Mail-Order Mismatch: Brides of Burlington County, Book Two

by Amelia St. James

  Tilly has been trying to have a child since she and Paul married, and has been unable to. My heart breaks for her. It doesn’t seem fair that she has been filled with both hope and anguish every month for years now, while I conceived almost immediately. I haven’t told her yet, and I’m hesitant. I don’t want to break her heart. I know it’s not my fault, but I feel guilty for having this secret joy.

  The fear is more complicated, and I’ve only ever spoken of it to my friend Lauren. She was my closest friend at the factory, having helped me get hired there. We met on the streets of Camden, and I was in pretty awful shape. She took me in and helped me recover from a lot of things. I feel comfortable telling you more about it now, especially since your mail is secure.

  I was Thea’s age when my parents died. We had set up a community that was religious and focused on gender equality, along with financial equality. It was our property, and we were helping people, so I never really questioned why we lived in our large family home while the members of the commune lived in uniform row houses. It was just the way I grew up.

  Some members didn’t see it as fair, and the commune began to unravel. Some people wanted complete equality and uniformity, and others wanted hierarchy and control.

  After my parents died together in a carriage accident, my father’s close friend and fellow commune member, Web Anderson, felt that the groups could be reunited by a forced wedding between me and his son. His logic seemed flawed, and I never fully understood it, but he was adamant. I didn’t have any family nearby, and I was at his mercy. He pushed for marriage, and I was able to negotiate an engagement in order to stall until I was sixteen.

  His son, Jasper, was a little older than I was, and I thought I could talk some sense into him. It didn’t work, and he became aggressive, leaving bruises. In my naïve state, I thought I could go to his mother and seek comfort, but I overheard a conversation that broke my heart instead.

  Web and his wife were speaking of my future first-born child, having decided that they were going to raise him or her themselves. They wanted my father’s bloodline to continue so they could keep the people engaged and obedient through who they had begun to call the messiah, but the real truth of it was that Mrs. Anderson wanted another baby and Web wanted to inherit the land outright.

  It’s all still so difficult for me to understand, but some people don’t make sense. My parents would never have condoned this action, and certainly spoke against forced marriages of young women. Anyway, I went home that night without alerting the Andersons of the bruises their son had inflicted, more alone than I had ever been, accompanied by my dog, Shep.

  I went into my parents’ bedroom to find comfort among their things, namely, their Bible. I held it and rocked back and forth. A noise from the front of the house disturbed me. Shep began to bark and ran down the stairs as I smelled smoke.

  I knew the house was on fire, but after what had happened earlier, I immediately assumed it was set intentionally. I hadn’t been cooking and the candles hadn’t been lit before I went upstairs to my parent’s room, just the one in the room with me.

  Men were gathered outside, but I’m not certain who. I was afraid someone had set the fire to drive me out of the big house, ending what they had seen as unfairness that night, but it could have been Jasper’s way of retaliating from learning I didn’t want to marry him. Either way, I was scared.

  Shep wouldn’t come with me, staying by the door and barking instead. I ran back upstairs and climbed out the window in the rear of the house and went down the trellis. At the bottom, I hid in the shadows to open a window for Shep, thinking he’d come when I softly called to him.

  When I opened the window, the blast breathed fire from the house, and a pane of glass cut my face. It caused the scar that so easily defines me, but losing Shep and all tangible memories of my parents that night was what really changed me.

  I escaped, assuming the Andersons would think I died in the fire. I walked all that night, holding my skirt up to my face. I wanted to live, but not like that. Not under the conditions set forth by religious zealots who distorted and twisted God’s word and everything my parents lived for.

  Lauren took me in, and in some ways, I owe her my life. I was so young and filled with false hope. I didn’t think they would come for me but after four years of hiding and working, I saw Mrs. Anderson in a carriage in the streets, and I was almost positive she recognized me.

  I left and came to you, unknowingly bringing you into my messy past. For that, I’m sorry, but I do not regret the turns my life has taken. Lauren was the only one who knew where I was going, and she sent me the warning in the telegraph, using her name as my middle name in code.

  Web won’t stop looking for me until he finds me, and I’m afraid. I know Holden will protect me and our unborn child, but I’m afraid to tell him about my past. He deserves my honesty, but I’m afraid he will see me as someone who broke a commitment and ran.

  I know him to be a loyal man, and have hope that we can work through this. Despite my worries, I am content.

  My hope for you is that you have the strength to face those who would try to make you feel as if you shouldn’t hold your head high. As your first ever attempt to matchmake, I feel compelled to encourage you in what you are doing. Without knowing it, you provided a safe haven for me. If it had not been for you, I wouldn’t have met Holden. He brings me great happiness, even on our worst of days. Thank you.

  Love,

  Angelica

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Angelica sat on the front porch and rocked, the rhythmic movement soothing her as she weighed telling Holden what was heavy on her mind. The package of herbs was more worn than ever now, kept tucked into her apron pocket for safe-keeping. She desperately wanted to give them to Tilly, but fear that it wouldn’t work paralyzed her.

