A Leap of Faith (Mail-Order Brides 8)

by Annie Boone

  A Leap of Faith

  Annie Boone

  A Mail Order Bride Short Story

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are products of the author’s imagination. Any misrepresentation or discrepancies about the places or history are research or interpretation errors by the author.

  For more information about the author, Annie Boone, check out her website.

  http://www.AnnieBoone.com

  Chapter One

  Gillian Sinclair’s gaze swept across the formal receiving room. It was filled with an impressive display of people wearing custom designed gowns and impeccable black tuxedos. The gentleman tipped their top hats as they entered the elaborate hall. Of course they then handed their hats over, along with their scarves, to the servants who were trained to serve. The servants had specific jobs and were trained to do their jobs efficiently without ever meeting the gaze of those they were serving.

  The servants took each guest’s possessions and scurried away to make sure that each person was served appropriately. Gillian watched how they did their jobs and noticed their nervousness. They were efficient and did their jobs well, but because this was such a large and important party, their flawless performance on this night was critical.

  Gillian made a point to talk to her own personal maid whenever she could. Three years together and the girl still was so skittish. Perhaps she thought Gillian was mocking her or being inappropriate when she asked questions about her. But Gillian truly cared for her. She sincerely wanted to know about her. In most cases, however, the help and the masters didn’t mix. Gillian knew that, but she really liked the shy girl.

  As the only daughter of the wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Thaddeus Sinclair, it may seem that she had it made. She had the stunning pearls, an impressive wardrobe, and the very influential family name. Who wouldn’t want that?

  They served in their church and were respected and revered by the other members of the congregation. Of course, Thaddeus Sinclair was on every church committee and even headed the budget committee. Gillian was told by her parents what she would believe about God and how she would proclaim her faith to anyone who may or may not be interested.

  “Grace Church would be lost without our support. God will reward us for our efforts there,” she remembered her father saying on numerous occasions. It seemed to her that church was just another way that her father and mother could feel important. She wanted to really make a difference in the world, not just go to church with other people who were just like her every week.

  But it was Sally, her maid, who possessed the real freedom which is exactly what Gillian wanted. She envied Sally’s liberty to do as she wished without anyone fussing over her or handing down expectations. She wished every day that her parents didn’t scrutinize every single thing she did and said. Sally even got to choose the church she attended and how she lived her faith.

  Sally could make her own choice to stroll through town without tarnishing her reputation. She had the independence to go on a picnic and not fear the consequences getting dirty or actually having fun. But most important, freedom to choose who she would marry and where that wedding would take place.

  The man Gillian chose to marry would have to be approved by her father. Her mother had already planned her wedding which would be a monstrously ostentatious event at their church. There would be hundreds of people there that she didn’t even know. Her wedding would have to be in the sanctuary to be blessed by God even though that was the place she felt the least close to her Heavenly Father. Her feelings and wishes would not matter. At all.

  She hadn’t even bothered to meet anyone on her own. It wouldn’t do any good anyway because her father was handling every single part of her courtship. So far everyone he brought around was worse than the last.

  They were all pretentious snobs who only wanted a wife to further establish themselves. They wouldn’t ever actually care for her. Gillian often recalled a conversation she’d had with her mother.

  “But Mother, I don’t want to marry someone who doesn’t love me. I want to be in love when I marry.”

  “Oh dear,” replied Rose Sinclair, “love will come later. You will learn to love the man you marry. You’ll eventually have a wonderful life of luxury only in your own house with your own servants.”

  “That’s not how I want it to be, Mother.”

  “Gillian, you’ll understand one day that marriage isn’t about love. It’s about financial security and maintaining a strong place in society. You’re a beautiful girl, Gillian, and you’ll be a strong asset to any man you marry.”

  No, thought Gillian. There would be no learning to love for her and social standing meant nothing to her. She knew her marriage was planned to be a business transaction. A melding of important families. And so, she avoided the topic at all costs. She had done her duty and met with the men her father introduced her to, but these attempts at courtship never went very far.

  She would not be a game piece for her father to play as he saw fit. This was her life and she would make her own decisions. She would find a way. Yes, she would find a way!

  Gillian wandered idly into the library trying to act interested in her parent’s party even though she found it tiresome and boring. As she surveyed the people in the room, she felt a hand on her elbow. She wanted to jerk it away, but she controlled the urge and turned around to see who it was.

  “Well if it isn’t the lovely and elusive Gillian Sinclair!” John Meyer exclaimed in his nasally, annoying voice. “I’ve been looking for you. Where in the world have you been hiding?”

  “Oh, I haven’t been hiding, John. Just mingling,” she responded weakly. She found that she couldn’t even make herself smile at the tedious John Meyer. He was one of her father’s front running choices who Gillian was having a problem getting rid of.

