Jenny's Secret Diary (Brides 0f Pelican Rapids Book 7)

by Lisa Prysock

  “And this is our llama named Rob Roy,” Zane introduced when they moved to the neighboring cage beside the chimpanzee. Jenny and Ella chuckled. What funny names Zane bestowed upon his animals.

  “What’s this one?” Josiah asked, turning to look at the larger cage across from Rob Roy and General Custer.

  “Oh, that’s Michelangelo’s cage,” Dr. Beckham answered as a zebra came into view. “He likes to hide among the trees in his cage sometimes.” The zebra’s cage was filled with all sorts of exotic trees growing in large buckets, barrels, and tubs.

  They noticed a few deer roamed freely in the grassy area. They came up to them and sniffed their hands. One of the workers handed them tin cups of dried corn kernels and they happily fed the deer. The two deer ate the corn right out of their palms. Zane explained they were named George and Martha. They weren’t as skittish like most deer she’d seen before. They seemed accustomed to eating the dried corn from their hands. The pair of deer roamed freely within the fenced area, content to graze on the wide span of lawn available to them.

  Next was a common milking cow named Lily who according to Zane, moo’d at midnight each evening. “If I am very quiet, I am sometimes able to hear Lily from inside the house, or on the terrace. My manager, Henry, tells me she is more accurate than a clock.”

  “How peculiar and funny,” Ella chuckled as she inspected Lily’s stall. “Does Lily graze well with the deer?”

  Zane chuckled. “An excellent question, Ms. Milton. She does, but we notice she maintains a space from them and they from her. Henry alternates giving Lily, and then George and Martha, turns in a special pasture we’ve fenced in for them. It has a much higher fence to prevent the deer from leaping away. This helps us keep Lily separate from the other cows since she is different and has adapted to this environment.”

  “That makes sense,” Ella nodded, patting the cow’s head.

  On the other side of the circular compound, they exited the fenced area as a large cage came into view containing a white tiger, leaving the deer to roam on the grass. Another cage contained a black bear cub, and a few empty cages awaited more animals. The white tiger fascinated Jenny. She’d never seen one up close before.

  “Oh my goodness! Look at its size!” she exclaimed, glad she was a safe distance away from the cage as she peered at the tiger’s sharp teeth when it yawned.

  Josiah let out a low whistle, earning a stare from the white Bengal. “So this is what was in those canvas covered boxes that came to town. Everyone in town has been trying to guess, but your hired drivers would whisk the boxes away from the train docking platform on a wagon before anyone could peek.”

  Zane nodded. “They did as I had asked so as not to alarm anyone. White Bengal tigers can grow rather large. This one weighs about five-hundred pounds and is almost nine feet in length. Did you know no two tigers have the same pattern of stripes? Their stripes are like our fingerprints. The white tiger has no pigmentation in its fur, and they are rare when compared to the orange tiger. His name is Miles because he came all the way from India.”

  “I had no idea about these white tigers, and the bear cub is adorable,” Jenny remarked as she moved along to observe the cub.

  Zane introduced them to the cub. “This is Belinda. She loves fish, berries, leaves, and roots. She is the only animal in the menagerie native to Minnesota. I captured her myself on a hunting expedition with a fellow doctor.”

  “How does one capture a bear?” Ella gasped. “Or a tiger for that matter?”

  Josiah and Zane looked at each other and chuckled.

  “Very carefully,” Josiah replied as he studied the bear.

  “That’s a story for another time,” Zane added. “It is probably time to take you back to the house so you can head home before it’s too late. ‘Tis already grown dark outside.” The workers were lighting a few lanterns around the inside of the stone walls in the rotunda.

  “A good idea,” Ella agreed, looking at the elegant timepiece pinned to her white blouse.

  “Before we go, may I ask what animals you are planning to fill these cages with?” Jenny ran her fingers along the bars of one of the empty cages.

  “I’m hoping for an alpaca, a white cockatoo, a pelican, and a galah someday,” Zane admitted. “Maybe an elephant or a giraffe.”