  If she gave the herbs to her sister-in-law and raised her hopes only to have them dashed, she wasn’t sure how Tilly would respond. She didn’t know the kind of heartache Tilly had been experiencing, but the yearning on her face when she spoke of wanting children made Angelica desperate to help.

  “What’s weighing so heavily on your mind that you didn’t even hear me coming?” Holden stood before her, looking slightly agitated.

  “I’m sorry.” She stood, nearly tripping over Cam.

  “Don’t be.” Holden took her hand. “But I need you to be aware of your surroundings. If Hog finds out we helped Samantha, he’s going to retaliate.”

  “I understand.” She sighed. “I still think it was worth taking the chance.”

  Her husband sat down on the rocking chair before gently settling her on his lap and wrapping his arms around her. “I agree.”

  “Do you think she’ll ever find what she’s looking for?”

  Holden exhaled, his breath frosted in the cold air. “I don’t know. I want to believe she will, but truthfully, it might be hard for her to do.”

  She nodded, resting her head against his shoulder.

  “Is that all that’s on your mind? I didn’t think you’d be this worried about her since you mentioned that she was doing well at Elly’s.”

  Angelica shook her head. “I’m not sure how to work through something I’ve been wondering about Tilly.” She felt his arms stiffen a little, and regretted speaking her mind.

  “Go on.”

  She sat up straight, looking at him as she spoke. “I’m pregnant, Holden.” She watched him for a heartbeat as his emotions rolled across his face—first surprise, then shock, followed by happiness. He smiled broadly before pulling her close.

  “I’m going to be a father?” His voice was slightly muffled against her hair as he gently rubbed her back.

  “You are.” Angelica closed her eyes, relaxing into his embrace without worrying for once how anyone else would respond to her news.

  “I’m very happy.” He held onto her until she pulled back, then reached for her hand. “Are you?”

  “I’m pleased. I didn’t expect it so so
on, but I’m delighted.”

  “So why do you seem sad?”

  Angelica stared off toward the barn, not wanting to say what was on her mind but knowing she had to. Swallowing hard, she said, “I am afraid of hurting Tilly. She and Paul have been hoping for years to become parents and haven’t been able to.”

  “And you feel guilty?”

  She faced him, the odd duality of feeling excited and guilty warring within her. She nodded.

  “I understand. But I can’t imagine Tilly will be anything other than overjoyed for us. What they’re going through is their own journey, and we have ours. The important thing is that we go through our journey together, supporting each other as God meant for us to do so.”

  Angelica settled back against him, letting his words sink in. “I am so thankful for the life that we live together, Holden. I just wish deep in my heart that Tilly could have a baby.” She tried not to cry, but tears still fell. She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve, the wetness chilling instantly.

  “Don’t cry, my love. Tilly will follow the path that God has set out for her. I don’t want you to be afraid to feel joy.”

  “Holden, promise me you’ll stand by me, no matter what happens in life.”

  “I promised my life to you the day we met, Angelica, and I meant every word.”

  Angelica closed her eyes, praying silently that he’d still want her if ever Web found her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dearest Angelica,

  Tell him everything.

  Love,

  Mrs. Elly Bates

  P.S. Lauren is here.

  Holden watched his wife’s myriad of reactions as she read the letter he’d brought home, curious but not fond of prying.

  “Is everything alright?”

  She began to cry, nodding but looking afraid. Her reaction made him feel edgy. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out together.” He took her by the hand and led her to the table, pulling out the seat closest to the fireplace for her to sit. She looked pale and it worried him.

  “I have some things I’d like to tell you, Holden, and I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.”

  He sat across from her, bracing himself for what was coming. The way she was looking at him reminded him of his mother the day she told him that his father had abandoned them. “What is it?” He sounded more gruff than he’d intended, but the wall he felt building between him and his wife startled him.

  “I need to tell you about this.” She pointed to her scar, her gaze meeting his with trepidation.

  He put his hand on the table, palm up. He wanted to comfort her, but the way she looked at him made him wonder how she’d react to his touch. He watched her stare at his hand a moment before she put her hand in his, their palms nestled together before she began to speak.

  “My parents died in a carriage accident when I was fifteen.” She met his eyes, telling him what he already knew but he sensed she needed to talk uninterrupted. “We had established a community on our property that consisted of people in need of help. Homeless, some of them. We set them up with homes and created a self-sustaining environment with God at the center of our lives. My parents wanted to help people, but they also wanted to shape the world a little bit into a place that empowered women to learn skills that they could use to support themselves in the future, should they need to.”

  “Is that where you learned how to cook for a large group?”

  She gave him a weak smile but squeezed his hand. “Yes. I also learned canning, preserving, gardening, trapping, some woodworking, and archery.”

  “Archery?”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “You’re full of surprises.”