  “Well, would you do me the honor of being my dinner partner?” he asked. The hopeful look on his face wasn’t enough for Gillian to agree.

  “I’m sorry, John, but I’ve already accepted an invitation from another. Maybe next time.” She smiled as politely as she could to the unexciting suitor and backed away a few steps before turning to leave the room.

  Gillian drifted through the hallway to the next room. She felt so out of sorts at having to be there with people she didn’t like or trust. She always had streams of hopeful suitors. They all knew who she was and how marrying into her family could help their careers and their bank accounts.

  She noticed a man she’d not met before making his way toward her. She hoped he would veer away and that he was really on his way to visit with someone else. She wasn’t to be so lucky, though.

  “You must be Gillian Sinclair,” the man said as he walked up to her confidently and stuck out his hand. “Joseph McNally.”

  Gillian accepted his hand, but she didn’t smile back. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m an associate of your father’s. He mentioned he has a daughter. He failed to mention her beauty and grace, however. Shame on him,” Joseph McNally chuckled.

  Ugh. He thinks he can charm me by dropping in that he knows my father and then tease about his failures, she thought. “And how do you know my father, Mr. McNally?” she asked trying to be civil with this man who seemed like a pompous dolt.

  “I have recently taken over the accounts and finances at Hunter’s Mercantile. I consult with your father on business matters for Mr. Hunter,” he answered with obvious pride.

  “Good for you, Mr. McNally. I hear that Mr. Hunter is getting up in years. He has no heirs. Maybe you’ll put yourself in line to inherit,” Gillian responded.

  “That’s not my intent, I assure y
ou. It’s actually a bit rude of you to speak in that manner when you have no idea what my objective is,” sputtered Mr. McNally.

  Finally, Gillian smiled. “I do apologize, Mr. McNally. I must be going. Good luck in your new position.”

  She couldn’t get away from that irksome man quick enough. He was worse than most of the others her father had sent her direction. She was certain that her father had intended for the two of them to meet. Well, that tactic wouldn’t work, either.

  Just when she thought she might be in the clear, someone stepped into her path. She looked up and sighed heavily. All she wanted was to be left alone to watch the people quietly by herself.

  “Miss Gillian! I didn’t know you were here tonight! I’m happy to see you,” said the young man.

  “And it’s nice to see you, too, Robert.”

  “I know you enjoy a good joke, and I’ve been collecting more to share with you the next time I call on you.” Robert Willingham was the son of one of her father’s senior officers at the bank. He fancied himself as a jokester.

  Oh my, your sense of humor is stiffer than a corpse, thought Gillian. Then she forced a smile and simply nodded.

  “I would very much like a drink. Shall I escort you to the drawing room?” Robert asked.

  Knowing she would be able to find a way to lose him soon enough, she agreed and took his arm. He was the least offensive of all the young men her father had paraded in front of her, but she still found him intolerable.

  Cocktails were served first in the drawing room. The crowd of guests would be summoned by the butler to the main dining hall where the dinner party would continue when dinner was ready for service. It was tedious, and Gillian sighed as her eyes took in the place settings that showed just how many courses she would be subjected to.

  Gillian’s mind drifted away as Robert steered them to some of his friends. She stood silently as the men took turns talking about things they deemed fitting conversation for a woman of her family position. They would save the real topics of interest for after dessert.

  The men would retreat to the drawing room once again, but this time it would be only the men, armed with cigars and brandy as they debated politics. The woman would sit and wait, complimenting each other on having access to the latest fashion. Rose Sinclair would show off her new decor and all the other woman would eye her collections, preferably green with envy.

  It was all a pretentious show. It meant nothing. Nothing. Gillian didn’t want this life. It was the life a thousand woman in the posh city of New York would kill for. Her mother reminded her of that fact whenever she sulked about the mansion. She’d willingly hand it over to any of them. The last time she had stated her opinion, she was scolded harshly by her mother.

  Of course it was a comfort to not worry about money. To have a warm fire at night and servants attending to her every need gave her a sense of security. Gillian wasn’t unaware of just how good she had it, but it was all too much and the more she had, the more she felt like she was suffocating under the pressure of high society.

  It was exhausting, this charade of trying to always have more, do more, and be more than anyone else in their circle. It actually even went further than their circle. Her father wanted to best everyone. She wondered if the people around her even care about her, or just envy her lifestyle?

  The Sinclair family was the wealthiest in their church and in the neighborhood they lived in. It was draining being in the spotlight at all times. Knowing that all of high society was watching your every move, just waiting for you to falter. That’s why her parents kept her under their thumb. Oh how she longed to be somewhere else and with people who weren’t like the haughty crowd she was always thrown with!

