's so exciting." Spencer shook his head in automatic response.
"That's good," Brendon said. When Spencer’s head snapped up at that, Brendon looked largely uncomfortable. "Just probably do you some good. Having a companion, and all."
Spencer snorted, looking down at his plate again, thinking very uncharitable thoughts toward Brendon. Certainly that would comfort him, to know that Spencer had himself a lover, and wouldn't be throwing himself on Brendon any longer.
*
The whole family went into town on Sundays. There parents had never been very religious, but the church had been so supportive in the early days following their passing that Jacqueline saw it as her duty to take the children to services. Sometimes Spencer joined them, sometimes he would accompany Brendon and Gabriel to the saloon, other times he liked to stroll through the streets. The town was forever changing, new businesses and homes sprouting up in the empty spaces.
Today, as the children took off laughing to join their friends in the church yard, Gabriel tugged on Spencer’s sleeve. “Looks like the new library is open now.”
Spencer frowned in that direction. Indeed, the front door was open to the breezy warm morning. “On a Sunday?”
“Talk around the tavern is the owner’s one of those freethinking, atheistic fellows,” Brendon said. “He probably would have been better received somewhere on the coast.”
Ever since word had gone around that a library would be opening in Atwana, Spencer had been waiting impatiently. “Come on, let’s go see.” Brendon and Gabriel exchanged a look, shrugged, and followed as Spencer led the way.
The library took up the first floor of a rather grand house, which had been under construction for a good part of the previous year. When they stepped inside, Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The floor plan was open and airy, and every wall was lined, floor to ceiling, in shelves packed full of books.
There was a large, beautifully detailed table in the grand room, covered in open books and littered with papers. Chairs and stools were tucked in corners, and in one of those sat a very well-dressed man, legs crossed at the knees, nose buried in a large tome.
“Excuse me,” Spencer said.
The man lowered his book slightly. His face was starkly pale against the long fall of dark hair, and his aristocratic features were set in an appraising look. “I hadn’t expected any visitors today,” he said.
“Then why are you open?” Gabriel asked, in that belligerent tone that alternately amused Spencer, or annoyed him.
A single brow arched, full lips pursed. “Because I choose to be,” the man said. He took a bookmark from the small table at his side and closed his book before standing. His legs were impossibly long. Even Spencer, who was considered tall, felt dwarfed by him as he only ever did with Gabriel.
“And you gentlemen? What brings you to my door rather than God’s?” he asked.
Brendon had an odd, dodgy look about him, and Gabriel’s stance was one of open defiance. Neither of them seemed to have a response to that, either because they couldn’t form one or didn’t care to, Spencer couldn’t say. “I prefer reason and science to religion, myself,” Spencer said in the silence.
The man gave him a smile that Spencer could only describe as devious. “A man after my own heart,” he said. “I’m William Beckett.” He offered a cool, dry hand for Spencer to shake.
“Spencer Smith. And these are my companions, Gabriel Saporta, and Brendon…” Most of the time Spencer forgot he didn’t actually know Brendon’s last name, and whenever he realised it, he was always momentarily unsettled.
“Just Brendon is fine,” Brendon said. He held out his hand to shake as well. Gabriel only nodded in greeting.
Mister Beckett looked only mildly taken aback by their behaviour, and focussed on Spencer. “Well, Mister Smith—”
“Spencer, please,” he said.
“And you may call me William. So, Spencer, is there anything I can help you find today, or did you come simply to browse?”
Spencer shook his head, still vaguely awed by the presence of all these books. Certainly it was nothing like the libraries in New York, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd missed having a library desperately. “I’ve not had the opportunity to visit a library in years. I’m afraid I have no idea what I’ve missed.”
“Of course I could make a number of suggestions, if you so desire,” William said.
“I’ll let you know.” Spencer wandered away and was aware of the soft murmur of conversation. Gabriel must have asked why William had chosen Atwana for opening his library, rather than a larger city, where he might be better received.
“I’ve lived in large cities,” William was saying. “Chicago, Baltimore, San Francisco. I prefer the quiet of smaller towns. The slower pace. And I hardly care what others think of me.”
