Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) (9 page)

“The house is functional. You’re beautiful.”

Something pleasing fluttered in my belly. “Thank you.”

“You seem happy.” He escorted me into the parlor, where a grand piano stood. “He seems happy. It’s a very happy situation, isn’t it?”

His behavior perplexed me. “How are you?”

“I’m about to shackle myself to a woman I don’t love in the least, but other than that, I’m perfectly fine.” He took a seat on the sofa next to me, his arm resting on the back.

“Goodness,” I breathed, slightly stunned at the seriousness of the conversation.

“I’ve been wanting to discuss things with you, but you so meanly forbade me from communicating.”

“Nathanial.”

“I wanted to get to know you better. I actually want to know everything I possibly can about you, but, if we cannot communicate, that becomes rather difficult.”

“You know why—”

“I’m well aware that you’re married. I’m not stupid. We’re family after all. Most families speak to one another. They send letters and cards and things. You’re my stepmother. I thought we might have some sort of relationship.”

Oh, dear. He was terribly cross. “Can I get a word in edgewise?”

“I’m not sure I should let you speak.” A hint of humor flashed in his eye.

Now I wondered if he had been serious. “I’m sorry. I thought it prudent we not communicate.”

“Change your mind.”

“We wrote letters like lovers,” I whispered, fearing we might be overheard. “I thought it better to squash such things, not encourage them. I … haven’t any experience with these sorts of situations.” I scratched my forehead, embarrassed by the conversation. “I think I read too much into your letters. I needed to distance myself.”

“I’ve never been cut down like that.”

An incredulous smile masked my nervousness. “Oh, I’m sure you have. I didn’t intend to cause you harm, not deliberately anyway. You must realize why I stopped writing.”

“No. Please explain it to me.” He sat forward, his look stern. “Do tell me, Mrs. Witherspoon.”

“Like I said, I think the correspondence was inappropriate. That’s all.”

“And?”

Why was he being so difficult? “I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“That you love me. That you think about me every minute of every day. That you wish we were together.”

My mouth fell open. “I shall do no such thing.” He had to be jesting. “Are you playing a joke, sir?”

“I’d never tease about something like that.”

Prior to arriving in Boston, I vowed to remain strong during this visit. I lectured myself up and down about not letting silly, fanciful feelings cloud my judgment. I had only just begun to come to terms with having married a man much older than myself. I was settling into my new life in West Virginia, eagerly awaiting the birth of my first child, although it was many months away. I prayed about this issue, asking God to take away any desires I might still have for Nathanial. I realized then that absolutely nothing had changed between us, other than time and distance.

Stunned by the things he had said, I stared at him, not trusting myself to speak. I had been waiting for this moment for weeks, knowing we were coming to Boston. His gaze drifted to the necklace, the silver pendant hanging from my neck.

“I suppose I should be grateful you’re here,” he murmured. “At least I can speak to you now.”

“We came to attend your engagement party.” The conversation had slipped into something safer, but the air around us prickled with tension. “I’m looking forward to meeting Victoria Peterson.”

“She’s nothing like you.”

“I wouldn’t expect her to be. She’s undoubtedly far more refined and elegant. I feel like a country bumpkin.” Something he said earlier bothered me. “And why would you marry someone you don’t love? If I had a choice … I would never have … well, I had no choice. Life is too short to be unhappy. If you’re not certain you love her, you shouldn’t marry her.”

“You’re in no position to dispense marital advice, Trinity.”

“I may not be, but take heed from my situation at least. Don’t do what I did.”

“I know Victoria. I’ve been dangling her around on the end of a string for ages. I owe her a marriage. She deserves that much, at least.”

“You should do what you feel is right for
you
.”

“If that were the case, I’d steal you away in the dead of night and take you to Europe. We’d live happily in a little villa in Italy. We can forget about all of this.”

I stared at him with my mouth open.

Chapter Twelve

All it took was one conversation, and my emotions were in turmoil again. I paced the bedchamber, admiring the pretty carpet at my feet. Although not as large as the one in Clarksburg, it was quite grand, with an electric light chandelier, darkly carved furniture, and an enormous four-poster bed. I sat at the dressing table eyeing myself, seeing a woman with wide blue eyes, my skin glowing. Pregnancy did agree with me, although I still felt twinges of queasiness here and there.

