Wife needed. The bold writing caught her eye. Thirty-year-old businessman from Dry River, Texas, urgently requires refined, intelligent, single lady capable of keeping the bookwork for his business, with a view to marriage. References of the highest order can be provided.
A Mail-Order Bride? Her hand shook. She hadn’t considered such a thing before, but Mrs. Boston had once mentioned about her cousin whose two daughters married men they had corresponded with, and the unions had proved successful. Dare she do it?
She was twenty-one years old with no beau and little opportunity of meeting a respectable man as she knew very few people in New Orleans. She didn’t particularly like the humid weather, either.
“Madame, what do you think?” She showed Madame the paper.
“Well, he sounds genuine. I know of a young woman who used to live here. She corresponded with a gentleman from Georgia, I think it was, and they got married. She did write to me a couple of times and sounded happy. Don’t you like living in New Orleans?”
“It’s all right. I only left Texas to come here with Mr. Moreau. When he came here, he brought most of his staff with him. And to think that horrible wife of his has gradually got rid of most of them.”
She shook her head. “I feel, well, sort of betrayed. I’m not even sure whether Mr. Moreau would step in to save me even if he was here. He’s so besotted with his wife he does everything she wants. I worked diligently for him for five years and now I’m cast aside like an old shoe.” Angrily she scrubbed a wayward tear from her cheek.
“Why not have a bet each way, as the gamblers would say. Write to this man and try to find a position here also.”
“That’s a good idea, I think I will.”
She would like to return to Texas, not Austin where her parents likely still lived on their ranch. “You are dead to us.” Her mother’s vitriolic words echoed in her ears. “We have no daughter now.” Worse still was her father’s accusation of whoring herself to Mr. Moreau.
A cold shudder ran through her. No matter how desperate she got she would never contact them.
Anna headed out of the house with hope in her heart of things turning out well. She would familiarize herself with the area then look in earnest for a job tomorrow when the shock of what had happened receded.
After leaving the house, she purposely crossed over the street, so as not to go near Lempriere’s Garments. Goodness only knew what went on beyond the high brick wall. At the Centurion Hotel, a sign in the lobby proclaimed that there were no positions currently available. A pity because she did like the look of the place.
A little further on she came to a pretty shop, Josephine’s Exclusive Millinery, and was just in time to see a well-dressed matron taking down a position vacant notice. If only she had come here before going to the Centurion, the job might have been hers.
With her optimism fading, she decided on find a nice French bakery to have a coffee and a pastry to cheer herself up.
She wandered around for a while until she found a small bakery with a few tables and chairs positioned on the footpath out the front. A sign in the window caught her eye. Wanted, temporary waitress/serving hand. A temporary job was better than no job.
Straightening her bonnet and clutching her reticule, she pulled the shop door open. The wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries caused her mouth to water. Pretty lace curtains covered the windows, and on trays behind a polished wooden counter was such an array of cakes and pastries she almost drooled.
A young man with dark hair and moustache smiled at her. “Good morning.” He certainly wasn’t French, not with that Texas drawl.
“Good morning. I came to buy a coffee and a pastry, and I’ve just seen your sign and I do happen to be looking for employment.”
“It’s only temporary, my wife Simone is recovering from the birth of our son.” He grinned. “We live on top of the shop. Her mother is with us for the moment helping with the baby.”
“How long is the position for?”
He chewed his lower lip. “A couple of months, maybe a little longer. Whereabouts in Texas are you from Ma’am?”
“Austin.”
“Yeah? I used to live just out of Dallas. Do you have references? I’m John Xavier by the way.”
“No, I don’t have any for the moment. I’m Anna Simpson.” She gave him a brief version of what had transpired. “I am really quite desperate to obtain a position, Mr. Xavier. I would be prepared to work a day on trial without pay.”
“Without references, um….”
“Please, can’t you help out a fellow Texan?”
“All right, as one Texan to another, I’ll give you the day’s trial, and if it works out the job is yours until Simone feels up to coming back.”
“Thank you, Mr. Xavier, you won’t regret it, I promise.”
“You can start at nine o’clock tomorrow.”
To celebrate she bought a baguette. To her untutored mind it was a breadstick, and half a dozen mixed pastries. She would forgo the coffee here and share her purchases over a coffee with Madame Hazel.
With a new spring in her step she left the bakery and headed home. She would write to Mr. Edwards and express her interest. No harm in doing that. She had no real future in New Orleans now.
About halfway home, Anna passed a narrow alley running between two shops. She spotted a disheveled dark-haired woman slumped on the ground with her back resting against the wall, legs stretched out in front of her.
“Can you spare a coin or two for a poor widow woman?”
Anna hesitated. Her first instinct was to hurry away, but the pleading desperation in the woman’s eyes stopped her. How old she was, Anna had no ideas. She was too dirty and bedraggled, her face lined with fatigue. Even more shocking, a small boy huddled beside her.
Anna reached into her reticule and dug out a few coins. “Here you are, I don’t have much to spare.”