  They smiled and Ella replied, “I am so impressed, Zane. I confess I had no idea about your surprise whatsoever.”

  Jenny nodded. “I knew you liked animals from your letters, but this has far exceeded my expectations. I thought you meant traditional, domestic stock.”

  Zane tucked a thumb into the vest pocket beneath his open coat and looked somewhat ashamed for not having revealed his secret, prized animals sooner. “I will show you my traditional stock another time. I’m sure you’d enjoy a tour of my stables since you’re from a horse farm. I intended to show it to you this evening after dinner, or perhaps a longer stroll in the rose garden instead of a brief look around, but this tour seemed to have ideal timing.” Turning to Ella, he added, “If Jenny and I are to be married, it is important she sees all sides of me.”

  Ella nodded. “I cannot agree more, Dr. Beckham. A good marriage is built on honesty and integrity.”

  Jenny’s conscience was pricked and she looked down, pretending to be preoccupied with smoothing her skirts. She didn’t know how much longer she could contain her own secret. However, as they walked back toward the mansion on the long path through the trees leading to the stable yard—a shorter way of reaching the menagerie than taking the road off the side of the main drive, Zane had assured them—she found her mind was swirling from everything she’d seen that evening.

  She had much to digest. Her secret somehow paled in comparison to the magnificence of everything else around her. She was accustomed to the large halls, dining rooms, mansions, and the homes of Kentucky’s finest Lexington families, but Zane’s situation was among the grandest she’d ever seen and far more unique. It all needed polishing and a woman’s touch. Some of it was a blank palette, waiting for her to choose the fabrics, carpets, drapes, portraits, modern conveniences, and fine furnishings to fill the mansion. Apparently this was what God intended to fall upon her shoulders.

  Her mind raced with so many thoughts, she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going, unable to keep up with the others. Although Zane carried a lantern to light the way, as she was so far behind the little group, the light didn’t extend far enough to illuminate her footing. When she stepped in some sort of divot where a clump of sod was missing, her ankle twisted. “Oh dear, my ankle!” she cried out, landing on her rear in a grassy patch, her ankle trapped beneath the weight of her body. Her hands faced out behind her back to support herself from being splayed flat. By the time she’d recovered from the shock of her fall, the doctor was at her side.

  “Are you hurt, Miss Lindford? Let me have a look at your ankle. Is it this one?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes.

  She gulped and nodded, blinking back the tears from the pain searing through her ankle. In addition to the pain, she felt clumsy. She should’ve been paying more attention.

  “Oh dear,” Ella sighed. “At least we have Dr. Beckham with us.”

  “Josiah, hold the lantern, please,” Zane said, handing it to him.

  Josiah cooperated while Dr. Beckham’s strong, gentle hand inspected her ankle. “Does this hurt?” he asked. He moved it this way and that, likely checking for any broken bones.

  She nodded, offering a weak, “Yes.”

  “Well, you have tiny ankles, so that probably didn’t help any, but nothing is broken,” he said. “It appears you have a bad sprain. Put your arms around my neck. I’ll carry you to the carriage. You’ll need to put some ice on it for the duration of the ride home. Alternate every ten or fifteen minutes with ice, warmth, ice, warmth.”

  Jenny nodded again and clasped her hands around his neck. He was on bended knee, so it wasn’t much trouble to lift her into his arms as he stood up. “Thank you, Dr.
Beckham.”

  “You weigh a feather,” he remarked. “Now let’s get you back to the carriage. We’re almost there, and I’ll see that some ice is brought out before you are on your way.”

  Being held close to the doctor’s strong chest, she couldn’t help but feel safe in his arms, and more aware than ever of how handsome he was. Reaching the carriage the servants had readied, he placed her inside after Josiah opened the door. Then he had one of his employees bring ice and bandages. He wrapped her ankle and applied the ice. “Try to elevate it, and in a day or two, it should feel good as new.”

  “Th-thank you, Dr. Beckham,” she replied, still feeling embarrassed about her fall, and yet intrigued, as well as dazzled by her doctor. She hadn’t expected to become his patient so rapidly.

