Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) (2 page)

Even if I wrote Mr. Witherspoon a letter, it would take another month before we met and wed. What would I do with myself during this time? The money would run out long before, unless I found somewhere cheaper to live or employment.

They’re always looking for washerwomen …

Perhaps I could put in for a factory job to tide me over until I married. Crossing the street, I nearly stepped in manure, my booted feet finding a small puddle instead, which splashed the hem of the skirt with muck. I wrapped my arms around myself, holding the jacket together, feeling unwanted and discarded, an emotion that continued to resonate in my life. To compound matters, I would soon to be separated from the only friends I had ever known.

Who was John Witherspoon? What was West Virginia like? Would the air smell sweet there? Most of the factories in Lawrence belched filth from their chimneys night and day, the odor of tar and burning coal common. Would the skies be blue in Clarksburg, rather than this perpetual solemn grey? Would it be a place I could come to love? What about my future husband? I knew absolutely nothing about him. If I decided to send a letter, I would be placing all my faith in God. He had let me down too often already.

Could I dare to trust again?

Chapter Two

Clarksburg, West Virginia

October 1890

Waiting at the railway station with my bags, I eyed an approaching carriage; the “growler” was sleek and black, sporting a liveried driver. A twinge of apprehension drifted through me, but not for the first time since I had left Massachusetts. Having corresponded with Mr. John Witherspoon briefly, I knew him to be older, although he declined to reveal his exact age. Having retired from the Virginia state legislature after two terms, he moved to Clarksburg to oversee a partnership in several coal mines.

I was about to marry a wealthy man. All of my dreams were about to come true … but why did I feel something akin to fear, the sensation skittering down my back, cold and foreboding. If, by some chance, this union went horribly wrong, I knew I could count on my friends, Isabelle, Tabitha, Lilly, and Hope to help me. They sought similar marriages, having traveled to other places to meet and marry strangers.

The coach stopped before me, the driver alighting. “Miss Kroger, I presume?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’m Roger French. I’m to take you to the courthouse.” He eyed the bags, the leather having worn off around the edges. They had belonged to my mother. “Are these your things?”

“Yes, sir.”

He grasped the first one. “Very well.”

Remaining where I was, I eyed the surroundings, the mountains looming on all sides. People passed me, some leaving on foot, while others took carriages to wherever their destinations might be. Several families waited on the platform for the next train, standing with their luggage.

“All right.” Mr. French smiled pleasantly. He held the door. “Here you are, Miss Kroger.”

“Thank you.”

I stepped into the carriage, the aroma of leather lingering. It smelled faintly of brass polish as well, the metal gleaming on the knobs and hardware. I settled into the seat, feeling slightly faint from not having eaten since yesterday. I changed trains several times, spending the night in Philadelphia. The driver directed the horses into the street, the thoroughfare dusty. From where I sat, the town did not look especially large, the surrounding forest threatening to close in at any moment.

Opening the window a crack, I found the air refreshing, and it did smell clean and sweet, a welcome change from the noxious odors of Lawrence. We turned onto a larger street, shops and houses lining either side, the buildings several stories tall, constructed of brick. People strolled by, while all manner of conveyance passed.

I longed to ask the driver about Mr. Witherspoon. What was he like? What did he look like? Was he a kind man? But I kept these questions to myself, staring out the window at the town, which was far smaller than I imagined it would be. The carriage stopped a moment later, not having driven far at all.

“Are we here already?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Witherspoon is waiting inside.”

Why hadn’t he come to the train station? “All right.” I reached for the door, intending to open it myself, but Mr. French preceded me.

He let down the steps, offering his arm. “He’s waiting for you.”

I eyed the driver, noting his youth, although his manner made him seem older. “Thank you.” My booted feet firmly on the ground, I stared at the skirt I wore, noting a faint stain near the hem. I changed my clothing in Philadelphia, wearing a yellow shirtwaist with a dark grey jacket and deep blue skirt. This was one of my better outfits.

Taking to the steps, I eyed the three-story building, the brick newly made. A woman stood at the top, wearing a bell-shaped skirt and fawn-colored jacket. Smiling, she held a bouquet of flowers. “You must be Trinity Kroger. I’m Mrs. Lilith Dexter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She held out a hand.

