by Indiana Wake
Maggie’s heart sank, already she was a disappointment. It did not matter, for better or worse she was here and she would do as Charlotte always suggested. She would let her personality shine for her. “Yes… I am Miss Finn and you are?”
“I am a friend of Mr. Harley.” He revealed as he stood and put forward his hand in greeting. “Beaden… Oscar Beaden.”
The man was an impressive sight. Tall, with sandy colored hair and piercing blue eyes, could this be her beau. A tickle of delight started in her stomach. Then it registered. “Oh… might I inquire where Mr. Harley is Mr. Beaden?” Maggie felt a rush of disappointment. Why hadn’t he come to meet her? Were things going wrong already?
“He couldn’t make it today. He has been taken ill. I’m afraid he won’t be coming to receive you. But he has sent his best person at task to take care of you,” he smiled but his eyes kept flicking from her face to the dust floor and there was color in his cheeks. Was he embarrassed?
“Now,” he continued. “If you’ll tell me where your baggage is…”
The ride with Oscar Beaden wasn’t the most pleasant of journeys that Maggie had experienced. Half the time he would not speak to her and when he did it was as if he had to spit out the words. The part of her that was scared believed he was disappointed with her and worried about how his boss would receive her. She clutched her Bible for comfort and believed that maybe this was just the western mannerisms. If it was, his openness astonished her. One moment he could not talk to her the next there was a general lack of courtesy. Back where she came from men would not ask her how many times she had done this. Or the even more impertinent, had she had many lovers. As always Maggie hid her discomfort with laughter as the carriage bounced along the terrible roads. And sometimes he would look at her with an intensity that was scary. As soon as he knew she was aware of his gaze his eyes would fall to his feet.
“Sorry,” he said as they were tossed together as the carriage went over a particularly deep rut. “It’s rained a lot recently,” he continued.
The contact gave Maggie a jolt of shock that was not entirely unpleasant. Quickly she pulled herself away and smoothed down her skirts to hide her distress.
How much further was it? The dark muddy roads were both exhausting and painful and with each jolt she felt her hair sagging. It was inevitable that she would end up looking much worse than she had hoped to look while visiting Simon Harley.
Day after day they traveled, stopping at small inns, where Maggie went straight to her room. Beaden had stopped talking to her, and if he did it was simply to grill her on what she was after. Why had she come? He would ask over and over. She was beginning to think even her sister-in-law was better than this.
After a laborious five day journey, they stopped at the footsteps of Harley house. It was made of raw bricks, not as large as she expected and had an air of desolation even though she could see it was recently built.
Beaden led her past a corral and barn, at least this was better. There was hay piled neatly in the barn and the horses in the corral looked happy and in good condition. A cowboy waved to Mr. Beaden but stopped and stared as he ushered Maggie past.
Maggie could not hide the disdain on her face as she entered the house. It was untidy and dirty. Had she just exchanged one maid’s job for another? Why did he not have a housekeeper? She knew that Mr. Harley was of good means because his letters suggested that he had been successful and had also recently inherited an uncle’s fortune. Yet the state of affairs was showing otherwise.
Mr. Beaden had not spoken much on their journey beside his grilling and to occasionally say how Mr. Harley eagerly awaited to see her.
As he led her through the house fear took a grip of her heart. What had she done? The rooms were sparsely furnished and covered in dust. There was an air of indifferent about the place. It did not match the gentle and educated man she had been writing too. Maybe she had made a big mistake? But what could she do? For now she was so exhausted and needed to loosen her corsets. Hopefully, there would be fresh water in her room and at last she could freshen up.
“I think you’d better get some rest, Miss Finn. Meanwhile, I will let Mr. Harley know you are here.”
He showed Maggie her room and left, leaving her to muse why she hadn’t seen or heard from Simon. Surely he was supposed to be somewhere in or near the house. Perhaps he was tending his cattle or out on business? As a wealthy man he must have many important things to do, but wasn’t she important? Had he changed his mind?
With a sigh, she looked around her new room. It was sparsely furnished but neat and tidy. The comforter on the bed was new and feminine in pretty pink pastels. A bowl and towel waited for her and she smiled at this small comfort. The floor was wooden and free from dust and a cattle skin rug was placed near the bed. An effort had been made here at least.
She sat at her dresser and looked in the mirror. Her face was covered in dust; her hair looked like it had been caught in a hurricane. Quickly she freshened up and then lay down on the soft quilt. The house was not that bad, and she could soon whip it into shape. After all what did she expect of a bachelor living all alone?
But her mind would not still. Why was there no mention of Oscar Beaden in the letters Simon sent her? And why had he not met her? Surely if he had taken ill, he would have told her. Something seems amiss… but she was too tired to wonder after such a weary journey, and she soon fell asleep.
Chapter 3
Maggie woke a little later and set out to explore her new home. She tried to put the broody Oscar Beaden behind her and walked out of her room, her head held high. The house seemed gloomy, had she made a wrong decision? The hallway was dark and all the doors leading off it were closed. She walked down the stairs to a gloomy entrance. The floor hadn’t been cleaned in months and then into a living room. It had an ancient painting covered with dust hung opposite a large fireplace. She then walked into the kitchen, only to find one dish on the counter which had most probably been bought from an inn. The most prominent thing about the house seemed to be dust, as everything was covered in it.
