by Natalie Dean
Clara’s Mail Order Joy
Home for Christmas, Book Five
Natalie Dean
© Copyright 2019 by Kenzo Publishing - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document by either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Dedication
I’d like to dedicate this book to YOU! The readers of my books. Without your interest in reading these heartwarming stories of love on the frontier, I wouldn’t have made it this far. So thank you so much for taking the time to read any and hopefully all of my books.
And I can’t leave out my wonderful mother, son, sister, and Auntie. I love you all, and thank you for helping me make this happen.
Most of all, I thank God for blessing me on this endeavor.
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Home For Christmas
... a sweet, romantic journey spanning decades - even centuries - of holiday cheer.
There’s no better season than Christmas to look back with gratitude for all the family blessings and forward with anticipation to all the joy to come. A holiday romance or a surprise Christmas wedding that leads to a lifetime of happiness is an irresistible story for a true romantic. Add some snow, hot chocolate, and carols at the piano and you’ll fall in love again and again.
Second chances, mail order brides, marriages of convenience – this clean and wholesome series brings all this and so much more. Join our heroes and heroines from proper Regency England to the majestic Rocky Mountains as they find peace, true love, and inspiring Christmas spirit.
This multi-author Christmas series is brought to you by these best-selling authors:
Joyce Alec
Rose Pearson
Natalie Dean
Bethany Rose
Annie Boone
Hanna Hart
Sophie Mays
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Other books by Natalie Dean
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About Author - Natalie Dean
Chapter 1
The house seemed very barren now. The process by which a majestic Beacon Hill mansion could somehow become smaller without losing even an inch of its dimensions was a mystery, perhaps. It had begun its diminution as possessions were sold in order to acquire funds that Father’s businesses no longer generated for the Ellis income.
Once extravagantly wealthy because of his commercial instincts, Jonathan Ellis, the son of the senior Jonathan Ellis and Lady Georgianna, could no longer pay the bank what he owed them for the loans he had taken out to establish his factories, and they were no longer his. Even before that doleful day, the Gainsborough had been sold to pay for fuel to get the family through the harsh Boston winter; the horses had been sold so that the household expenses could be met; and in some ways, the most debilitating loss of all, the piano where Mother played while the daughters stood round her and sang as Father sat and enjoyed their music had been sold in order to pay for Mother’s treatment in the sanitorium. The loss of their income and the daily scrabble to find a way to sustain their household and then, when that was no longer possible and the servants were dismissed, the unceasing humiliation of being dunned by tradesmen coming to the door to demand what was owed to them had broken Mother’s spirit.
Father had not admitted to the girls that Betsy’s nerves had given way. He just said he had taken her to the country so that her health could be restored, as if she needed fresh air and quiet, and once she had them, all would be well. But Minnie, clever, resourceful Minnie, had seen the address of the facility when she brought in the mail to Father, and she was the one who had discovered the truth. Perhaps, Clara thought, that was what had ignited the mad scheme in her sister’s mind for her and her sisters to go West to Colorado as mail-order brides.
Minnie had arranged everything. Minnie was very good at arranging things. She had found a rancher husband for Hazel and a miner for Clara; the men lived in the same area and Minnie had been determined that she and her sisters would not be separated. Minnie had taken the least promising, in Clara’s eyes, of the prospects: a man with a small herd of cattle who farmed. She had gone West in April and according to her letters, was very happy. It had not been without trials, however; a snowstorm had killed off her husband’s cattle. But now they were embarking on a new enterprise, raising sheep. Clara was not sure what difference it made; it seemed that sheep were no less likely to perish in an unexpected snowstorm than cattle, but she did not profess to be familiar with the various differences involved in animal husbandry.
Then, Hazel, dear, uncertain, frightened Hazel had left. That too had been by Minnie’s design, for she knew that if Hazel were the last one to depart, she would stay in Boston, even though it would have meant privation and the humiliation of not being judged marriageable because of the family’s fall from social status. Clara shuddered. The thought of beautiful, golden-haired Hazel married off to a butcher or a shopkeeper was simply too horrible to consider. She had seen Hazel off to the train station, as much to bid her farewell as to make sure that she boarded the train in the first place.
