by Indiana Wake
“Miss Sharpe, how do you do?” Harold’s bald scalp glistened as he offered her a deep bow. “I was hoping that your sisters would attend services today. I wanted to invite them and yourself, of course, to a small gathering this Tuesday evening. Just a few friends, you understand, and perhaps a friendly game of whist. I know how your sister Eleanor loves to play.”
“You are very kind Mr. Wood, but my sisters and I are in mourning.” Ruth fought to keep her voice even. It still seemed unreal that father was gone. “My sisters are grieving and do not feel themselves equal to any sort of social gathering.”
“Of course, of course.” Harold Wood bowed again, but not in time to hide the avarice glittering in his pale eyes. “I had rather hoped that being a small gathering of friends, it would serve as a distraction from their sorrow.” He reached out and grasped Ruth’s hand with both of his. It was all she could do not to recoil from the contact. “It was remiss of me to not begin with my heartfelt condolences,” he said, but his eyes were filled with need, not sympathy. “Your father was a good friend of mine and will be sorely missed. If there is anything I can do to help you during this time, please feel free to come to me. You know I have been very successful with my own investments and would be more than happy to offer my advice in regards to yours and of course, Eleanor’s inheritance.”
So that was what he wanted.
Ruth drew her hand free from his grasp and put it behind her back, out of his reach. She wiped her glove on her black crape polonaise. “You are very kind, but father’s solicitor is adequate for our needs.”
“Even so, you must allow me to be of service to you. May I call on you later this week so that we may discuss matters?” The man’s oily smile had Ruth’s stomach threatening to reject the little bit of tea she had managed at breakfast.
She had to get away before she disgraced herself. “Not this week, please. We need time to be together before receiving any callers.” Ruth began to back away then turned and fled at a dignified pace although her heart galloped as if she were actually running.
Safe in her family’s home, Ruth closed the door and leaned against it. She had gone to church hoping to find healing for her grief, but any benefit she had gained had been lost with the words of that odious man.
“Are you well, Miss Ruth?” The housekeeper began to untie Ruth’s bonnet with gentle fingers. Although she was a servant, she had been with the family for years and sometimes when she was younger, Ruth had imagined her as the mother she barely remembered.
“Thank you, Agnes. I am well.” Ruth pressed a kiss to the woman’s papery cheek. “As well as any of us I imagine. I had hoped Church would help, but once there, I found I could not keep my attention on the preacher’s words.”
“Oh you poor child.” Agnes’ eyes threatened to spill over as they had many times already if their redness was any indication.
Ruth hastened to stem the tide. “I’m just tired, I think. Are my sisters up yet?”
“Yes, the poor dears are in their rooms and weeping fit to break my heart.” The housekeeper wiped the tears that dripped down her wrinkled face.
Ruth sighed and patted the woman’s arm. “Would you be so kind as to ask Cook to prepare some tea and a light meal and bring it up to Eleanor’s room? I don’t think any of us could eat a full meal today.”
“Of course, my lamb. I will prepare it myself and bring it up directly.” Agnes bustled off to do her task.
Ruth lifted her full underskirt so she could mount the stairs without tripping. She stopped first at Esther’s door and tapped lightly. The sound of muffled weeping did not cease, so Ruth opened the door and crossed to her sister’s bed.
Esther had buried her face in the pillow clutched to her chest and her black hair covered her like a tent. Ruth sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the damp curls from her sister’s face. “Come, my love, you must not carry on so. You will make yourself ill.”
Esther shifted position until her head; still half buried in the pillow lay on Ruth’s lap. “Oh Ruth, what shall we do? What will become of us? How could father leave us this way?”
“He didn’t mean to leave us, darling. Sometimes these things just happen.” Ruth swallowed back her own tears. Giving in to them would serve no true purpose. Right now, she had to concentrate on soothing her youngest sister and convincing her to join her in Eleanor’s room. “Besides, he isn’t truly gone. He is in heaven and looking down on his girl’s right this moment. You know your tears would make him sad.” Ruth wiped away a renegade tear. “He hated to see you cry.”