  Her smile faded. “Unfortunately, yes.” She met his eyes, hers clouded with grief and something else he couldn’t define. “We trained and we worshiped and we had peace, for a time. Eventually, the people in the commune wanted complete equality, with some people becoming upset that the house my parents raised me in was different than the row houses they lived in. Others wanted more power and control, feeling resentment that my parents had the final say in what happened to their property.”

  She shifted, gripping his hand tighter. “Before we knew it, there was turmoil and angst and frustration. My parents didn’t outright voice it to me, but I think they realized the social experiment failed miserably. They were both philosophers, and they truly meant well, but when things began to sour, they spoke quietly of us relocating under the cover of the night. They were getting ready for it, I’m sure of it. They didn’t want to hurt anyone, nor did they want to force the people off their land, but they knew the situation would continue to decline.

  “After my parents died, I had only the people of the commune to turn to. We had invested everything into them, and I lacked any other family around. I buried my parents and grieved, trying to find my way in the new environment that I lived in.”

  “What was new about it, other than your parents were no longer there?” Holden hated interrupting, but he wanted to know every detail, unsure whether or not Angelica would open up again.

  “Well, the commune came under the absolute control of my father’s second in command, Web Anderson. He clamped down hard on the people and said he wanted to reunite the two groups who had begun to splinter off before my parents died.”

  “What did he do to reunite them?” Holden watched her with wary eyes, feeling a nagging fear of what she was going to say next.

  She swallowed hard, pulling her hand away. “Well, Web wanted to marry me off to his son immediately. He said it was the best thing to bring peace between the sides.”

  “What happened?” Holden watched, growing cold in the pit of his stomach.

  “I had to think of something fast. I couldn’t go through with it.” She grimaced. “I told Web I would but wanted to wait until I turned sixteen so I could honor my parents’ wishes. The truth of it is that my parents never would have wanted me to marry at sixteen, but stalling was the best I could hope for.”

  She waited, pausing so long that Holden wasn’t sure if he should speak or wait. Finally, she said, “His son, Jasper, was a little bit older than I. He was surly, though, and I thought maybe it was because he didn’t want to be married to me. Hopeful that we could work together to change his parents’ minds, I went to speak with him.

  “He became angry, hurting my arm and leaving bruises. I felt so alone and afraid.” Her voice cracked.

  Holden felt seething anger in the core of his being, and sitting to listen to more of what Angelica had to say was difficult, but he needed to hear it as much as she needed to say it. “What happened next?” He looked at her scar in the flickering light, his curiosity mingling with a deep anger, the feeling unsettling to him.

  “I went to see Web and his wife, but stopped short when I heard them talking.” She looked up at him, anguish and betrayal on her face. “I heard them talking about me, and it made my blood turn cold.”

  She blinked back tears. “Web was reassuring her that I would marry Jasper and the union would produce a child. She sounded so happy when she told him that she had to raise the child because I wasn’t old enough to be a good mother.”

  She shuddered. “They were going to force me into a union earlier than I wanted to and then take my first-born child, using the excuse that I was too young.” She crossed her arms about herself, and Holden wanted to pull her out of the past, but they both needed her to stay there. He sensed she was telling him now for a specific reason, and worry for his wife forced him to sit and listen.

  “Why do you think they wanted you to have a child?”

  “They spoke often enough of it uniting the people of the community, but I thought at the time that it was so Mrs. Anderson could have another baby to raise at her age. Her children were grown, and it seemed like maybe it was past the time for her to have more.”

  Holden considered her words. “Did your parents leave a will, detailing what happened to their estate?”

&nb
sp; She shook her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking along those lines, but it seems logical that they would.” Her eyes met his, the look there desperate. “I never got a chance to find it, though.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was in our home with my dog, Shep. I was the only one inside when it caught fire.” Her hands began to shake. He reached for her hands, holding tight.

  “What happened?”

  She looked up, her face pale. “I ran downstairs through the heat and smoke, coughing. Shep was at the door, barking furiously. He wasn’t barking at the flames, which made me scared. I was able to see out a window well enough to spot three men standing outside. They weren’t making any effort to help, despite the noise Shep was making.”

  She shuddered. “I knew then that they intended harm. I don’t know why anyone would do something like that.”

  “How did you get out?”

  “I ran back upstairs but Shep wouldn’t come with me. He stood guard. There was a trellis that ran down one wall behind the house, and I was able to climb down it. Thinking to save my dog, I pulled open a window to call him. He was all I had left.”

  She stared at him, lamplight reflecting in her tears. He wanted to pull her to him but couldn’t. She needed to finish.

  “The fire had spread even more than I expected. I didn’t stop to think or I would have realized that Shep had stopped barking by then. I opened the window and tried to call to him, but there was a blast of heat and glass.” She looked down at her lap. “That’s where the scar came from, but so many more that can’t be seen come from that night.”

  “How did you get away?”

  “I hid until I could sneak off, and then I walked all night.”

  “Injured and alone?”

  She nodded. His heart shattered. He felt the uncomfortable pull to give in to tears but brushed it off, biting his lip instead. “Why are you telling me this now?”