“And what time would you consider better? We’re here now, conversing, getting to know one another. I say the time is perfect.”
“All right.” Hope stood and walked over to the pianoforte, wiping her clammy hands on the skirt of her dress as she went. She was suddenly nervous. What if her fingers were too stiff? What if she forgot the notes?
She sat down on the bench and flexed her fingers. What should she play? A million ideas raced through her mind, but only one song was clear enough in her memory to withstand her nerves. She timidly began the opening notes of Für Elise.
After stumbling through the piece, she resumed her seat, her cheeks red. She had made so many mistakes, her piano teacher would have been furious.
“Rather a predictable choice of music,” Mr. Edwards said. “I believe every piano student for the last thirty years has had that emblazoned upon their brains.”
“I would have chosen something less rote, but I’m afraid that was the only piece I could remember,” Hope confessed.
“I trust you’ll take the opportunity of practicing more now that you have a fine instrument at your disposal,” Mr. Edwards said. “Especially as you’ll be teaching Addie.”
Hope wanted to give a rebuttal, but what could she say? She knew she generally played with more skill, but after that performance, she would not be able to convince him of it. She could only show him, and that could only happen after she had, indeed, practiced.
Up until now, he had been examining her. She decided it was time to learn more about him. “Come now, sir. I’ve told you what there is to know about me and shown you my less-than-stellar accomplishments. Now tell me about yourself. And if you play the pianoforte, I expect to hear it.”
Mr. Edwards picked up the nearby decanter and refilled his goblet. She wondered just what he was drinking, how often he drank, and if it was liable to become an issue in their marriage. “I do not play the pianoforte, or any other instrument. Consider yourself spared the torture that would be my performance. I’ve lived here at Hazelbrook my entire life, having been born here. I work as a merchant, and I travel a great deal on business. I’m often gone a month at a time. Addie is the daughter of a friend who passed away unexpectedly with no close relatives to ease her burden. I’m a man haunted by shadows, often given to turns of melancholy and dark temper. I caution you not to trust me too implicitly, nor to doubt me too entirely. And that is the extent of it.” He sat back and contemplated her. “Do you think me handsome?”
Hope contemplated him in return. That was certainly a forthright question, and said much about his character. Did she think he was handsome? He had dark, unruly hair, equally dark brows and eyes, a clean-shaven jaw, and his shoulders were broad. None of this was out of the ordinary or particularly attractive in any way, and again, she felt compelled to be honest. “No, sir.”
He smiled. “Right you are, Miss Middleton. I thank you for not pandering to me with your words.”
“I never pander, sir. I consider it lying, and I detest lying.” Her aunt had often accused her of being deceitful. That had never been the case, and it never would be.
Mr. Edwards nodded again. “An admirable quality. Now, Miss Middleton, you look as though you have something you would say to me. What might it be?”
“I wondered, sir, when we are to be married.”
“Ah, that’s right. The wedding.” He reached over, picked up a cigar that rested on the small table next to the decanter, and lit it. Once it was getting a proper draw, he replied, “I thought it best if we waited a short time to see if you like it here before we are wed. I was not in favor of seeking out a mail-order bride—that was all Mrs. Green’s doing. I fear it would be a disservice to both of us to rush into a marriage without knowing each other’s true character. My room is at the opposite end of the house and Mrs. Green is vigilant, so you can rest assured that every propriety will be maintained. Are you in agreement?”
Hope was taken aback. She had reconciled herself to the idea of getting married as soon as she arrived, but in her heart of hearts, that wasn’t what she wanted. She too would like to wait and see how she felt after a short time. “That is very agreeable to me, sir.”
“Very well, then. That is what we will do. In the meantime, please continue to work with Addie. You might find some talents in there after all. My guess is that if anyone can do it, it will be you. Good night, and we shall speak again tomorrow.”
Having been dismissed, Hope made her way up to her room and found her dinner on a tray near the fireplace. That suited her well—after such an odd interview, it would have been uncomfortable to sit across from Mr. Edwards for a meal. Would every conversation be so strange? She certainly hoped not.
