Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) (8 page)

Mrs. Dexter brought in tea, a folded letter on the silver tray. I eyed it, feeling a wave of anticipation. I forced my look to remain bland, as she filled my cup.

“I hope you slept well, Trinity.”

“I did, thank you.”

She smiled slightly. “There’s correspondence as well.”

“I see that. Thank you.” I waited until she left the room, reaching for the letter. It was from Nathanial.

My Dearest Trinity,

I have not heard from you in quite a while. I am still waiting to hear if you are with child. Why have you not written me? Is something wrong? Are you unwell? I long to hear from you. Good Lord, I sound like a lovelorn suitor. I should tear this up and throw it out.

I have refrained from purchasing more things for you. I would never typically enter a woman’s store, but when I was there for you, I enjoyed it vastly. Are you certain I cannot send you things? Is there anything you need for the house?

On a side note, I feel I must offer for Victoria. I have been a bachelor too long or, perhaps, not long enough. It would be easier, if you would advise me. I would like to hear your feelings on this matter. I do hope you will write again. Did I say something to offend you? If I did, please forgive me.

If you do not write me in return, I shall be forced to ask Mrs. Dexter what the matter is. Know that I wish only the best for you. I do not want to cause you further distress.

Yours truly,

Nathanial

I sighed, knowing I would have to write him now. Getting to my feet, the bottom of the chair scraped on the polished wood floor. In the hallway, I hurried towards the servant’s stairs, finding Mrs. Dexter in the kitchen.

“I need the key to the desk, please.”

She smiled pleasantly. “Yes, of course.” Withdrawing a bundle of metal from within the pocket of her apron, she slid a key off a large metal clasp. “Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

After returning to my room, I sat at the desk writing.

Nathanial,

Yes, I am with child. I am feeling fine. I have been thinking about our correspondence quite a bit. I do so wish to continue it, but you must know I do not feel the slightest bit of friendship for you. I have been sorting out my emotions over these lonely weeks, and I have come to the conclusion that I adore you. I should not, of course, but I do. Therefore, I must ask that we do not write one another again.

Yours, Trinity

I folded the paper carefully, scrawling his address. Ending our secret communication did not bring me joy or relief in the least. I felt just as miserable now as I had before, but what else was I to do? I could not continue to tease myself with his letters, finding them far too diverting. Or could I?

Handing the letter over to Mrs. Dexter to mail, doubt prickled at me. An hour later, I sought her out, finding her folding napkins in the dining room. “Mrs. Dexter.”

“Yes?” She smiled slightly.

“Has the post gone out yet?”

“It has.”

“Drat.” I turned on my heel, striding from the room. I regretted giving her the letter now, but I hardly knew what to do with myself.

***

During the next week, morning callers offered a distraction, Mrs. Hanover arriving without her children. We sat and talked in the parlor, the light streaming in through the lace curtains.

“Mrs. Watson wants to resume the knitting club. We rotate houses. It’s quite diverting. I’ve gotten some marvelous decoration ideas from seeing other parlors. You can join us, if you wish.”

I sipped tea, nodding. “That sounds nice.” Elise and I had spoken several times a week since first meeting, but we had never delved into anything remotely personal.

“Might I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How do you feel about … your marriage?”

“My marriage?”

“The age difference.”

I placed the cup in a dainty saucer. “Yes, that. I wasn’t expecting it to be so extreme, to tell you the truth.”

“A mutual friend arranged for the wedding.”

“Yes.” I did not know if I could trust her in the least, my first reaction was always to be cautious around people. I had been burned far too many times in the past. “Sort of an arranged marriage.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Trinity, I do hope we can be friends. I won’t betray your confidence, if that’s what you’re worried about. I won’t run around all over town spreading gossip either. I swear.”

“I would hope not.”

“I’ve ascertained a few things since meeting you.”

“You have?”

“Yes. You’re all alone in the world. You’re reticent to speak of personal things, truly personal things. You’re quite guarded. I have to ask why, but I’m not certain you’ll tell me.”

“Everyone has something they wish to keep to themselves. I’m no different.”

