“You did your best. More than enough. I deeply appreciate that you tried.”
“At least Brandon’s alive.” He peered closely into her face, as if searching for her reaction.
“I hear he suffered some frostbite, but he’ll be good as new.”
“You haven’t been to see him?”
At last, the opening she’d been waiting for. “I haven’t been to see Brandon, nor do I intend to. Do you remember when you saw us in the restaurant?”
A corner of his mouth pulled into a slight smile. “I recall.”
“What you don’t know is, I had just told him I could never marry him, and believe me, I meant what I said.” How could he not understand? How much more plainspoken could she get?
“So…” Slowly a smile spread over his face. “So, you and I…?”
“You and I, Mr. Darcy McKenna.”
They weren’t alone. A few stragglers had yet to leave the cemetery. The site of her brother’s funeral was hardly the proper place, but certainly Hugh wouldn’t mind, and she couldn’t care less what people might think. She raised her hands to his shoulders and pulled him toward her. His breath caught as he took her into his arms. Sighing with pleasure, she sank into his warm, welcoming embrace.
“Forever,” he murmured.
“Forever,” she whispered back. Not much of a conversation, but from a man who didn’t talk much, what more did she need?
* * * *
If she’d had her way, Elizabeth Sinclair would have organized the most elaborate wedding Lucky Creek had ever seen. It would have been a welcome distraction from Hugh’s death, but Laurie said no. What with the ever-increasing output at the Monarch, she was much too busy, and so was Darcy.
Despite her mother’s protests, Laurie married Darcy McKenna in a small ceremony attended by family and close friends only.
Elizabeth’s disappointment didn’t last long. To her delight, the wedding of Ada Sinclair and Kenvern Trenowden turned into the most extravagant, highly attended event the town of Lucky Creek had ever seen. It hadn’t started out that way. In her modest fashion, Ada had declared, “Just a simple wedding is fine, just like Laurie’s. A few friends, some sort of refreshment afterward, that’s all I want.”
But the Trenowden brothers had other ideas. Wouldn’t she like to have a big Cornish wedding? “Outdoors by a clear brook,” Kenvern reminisced about weddings he’d attended during his early days in Cornwall. “Under tall ash and oak trees. The smell of salt water in the air, coming from the ocean. A band of Cornish musicians playing sea shanties and polkas.”
Ada quickly warmed to the idea. And so, too, did their mother. As the weeks went by, Elizabeth kept putting off her return to Philadelphia. How could she leave when Ada needed her help planning the wedding? The winter months passed, and on a sunny spring day, the wedding of Ada Sinclair and Kenvern Trenowden turned into the grandest Lucky Creek had ever seen. Mother and Ada couldn’t arrange for salt air from the ocean, but finding a brook was no problem, nor was substituting pine and fir trees for oak and ash. There’d been a small difficulty with the menu. Kenvern had requested his favorite, stargazy pie, but when Ada discovered it featured fish heads sticking through the piecrust, she firmly put her foot down. They settled for oggies, which the brothers explained were savory meat pies.
Practically the whole town was invited, and from what Laurie could see, everyone was having a fine time. They all loved the oggies, and declared the wedding cake, made from clotted milk, a Cornwall specialty, to be the best they’d ever tasted. And of course, the bride and groom glowed with happiness, a delight to look upon. Little Mathew and Maryanne were part of the wedding, too. Already Kenvern treated them as if they were his own. In turn, they adored him and were already calling him daddy.
Increased responsibilities at the Monarch had kept Laurie so busy that not until Ada’s wedding day did she take the time to think about where she’d been and where she was going. As she stood for a moment alone, watching the guests dancing in a clear spot beneath the trees, she could hardly remember how much she’d hated Lucky Creek when she first arrived. Amazing, how it had changed since then, thanks in large part to the Association for the Improvement, Beautification, and Enlightenment of Lucky Creek. To her daughters’ astonishment, Elizabeth not only joined the Association, she and Mrs. Wagner had become a powerful force for good in the town. A new, honest sheriff had been elected. Trash no longer lay uncollected on the streets. Construction of a new courthouse was well underway. In both looks and temperament, Elizabeth Sinclair and Lucille Wagner couldn’t have been more different from one another, yet they’d become fast friends and greatly enjoyed each other’s company. Mother hardly mentioned Philadelphia anymore. Both Laurie and Ada agreed, she’d never go back now.