  Soon they were on their way, and her thoughts returned to all of the things she’d seen and experienced that evening. As for the matter of General Custer and Leo Tolstoy joining them at dinner, it really should be stopped. As the Milton carriage rumbled along, carrying them toward Ella’s home, something told her it might be an argument best saved for after the wedding. This man owned a real live, honest to goodness, zoo—as they called it in London. He might be more sensitive about this topic than others, but surely he understood polite society did not eat with their animals drawn up to the table. Ma would have turned him out of his own house. Furthermore, one did not simply forget to pray before a meal to bless the food and thank the Lord above for it. Heathens did thus and so. She could hear Mama’s voice echo this truth in her memory banks clear as a bell, almost as if Mrs. Myra Lindford was riding in the carriage with them. Hopefully it had merely been an oversight. I hope you know what you’re doing, Lord.

  Chapter 7

  Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord Himself, is my strength and my defense; He has become my salvation. Therefore you will joyously draw water from the springs of salvation.

  Isaiah 12:2-3, NIV

  ZANE HAD PROMISED TO call upon Jenny to discuss their wedding plans in a few days. He wanted her to have some time to rest her ankle, and also time to think about the kind of wedding she’d like to have. This was fine with her as she’d had a long journey from Kentucky and much excitement since her arrival. These were his words to her when they’d parted after the dinner and tour of his home. She’d almost started to tell him her secret at one point during the walk toward the menagerie, and another point during the meal, but both times, someone else had started up another conversation. Then it was time to go. Josiah had wanted to return to the Milton farm before it grew much later, and it was already dark outside when he’d been tending her ankle. She’d allowed Zane to kiss her hand when they’d parted and place her into the carriage, but the opportunity to tell him about her writing had been squashed.

  Her ankle felt much better in the morning. The swelling was gone, and although it was a little sore and lightly bruised, she felt fine. After breakfast, Jenny spent the morning upstairs in the privacy of her violet bedroom, editing the article she’d written in her journal over the past few weeks. She thought it was one of her finest and most moving pieces. It needed to be. The letter she’d read on the train from her friend had deeply disturbed her. Something had to be done. This article was her response.

  She copied the entire article from her journal with her best edits onto a clean sheet of paper, and then signed her pen name to it with a final flourish, Harriett Harper. When it was dry, she placed it into an envelope and addressed it. Then she prayed over it. Now it was ready to mail to her publisher, Matlock & Jones Syndication Company of New York. She also had a letter ready to send to Mama. She could hardly wait to sit down and write a letter to her friend Laura Clay and tell her of this. Laura, in particular, would be happy to hear about this particular article when it published. She patted the envelope and said, “This is for you my dear friend, Laura Clay.”

  It was a perfect day to go to town and explore. The sun was warm, and the air refreshing, but not too chilly. Summer was nearly in full force. She had much to think about, and though Ella offered to accompany her into Pelican Rapids, Jenny declined.

  “The fresh air and some time alone to think about our wedding will be good for me,” she told the matron.

  She’d asked the matchmaker why she preferred to be addressed as Ms. Milton at breakfast that morning, seeing as how the abbreviation was not common. Ella had taken no offense at the question. She’d explained she didn’t want to be addressed as Widow Milton, and yet wanted others to know she was independently single without bringing up the specific word of widow, which she wasn’t particularly fond of for herself. She also saw herself as the lady of her household, as well as the Mistress and sole proprietress of her matchmaking trade, after all. Thus, the abbreviated title of Ms. as opposed to Mrs. suited her just fine, though few women of their time used it anymore. She’d gone on to explain how back in her mother’s day, Mistress meant the Mistress of a household, much like someone might be called Master of Arms, or such and such trade. While her trade was matchmaking, the abbreviation of Ms. suited her preference and kept the tradition alive.

  Ella went on to say she’d rather felt stripped of her identity as a woman by using Mrs. when she’d first married and had to become accustomed to using her husband’s first and last name on formal correspondence, as Mrs. Peter Milton. Part of her had been excited about the Mrs. title at the time, but another part of her, not so much. Nodding, Jenny could now understand perfectly well why Ella preferred it. She’d thanked her for explaining. Her attention turned back to the conversation they were now having in the entrance hall about her going off on an expedition to explore the town.