Spencer wondered if William sincerely meant what he said, and figured he must, if he’d built his library here and opened on a Sunday. He was a little envious of the man, to be honest. Spencer still cared far too much what others thought of him to be honest about his inner thoughts.
Brendon was at the table, looking over the notes and open books. “This looks like Iroquoian,” he said.
That got William and Gabriel’s attention. “I’ve seen something like this, near Erie,” Gabriel said, leaning in to examine the foreign symbols on the page.
“It’s Laurentian, actually,” William said. “You both have a good eye for the native languages. This particular form of Iroquoian is long dead. I’ve been reading the journals of some of the explorers to the St. Lawrence River, trying to expand on their translations.”
“That’s quite an undertaking, and one I can’t imagine will be met with much interest,” Gabriel said.
“I don’t do it for recognition,” William said. “I do it because it interests me.”
Spencer made his way into another of the rooms where he could only hear their voices, not their words. He was intrigued to learn more about William’s project, and how Brendon knew what Indian languages looked like, but the draw of the books was greater. By the time the clock tower chimed at noon, he had a stack of books to borrow.
“You should come by the house for dinner one evening,” Spencer said, after he’d finished filling out the form for his subscription and paying the fee. “It’s so refreshing to encounter a like-minded individual.”
William glanced at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye, and smiled. “I’d be quite pleased to dine with you. Let me know when and where.”
Outside the streets were bustling with activity, the members of the community pouring forth from the church. Now that it had been made known that the head of the Smith Orchard and Farm was looking for a wife, advances were made at a startling rate. These days Spencer couldn't go to town without being followed by a gaggle of giggling girls, and most times there were one or two bold enough to approach him and engage him in conversation.
For the large part, they were simpering idiots, looking for a good marriage. Occasionally Spencer came across one with unnerving intelligence and unerring notion that they would be Spencer's wife. They were even worse, because Spencer worried that if he didn’t stay on guard, he might find himself accidentally wed to one of them.
Today he simply did not feel up to it. He quickly tucked his books away in the carriage and made his way to the saloon, where he could be certain the girls wouldn’t follow. Gabriel, however, lingered at the door of the library, talking to William. Brendon had beat Spencer to the saloon and was already at the bar with a drink in hand and a woman at his shoulder. Spencer refused to care.
Pairing: Brendon/Spencer (Ryan/Spencer, Spencer/Greta, Gabe/William, some others)
Rating: PG (eventually NC-17)
WC: ~5200 (this part)
Summary: Victorian AU. Spencer's parents have recently passed away, leaving him to care for his siblings and tend the family orchard. Brendon is the mysterious stranger who answers the ad for a farm hand.
Going on a long weekend for our 10 year anniversary, so the next part will probably be more of a wait. Hopefully I'll have it up by Monday!
With the spring came a flurry of activity. Spencer, Silvia and Heather worked most of the day on ladders in the orchard. Teacups full of pollen from other trees, and paintbrushes in hand, they took up the delicate task of dusting the apple blossoms. The scent of the buds was heady and rich, and Spencer loved coming to his bed every evening smelling of it.
Selena worked in her garden every day, weeding, planting, maintaining the current growths. Repairs were needed on the caging to keep out the wind and the worst of any late snow. She had a delicate sort of touch, clearing the area of brush and snow, but careful of vegetables. She’d planted their first seeds a month before, and eagerly, but patiently, awaited their arrival.
Gabriel saw to the care of the livestock, and to hunting, as well as general maintenance around the farm. Sometimes he took Brendon around with him, showing him the ropes. Brendon was, as always, a quick learner, and Gabriel commented on that to Spencer.
They spent their days in the vineyard, too, turning the soil, so Spencer wasn’t around them much. He’d thought that would help rid him of his ridiculous crush, but it didn’t work just how he’d planned. Rather than being distracted from thoughts of Brendon, he was distracted by them. Heather would speak to him, and he’d jerk into awareness, realising he’d been staring into space, brush poised, daydreaming.
Jacqueline had brightened up the house with new, light coloured curtains and she’d cleaned the windows. She’d taken to making lighter meals and serving sweet pastries. Light, crisp white wine was shared all around in the evenings. The children brought home stories from school, and the family made more and more trips to town, the fair weather making the journey short and pleasant.
