Because of You

by Cathy Maxwell

  Samantha entered the kitchen and set the smaller things in the wooden box she’d kept in a corner to stand on when she needed extra height to reach something. She added the teapot and the remaining two teacups. “I think I have everything.”

  “Let us help you carry them,” Mrs. Porter offered. She picked up the quilt.

  “I would still rather stay here,” Samantha said.

  The two women overrode her. “Come now. You’ll need time to prepare for the wedding,” Mrs. Sadler said.

  Mrs. Porter linked her arm in Samantha’s. “We’ll help you. It will be so much fun.”

  Before Samantha knew it, they had her out the door and on her way to the inn.

  Yale watched the women tramp across the layer of snow until they disappeared behind the huge hemlock at the edge of the cemetery.

  He shut the door and raked his hair back from his face. What a devil of twist this was!

  For something to do, he sat at the kitchen table and polished his boots with a rag he’d found in a basin in the kitchen. The polish was in a drawer of the sideboard.

  Married!

  He’d never thought he’d marry. But he would go through with it. He owed her his life.

  However, their marriage would be one of convenience. She was already too upset to talk about the marriage rationally. He’d wait until after the ceremony. Then he’d explain that he had no intention of being a true husband to her. He couldn’t. He had to return to Ceylon. But he would set her up in a house of her own wherever she wished. Of course, if he told her that now, she would refuse to go through with it, even if it meant being ostracized in this small village.

  He wouldn’t let that happen to her.

  For a second, he allowed himself to consider what it would be like to be married. He’d never considered the matrimonial state before. The restrictions had never appealed to him.

  Still…in spite of her baggy crow-black dress, something about Samantha Northrup attracted him.

  She wasn’t classically beautiful, but there was a freshness about her that he admired. Her willingness to forgive others was an interesting trait. How did a person become that good?

  There was also the pull of something else between them, something Yale couldn’t quite identify. Something he’d never felt before.

  Perhaps he empathized with her over the unjustness of the villagers’ treatment of her. He wondered if even one of them had stopped to think what would happen when she left tomorrow. Or did they think he would stay in Sproule?

  The thought made him grin. If they believed that, then they were going to be sorely disappointed on the morrow.

  Rising, he walked to the bedroom and set his boots on the floor. He stripped and climbed into bed. His strength still wasn’t what it should be.

  However, tomorrow, he would do something right in his life.

  For a second, the thought that he was marrying her under a false name tickled his conscience, but he shrugged it aside. No one knew who he really was, and to explain would lead to complications he’d rather avoid.

  Instead, he would marry the vicar’s daughter and leave. He’d see that she had a fine home filled with beautiful things. Then he would return to his business affairs.

  After all, a man like him didn’t need anyone.

  With that thought in mind, he slept soundly.

  Samantha barely slept. She tossed and turned all night and didn’t close her eyes until shortly before dawn.

  Four hours later, Mrs. Sadler and Mrs. Porter woke her.

  “Wake up! Wake up!” Mrs. Porter chirped happily. “It’s your wedding day!”

  Samantha buried her face in her pillow. “I don’t want to marry,” she mumbled.

  Mrs. Sadler pulled her arm, half-dragging her from the bed. “Come now, no long face today, Miss Northrup. The decision has been made and the deed will soon be done. Your groom will be waiting for you in the church in less than two hours.”

  Now they had Samantha’s full attention. She stumbled out of the bed. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, her first thought was, “My hair is a mess.”

  “Close your eyes,” Mrs. Porter said.

  “I just opened them when you woke me,” Samantha said.

  “No, don’t close them completely,” Mrs. Porter said, as if Samantha was being silly. “We have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise—?”

  Mrs. Porter covered Samantha’s eyes with her cold hands. Samantha could hear the movement of feet. The door opened and closed and then the hands were lifted.

  Mrs. Sadler and her oldest daughter stood by the window holding what had to be the most beautiful dress Samantha had ever seen. It was white and made of material so fine it seemed to float. A deep hem of flowers of every color was embroidered on ribbon stitched around the bottom of the skirt and on the ribbon separating the high-waisted bodice.