Nathanial planned a small dinner party, with only Victoria in attendance. The engagement soiree would occur in two days’ time, with half of Boston in attendance. I braced myself for the meeting, afraid of how I might feel observing them. That poor girl deserved to have a husband entirely devoted to her, not one whose affections ran to another.

A light knock sounded on the door. “Come in.” I turned to see the maid, who had kindly done my hair.

“They’re waiting for you, Mrs. Witherspoon.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I hadn’t realized the hour grew so late. “I’ll be right down.” My husband took a bedroom on the first floor, but I remained certain he would require I see him after dinner. Then I could return to my room to sleep.

Catching one last look at myself in the mirror, I stared at my outfit, a white lace concoction with puffy sleeves. It had been one of the many Nathanial sent to me. He was far better at choosing my clothing than I was. Not wanting to keep Victoria waiting, I hurried for the door, hearing voices below. They had gathered in the parlor; someone was laughing, which sounded like Nathanial. When I reached the threshold, he seemed to sense me there, looking over his shoulder. Our eyes met for a second, the sweetest thrill racing through me. I hadn’t prepared myself for this reaction, the feeling of unadulterated joy in his presence.

“There you are, my dear.” My husband got to his feet. He was dressed smartly in a dark, three-piece suit, a stark contrast to his white hair. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized the time.”

A woman sat on the sofa, her blonde tresses gathered in a large mass with a bun at the top of her head. She stood then, her height impressive with a graceful, swanlike neck. Stunned by her appearance, I stared at her, marveling at our differences. Intelligence sparkled in her clear grey eyes.

“May I present my wife, Mrs. Trinity Witherspoon.”

Victoria nodded. “How do you do?” Her tone sounded almost musical.

“I’m fine. Thank you. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Let’s have a drink before we go in for supper.” Nathanial took a seat in a wingback chair, his feet encased in shiny black boots. He held a crystal glass, which looked nearly empty. A servant approached with a decanter, pouring a splash of amber fluid. “Thank you.”

Someone handed me a wineglass, which I had a small sip of, leaving it on a nearby table. Not knowing what to say and feeling horribly shy, I sat by my husband, who beamed.

“What do you think of Victoria, Trinity? Is she not a striking woman?”

Being put on the spot, I murmured, “She’s every bit as beautiful as I thought she’d be.”

Victoria smiled, her features softening. “That’s kind of you. You are just as lovely as I thought as well.”

“And it’s about bloody time my son makes an honest woman out of you. He’s kept you waiting long enough.”

Despite Mr. Witherspoon’s uncouth outburst, her look remained serene. “I had every faith my patience would be rewarded.”

“You’re a prize worth catching. Miss Peterson is a graduate of Smith College. I hear you’re moonlighting with Professor Burton at Harvard. What are you doing there again, my dear?”

“He needs someone to help organize his notes. I confess, I wanted to learn more about his travels to Papua New Guinea, but I’ve been relegated to the file box instead.” She shrugged slightly. “I steal peeks at his artifacts when I can. I find everything there fascinating.”

“She’s a budding anthropologist,” said Nathanial.

“Women should have hobbies,” said Mr. Witherspoon. “It keeps them busy until they marry and have children.” He grinned. “We wouldn’t want the smart ones to run amuck. Heaven knows what they’d get into.”

“I’ve never seen a more fascinating group of natives: the headhunters, cannibals, and bride stealers. It’s the stuff of wild adventure novels or your worst nightmares. Professor Burton has some stories that would curl your hair. He’s fortunate he came home alive.”

Not having had any sort of education, I envied Victoria, desiring to learn more about academics myself, but that opportunity had passed. “Your work sounds interesting. I’d like to learn more about other cultures.”

“I’ve an extensive library. You may help yourself to it, my dear.” Mr. Witherspoon got to his feet. “Oh, this leg.” He grimaced.