As Laurie stood watching the dancers, two arms went around her waist. Darcy had slipped up behind her. “Care to dance?” he asked.
“Not now.” She pressed back against him, warm and secure, aware of the life growing within her. “I think I felt it move a while ago.”
“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, and she could hear the slight tinge of wonder in his voice. She had never realized how much a baby would mean to him until she saw the tears in his eyes when she told him.
“I decided you’re right about the window,” he said.
“I know I’m right.” Once, in a moment of candor, he’d told her of his need for a big window facing east so he could see the morning sunrise. “Our bedroom will face east,” she’d told him when they were drawing plans for a house of their own. “You’ll have that window.”
“It’s not necessary. I don’t need it anymore,” he’d told her.
“Yes, you do. If I’d spent my childhood in a coal mine, I’d always want to see the sunrise.”
Nestled beneath tall trees, overlooking the river, their new home was almost complete, and that included a big bedroom window facing east.
Now, on Ada’s wedding day, standing under a bright blue sky, he gently gripped her shoulders, turned her toward him, and gazed at her with adoring eyes. “I’m glad it’s there but still don’t think I need it. With you, I can always see the sun.”
Never had he uttered anything so flowery, so sentimental. “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me, Darcy McKenna.”
“This is just the beginning,” he said and pulled her into his arms.
Meet the Author
Shirley Kennedy was born and raised in Fresno, California. She lived in Canada for many years and graduated from the University of Calgary, Alberta, Canada, with a BS in computer science. She has published novels with Ballantine, Signet, and several smaller presses. She writes in several different genres including Regency romance, western romance, and contemporary fiction. She lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, and is an active member of the Romance Writers of America, Las Vegas chapter. Please visit Shirley at www.shirleykennedy.com, or follow her Twitter account @ladyk360, or on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/shirley.kennedy.52.
Bay City Belle
If you enjoyed Lucky Creek Lady, be sure not to miss all of Shirley Kennedy’s
In Old California series, including
Before the war, Belle Ainsworth led a life of pleasure and privilege in the deep South. Five years after losing her fiancé at the Battle of Gettysburg, she is still alone, with no prospects for marriage among the remaining men of her acquaintance. But out west, there are possibilities. And when Belle answers an ad for a mail-order bride and boards a train to San Francisco to meet wealthy restaurateur Robert Romano, it’s with the hope of at last making her dreams of family come true.
When the train is robbed, Yancy McLeish, a disillusioned Union Army hero, rescues Belle from her attackers—and lays claim to her heart. But Belle has pledged her troth to Romano and intends to honor that commitment. It’s a decision she soon regrets, for her groom-to-be is nothing like his letters. As she plo
ts a course to escape Romano, Belle prays that road can lead her back to the safety of Yancy’s arms, where she believes she was always destined to be…
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Chapter 1
Savannah, Georgia, 1870
Miss Annabelle Ainsworth, known as Belle, never missed the semi-weekly meeting of the Georgia Ladies of the Confederacy. At today’s meeting, held in the parlor of the Elihu Barnes residence, visits to veterans’ hospitals were arranged and the annual report from the Committee Dedicated to the Beautification of the Graves of the Glorious Dead was heard and approved. Soon both old and new business had been efficiently dispatched. As they always did, the members conducted themselves with profound dedication. The war had ended over five years ago, yet the consequences of that terrible conflict lived in the hearts and minds of everyone present. As far as the ladies were concerned, General Lee’s surrender at the Appomattox Court House happened yesterday.
Refreshments and social chitchat followed. Ordinarily Belle enjoyed this part best, but at the moment, her mind kept wandering. If there was anything more boring than listening to the endless prattle of Miss full-of-herself Allegra Barnes, she didn’t know what it was. Not that she’d let it show. She sat, teacup in hand, face carefully arranged in an expression of attentiveness, as if she couldn’t hear enough of Allegra’s account of her struggles with her latest achievement in the art of embroidery.
