Christina, A Bride for Christmas (Brides for All Seasons Book 6)

by Hildie McQueen

  As much as Christina wanted to leave the oppressive life she’d had, it was hard not to be terrified of the unexpected turn of events. “Lady Price, why did you bring up Wilhelmina?”

  “Oh yes, come sit over here by the table so we may have some tea.” Lady Price stood and, together, they went to a set of chairs flanking a table already set with teapot and cups. The older woman sunk into a chair and let out a soft sigh. Christina joined her, waiting for her to continue speaking.

  “Wilhelmina has gone to Montana. She is going to marry a man by the name of Marcus Hamilton. Once you arrive in Wyoming, you should contact her. Perhaps you can arrange a visit upon you getting settled. She will love it.”

  Her friend had gone out west? Christina’s head swam at the thought. Of course, after a horrible social scandal that even she in her sequestered state had heard about, it only made sense that poor Wilhelmina leave and go as far as possible from Philadelphia.

  “My goodness. I didn’t know.”

  “The family made up the story of her caring for an elderly aunt. They don’t want to admit to her becoming a mail order bride.” Lady Price sniffed. “It’s not a bad thing. It gives woman a choice. We should have more options than to remain in society and be married off to whoever someone else chooses.”

  As a widow and being wealthy, Lady Price was one of the few women who had choices and freedoms most could never aspire to. Her generosity and willingness to help others was well known, however, Christina had not been aware of her involvement in the mail order bride business.

  “May I ask more about your enterprise into mail order brides?” Christina accepted a cup of tea poured by a quiet maid who smiled shyly at her.

  After the maid departed, Lady Price smiled at Christina. “I have a friend out west who moved there with her husband. She was struck by how many men were alone and without wives or family. She contacted me with the idea of starting a newsletter for mail order brides. And thus, the Matrimonial Gazette was born. I keep it secret here because, as you can imagine, polite society would be horrified. So most of my dealings with potential brides are done here in this small townhouse my brother owns.”

  “Who has been chosen for me?” Christina’s voice shook. How could Lady Price even begin to understand what kind of man would be perfect for her? Prior to this day, she’d only spoken to her a couple of times. And no matter that her mother had visited with the woman, it was doubtful Norma could even begin to pretend to know Christina well. Although in the same house, they’d become distant. Christina could not remember ever sharing any kind of secrets or aspirations with her mother.

  Lady Price’s laugh was light. “I have looked for acceptable candidates and brought some letters and pictures here. You will choose your future husband yourself. Since time is of the essence and you will depart in the morning, I need you to write a letter this night which will not arrive until after you do.”

  No longer aware of the tea or the man at the window, who turned to listen as well, Christina leaned forward.

  “You will have enough money to remain in the hotel in the town until your husband receives the letter and comes for you. I have several prospects in the same general area in Wyoming that I think are suitable. All younger and with good professions to ensure you will be provided for. Each of the gentlemen has been thoroughly investigated without their knowledge, just to ensure they are of a good nature, family and social esteem.”

  It was all happening so fast. Moving across the country was overwhelming enough, but to also marry someone? Become a wife and possibly mother so soon after was something she did not feel prepared for. “I don’t know anything about the west, Lady Price. I feel inadequate. How can I possibly hope to be a partner to a man whose life is so different from my own?” Tears sprung at knowing the first step of many had been taken.

  It was late afternoon. Her father would be returning home soon and would discover her gone. Her gaze went to the door.

  “I understand, dear. This is all so daunting for you. However, it is imperative we go to the train station at dawn. We will depart at first light.”

  The maid returned and, together with Lady Price, Christina was escorted to a small but elegant bedroom. “I have placed the men’s information on the desk there.” Lady Price motioned to a small secretary. “There is a nightgown and some clothing for you that I purchased with the money your mother gave me. I took the liberty of including a second dress for you and a simple gown of my own that I thought you’d enjoy. In the small trunk there are some other necessities for you already packed. Just add the dresses and whatever else you have to it if you wish.”

