Writing a brief introduction about herself and making some slight references of him from her friend, Marie concluded the letter with saying that she hoped he was in the best of spirits and would be writing to her soon. After writing her name and address upon the envelope, she sealed the letter and delivered it to the postman the very next morning.
It was nine ‘o’ clock the following Sunday and Marie, having a day off, was lazily stretching her limbs in bed when the bell rang. Getting out of bed, she went out to meet the visitor but instead, found a neat envelope on the doorstep. Picking it up, she could not help but admire the perfect flick of the pen as she saw her name in bolds, “MARIE PATTERSON” etched across the front. Opening it instantly, she found the letter to be from Mr. Charles Andrews.
Dear Miss Marie Patterson,
I write to you with regard to your letter which, I must admit, from the excellent portrayal of your desires by the employment of most beautiful words, compelled me to withdraw time from my busy schedule and sit down to write to you my desperate yearning to meet you.
It pains my heart to realize that you reside quite far from me however; I must insist that our encounter cannot be suspended as it is my intense craving to meet the winsome lady behind those charming words. I hope, madam, that you would find it suitable to meet me on the railway station of Baxter Springs, Kansas midday, next Sunday. I request for your approval of the date and timings of our correspondence shortly. Hope to see you soon.
Charles Andrews.
Reading those intense, endearing words dripping with utmost respect from every corner, Marie, for the first time in her life, felt a fierce feeling of zealous love enter her blood. Those ravishing words had cast a spell upon her, melting the bleakness that once possessed her, into thin threads of profound devotion that wrapped themselves around her soul and emancipated shafts of glee every, growing second.
Marie promptly took out a clean sheet of parchment and wrote out her compliance to the requested date and timings and neatly folding it, she sealed the envelope and submitted it to the Post Office nearby.
THREE
Saturday…a shaft of sunlight seared through the curtains, stabbing Marie in the eye and waking her up from an intermittent sleep with a throbbing mind. She stretched out her arms out of tiredness. Stealing a glance at the alarm clock resting upon the bedside table, she realized it was already 6 ‘o’ clock and since she had a day off the following day, there was still time to drain away her sleeplessness. Cuddling herself in the blanket, Marie tried hard to sleep. However, something kept on tugging her, bothering her mind constantly. It felt as if this was no mundane day…some special appointment…dentist? No. Doctor? Doctor… Ah, yes. Then, it clicked. Mr. Andrews name hovered in her mind and she instantly sat up bolt upright. Scrambling out of bed immediately, she brushed her teeth, scrubbed her face at least thrice with mere soap and water and stood gazing at herself in the mirror. The paleness was still there representing her fragile soul however, the vigorous scrubbing had cleared her skin and under the rays of sunlight peering through a crack in the window, her oval-shaped face glowed with a fierce brightness; it seemed like looking at her heart inside out- the burning sensation, impossible to define, enthralling it. Her red-brown hair with dark crimson ends, glinting in the yellow light, falling at her chest in perfect curls. As she tried to picture his appearance in her mind, she realized her imagination had never proved to be so helpless before. Perhaps, it was because of the huge expectations she had drawn in her head about him which, she did not have the heart to do any sort of injustice by painting false assumptions.
Drawing herself away from the mirror, Marie motioned towards the lanky closet in the corner which, she had not opened since maybe, a whole year. It gilt-framed borders had lost their luster, rust creeping up from its sides and it was in an awful condition. Marie clutched the dusty knob hard, with great force as it had jammed and as it swung open, eventually, a cloud of dust entered her lungs. Coughing horribly, Marie stepped aside and ran her eyes through the cupboard from a distance. There was only one dress which had been her mom’s- it was beautiful. It was surprising that Marie had completely forgotten about it. It was a narrow, knee-length, pearly white satin dress with self, intricate embroidery magnificently done across the front. Its glamour was enhanced by a rich blood-red, incarnadine lace girth at the waist. Marie was absolutely dumb-struck. As she rubbed off the cake of dust that had accumulated on it, she realized that if it had not been for this magical dress, Marie would have been going wearing her awful white shirt of her uniform, perhaps. The whole idea made her wince.
Two hours later, Marie Patterson slid into her dress and got ready for her first ever meeting with a gentleman. She was exhilarated and frightened at the same time. As she examined herself in the mirror for just one last glance, she could not help but admire the perfection with which the dress fitted her, perhaps her mother bought it in her teens but hardly ever got the chance to wear it.
It would be a pretty long journey from Chicago to Kansas, she was taking an overnight train, but still needed to be hastily on her way.
She stopped a carriage and helped herself in. On the way to the train station, it began to rain heavily. Marie could hear the rain pattering against the window as she shivered horribly. As soon as she reached the train station, she hurriedly bought a ticket to Kansas and perched herself in a comfortable seat, helplessly trying to dry herself with her handkerchief. Marie’s head began to feel heavy as she could feel her fever crawling in. She felt sick.