Maybe it needs a womanly touch, thought Maggie. Maybe my presence here would prove fruitful to all of us.
“So I take it you like the house, eh Miss Finn?”
She turned around to see a man seated in a chair looking at her. Dressed in the traditional country attire, his form surprised her. He was not as young as Maggie had thought. He had a short mustache that was turning a little gray at the sides, as was the hair at his temples. Yet, he had a dignified mouth sported by a chiseled jaw line. That seemed to give her some hope.
“Si… Mr. Harley?” she muttered, not meaning to sound rude.
“Miss Finn, you are a little more than I bargained for,” he smiled, although his face distorted to a more constipated look. “I suppose my assistant Beaden brought you here? He looks after the farms for me.”
Oh dear, he is disappointed. She thought and then. Why don’t you look after it yourself, she wondered to herself; curious about all the happenings that had been kept from her.
“I’m afraid our correspondences haven’t revealed the nature of this house and my health. I really need a woman’s touch around the place. Hopefully, you will gradually come to terms with my circumstances,” he spoke with utmost clarity and an indecipherable expression.
Their conversation was interrupted by Oscar Beaden, who entered the kitchen and set the table for them. As he served dinner, Maggie wondered what health problems Simon suffered from.
Oscar and Simon spoke of the crops and the livestock and the future of the farm and Harley house. Not once did they approach the subject of Maggie or her stay there. Maggie thought it impertinent to ask too many questions on her first day but resolved to find out what was in store for her. She had dinner and went to bed early, with a heavy heart and mind, already missing the life she had left behind. Her prayers that night were as confused as her thoughts.
The next day at breakfast, she found Simon already seated at
the table. His features appeared to be softer now or was it the daylight? The graying hair at his temples seemed more endearing or was it Maggie’s hopes projecting themselves on him?
“G… good morning, Simon”, she mustered.
“Morning Miss Finn, did you get a good night’s sleep?”
“Maggie, please. And yes, I did.”
“Good. Then let’s get one thing straight. I posted the advertisement because Oscar had been constantly nagging me to find a wife for myself. I am, as you can see, well settled with a house and some income. However…” his eyes dropped to the chair and for the first time Maggie realized it was an invalid’s chair. She had heard of these but never seen one, and believed they were very expensive. Was he a cripple?
“As you can see I have been in an accident. I injured my spine, due to which I am, as you can see, unable to stand, or walk.”
Maggie was not sure what to make of this revelation. She was stupefied.
“And was Mr. Beaden aware of the contents of the letters we shared?”
“He… yes, well … he basically wrote them for me.”
“What?” she replied, her face ashen.
Her shock was what Simon had expected. Although he had been reluctant to agree to Oscar’s schemes of posting an advertisement for a bride, he did seek companionship. He was terribly lonely, and their correspondences had given him a ray of hope though not in the way Oscar would have liked. Yet now that he looked at her, he found all his hopes sinking like a lost ship in an unknown ocean.
Maggie was angry, he had fooled her. Made himself out to be what he was not. She could see he was thinking, and maybe she was not quite as she had described herself. Never once had she mentioned her considerable size. Sometimes it crossed her mind but not often. She was what she was and hardly ever thought about it. That was unless someone else brought it up, but the look on his face told her she was a disappointment. His eyes seemed to have lost what little luster they had. How tired he looks, wondered Maggie. How fragile. Maybe I can help him; maybe together we can have a new life. Perhaps Beaden did the right thing?
Just then, they heard a strong tap on the door and Oscar Beaden walked in, with a bag full of groceries.
“I expect you know how to cook Maggie because until now, we have been surviving on food from Mrs. Collins Inn, and she is not the best cook,” Simon said.
Was that all she was to be, their cook? Where was the intelligent man who wooed her heart across the miles? Did he no longer care about her intellect or even her appearance? Was she brought here just to serve as a housemaid to Simon and Beaden? She glanced over to Beaden’s end of the table, where she was surprised to notice a flash of pity on his face. It disappeared as soon as he caught her looking at him.
“Miss Finn?” Simon reminded.
“Yes, please give me a list of what you like.”
That was how her life in the West started and five days later, Maggie had become fairly used to the workings of Harley house. Oscar Beaden looked after Mr. Harley’s personal needs. Helping him into his chair and with other tasks he could not manage. She knew one day this would be her responsibility, but so far there had been no further mention of courtship or marriage. Once again, she was falling into loneliness and despondency. Yet this time she did not even have the pleasure of his letters to give her hope.
Each morning before breakfast, she would tend to the chickens. They had become her only friends. Sometimes she would watch Oscar as he tended the livestock. It was as if her eyes were drawn to him while she looked after the house, dusted or cleaned. Her routine was to prepare and serve the breakfast, lunch and dinner for both Simon as well as for Mr. Beaden. In many ways, her life had not changed much. She had simply exchanged one master for another. So far, there had been no mention of marriage and she knew she had been duped. Here she was miles from anywhere; all alone and day by day she became more and more unhappy.