I stared into her ruddy face, seeing kindness in her eyes. “Hello. Yes, it’s me.”

“I’m the housekeeper. I was sent to get you. Mr. Witherspoon is waiting, my dear.”

The driver remained at the base of the steps. I assumed he would deliver us home after the ceremony. “The flowers are lovely.”

“Here you are.” She handed them to me. “They’re yours.” Someone opened the door behind her. “Let’s go in, shall we? He’s been expecting you for an hour.” A man and a woman exited the building, beaming.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know the train was delayed.”

“You’re fine, my dear. He’s … well, he’s eager to proceed.”

“I see.” Again, a tiny prickle of anxiety raced through me. I was about to meet my intended for the first time, minutes before I married him. I hesitated, my feet halting at the threshold.

“You’re a brave young thing to travel all this way to marry a stranger.” She glanced at me expectantly. “Are you coming?”

“Yes.” I gritted my teeth, knowing it was too late to change my mind. Mr. Witherspoon paid for the train ticket and the lodging in Philadelphia. He sent spending cash as well. I agreed to be his wife. I … had to marry him now.

The hollow entranceway echoed, ringing with the sounds of conversation and feet shuffling, as people came and went. Several doors led to offices, a clerk sitting behind a counter at the far end, where a man stood, holding a cane. The newspaper in his other hand held his attention. I glanced at Mrs. Dexter questioningly.

“That’s Mr. Witherspoon.”

My future husband’s hair had greyed completely, his posture slightly bowed. The cut of his sack coat bespoke expensive tailoring, the cane polished to a high shine. He wasn’t much taller than I, his figure portly. This was hardly the sort of person I dreamed of marrying. I took an inadvertent step back, encountering someone who had entered the building.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“Sorry.”

“Would you like me to introduce you?” Mrs. Dexter smiled politely. “It’s a strange situation, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed.” My spirits flattened—considerably.

“He’s a kind gentleman. You’ll find him friendly. He’s fair with his staff. I’ve been in his employ for more than ten yours now. I knew his late wife, Mrs. Jacqueline Witherspoon.”

“Oh.”

Mrs. Dexter leaned in, whispering, “You’ll find there are a few benefits to marrying a distinguished gentleman. He may not be young or devilishly handsome, but he can offer all the comforts a young lady could ever wish for.”

“He’s told me as much in his letter.”

She glanced at my apparel. “You’re in need of tending to, Miss Kroger, if you don’t mind me saying so. Mr. Witherspoon can afford to transform you, my dear. You won’t even recognize yourself when he’s finished lavishing you with furs and jewels.”

Had I dreamed of something that extravagant? All I had ever hoped for was a husband I could love, a house of my own, no matter how small, and children. “I’m just … ” a wave of dizziness had me swaying, “just a little hungry.”

“When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Y-yesterday.”

“You are far too thin.” Her look narrowed. “Will you be able to stand through the ceremony?”

“I should.”

“We had best get to it then, hadn’t we?”

“Yes, Mrs. Dexter.”

“Lilith. Please call me Lilith.”

“Please call me Trinity.”

Sensing we had arrived, Mr. Witherspoon turned on his heel to look at us, his expression stern, the lines between his eyes deeply grooved. A greying beard hid fleshy jowls, his cheeks tinged red. “Is that you, Miss Kroger?” The pitch of his voice sounded higher than I expected. “Is this my young bride?” That question resounded in the foyer, several people turning to look at us.

I wanted to flee, my instincts telling me to run, but a firm hand landed on my lower back, Mrs. Dexter, saying, “Now’s the time to smile, my dear. Come meet your soon-to-be-husband.”

Ever since I lost my parents at the age of three, the glass fate had given me seemed perpetually half empty, my luck horrid. I either married this fellow on the spot, or I returned to Boston and submitted myself to poor lodgings, even poorer employment, and a life of labor. Those were my choices.

Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, I squared my shoulders. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” Mrs. Dexter escorted me towards Mr. Witherspoon, his rheumy eyes drifting over me. “Here she is, sir. Fresh from Boston. Your lovely bride, Miss Trinity Kroger.”