Jacqueline also spent more visiting with the young Doctor Glasius. Spencer met him briefly in town, and he’d had to admit the man was charming. From Jacqueline’s accounts, he treated her properly.
And every passing day, it became more and more difficult for Spencer to contain himself around Brendon. His heart thudded heavily in his chest when they stood close, his hands itched to reach out and touch. Brendon didn’t help matters. His skin was becoming darker tan with exposure to the sun, his hair streaked with lighter brown. It was a gorgeous composition with his white smile and sparkling eyes.
Spencer had got past worrying about whether his attraction was right or wrong. He’d never really felt attraction for a woman before. He’d never courted a woman, or even wanted to. He’d never considered the possibility of someday becoming a husband.
While he’d never felt an attraction for Ryan, either, he’d always thought, when they were younger, that there was no one in the world who could know him so well. He thought now that women were too strange and mysterious for him. He could understand the motivation and desires of men, and that made them more accessible, and easier to love.
So, he supposed, this thing that he wanted was a sin. Well, he’d done a pretty good job of living his life so far. He’d sacrificed a lot for his family, and if this was his chance to have something he wanted, he wasn’t going to waste time worrying about what other people would think. He’d never really cared for the opinion of others, anyway.
The only thing really holding him back at the moment was his concern over Brendon’s reaction. Now that the weather was fair, Brendon spent a lot of evenings in town at the tavern, and there were rumours that he was very popular with the girls. He certainly was a flirt, from what Spencer had seen, and that didn’t lead him to believe Brendon would be very receptive to the idea.
*
In mid-April, Doctor James Glasius and his mother were invited to be their guests for dinner. Jacqueline brought in help for the evening, and Gabriel volunteered to serve, rather than dine with the family, to save trouble and confusion, but Jacqueline wouldn’t hear of it.
“Please all of you be on your best behaviour,” Jacqueline asked, for at least the twelfth time in the past hour. She’d dressed in a beautiful pale blue dress of their mother’s, her long hair curled and gathered in the back to fall over her shoulder. She’d dressed Aaron in his best suit, and Maria in her best dress, and had asked that everyone else don their finest attire, as well.
Brendon had left earlier in the day, saying he didn’t feel comfortable intruding on the event. Spencer would have preferred to linger in the background with Gabriel, joking over how absurd the whole affair was. Instead, Spencer was now the man of the house and expected to dress in a suit, put on his best behaviour, and greet their guests at the door.
“Dr. Glasius. Madame Glasius,” Spencer greeted, bending his head over Rose’s hand.
“Mister Smith,” Rose said. “This is a lovely orchard you have, here.”
“Thank-you, Ma’am. Just wait until we have harvest. Jacqueline’s fresh apple pie is the best you’ll ever have,” Spencer said. He felt horribly awkward struggling to make small talk. He offered his arm and they made their way into the dining room.
There were candles lighting the room, casting romantic, sleepy shadows over the room. Jacqueline and James were murmuring to each other in the corner, sipping wine. Spencer pulled out Rose’s seat for her and she took it with a broad smile. The hired help poured into the room, laying out steaming dishes and refreshing everyone’s beverages. The rest of the family took their seats, and food was passed around.
“Oh, you have such a lovely home, Jacqueline, darling,” Rose said. “Such charming siblings, too. It is amazing the way you keep up this home all by yourself.”
“She is an admirable woman,” James murmured, laying a kiss on the back of Jacqueline’s hand. She grinned, not blushing at all. She was practically glowing with happiness. Spencer felt like he’d somehow lost her, but he was happy for her.
“So, James,” Spencer said. “Jacqueline told me you were offered several positions in larger cities, but you chose to come here.”
“I thought I could do with a bit more experience,” James explained, turning his attention to Spencer, but not releasing Jacqueline’s hand. “And Mother used to tell me stories of what it was like as a child without a doctor available for miles. I’ve spoken with my colleagues, and we decided to do a bit of an internship of sorts, in several small towns, until we could find someone in the area to take over full time.”
