The more she learned about Adam, the more highly she regarded him. Even though he'd been born into money, he'd never settled for an easy life, opting instead to see what he could accomplish on his own. And he'd been extremely successful, first in farming and then in finding a few choice spots to establish a small mining operation. All of the men who worked for Adam were paid well and the work that was expected of them was always reasonable. He didn't believe in taking advantage of others for his own benefit.
Unfortunately, it wasn't only a high regard she'd developed for Adam. He was kind, considerate, thoughtful, and yet strong and intelligent; it would be impossible for any woman living in such close proximity to the man not to develop deep feelings for him. But because there was nothing she could do about it, Madeline had no choice but to try burying her feelings.
And then one evening, discord suddenly filled their superficial relationship. Adam had come home after venturing out late—Madeline didn't even want to guess at where he had been going. He'd walked back in the front door not a full hour later as she had sat reading in the parlor. Adam had stormed into the room, standing at the door and glaring at her without saying a word. She'd waited for him to speak but it seemed like the silence would continue indefinitely. She was just about to turn her attention back to her book when he started; his voice angry, frustrated.
“This was not supposed to happen. This was supposed to be convenient. Ha! It isn't convenient; it's quite unsettling, to say the least,” he exclaimed, pacing the room while rubbing his forehead. “And what am I to do now? You see, I don't want them, Madeline; they now hold about as much appeal as an old mare. It seems you've spoiled me!”
He started into the room, taking no more than three steps in her direction before stopping abruptly. His expression was fraught with indecision as he stared at her, but a moment later, he turned around and headed back out the door, thundering up the stairs to his room. She knew he'd reached his destination by the loud thud of the door closing behind him.
She sat there more confused than ever before with absolutely no idea of what he'd been rambling on about. She'd never seen him like that; perhaps he'd gotten drunk and was spewing nonsense in his stupor, but it seemed rather out of character for the Adam she'd come to know over the past weeks.
He returned to the parlor about an hour later, moving more slowly now. The anger was gone, but still he somehow didn't seem himself.
“You recover quickly,” Madeline said, giggling suddenly, then unable to help herself. The tumultuous emotions of the past hours seemed to have gotten the best of her at that moment.
Adam just looked at her, no doubt concerned over her state of mind given her sudden outburst.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Black. It has just been a very unusual day,” she continued to smile as she spoke. “I believe that when you have the choice between tears and laughter, choose laughter. It is the best medicine, after all,” she added, trying to reassure him that she was in fact sane.
She watched as sadness flashed briefly through his eyes, so quickly that she may not have noticed had she not been observing his expression intently.
“What's wrong?” Madeline asked, his perplexity growing by the minute over their strange exchange this evening.
“That is precisely what my mother used to say,” he replied. “I can tell already that you are so much like her.”
The words sounded like a compliment, but the unsettled expression he wore confused her.
“She was the kind of woman who loved with every fiber of her being, and I can see that in you, Madeline. She could never have been satisfied with a life like this,” he finished sadly.
She rose, moving to stand in front of Adam. “This arrangement is not precisely what I had expected, but is that your concern? Do you think I'm unhappy? You have taken me away from heartache and given me a beautiful home in a wonderful new place. And you've become...a good friend,” she answered, pausing briefly to figure out how best to understate her feelings while reassuring him that she did not regret her choice.
He nodded, moving to touch her cheek with the palm of his hand, igniting the warm, tingling sensation she felt whenever he had touched her. She didn't say a word as Adam leaned in; she'd longed for him to kiss her and it was finally going to happen. He hovered just an inch or two away—and had Madeline been bolder, she might have crossed the distance between them—but she remained still, waiting with an overwhelming sense of anticipation. Suddenly, Adam turned away, walking out of the room once again without a word.
Standing alone in the parlor, it was Madeline's turn to feel frustration. She'd thought that perhaps something had changed his mind; that he'd come to realize the hollowness in his marriage arrangement.
Then it dawned on her; perhaps Adam had simply been unable to find a woman to satisfy his baser needs this night. He'd come to her, not as a man with desire for his intended wife, but as a man with no other options. And even then, he'd walked away, making it abundantly clear that he would not be swayed, even in desperation.
She left the parlor a moment later, after being sure Adam had plenty of time to return to his room, not wanting to run into him yet again this evening. Once in her room, she curled up in the center of her enormous bed. She felt alone in a way she had never known before, never needing the warm arms of a man around her. He'd gone ahead and set the date; in just a week's time she would be wed, and what she would give to truly be his wife. Madeline drifted off to sleep, her mind absorbed with thoughts of Adam and what could have been, had he not been so determined to maintain his distance from her.
Chapter 7
When she awoke in the morning, those images still vivid in her mind, she couldn't resist bringing up the issue just one more time. Adam was a reasonable man; he had to be able to see what a fine marriage they could make. She readied herself for breakfast and descended the grand staircase, feeling full of hope for their future, but as she entered the dining room, her plans were dashed quickly. Adam had left for several days, the house staff had informed her. He wasn't expected to return until the eve of their upcoming nuptials.
