She’d highlighted several sentences throughout, and now, she turned to the one that she could least forget. “I have to remind myself to breathe—almost to remind my heart to beat!” This is me, Nelle thought. Breathe. She broke the seal of Mathew’s letter.
She knew right away this wasn’t his typical letter. Although it was in his handwriting, there was something vastly different about it—he’d written a poem.
As Nelle began to read the first lines, she realized it wasn’t a poem by Mathew, but rather one he’d copied—the one from the collection of Christina Rossetti’s poems: “A Birthday.” This was the same poem Alice had read at the ball so long ago, right before she’d become engaged to Mathew; the same poem that had caused Nelle to watch Mathew and realize that every word from it felt like Nelle’s own soul speaking.
This time, though, different words and phrases stood out to Nelle. This time, she was reading it with Mathew’s voice in her head.
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
Mathew had signed his name at the bottom, as if he were the poet. In a smaller print, he’d added a postscript.
Dearest Nelle,
I must see you, even if it is only to assure myself that you are well. My mother will be accompanying me to the city, and we will call at your home.
All my love,
—M
He was truly coming, and she didn’t know what to think about it. Nelle’s heart expanded until she could feel the pain of missing Mathew again. How long would she feel this way? Perhaps seeing him would be the only way to truly let him go. It could be their final good-bye. Had he changed? Would he find her much changed? She wanted to see Mathew, she did, but she was far from well. And Nelle could never expect him to throw away his life by waiting for her. There’d been no word from Alice or her mother, so Nelle was curious to know what their news was and whether Alice’s marriage to Lucien had been all Alice had hoped it would be.
Here, in the garden of her childhood, with the autumn leaves stirring above her in the breeze, Nelle could almost believe her summer in Waterbury was a lifetime ago…or a series of events that had happened to another person. When she thought of Pearl, Nelle knew that she could never reconcile reality with her imagined experiences. Pearl had seemed real. To find out that Pearl hadn’t existed had made Nelle doubt many things.
“There you are,” a woman’s voice said, interrupting Nelle’s thoughts. “Dottie is here to see you. Should I send her out here?”
“Please,” Nelle said as she turned to see her aunt, a broad woman with a headful of fiery hair, always pinned into a sloppy bun. Being the mother of four young boys, Aunt Julienne always had a smudge on her face and a scuff on her shoes. Until her husband had inherited the house, they hadn’t been able to afford a governess, and Aunt Julienne had taken full care of her children. Although that had now changed, Nelle noticed her aunt still participated quite a bit, which was endearing to Nelle and which only made Nelle long for marriage and her own family all the more.
Even with Mathew’s letter in her hand and the sweet words tucked within, Nelle had started to feel more nervous by the moment. She hadn’t been to any social engagements since returning to the city, and she was worried about how she’d fare at Dottie’s ceremony.
The garden was a sanctuary to Nelle, and she was much more comfortable in these surroundings. Things like apothecary shops and memories of a mysterious Asian women didn’t plague her as much here.
Only moments after Aunt Julienne had gone back into the house, Dottie appeared. Right away, Nelle knew something was wrong. Dottie was usually perpetually happy. Today, her eyes were rimmed in red, so Nelle knew that her best friend had been crying.
Nelle rose and embraced Dottie. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s—it’s the wedding,” Dottie said. “I’ve had to call it off.”
Nelle couldn’t have been more shocked if an African tiger had come running through the gardens. “How? Why?” she asked.
Dottie collapsed against Nelle’s shoulder and started to sob. Nelle led her to the bench, where they both sat down.
“My father found out,” Dottie said, “that Simon has been gambling—with Mitch Barlow of all people.”
Nelle couldn’t be more shocked about Simon, a docile man, who catered to Dottie’s every whim. Although she wasn’t surprised that Mitch Barlow was a gambling man.
“A little gambling isn’t such a big deal, I suppose,” Dottie said between sobs. “But he’s almost out of his inheritance and says his wealth is on promissory notes written to someone else.”
“Oh, Dottie,” Nelle said, drawing her close. “What else did Simon say? Can his income be salvaged?”
“I don’t know. It’s all so sudden, and I haven’t actually spoken to him myself,” Dottie said. “My father found out by mistake and demanded I break off the engagement. So I wrote Simon a letter a couple of hours ago that my father hand delivered.”
Nelle closed her eyes, imaging the drama that Dottie had undergone. She released a long breath. “You love him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do love him,” Dottie whispered. “My father says he won’t have his daughter marry a gambler. And how can I disagree? On the surface, it’s the right decision. But my heart aches so.”
“If there was one thing I learned while staying in Waterbury, it was that we often worry about the wrong things,” Nelle said as she wiped her eyes and drew away from Dottie. “If you love Simon, then perhaps this isn’t the end of the world.”
Dottie blew her nose into a handkerchief. “What do you mean?”
“Come with me into the library, and I’ll explain,” Nelle said.