  Lady Price cupped Christina’s jaw. “You will be fine. This will all work out for the best. Never doubt that your mother cares. She is ensuring you are not handed over to a beastly man. Now, take your time and choose one of the gentlemen. Allow your heart to choose. Then write a letter to him. Everything you need is there.”

  Indeed, Lady Price took care of everything. Along with quill and paper, there was a plate of small cakes and a fresh pot of tea.

  “Dinner will be at seven, Miss Mills. Please call if you need anything,” the maid said as she slipped out leaving Christina alone, her mind whirling.

  Long minutes later, she stared down at the last two pictures and profiles. One man was younger than she expected, one just one year older than her twenty-one years of age. The second man was six years older than her at twenty-seven.

  Her father had barely allowed friendships, much less courtship of any kind. If anything, she’d accepted the fate of dying an old maid after her parents passed. Now, it seemed fate had other plans.

  At twenty-one, she felt too old to be thinking of a wedding and preparing for a family. Hand flat on her chest, Christina let out a long sigh and looked down at the picture that continuously drew her attention the most.

  Alexander Patterson, twenty-seven years of age. Carpenter. His likeness was blurred, but not so much as to distract from how handsome the man was. Although she wasn’t aware of how men acted normally, she wondered if he was aware of his attractiveness. Would that mean Alexander was arrogant? Something about his stance gave her pause. Although seeming tall and well formed, there was vulnerability in the way he grasped a cane. Beside him was a large dog and that made her smile. Interesting that he chose to have his portrait taken with an animal.

  Ranchester, where Alexander Patterson lived, was described as an old mining town that continued development. Located near Casper, Wyoming, it was possible for her to travel that far on the train.

  Her shoulders fell and Christina looked to the window. The day had brightened just a bit, but soon the sun would fall. It was almost four o’clock. Her father had to be searching for her by now. Had he called for the authorities? She frowned, wondering what her mother would say to him. No doubt, having planned the entire thing, she’d prepared some sort of story for her disappearance. Goodness, why hadn’t she asked what her plans were?

  What if her father was mistreating her mother to get information? She rushed to the window, heart pounding. Had her mother memorized the address where she was? If the authorities came, she’d be found and dragged back. Air left her lungs and Christina let out a shaky breath while searching from one end of the empty street to the other.

  Her father’s wrath would be without mercy. Rarely did he take measure when punishing her for minor faults. This time, she’d probably wish for death.

  Shivers raced down her arms, her breathing stilted. “Lord, please don’t let him find me.” Christina crossed herself and moved back from the window.

  Mind made up, she rushed to the desk and began writing.

  Both Lady Price and her brother had changed for dinner, a practice Christina had fallen out of. Most days, she either ate alone in the kitchen or, worse, with her parents in the cold dining room. There was rarely any conversation, only the sounds of forks hitting the plates and, every so often, her father would ask for a report of kitchen rations and what she planned to co
ok the following day for dinner.

  The questions were usually followed by complaints of her cooking ability. Never mind, it was hard to make anything palatable without being given a budget for spices and such.

  Now with the two siblings for dining companions, Christina was delighted by the banter between the two. Lady Price’s eyes sparkled with mirth at meeting Christina’s gaze. “Please don’t think ill of my dreadful brother. He has a rather brash way with words.”

  “I do not need to be excused by you, Eugenia,” her brother countered. “I do believe Miss Mills would agree in my assessment that the Duke of Brigham has a likeness to his dog.”

  Christina could not help but laugh. “I only met the duke once. What kind of dog is it?”

  “A bull dog,” Thomas Price replied. “An ugly dog at that.”

  “Thomas, cease at once. You will make my stomach upset,” Lady Price scolded her brother, a smile making it clear she was not serious.

  It was refreshing to see how they interacted. How sad for her that she did not have a sibling to build a relationship such as theirs. Then again, with the state of affairs at her home, it was probable that even with a sibling, her existence would have been just as dour.