Spencer still had trouble understanding why anyone would come to Atwana of his own free will, but kept that to himself. “It is very good of you to sacrifice your own ambition to help us,” he said.
“Well, some might see it as a sacrifice, but it brought me to your sister,” James said, and Jacqueline beamed at him.
After a few glasses of wine, it was a bit easier to carry on conversation. Spencer had always enjoyed science, and it was absolutely delightful to discuss the latest findings of certain journals with another person. Beyond that, James was just a clever, interesting person, and Spencer was infinitely glad Jacqueline had found someone so worthy of her.
After dessert, Jacqueline and James took a walk through the orchard, and the children and Spencer kept Rose amused indoors by the fire. When the sun was long set, Rose and James said their goodbyes. Spencer found it difficult to watch while James and Jacqueline embraced and whispered words of devotion to one another. He found himself wandering through the orchard, feeling the first cool sting of the evening air, bringing with it the scent of apple blossoms. He leaned against a tree, inhaling deeply.
“Oh, Spence, isn’t he wonderful?” Jacqueline asked dreamily, as the sound of Glasius’ carriage disappeared into the night.
Spencer could find no fault in James. “I am very happy for you,” he said. She shivered in the evening air and Spencer drew her to him to keep her warm.
“He’s asked me to marry him,” Jacqueline said softly. “Just tonight.” She brought up her left hand between them, where the ring sparkled on her finger.
Spencer knew this was her way of asking for his approval, and who was he to refuse her this joy. He kissed the top of her silky hair and squeezed her arm a bit tighter. “Well, you better snatch him right up, before he realises he could do much better.”
“Oh!” Jacqueline squealed and smacked him hard on the chest. She was grinning up at him, though, clenching the hand with the ring in a fist to her chest. “It is so exciting. I wanted to start planning right away, but James thought I should get your permission first.”
“Jacqueline, I don’t own you. And I hope this James knows he will not, either. If you are happy with him, I can do nothing to stand in your way,” Spencer said. He’d never thought it was any one person’s right to keep another from what they wanted. It was one of the few lessons he was glad his parents had taught him.
Jacqueline smile softened, almost as if she was sad, and she leaned her cheek against Spencer’s chest. “We thought a summer wedding would be nice. That way I could wear Madre’s dress. And we could hold the ceremony here in the orchard. James is very progressive. He and his mother aren’t very religious.”
Spencer couldn’t resist smiling when she spoke so dreamily of these things. He was excited for her, excited about her prospects, and her future. He was very careful to keep from becoming jealous. “That sounds lovely.”
“I’d still like you to give me away, no matter what you think of it,” Jacqueline said. “It means a lot to me, you know. You’ve always cared for me, and you’ve always protected me, and…”
Spencer pressed another kiss to her hair. “I’ll do it,” he said. They fell silent, the night around them coming alive with the sounds of bird singing, wind rustling the leaves, and in the distance, the children playing in the yard.
“I had better get those little ones to sleep,” Jacqueline said at length. Spencer nodded his agreement and watched her go. He didn’t even want to think of what life was going to be like without her assistance here, but he couldn’t dream of holding her back.
Jacqueline was soon to turn eighteen. It was not yet time for her to be a mother, and a year of make-believe was enough. It was time for her to enjoy her youth with someone she loved, and who loved her in return.
Spencer let out a long sigh and turned away from the house, heading further into the orchard, instead. The moon was big and bright, no doubt having provided the perfect romantic setting for James’s proposal. Something bitter and cruel rose up in Spencer and he crushed it ruthlessly, forcing a smile on his lips.
Taking hold of a low hanging branch, Spencer swung out and up, locking his legs around the limb as well and pulling himself up. He climbed closer to the trunk of the tree, where the branches didn’t quaver so much under his weight, and found a nice little v where he could settle comfortably. He leaned back into the cold, hard bark and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment and trying not to think of the not so distant future when he would lose Jacqueline.
“Almost didn’t see you up there,” Brendon called from below. He sounded slightly inebriated, louder than usual, but he also sounded happy.
“Good evening?” Spencer asked, crawling forward and sprawling over the branch, letting his legs hold him in place, while hanging down.
