“Let’s get going,” Uncle Thomas said, patting Emily on the shoulder and redirecting her attention. He was a little kinder than Aunt Clara and had a softer spirit, but he was still a very rigid man.
“There’s plenty of work to be done back at the house,” Uncle Thomas went on, steering his niece away from the pew on which they’d been sitting. “It’s more than enough to keep you busy.”
As Emily followed her aunt and uncle out of the chapel, she watched as her friends cheerily made their exit out of the side door. They looked so happy, and so excited, and, for a moment, Emily felt jealous of them. But, her jealousy wasn’t just over the fact that they’d be celebrating while she was stuck at home doing chores and cleaning. It went much deeper than that. She was jealous of their general “freedom,” as compared to hers, and the fact that, for the most part, they had parents or guardians who trusted them, had faith in their decisions, and encouraged their socialization and personal growth.
Once outside, Emily felt a rush of warmth overwhelm her. It came, in part, from the afternoon sun, but came, in larger part, from the merriment going on around her. She was pleased to see her fellow townsfolk in such festive, high spirits, yet also embarrassed that she could not share in their excitement. She and her guardians walked through the crowd as if they were on their way to conduct somber business.
“Emily!” a young man shouted upon seeing her pass.
Emily reluctantly turned and saw her former schoolmate, Charles Sinclair, standing some distance behind her.
“Hello, Charles,” she said, greeting him with a smile. It had been years since she saw him, but, for some reason, it felt as though little time had passed.
“Are you coming to the celebration?” Charles asked pleasantly.
“I—,” Emily began, scrambling to find the right words to explain her predicament.
“No,” Aunt Clara interrupted. She looked at Charles with a scowl that made him flinch and recoil.
“My niece will not be participating in such debauchery today,” Aunt Clara continued. “And, you, young man, should be advised to mind your manners. What nerve you have approaching an unmarried woman and trying to speak to her without her guardians’ consent!”
Charles face contorted, and he tried to hide is frown. “I’m very sorry, ma’am,” he said, averting his eyes from Aunt Clara’s cold, hard stare. “I did not mean to offend you or your family.”
Aunt Clara rolled her eyes and made a strange guttural sound that further expressed her disapproval. “Come along then,” she said, grabbing hold of Emily’s arm.
Emily flashed Charles a quick, apologetic smile, then made her way off with her aunt and uncle. When they arrived at their carriage, she looked back and saw that Charles had moved on and was now engaged in conversation with a group of other young people.
It’s happened yet again, Emily thought to herself as she climbed onto the carriage beside her aunt. Once more, my aunt has turned a friend, or potential suitor, away and prevented me from living a normal life.
As Uncle Thomas took the reins and set the horses to motion, Emily heard a banjo begin playing. The wedding celebration had officially begun—though, for her, it was over before it had even started.
Perhaps one day I’ll be allowed to attend such an event, Emily told herself. Then, her heart felt very heavy again, for she knew, if ever she did attend such an event, given the way things were going with her aunt and uncle, it would surely not be her own.
TWO
It had been four or five hours since Emily and her guardians left the town square, and Emily had spent the bulk of that time diligently doing housework while her aunt and uncle lazied about the house. She’d scrubbed numerous pots, pans, and other dishes; put a cauldron of stew on for dinner; washed the linens; swept the back porch; and cleaned up after her uncle’s two mastiffs, to name but a few things.
Aunt Clara and Uncle Thomas, on the other hand, had done a great deal of nothing. Uncle Thomas slept for a good chunk of the time, and Aunt Clara went back and forth between reading the Bible and reading a book of poems and hymns.
Such was the typical day in their home. For as long as Emily lived with Aunt Clara and Uncle Thomas, she’d been the one who took care of most of the housework. She was, in many ways, their maid more than a member of their family, and, at times, she wondered if that was why Aunt Clara and Uncle Thomas were so strict with her. Yes, they often cited their faith and social convention for having such a heavy hand, but Emily couldn’t help but wonder if their heavy eyelids were the real reason. It’s hard to come by free labor, you know.
