Phebe's Promise (The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Book 16)

by Cathryn Chandler

  He looked down at his arm when he felt a hand curl around it, just above the elbow, as his sister-in-law’s soft voice floated around him. “Come along, Henry. If it’s on schedule, your fiancée’s train has arrived in Oakland, and she’ll be taking the late ferry across the bay in about an hour.”

  Chapter 4

  Phebe stood at the rail of the ferry, preferring to be outside in the cool ocean breeze rather than in the enclosed area built in the center of the boat. She tightened her hold on her woolen shawl and stared in wide-eyed wonder at the looming harbor.

  It was filled with ships, and the steep hillsides behind it were crowded with houses of all shapes and sizes, lit up against the dark night sky. There was enough bite in the air that she was practically alone on the open deck—except for Jesse, of course.

  Her self-proclaimed escort had casually picked up the bag she’d kept with her all the way from New York, then led her through the crowds descending from the train toward the baggage car. Her small trunk had looked lost among the pile of much larger pieces, and even more forlorn when Jesse had tossed it in the back of a wagon. He claimed Henry had sent it to take her and her luggage to the ferry.

  Phebe would have liked to have believed that her soon-to-be husband had been that thoughtful, but she rather doubted it. Her common sense told her it was much more likely that Caroline Frommer had made the arrangements.

  Everything had been so new, and a bit rushed, that it hadn’t occurred to her until Jesse Winthrop’s reaction to Henry’s name, that she’d never seen a word directly from him in any of the correspondence Madam Wigg had shown her. It had all come from Caroline. And the only time she’d directly mentioned Henry had been in the telegram. That realization had lowered her spirits considerably.

  What if she arrived in San Francisco and Henry had changed his mind? Or he took one look at her and was disappointed? Phebe had to blink rapidly to keep a tear from escaping and trailing down her cheek, but she couldn’t quite stop the sound of a soft sniffle, or the slight tremor to her chin.

  “It’s going to be fine, Phebe.”

  Jesse was standing next to her, leaning against the rail. The sympathy in his voice had Phebe quickly looking away. Over the long hours on the train, she’d enjoyed listening to Jesse’s stories about San Francisco, and had even come to like the man.

  He had a friendly smile and easy manner that had been a welcome relief from the stretches of boredom when she had nothing to do but get lost in her own thoughts. She really didn’t want him to think she retreated into tears at every little thing. Because she didn’t. At least, she never had before. And she wasn’t going to start now.

  Phebe lifted her chin and put a smile on her face. “The wind is bothering me a bit, but I’m enjoying my first sight of the Pacific Ocean.”

  “I’m sure you will once you see it.” Jesse chuckled when she frowned at him. “We’re only crossing the bay. The ocean’s that way.” He pointed to his left and smiled. “We should be at the wharf in thirty minutes or so. It’s a lot cooler on that side of the water. Maybe you’d like to go in and warm up a bit?”

  “I’d prefer to stay out here, if you don’t mind,” Phebe responded politely.

  When Jesse nodded, she smiled and turned her gaze back to the approaching shoreline. It seemed as if the whole bay were alive with ships. Phebe had only been to the docks in New York once, and had been astonished at the number of people rushing about, along with all the strange noises and smells. It had reminded her of the fish market she used to take a trip to once a month when it was her turn to help purchase the food for the orphanage. The memories made her smile. She supposed there wouldn’t be any fish markets near the mines up in the mountains.

  It wasn’t long before Jesse was pointing out different landmarks about the city and telling a colorful story or two. It didn’t take long for him to have her laughing and declaring she was sure he was blatantly exaggerating. Of course he solemnly promised on his mother’s grave that every word he’d said was true. It only took her one minute of questioning to discover that Jesse’s mother was quite well and thriving back home in his native Chicago.

  They were both still smiling over their silly exchange as the ferry pulled up to the docks. When Jesse waved, Phebe followed the direction of his gaze to a large group of people waving to the passengers on deck. All the nerves she’d sternly gotten under control suddenly broke loose again.