“You’re going to break your neck,” Brendon said pleasantly, flicking at Spencer’s hair.
“Concerned?” Spencer asked.
Brendon shrugged, leaning against the tree. “Did I miss anything terribly intriguing at dinner?”
Spencer stared into the ever darkening distance. “Jacqueline is engaged.” The blood rushing to his head as making him feel dizzy and heavy.
Brendon smiled broadly. “Well that’s good news, isn’t it? Heard all about her dear doctor from the girls in the saloon. He seems like the model citizen. Doesn’t sleep around, doesn’t over drink, doesn’t charge for most the services he provides…all around, he seems like a pretty decent fellow.”
“He is good for her,” Spencer said. He brought his hands up and swung himself around, releasing his legs and dropping to the ground lightly. Brendon stood between him and the tree. Spencer’s head was heavy with blood and alcohol.
“Feelin’ alright?” Brendon asked, bringing up a hand to steady Spencer by his elbow.
“Wonderful,” Spencer murmured. He took a step closer to Brendon, then another. Had Brendon always been so much smaller than Spencer? It seemed inconceivable, the way Brendon had tip his head back to look up at Spencer with a questioning expression.
Spencer closed that last little distance, until their chests were brushing. If he hesitated very long, he knew he would no longer have his drunken courage propelling him. He raised a hand to cup Brendon’s head, and, closing his eyes, bent to kiss him.
For a brief, sweet moment, their lips met. Spencer melted against Brendon, felt the long, solid line of him. Brendon’s lips were soft and his breath smelled like cheap alcohol—whiskey—the scent was intoxicating.
Spencer tilted his head, moving his lips in soft kisses over Brendon’s. The contact was delicious, unlike anything Spencer had ever known, every brush of skin on skin, every heartbeat amplified by the alcohol Spencer had consumed.
Brendon made a muffled, inscrutable noise, and turned his head to the side. “What the hell are you doing?” He shoved Spencer away with a hand to his chest.
Spencer couldn’t stop the soft moan in the back of his throat and he pressed nearer, his lips inches from Brendon’s throat. He darted out his tongue, tasting the salty flesh. Nothing had ever made him feel so excited as this—none of the stories in the magazines, none of his fantasies. He was painfully hard, and strained to be nearer to Brendon, to find some release.
“Stop it,” Brendon said, his voice hoarse. “Mister Smith…”
Suddenly, Spencer stopped, pulling back. His heart constricted painfully. He was doing to Brendon exactly what had been done by Ryan to him. He took a few steps back, ashamed, and stared fixedly at the ground, trying to get his breathing under control.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Spencer managed between gasps. “I wasn’t. It was the wine…I wasn’t thinking.”
The angry frown on Brendon’s face gave way to concern. He took a step forward, reached out hesitantly. “Maybe you just need a good night’s sleep,” he said.
“I’m certain that is it,” Spencer said. Absurdly, he felt as though he might burst into tears at any moment. Of course he hadn’t had any hope of things going as he’d imagined.
They made their way back to the house in silence, Brendon supporting Spencer with an arm under his elbow, a wide distance between their bodies. The house was still and silent, and Spencer assumed that all the children had been put to bed, and the older girls were probably up discussing the coming wedding in Jacqueline’s room. Brendon helped Spencer up the stairs and saw him to his door.
“Mister Smith,” Brendon said softly, when they’d reached his room, “I’m just going to assume it was the wine, as you said, and I think that’s best for us all. You know that unnatural affection can only get a person into trouble.”
“Of course,” Spencer agreed, holding back with all his strength of the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. Brendon nodded decisively and turned away, and Spencer ducked into his room, closing it quickly and sagging against it, letting out a small sob.
On shaking feet, Spencer made his way to the bed, throwing himself upon it and muting his cry in the covers. How could he have been so incredibly hasty and foolish? How good a man Brendon was, to ignore the implications, to go on as if nothing had happened, and even more, to see him safely to bed.