“Is dinner done yet?” Aunt Clara called out from the living room, just as Emily went to check on the meal she was preparing.
“It’ll be a little longer,” Emily called back. “The turnips still need to soften a bit.”
Aunt Clara did not reply with words, but Emily could imagine her expression, and it made her sigh. Oh, how she missed her parents! They’d both been killed in a robbery eight years ago, which is how Emily wound up living with Aunt Clara and Uncle Thomas.
Aunt Clara was her father’s only surviving relative, and she took charge of Emily, who was 15 at the time, after the tragedy.
Emily sorely missed how different her life had been with her parents, not to mention how different her life would be, now, if they were still around. She knew they wouldn’t be so strict with her. They wouldn’t prohibit her from having friends or courting. They wouldn’t force her to do chores while they did nothing. They wouldn’t…
Just as Emily was silently opining her loss and situation, for the umpteenth time, there was an unexpected knock at the front door. She knew better than to rush into the other room, however. By rule of the house, she was not to answer the door, and was to stay out of sight when her aunt or uncle did.
But, nonetheless, Emily slinked over to the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room. She clung close to the wall, so as to listen in on what was about to happen.
“Yes?” Aunt Clara asked after opening the door just barely enough to see the caller.
“Good evening, ma’am,” a man’s voice said in a very polite manner. Emily’s heavy heart felt light. That voice belonged to Charles.
“What do you want?” Aunt Clara asked, as if she couldn’t be bothered.
“I came by to see if I might visit with Emily,” Charles replied.
“Certainly not,” Aunt Clara answered, giving the proposition no thought. “It’s late in the day, near supper, and my husband and I are both too busy to sit watch over your visit.” She went to shut the door, but Charles continued speaking.
“Oh,” he said. “Well, please accept my apologies for interrupting your day. And, please send Emily my regards.”
“Uh-huh,” Aunt Clara muttered.
“And, ma’am?” Charles asked. “Could you please give this to Emily?” He held out his hand, and Emily could distinctly hear a crinkling sound.
“What is it?” Aunt Clara asked.
“A sack of sugared dough balls,” Charles replied. “They were a treat supplied at the wedding celebration. I thought Emily might like some, since she was unable to attend.”
Emily’s light heart fluttered. Indeed, she rather enjoyed sugared dough balls, and was quite touched that Charles would bring them for her.
“Fine,” Aunt Clara said. “Give them to me.” She took the sack from Charles, and, then, without further word, shut the door right in his face.
Emily turned around quickly and went back to preparing dinner, so that her eavesdropping would not be discovered. After a few minutes, once the turnips had begun to soften, she went into the living room to tell her aunt and uncle that dinner was almost ready.
“The stew will be done shortly,” Emily said, entering the room.
Uncle Thomas shifted in his seat a little and nodded, and Aunt Clara grunted.
“Was there someone at the door earlier?” Emily asked, prodding.
“Yes,” Aunt Clara replied, tur
ning her face away from her niece. “But, it’s of no matter. It was a delivery—but, they came to the wrong address.”
“Oh,” Emily answered. She understood why her aunt looked away from her. It’s easier to lie to someone when you’re not looking them in the face or eyes.
Emily wanted to say something more. She wanted to address her aunt’s dishonesty. But, she knew that doing so would only make matters worse. She knew she’d likely get scolded for snooping, and, then, likely be punished, which would make her life all the more burdensome. So, as was usually the case, she bit her tongue and said nothing.
Emily returned to the kitchen, disheartened. She finished preparing the meal and set the dishes and food out on the table. Then, she called to her aunt and uncle.
Aunt Clara and Uncle Thomas sluggishly walked into the dining area and sat at the table. After blessing the meal, Uncle Thomas greedily served himself a huge bowl of stew, taking most of the meat into the scoop. Next, Aunt Clara helped herself to some, taking what was left of the meat. By the time it was Emily’s turn to serve herself, all that remained was broth and turnips, which, thankfully, were softened to perfection.