  The night seemed to go on forever and the main course hadn’t even started yet. Gillian hid her exhaustion with the party and her boredom well. Or so she thought. Clearly she had not done as good a job as she should have. The glares her mother gave her showed that she wasn’t as poised and proper as was expected.

  Finally, glares alone weren’t getting the job done. Gillian saw her mother approaching and gave an inward sigh of dread. She put on a fake smile and waited for her mother to reach her side.

  “Gillian, just what is wrong with you?” asked Rose Sinclair. Her voice was a low whisper, but the determination to resolve what she perceived as an intolerable situation was evident.

  “What ever do you mean, Mother?” replied Gillian with wide-eyed innocence.

  “Don’t toy with me, Gillian. This party is full of influential people who can aid your father’s career. It is also full of potential suitors for you. I will not have you offending anyone who is a guest in our home, no matter who they are or what they can do for us. Straighten up immediately.”

  Gillian couldn’t think of anything to say. She also knew that nothing she could say would penetrate her mother’s ambition to throw a good party. Gillian was already watching her mother walk away from her, anyway, so she didn’t even bother to nod her agreement.

  She turned to find Robert Willingham standing looking at her. He must have heard the exchange with her mother. He was polite enough to not let on and simply extended his hand to her. She took it and went with him to the long dinner table.

  They sat quietly as dinner was served. When their plates were laid in front of them, Robert looked at her and reMarcused dryly, “Rack of lamb with minted garden peas? Not very creative. I had it at Delmonico’s the other night.”

  Gillian opened her mouth to respond but she was so surprised by his haughty jab at her mother’s menu that she was at a loss for words. Then she noticed the twinkle in his eyes realized he was joking. She smiled at him and nodded her head slightly.

  “I was just thinking the same thing, Robert. Perhaps we will manage to choke it down,” she responded.

  She made it through the torturously long dinner, at least up until dessert. She had hoped that Robert would be a bearable dinner companion, but it had not worked out that way. The compassion she thought she had sensed was false. He soon lapsed back to the obnoxious joke teller she knew him to be.

  When dessert was being served, she could take no more. She made an excuse and left the room with Robert watching her walk away. She hated like the devil to miss her favorite jellied berries with cream, but she was hopeful that some would be left that she could sneak back to her room later that night.

  When she got to her room, Gillian asked her lady’s maid, Sally, to help prepare her for bed. She loathed even having a servant to help her undress, but it had always been the way. If her mother discovered she had sent Sally away, she would get another lecture. She wasn’t in the mood for that. It just was easier to go through the motions.

  Once alone in her bedchambers, Gillian could hear the muffled laughter of the dinner party continuing downstairs. The voices echoing throughout the enormous mansion. It didn’t matter how many people were in the house, she felt completely alone at times such as this.

  Alone in the darkness, Gillian wished she had a pet. A cat or a dog to lie at the foot of her bed at night would offer her some such comfort. A snuggly little creature to play with and talk to. But her mother saw such a thing as being ill mannered and unsanitary.

  Animals were not meant to live in a lavish home in the city. They belonged on farms and in the forest. Two areas that Gillian had no immediate access to. She had seen a circus once, it traveled through with magnificent animals. Elephants and tigers. But her favorite were the horses.

  How she had longed to jump on the backs of one of those magnificent beasts and ride off into the sunset of her future. But that, like all her wishes, were so far out of reach she knew it could only be obtained in her dreams.

  And so Gillian closed her eyes and imagined herself on that horse now, wishing that it could carry her away in her sleep that night.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning, Gillian woke to find that her mother had requested her breakfast in bed. She knew that was code for having overindulged in the
wine the previous evening. Her father was already gone, no doubt at some business meeting he had arranged the night before. That’s the purpose of all of the dinners, to make more connections.

  Without her parents to oversee her actions this morning, Gillian went down to the servant’s quarters to get herself a cup of coffee. The main kitchen didn’t offer coffee, she could only get tea. Her mother insisted that coffee was a peasant drink and she didn’t allow it to be served. When she entered the small servant’s galley, everyone in the room jumped to attention. The immediately began straightening their backs and trying to get their composure. They seemed worried that someone had come to complain about their performance last night.

  “Miss Gillian, how might we serve you this morning?” Sally inquired. She stepped forward as she spoke.

  Gillian waved her hand and smiled at them. She gestured for them to sit back down. “Oh, well I just wanted a cup of coffee. And some company,” she admitted. The servants looked at each other in complete shock. The cook, Mrs. Porter scurried over to the stove to fetch Gillian the pot of coffee that had just finished brewing.