Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  Then, Charles, waking her from her thoughts, tapped her shoulder gently.

  “Marie, follow me. I have to show you something.”

  Completely, startled by his request as what more was there to show her, but curious all the same, Marie followed him through long, never-ending corridors and finally reaching the desired destination, Charles stopped, flashed a mysterious yet enchanting smile towards her, swung the door and holding it by the handle, motioned her to enter. As she stepped in, she felt as if she had entered a heavenly dream. A huge room, running meters and meters, met her eyes. Furniture that outdid the one she had been admiring moments earlier occupied this imaginary place. In the middle of the room, sat a magnificent, enormous bed with crimson-colored silk curtains drooping from its sides, perfectly settled in layers.

  However, the real heaven slept upon the satin bed sheet that was laid upon the mattress – a pearly white dress with a narrow bodice and a huge train on which were planted small silvery flowers which kept on sparkling under the light, as if smirking towards her lucky fate. Marie could not believe this. She turned on her heels, facing Charles who was standing with his back resting against the glass table, his legs overlapping each other, her eyes speaking utter surprise.

  “So, do you like it?” He asked her intently, observing her earnestly from a distance.

  “Like it? I love it! Charles, how could you spend so much money on just my wedding dress?” Marie replied, clearly astounded.

  “Dear Marie, this is not just any wedding, this is our wedding,” he said the word ‘our’ with such emphasis that it made Marie flush, “and it might be evident by the preparations,” he waved his hand around the room at the white roses that clung to the walls and ceiling, “that I await it eagerly.”

  SIX

  Two days had passed since their wedding day. Marie could easily reminisce the glitter in Charles eyes and the elation that dripped from the corners of his lips as they had been curved into a most enchanting smile all day, while he introduced his beautiful bride, to all his relatives and friends. Nor could Marie forget the beauty parlor where he had hired the most expensive beauticians to dress her for the event. She had to agree that they had been the most flawless at their work. Marie had never found herself so beautiful before as she did that evening, when she slowly gaped at herself in the mirror. Her crimson hair, which Charles had characterized as the most stunning shade, had been tied up into a huge bun with small pearly pins. Small strands of curly hair would hug her cheek every now and then. The dress had been stitched in such a way that it was tight around her bodice but as it continued downwards, it increased in volume finally ending in a dazzling train of pearls.

  Marie couldn’t possibly forget the way Charles had looked that evening, completely blowing her senses away. In his black and white evening suit, he looked more beautiful than she had imagined. The stark and simple colors brought out the angular perfection of his features. His dark hair tumbled over his forehead and his eyes looked as if a small part of the night sky had dropped into them. The moment her eyes had caught a glimpse of him, she felt her heartbeat so fast as if it would burst.

  Marie was lying on the soft bed of her room, the satin bed sheets brushing against her back and compelling her to melt herself into them. As snips of the evening flashed before her memory, she involuntarily began to smile. Who would’ve thought that she, Marie Patterson, would be able to wind her way from that small cabin-shaped house into this enormous mansion, bigger than any normal person’s wildest imaginations? She certainly had not. Maybe God had decided to reward her miserable life with this blissful fate.

  Charles had left early in the morning for work and would be returning in the evening.

  As Marie began to get ready for breakfast, a familiar aching began to possess her head. The yellow fever, she thought, shaking with utmost fear. As she looked about her uneasily, she realized that the fever had never pained to such a saturated extent before.

  Suddenly, with a slight knock upon the door, her maid, Sophie, entered with silver tray laid with breakfast. Noticing the agony smeared across Marie’s face, Sophie immediately set the tray aside and swiftly walked towards her and was by her side upon the bed with her hands resting upon Marie’s forehead.

  “Miss, you seem to have a very high fever. Should I ring for Mrs. Gosling?” Sophie whispered in her ears, her voice shaking with alarm.

  Marie clasped Sophie’s hands gently, her knuckles turning a snowy white as she tried to force out the words,

  “Sophie, tell Mrs. Gosling to call for Charles. I’m afraid I’m feeling extremely ill and cannot rely on mere home remedies.”

  “Master Andrews, Miss?” Sophie, observing the paleness that had begun to creep up her mistress’s face stiffly nodded, “Very well, I shall do so instantly.” And with that she promptly got up and left the room.

  Meanwhile, Marie continued to moan with pain. It felt as if someone was sucking the breath out of her lungs every growing second. She thought perhaps, this time she was going to die.

  After what seemed like an eternity of agony, Marie closed her eyelids shut, allowing her soul to melt and finally fade away when she heard someone rushing into the room. With the trifle strength that had remained in her, Marie managed to force open her eyes and glance towards the door. Screwing her eyes, she realized that it was her Charles. The drowsiness that enthralled her head no longer allowed her to be aware of her surroundings and though she could hear some faint murmurings around her, the voices ringing with apprehension, she could only guess what was happening.

  Some moments later, she felt a piercing pain at the back of her hand as a needle punctured her skin, drinking her blood. She knew not what happened as she was engulfed into complete darkness.