“So I decided to go with the dollhouse cross-stitch,” Allegra rambled on. She paused and got a curious grin on her face. “But enough of all that. Ladies, I have something exciting to tell you.”
“What?” came a chorus of curious female voices, including Belle’s and that of her sister, Victoria, who sat beside her.
“I’m going to get married.”
Everyone gasped. Belle set her cup down with a clatter and exchanged stunned glances with Victoria. In the old days before the war, such an announcement wouldn’t have come as such a shock, but now? Who on earth was Allegra going to marry? More to the point, who was left to marry? The war had cut a deadly swath through the male population of Georgia. The battles at Gettysburg, Bull Run, Wilson’s Creek, and more had taken countless Confederate lives. If a bullet hadn’t felled their brave soldiers, then dysentery, typhoid, and God-knew-what diseases did. And even if they’d lived… Belle felt a twinge of sorrow, as she always did when she thought of Bridger, her brother. He’d survived the war but would never be the same. Come to think of it, neither would she. At the age of twenty-five, she should have been comfortably married by now, with at least a child or two, but she’d lost Jeremy, her fiancé, at Gettysburg. In fact, most of the beaux who’d courted her were gone now, so here she was, single, childless, living with Victoria and her husband. Not that she led a useless life—far from it. Her busy sister depended upon her to help care for her three children who all adored their aunt Belle. In turn, she loved them so dearly she hardly missed having children of her own, or so she told herself.
Victoria was the first to respond to Allegra’s stunning marriage announcement. “That’s wonderful news. Is it someone we know?”
“Not exactly.”
“But of course he’s a Southerner.”
“Not exactly.” Allegra got that smug, superior look on her face that annoyed Belle to no end. “Don’t worry, dear, he’s not a Yankee.”
“Then who?” came the chorus. “Tell us! We’re dying to know.”
“His name is Edward Smith, and he’s a respectable merchant in the city of San Francisco.” Amidst a sudden, shocked silence, Allegra continued, “We’ve corresponded. He’s asked me to marry him, and I sent a letter this morning telling him I accept.”
Like everyone else in the room, Belle could hardly believe what she was hearing. “You mean you’re marrying a man you haven’t even met?”
“Why not?” With a defiant gleam in her eye, Allegra reached for a newspaper that lay on the table next to her. “Have you not heard of the Matrimonial News? It’s printed every week in Kansas City, a most respectable publication. Here’s the ad I answered.” She opened the paper and began to read. “‘A respectable gentleman of thirty years old, six feet tall, 170 pounds, doing a good business in the city of San Francisco, desires the acquaintance of a young, intelligent, and refined lady, of a loving disposition from eighteen to twenty-eight, one who could make his home a paradise.’” Allegra laid the paper in her lap and flopped out her hands. “How could I resist? I wrote back. He responded and wants me to come. He’s sending me a train ticket, and that’s all I’m waiting for. When it arrives, I’m off to San Francisco.”
Mrs. Beauregard Bedford Stuart cleared her throat. All eyes turned to the group’s highly respected president, a formidable figure with her silver-grey hair worn in a stern knot, and her starkly plain, black bombazine dress. She gazed at Allegra with a mixture of alarm and incredulity. “Are you actually going to become one of those mail-order brides?”
Allegra tossed her head. “Indeed I am, Mrs. Stuart. You can say what you want about staying loyal to the South, and I would if I could, but I can’t. My beloved Frederick was killed at Bull Run, so where does that leave me?” Her gaze swept the room. “I’m as loyal to our glorious dead as you are, but that won’t warm my bed at night, now will it?” She sat back in her chair, pleased her indelicate remark had caused a few nervous twitters. “Look at me. Twenty-five years old, young and pretty if I do say so. But who’s to care if I’m pretty or not? Our men are gone. What am I supposed to do? Drink tea and decorate graves until I’m fat and wrinkled and wither away?”