The three of them sat and ate their supper in quiet. Uncle Thomas devoured his food without haste, while Emily tried her best to enjoy it. Aunt Clara, however, merely picked at her meal, as if she weren’t all that hungry—and, as Emily eyed the grains of sugar scattered along the bib of her aunt’s blouse, she knew why. Her aunt’s appetite had been spoiled by the treat that was meant for her.
THREE
“You really missed out on a jolly time,” Mary Masters said.
It was now three full days after Joshua and Ann’s wedding, but the townsfolk was still all a-talk about it. Theirs had been one of the grandest wedding celebrations this quaint little New York town had ever seen.
“I’m sure that I did,” Emily replied forlornly. “But, you know how things are with my aunt and uncle.”
“Sadly, I do,” Mary responded.
Mary had been Emily’s best friend since shortly after Emily moved in with her aunt and uncle, and was one of the only people Emily was still allowed to see with any regularity. The two of them belonged to the same sewing circle, which met in the backroom of the chapel every Wednesday. It was their job to mend the clerical garments and service linens—and, that is precisely what they were doing during this conversation.
“I don’t know how much longer I can take it,” Emily said, staring down at the work before her. “They don’t allow me to do anything, and, sometimes, I feel like I’m their captive… or slave. I fear I’ll never have a life of my own.”
“I’ve been praying for you,” Mary said kindly. “I’ve been asking God to help find a way to overcome your hardship… You’re such a smart, beautiful woman—and such an amazing person—and you deserve more out of life than what you’ve been given.”
Emily looked up from her work and smiled at her friend.
“Thank you,” she said, fighting back the tears that pooled in her eyes. “I just don’t—”
Before Emily could finish her thought, or her sentence, Mary interjected.
“I’m not done,” Mary giggled. “I said I’ve been praying for you, and asking God for a way to help you—and, I think I’ve found one.”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Really?” she asked eagerly.
“Possibly,” Mary answered. She leaned closer to her friend, so as to whisper. “Have you heard of the Matrimonial Times?” she inquired quietly.
Emily looked at Mary and raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that one of those ‘mail-order bride’ periodicals?”
“Yes,” Mary replied. “So, you’ve heard of it?”
“I guess,” Emily replied. She nearly pricked her finger with her needle, and turned her attention back to the garment she was stitching. “But, I don’t see what good such a periodical would do me. My aunt and uncle won’t allow me to see any man they’ve met here in town, so I doubt they’d let me ‘see’ a stranger I met through a newspaper advertisement.”
“Then why tell them?” Mary asked. Now, she was the one raising her eyebrows. “They won’t let you have a life here. So, why not look elsewhere to find one?”
“Oh, Mary,” Emily chuckled. “That seems like a lot of effort—and a good deal of deception. I don’t even know if it’s in my character to do such a thing… Plus, who’s to say such arrangements are even successful? I’ve heard about mail-order brides and matrimonial advertisements before, but I’m a little weary. I mean, who’s to say I’d even find a suitable man? There are no—”
“Look around,” Mary interrupted.
“Huh?” Emily asked.
“Look around our circle,” Mary elaborated. “Do you see anyone missing?”
Emily covertly looked around the room, and examined the faces of the other women in her circle. Sure enough, one familiar face was missing—and, given whose it was, Emily couldn’t believe she’d heretofore missed that it was missing.
“Bella’s not here,” Emily said, acknowledging the young woman’s absence. And, by the way, Bella was a rather unfitting name for the woman in question. Though it was her birth name, Bella was not “beautiful” by any outward measure. She was a plump thing with an unsightly face and poor personal hygiene habits.
“Correct,” Mary replied, leaning closer to her friend again. “Bella’s not here today. Nor will she be in the future. She left town yesterday and headed for California, where she’s to marry a widowed prospector with two children.”
