The Bride of Ivy Green

by Julie Klassen

  “Victorine’s? I saw the shop when we arrived. Very well. I am relieved to hear you have the situation in hand, for your father and I must soon return to London for several important social events. We will return before the wedding to see to any last-minute details. And of course, we will take care of ordering the food before we go . . .”

  They went on to talk over the menu, her mother making notes and lists of tasks for each of them. Then she spent the next two days talking with their cook, the baker, the florist, and the vicar.

  On the morning of their departure, her mother asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet with the modiste before I go? We want you to look becoming on your special day.”

  “No, Mamma. You have done so much already, for which we both are very grateful.” Mercy kissed her cheek.

  Satisfied with the arrangements, Mercy’s parents prepared to take their leave. Her father kissed her forehead.

  Then her mother gathered her close and whispered, “I am so happy for you, Mercy. Truly.”

  Mr. Drake again traveled to Drayton Park to spend another few weeks with his father and meet with his lawyers. He took Alice with him this time but promised to return for the wedding. The staff managed as well as possible, but the Fairmont suffered without its host.

  Mercy did what she could to help keep the place going during his lengthy absence, assisting the clerk in the office and answering guest questions. Mr. Kingsley stopped by on his way home from Wilton almost every night to have supper with her, talk about their respective days, and to kiss her good-night.

  On three consecutive Sundays, Mr. Paley read the banns, and Mercy thrilled to hear her name paired with Joseph’s, even as the attention embarrassed her. The warm July weeks passed quickly, and Mercy happily counted down the days until she would become Joseph’s wife.

  As promised, Mr. Drake and Alice returned from Portsmouth about a week before the wedding. After greetings were exchanged and valises stowed, Mr. Drake asked Mercy and Joseph to meet him in his office.

  When they arrived, he congratulated them again. Then he smiled from one to the other. “Now, I would like you both to join me for a tour of the Fairmont.” His gaze rested on Mercy. “That way, your soon-to-be bridegroom can show off all his excellent work and the many improvements he has made here.”

  Mr. Kingsley shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. “There’s no need, Mr. Drake. You have paid me well for my work; you owe me nothing more.”

  “I disagree, Mr. Kingsley. A man of your skills deserves to have his talents praised in the hearing of the woman he loves.”

  Mercy began to feel uncomfortable as well and said lightly, “It is all right, Mr. Drake. I am already convinced of his merits, I assure you.”

  “As you should be. Still, I hope you will oblige me.”

  Mercy looked at Joseph, who shrugged his acquiescence, though he still looked a little confused. After all, they were both already familiar with the Fairmont. “Very well.”

  Mr. Drake led them from floor to floor and room to room, pointing out not only the less-visible repairs and structural work the Kingsleys had done, but especially emphasizing Joseph’s fine craftsmanship evident in the woodwork throughout the house.

  “I can’t take credit for all of this, Mr. Drake. Don’t forget my brothers also played their part.”

  “I understand that, Joseph, but I also know that you were the one who worked the hardest and the longest. The one who was not satisfied to simply patch up the place, but saw to its improvement at every turn, crafting balustrades, chair spindles, cornices, and trim to match the style of the damaged originals, carving that fine moulding for the entry hall, the new mantelpieces, and more. Often on your own time. I know for a fact I have not come close to paying you all you’re rightly due for your hours and skill.”

  Joseph waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t mind. Wouldn’t have been right to charge you for work you didn’t even ask me to do. Not your fault another man’s ‘good enough’ is rarely good enough for me.

  “Besides, you know I was happy to spend the extra time here, especially these last few months.” He looked significantly at Mercy as he said it, and the three shared a smile. “Being in Miss Grove’s company was all the reward I wanted.”

  “Worked out well for you, I agree,” James replied. “You have been richly rewarded with the hand of a fine woman.”

  “Exactly, sir. Which only proves my point—nothing further is required, in praise or pounds. You have been good to Mercy and me, and we appreciate all you have done for us both.”