After Dottie followed Nelle to the library, she picked up the newssheets she’d been collecting on top of the credenza. “These are announcements and notices about employment out west,” Nelle explained. “Parcels of land are cheap there, and towns are popping up everywhere, demanding schools and stores and restaurants.” She handed one of the newssheets to Dottie. “Land is almost being given away, and perhaps you and Simon can start over—completely over. If Simon has developed a friendship with Mitch Barlow, then I’m not surprised he took the risks he did. It may not be wholly Simon’s fault.”
Dottie sniffled and took the paper. Glancing up at Nelle, she said, “Ironically, it seems our roles have been reversed. Now I’m the one in need of comfort and counsel.”
Nelle gave Dottie a small smile, for Nelle knew it would still be a long time before she was truly comforted. Every time she’d read the newssheets about requests for schoolmistresses, she’d felt unsettled. Perhaps it was the idea of going out into the complete unknown or of leaving the places where her memories of her parents were made.
“Thank you,” Dottie said, grasping Nelle’s hand. “Strangely, I feel better. I thought you would be like my parents and tell me to never see or speak to Simon again.” Dottie bit her trembling lower lip. “I know I’m still in shock, but I don’t know if I can give Simon up.”
“I guess you’re not the flirt everyone thinks you are,” Nelle teased gently.
“No,” Dottie said in a quiet voice. “I truly love Simon. This was just so unexpected.” She shook her head as if trying to come to her senses. “My mother is already in the process of cancelling everything so that at least we’ll get some of our wedding expenses back. Although my mother did say that we’ll never get our dignity back.”
“Unless Simon is made into the complete villain,” Nelle said, being all too aware of how upper society worked.
“Yes,” Dottie said, brushing at new
tears that were falling onto her cheeks.
“Spend a few days thinking about everything,” Nelle said. “Let the gossip settle.” Nelle only wished she had taken this advice herself, instead of fleeing to Waterbury, where her heart and mind were broken even more.
“What’s this?” Dottie asked, seeing the letter Nelle was still holding.
Nelle looked down at the letter, almost having forgotten about it. “Mathew wants to visit me with his mother,” Nelle said.
Dottie raised her eyebrows. “That’s great news, isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, what does the letter say?”
Nelle handed it over, not wanting to recount its contents. After Dottie read the letter, she folded it and handed it back to Nelle.
“He rewrote the poem you told me about?” Dottie asked, releasing a sigh and looking at Nelle. “You’re not going to reply, aren’t you?”
Nelle lifted her shoulders into a shrug and nodded. “The doctor says I still have a long ways to heal. My mind still can’t comprehend how Pearl was only in my imagination,” Nelle explained, her voice dropping to a whisper. “She was so real to me, Dottie—everything about her, down to the smallest detail in her shop. It hasn’t been like a dream, which fades with time, for the memory is as strong as ever.”
Dottie squeezed Nelle’s arm. “Perhaps we should both go west,” she suggested, “and start over completely.”
“With you and Simon?”
When Dottie nodded, Nelle said, “I’d be a burden.”
“Never,” Dottie said with a slow smile. She drew Nelle into an embrace. “Thank you, Nelle. And keep your heart open too. It wouldn’t be so bad to see Mathew, even if nothing comes of it. It might do you some good.”
Nelle drew away. “I’ll think about it,” she said, but she knew she’d already decided. She could never be a burden to Mathew or to Dottie.
Chapter Thirty
Although his mother’s answer was the same each evening—that Nelle hadn’t replied to his letters—Mathew still found himself hoping today would be the day. As he reined his horse to a stop and climbed off, his mother’s figure appeared at the open doorway, which was highly unusual. She would typically be waiting for him in the parlor.
“What is it?” he asked as he strode up the steps.
“A woman is here to see you,” his mother said. His thoughts immediately leapt to Nelle; his mother would probably have spoken her name. She seemed to understand what he was thinking, so she added, “It’s not Nelle, but someone who knows her.”
Was this good news or bad news? He couldn’t imagine why someone would have to speak with him in person, unless it was bad news. “Dottie?” he guessed.
“No,” his mother continued. “It’s an Asian woman.”
Thoughts collided in Mathew’s mind as he moved past his mother, tugging off his gloves as he went. He did not take the time to remove his hat and coat. As he strode into the parlor, Mathew found a petite woman standing near the hearth, gazing at the portrait of Mathew’s father.
“Hello,” Mathew said.
When the woman turned to face him, Mathew wasn’t sure whether he fully understood what he was seeing, for the woman matched the description of Pearl that Nelle had given him. His mouth nearly dropped open.
“You must be Mathew,” the woman said, extending her hand.
“Yes,” he said in a barely audible voice, questions racing through his mind. “Pearl?” he asked.
She smiled a delicate and beautiful smile. “I see you’ve heard of me.”
“Yes,” Mathew said again because he couldn’t decide which of his questions to ask first.
She continued to smile. “You resemble your father,” Pearl said, “and your mother too. A good mixture, I should think.”
Mathew didn’t know how to respond, for he hadn’t expected casual conversation.
Pearl walked past him and stopped at the window. “This is a beautiful home,” she continued as if it were perfectly natural that they were complete strangers with only one important thing in common. Then Mathew’s mother stepped into the room with curiosity in her gaze. So it seemed that Pearl hadn’t given his mother much information either.
