A week passed without a sign of the bear. Sometimes Nora felt a creeping feeling up her back and neck as if someone were watching her, but when she looked around, there was no one. It made her jumpy, enough so that both Julia and Bess commented on it. She couldn’t explain it, so she said she was fine and hoped they didn’t notice how tight her smile was.
The long days of harvest ended. William was no longer needed to help in the fields, and even Papa and John were given an afternoon off. Nora wished their afternoon could have been a rare sunny one, but rain drooped down, casting a dreary pall over the countryside. She supposed they must find it a relief to be inside on a rainy day rather than out working in the mud. Mama had no jobs that day either, so the whole family was home.
The twins played hide and seek in the bedrooms with Patience and Henry. William sat at the kitchen table with a book he’d borrowed from the lending library. He’d convinced the librarian to teach him to read, and now he haltingly read aloud, dragging one finger along the lines of words as he went. Nora felt a swelling of pride in her younger brother for doing something no one else in the family had. Julia sat and listened to William while mending Bess’s spare frock, which was threadbare from having been worn by both Nora and Julia before her. Mama stood by the fire, stirring a pot of preserves with a long-handled spoon while Nora laid out the jars.
Papa and John rested in their chairs, legs stretched out long. Papa’s eyes were closed, but the occasional twitches of a smile that crossed his face at the conversations around him or the happy hollering from the next room proved that he wasn’t napping. John had out his knife and a bit of wood, and he was shaping it into something that Nora couldn’t guess at yet. John never told them what he was making, just allowed them to speculate until the piece was done and they could all see for themselves.
It was a cozy day, despite the rain, and Nora felt warm and happy in the love of her family.
A thumping on the garden door interrupted William’s reading, causing Papa to open his eyes and straighten. Mama wiped her sleeve across her sweating face and looked around, surprised. The thumping came again, and Nora froze. That wasn’t a normal knock. Why was someone at the back door? And who of their neighbors would be out in this rain?
John laid his wood and knife on the table and rose to open the door. Everyone gasped. Filling the doorframe was the white bear.
The room fell utterly silent but for the crackling of the fire and the patter of rain outside. Patience could be faintly heard from the other room, counting.
The bear held a leather pouch dangling from its mouth by the string. It dropped the pouch on the floor at its feet, its beady black eyes roaming the room until they landed on Nora. She held her breath. After a long look, the bear’s eyes slid to her father, who now stood between the doorway and the rest of the family.
“I wish to make an offer for your daughter Honora.”
The deep and rumbling voice suited the mountain of a bear, Nora thought, unable to wrap her mind around the words themselves.
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
Her family stared between her and the bear. Papa finally found his voice. “Never mind that, what makes you think we’d accept any offer you make? I won’t give my daughter to a beast.”
“My name is Alek Davies,” the bear rumbled, rain running along its long neck and narrow head to drip from its muzzle onto the kitchen floor. “I am not entirely what I seem. And I think you’ll find my offer is very generous.”
Papa scoffed, but Nora stepped forward. “How generous?”
“An annuity of two hundred pounds a year to your family.” The bear’s glittering eyes held hers. She heard gasps from her family, but her attention remained fixed on the bear. “School tuition for your brothers—” A sharp inhale from William—“and a dowry of ten pounds each for your sisters.”
The room seemed to spin around Nora, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. That kind of money would be life-changing. Her family would have enough to eat all winter. Her siblings could have new clothes, rather than patching and repairing frocks that barely had enough fabric left to sew together. William—dear, studious William—could get an education. John may be too old to care much about school, but Nolan and Henry could have a chance at a better future too. And her sisters would have the opportunity to marry well. Everything Nora had ever wished for her family was being offered to her. All she had to do was accept.
“No.” John’s sharp refusal cut through her thoughts. “We won’t sacrifice our sister for all the money in the world.”
Nora frowned at him, seeing him anew. He was still her younger brother, but his expression was fierce and protective, and she saw a hint of the manly strength he’d grow into. She felt a warm pride and affection, mingled with annoyance that he tried to speak for her.
“Sacrifice?” The bear’s deep voice sounded only mildly curious. “Who said anything about sacrifice? Miss Sheppard will come to no harm. I need a wife, but it would be in name only. I would ask nothing of her beyond coming to keep house with me.”
Nora wanted to ask why—why did he need a wife of convenience, and why did he want her?—but she couldn’t make the words come out. Papa came to Nora and laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, his weather-beaten face furrowed into a concerned frown.
“Nora?” he murmured. “What say you? I will not make this decision for you because you must live with the outcome.”
Every face turned toward her; every breath held. Nora met the bear’s gaze again.
He bent his head to nudge the pouch forward across the floor. “Here are twenty pounds to start,” he rumbled. “And you will be receiving word from Mr. John Everett of Everett and Lowell in London with details on the annuity.”