  “Lady Price, if I may ask,” Christina finally was emboldened by the light mood to ask. “What shall I do until my future husband finds me?”

  “You will travel with a letter of introduction. I have arranged for you to meet with Judge Withers, the town’s mayor. He will see that you will assist the schoolteacher in the town or such work until your marriage. That way, you can keep busy, get to know the townspeople and, at the same time, earn some money.”

  The plan was sensible and it helped Christina feel better in the knowledge there was a plan in place. Besides, the idea of working in a teaching capacity would be good for her. Being around children was a great way to learn about the families who lived in her new home.

  “Thank you. I find that settles my mind.” She let out a breath and covered her mouth to keep from yawning. “If I may retire? I find myself exhausted.”

  “Yes, of course,” Lady Price replied. “Try to rest. Belinda will wake you in the morning. There will be plenty of time to have breakfast before you leave to catch the nine o’clock train.”

  Mind reeling, Christina expected to remain awake. Every creek of the house made her jump, thinking that perhaps her father had figured out where she’d gone. But as the hours passed, she relaxed until finally falling into a deep slumber.

  “Miss? It’s time to get up.” The maid shook her gently. “It’s time.”

  Weak sunrays managed to permeate through the crack in the thick draperies and Christina immediately awakened.

  Today would be the beginning of her new life. Dread settled in her stomach so that she heaved and rushed to the chamber pot. However, she huffed out a breath and forced her revolting stomach to settle.

  “Not the time for sensitivities. I must be bold and strong. I need to keep my wits about me and not give in.”

  Belinda came up behind her and met her gaze in the mirror. “Truer words you have not spoken, Miss. When faced with uncertainty, we women must be strong.”

  “Thank you.” Christina turned to her. “I will dress and finish packing. Please tell Lady Price I will be down presently.”

  “Yes, Miss.” Belinda gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Right away.”

  Minutes later, shoulders back and walking tall, Christina descended the stairs, walked past the parlor and into the small breakfast room where both Lady Price and her brother sat.

  “I am ready.”

  Chapter 4

  Ranchester, Wyoming

  The town bustled with activity as Barrett guided his wagon down the center of the main street. Women gathered in front of the mercantile, baskets filled with parcels hanging from their arms or placed on the boardwalk next to their feet as they chatted.

  One woman turned to him and, immediately, the entire group followed suit. He supposed sitting on the bench with a dog next to him did make for an interesting picture. Barrett lifted a hand to the brim of his hat and called out a greeting. The women replied, their gazes moving from his face down to his missing leg.

  Of course it was more out of morbid curiosity and they did not do it purposely but, nonetheless, it happened regularly. It no longer bothered him, not in a way that made him self-conscious. What it did was remind him of how different he was now and why he’d probably never marry.

  No woman would accept a cripple as a husband. It was one thing if the accident happened after marriage, another entirely to enter the union with someone so horribly maimed. One of the women, the judge’s wife, Olive Withers, waved him to a stop.

  “Hello Barrett," she said using the name everyone called him in Ranchester. "Judge wishes to speak to you. We require a new table.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I finally convinced him to replace the horrible monstrosity we own now.”

  Barrett chuckled. “I will stop by and see him. Thank you, Ma’am.” He liked Judge Withers and his wife. Although the mayor’s name was Matthew, everyone called him Judge, even his wife. The older couple, although influential in Ranchester, was always cordial and well liked by the townsfolk.

  Once Barrett arrived at the hotel, he walked to the back of the wagon and began untying the rope that held a set of chairs he was delivering. While pulling the rope loose, he glanced to the entrance in hopes the owner, Charles, would exit to assist him. Each time he went to town, Barrett did his best to avoid going to the hotel. Although they served good meals, he’d eat at a smaller establishment down the road.