  Samantha reached out and ran her fingers over the embroidery. “I have never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Well, try it on,” Mrs. Sadler ordered.

  Samantha turned to her in surprise. “It’s for me?”

  “It’s not for your bridegroom, I can tell you that,” Mrs. Sadler said. The women laughed.

  Samantha pulled her hand back, suddenly shy.

  “Oh please, Miss Northrup,” Mrs. Porter said. “You deserve a beautiful dress on your wedding day. Mrs. Biggers had the material, and Miss Mabel and Miss Hattie had the ribbon, and all of us got together last night and made this for you. It’s the latest fashion, even in London. See? Mrs. Biggers says they wear these little cap sleeves and this thin material even in the winter. Miss Mabel and Miss Hattie had the idea of sewing on the flowers. We wanted to make it special for you. We’ve been up all night.”

  Tears burned Samantha’s eyes. “You have. All of you,” she managed to say, and she hugged first Mrs. Porter, then Mrs. Sadler, and then her daughter Elmira.

  “Careful now,” Mrs. Sadler said. “We don’t want to crush the material. It should fit. We tried it on Elmira. She’s just about your size.” Mrs. Sadler’s daughter blushed.

  “It will be perfect,” Samantha declared. “I can’t tell you what this dress means to me.” She’d almost begun to believe none of them cared, yet look at what they’d done for her.

  “Come, let us start getting you ready,” Mrs. Porter said.

  For the next hour, Samantha was pampered in a way she’d never been treated before. It turned out that Mrs. Sadler had a talent for hairdressing.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” she told Samantha, before twisting Samantha’s hair up on top of her head. “Here, Elmira, hand me the pins.”

  Samantha didn’t know what to think. She usually wore her hair braided or in a simple knot at the nape of her neck. This new style emphasized the line of her slender neck and gave her regal bearing. Of course, it took a lot of pins to hold her heavy hair in place.

  “I should be so lucky to have so much hair,” said Mrs. Porter.

  “Yes, but yours is blond, while mine is a plain brown,” Samantha averred.

  “You’ve got a good rich hair color,” Mrs. Porter said, “My blond is growing grayer and grayer every year.”

  “Now for the dress,” Mrs. Sadler announced.

  It took all of them to get Samantha into the gown. When at last it was on, Mrs. Porter pulled the laces tight while Samantha stared at her reflection in the mirror. The gown fit her to perfection.

  The bodice was cut far lower than anything she’d ever worn. Still, the gentle swell of her bosom over the neckline was not too shocking and made her feel feminine, sophisticated.

  The dress was even the right length and the flowered hem gave it just enough weight to hang nicely.

  “It’s beautiful,” Samantha said.

  “No,” Mrs. Porter said, “you’re beautiful. Every bride is lovely on her wedding day, and you are no exception, Miss Northrup.”

  She did almost look pretty…and she couldn’t help but wonder
what Mr. Browne would think.

  There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Biggers entered without waiting for permission. “Is everyone ready for a wedding?” she trilled. She stopped in the doorway. “Why, Miss Northrup, you look quite handsome.”

  Samantha felt the heat of a blush. “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Biggers shut the door. “This is for you from the squire and myself.” She held out a shawl of the finest blue wool. “After we talked about the pattern for the dress, I feared it would be too cold. It is one thing for those belles in London to go traipsing around half naked, but tis another to do it so far north.”

  “Mrs. Biggers, I can’t accept…it’s too much.”

  “What nonsense!” She placed the shawl around Samantha’s shoulders and leaned close to her ear. “The truth is, I regret my angry words yesterday. I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”

  “You were upset. I understand.”

  Mrs. Biggers smiled. “I knew you would. Well, are we ready for a grand wedding feast? The squire and I also contributed to that. Someone has to act for your parents since yours are gone, God bless their souls.”

  “Thank you,” Samantha murmured, overwhelmed by this sudden generosity.