Chapter 4
Simon had grown accustomed to Maggie’s presence and appreciated her work more with every passing day. The dusty kitchen and living room had been replaced by spick and span floors.The aroma of freshly baked bread and stew permeated the kitchen and made her seem every bit as endearing to him as her mild demeanor and understated beauty. Her golden hair hung in a long plait down her back and he knew she never realized how beautiful she was. From her letters, he had expected a firecracker, but she seemed subdued, beaten almost. Her big beautiful figure was often covered by the tiny cape she wore while performing her chores. Her pale colored, floor length dresses were so perfectly stitched that they accentuated her femininity and softness. This was all part of her and despite himself he had begun to love her dearly. Yet, he could not bring himself to utter how keen he was on her because he had a plan and he was determined to carry it to fruition. She had developed a silent and accepting nature and he often sensed that he had upset her somehow.
She stiffened up whenever he entered a room she was working in, and she rarely spoke to him. Although they were on first name basis with each other, he often felt he needed to explain to her why he had written to her, yet he couldn’t. He kept waiting for a suitable moment, but somehow it never came. Would his plan work? Would it break his own heart and could he sacrifice so much? These were all questions that ran through his mind with increasing frequency and he knew he must do something. The way things were it must be torture for her, but for his plan to work this was necessary.
One day, while Maggie was working outside, trying to settle a piglet in the barn, she saw him gesture and call out to her.
“Maggie… Maggie!”
She wiped off her hands on her apron and walked up to him.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes… I was just wondering if you would… like to come to the annual fair with me. As my betrothed?”
Maggie thought, and that was it. No courtship, no formal proposal, no man-on-his knees asking for her unparalleled devotion for an entire lifetime… nothing at all. Maggie once again felt her hopes and dreams shatter. She had never hoped for an extravagant life, but she had hoped that whenever she would marry, she would marry for love, with absolute certainty that he was the one. Before she had met Simon, she was sure that he was, for his letters challenged her to think beyond her horizons. His account of his life and the fields and people he worked with made her imagine him to be a well-educated man, a man of experience. Yet here she was, working as an apprentice in his household; cleaning his rooms, washing his clothes, giving him food. It was not as though she didn’t notice the occasional intense stares or stealthy glances that he peeked at her. In fact, they offered the only light to her gloomy days.
She pondered over the question for a few seconds. She was here to marry him and to get rid of her loneliness after all. Besides, who else would marry her? Who else would appreciate her hard work and forbearing presence? Here was a man who was willing to look past everything and build a life and future with her. So what if he couldn’t walk, he could surely make her feel useful and welcome. That was more worthy than she had ever felt while living with Daisy and Matthew. It was not the love she had set out to achieve, and he was not the man who had written to her. Had that been Beaden? Or did he only write what Simon told him too? Questions swarmed around her head like bees around a hive, and at last she decided the marriage would be what she made it. If she wanted conversation then she must instigate it.
“I would like that very much,” she said at last and sealed the deal.
The next day Beaden entered the barn, with supplies to repair the nearby shed. Maggie watched him as she filled a pail of water for her morning wash. He nodded and tilted his hat in order to greet her.
Maggie had not realized how important Beaden was to Simon initially. She thought he was just a friendly face who also helped him with the farm. However, she soon realized she was wrong. Beaden did everything for Simon: from helping him wash and clean up every morning to fetching groceries and taking care of their horses, and running the ranch.
Beaden did it all. He was more of a companion to Simon than anyone.
Gradually she had managed to get his story from them. Little by little she pieced together snippets from Simon and a word or two from Oscar. Simon had met Oscar Beaden shortly before he had suffered the terrible coach accident that took away the capability of movement from his legs. Beaden used to live in a tiny hut with his old parents on the outskirts of Missouri. His parents owed a large sum of money to one of the landowners due to a failed crop scheme that they devised after migrating to the west. The landowner’s brother took offense when he heard of the matter and sent fugitives to burn down their home. Simon found Oscar broken and distraught, his mood teetering from despondency to revenge.
Something in the man’s eyes had drawn out the lone ranger in Simon. He decided to help the tall, muscular man who sat on a burnt piece of land with a far-away look in his eyes. Thus, began the camaraderie of Simon and Oscar. Maggie was touched by the story. In many ways, Simon had done exactly the same for her. If only she could develop the relationship with him that the two men had. They talked easily and respected each other, yet she, who had come out here to be his wife, still felt like the hired help. Perhaps she should do more for Simon. It was obvious that he was dependent on Oscar. One day she would have to take on this role, but maybe if she did it now, she could bring back the man who had written to her. Unless of course it was Oscar, a voice said in her head.
She couldn’t make up her mind about Beaden. On one hand, he instructed her to mop the floor, feed the chickens and prepare lunch; and on the other she found him looking at her with such a piercing gaze that she ended up with flushed cheeks. Quickly she would look away or try to appear busy in her work.
“Good morning, Mr. Beaden.”
“Oscar, please. I think we know each other well enough.”