“There you are, Mrs. Janson,” Pearl said as she folded her hands in front of her. “Now that you’re both here, I can let you know I’ve come to find Nelle. I’ve been to her aunt’s home, but her aunt would not give out any information and said that I might try here.”
Both Mathew and his mother simply stared back at the woman.
“I had to leave quite suddenly, you see,” Pearl explained. “And I wasn’t able to say good-bye.”
“You’re real?” Mathew said, knowing he was staring.
Pearl gave a light laugh, turning her dark eyes upon him. “Of course I’m real.”
“And your apothecary shop—that was real too?” Mathew’s mother interjected. “Mathew went there with Nelle, and the place was boarded up.”
“Yes,” Pearl said, her painted eyebrows drawing together. “Things seem to return to their former states after I leave—” she began to say.
“There was a shop then,” Mathew said, mostly to himself. “And Nelle wasn’t imagining it.” He stepped forward and touched Pearl’s sleeve. Her dress was made of soft, cool silk. It was real, all real.
Pearl’s lips pressed together. She didn’t move and didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been writing to Nelle,” Mathew said, dropping his hand. “She hasn’t responded, not even once. I’m not even sure she is still living with her uncle in the city.”
“Why hasn’t she responded?” Pearl asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“She…” Mathew started.
“Perhaps we’d better sit down,” his mother said.
Pearl took a seat and folded her dainty hands in her lap. She tilted her head as Mathew began to tell the story slowly, starting from when Nelle had brought the infusion from Pearl’s shop. He described his mother’s miraculous recovery, how the doctor had wanted to visit the shop for himself, and how they’d found it boarded up.
Pearl looked from Mathew to his mother and asked, “She thought she’d imagined me?”
Mathew nodded, and his mother said, “She was already suffering from her parents’ loss, so everyone leapt to that conclusion.” His mother glanced at him. “We didn’t know what else to think. We told Nelle that it didn’t matter, whether you were real or not, we still cared about her.”
“We haven’t heard from her in weeks,” Mathew said. “Her best friend, Dottie, sent us a short note awhile back to let us know Nelle’s under a doctor’s care now.”
“For what? For thinking she had imagined me?” Pearl said, her voice rising in pitch.
“Worse,” Mathew said, wishing he didn’t need to answer her. “For continuing to believe that you were real.”
Pearl stood and paced the length of the room. “We must find her.” She stopped and faced Mathew, her eyes looking wide and deep. “We can’t let Nelle spend another moment thinking something is wrong with her mind.”
Mathew released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yes,” he said, looking at his mother, who was smiling with tears dripping onto her cheeks. “We will make travel arrangements right away.”
“Can we leave in the morning?” his mother asked.
It would take some doing. But Mathew was as anxious as they were to find Nelle and ease her anxiety about Pearl. “I’ll make it work,” he said. “I’ll meet with Mr. Bradley tonight and ask him to cover for me for a few days. We’ll set off at first light.”
As Mathew hurried outside to make arrangements for their departure, his heart filled with gratitude, amazement, and increased love for Nelle. She’d lived in torture far too long, and he couldn’t wait to see her again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Nelle stood on the platform as the train station thrummed with the sounds of people and an approaching train. She gripped the handle of her suitcase tighter. The train squealed to a stop and peopl
e bustled around her. She let herself be propelled forward by the crowd as they moved toward the open door of the train.
Dottie and Simon had left the city a week before her, traveling to California after they had performed a quick marriage ceremony in the justice court. Soon they’d start their lives together in a new place and not worry about the New York society pages any longer. They’d start fresh.
After much begging on Dottie’s part, Nelle had finally told her she would think about coming. But she’d had several sleepless nights. She knew her life here would consist mostly of enduring doctor appointments, watching her nephews grow up around her, and staying childless. She still had not been able to reply to Mathew’s letters and realized that, one day, he’d stop writing to her. All this combined to convince Nelle that leaving New York completely might be her answer.
So she stepped into the train car now that would take her through New York and, eventually, out west. As one of the porters loaded her suitcase onto the shelf above the seats and strapped it in, Nelle sat down by the window. The crowd on the platform had thinned by now, and Nelle watched as a man embraced a woman in farewell as the orange glow of the afternoon sun settled around them, making it feel like a scene from a novel. Then she saw an older couple, embracing and saying a fond good-bye to each other.
Nelle fingered the pearl necklace she wore, thinking of her parents and of all the years she had ahead of her now without them. Will I always feel so empty inside? she wondered. She closed her eyes as other passengers came into the compartment, feigning sleep so she wouldn’t have to speak to anyone—at least, not yet. Whoever had entered kept their voices hushed as they settled in.
Finally, the train lurched into action, and Nelle opened her eyes. The afternoon sun splashed the train station with golden light, making the scene look like one from a picture book. Her eyes widened as she spotted a petite Asian woman standing near the edge of the platform, as if she’d tried to get onto the train but had been too late. Behind the woman was a tall man with dark hair.
Love is Come (Power of the Matchmaker) Page 18