  She’d only been expecting Caroline Frommer, and hopefully Henry. She hadn’t thought she’d be meeting her future husband in front of . . . Phebe blinked and did a quick count . . . five other people. That is, if one of the three gentlemen in the group was actually Henry. She squinted, trying to get a better look, but with the distance, the dark, and the rocking of the boat, she couldn’t see any of the faces clearly. Not that it would have made a lick of difference since she had no idea what Henry looked like.

  When Jesse took her arm, Phebe let out a tiny squeak of surprise.

  “Come on, Phebe. Let’s get the introductions over with so you can be on your way to a cup of tea and a warm fire.”

  “All right.” Relieved she sounded calm enough despite the jittery waves shooting along her nerves, Phebe clutched her shawl and reticule closer to her chest and followed Jesse to the center of the boat.

  The crew was busy securing a gangplank to the dock below. Carefully maneuvering down the narrow, shaky walkway, Phebe accepted Jesse’s outstretched hand to take the last large step onto solid ground. He urged her forward toward the group waiting for them. The women—one blond like two of the men standing behind her, and the other with darker hair—were smiling at her.

  Phebe curved her lips upward even as her rising spirits sank again as she took in their fashionable dresses. Madam Wigg had said the family was well off, but somehow Phebe hadn’t expected to see silk and lace as everyday attire. Looking at them, she was sure neither woman had ever owned a plain woolen shawl, or secondhand walking shoes meant only for practical work. Phebe’s gaze lifted to their faces with a quiet sigh of resignation. Both women were very striking and would certainly turn heads wherever they went.

  Even knowing her attire should make no difference, Phebe couldn’t help feeling out of place. And if these ladies were an example of who Henry was used to having sit across from him at the supper table, he was going to be in for a big disappointment. She wouldn’t measure up well next to such elegance, obvious sophistication, and beauty.

  Bracing herself for a likely rejection as a suitable wife, Phebe drew in a breath and kept walking forward. She’d already considered this possibility during the long trip here. Even if Henry begged off, which she was now sure he would, she still intended to ask the Frommers to keep their promise to Madam Wigg and help fund the orphan school Phebe was going to start.

  With or without a husband.

  Of course, her mentor back in New York would be happy to help out if it came to that, but the head of the orphanage had many other girls who might need her assistance. That made Phebe all the more determined to do this on her own.

  It took less than five minutes to reach the group waiting on the edge of the dock. Jesse stopped and nudged Phebe forward.

  “This is Miss Phebe Wigg.” Jesse looked over at Phebe and winked. “Delivered all safe and sound. Phebe, this is most of the Frommer household.”

  Doing her best to manage a polite smile, Phebe nodded. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

  The blond woman, who looked to be about Phebe’s age, immediately stepped forward, giving Jesse a glare before linking an arm through one of Phebe’s. “I’m afraid your escort’s manners need a bit of work. If Adam had mentioned he was going to have someone accompany you during your journey, we would have arranged for a more suitable companion.” When she narrowed her eyes, Jesse only grinned at her.

  Startled by the young lady’s clear dismissal of Jesse, Phebe felt obligated to defend him. “I’m very grateful you went to the trouble to send an escort at all, and I assure you that
Jesse was a perfect gentleman.”

  “Was he? How unusual.”

  When Jesse raised an eyebrow at the woman, Phebe hastily sought to avert an argument between the two. “I apologize, but I don’t believe I heard your name?”

  With a last glare at Jesse’s suddenly triumphant look, the woman turned a warm smile on Phebe. Her blue eyes were lit with amusement.

  “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m Christa Frommer.” She inclined her head toward the dark-haired woman. “And this is Caroline Frommer, my sister-in-law. The man standing behind her giving me an annoyed look is her husband and my oldest brother, Adam.” She turned her smile on the shortest man in the group with the salt-and-pepper hair. “That’s John, who’s more family than our houseman, and his wife, Hannah is back at the house. She oversees the cooking for the family. And cleans up after Henry’s experiments along with Nellie, who’s our housekeeper. There’s also Thomas who sees to the stables. And that’s our entire happy household, except for a day maid or two.”