Spencer hated himself bitterly. He hated his stupid body that was still excited. His stupid erection, burning in his trousers. He hated his weakness as he undid the fastenings of his clothing and reached inside. Hated the sounds he couldn’t stop as he quickly found his pleasure. Hated his mind for calling up images of Brendon’s face, the texture of Brendon’s lips, the exact colour of his eyes. Hated every fibre of his being when he came into his own hand, whimpering Brendon’s name, as always.
*
Brendon mentioned nothing of the incident the following day, or the next. Nothing he did was outwardly hostile, and he couldn’t be accused of avoiding Spencer, but the fact remained that in the few minutes they spent near one another each day, Spencer felt very distinctly unfriendly vibes aimed in his direction.
If anyone else noticed the tension between them, they didn’t mention it. Spencer assumed that Jacqueline, Selena, Heather and Silvia were too busy with wedding plans to pay attention to anyone else, and Maria and Aaron were too young to see such a subtle difference. Gabriel did seem to pin Spencer with more unnerving stares than usual, but made no comment.
At the end of the week, Spencer joined Jacqueline in town. She was going crazy with plans for the wedding. Today her purchases would be material for dresses for their sisters to wear in the ceremony. When they arrived in town, she was immediately set upon by a horde of giggling, teenaged girls, who seemed to know her and the details of her impending marriage rather intimately.
Spencer broke off from the others, heading instead to the corner store. “Mister Smith!” Jason Milton called, clapping him on the back. Spencer’s Father and Milton had been drinking buddies, and he’d occasionally come around the house. “Heard about the good news. Fine match for your sister. Oh, your father would be proud.”
“Thank you, sir,” Spencer said. He had to bite his cheek to keep from saying anything unkind of the dead.
“Gonna be rather empty up at that big old house, though,” Milton said. He nudged Spencer in the ribs, as if they were sharing a joke.
“I suppose,” Spencer said. He felt distinctly like he was reading from a script he hadn’t studied.
“First your gran going, then your ma and pa, and now little sister,” Milton said. Like Spencer hadn’t plagued himself with these thoughts for days on end.
“Yes,” Spencer muttered.
“Probably ‘bout time you got yourself a little lady, huh?” Milton said. “Need someone up there to keep house, look after the little ones, make the meals, so on…”
Spencer knew this was the point where he was supposed to agree again, but his mind was going a million miles a minute. No one actually expected him to marry, now that Jacqueline was. He couldn’t, couldn’t marry. The mere thought left him feeling as though he’d been punched in the gut.
“Now my little niece Megan’s just turned eighteen, and you know, she’s quite the pretty young thing,” Milton said.
“Is that so?” Spencer asked, trying to dive back into the conversation. “Sounds delightful.”
“Perhaps we could set up a meeting…” Milton seemed rather smug about something. Spencer could only feel vaguely sick to his stomach.
“Perhaps we could,” Spencer agreed, looking around for escape. “We’ll talk soon. I really must check up on Jacqueline.” He hurried off, ignoring Milton’s calling his name.
*
It only took Spencer a few days to realise Milton was absolutely right. With Jacqueline going, a woman would be needed to look after the matters of the house. No matter how he looked at it, the other girls simply weren’t mature or experienced enough, and besides, it wouldn’t be fair to ask it of them. It hadn’t been fair to ask Jacqueline. His only option was to marry.
Though morally, it seemed wrong, and though his mind and body screamed in disgust, Spencer had an obligation to his family, and if it meant yet another sacrifice, he must do it with a smile. All he needed do was hint to Jacqueline his predicament, and things took off before the end of the following week.
Jacqueline had a dozen girlfriends in Atwana, and each of them knew at least one eligible girl of Spencer’s age, or were interested in him themselves. For the moment, at least, Jacqueline had set aside thoughts of her own marriage, and began planning for Spencer’s.
“What about Eloise Cutler?” Jacqueline asked over dinner.
“What about her?” Brendon asked. Jacqueline wiggled her fingers at him dismissively, and his frown deepened. Spencer realised he hadn’t mentioned his new objective to Brendon, seeing as they hadn’t spoken to one another in over a week, but for everyday pleasantries.
“A very sturdy girl,” Gabriel said. He sounded solemn, but Spencer was fairly certain that Gabriel was getting some weird satisfaction and amusement out of this all, at Spencer’s expense. There was really no way of proving it.