  Maggie’s assessment of Cornelia Bloom was correct. The woman had tried many times to put him in compromising situations. Once, she’d gone so far as to lead him to an empty room with an excuse of hearing something strange. When they’d entered, she’d closed the door and proposed an afternoon tryst.

  Whether actual attraction or morbid curiosity, Barrett wasn’t sure what prompted the woman’s relentless efforts to seduce him. If rumors were correct, her husband had a roaming eye and, perhaps, it was her way of getting even.

  A sad state of affairs in his opinion.

  “Hello there, Barrett,” Charles said as he exited the hotel. “Those are fine looking chairs. Almost wish they would be out in the hotel and not hidden in our private area.”

  The rather stout man came to the back of the wagon and whistled. “How in the heck did you manage to load them by yourself?”

  His shrewd gaze slid over Barrett. “Must be pretty strong. Or maybe the dog helped?” The man laughed and shook his head. “Don’t be so stern. I’m joking.”

  “If you’ll get one, I’ll take the other.” Barrett directed Charles to grab the one closest and they maneuvered it from the wagon.

  Once the chair he carried was set down just inside the door and Charles paid him, Barrett hurried from the hotel. On the porch, Fella sat up with an expectant look.

  “Yes, we’ll go see Mayme and get you a big soup bone.” He patted the dog’s large head just as Cornelia Bloom exited the door, her face flushed. The woman seemed out of breath.

  “Oh, there you are. I was afraid I’d miss you. Why don’t you come in and have supper? I made a crowd favorite. Fried chicken and biscuits.”

  Her gaze lingered on him much longer than appropriate and her mouth curved. “You need a haircut. I’d be glad to help with that.”

  Fella whimpered and Barrett agreed with the dog. “Much obliged, Mrs. Bloom, but I promised Mrs. Wilkes I’d stop by.”

  The woman’s eyes hardened and her mouth twisted. “I wouldn’t eat anything that comes out of the old black woman’s kitchen. She’s not the cleanest person.”

  “It’s fine cooking to me. I’d probably eat something off her floors as they are cleaner than most I’ve seen lately.” He purposely looked past her toward the entrance of the hotel. “You have a good day, Mrs. Bloom.”

  As soon as he pulled up to Mrs. Wilkes’ home, Fella jumped from th
e wagon and hightailed it round the back of the small establishment to the door where he knew someone in the kitchen would spot him.

  Barrett entered through the front door. The small room held four tables. Someone sat at every chair. The aroma of fresh bread mingled with spices and, immediately, his stomach grumbled.

  “Well I’ll be.” Eudora Wilkes rushed from where she stood speaking to two men. The woman embraced him tightly and then leaned back to study his face. “Baby, you ain’t been eatin’ too good. You lookin’ po’.”

  She said the same thing every time, not finding anything flattering about someone less than plump. Hand flat on her ample bosom, her pretty brown face was filled with disappointment. “Come on back, we need to get you fed and married.”

  “How about we start with food?” Barrett chuckled and followed her to the small but spotless kitchen just as her helper, Laddie, a young woman of mixed ethnicity, rushed out with a heaping plate of food in each hand.

  Most of the customers were single ranchers or miners that Mrs. Wilkes insisted on fattening up. So when a chorus of satisfied groans sounded, she turned to the doorway and smiled.

  “Where’s Fella? Ah there you are boy.” She turned to the back door and opened it for the dog. From a pot atop a side table, she pulled a huge bone and presented it to the dog like Fella was a human customer. “There you go, sweet thing.”

  Fella took the offering and settled into a back corner where he’d be busy for several hours.

  In the kitchen, there was a small table for two where Barrett always ate. He’d done so for years, ever since he’d made the table for her.

  The freed slave had traveled to Wyoming with the Hendersons. The three of them had been the trio of friends he’d made since arriving in Wyoming.

  Barrett owed his life to her and the Hendersons. For many long nights as he’d lie in bed feverish and incoherent, Mrs. Wilkes had remained by his side with cold compresses and soft words.