  “Of course, I understand you’d prefer some time alone,” Ella was saying. “Do take the horse and buggy. I’m sure Josiah will be happy to hitch up Fanny for you,” Ella insisted. “She’s a steady, reliable horse who can be trusted. We’ll serve dinner at seven.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Milton,” she replied, thankful for the offer of the horse and buggy. “I’m sure I’ll return by then.” Jenny glanced in the hallway mirror to be sure she’d pinned her lavender hat on properly. Zane had sent more flowers, and since she still had fresh ones in her bedroom, these she’d left in the entry area for the household to enjoy. Then, clutching her journal, the two letters, and her drawstring purse, she stepped onto the front porch.

  A short, pleasant drive later, she’d handed her letters to the postal clerk inside the Carter’s General Store and felt a great burden lift from her shoulders. She sighed, thankful to have made her deadline. Still clutching her leather-bound journal, she hadn’t trusted the idea of leaving it in the buggy while she explored the store on Oak Street. She’d secured the horse and buggy to the hitching post outside, and gone inside to mail her letters and have a look around. Now, a lady who looked to be perhaps in her early forties inspected her letters.

  “Ah, New York. My Mandy lives in New York. She’s married to a dentist,” the lady behind the window said after she held one of the letters up to the light and read the address. “My oldest is named Jenny, too.”

  Jenny thought the clerk was overstepping her boundaries and venturing far too closely into her personal business. “Uh, is that so?” she replied weakly, hoping the woman would lower her voice before everyone in the store heard her remarks. Looking around, she saw a number of other customers glance over at her. Jenny pulled her lavender shawl closer around her elbows and turned back to hear the cost for the stamps. Perhaps next time she’d go to the actual post office building nearby. Maybe the workers there were trained to be a bit more professional.

  “That will be twelve cents,” the clerk announced. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in Pelican Rapids before. You must be new in town. I’m Mrs. Carter. My husband and I own the store if you need help finding anything.”

  Jenny opened her reticule and fished out her coin purse to count out the correct amount of change while Mrs. Carter chatted on. Handing her the coins, she
added, “Thank you, Mrs. Carter. ‘Tis very nice indeed to make your acquaintance.”

  “Oh, here comes my oldest daughter, Jenny. I’ll introduce you. She suffered a terrible chill this winter and had a sniffle these past few months. It simply would not go away. I send her over to see Dr. Beckham nearly every day,” Mrs. Carter explained as a little bell rang when the door opened. “Now that my Jenny has returned, I’ll be able to go back to my counter with Amy, my youngest daughter.”

  Mrs. Carter beckoned her daughter to the postal corner, stepping out from behind the window and counter to introduce her. “Miss Lindford, right? This is my daughter, Miss Jenny Carter. Jenny dear, this is Miss Lindford. Her first name is Jenny, also.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Carter.” Jenny nodded, as did Mrs. Carter’s daughter, who appeared flustered.

  “Likewise,” Miss Carter replied with a bob as she looked for a place to set her basket down.

  “Did you ask the doctor to take your temperature as I instructed?” Mrs. Carter peered inside the empty basket and grinned. “I see Dr. Beckham accepted the gift of your freshly baked apple pie.”

  Miss Carter blushed lightly, pushing a pair of eyeglasses up on her nose. “Yes, he said thank you.” Miss Carter didn’t appear to be ill or to have a temperature, but one could never be too careful about such things, Jenny reminded herself as she observed the mother and daughter.

  “Of course he did! Did you not hear him say how delicious your pies are the last time he stopped in our store? Silly girl.” Mrs. Carter shook her head and leaned toward Jenny while her daughter settled in behind the window to take the next postal customer. “He loves my daughter’s apple pie. She bakes him one several times a week, and a number of other goodies. He never refuses her gifts. I think he’s finally about to ask her to marry him. They should be engaged before the week is out.”