“Well, so much for that plan,” Madeline thought, feeling rather deflated. It wasn't that she couldn't speak with him upon his return, but somehow everyday closer to her wedding day seemed to further solidify the cold deal. He had made his intentions clear from the start, hadn't he? What did it matter that she loved him? Her love was unnecessary, unwelcome in a loveless marriage.
Love?!? Her eyes flew wide open, never having put a name to her feelings before. “No, this can't be. I do not love Adam Black,” she spoke aloud like a petulant child—but, of course, she did.
It all suddenly made sense. She had thought she'd escaped Providence scot-free; that the fates had finally smiled upon her, or taken pity on her sad situation, but it was clear now that nothing was without a cost. The payment she would make for escaping her former life was to live with the man she loved, never having the feeling returned. He would go about his life and his dalliances, and she would watch helplessly from close proximity. The knowledge seemed to drain her, making Madeline feel like she hadn't slept in days.
She drifted through the next few days. As much as she didn't want to, she couldn't help but look forward to Adam's return. She'd come to enjoy their conversations very much and couldn't wait for them to resume.
Chapter 8
The eve of her wedding had finally arrived, and while she felt no particular anticipation over the following day, she peered out the window at least a dozen times waiting for Adam to arrive home.
It was well into the afternoon when his carriage stopped in front of the house. She didn't wait to see him exit the carriage, but instead hurried down the stairs, composing herself once she reached the bottom. She had nearly reached the door when it opened from outside, but it was not Adam who first entered the house.
“Oh dear,” she thought silently. Though she'd never seen him before, the man looked like a near replica of Adam, but with thirty or so years b
etween them. This was his father—the one Adam had delighted in irking with his choice in marriage. She wondered if he would be even more brutal than Mrs. Brady had been.
“Father, may I present to you Miss Madeline Swan,” Adam announced as he entered behind his father, moving to stand next to her.
His father was silent for a moment, and Madeline tried to mentally prepare herself for whatever blow the man had in store. He looked at her intently, reading her expression in the same way his son had done numerous times before.
At least I know where he gets it from, she thought wryly.
The scene at the front door remained like a frozen tableau for what seemed like an eternity, though in reality it was likely not more than a few moments' time.
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan,” he began, far more cordially than Madeline had expected. “I do believe Adam was right: the way you hold yourself, the look in your eyes, so very much like my late wife. I must presume then that everything else he has said about you is true as well,” the man smiled brightly. “I believe this union will be an ideal match for my son, and so I welcome you to our family.”
“Thank you, Mr. Black. It is my honor,” Madeline replied shakily, having expected a very different response. She released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
“And now, I'm going to see about having my belongings brought in safely,” he smiled again and returned outside onto the porch.
“Marry me, Madeline Swan,” Adam spoke, turning to look at her and take her hands in his.
Madeline looked up at him, puzzled. Wasn't this deal already made?
“Be my wife, not merely in name, but in truth,” he began to explain as Madeline's eyes flew open wide yet again.
“I had to leave these past few days, you see. You were driving me mad. You are beautiful, kind, gentle, intelligent; all that a man could want in a wife, but as you know, I thought that love was not what I wanted. I am here to tell you now that I was wrong, Madeline. I don't know precisely how or when it happened, but I have fallen in love with you, and it is you with whom I want to share my life… to bear my children,” he continued, gazing at her with loving eyes.
“Mr. Black, you cannot talk me into modifying our arrangement,” she began, pausing for effect, but given the unhappy look on Adam's face, she was quick to continue.
“You cannot talk me into it because… I love you, too. There is no convincing necessary,” she confessed.
He smiled brightly and his arms pulled her against him as his lips descended upon hers, kissing her with a fervor she could never have imagined. Adam's father returned then, coming to halt inside the door and clearing his throat to announce his presence.
“Don't you think you're acting a little preemptively, son? I do believe the wedding is not until tomorrow,” he spoke sternly, but Madeline could see the light dancing in his eyes.
The next day, the two were wed in a small, but beautiful ceremony in the courtyard of their home. Madeline looked stunning in her flowing white gown and had never imagined she could be any happier than she had been that day, but through the years, she was blessed with a loving marriage and a family that delighted her more and more every day. Though Madeline had never been one to believe in fairy tales, she couldn't deny that the fates seemed to have surprised her with her very own happily ever after.
THE END
Montana Mail Order Bride Julia
Charity Phillips
Montana Mail Order Bride Julia
When a boy whom Julia has been charged to take care of dies, she is left searching for her next path in life. Her choices are limited, as she is not a wealthy woman nor is she married, and she fears that she must take the charity of her only living relative.