She helped the teary Esther sit up and wiped her wet cheeks. She gathered the tangled mass of curls and began the long task of unsnarling it.
Esther sniffled, but at least the tears had slowed. “But Ruth, what will we do? How can we go on without father?”
“We will manage dearest somehow. We still have the house and Father told me that some of his newer investments would keep us quite comfortably, perhaps better than ever. I know he spoke of increasing your dowry and Eleanor’s as well.”
“What of yours Ruth? As the eldest, yours should be the biggest.” Esther turned and faced her older half-sister. Her blue eyes were puzzled.
Ruth grasped her shoulders and turned her around so that she spoke to the younger girl’s back. “I still have my inheritance from my own mother. That is quite enough for me. Besides I am nearly thirty and the chances of me making a good match ended years ago.” The admission stung, but her sister’s quick denial was a balm to her heart.
“But you are only twenty-seven and I know there is someone out there who is desperately looking for a woman like you.” Esther tried to turn again, but Ruth held her in place, still combing her fingers through the curls and restoring some order to the tangled mass.
“You have been reading those silly romance stories again.” Ruth was glad her sister couldn’t see the fond smile that tugged at her lips. She had nearly given up trying to interest her sisters in classic books rather than the sentimental romance novels they loved so much. But there was no reason to let the girls know that. “True love and happy ever after only happens in the story books.”
This time, Esther succeeded in turning to face her sister. “Don’t you believe in love? At all?”
Ruth had to laugh at her sister’s shocked face. The merriment felt odd after so much sorrow in the last few days, but her heart lightened. “Of course I do. I love you and Eleanor, I loved father, and of course, I love God, but loving a man?” Ruth shook her head. “That is not for everyone. It is not for me.”
Before her sister could protest, Ruth stood and headed for the door. “That is enough of such talk. I am going to Eleanor’s room. Please dress and join us as soon as you can.”
Once in the relative privacy of the hallway, Ruth paused to compose her features. She seldom allowed herself to indulge in self-pity and was quick to suppress it when it arose. Like any girl, she had dreamed of her future and the handsome young man who would love her more than all others. As she got older, she would have settled for a steady man who would provide for her and give her children but now… Now it was too late, for her at least.
Her father had promised to find a husband for her but somehow had never managed to find a single suitor. She was neither homely nor stupid. She came from a good family and was a welcome guest at parties. So why had he never found someone to at least call on her? Sometimes she suspected that he didn’t look, that he wanted to keep her home where she was a surrogate mother to her half-sisters when their own mother died nearly ten years ago.
Now he was gone and she was doomed to the unpromising life of a spinster for no proper woman would go out and seek a husband for herself. Now there was no one to take on that task. She would do all that she could to save her sisters from that same fate.
In control of her emotions once more, Ruth moved on to her other sister’s room. Unlike Esther, Eleanor was dressed and her dark hair pulled back into a neat bun at the base of her neck. She stood at
her window and looked down into the dull, winter-killed garden. Grief had etched deep lines into her lovely young face.
“Eleanor?” Ruth spoke quietly and crossed the room to stand beside the other woman. “Did you sleep well?”
Her sister glanced up at the question. Her eyes were red and puffy with dark circles that spoke of the lack of rest. “As well as any, I suppose.” Eleanor searched Ruth’s face. “Ruth, will we have to leave our home?”
“Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?” Ruth tried to smile, but the seriousness of her sister’s face prevented it.
“Nothing, just something I overheard father saying last week.” Eleanor shrugged and turned back toward the bleak view.
“What do you mean, what did he say?” A sense of foreboding crept into Ruth’s chest.
“That if something didn’t happen, all was lost and he would lose everything. He was talking to Mr. Wood.”