Chapter Five
Hope was awakened by an unusual sound, a rattling at her knob as though someone was trying to get into her room. She had always locked her bedroom door while living at the boardinghouse, and had locked it here as well out of habit. If it was Mrs. Green or Addie, wouldn’t they have knocked rather than trying to open the door unannounced?
She stood and pulled on her robe, then lit the candle next to her bed. When she opened the door and peered into the hallway, she saw no one standing there waiting for her, but she heard that laughter again, a curious sound to hear in the middle of the night. Why was Ann allowed to be so disruptive? If no one else would speak to her about it, Hope would. As the future mistress of the house, she had that right. She walked down the hall toward the sound.
The laughter stopped, but now Hope smelled something odd. She picked up her pace, hastening toward the smell. It seemed to be coming from beneath a door at the very end of the hallway. She threw it open to find a bed with all four posters in flames. Mr. Edwards lay in the center of that bed, sound asleep.
“Mr. Edwards!” she called out, running over to the bed and shaking his shoulder. “Mr. Edwards, wake up!”
He didn’t respond right away. She turned to his washstand and grabbed up the pitcher, tossing the water onto the flame nearest Mr. Edwards. “Sir, wake up!”
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Miss Middleton, what on earth . . .” Then his eyes grew wide as he caught sight of the fire. He leaped out of the bed and grabbed the coverlet, using it to smother the flames that crept up the curtains on the posts of his bed. Hope did what she could to smother the flames on the other side with a coat she found draped over a chair.
Moments later, nothing of the fire remained but remnants of smoke and ash. Hope was shaking, her resolve having turned to fear upon realizing what might have happened. Mr. Edwards pulled another blanket from his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, then led her to the chair.
“Tell me everything,” he said.
She swallowed. “I was asleep, but heard my doorknob rattle, so I went out into the hallway to see what it was. I followed the sound of laughter and then the smell of smoke to your room. You wouldn’t awaken, sir, and for a moment, I thought perhaps you were already dead.”
Mr. Edwards grimaced. “I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Let that be a lesson to me.” He picked up a robe that had been left carelessly on the floor and belted it around his waist after putting it on. “Remain here. I’ll be back shortly. Don’t make a sound.”
Hope stayed where she had been put, and after a few moments, her shaking subsided. What had caused the fire? Had Mr. Edwards been smoking and fallen asleep with a lit cigar in his hand? No, surely not. If that had been the case, the flames would have been much closer to him, and instead, they were licking up the curtains at the foot of his bed.
She tried to reason it through, but she was so tired, none of her thoughts made sense. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, thinking she would rest for just a moment. The next thing she knew, Mr. Edwards was shaking her shoulder.
“Wake up, Miss Middleton.”
She opened her eyes and blinked. A glance at the clock on the mantel told her she’d been asleep for an hour. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“It is
now, but you must get back to bed. I’ll make some sort of excuse for what happened here tonight, and you must never speak of it. Do you understand?”
Hope blinked. “But sir, I—”
“Never speak of it. It’s as though it did not happen. Please, Miss Middleton?”
His tone was an odd mixture of commanding and pleading. She nodded, still not understanding why the need for secrecy. He had nearly been burnt in his bed—that was hardly a small thing. But even though she didn’t comprehend the need for it, she could keep his confidence.
“Very good. Now off to bed with you. It’s cold tonight.”
“It is.” She slid out of the blanket and moved to leave the room, but he held out his hand.
“Would you leave me like this, then?”
“I’m sorry, sir?”
He reached out and took her fingers in his. They were callused, but warm and gentle. “You’ve just saved my life. Another few minutes, and I would have been killed. I owe you my life, Miss Middleton. At least clasp hands with me, and let’s part as something more than we were before.”
She smiled faintly, still sobered by the night’s events, but eager to start building a relationship with this man she would most likely marry. “There is no life debt, sir. You owe me nothing.”