“Lovely indeed.” His grin revealed yellow and brown teeth, a few having been removed. “She is a vision.”

His smell drifted over me, the slightly sour hint of body odor. Tobacco smoke clung to his sack coat. “H-hello.”

“She’s a mite shy, sir.” Mrs. Dexter released the grip she had on my lower back, as a man approached.

“Shall we begin?” He held several pieces of paper. “I’ve a few documents you need to sign. Then we can begin the ceremony and make it official.”

It felt as if the room spun, my senses revolting. I should have eaten something today, but I hadn’t wanted to waste the money. Mrs. Dexter, perceiving I might not be feeling well, held me by the shoulders, her grip surprisingly firm.

“We really should adjourn to the next room then. Miss Kroger’s rather famished. The sooner, the better, I say. Then she can have some refreshment.”

Mr. Witherspoon frowned. “Are you ill, my dear?”

“No,” I managed. “I’m f-fine.”

He took my hand, his feeling ice cold. “Let me assist you.”

With a cane in one hand and mine firmly captured in the other, we strolled towards a set of doors, the housekeeper holding them open. As I passed through them, I felt as if I died. This freed my spirit to float from my body… higher towards a plastered ceiling, where I looked down upon the scene before me. This was not how I envisioned my wedding. This was not my dream; it was a nightmare.

Chapter Three

“There. Done. You’re as good as married,” said the judicial officer, who presided over the ceremony. “Congratulations.” He grinned broadly.

I glanced blankly at my husband, who smiled smugly. The ring he slid onto my finger felt cold, the gold heavy. I had come back to my senses after being pronounced Mrs. John Witherspoon, but it was too late now to change my mind. We were legally wed. I had honored my agreement to become an old man’s wife. Now … could I live with it?

“Stop!” A voice barked from the doorway. “Don’t go any further!” A tall, lean man strode into the room, his boots clicking on the wooden floor. “These two cannot marry.”

“I’m afraid you’re a tad late, sir,” said the judicial officer. “They are legally wed.”

I stared at the man, seeing someone in a grey coat with black trousers, his dark hair tousled. He looked as if he had been running, his chest rising and falling. He glared at Mr. Witherspoon—my husband.

“I told you this was foolish! You never should’ve gone through with it.”

Unperturbed, Mr. Witherspoon grinned. “Is that any way to congratulate your father? I’ve a new bride, Nathanial. The least you can do is offer us your compliments.”

Stunned by the intrusion, I stared at the man, realizing he was … oh, gracious; he was my stepson! I felt certain he was older than me by several years.

“I warned you against this foolishness. To marry a complete stranger; are you mad? I know losing mother has been difficult, but … but to start over again at your age with someone,” he glanced at me, “this young?” He hadn’t looked at me before, but he did so now, his gaze lingering on my face. He blinked rapidly, as if adjusting his eyesight. “She’s far too young for you.”

“That may be, but this woman has agreed to enter into marriage all the same. We signed the paperwork. We’ve had the ceremony. We’re married.”

I managed to remain standing, although I felt terribly dizzy, the floor shifting beneath my feet. The lack of food, the lack of sleep, as I had tossed and turned all night long, had taken its toll. Meeting my … my stepson, who had barged into the room in a fit of anger, added to the strain of the day. Swallowing, my mouth felt dry, while a sheen of moisture lined my forehead, which felt cold and clammy like the palms of my hands. A strange tingly sensation began at the top of my head, the feeling drifting over me …

“She’s going to faint!” warned Lilith.

And then I did, but, instead of my hitting the floor, a pair of strong hands grabbed me, and then I remembered nothing more, the world going black.

***

The jostling of a carriage woke me, my head rolling against a soft leather seat. I became aware of a conversation.

“What in the blazes are you doing?” asked an angry voice.

“It’s so rare that I’m blessed by your presence, Nathanial. I can’t tell you how gladdened I am that you came, but I don’t care for your tone in the least. I’m a grown man. I may do as I wish. I intend to live the rest of my years with a pretty young woman, who shall keep me quite happy.”

“She’s younger than I am!”

“I never did ask her age.”