Approximately fourteen hours later, the train stopped at the Kansas station. Taking a heavy breath, Marie stepped out of the train. Hastily she rearranged her hair and quickly ate the orange she had brought with her to refresh her breath. Racing her eyes through the thick crowd, she realized that it was absolutely impossible to find Mr. Andrews considering the fact that she had never even seen him before. Then suddenly, her eyes fell upon a medium-height man pacing the ground swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. It was near dusk, and a chill wind was blowing. The orange fiery ball was glowing brightly, splashing the lowering clouds with crimson. Marie could hear the constant rustling of the leaves as the searing wind blew through them leaving them behind to quiver and become as grim as ice.
He was clad in white raiment, while a jet black cape was thrown over his shoulders, secured at the neck with a big, black bow. Thick lustrous hair set in perfect spikes. A fair complexion with a tint of red splashed across his face and the compression beneath his cheek bones added to the elegance of this debonair man. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. Suddenly, he looked up and his azure-colored eyes, as richly blue as the ocean water, met hers and shiver went down her spine. With a stiff nod, he began walking briskly towards her and she caught a glimpse of his chiseled angular features in the glimmer of the sunlight. As he approached her, his alluring eyes looking straight into hers, he asked,
“Pardon me for bothering you madam, but are you Miss Marie Patterson?”
That was the first time when she heard him speak. His voice was manly and genial, dripping with warmth. Taking a grip over her alarmingly moved nerves, she nodded pleasantly towards him. Marie observed that his lips curved into a most enchanting smile as he offered her his arm, saying,
“Miss Patterson, I am most delightful to meet you! Shall you accompany me to a nearby inn for midday supper, Madam?”
“Most certainly, Mr. Andrews,” replied Marie, feeling the heat of his intense eyes upon her as she continued to flush. As she took his hand, the warmth of his skin scorched her chilled blood. He looked at her alarmingly.
“Dear God, you’re freezing!”
Instantly, he took off his cape and gently placed it upon her shoulders, the thick fabric warming her immensely.
“I hope that would suffice for the walk?” he inq
uired.
Marie nodded back dreamily; she was certainly too lost for any words.
FOUR
As Marie and Mr. Andrews began marching off towards the inn, Marie remained silent during the whole journey, merely smiling towards his remarks now and then. However, Mr. Andrews’s cheerful nature began drawing upon her and she started feeling refreshed. As he continued to talk about his daily operations, looking here and there, she continued to grasp the tiny details of his face as if they would melt away in seconds; he was certainly very handsome.
“The Amante’s Refuge, ma’am,” he said, reading aloud the inn’s name.
Together, they entered the inn and after booking them a table, Mr. Andrews seated himself across at a small deal table next to the window. A gust of wind blew in disheveling Mr. Andrews’s hair and Marie could feel her cheeks coloring.
“Miss Patterson, you look stunningly beautiful,” he said, looking at her with clear, intent eyes.
Marie felt deeply moved. No one, not even her parents had ever remarked upon her beauty with such geniality nor had she ever expected such a handsome, affluent man as Mr. Andrews to call her ‘stunningly beautiful.’ This has to be a dream, Marie tried to tell herself but when she looked up to meet his intense gaze awaiting a reply, she recovered herself and managed to stutter,
“W-well. Thank you very much, Mr. Andrews.
“Miss Patterson, I do not know whether you adore poetry as I do, but you reminded me of Wordsworth verses the moment my eyes rested upon you:
She was a phantom of delight when first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent to be a moment's rnament.”
Marie’s face glowed like pure sunshine, like it never had before, the moment those syllables brushed against her ears. She could not believe he loved poetry too. Just like her.
“Oh, Mr. Andrews, it is lovely!” she said with absolute delight.
And so, they began talking about poetry drifting from Tennyson, Browning, Robert Frost to finally Dickens and other various classical authors. Mr. Andrews was certainly delighted to be acquainted with a person who shared his most intense interest- literature. In the same way, Marie had never felt so light before, as she poured out her heart when she spoke to him about the close attachment she had formed with these books and their characters overtime.
The evening grew and time passed without their slightest knowledge. When Mr. Andrews got up to order some sandwiches, cake and refreshments, Marie observed that had indeed gotten late. The deep-orange sky had turned into velvety blue and a wan moon peered out through a pair of dark, sullen clouds. After they had done eating, Mr. Andrews turned towards Marie, his clear blue eyes, gazing deep into her glassy grey ones.