Selena pulled a face. “Not Eloise. She always smells like cabbage.” She stuck out her tongue. “I hate cabbage. We’d be having cabbage for dinner every evening.” Spencer sighed, and Brendon looked at them all as if they were speaking in a different language.
“Fine then,” Jacqueline said, exasperated. “Not Eloise, though I think she’s a darling. Christine Madison is very charming. And she doesn’t smell like anything.”
“Christine Madison,” Spencer echoed. “Isn’t she the one with one leg shorter than the other?”
Jacqueline’s face coloured brightly. “Spence! That is no reflection on her worth.”
“I didn’t say it was!” Spencer protested quickly.
“She’s a very nice girl. And very talented. She makes the most beautiful clothing. She could dress the entire family very well, and her mother is the best cook for miles, something I’m certain she’s passed on.”
“I just don’t think I…” Spencer trailed off, running his fingers through his hair. He caught Brendon’s still confused expression from the corner of his eye and steeled himself. “What about Miss Greta?”
“Oh?” Heather said. She wore a little knowing smirk. “Miss Greta has a whole bunch of boys after her,” she said. “They have their little sisters bring her letters to school all the time. But none of them are as wealthy and handsome as you, Spence. I bet you could win her over easy.”
“She is rather pretty,” Jacqueline said thoughtfully.
“And she is very intelligent,” Gabriel said, stroking his chin. “And very fair minded.”
“What on Earth are you all on about?” Brendon demanded.
“Love is in the air,” Selena said with a pointed, dreamy look at Brendon and a great sigh. Brendon’s frown deepened.
Spencer cleared his throat and studied his plate. His heart feeling like a stone in the bottom of his stomach.
"Spence's looking to get himself a bride," Jacqueline said. "Oh, it's so exciting." Spencer shook his head in automatic response.
"That's good," Brendon said. When Spencer’s head snapped up at that, Brendon looked largely uncomfortable. "Just probably do you some good. Having a companion, and all."
Spencer snorted, looking down at his plate again, thinking very uncharitable thoughts toward Brendon. Certainly that would comfort him, to know that Spencer had himself a lover, and wouldn't be throwing himself on Brendon any longer.
*
The whole family went into town on Sundays. There parents had never been very religious, but the church had been so supportive in the early days following their passing that Jacqueline saw it as her duty to take the children to services. Sometimes Spencer joined them, sometimes he would accompany Brendon and Gabriel to the saloon, other times he liked to stroll through the streets. The town was forever changing, new businesses and homes sprouting up in the empty spaces.
Today, as the children took off laughing to join their friends in the church yard, Gabriel tugged on Spencer’s sleeve. “Looks like the new library is open now.”
Spencer frowned in that direction. Indeed, the front door was open to the breezy warm morning. “On a Sunday?”
“Talk around the tavern is the owner’s one of those freethinking, atheistic fellows,” Brendon said. “He probably would have been better received somewhere on the coast.”
Ever since word had gone around that a library would be opening in Atwana, Spencer had been waiting impatiently. “Come on, let’s go see.” Brendon and Gabriel exchanged a look, shrugged, and followed as Spencer led the way.
The library took up the first floor of a rather grand house, which had been under construction for a good part of the previous year. When they stepped inside, Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The floor plan was open and airy, and every wall was lined, floor to ceiling, in shelves packed full of books.
There was a large, beautifully detailed table in the grand room, covered in open books and littered with papers. Chairs and stools were tucked in corners, and in one of those sat a very well-dressed man, legs crossed at the knees, nose buried in a large tome.
“Excuse me,” Spencer said.
The man lowered his book slightly. His face was starkly pale against the long fall of dark hair, and his aristocratic features were set in an appraising look. “I hadn’t expected any visitors today,” he said.
“Then why are you open?” Gabriel asked, in that belligerent tone that alternately amused Spencer, or annoyed him.
A single brow arched, full lips pursed. “Because I choose to be,” the man said. He took a bookmark from the small table at his side and closed his book before standing. His legs were impossibly long. Even Spencer, who was considered tall, felt dwarfed by him as he only ever did with Gabriel.