“But, my dear…” Seldom at a loss for words, Mrs. Stuart seemed unable to speak, as if she’d choked on something.
Victoria spoke up. “But Allegra, think of the chance you’re taking. What if you travel clear across the country only to find this Edward Smith isn’t who he says he is?”
“Then I’d come home.” Allegra turned her attention to Belle. “Your sister is married and has her children, so how could she possibly understand? But you know what I’m talking about, being as we’re the same age and both of us still unattached. You’re such a pretty girl. Like me, if it weren’t for the war, we’d both be married by now, with children of our own.” She picked up the Matrimonial News and opened it again. “Listen to this, Belle. ‘Established restaurant owner of good character, thirty-three years old, six feet tall, 170 pounds, brown eyes, seeks to correspond with respectable young lady of pleasing appearance, preferably of full form. If interested, write to Robert Romano,’ and it gives the address.” She raised her eyes. “You fit his requirements perfectly. Just think, we could be neighbors in San Francisco. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Belle could think of nothing more unappealing than living next door to shallow, arrogant Allegra Barnes. But she would conceal her aversion to such a prospect and be polite, like she always was. “I’m flattered you’d ask, Allegra, but I’m happy as I am, thank you. Marriage isn’t everything. I like my life as it is, and who knows? Perhaps someday the right man will come along.”
Allegra met Belle’s remarks with an annoying burst of laughter. “Highly unlikely, and you know it.”
Yes, she did know. Only too well did she know, especially when she lay awake in the middle of the night, her heart aching because she must face the unbearable truth that she would never be married, never have children of her own. Not for the world would she reveal her true feelings, though. She shrugged with feigned indifference. “Whether the so-called right man shows up or not, I’m perfectly content with my life.”
Allegra folded the Matrimonial News and dropped it back on the table. “I suppose you think I’m crazy, but I’m not. Give it some thought. You might change your mind.”
“Thank you, Allegra. I’m always open to new ideas.” Nothing like a polite lie to avoid any further discussion.
* * * *
&nbs
p; As Weldon, their stableman, drove them home, Victoria couldn’t stop talking about Allegra Barnes. “That poor man in San Francisco doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for.”
Belle nodded in agreement. “If he expects she’ll make his home a paradise, he’s in for a rude awakening.”
“How nervy of her to imply you’d be interested in that ridiculous ad. If she thinks you’d actually leave your beautiful home for a man you’ve never met, she’s lost her mind.”
Belle took a moment to answer. “Actually I don’t think Allegra has lost her mind. It’s that awful war that’s turned our lives upside down and twisted our thinking.”
Victoria returned a disdainful sniff. “The war has nothing to do with it. Allegra’s always been a meddler.”
Belle didn’t bother to argue. Victoria would never understand. She was one of the lucky ones. Before the war started, she married Harlan Beeman, a well-to-do young trader. When the time came, like every other able-bodied man from the South, he joined the Confederate Army. Through what the family considered a small miracle, he’d returned home unscathed. Now, although his business had greatly suffered, he provided a good home not only for his wife and three children, but for Belle and their brother, Bridger, as well.
Belle threw her sister a rueful smile. “You wouldn’t understand. Despite what you might think, Allegra’s only doing what she’s driven to do. It’s human nature for a woman to want to be married and have children.”
“So what am I not understanding? What about you? Do you mean you’re not happy living with us? I thought—”
“Of course I’m happy. What would I have done without you?” Belle meant what she said. Before the war, the Ainsworth family lived a comfortable life among the genteel citizenry of Savannah. Her father had made his fortune on the Savannah Cotton Exchange. Her mother reigned as one of Savannah’s leading social figures. Their four children grew up in a city considered one of the most serene and picturesque in the country, known for its grand oaks festooned with Spanish moss, elegant architecture, fountains, and green squares. But their paradise didn’t last. By the time the war ended, the Ainsworth family had been decimated. Belle’s father, who’d been made a colonel, died at Antietam. Her oldest brother, Gregory, died a hero’s death at Chickamauga. Bridger, next to the oldest, survived but at a terrible cost. Their beloved mother died of typhoid before the war was over.
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