“Are you all right?” I eyed him, concerned, although he complained often about the gout that produced shooting pains in his extremities.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll just take a turn around the room to improve the circulation.”

“Perhaps, we should go in to eat then.” Nathanial left the glass on the mantel before the fire. “Shall we?” He held out a hand to Victoria.

“Indeed. Are you well enough to eat, sir?” She smiled at Mr. Witherspoon.

“I can always eat,” he laughed. “I feel better already.”

When we adjourned to the dining room, the table gleamed with polished silver and the flattering light of a dozen or more candles. We dined on lobster and shrimp, with thick pieces of steak and roasted vegetables. I sipped wine, feeling out of my depth in the conversations, most of what was said going over my head. I tried to appear as engaged as I could, but I had little to offer in my responses. Mr. Witherspoon and Victoria held court, their personalities demanding attention. It was amusing watching them spar over topics, but Victoria always surrendered, letting my husband win, even when I suspected she was right.

After the servants took the plates away, the men disappeared into the study, while Victoria and I sat in the parlor, sipping tea. She appeared happy and relaxed; her expression held a hint of a smile.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she said. “But, Nathanial says you were a mail order bride. I had no idea those existed still.”

“I am. I worked in Lawrence for a few years, until the factory burned to the ground. I’m lucky to be alive.”

“The labor conditions in factories are deplorable. Things need to change. Children should not be working in them either.”

“I agree.”

“What sorts of products did the factory make?”

“Clothing.”

“I see. Then you’re a skilled seamstress.”

“I suppose.”

“Did you make skirts and blouses?”

“Before the factory burned to the ground, I made what looked like military uniforms. They were shirts and slacks and things. Nothing really nice. I wouldn’t want to wear it.”

“I understand.”

“I was trying to earn a living. I needed to pay rent and buy food.”

“And then you became a mail order bride.”

“I had little choice in the matter. It was my best option.”

“Yet, you and Mr. Witherspoon seem well-matched. He adores you. That much is clear from the way he looks at you.”

“Yes, he’s pleased with the marriage.”

A lengthy silence filled the air, the weight of words unspoken lingering.

“But … you’re not as pleased.”

“I’m adjusting to my new life. I have every reason to be grateful. My circumstances have vastly improved. Mr. Witherspoon saved me from a life of toil. He’s given me more than a girl could ask for.”

“The Witherspoons are generous to a fault. That’s true.”

“I’ll have a child next year. I’ll be far too busy with my family to worry about anything else.”

“I hope to have children as well.”

I tamped down the green-eyed monster of envy, wishing I could change places with Victoria. She was a talented, beautiful woman who was not only smart and educated, but she was kind. I could find no fault in her, other than the fact that she would soon marry Nathanial.

“I’m sure you’ll have them in short order.”

“Yes, but first I have to find a groom.”

That was surprising. “You are engaged, are you not?”

“Yes.”

“Then it seems you’ve found the groom.”

“Getting him to the altar is my next challenge. He’s … he’s been difficult. I don’t know why he’s so slow about some things. I had hoped to be married already. Instead, I’m traipsing around the university, digging through dusty old boxes, and having the time of my life.” She giggled, surprising me. “I do so adore my studies. I’m thinking about continuing them.”

“You’re lucky to have choices.”

“I suppose I am.” Her gaze became considering. “You’re lovelier than I thought you’d be. When I heard you were a mail order bride, I thought perhaps you might look … less appealing. I’d formed an opinion of you well before we met. I’m sorry about that. Then, when I saw you, I realized I was completely wrong. You’re actually really beautiful. I’d give anything not to be so tall and gangly. I tower over most men. I’d rather be tiny and delicate like you.”

Amazed by her description of me, I stared at her wide-eyed. She had been surprisingly honest. “I think you’re astonishingly beautiful.”

“Then we’re even.” She grinned, flashing sparkling white teeth.

It would be impossible to hate Victoria, finding her warmth and kindness endearing. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being so accepting. My background’s hardly in line with yours or the people of Mr. Witherspoon’s acquaintance, but you’ve all made me feel entirely welcome.”