  Mrs. Sadler sent Elmira off to tell everyone downstairs to start for the church. “We’re almost ready.”

  “Have you seen the bridegroom?” Mrs. Porter asked.

  “No, I have not,” Mrs. Biggers said. “But I will tell you this, I wish his name were something other than Marvin.”

  “I think the same,” Mrs. Sadler said. “There isn’t anything romantic about the name Marvin.” She spit on Samantha’s shoes before rubbing a shine with the corner of her apron.

  “No, it’s a strong name,” Mrs. Porter declared.

  “Alys, think about it,” Mrs. Sadler said to her. “It’s fine if you are saying, ‘Marvin, come to supper. Marvin, wipe the mud off your boots.’ But try—” She raised her voice to a silly falsetto, “‘Marvin, take me!’ It doesn’t sound so good then.”

  The women burst into a fit of girlish giggles. Samantha was confused, but she didn’t want to let it show. She’d been a midwife; she knew what happened between a husband and a wife. She thought that was what Mrs. Sadler referred to.

  “Well, if every lad named Marvin looked like him,” Mrs. Biggers said in a sly voice, “then I would not mind a romp or two between the sheets. Besides, it’s not the name that matters but the man who wears it, and he strikes me as a very capable man.”

  Samantha stared in surprise at the normally correct and staid Mrs. Biggers. Even more shocking, Mrs. Sadler and Mrs. Porter snickered their agreement.

  Mrs. Biggers gave Samantha a playful slap. “You should have a good time later on, missy, or else I’ll begin to believe I’ve lost my eye for men.”

  During all her tossing and turning, Samantha had not considered the wedding night. How could she have been so naïve?

  “Come, it is time to go,” Mrs. Sadler said—and there was no time for Samantha’s doubts.

  Leaving, they had a bit of an argument over whether Samantha should wear her heavy cape or just the shawl. Mrs. Biggers feared the cape would ruin the impact of the dress. Everyone else, Samantha included, feared she would catch her death of cold.

  Samantha wore the cape. She reached in the pocket to put on her gloves, but Mrs. Biggers stopped her.

  “For a dress like that, you should have long gloves,” she said.

  “I have nothing but these.” Samantha held up her kid gloves that came to the wrist.

  “Well, they will have to do,” Mrs. Biggers said.

  The day outside was cold, but the sky was blue and clear, a rare day indeed! The snow sparkled under the sun. Mrs. Biggers’s sleigh waited outside the inn’s front door. “I thought we should take the bride in style,” she said.

  Roddy served as the driver. He helped all the ladies up into the sleigh. As he took Samantha’s hand, he said, “You look nice, Miss Northrup.”

  “Thank you, Roddy.” His compliment was deeply appreciated.

  As they drew closer and closer to the church, Samantha’s stomach started to tighten into nervous knots, but she refused to let it show. She walked to the church with her head high.

  St. Gabriel’s was over six hundred years old. A small, simple church, there was no vestibule. Therefore, when Samantha stepped through the door, the heads of everyone inside turned to gape at her. It looked as if the whole parish had turned out to see her wed.

  “Oh dear,” she sighed.

  Mrs. Porter heard her and gave her a quick hug. “You’ll be fine. Oh, here, give me your gloves. I think they spoil the dress. I didn’t marry in gloves, and Bert and I are doing fine.” Samantha took off the gloves and handed them to her.

  Squire Biggers waited to escort Samantha up the aisle. Samantha knew she should move forward but was so nervous, her feet felt as if they were glued to the floor.

  Mrs. Biggers must have sensed her distress. With a flourish, she lifted Samantha’s cape off her shoulders and repositioned the blue shawl.

  Everyone in the church seemed to sigh in appreciation. It was just the thing to bring Samantha to her senses.

  Squire Biggers offered his arm and she placed her hand on it. He started walking her to the front of the church.

  And then Samantha stopped dead in her tracks.

  Marvin stood waiting for her at the altar next to Vicar Newell, but this was not the man she remembered.