Father had accompanied his two remaining daughters to see Hazel off. He had been stunned when Clara explained to him, upon his return from a failed trip to try to obtain a bank loan, why Minnie was not there. He stared at his daughters with disbelieving eyes; had Clara told him that Minnie had gone swimming in Boston Harbor so that she could marry Poseidon he would have been no less incredulous. He didn’t know anyone in Colorado. No one of the Ellis circle knew anyone who knew anyone in Colorado. And mail-order brides! Why, his beautiful daughters were the most sought-after belles in Boston! They could have their pick of husbands! Why would Minnie forsake the scions of wealth and birthright to marry a nonentity who made his living by working the fields and tending to cattle as if he were an ordinary laborer?
Clara, who had wondered the same thing, had been obliged to tell their doting, devoted Father what he did not want to hear. The family was nearly destitute. The established families who still had their ancestral wealth would be looking elsewhere for wives for their sons. Wealth did not marry poverty, no matter how beautifully the impoverishment was wrapped. Father, for all his business acuity, was a hopeless romantic where his family was concerned and he had had no notion of the dwindling invitations to social e
vents in Boston and what that meant.
Minnie had known that it would take Clara to tell the truth. Hazel was too tender-hearted and she never would have been able to utter the words which explained Minnie’s decision. So, it fell to Clara to tell him, while Hazel wept and Father, when she was done, went off to his library, to sit there in solitude, and ponder this shattering turn of events.
By now, Hazel would have arrived in Colorado; it would take several weeks for a letter to arrive to confirm the fact, but Minnie was a faithful correspondent, writing weekly to maintain the ties binding sister to sister to sister. Hazel was in Colorado, married to her rancher husband—the owner of the most acreage and the biggest herd in Darby, the town next to Newton, where Minnie lived; so large was Mr. Harley Wyatt’s ranch that it actually abutted the property of Gavin Clifford, Minnie’s husband. Such vast stretches of land were unfathomable to Clara; Boston was one of the oldest cities in the United States, long since settled and home to layers of history and ancestry. But it was so; Minnie had told her so and Minnie was an astute observer.
It seemed that Hazel was likely to be a rich wife because her husband was rich in land and cattle, a form of wealth which was peculiar to Clara. But if one could afford servants and fashionable attire with dirt and cows, then so be it. Peter Edwards, who was to be Clara’s husband, had not yet struck something called the ‘mother lode’ in his mine, but his letters expressed confidence in the end results of his labors. Silver and gold, at least, were a currency that Clara could understand in terms of their ability to translate into the finer things which life offered to those who could afford them.
Father was appalled nonetheless and the closer the date came for his last daughter’s leave-taking, the more vocal he was in expressing his concerns.
“Clara, a miner?” he said again as they sat down, just the two of them, at the mahogany dining table where the family had shared their meals and where they had entertained their English relatives, Bostonians of note, and other illustrious guests.
Clara placed plates in front of their chairs. She sat down and Father followed. Despite the loss in staffing and a distinct reduction in the variety and refinement of their meals, Jonathan Ellis had not sacrificed his manners and a gentleman did not sit down while a lady remained standing.
“Yes, Father,” she said, trying to be patient. “Mr. Edwards is a miner and a Christian and I am sure that he will prove to be a man of virtue as well. When his mine strikes the vein of silver that is there, the choice will prove to be a wise one.”
“He hasn’t struck it yet. He was an army officer, you say. And any number of other things. Now he is seeking silver or gold, in common with thousands, perhaps millions, for all we know, of others. Not everyone will end up finding it.”
Clara was perfectly aware of the fact that not all who sought gold were lucky enough to find it. But she had to have faith that Mr. Edwards would prove to be successful in his venture.
“Father, you know that I must go. I have told you so. You must follow through on finding lodgings near Mother. You must give up this house; there is no money for it. You must have a place to live and living near Mother is best for the two of you. Now, we will go tomorrow to search for a place that will suit you. We will decide what we need to sell in order for you to be able to go. In between . . . I wish to visit Mother before I go.”
“Your mother—"
“Mother is in a sanitorium for her nerves,” Clara said, not allowing her father to try to fabricate a more appealing account of why Mother was not with them. “I wish to see her before I go. We do not know how long it will be—" her voice nearly broke, but she maintained her control— “before I can see her again. As soon as Mr. Edwards has mined sufficient silver to afford it, I shall send for you both to come West and visit us. You shall come,” she said with urgency. “Promise me that.”
“Come West? I can hardly promise, Clara, not with your mother so frail.”
“I shall visit her and explain to her.”