“Miss Patterson, my acquaintance with you today has been quite enchanting. Never have I ever met a woman so beautiful and yet at the same time so sensible with words. I think my utmost affection for you, even after just our first meeting, is quite evident. Marie Patterson,” he continued, looking straight into her eyes and she could feel the redness crawling up her cheeks, “will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Marie was dumb-struck. She could not believe that though she had been furtively waiting for this special moment the whole time, she had never thought that it actually would. Some small inner part of her was reeling with amazement. She had never imagined she had the power to make someone else so happy. Returning his gaze, she replied,
“Yes, I will marry you, Charles Andrews. Yes.”
“Oh, thank God”, he said, exhaling. “Miss Patterson, I have something very special for you.” Putting his hands in his pockets, Mr. Andrews withdrew a narrow silver box with a gold lace running across it. He held it out to her as he opened it.
“This was my mother’s pendant. I want you to have it.”
As Marie looked at the pendant taking it from his hand, she could not help but admire the amazing finesse with which it was wrought. It was an azure, oval-shaped stone with thin threads of silver entangling across it, encompassing it. It slipped around her neck on a gold chain, as cool as water, and rested in the hollow of her throat. As she wrapped it around her neck, she saw the intent in his eyes light to an almost unbearable blaze of disbelieving happiness. She felt as if someone had reached inside her chest and unlocked a box that held her heart, spilling tenderness like new blood through her veins.
“It is beautiful. Thank you, Mr. Andrews.”
“I’m so glad you like it,” he replied, his face shining with elation, “now, shall talk about the engagement date?”
After mutual consent, Marie and Charles decided to set their wedding date on the coming Wednesday as both of them did not have the heart to delay things any further. After carefully seating Marie in a train carriage, Mr. Andrews bid her farewell only to meet her six days later.
FIVE
Marie impatiently waited for Charles at the Kansas Railway Station, her hands clasped around the handle of a suitcase, containing the small load of her personal belongings. Charles had written to her, telling her to pack her stuff and await him at the station. It had been six days only since their meeting and Marie’s heart was already aching for a glimpse of him. And, then…she saw him. He was attired in a black frock coat, his manner extremely gentle as he made his way through the throng of people as he tried to search for me.
Marie opened her mouth to call to him and immediately realized how much unladylike that would seem especially, keeping in mind the fact that he was such a gentleman. After a few minutes or so, Charles found her and offering her arm, took her out towards the pavement where an enchanting carriage met her eyes. It was a medium-sized, gilt-colored carriage with huge round wheels and two pearly white horses in the front, vigorously shaking their tails. Charles helped her in and sitting beside her, he waved his hand to the coachman to commence driving.
Marie opened the window and allowed fresh, icy air to blow in. Her opened with a jolt as if someone had slapped her hard across the cheek. Charles, immediately noticing the reddening of her cheeks, voiced out his concern,
“Are you cold?”
Marie instantly closed her blue petticoat around her and pinning it with a brooch, she mumbled a no to him and continued staring out of the window. Her fever had bothered her the night before and so, her spirits were quite dull at the present, which was obviously noticed by Charles as nothing escaped his piercing, blue eyes.
“Is everything alright? Marie?”
As he said out her Christian name for the first time, a shiver ran through her blood. But this was an odd kind of shiver, not the one which makes your heart tremble but one that spreads a feeling of warmth in it causing it to beat faster. It made Marie’s lips curve into a smile as she replied,
“No, Charles. I’m quite alright”
Feeling elated, Charles replied merrily,
“Well, that is good because do you know where are we headed? The Andrews Manor.”
Marie smiled back, “Well, that is most delightful.”
A few hours later, Marie, as they drove along, found herself dreamily gazing upon the first appearance of The Andrews Woods, as Charles called it, with some perturbation; and when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter.
The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent.
Marie’s mind was full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by The Andrews Manor, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; - and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither forma
l, nor falsely adorned. Marie was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. She was warm in her admiration; and at that moment she felt how enchanting it would feel to be mistress of this huge mansion!
They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door, and, she continued to examine the nearer aspect of the house. Charles helped her out of the carriage gently and taking her arm, he accompanied her to the hall, after motioning the coachmen to transfer Marie’s suitcase to her room. As they entered through the huge, massive brass doors, Marie noticed that a middle-aged woman, whom she assumed to be the housekeeper, awaited them.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Gosling, was a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her. They followed her into the dining-parlor. It was a large, well-proportioned room, handsomely fitted up. Marie, after slightly surveying it, went to a window to enjoy its prospect. The hill, crowned with wood, from which they had descended, receiving increased abruptness from the distance, was a beautiful object. Every disposition of the ground was good; and she looked on the whole scene- the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it- with delight. As they passed into other rooms, these objects were taking different positions; but from every window these were beauties to be seen. The rooms were lofty and handsome, and their furniture suitable to the fortune of their proprietor; but Marie saw, with admiration of his taste, that it was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendor, and more real elegance.
Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set Page 33