“Thank you. God bless you.” The little boy’s eyes remained rivetted on the breadstick she carried. He licked his lips. They were both lean and hungry looking. This could be me, she thought with a shudder, if I can’t find a permanent job.
“What’s your name?”
“Ginny Smith.”
“And your little boy?”
“Max.”
“Howdy. I’m Anna. Here.” She handed the breadstick over. She would never be able to eat it knowing this pair were so hungry.
Ginny broke the breadstick in two and Anna noticed the mother gave the boy the larger portion. They wolfed it down.
“Have these, too.” She handed over the pastries.
“Thank you. I’ll keep these for later,” Ginny said.
“I have to go now.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” the woman said in a voice that wasn’t uncouth. “My husband got killed at work and we lost our home. I sold everything we owned to survive as I couldn’t get work. Now I’m reduced to begging in the street.”
“I’m sorry. I’d like to help you more, but I can’t as I’ve recently lost my job. Goodbye and good luck.”
“God bless you,” the woman called out.
Anna raised her hand in acknowledgement but didn’t turn around.
On arrival at the boarding house she told Madame Hazel what had happened. “So, there’s no fresh bread or pastries for us.”
“You have a big heart, Anna.” A tanned work roughened hand touched her soft white one.
“It was awful.” Anna shuddered. “Something like that could happen to any woman.”
“You can’t know for sure what she told you was the truth, but there is a lot of hidden poverty in New Orleans, and not just because of the war, either.”
In her room Anna opened her writing kit to pen a letter to Mr. Edwards.
Dear Mr. Edwards,
I saw your advertisement in the newspaper, and I am interested in your proposal. My name is Anna Simpson and I currently reside in New Orleans.
> I have recently lost my position as a bookkeeper and am finding it difficult to obtain another similar one.
I am twenty-one years old and have never been married. I originally come from Austin.
My height is five feet three inches and I am of slim build. I have blue/green eyes and brown hair. I have been told I am attractive. I always like to present myself well. I am a God-fearing woman and would only consider a man who was the same.
If you could provide more details about yourself, I would be obliged.
Signed. Miss Anna Simpson.
She would post it on her way to the bakery tomorrow.
Chapter Three
After only two weeks of working at the bakery, Anna knew she couldn’t stay there for much longer. Mr. Xavier had a nasty temper. The man was probably on edge because of having a new baby in the house. There was no need for him to take out his bad temper on her, always smiling and pleasant toward the customers, rude and obnoxious behind the scene.
Mr. Moreau had not returned and positions within her capabilities were scarce without a reference. The three dollars fifty a week she was paying Madame Hazel, even with breakfast and dinner included was straining her finances as Mr. Xavier was only paying her five dollars a week, although she did receive left over pastries or buttered bread sticks. Madame Hazel was a generous soul, providing lunch for her on Saturday and Sunday as well, something she didn’t do for the other guests.
****
Finally, a letter arrived from Mr. Harry Edwards. Enclosed was a glowing reference from the Bank Manager and the Preacher at Dry River.
My Dear Miss Simpson.
I have your letter to hand and am enclosing my references for your perusal. You sound exactly the type of refined young woman I have been searching for. I do need a wife and bookkeeper urgently due to my business circumstances, so I am therefor asking whether you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.
Anna’s hand shook, it was so sudden. She would have liked to have exchanged a few more letters with the man first, but his references showed him to be of impeccable character. If she procrastinated, she could lose this opportunity.
If you accept my proposal, write and let me know what train you will be arriving on and I will meet you at Dry River station.
I forgot to mention that I have a large and comfortable home and can keep a wife, if not in luxury, at least in a very comfortable manner. I am also of sober habits.
Yours in expectation.
Harry Edwards.
“Do it,” a little inner voice whispered inside her head. If she met Mr. Edwards and didn’t like the looks of him, she didn’t have to marry him. She could continue her journey on to Houston where there might be better employment opportunities. It would mean staying the night in Dry River and catching the next train to Houston. At least she wasn’t that desperate she couldn’t follow her instincts for now, at least.
****
The next few days passed uneventfully. Ginny and Max had started waiting for her each day. She couldn’t give the poor unfortunates any more money. She just didn’t have it to give, but Mr. Xavier let her have the broken or leftover pastries and bread sticks for them. Ginny had told her the only job she would be able to get was that of a prostitute and she wasn’t prepared to do that. Anna didn’t blame her. In fact, the woman went up in her estimation because of it.
She finally met Mrs. Xavier, well, not face to face, but the woman was obviously as volatile as her husband. Knowing full well she could hear them, and obviously not caring, they had a heated argument. She didn’t understand the woman’s French even though her tones were raised and angry. What shocked her the most was the shocking language used by Mr. Xavier.
She forced herself to serve the customers with a smile and a friendly word. Not that there were many. Several people had hesitated at the door during the Xavier’s screaming match, shook their heads in disgust and walked on, not that she blamed them. She didn’t want to be a party to such vileness either.
She felt vindicated about accepting Mr. Edwards marriage proposal and telling Mr. Xavier she would be leaving to get married. He had taken it better than she had expected, so most probably his wife was ready to start working again. I’ll go to the station and buy a ticket on my way home.