  Consciousness came and went in a hypnotic rhythm, like the sea appearing and disappearing on the deck of a boat in a storm. Marie knew she lay in a bed in a room; and that there were windows high over her letting in shadows and then the bloody light of dawn. She closed her eyes against it, and the darkness came again.

  She woke to whispering voices, and a familiar, anxious face hovering over her. Charles’ hair was damp and curled near the temple. She could her Sophie whispering at his ear,

  “Master Andrews, will Miss be alright?” The carefulness in her honey-sweet voice was achingly heartbreaking.

  “Her fever is extremely potent though I’m confident that she will be quite alright after a few more doses of medicine,” said Charles, running his fingers through his wife’s hair.

  The darkness returned and Marie fell into it, grateful for the respite from light and thought. She wrapped herself in it like a blanket and let herself float, like the icebergs off the coast of Labrador, cradled in the moonlight by icy black water.

  When Marie woke again, it was dark. Faint starlight streamed through the high windows of her room, and there was a candle burning faintly on the table near her bed. Beside it were a box of medicine, a glass of hot milk with steam rising from it, and a small plate of biscuits. She rose to a sitting position, about to reach for the glass when she froze.

  A dark figure was seated on the bed besides hers. As she focused her eyes under the dim light, she realized it was Charles and her chest relaxed. He was wearing a loose shirt and trousers. His skin was pale in the starlight. Out of sleeplessness, dark shadows formed under his lower lids, but even the light’s dimness could not wash out the blue of his eyes.

  “Charles,” she said, startled, “what are you doing awake?” Had he been watching her sleep, she wondered? Just the thought of it comforted her.

  “I brought you some warm milk to strengthen you, hoping that you would be awake by now,” he said in a concerned tone, “but you sounded as if you were having a nightmare. How do you feel now?”

  “Oh, Charles, you don’t have the slightest idea how much I’m grateful for having you. If it had not been for you, I would have probably died. I knew that marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made, knowing that you could
care of me and cure my fever.” As honest words poured out right from her heart, she observed that a sea of hurt flashed across Charles face under the dancing bright flames. With a clear gulping sound, he managed to stutter,

  “I—is that w—why you married me? Just because I’m a physician?” His voice rang with utmost anguish.

  Marie heavily regretted saying those words though she knew that this was not what she had meant. Charles had clearly misunderstood. How could he possibly think that she was that selfish? She loved him. Even now, when she stole a glance of his hurtful face, she could feel her heart ramming against her ribs. Looking at those deep blue eyes holding a torrent of pain made her curl against his arm resting beside her, her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. She felt him jerk with surprise.

  “Don’t you ever think that way again, Charles. I love you beyond anything else in this world, even more than my own self.”

  His arms went around her, and he held her; she rested her cheek against the warm juncture of his neck and shoulder. She heard the echo of his pulse and smelled the scent of him, sweat and soap.

  “I promise I won’t,” he said firmly, with warmth in his careful tone.

  Marie felt warm and soft. The bed rolled under her like a boat adrift on the sea. She closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.

  SEVEN

  Two weeks had passed since Marie’s illness and thanks to Charles’s careful nursing, she had regained her health slowly and gradually. Things had never been happier for Marie. She would often roam around the huge parks, singing and dancing. The fresh air helped her regain her health faster. She even looked more refreshed and it warmed Charles’s heart to see her so merry. However, little did Charles know that these times would be so short-lived.

  One evening in September, Charles returned home extremely furious. Seeing Master Andrews in such a rage was so rare that the house servants, alarmed by his drastic change of attitude, gathered the courage to inquire the reason behind such immense anger. Charles gently shook his head in their direction and hurriedly went into his room.

  As soon as he entered the room, Marie approached him swiftly as he perched himself on the far corner of the bed. She gently laid her hand upon his shoulder, tracing his muscles which seemed to calm Charles’s spirits down.

  “What happened, Charles? Did you have a fight today?” Marie inquired, knowing that it was impossible for such a genuine man as Charles to enter into an argument with anyone. Yet her instincts told her that quite unbelievably, today he had.

  As soon as those words escaped Marie’s lips, Charles sat bolt upright. This sudden shock seemed to surprise Marie as quite clearly, she had had not asked him something very strange that would result in such a reaction.

  “It always interests me how you always know,” he turned to look intently at her, “how you seem to predict everything by just looking at me. I have never heard of a woman possessing such an unusual power before,” he chuckled. “Yes, you’re quite right. I did have a fight today, with my senior doctor —”

  “Dr. Philip Robinson.” said Marie, remembering his brief introduction in the Matrimonial News.

  “Yes,” replied Charles, yet again surprised over the vast amount of knowledge she knew even when he had no memory of ever telling her, “He’s a former military physician and I was working under his apprenticeship, that is to say until this evening.”

  “So, do you mean to say that you’ve resigned?” Marie asked with disbelief at such a foolish decision.

  “Mr. Robinson, you see is a very wealthy man, a great leap more than me as he has been serving the military for thirty years coupled with the vast amount of money he inherited from his father. His immense wealth, unlike mine, has made him an extremely arrogant man, one who is horribly brutal to the needy and poor and treats them as if they weren’t even human. I’ve been withstanding his harsh attitude for five years, every day trying to ignore him and secretly catering the poor people whenever I got the chance.