“And you gentlemen? What brings you to my door rather than God’s?” he asked.
Brendon had an odd, dodgy look about him, and Gabriel’s stance was one of open defiance. Neither of them seemed to have a response to that, either because they couldn’t form one or didn’t care to, Spencer couldn’t say. “I prefer reason and science to religion, myself,” Spencer said in the silence.
The man gave him a smile that Spencer could only describe as devious. “A man after my own heart,” he said. “I’m William Beckett.” He offered a cool, dry hand for Spencer to shake.
“Spencer Smith. And these are my companions, Gabriel Saporta, and Brendon…” Most of the time Spencer forgot he didn’t actually know Brendon’s last name, and whenever he realised it, he was always momentarily unsettled.
“Just Brendon is fine,” Brendon said. He held out his hand to shake as well. Gabriel only nodded in greeting.
Mister Beckett looked only mildly taken aback by their behaviour, and focussed on Spencer. “Well, Mister Smith—”
“Spencer, please,” he said.
“And you may call me William. So, Spencer, is there anything I can help you find today, or did you come simply to browse?”
Spencer shook his head, still vaguely awed by the presence of all these books. Certainly it was nothing like the libraries in New York, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd missed having a library desperately. “I’ve not had the opportunity to visit a library in years. I’m afraid I have no idea what I’ve missed.”
“Of course I could make a number of suggestions, if you so desire,” William said.
“I’ll let you know.” Spencer wandered away and was aware of the soft murmur of conversation. Gabriel must have asked why William had chosen Atwana for opening his library, rather than a larger city, where he might be better received.
“I’ve lived in large cities,” William was saying. “Chicago, Baltimore, San Francisco. I prefer the quiet of smaller towns. The slower pace. And I hardly care what others think of me.”
Spencer wondered if William sincerely meant what he said, and figured he must, if he’d built his library here and opened on a Sunday. He was a little envious of the man, to be honest. Spencer still cared far too much what others thought of him to be honest about his inner thoughts.
Brendon was at the table, looking over the notes and open books. “This looks like Iroquoian,” he said.
That got William and Gabriel’s attention. “I’ve seen something like this, near Erie,” Gabriel said, leaning in to examine the foreign symbols on the page.
“It’s Laurentian, actually,” William said. “You both have a good eye for the native languages. This particular form of Iroquoian is long dead. I’ve been reading the journals of some of the explorers to the St. Lawrence River, trying to expand on their translations.”
“That’s quite an undertaking, and one I can’t imagine will be met with much interest,” Gabriel said.
“I don’t do it for recognition,” William said. “I do it because it interests me.”
Spencer made his way into another of the rooms where he could only hear their voices, not their words. He was intrigued to learn more about William’s project, and how Brendon knew what Indian languages looked like, but the draw of the books was greater. By the time the clock tower chimed at noon, he had a stack of books to borrow.
“You should come by the house for dinner one evening,” Spencer said, after he’d finished filling out the form for his subscription and paying the fee. “It’s so refreshing to encounter a like-minded individual.”
William glanced at Gabriel out of the corner of his eye, and smiled. “I’d be quite pleased to dine with you. Let me know when and where.”
Outside the streets were bustling with activity, the members of the community pouring forth from the church. Now that it had been made known that the head of the Smith Orchard and Farm was looking for a wife, advances were made at a startling rate. These days Spencer couldn't go to town without being followed by a gaggle of giggling girls, and most times there were one or two bold enough to approach him and engage him in conversation.
For the large part, they were simpering idiots, looking for a good marriage. Occasionally Spencer came across one with unnerving intelligence and unerring notion that they would be Spencer's wife. They were even worse, because Spencer worried that if he didn’t stay on guard, he might find himself accidentally wed to one of them.
Today he simply did not feel up to it. He quickly tucked his books away in the carriage and made his way to the saloon, where he could be certain the girls wouldn’t follow. Gabriel, however, lingered at the door of the library, talking to William. Brendon had beat Spencer to the saloon and was already at the bar with a drink in hand and a woman at his shoulder. Spencer refused to care.