“I’m sure it is nothing.” Ruth let a smile of relief touch her lips. “Just this morning after service, Mr. Wood spoke to me. He offered his services in managing our inheritance. If Father had spoken so to him just last week, then he would know what father’s plans were. He would not have offered to help if there were nothing.”
Esther came in just then followed closely by Agnes with the tea things and a platter of tempting sandwiches and cakes. The subject was dropped, but later, in her own room, Ruth felt that niggling sense of doubt about Mr. Wood’s intentions. Was it their money or one of her sisters he was after?
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Bonus Sneak Preview of The Postponed Bride
Chapter 1
Ace Bennett was the perfect suitor in all ways but one. He was well spoken, rich, and from an established family. His tan skin and charcoal hair accentuated the sparkle in his eyes and his keen fashion sense. And there he stood.
Why did she have to take a walk right then? Maybe it was the color of the sky, a soft lavender that called her out to enjoy the air and to gape in wonder.
“Miss Amber, fancy meeting you here. How was your day?” Ace asked.
“Quite fine. Thank-you,” Charlotte Amber replied, ignoring the shudder that ran down her spine. How could her father want her to court this man?
Her named matched the color of her proud hair. Everything about Charlotte evoked envy. She was prominent in stature, both in her height, her looks and in her sensibilities.
“You don’t mind if we have a little chat do you? I was hoping I could have you over for dinner. I’ll have my house staff make you the loveliest stew,” Ace said.
Charlotte looked past him and fiddled with her white gloves as she took a few small steps forward. “Perhaps,” she managed. “But I am rather busy at the moment.”
“There’s no need to be shy around me. I’m a genteel man, learned, and quite blessed with a good business and family.”
She sensed a burning in her chest, not a flutter, but a sharp pain. Her skin felt as if it were about to boil and the rising temperature of her outer shell obscured the cool evening New England air.
“I’m sure that’s all well and true. I know your business and family, but I must be going. I have some very important business to attend to,” she stammered as she spoke, but the approaching coach drowned out the crackling in her voice.
The single horse drawn carriage strolled past them until the pitter patter of the hooves, and the rattles and squeaks of the wheels quieted, to a soft distant rumble. Once the noise abated, Ace cornered her, blocking her from walking across the cobblestone street.
She was certain he could feel the heat emanating from her body. Had it been a few degrees cooler, he would have seen a cloud escape her lips when she spoke.
“Come now, what urgent business must you attend at such a pleasant evening hour? Tea and biscuits with your fellow ladies? I’m sure they won’t mind it if you are less than punctual.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. Squeezing tightly until she winced with pain, but she would not let him see it. “Mr. Bennett, I’m sorry, but I really must be going now,” Charlotte said as she twisted her arm and slipped away from his grasp. Quickly she set off away from this fiend. Maybe that would be enough to make him understand. It was not.
She heard him increase his pace as the tapping heels quickened behind her and seemed to beat in time with her distressed heart.
Her attempt to escape was futile. He caught up with her easily, and moved directly in front to restrict her path.
“It’s not polite to disregard me. You should know that I can be genteel, or I can be more assertive. Is that what you want? Do you want me to be more assertive, more forceful?”
Ace caressed her face with his fingers. She jerked her head back, denying him much time to feel her damp skin.
“Mr. Bennett. I do believe that is quite enough. You are interrupting my evening stroll, and I must ask that you let me be.”
She pushed him off and managed to escape his grasp then hastened her stride. Ace played the game with her, cornering her once again. This time, he pinned her to the wall.
Her back met the brick face of the building, pinching the skin of her shoulders and soiling her fine garments. Her body was pressed so tightly against the wall she breathed in the flavor of the moist earth that graced the surface of the structure.
“You're hurting me Mr. Bennett. I’m a Christian woman,” Charlotte garbled as a few beads of sweat rolled down her salty forehead.