  But today I couldn’t stand it anymore. When he kicked aside a young boy, nearly five years old, begging at his feet to be cured of his illness that was eating him way, causing him immense agony, I realized I couldn’t hold back my patience no longer. And so I shouted at him for his ruthless behavior in front of all the senior doctors.

  My shouting did not seem to have even a trifle effect upon him. So I told him that I resign and that I would no longer work in his hospital. With that, I burst out of the room, his hysterical laugh mocking me as he called out ‘Then, where shall you go, young Andrews?’ I ignored him then but now that I ponder over it, Marie, I actually do wonder, where shall I go?” As he looked at her with beseeching eyes, Marie felt her heart contract.

  She had listened to her husband’s tale patiently and attentively, grabbing on to every tiny detail and towards the end of it, had realized that his resignation had been absolutely justified. Even she would have done the same against that devilish man. The conceit of affluent men had always shocked and pained her at the same time. Didn’t they realize that all the wealth that they had had been provided to them by God? And if He wanted to, He could strip it away from them in just a whiplash and then they would become exactly like those poverty-stricken, penniless people. Then wouldn’t they do the same thing; beg at other people’s feet for aid? How would they feel when they, in the very same way, would be kicked aside like mere garbage? Their horrendous attitude made her wince.

  “Dear Charles,” she said tenderly, caressing his soft, dark hair, “do not be alarmed. I suggest that we open our own clinic. A clinic that is affordable to even the poor. I assure you with all my heart,” she looked deeply into his ocean-blue eyes, “that God knows that your intention is absolutely pure and will surely help you along the way. Trust me, it will definitely prosper.”

  There was something very powerful in her voice, Charles thought. It always seemed so convincingly. It felt as if it was impossible not to agree to her advices when she poured them out in such intense words under the spell of a deeply assuasive tone.

  EIGHT

  The Charles Andrews clinic, just as Marie had assured, did prosper even more than their expectations. Since Charles’s affability was known by all, when the news that his own clinic was affordable to each person, it spread across the town like wild fire. People knew him as the well-trained apprentice of a famous doctor. Soon, more and more people poured into his clinic every day and within just one month, Charles began to earn even more than he used to before.

  Meanwhile, Marie continued to aid her husband in every other way in running the clinic as she could. Everyone in town was happy with the new clinic, except for one atrocious man—Mr. Philip Robinson.

  As soon as the news of the new clinic reaching Dr. Robinson, he had waved the notion aside, laughing at the very idea, and had promised his employees that it would surely be closed within only a few weeks. Much to his surprise, the complete opposite had happened.

  In just one month, the Charles Andrews Clinic had gained more success than he could possibly fathom and was gaining more popularity with every growing day. A serpent of envy began to wrap around Robinson’s heart. He feared that if Andrews’s clinic continued achieving success at such a fast pace, a great threat would be posed towards his own hospital and so, it was absolutely necessary to deal with this problem as soon as he could. Philip Robinson, the blood son of Satan himself, began plotting a most obnoxious scheme to bring about the downfall of his junior, Charles Andrews.

  One windy evening, Charles Andrews stood in the doorway of his house, bidding adieu to her wife as she sat upon a nearby chair watching him leave. Charles could not stop himself from admiring the beautiful hair of his wife as they fell upon her chest in heavy, perfect curls. He intently watched the soft strands brush against her cheek as the searing wind from the grounds whispered through them.

  “Marie,” he said softly, “a young woman is pregnant in the nearby neighborhood and is about to give birth which is why she has called for me. It
will only take a few hours,” he said, kissing his fingers against her chin to convince her gently, “I promise I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  As he kissed his wife good-bye, he rushed out of the gate as the sun was setting, leaving Marie to wait for him alone. This was the first time Charles had left home at night and she knew that there was obviously nothing to be afraid. It was just that most of the servants had asked her permission to visit their families the following day, and she had allowed them because she had been unable to foresee Charles being called away at night. To top it all, Mrs. Gosling had fallen ill and so she had been forced to dismiss her and was thus absolutely alone in this huge mansion. If Marie claimed that she was not scared then it would have been an outright lie as with every growing minute, she could feel her heart sinking.

  Having decided to have a short rest until her husband returned, she got up and began walking towards her room. Just as she was about to open the door, a weird smell entered her nostrils. Sniffing intensely, she realized it was smoke. Heavily alarmed, Marie immediately began to move towards the source. As she stepped into the grounds, she was horrified. Blazing fire engulfed the mansion from three sides. She saw a man running towards the south. Swiftly, she reached him and found that he was shocked to realize that she was in the house.

  “Mr. Philip—”,she panted, clearly out of breath due running, “hired me to burn Mr. Andrews’s house. He wanted to warn him through this message that he should shut down his clinic or worse things would happen. But I-I had no idea that you were in the house. I saw Mr. Andrews leaving and assumed that you would have left too.”