An Irishman's Pledge

Chapter 1

"When will Calen be back?" Maggie asked, poking her head through the doorway into the kitchen, where Katrina was folding laundry at the table.

"Before midday," Katrina answered, not looking up from her task.

Maggie frowned. Knowing her brother, he had not offered up any more  information than that. They had a long day of travel ahead of them and she was itching to get started.

She crossed her bedroom to stand before her half packed trunk again. She had been invited to stay in Trenton with Calen's fiancee, Micara, at her aunt's estate. Calen had been back and forth to Trenton for the better part of a month now, and their engagement was to be officially announced to morrow night at a banquet at Micara's Aunt Gladys' home. Calen would leave the following day on a trapping expedition to fund the completion of his cabin, so that they might marry. He would be gone for several months, and Maggie was to stay with Micara to distract her from loneliness until he returned.

Maggie examined the frayed cuff of her green Sunday dress. The fabric was worn and faded from a bright, emerald to a dry-grass green, and even the starched collar was limp. She had already folded her best dress, a gift from Micara, and packed it. It made the rest of the trunk's contents look even shabbier than they already had.

She plucked her brown wool work dress from the trunk. She wrinkled her nose. There was no way she would be caught dead in Trenton society wearing such a frock. She dropped it and kicked it under the bed.

Next, she made a bold decision. She stripped from the green Sunday dress and pulled the forest green and brown plaid out fit from the trunk. Because it was a gift from Micara, she had preserved it carefully, wearing it only on special occasions. But today must count as special, after all, she was leaving her dreary cabin life for the grand city of Trenton.

She pulled the supple fabric over her shabby chemise. Her mum had altered it to fit her, as well as created a hair piece from the extra length from the bottom of the skirt. Maggie laced herself in and then swept her hair up and pinned in the fabric embellishment.

Her Sunday dress joined the other, under the bed.

She examined the little remains in her trunk, hesitating with the threadbare night dress, but left it inside. She would not bother Micara with her clothing predicament on the first night of her stay. That would seem too orchestrated.

She frowned again and then rescued the green dress from under the bed. It might prove useful.

She slammed the lid down on the barren trunk after a final glance around the room , and fastened it. She would not see this room for quite some time, and that suited her just fine.

She opened the door and waltzed into the kitchen, drawing a raised eyebrow from Katrina at the change of wardrobe. Maggie ignored her and went to the window.

Will had said he would come by early and help Calen before they all three left. Maggie was watching for him. If she played her cards right, she would be in Trenton well before nightfall.

She hmphed at the empty river.

She had been waiting for this day all month. Well, in reality, she had been waiting all her life for this day, the day she would finally leave her little backwoods cabin in her wake. She did not belong here. She had known that since her childhood. The woods didn't embrace her as they did Katrina. The homestead didn't flourish under her hand like it did for Mum. She belonged in silk and lace, taking tea and enchanting a room of gentlemen callers. Like Micara. Or rather, like Micara should have been had she not met Calen.

Maggie huffed in annoyance as she checked the window again. Will had still not shown up.

"Waitin' on 'im will nae hurry 'im here," Katrina intoned.