Ace uttered a noise she failed to make out, he grabbed for her clothing. As he took hold, she pulled away and her bodice ripped. Charlotte panicked and fought against him, his hands dug into her skin, scratching and bruising. No matter how much she struggled, she could not get free. As the realization took hold, her breathing grew faint, but before she succumbed to the deprivation, she mustered the last bit of strength within her and remembered something her father once said. Swiftly she raised her knee, putting all her anger and disgust behind it, she slammed it upwards.
Ace slouched over as he felt the prickling needles and sharp pain erupting in his nether regions.
“You’re going to pay for this Charlotte,” Ace said, garbling his words as he spoke.
“No. You’re going to pay Mr. Bennett. No man tries to assail me without consequence. You will be penniless once my family hears of this.”
Charlotte hurried back in the other direction. The sound of her heart seemed to push her forward. Run, it beat, run or he will catch you. So run she did, ignoring the punishment she was giving to the soles of her dapper leather shoes. Her stride was further hampered by the layers of clothing and uneven streets. A few times, she tripped on the uneven stones that protruded from beneath the soil as if for that very reason. Several times, she thought that this would be the one that took her down to the ground, but each time, by the grace of God, she managed to be saved from a tumble.
Each time she tripped, a gasp escaped her as she imagined his hand reaching out and pulling her back. Onwards she ran, ever stumbling and tripping but ever closer to home and safety. The sound behind her had lessened. It seemed her actions had slowed him down, but she dare not slow her pace in case he caught her.
A sound emerged from the uproar of her breathing and heels. It was a shrill echo, one that matched the hollow shingle style architecture of the New England Street where she found herself. Charlotte listened to the noise that emerged from the surrounding chaos until the high pitch formed into something vaguely familiar.
“Spare a penny for a fellow lady?”
Charlotte didn’t recognize the creature that laid before her, sprawled out on the side of the street in tattered rags, at least not at first. She squinted her eyes, not sure if she was going to stop or keep on sprinting.
A small sympathy inside her forced Charlotte to hesitate and pay attention. She gazed beyond the dirt and grime, trying to inspect the soul of the mortal hidden underneath the caked-on silt and grim
e. At last, she stopped, panting heavily, a hand to her chest. Taking a look back, she seemed to have gained some distance. Charlotte saw the woman and recognized her. She was a woman of the night, or at least she used to be before she was tossed aside by the Madame of the establishment, but there was something else, something familiar about her.
“Please Miss; I can see you have a kind soul, just a penny, or a crumb of bread. I’m really hungry.”
The woman stretched out her arm, struggling to hold it above the rest of her body. Charlotte gazed upon the filth laden, cracked skin that emerged from the unclean dress, but it was the glimmer in the woman’s eyes that arrested her.
The woman’s gaze bewitched Charlotte, freezing her in place and leaving her uncertain. For a moment, she forgot about the assault, focusing instead on the plight of the poor woman in front of her.
Charlotte unpinned her sequined clutch and handed the lady a crisp one dollar bill before the reality of the prior events stole her attention.
The beggared woman’s eyes widened and her feeble body trembled to the point of collapse.
“Thank-you Miss. I don’t know how I can repay you.”
At that moment, the vagrant lady caught a glimpse of Mr. Bennett, still reeling from the pain in his groin, yet hurtling along at a healthy clip.
She looked back up at Charlotte and then gazed over at Mr. Bennett. She saw the fear in Miss Charlotte’s eyes and the pain in Mr. Bennett’s step.
“Maybe I can,” the forlorn woman said.
But Charlotte did not wait to hear; she sped home as fast as she could always afraid that he would reach out and stop her.
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Bonus Chapter Pioneer Love
Chapter 1
1885
Her heart beat against her chest as if she were walking into battle, and for a second her nerve left her. Anna froze on the dirty street, she dropped her skirts into the melted snow and effluent that ran past her shoes. What was she doing here? Surely there was another way, but no matter how she racked her brains she could not think of one.