At the last moment, a dear friend suggests a rather risky plan: to travel across the country to the Montana frontier in search of a husband she has never met. Julia follows through, despite her reservations, only to find that her husband to be is a widower with a young son and a cold heart due to the circumstances that he has faced.
Will her warm and caring presence be the perfect cure to melt his heart?
Chapter 1
Baltimore, Maryland - 1871
Julia packed up her things. She had been tending to young Marcus for nearly three weeks and now that he had passed on, it was time for her to go. There were only a few things in the Cranston household that belonged to her: clothing, a few personal mementos from her childhood, and the silver locket she’d carried with her through the war.
When she was packed, Julia hefted her large bag down the massive staircase towards the foyer. The butler, Mr. Taylor was standing at the front door awaiting her. When he saw that she was struggling with her bags, he hurried quickly up the steps to help her.
“Please, ma’am, let me take that for you,” he told her, sliding his hands through the luggage straps and tugging it away from her.
She protested only a moment before accepting his kindness. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. I think I may just miss your kindness.”
He blushed a little and looked away. “Thank you, ma’am. I am sorry to see you go. House won’t be the same without you.”
“No, I suppose it won’t.”
Her mind wandered to poor little Marcus. He was only twelve when he’d caught the pneumonia that ended up being his death. Although she had come to live with the Cranston family in order to take care of him—and with hopes that she might be able to do something for him—there were only a few in the house that she’d become fond of. Marcus, of course, who delighted in bedtime stories and hot soup, Mr. Taylor, who had taken the time to show her the ins and outs of the rather large mansion, and Miss Cora. She was twenty-five, only a year older than Julia, and was Marcus’s favorite aunt. Frequently, she would skip brunch in order to play pirates with Marcus, and when he got too sick to get up from his bed, she would put on little puppet plays to entertain him.
Julia had once asked how she’d come to be so fond of the boy and Cora revealed that she could have no children of her own, making her dote lavishly upon her nephew. She was taking his death the hardest of all.
When they had reached the bottom of the stairs, Mr. Taylor put down her suitcase and turned to her. “I’ve hailed a carriage for you, Miss Julia,” he told her somberly. “He’s waiting for you outside.”
Julia thanked him and gave him a quick hug, not lingering because she was still unmarried and he was a household servant. Propriety still mattered, whether she enjoyed the idea or not.
When she pulled away, Julia took one last lingering look at the mansion. It was large and, she thought, rather opulent; so different from the little apartment she had in the city. She had left it to become the live-in nurse for the Cranstons, but now that the time had come for her to leave, she was in a bit of a bad spot. She hadn’t kept her apartment after moving in, thinking that there would be plenty of time to find another one before she was to leave. At the time, she had hoped her leaving would signal the return of Marcus’s health rather than his death.
As things happened, Marcus died in his sleep one night, and just like that, there was no longer a need for Miss Julia.
Just as Julia was about to leave, turning towards the door as Mr. Taylor gathered up her bag once again, the door to the far room burst open. A tearful Cora glided into the room, her cheeks and nose the same rosy red color. She clutched a handkerchief and used it to dab at her eyes now and then. Sniffling, she called out to Julia, “Wait! You can’t possibly leave without saying goodbye!”
Julia paused, smiling sympathetically at Cora. “I’m so sorry. I just thought it might be better for everyone if I left before the funeral service. I hate to be a bother.”
Cora waved her off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I consider you my dear friend. You did more for poor Marcus—” she choked a little on his name as it left her lips, “—than anyone here. I daresay you loved him more than his mother.”
Sorrow plucked at Julia’s heartstrings and she did her best not to
grimace. She had cared for Marcus, though she had tried her best to distance herself from him. As time wore on, she knew that there was little she could do for the poor boy and death was inevitable. She didn’t want him to leave such a heavy weight on her, but he had wormed his way into her gentle heart and if she were being honest with herself, his death affected her greatly.
“I will miss him,” she answered Cora in a small voice.
Cora sniffled as she came to a halt in front of Julia. “Oh, I don’t want to stay in this house with its dreadful ghosts!”
Julia understood that this wasn’t just about Marcus. Cora and her family had experienced a good deal of grief the last few years—many people had after the war with the South—and more than a few hard memories wandered the mansion halls.
Taking Cora’s hand in her own, Julia gave it a gentle squeeze in comfort. “You won’t stay, will you?”
Cora shook her head. “No. Christian and I are going to New York in a few days. My brother-in-law is already unhappy with my extended stay and he and Christian have never gotten along.”
“Perhaps that is for the best. There’s nothing really keeping you here now.”
With a sigh, Cora nodded her head in agreement. “No, there isn’t. My sister is too busy worrying over her dresses and the state of the house to even acknowledge her grief, and I am not interested in enduring the inevitable argument between the two of us because of it.” Dabbing at her eyes and sniffling again, Cora asked, “And what of you? Where shall you go now that my dear nephew has left for Heaven?”
Brides of Grasshopper Creek Page 54