“Well, maybe one day you’ll share more with me. I don’t mean to pry. I tend to be too open about things. I told you about my crush on Nathanial. I told you about that first kiss.” She smiled wistfully. “What fond memories. I hear he’s engaged.”

I blinked. “He, what?” That particular piece of information had escaped me, my heart twisting painfully.

“Doctor Watson was just in Boston for a conference. He said he saw it posted in the paper.” She eyed me carefully.

I stared at my nails. “He mentioned he might do it.”

“Have you met Victoria?”

“No.”

“Nor have I. He must be smitten.”

My last letter had pushed him to finally offer for her, which had been my intention. But, why did I feel like someone had just taken a blunt knife and carved my heart out?”

“Are you unwell?”

“A … I’m a little queasy.” I patted my belly. “The baby.”

“I was terribly sick early in my pregnancy. I couldn’t keep anything down for a while.”

“I’m not that bad, thankfully.”

“Have you made up the nursery yet?”

“It’s still so early on. I’m worried … I want to wait until I’m further along. There’s a chance I might lose the baby in the first three months.”

“I prayed non-stop when I was pregnant. I didn’t want to miscarry.”

“I don’t want to either.”

She grasped my hand gently. “You’ll be fine. Try not to tax yourself. Don’t drink too much brandy, despite what the doctor says. Spicy foods gave me belly pains.”

“Thank you.” I smiled weakly. “I’ll try to remember that.”

She got to her feet. “Well, I must be going. I have company tonight. My housekeeper is waiting on the menu. We might have veal or pork.”

I stood. “We’ve people over too.” I was forced to entertain nearly every night, Mr. Witherspoon being a social person who adored the company of his friends, although they were all his age. I had absolutely nothing in common with them.

At the door, Elise hugged me. “I shall come back in a few days to see how you’re doing.”

“Tell me about the knitting club. I’d like to join and meet new people. I need to make baby blankets.”

She grinned. “I will. Good day, Mrs. Witherspoon.”

“Good day, Elise.” I watched her descend the steps, where she walked across the yard, because her house wasn’t far from ours. My husband’s voice rang out behind me. He had been asleep. He typically came down the servant’s staircase at the back of the house.

“There you are,” he said. “Did you hear the news, my dear?”

“What news?”

“Nathanial’s finally asked Miss Victoria Peterson to be his wife. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes.”

“The official engagement party won’t be held until December.”

“That long?”

“We shall be going.”

My eyes widened. “Going where?”

“To Boston. Before you’re too far along to travel, we should take a little trip.” He reached out to hold my hand. “Don't you wish to meet Miss Peterson before the wedding?”

“I … do.” I tried my best to smile, feeling gladness for Nathanial, although I still yearned for him. I hoped that feeling would pass. This had to be a silly crush, just like Elise’s crush from years before. If I waited long enough, these fanciful, romantic notions would pass. They had to.

Chapter Eleven

Boston

December 1890

Although traveling for a day and changing trains twice, I hardly felt tired, my husband having slept most of the trip from New York. We had stopped there overnight to see acquaintances of his. He woke shortly before our arrival in Boston, looking slightly dazed and bleary-eyed. We sat in the first class luxury car, being waited on by a friendly porter. I had never traveled in such style before, marveling at how dramatically my life had changed in just three months.

The hustle and bustle of the city filled my senses, the air laced with sweet and noxious smells, reminding me of Lawrence, although the skies looked blue instead of grey. A sleek black “growler” waited, the driver having left the door open. He took our bags, stowing them with ease, while we alighted, settling on plush leather seats. Knowing we would arrive at Nathanial’s house on the North End shortly, I felt a twinge of nervousness. He had not written to me again, although I had secretly hoped he would.

“Are you comfortable, my dear?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

I wore a traveling suit with full upper sleeves, the jacket and skirt a mauve color. Several black feathers sprouted out of the top of my hat, with black satin ribbons. I kept my gloved hands in my lap, as the carriage jerked slightly, the driver directing the horses towards a busy thoroughfare. I had been to Boston before—many years ago, having been in an orphanage there. The austerity of those years tumbled around in my mind, the bleakness of that existence a stark contrast to how I lived today.