“No! You cannot tell her that you are not at home,” Father said urgently. “If she knew that Minnie and Hazel were not here, I do not know what she might—I don’t know how she would respond. I am sure that Dr. Volcker would not be in accordance with your wishes to tell her. He said that she is very—she is very tired. Bad news would weary her. In fact, it is not at all advisable for you to see her. The shock of seeing you unexpectedly, you realize, could be very harmful to her health.”
“She is my mother and I am leaving Boston for Colorado. We will go tomorrow and we will find a place where you may live in comfort, without unnecessary extravagance or deprivation, close to Mother so that you may visit her every day. I am sure that seeing you daily will restore her to health. Mr. Edwards will strike a vein of silver so immense that all of our financial worries will vanish. I will wire the funds so that you and Mother will be able to travel in luxury all across the country to Colorado and we will be together. Perhaps,” a note of hope entered her voice, “perhaps you will be so pleased with Colorado that you will desire to stay there and live with your daughters. Yes, that could very well be and would that not be a most satisfactory denouement to our separation which I am sure will be temporary?”
Jonathan Ellis, Jr. surveyed his daughter dubiously. Clara was the most pragmatic of his children, the one least likely to book passage on a flight of fancy. If she said that this was the eventual scenario, then perhaps it was.
“I cannot foresee a time when your mother’s health will be strong enough for her to undertake such a journey,” he said. “Even if she should do it, the life out there in such a primitive place—why, Clara, Colorado has not even been a state for very long—would surely sap what strength she had.”
“Minnie says that they are advancing at a rapid pace,” Clara said. “It is not the grim and barren frontier that you are imagining. Why, Denver has an opera house! Think of it, Father, you will be able to enjoy Italian opera in a city not so very far from where we shall live.”
“And the roads to get to Denver?” her father, not normally given to sarcasm, asked.
“Father,” Clara scolded. “You know very well that when Boston was first settled, it did not appear as it does now. Should Denver and the other cities in Colorado fail to be given a chance to thrive in their due?”
Her father frowned thoughtfully. She was correct in her analysis. Still, he suspected that it would be a very long time before the cities of Colorado were able to rival the culture of Boston.
“Besides, Father,” Clara continued, determined to press her advantage no matter how minimal it might be, “If you but do your part and visit Mother every day to encourage her, she will surely be strong enough for the journey. You know that we shall pine for you until you and Mother at least visit us.”
“I shall endeavor to try,” her father promised. “I can do no more than that.”
Chapter 2
Over the course of nearly two thousand miles was, Clara decided, more than enough time to ponder one’s future and assess one’s past. Much more than enough. The railroad journey from Boston to New York had been occupied by thoughts of Mother, who was so very weak but so pleased to see Clara. Father had not wanted his daughters to know that their Mother was in a medical facility where she could get treatment for the vague maladies which beset her. But she had perked up when Clara told her that she was taking a trip to Europe with friends. Father had looked startled at the lie, but Mother had not known it was a lie and she had brightened immediately.
Clara had reasoned to herself, and to Father afterward on the way home, that it was of no consequence. She needed to be able to explain why she would not be returning to visit Mother for a long time; Mother would fret if she knew that Clara was leaving for the West, but she would not be at all perturbed for her daughter to be spending time on the Continent. By the time Mr. Edwards had mined enough silver to be able to afford the railroad tickets for the Ellises to make the journey to Colorado, Mother would surely be much improved.
They had found lodgings for Father in a respectable boarding house not far from the facility where Mother was staying. He would have three rooms for himself at a reasonable rate, the woman who managed the boarding house assured him. Meals were provided for very little extra; it was really a bargain, she assured them. He even had his own private bath room. The house had once belonged to a prosperous shipping magnate who had died with no heirs. The mansion had been bought and renovated so that its rooms were suites for paying boarders. Clara had inspected the rooms that would be her father’s home with particular care to make sure there were no fleas, rats or other vermin and she had found the establishment to be suitable for a gentleman.
Father had not been happy to have to sell so many of their furnishings and belongings, but Clara had insisted. In fact, she had been ruthless. He would be living in three rooms, she reminded him, and he must be sure to save some of the possessions which were dear to Mother for when she was better. He had finally acquiesced to his strong-willed daughter’s logic and was settled into his new home with the things that meant the most to him. He planned to bring some of Mother’s belongings to the facility so that she would have them close by. He had seemed, finally, to accept the course of events, but when he bid Clara farewell, there were tears in his eyes.