  Mercy nodded. “He’s right, Mr. Drake.”

  James shook his head. “I have done very little. You deserve so much more.” His plaintive green eyes fixed on her, eyes so like Alice’s, that Mercy’s heart squeezed. She did love him in a familial way, she supposed. After all, he was a part of Alice. And Mercy could not look at the one without seeing the other.

  On their way back to the office, James gestured across the hall. “I can see Mr. Kingsley’s handiwork, his signature skill, everywhere I look, even if you cannot, because I recall what this old place looked like when I first bought it.”

  They reached the office. Once there, James opened a leather folder on the desk and pulled out an official-looking document.

  “What is that?” Mercy asked warily.

  “Consider it a wedding present.” He watched her face, adding, “After our tour, do you not think that, with some little alteration carried out by your skilled husband, the Fairmont would make an excellent school, Miss Grove?”

  Mercy stared at him, flummoxed. “No . . .” she breathed, heart pounding.

  One golden eyebrow rose. “No?”

  “No, I mean—you cannot.”

  “I already have.” He pushed the document toward them. “Here is the deed. Made over to you for the purpose of housing your charity school. A place to ‘educate most if not all of the parish’s children, boys and girls, regardless of their ability to pay.’” He winked at her. “How’d I do?”

  He had repeated an excerpt from a letter she’d written to him months ago about the proposed charity school.

  “Almost verbatim,” Mercy replied, pulse racing. “But I could not accept.”

  “Of course you can. It is for the school you’ve long dreamed of creating. And you and Mr. Kingsley might live here if you want, as schoolmistress and manager of grounds or whatever title you like. Together you can oversee the school and hire additional teachers and staff as needed.” He tapped a second document in the folder. “You will see that I have also included an annuity to help with ongoing expenses, and I have verbal commitments from Winspear, Brockwell, and Bingley to help fund the school as well. And if more is needed, I have no doubt that, with your passion and campaigning skills, you will raise it without fail.”

  Mercy’s chest tightened. She felt warm and lightheaded. “Mr. Drake. This is . . . inconceivable. Far beyond anything I could have imagined or asked for. I don’t—”

  “Mercy Grove,” he interrupted, face suddenly solemn. “Not only did you ease my reconciliation with my father, but you have also given me my daughter, the greatest, most precious possession of my life. I know the sacrifice it was, when you gave me Mary-Alicia’s letter, confirming my identity as Alice’s father. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. I know what your honesty cost you when you came to see me that day. When I think of someone showing up and taking Alice from me . . . the loss, the bereavement . . . Now I understand what I took from you.”

  “You didn’t take her from me. She is your daughter, Mr. Drake. And Mr. Coine said you likely would have won a custody case even without that letter.”

  “Perhaps, but regardless, you spared me both the uncertainty of my claim and an expensive and drawn-out court case during which Alice and I might have been separated for months, if not longer. Now I can look her in the eye and tell her without a doubt that she is my daughter. And though I don’t deserve her, I am her father. I hope—I pray—to be
worthy of that title. Difficult though it will be.”

  “But not impossible,” Mercy said. “For nothing is impossible with God.” She held up the deed. “As this proves.”

  She glanced at Joseph, saw him standing there, shoulders tense and expression somber.

  She shook her head. “Though I still cannot accept it.”

  “Miss Grove, I know a building can never take Alice’s place. Yet you lost not only Alice, but also your precious school at Ivy Cottage, as well as your dream of opening a much larger charity school. It is in my power to restore at least that dream to you. Please don’t deny me.”

  Mercy glanced again at Joseph, who had yet to say a word. “I should like to speak to Mr. Kingsley in private before I decide.”

  “Of course. I will step out. Take your time. But I hope, Mr. Kingsley, you will not refuse for pride’s sake. Not when you know what it will mean to your wife.”

  Joseph nodded. “I will consider what you say, Mr. Drake.”

  When the door closed behind him, Mercy turned to her beloved.

  “Can you believe it? Is it not amazing?”