He couldn’t possibly know that William was the only one among them who could read. But the librarian or Sir Kimble would help Papa if asked.
Nora tried not to let the pouch of coins on the floor distract her, though it was a staggering sum all on its own to offer for a girl like her. She studied the bear, taking inventory of her feelings beyond the overwhelming shock and confusion. It—he, the bear, Alek Davies—stared back at her, inscrutable and mysterious, but she wasn’t frightened. She was intrigued. And his offer was beyond generous.
“I accept,” she said softly.
Papa’s hand tightened on Nora’s shoulder. Mama sobbed and rushed over to pull her into a hug. After a long moment, Papa addressed the bear, his voice cracking. “Have you a marriage license?”
“We’ll go to Scotland,” the bear said. “No man of the cloth would marry someone like me in the Church of England.” He looked again at Nora. “We’ll leave at dawn.”
She nodded. He backed out of the doorway, giving them a brief glimpse of the drenched garden before John kicked the pouch of coins out of the way, slammed the door shut, and bolted it. Nora’s brother whirled to face her.
“What were you thinking, agreeing to marry a monster?” he demanded.
“He’s not a monster,” Nora protested.
“He’s a bear,” William put in. “I remember seeing pictures of them in a book at the library. Right, Nor?”
Nora nodded. “He has a human name, and he can talk. Obviously, he’s under a spell of some kind.”
“All the more reason not to marry him!” John ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Why get mixed up with magic when you can settle to a good life with Sloane here in the village?”
Nora wasn’t sure how to answer that. She had never pretended to feel more for Martin Sloane than she did, but it wasn’t as if she loved this Alek Davies either. Something about the bear called to her.
Maybe it was the very magic that John was cautioning against. Magic was the realm of the Fae and the wealthy, those who could afford an education in spell-work. It had been so far beyond Nora’s reach that she’d given up dreaming of learning even the most basic spells when she’d been Bess’s age.
Maybe it was the thrill of adventure, something Nora had only experienced in her imagination. Even the smallest change from the monotony of daily survival would be welcome, and this would not be small.
Perhaps it was even the hint of desperation about him, whatever had caused him to offer such an exorbitantly imbalanced proposition. He needed her.
“He promised me more than Martin Sloane ever could.”
Nora almost cringed as the words left her mouth. How mercenary did that sound? And, yes, she was mercenary, but only for the sake of her family. She wasn’t solely referring to the financial aspect, either, though she doubted her brother would see that.
John opened his mouth to argue more, but Papa put up his hand. “Enough. Nora has made her decision, and we’ll respect that.”
Nora smiled at her father gratefully. He might not love her choice, but he stood by it. John grumbled as he returned to his seat and began to cut into his block of wood with more violence than before. William blinked around at everyone before returning to his book. Though Julia’s hands still held her mending, they sat motionless, and she watched Nora with wide eyes that glittered wetly in the firelight.
Don’t cry, Nora thought, turning quickly back to the preserves over the fire and stirring them. Neither she nor Julia were watering pots, but if one of them started, the other would follow. Nora knew she’d done what was best for her family, but that didn’t mean saying goodbye would be easy.
For tea that night they had bread they’d baked that morning, a bit of cheese, and some apples. It wasn’t nearly enough, and Nora felt justified again in her decision. Tomorrow Mama would take a coin from the bear’s pouch to the market and buy enough for everyone to have a full stomach. That thought warmed Nora despite the awkwardness of the conversation around the table. The younger children had heard of their visitor, probably from William, and were bubbling over with curiosity. Nolan and Bess were disappointed not to have seen the bear, Patience kept asking questions about what he looked like, and even Henry tilted his tousled head adorably and said, “Bear?” Their enthusiasm was counterbalanced by silence from John and Julia, and even Mama and Papa said little.
Nora excused herself from the table early, unable to take another uncomfortable minute. She found a clean, empty flour sack and brought it to the parlor room. Her spare dress and stockings were in the trunk at the foot of the bed, sharing space with her sisters’. With those packed, she sank onto the edge of the bed and looked around. She’d pack her nightdress in the morning, but beyond that, she had nothing else to bring. The comb she shared with her sisters would stay here with them. Any doll or toy she’d ever owned had long since been passed along to a younger sibling, and none of them were things to be kept by a soon-to-be-married woman.
Mama found her there, a small bundle of cloth in her hands. She sat beside Nora and silently unwrapped the bundle, revealing neatly cut squares and larger scraps of fabric that Nora recognized as pieces from older garments that had been too worn to be patched or saved. There were pieces from a blue plaid shirt John and William had both worn and part of a dress that Patience had torn only weeks ago.
“I was saving these to sew your wedding quilt,” Mama said, a catch in her voice. “I thought we’d have time to work on it together.”