  Marvin had shaved. His jawline was stronger than she had imagined it. He almost looked like a completely different man—a man with character and breeding. And incredible good looks.

  His broad shoulders filled out the black homespun jacket Mr. Sadler had given him as if it had been tailored for him. He’d managed to find a neckcloth to go with the white shirt and he’d tied it in a style that had a bit of dash to it. He’d even shined his boots for the occasion.

  But the most disconcerting part was that he, too, stared as if truly seeing her for the first time. His gaze lowered slightly taking in everything from her low-cut bodice to the tip of her toes. When he raised his eyes, they were filled with obvious male approval.

  For her! Of all people!

  “Come, Miss Northrup,” Squire Biggers said. “It is time to meet your destiny.” He led her up the aisle.

  Chapter 6

  As Samantha walked toward the simple stone altar with its tatted lace altar cloth, images of endless Sundays spent in this church listening to her father’s sermons crossed her mind. “Oh, Father, I wish you were here now,” she said under her breath.

  In answer, for the quickest of moments, something warm and comforting rushed through her. It was the same sort of feeling that she’d always had whenever her father had given the benediction at the end of the service. A sense of peace. A sense of hope.

  And then she was standing beside her future husband.

  He seemed much taller than she remembered.

  He held out his hand. Samantha stared at it, uncertain. Squire Biggers took her hand from his arm and placed it in Mr. Browne’s.

  No, not Mr. Browne…Marvin.

  Vicar Newell did an adequate job with the service. He lacked her father’s resonant voice but she could still feel her father’s strength here in this holy place.

  She heard several women crying, overcome by emotion. Miss Hattie kept blowing her nose and Miss Mabel kept “shushing” her. It was like a hundred other weddings that Samantha had witnessed in this church.

  But this one was hers.

  She had trouble speaking her vows, finding herself more nervous than she’d anticipated. It wasn’t until she’d finished that she realized how tightly she was squeezing Marvin’s hand.

  For his part, he repeated his vows in a deep, steady voice without any betrayal of emotion…and then they were married. He slipped a thin gold band over her ring finger. It felt strange, and yet right.

  It had become the custom for the groom to kiss the bride at the end of the ceremony as a
pledge of their troth. But Marvin did not kiss her. He tucked her hand in his arm and walked her down the aisle. She almost had to skip a step to keep up with him.

  He didn’t stop until they were outside, shutting the church doors behind them. She released her hold. “Why are we in such a hurry?”

  “I would like us to take our leave,” he said briskly.

  “But the wedding feast—we can’t leave now. Everyone has made arrangements at the inn.”

  He frowned down at her. “Are you saying you wish to stay for the wedding breakfast?”

  Samantha didn’t understand the accusation. “They planned it for us…it’s all ready…”

  He made an impatient sound. “Don’t you realize what hypocrites these people are?”

  At that moment, the doors burst open and the villagers poured out full of good wishes. Mrs. Porter thought to bring Samantha’s cape, for which she was heartily grateful. Her dress offered no protection from the cold.

  “We thought you had disappeared,” Squire Biggers said, clapping Marvin on the back. “Congratulations, man! It’s good to see another join the ranks of those of us who have the parson’s noose around our necks.”

  Everyone laughed at his words—except Marvin.

  “Come now,” Squire Biggers said. “Just a joke. Here, let us go to the inn and I’ll toast your health.”

  Samantha looked at Marvin, beseeching him with her eyes to let them go to the inn with everyone. It was important to her. So far, this whole morning had been like her fondest dream. She had to go the inn. Every bridal couple went to the inn.

  His jaw tightened stubbornly. He was going to say no, and then his expression softened. “Of course, we will go to the inn.”

  Samantha had never felt so relieved. She received the congratulations and hugs in an almost euphoric state.

  Squire Biggers’s sleigh and horses took them back to the inn with the villagers walking behind. Samantha didn’t put on her gloves. She wanted everyone to see the shiny gold band on her left hand.