“Ah, but I believe I do.” He gave her hand another squeeze. “Now goodnight. We have but a few hours until dawn.”
Hope nodded and returned to her room, sliding between her sheets and pulling the blankets up to her chin. She was more confused than she had ever been in her life, but at the same time, the warmth of Mr. Edwards’ hand lingered with her. He had looked at her with something like real admiration, and that was the thought she carried with her into sleep.
Chapter Six
Hope dressed quickly the next morning and hurried down the stairs, eager to find Mr. Edwards and ask him to set a date for the wedding. She didn’t need any more time to decide if she would like it here—nearly losing him the night before had made everything clear for her. She would be very happy at Hazelbrook, and she couldn’t wait to begin her married life. But he wasn’t at the breakfast table, so she and Addie ate alone, and when she asked Mrs. Green about it, the housekeeper shook her head.
“He left first thing this morning. Ate hardly a bite of breakfast, he was in such a hurry. Left his bedroom in a frightful state. Said he was up late reading by candlelight and caught his bed curtains on fire.” She shook her head again. “I’ll order a new set, but those won’t be in for weeks. And his rug smells of smoke—I’ll be surprised if we don’t have to replace it as well.”
Hope wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “He left? When will he be back?”
“Oh, we never know with him. He could be gone a week—he could be gone a month.”
Suddenly dizzy, Hope reached out and steadied herself on the counter. “I see. I’ll go begin Addie’s studies.”
How could Mr. Edwards leave so suddenly, especially after everything that had happened the night before? She couldn’t understand it. If he didn’t want a wife, why had he agreed to send for a bride? And how could he clasp her hand like he did and look into her eyes, and then leave the next morning without uttering one word to her? Was this how all men behaved? If so, she was not impressed with the gender at all.
***
For the next three weeks, Hope poured herself into Addie’s schooling. The girl was filled with questions, and Hope was more than happy to answer them. It gave her another focus besides her own melancholy thoughts. They talked about geography and the cultures of the world, aided by the vast assortment of books on the shelves. Hope found pictures of the costumes worn by people in faraway lands, and she and Addie painted them. The child was not proficient with a paintbrush by any means, but she showed improvement daily.
“Did you learn to draw at school?” Addie asked one afternoon as she rinsed out her paintbrush.
“I began drawing when I was a very small girl, about seven years old,” Hope replied. “I was living with my aunt, and there was a great library in the house filled with books. I would study the pictures in those books and try to imitate them.” A sudden memory filled her mind. Her cousin had found her in that library poring over a book filled with pictures of flowers. He had picked up the book, struck her across the face with it, and commanded her never to look at it again. Then he ripped a page from the book and showed it to his mother, blaming Hope for it. She had been punished severely.
She shook the memory from her mind and smiled at Addie. “But yes, there was an art teacher at school, and she helped me quite a bit.”
“I think you’re a wonderful artist.” Addie put away the brushes and paints, then sat down at Hope’s feet. “I wonder what I should like to be when I grow up. I might try becoming a mail-order bride.”
Hope chuckled. “Why would you want to do that?”
“It brought you here to us.” Addie turned and looked up at Hope. “Aren’t you glad you did it?”
Hope wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that question. She’d come to a beautiful home and met a fascinating man, but he had left without a word, and she was no more a bride than she had been a month before. “I’m very glad to be here,” she answered after a moment. “Now, what would you like to do with the rest of the afternoon?”
“Battledore and shuttlecock?” Addie pleaded, her eyes begging.
Hope agreed with a great deal of reluctance, and they went outside.
Each day after she finished with Addie, Hope wandered the property, traipsing through the trees. Some days, frost covered the leaves, making everything look like a misty fairyland. She loved these hours she spent alone. Her mind was free to wander just as her feet did, and she imagined she saw wood sprites hiding behind the branches and water spirits drinking the water droplets that formed when the sun peeked out and melted the frost. She tried to replicate these thoughts in her sketchbook, but they never came out on paper quite like she envisioned them. Would she never have the skill she wanted?