  She let out an infectious laugh, which had Phebe smiling in return. “And the man standing there with a red face and his hands behind his back is Henry.” Christa leaned over and whispered into Phebe’s ear, “He’s very nervous.”

  Phebe pressed her lips together so her future husband wouldn’t think she was laughing at him. Her gaze slowly shifted over the group, ending up on Henry. There was indeed a streak of red across his cheeks, and his blue eyes blinked at her from behind gold-rimmed spectacles that gave him a boyish kind of charm.

  She relaxed just a little. At least he hadn’t taken one look at her and started shaking his head. When Phebe smiled at him, his eyes widened and the color in his face heightened even more. Only after Adam Frommer’s elbow smacked him solidly in the side did Henry finally stepped forward.

  “I’m Henry Frommer, Miss Wigg. And I’m pleased to meet you.” He executed a small bow before glancing over at his sister-in-law.

  Phebe heard Caroline’s sigh before the woman reached out and patted his arm. She then turned toward Phebe.

  “As Christa said, I’m Caroline Frommer, and I’m also very happy to meet you at last, Phebe.” She stepped forward and embraced Phebe in a warm hug before moving back a little and smiling at Christa. “We’ve all been so anxious to meet you.” Caroline’s smile stayed in place as she switched her gaze back to Phebe. “I hope you don’t mind me using your first name? And that you feel comfortable enough to call me Caroline. If you say ‘Mrs. Frommer,’ who knows who might pop up?”

  Adam laughed and moved to stand by his wife. “Only you, sweetheart, since you’re the only Mrs. Frommer in the family. At least at the moment.” He smiled at Phebe. “Welcome to San Francisco, Phebe. I hope you found the trip tolerable.”

  “Since she’s here and appears none the worse for wear, I’d say she tolerated it just fine.” Christa snorted. She tugged on Phebe’s arm. “Jesse can see to your trunk while we get settled into the carriage.”

  “Why, Jesse—who, I’d like to point out, is standing right here in front of you—would be happy to do that,” Phebe’s tall green-eyed escort muttered.

  Christa ignored him as she steered Phebe toward a grand-looking conveyance on the far side of the dock. “I can’t wait to hear all about you and the school you’ll be starting. Adam found an excellent piece of land near one of the most beautiful lakes you’ll ever see. And Caroline and I have spent days getting all the supplies together. Madam Wigg sent us your list, and I hope you won’t mind that we’ve added a few things.”

  Phebe stayed silent, barely able to keep up with everything Christa was saying. As the friendly woman chattered on, Phebe cast a sideways glance at Henry. He was walking silently between Adam and his wife and looked every bit like a prisoner being escorted to his doom.

  She hadn’t missed the fact that Christa had mentioned it was Adam who had found the land for the school, and herself and her sister-in-law who had organized the supplies. Everyone seemed to have been intent on helping Phebe get her school started, except the man she expected to marry.

  Wondering if Henry even knew he was supposed to be marrying her in the next day or so, she decided it wouldn’t do any good to dwell on it. She’d find out soon enough. And if she had to start out all on her own, well then, that’s what she would do.

  Chapter 5

  Phebe kept her eyes shut as she yawned and then stretched out, enjoying the soft feel of the bed beneath her. It was the first time in her life she’d ever slept on a feather mattress, with a soft goose-down comforter to keep her warm. Not that she’d really needed it.

  The fall weather in San Francisco was very different from what she’d been used to in New York. The air here was cool but didn’t have the sharp nip to it that it did in the crowded city she’d grown up in. She’d spent the entire ride to the Frommer’s home looking out wide-eyed at all the sights, especially the large number of hills that seemed to rise right out of the bay.

  The whole city had a new sort of air about it—it was vibrant, with a touch of excitement. If this was what her father and older brother had felt all those years ago, she was beginning to understand why they might have chosen never to come home again.