Once she got the date and time of her departure, she would write to her future husband and let him know when to expect her. Only a little while longer then she would be meeting up with the man who held her future in his hands. She only hoped he was as nice as he sounded in his letter.
****
A couple of days later she headed toward the alley where Ginny and Max usually waited. What would happen to them once she left? Madame Hazel told her to tell Ginny to go to the church for help, and she couldn’t understand why the woman didn’t. Each time she saw them, Ginny seemed in a worse condition than before.
Although ragged and dirty, Max didn’t have the hungry pinched look of his mother who obviously fed him first, then ate what was left.
On arrival at the alley she was shocked to see a sheriff’s deputy hanging on to a screaming, kicking Max.
“Anna, Anna,” the child cried out to her.
She glanced at the blanket covered corpse lying on the ground, and recognized the cracked, holey boots Ginny always wore.
“What happened?”
Max still screaming, reached out for her. “Anna, Anna.”
The deputy handed him over to her. “You know these people, Miss?”
A couple of passersby stopped to stare, most scurried by, not caring that a young mother lay dead.
Briefly Anna explained how she knew them. Max’s scrawny little arms were wrapped so tightly around her neck she could scarcely breathe. “What happened to her?”
“Tripped and fell down and hit her head by the looks of things.”
“What will happen to Max?”
“An orphanage unless we can find a relative to take him in.”
“Ginny told me they didn’t have any relatives.” How could she let the poor little boy go to an orphanage? She had heard so many horror stories about those places, it would be criminal to let him go there. He was a sweet child; six years old his mother had said.
“I’m sorry, Miss, it’s the orphanage for him. I hate sending him there. Most of those places are terrible.”
Anna watched a tremor pass through the deputy’s body. “No-one would know better about those places than me.”
“You lived in one?”
“I’d hardly call it living. Let’s say I survived, two of my brothers didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not half as sorry as me, but there’s no choice. If I was married, I’d take the boy myself to save him from what could be a fate worse than death. Look, Miss, I’ve sent for the doctor and undertaker and I’m just waiting for them to arrive.”
Anna gnawed her bottom lip as Max sobbed into her neck. “Maybe I could take him if there’s no-one else.” Could she? Would Mr. Edwards mind?
“Look, Miss. If you want him take him and go before the others get back. I’ll tell them he ran off. No-one will care.”
A young woman dies, a small boy is left alone, and no-one cares. It was soul destroying. She couldn’t desert him under the circumstances. “I’ll take him.”
“God bless you, Miss, but go now.”
Anna hurried away carrying Max. Just like that. She had gained a child. Would Madame Hazel let him stay with her until she left for Texas? Would Mr. Edwards mind too much?
After a short distance she had to put the child down. Even though he was thin, he soon became so heavy she couldn’t carry him any further. She placed him on the ground, leaned over and stared him in the eyes. “Your ma has gone to heaven to be with the angels.”
“Me too?”
“No, you can’t go with her, not yet.” Hopefully not for another sixty or seventy years. “Would you like to be my little boy from now on?”
His
brown eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know exactly how much he understood about what had happened. After a few moments he nodded.
“Good boy. We’ll be heading off to Texas in a couple of days and can leave all the sadness of New Orleans behind us.”
By the time they arrived at Madame Hazel’s, Anna was feeling decidedly nervous. What if the Creole woman decided he couldn’t stay? Spending the night at a hotel would make a big dent in her savings. Surely Madame wouldn’t mind if he shared her room. Her bed. Fortunately, it was Friday and she never had to work over the weekend.
Anna pulled open the front door, and holding Max by the hand, walked slowly toward the kitchen. Madame was leaning over the stove stirring a pot. Most Fridays they had a rich vegetable stew without meat, to cater to those of the Roman Catholic faith who didn’t eat meat on Fridays. Biscuits were also on baking, the aromas making Anna’s mouth water.
“Madame Hazel.” No point procrastinating. Better to get this over and done with now Anna thought.
The woman swung around her wooden stirring spoon raised. “Who’s he?” She gabbled a few words in French.
“It’s the little boy I’ve been telling you about.”
“What’s happened?” Madame went to her cookie jar and retrieved one for him.
Anna was surprised when he said. “Thank you.”
Quickly Anna explained what had happen to Ginny.
“Why have you got him?”
“I’m going to keep him. He has no relatives and the deputy told me the authorities would send him to an orphanage. He said he was brought up in one himself and it was terrible.” She blinked back tears. “What could I do?”
“He’s filthy.”
“I know, I could give him a bath and if you wouldn’t mind letting him share my room, I’ll take him to Texas with me.”
“You just can’t take him.”
“I can. The deputy told me if I wanted him, to take him and go. He’d say Max ran off and no-one would bother looking for him.”
Madame pursed her lips. “And your Mr. Edwards?”
“He sounds like a nice man, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind under the circumstances.” What man would turn away a small orphan boy she thought. It might be a good test to see what kind of man he really was, as they had exchanged so few letters. This thought popping into her head was somehow calming.
Deceived Mail-Order Bride Page 2