The subject she tried to draw most often was Mr. Edwards, but she could never get his eyes right. She didn’t know him well enough to understand all his moods, so there was always something missing from the depiction. That didn’t keep her from trying, though, and sheet after sheet became filled with her attempts. She’d need a new sketchbook soon.
One afternoon shortly before Thanksgiving, Mrs. Green rushed into the schoolroom. “I’ve just received a telegram. He’s coming. Mr. Edwards will be here day after tomorrow. We must get the house in readiness—he’s bringing several of his business associates with him for the holiday.”
Hope rose to her feet, her heart pounding. “But you always keep the house in readiness, Mrs. Green.”
The housekeeper waved a hand. “Still, we must hurry. He wants to put on a respectable display for his guests. And as for you . . .” She paused and looked at Hope critically. “Don’t you have a dress for dinner?”
Hope looked down at what she was wearing. She’d thought this pink muslin rather nice when she bought it, but it clearly wasn’t suitable for meeting Mr. Edwards’ friends. “I’m afraid I don’t. I still have money left from the clothing allowance I was sent, though.”
Mrs. Green tsked. “I’ll call for a seamstress at once. You’ll need something that speaks to your station—not as Addie’s governess, but as Mr. Edwards’ intended.”
Hope had never worn anything made especially for her by an actual seamstress. She felt almost shy about it, but brushed the thought aside. She needed a gown—that was clear.
When the woman arrived that afternoon, Hope allowed Addie to sit nearby. The girl lent Hope some emotional courage she felt she needed.
“Oh, my. Aren’t you a pretty creature?” the seamstress said, walking around Hope and looking at her from every angle. The close scrutiny made Hope uncomfortable, but she knew that without it, she’d never have a dress that fit properly. “Let’s see. I have just the thing.” The woman rummaged around in her bag until she came up
with a sample of satin in a rich peacock blue. “This would look beautiful with your coloring. Yes, I do believe it’s perfect.”
Addie clapped her hands. “Oh, yes, Hope. Choose the blue.”
Hope fingered the sample, amazed at the texture. “I’ve never touched anything so nice.”
“Well, imagine how it will feel against your skin. I can hardly wait to get started.” The seamstress pulled out her measuring tape and determined Hope’s size, then packed everything up. “I understand you need this immediately, so I’ll get to work on it right away. I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon for a fitting, if that suits.”
“It does,” Hope replied.
After the woman left, Addie leaped up, grasped Hope’s hands, and spun with her around the room. “You’re going to look like a princess!” she said. “Uncle Edwards will marry you the minute he sees you!”
“Oh?” Hope wished it could be so, but pushed the thought away so she wouldn’t get caught up in it. “And what will you wear?”
“I have lots of pretty dresses. You must help me choose.” Addie led Hope to her bedroom and over to her wardrobe, where she pulled out dress after dress.
“These are all so beautiful,” Hope said, stroking the fine material. “Which do you like best?”
“I like this one and this one and this one.” Addie pointed them out with her index finger.
“Come now—remember your manners. Pointing is considered rude in many cultures. Remember when we talked about that?”
“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry.” Addie seemed to contemplate for a moment. “I like this one and this one and this one.” This time, she indicated by touching the sleeves of each dress.
“Much better. Now, which do you want to wear?”
***
Lessons were done for the day, and Hope had sent Addie off to play while she went for a walk. She’d already taken Addie outside earlier, and now she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
The garden that ran perpendicular to the house was one of her favorites. She imagined what it would be like in spring, a riot of color. Now the gardeners were kept busy raking up the leaves and preparing the ground for winter. She sat on one of the stone benches that lined the path and gazed up at the gray sky, wondering whether it held rain or snow. She’d only seen the sun a few times since arriving, and hoped that wasn’t the usual trend of the weather here.
Hope: Bride of New Jersey (American Mail-Order Brides 3) Page 4