  “Yes. And for myself, he is right. I would refuse. It is too much. The thought of being beholden to any man for the rest of my life . . . Not to mention the taxes on such a place!” He quirked his lip, attempting to lighten the moment with humor.

  “You’re right. It is too much. Shall I refuse him?”

  He sighed, thinking. “You have already refused him once, when he asked to marry you. . . .”

  Mercy dipped her head. “Yes.”

  “For which I am forever grateful.” Joseph looked at her from beneath a fall of sandy hair. “Not having a change of heart now, I hope?”

  “Never.”

  “I know how much you want this school. And what I want most in this world, Mercy Grove, is to see you happy.”

  She rested her fingers on his chest. “I am happy.”

  He laid his hand over hers and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then I’d say both God and Mr. Drake have blessed us beyond measure.”

  “I agree.”

  “So the least we can do is take this old house off his hands if he wants us to.” He grinned, adding, “And here I hesitated to propose because we would have no house to live in.” He wrapped his free arm around her waist, drawing her close. “Well, there’s that problem sorted.”

  Mercy laughed with joy and kissed him.

  Mercy and Joseph stood beside Mr. Drake while he made the stunning announcement to his staff. The Fairmont would cease to operate as a hotel and become a charity boarding school, operated by Mercy and Joseph Kingsley. He assured them that the closure did not reflect poorly on their performance, but rather that he would be too busy managing the much larger Hain-Drake interests to give the rural hotel the attention it deserved.

  To his credit, Mr. Drake offered positions in Southampton and Portsmouth to anyone willing to relocate. The chef, porter, clerk, and several others accepted. The horsemen and postilions would need to find new jobs, but thankfully Mercy would be able to keep on Iris and Mrs. Callard.

  The staff’s astonished reactions mirrored her own feelings. Mercy could hardly believe the school she’d long hoped and prayed for would soon become a reality.

  Mercy planned to spend the eve of her wedding in Ivy Cottage at her mother’s request. But she invited Jane and Rachel to spend the night before that with her at the Fairmont. Her room was too small, so Mercy selected one of the larger rooms on the first floor with a bed wide enough to easily accommodate all three of them.

  In some ways, it felt like old times, the three friends sleeping over, staying up late in their long white nightdresses, talking, laughing, and sharing secrets. In other ways, so very much had changed.

  After Iris delivered hot chocolate and slices of cake, Mercy told Jane and Rachel her news about the Fairmont.

  Jane’s mouth fell wide. “I am all astonishment! Of course I am relieved to know there will be a school so close to Ivy Hill. Now we won’t have to send Jack Avi away to be educated. But that James would give you the Fairmont . . . ?” She shook her head in awe.

  “Do you mind, Jane? It was your home, after all.”

  “Not for many years. When I think of the former state of the place—abandoned, neglected, falling into ruin—and now . . . ? Repaired and improved. First as a hotel and soon to be a school? It’s astounding, really. And if I had to choose between a hotel to compete with The Bell and the school my dear friend has longed for these many years, you know which I would choose. I am not sorry to lose the competition.”

  Mercy watched her face and asked gently, “Are you not?”

  Jane hesitated, and tears brightened her eyes. “I suppose I am a little sorry. Sorry to lose James. He has been a good friend to me, and I shall miss him.”

  Mercy nodded. “As shall I. And Alice, of course.”

  Rachel took her hand. “Will you be all right?”

  Mercy nodded, tears now filling her own eyes. “I will. Alice is fond of me, I know, and I will miss her, but she will be happy with her father. Those two have bonded more closely than I ever dared hope. And she is attached to his mother, sister, and new cousins as well. Truly, it does my heart good to see her surrounded by such a loving family.”

  Rachel squeezed her fingers. “Then we will pray that God will bless you and Mr. Kingsley with children of your own—and soon.”

  “Mr. Kingsley promises to strive toward that end.” Mercy’s face flushed, and she ducked her head.