“Something’s on your mind.”

“I’m just … the last time I was in Boston … I was eighteen.”

“The Orphans asylum.”

I glanced out the window at red brick buildings, the first floors occupied by shops. “Yes.”

“You’ve spoken so little about it.”

“Because it’s not very interesting.” Memories flooded, most unpleasant. “Whoever thought I’d come back like this,” I murmured.

“Pardon?”

I turned to look at my husband, seeing an older man in a top hat. “My circumstances have changed so drastically since then.”

“Are you happy being my wife?”

That question startled me, my mouth pursing. “I … of course I am. You’ve been far too kind and generous. You’ve saved me from an uncertain future.”

“I wonder sometimes that the age difference might be a hardship for you.”

“No. I don’t mind.” Other things were of grave concern—Nathanial, but I pushed it aside.

Federal style row houses filled my vision, the architecture new looking and elegant. Well-dressed men and women strolled on brick sidewalks, some walking dogs. We weren’t far from the Charles River, the Esplanade a few streets away. The leaves had fallen from the trees, the air brisk. Our driver directed the carriage towards a five-story row house, the windows bordered by black shutters.

A moment later, the door opened, the steps having been let down. My husband alighted first, offering a hand, which I took. “Thank you.” I gazed at the house, seeing lace curtains in the second floor windows. “It’s pretty.”

The front door opened, revealing a man dressed in livery. He waited for us, as the driver took our bags. “Good afternoon. Welcome. I’m Gregory Land. I’m Mr. Witherspoon’s butler.”

“There, good chap.” Mr. Witherspoon beamed. “I hope we didn’t catch Nathanial out.”

“He’s here, sir.”

The butler directed us into the entryway, the floors black and white marble, with a staircase to the right. The driver deposited our bags, leaving them inside the doorway. A chandelier illuminated the space, casting light on polished furniture and expensive-looking artwork. A man appeared at the top of the steps, and I recognized him instantly, my belly flipping over in anxious knots.

Nathanial grinned, descending slowly, wearing a fawn-colored suit with a black necktie. Not having seen him for several weeks, I wasn’t sure how I would feel at this moment, hoping the attraction between us to have diminished. His eyes lingered on me.

“I see you made it in one piece.”

“Indeed we have.” Mr. Witherspoon patted him on the back. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen the place. The remodel is quite handsome. You’ve done a fine job, son.”

“Thank you.” He took my hand, kissing my gloved fingers. “You look lovely, Mrs. Witherspoon. Pregnancy becomes you.”

“Stop it,” I giggled. “I’m not even showing yet.”

“I do believe I recognize that traveling outfit.”

All the clothes I wore he had chosen. “You should.”

“Congratulations on the engagement. It’s about time, Nathanial. Where is the lovely Victoria?”

“She’ll be along for supper. Do you wish to see your rooms?”

“Indeed.” Mr. Witherspoon glanced up. “I imagine they’re at the top of those stairs, eh?”

“I’ve one bedroom on this floor. You may use it, if you like.”

“That’s a capital idea, Nate. My leg’s still not as it should be.” He gripped a cane. “However, I’ve a great deal more energy now than before. Having a young wife’s given me the incentive to look after my health. I do have to keep up with her, after all.”

Nathanial gazed at me. “I can imagine.”

I had hoped whatever attraction there had been would have faded. I had even prayed on it, asking God to remove any romantic feelings I might have had. As I stood there in Nathanial’s house, staring at his handsome visage, it became clear God had not heard or answered that particular prayer.

“Gregory, why don’t you bring Mr. Witherspoon’s things to the guest bedroom on this floor.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there a water closet down here?” My husband asked.

“Yes, sir,” said the butler. “I can take you there directly.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll be happy to entertain Trinity.” Nathanial grinned. “Some refreshment is waiting in the parlor.”

“That sounds nice.” As Mr. Witherspoon departed, I found myself alone with Nathanial, the foyer suddenly empty. “Your house is … beautiful.”