  But if the city had amazed her, the Frommer residence had left her speechless. It wasn’t the largest private home she’d ever seen, but it certainly was the grandest one she’d ever been in. The wide entryway with polished wood floors everywhere had only been the start. The parlor, with its floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the bay, and dark, richly upholstered furniture and thick Persian rugs, left Phebe awestruck and tongue-tied. And the dinner that the very cheerful Hannah had set out would have been enough to feed half the orphanage. Or at least it had looked that way to Phebe.

  Still in a state of disbelief that she’d spent even one night in such luxury, Phebe went to the wardrobe and sorted through the few items hanging there. Her meager number of garments were lost in the large space.

  When she’d been shown to her bedchamber the night before, she’d found her small trunk already there and unpacked, as was the patched-together cloth valise she’d kept with her on the train. At first a little uncomfortable at the thought that someone else had been handling all her personal items, Phebe finally put her worry aside by reminding herself that back at the orphanage, they’d all taken turns washing each other’s clothes. Of course she’d known everyone there, and didn’t really know anyone here, but the idea was basically the same. Other people had touched her clothing on multiple occasions before, so she let it go.

  She picked out one of her three skirts, this one a brindle-brown with a tie at the waist, and a white cotton blouse that had been washed so many times its original color was long gone. It was a far cry from the carefully stitched crinoline-and-silk skirts that the Frommer women wore, with bodices trimmed in braid and lace. Phebe sighed. They looked beautiful. It was hardly any surprise that Henry had barely noticed her presence.

  Still bothered by her intended’s lack of a reaction at their first meeting, Phebe had to admit that little had changed at dinner when they’d both been mute as the conversation flowed around them.

  She wished she knew how he felt about the whole idea of marrying her.

  Absently glancing at the clock ticking away on a table near the bedchamber’s door, Phebe gasped. It was almost eight o’clock in the morning! Never had she started her day so late, and despite the sudden rumble of her stomach, she was sure breakfast was long past. Another sharp pang had her abandoning the idea of waiting until the noon meal for something to eat.

  Quietly opening the door, Phebe stuck her head out and looked one way and then the other. No one was in sight. She eased out into the hallway, then tiptoed toward the curved staircase at one end. She slowly made her way to the bottom floor, stopping every few steps to listen for any sounds coming from the other occupants of the house. But she was only greeted with silence.

  Hurrying across the front entryway and into the dining room, Phebe was disappo
inted to see the sideboards were empty and the table already set for the next meal. Fervently wishing she hadn’t slept in so late, she was at a loss as to what she should do now.

  She wanted to start looking over the supplies Christa had mentioned the day before, but had no idea where they were being stored. As if she’d known Phebe was thinking about her, Christa suddenly popped her head around the door at the far side of the dining room.

  “I was sure I heard a noise in here. Why don’t you come join us?”

  Glad to have something to do, Phebe nodded and made quick work of crossing the room, murmuring her thanks to Christa when the friendly woman held the door wider. Stepping into the kitchen, Phebe stopped just a few feet in and stared at Caroline Frommer. The mistress of the house was seated at a large table in the center of the room, a plate of food in front of her and a mug with steam curling up from its top in her hand.

  Christa grabbed Phebe’s hand and pulled her along. “Hannah and Nellie made sure to set a place for you. I was hoping you’d come down early so we could have a cozy chat without the men hanging about.”

  Phebe looked around again, taking in the stove on one side of a long wall and the icebox on the other, with rows and rows of open shelves in between. In all her imaginings, she’d never once considered that the wealthy might have a meal, including breakfast, anywhere but in the formal dining room.

  “Here?” At Christa’s laugh, Phebe gave her a sheepish look. “I had no idea well-off families ate their morning meal in the kitchen.”

  It was at least one household routine that had something in common with life in the orphanage. She and her friends had regularly eaten at the kitchen table, usually while they were preparing meals for the children.