Nora felt a catch in her own chest. She’d imagined that too, spending the time between proposal and wedding with her mother and sisters, sewing the top of the quilt that would grace her marriage bed. Mama and Papa still slept under the one Mama had sewn with her mother two decades before, and her grandparents’ quilt was the one that hung as a curtain to divide the room. It was a family tradition that she’d always intended to continue.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wished her choice hadn’t taken that special time from Mama, but she couldn’t regret the decision itself.
Mama shook her head, folding the fabric back up. “These are for you anyway,” she said, setting the bundle on Nora’s lap and pushing to her feet. “Even if you sew the quilt yourself, you’ll keep the love of your family close.”
She bent and kissed the top of Nora’s head, then disappeared back into the kitchen.
Nora tucked the scrap fabric into her flour sack and then sat alone for another minute, only emerging when she heard the bustle from the kitchen declaring tea at an end. She helped clean up, shepherded her siblings through their bedtime routine, and got into bed herself. Nora lay awake, silently staring into the darkness as she listened to her siblings’ breathing. She could tell when Bess dropped off to sleep, and she recognized both John’s and Nolan’s snores. Julia, she thought, was still awake, so she wasn’t surprised when her sister huddled closer to her and whispered in her ear.
“Are you sure?”
Nora nodded silently.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
She shook her head slightly. Her life was about to change completely, and that made her stomach knot with nerves, but she had no fear of the bear.
“You’re the bravest of us,” Julia whispered, resting her head on Nora’s shoulder. She was silent for a long time before adding, “I’ll miss you.”
Nora turned just slightly and kissed the top of her sister’s head. “Same,” she breathed. A tightness in her throat kept her from saying more, and she blinked into the darkness to stop the tears from falling. One escaped and slid down her cheek anyway.
They fell asleep like that. Nora woke in the dark, only dim gray showing through the window. Dawn was still an hour away, but she had no hope of falling back asleep. She carefully maneuvered out of the bed, sliding her pillow under Julia’s head before her sister could wake. She dressed silently, folded her nightdress and stuffed it into the top of her flour sack, and tiptoed from the room with her bundle in hand. In the kitchen, she built up the fire. Mama had left bread rising overnight, and Nora slid it into the oven once it warmed so that it would be ready when the others got up. Nora didn’t have time to wait for the bread, so she made boiled porridge in a pot, stirring in a dollop of the preserves they’d made. She ate it slowly, savoring the sweetness of the fruit, forcing herself to finish the bowl despite her nerve-reduced appetite. Whatever this day had in store, she’d need the energy.
She washed the pot and bowl and put them away. The light outside was growing. Nora found a long piece of twine and used it to tie her sack of clothing. An extra couple of knots created a loop that she slung over her head and shoulder so that her bundle hung secure in the center of her back.
A muffled movement from one of the bedrooms made her freeze, glancing at the doorway. She grabbed her boots before slipping out into the garden barefoot and pulling the door softly closed behind her. The empty garden sparkled with dew as the dawn brightened. Nora crouched to tie on her boots, and when she straightened again, he was there.
Nora had always found dawn to be a magical time, balanced as it was between night and day. It suited the bear somehow. He glowed faintly in the growing light as he stood on the far side of the garden, watching her.
Nora crossed silently to stand in front of him. They stood eye to eye. His front legs were nearly as long as her entire body. This close, his narrow head looked huge. Nora took a slow, shaky breath.
“Are you ready, Miss Sheppard?”
Nora steeled herself to ask the question she hadn’t voiced last night. “Why?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why did you ask me to marry you?”
“It seemed an arrangement that will benefit us both,” he rumbled. “I get the wife I require, and you get a comfortable future for yourself and your family.”
But why do you require a wife? Nora opened her mouth to ask, but the bear forestalled her.
“I shall explain more at another time. For now, we must be on our way.”
“How are we to get to Scotland?”
“You shall ride me.”
He lowered himself to lie on his belly. Even lying, she had to scramble awkwardly to get onto his back. “Sorry,” she mumbled as her knee caught him in the ribs. He didn’t respond as he waited for her to get settled. Nora tucked her skirt around her legs. She’d never ridden a horse, but she was certain riders had something to hold onto—straps of leather or the horse’s mane or something. Of course, bears were nothing like horses. She doubted anyone had ever ridden one before, so she oughtn’t feel awkward if she didn’t know how.
“How am I to stay on?” She hated the tremor in her voice.
“Cling with your knees,” the bear said. “Lean forward and hold onto my neck.”
Nora obeyed.
He pushed himself up to his feet. “Ready?”
“Yes, sir,” she said softly, sending one last long look toward the cottage where she’d grown up.
For a second, she thought she saw someone in the kitchen window, watching, maybe waving. But before she could be sure, the bear turned and loped away, through the meadow and north.
Copyright 2025 by Eliza Prokopovits