“What?” Emily asked, somewhat shocked. “Bella’s getting married?”
“Yes, from your lips to God’s ears, she is,” Mary replied.
“She found her husband-to-be in the Matrimonial Times—and, if she could find a suitable husband there, imagine who you could find!”
Emily cocked her head to the side and listened.
“It is quite a blessing,” Mary explained. “With the shortage of men here, a girl like Bella would have never found a husband. But, through this periodical, she did. Granted, she had to settle for one who was significantly older and already had children—but, for her to find any man is quite a feat.
“You have beauty and brains on your side. But, your aunt and uncle are otherwise against you. If you, too, ever want to marry, you must be realistic and do what you can to beat those odds. This is an opportunity for you, and I think you should seize it.”
“I don’t know, Mary,” Emily said, shaking her head. “It’s frightening and risky. Maybe such a periodical worked for someone like Bella, but or someone like me, I just don’t—”
“Someone like you?” Mary asked, smiling a telling smile. “Well, my friend, I’ll tell you this much… After hearing about Bella’s success, I decided to look at the Matrimonial Times as well. I penned a letter to a man in Montana just yesterday, in fact.”
Emily was surprised. Mary was a fine-looking girl with considerate, supportive parents.
“These marriage advertisements are very helpful to women who would not otherwise find a husband because of their looks or disposition,” Mary went on. “But, they are also helpful to women who, for whatever reason, can’t find spouses. I’ve had no luck finding anyone with whom there is mutual interest here—so, I figured I’d see what lies beyond this town and city. And, perhaps, you, too, should as well.”
Mary reached into her satchel and removed a book. She handed it to Emily, and Emily saw the tip of a newspaper pointing out from its pages.
“Just take a look at it later,” Mary said as Emily stared down at the book.
Emily took the book and slid it into her bag.
“I hope you find someone that strikes your fancy,” Mary said with a smile. Emily smiled back at her and nodded.
“But, stay away from Kevin Ash of Montana,” Mary added. “That’s the man I wrote too, and I’m already invested in his response and daydreaming about him.”
“Very well,” Emily laughed. She turned her head back to her sewing work and allowed
her mind to wander.
FOUR
Later that night, long after Emily prepared and served dinner, Emily sat alone in her room, thinking. She reconsidered all of the things that Mary had said earlier and weighed them against her situation, needs, and desires.
At 23 years old, she’d watched many of her friends and former schoolmates get married. And, a good deal of them had already had children, gotten jobs, and went on to have healthy, happy families. Emily wanted these things for herself, too. But, no doubt, given her guardians’ restrictions and rules, she knew she’d be hard-pressed to find them.
Just as Joshua Spencer had gone on to court, and eventually marry, Ann Keller, Emily figured that Charles Sinclair would move on as well—and, so would the next suitor who attempted to court her, and the suitor after that, and the suitor after that… until, finally, the suitors stopped coming. At the rate things were going, Emily would end up a spinster, and no man would want her.
But, what type of man advertises for a bride in a newspaper? Emily asked herself. She knew very little about the bride by mail system and couldn’t imagine a man like Joshua Spencer or Charles Sinclair looking for a companion in such a way. They were both too handsome and successful.
Emily’s curiosity got the better of her, and, without even thinking about it, she went to her bag and extracted the book Mary had given her. Then, she extracted the well-worn copy of the Matrimonial Times.
At the top of the front page of the newspaper, there was a blurb that read: The landscape of our country is changing. Good men are leaving our major cities to lay claim to new properties and expand westward. The Matrimonial Times helps those men find wives where there are none and helps women find a purpose and companion outside of the cities where they outnumber men at least twofold.
Hmm, Emily thought to herself as she reread the blurb. Since the war, there had been a shortage of men in her town. But, she never paid much mind to it. She wasn’t allowed to see those men, after all—so, what did it matter how many of them there were?
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