  Jane chuckled and then rose. “That reminds me, we have a gift for you . . .” She stepped to her valise, returning a moment later with a box tied with ribbon.

  Mercy opened it and found inside a lovely, finely embroidered nightdress and dressing gown. She felt her face heat again.

  Rachel bit her lip, eyes sparkling. “On that note, I would like you two to be the first to know—after Timothy, of course. We are expecting a child.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Mercy exclaimed, kissing her cheek.

  Rachel touched Jane’s arm. “I hope that doesn’t make you sad, Jane.”

  “No. I am thoroughly happy for you both.”

  Jane drew in a long breath. “And I suppose this is a good time to tell you that with my father’s tenuous health, he has asked Gabriel and me to care for Jack Avi after he’s gone. He wants me to raise him not as his guardian or sister, but as his . . . mother.”

  Mercy clasped her hand. “How like God to work something so good and right from the sad situation with your father.”

  Sitting cross-legged on the big bed, the three held hands in a misshapen triangle—heart-shaped, perhaps. They smiled from one to the other even as tears wet their cheeks.

  “God has blessed each of us,” Rachel said.

  Jane and Mercy nodded.

  “He has indeed.”

  chapter

  Fifty

  At the following night’s meeting of the Ladies Tea and Knitting Society, Jane sat beside Rachel. The new Lady Brockwell attended less frequently since marrying but had made an effort to be there for Mercy’s sake.

  The women gathered around the bride-to-be, asking about the next day’s festivities—if she still planned to hold the wedding breakfast on the green, what was on the menu, and what she would wear.

  Jane and Rachel listened with interest as well. The night before, the three of them had talked briefly about plans for the wedding, but Mercy had said little about her dress. Jane assumed Mrs. Grove had insisted on some fancy gown Mercy was not thrilled about, so she had not pressed her for details, focusing on happy topics instead. In fact, the news of James giving Mercy the Fairmont had chased more ordinary subjects from her mind.

  Now Mercy patiently answered everyone’s questions, bemused by all the attention. She replied that she still hoped to have the wedding breakfast on Ivy Green, weather permitting, assured them they were all welcome, and finished by saying, “And I plan to wear one of my favorite old gowns. I did, however, take it t
o our dressmaker and asked her to smarten it up a bit.”

  “Really?” Jane asked, taken aback. “I assumed your mother would insist on a new gown.”

  Mercy shrugged. “She offered, but I told her I had already asked Miss Victor to help with the dress. She is still working on it as we speak. I will pick it up first thing in the morning.”

  Jane and Rachel exchanged looks of concern—surprised Mercy had done so when they knew Eva was not as skilled as first believed.

  Mrs. Burlingame nodded her approval. “Very practical. I wore my best dress when I married.”

  “So did I,” Mrs. Klein replied.

  Mrs. O’Brien raised her hand. “Me too.”

  “I still wear my wedding dress,” Miss Morris announced.

  They all looked at the unmarried woman in astonishment.

  Becky’s dimple appeared. “At least, the dress I plan to wear if I ever do get married.”

  The women laughed, as she had clearly intended them to.

  The meeting continued with talk of other things, including the news that the Earl’s Menagerie and Traveling Players had returned to Ivy Hill to pick up the trunks and wagons they’d stored in the tithe barn. The troupe would be leaving Wiltshire the following day.

  Later, after the meeting adjourned, Rachel, Jane, Matilda, and the Miss Cooks lingered, talking together in whispered consultation. Mercy was their esteemed leader and friend, of whom they were all deeply fond. There must be some way to do better for her than an old gown refurbished by inexperienced hands.

  Eva sat in her workroom, shadows lengthening. She would normally still have plenty of sunlight to work by at this time of day, but the weather had been grey and cloudy since dawn. She would have to light the lamps soon.

  Eva thought about Miss Grove’s plan to hold her wedding breakfast outside on the village green tomorrow. She hoped it wouldn’t rain.

  Ah well, she thought. At least if it did and the bride’s dress was ruined, it would not be much of a loss.