Hopes and Brides: Regency and Mail Order Bride Historical Romance Collection

by Joyce Alec

  “Did someone come to your door, Nora?” he asked gently, looking down into her blue eyes and seeing them swimming with tears. “Were you safe?”

  She nodded jerkily before drawing in a long, shaky breath. “It had to be Mr. Arbuckle,” she whispered, her hand now resting on his chest, her fingers clutching at the fabric as though that would somehow keep her safe. “He came down the stairs—I could hear the creak of the floorboards. Then, the next thing I know, someone’s turning the door handle.” Sucking in another breath, she let it out slowly, blinking back her tears. “I was so afraid, Joseph. I didn’t know what to do. I stayed in my sitting room until it was time to rise and make breakfast, and even then, I was listening for him all the time.”

  “Listening for Mr. Arbuckle?”

  Another jerky nod. “Who else could it have been?”

  A stab of worry sliced through Joseph’s heart. Nora was right. There couldn’t be anyone else, which meant that he had to make sure that Mr. Arbuckle was always with him and never at home with Nora.

  “He might have been…hoping that you were more than just a housekeeper,” Joseph said hesitantly, aware of how she blushed and felt heat enter his own cheeks as well. “It’s just the way of things in some places, and I’m sorry that he did that, Nora. I’ll make sure to have a word with him.”

  Relief etched itself on her features. “Thank you, Joseph.” She looked up at him for a moment longer before dropping her hand and making to step back, only for Joseph to remain exactly where he was.

  “You’re tired,” he said softly, unable to prevent himself from keeping ahold of her hand, suddenly caught by the intensity in her blue eyes. “You didn’t sleep last night?”

  She shook her head, her gaze darting from one place to the next, as he sighed heavily, pressing her hand.

  “Then you need to get some sleep, Nora. Can you rest during the day?”

  A tight smile tugged at her lips. “I have a lot to do today, I’m afraid. If I sleep, there won’t be much for dinner tonight!”

  He chuckled, and to his delight, the tightness left her lips and she looked back up at him with a little more warmth to her expression.

  “Then can I pick something up to help you?” he asked, seeing her eyes flare for a moment. “I’d be happy to do that.”

  There was a short pause, only for her to shake her head slowly. “Thank you for thinking of me with such kindness, Joseph, but I ain’t about to let Mr. Arbuckle affect my work.” Something like resoluteness pulled at her expression, and she stood a little taller, no longer cowed. “I’ve been scared all last night and even this morning, but now that I’ve told you, I need to just get on. You’ll make it clear to him that I ain’t that kind of woman, won’t you?”

  He nodded fervently, squeezing her hand one last time before letting it go. “Of course I will.”

  “Thank you.” She walked towards the door, her shoulders straight and head held high. “I’ve got a lot to do today, so I’d best get going. Besides, if you’re keeping Mr. Arbuckle with you, then I ain’t got anything to be afraid of, do I?”

  Hurrying towards his bedroom door, Joseph fished for the ring of keys that was in his pocket, asking Nora to wait for a moment. He had to spend some time finding the right one, but finally, he managed to hand it to her, feeling a little more settled within himself.

  “That’s the key for the front door of the house,” he said quietly, seeing her face furrow with confusion. “It’s not often locked, and—in fact—I only lock it up at night before I go to bed, but I want you to feel safe here. Lock the door when you’re inside, and even if Mr. Arbuckle escapes from me and tries to come back here, he won’t be able to get in. You ain’t obliged to open the door to anyone except me. Do you understand?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes awash with a sea of sparkling tears, and nodded, taking the key from him with gentle fingers.

  “You’re awful kind to me, Joseph,” she said softly, her eyes lowering to the floor. “I didn’t expect such consideration.”

  “I promised you I’d keep you safe,” he said slowly, suddenly aware that there was, perhaps, more going on in his heart and mind than he wanted to admit. “And I meant it. I don’t want you to be afraid and leave to work somewhere else.”

  “No?”

  Her gaze was suddenly fixed on his, her expression open and questioning, and Joseph was caught with such an uncomfortable feeling that he was forced to turn his head away, reaching for the bedroom door handle. “I’d never be able to find someone who cooks as well as you, Nora.”

  Something in her seemed to fade, and she nodded, her smile slipping. “Oh. Of course. Thank you, Joseph. I’ll be on my way now.”

  “I’ll find the spare key for the front of the house, so you don’t need to worry about unlocking it in time for me to get back from the shop,” he said as she left the room, stumbling over his words. “Thank you, Nora.”

  She didn’t reply, walking away from him and back towards the stairs that would take her down to the kitchen. Joseph let his gaze linger on her, a little confused as to why he felt so foolish. Everything he’d said had been true. He would miss her cooking if she left to find another job, so—of course—he wanted her to stay here.

  Is that all?

  A quiet voice began to prod his mind with questions, questions he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He didn’t want to admit that the urge to draw her into his arms and hold her there had been almost overpowering. He didn’t want to think about how soft her hand had been in his.

  Rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, Joseph stepped back into the bedroom and went in search of his jacket and hat. He didn’t want to have Mr. Arbuckle waiting for him, not when it meant he might go in search of Nora.

  Swallowing hard, Joseph realized that Mr. Arbuckle, for whatever reason, had every intention of going into Nora’s room. Why was that? Was it really, as he’d said to Nora, because he thought she might be handing out her favors as well as keeping house for Joseph? It wouldn’t be the first time that a man had thought something like that, or the first time that a hired help had been willing to let the man of the house warm her bed. Surely, Mr. Arbuckle would have at least asked Joseph whether Nora was that sort of woman before going down to her bedroom late at night. Wouldn’t he?

  His gut twisted, as though it had been jabbed with a sharp knife. Regardless of Mr. Arbuckle’s reasons, he was going to have to make it clear that the man was to stay away from Nora. He was more determined than ever to keep her safe, even if it meant finding Mr. Arbuckle a different place to stay while he was here in town.

  Jamming his hat on his head, Joseph glanced at himself in the mirror one last time, aware that his expression was stern, his countenance grave. Mr. Arbuckle might have tried to do all he could to stay in the house today, but he would soon discover that Joseph was not the kind of man who could be easily persuaded one way or the other. Either Mr. Arbuckle did as he was asked, or he could leave Joseph’s house altogether.

  7

  “And you even open your store on Saturday?”

  Joseph grimaced as he and Mr. Arbuckle walked towards the general store for what was the third day in a row. Tomorrow, at least, was Sunday which meant that they would be spending most of the day at home, aside from going to church, which was something Joseph usually looked forward to. However, given the strain in the house over Mr. Arbuckle’s behavior towards Nora, Joseph wasn’t looking forward to having a day there together.

  “Yes, we open on a Saturday, but only for a few hours,” he explained, tipping his hat to a passerby. “There’s always people needing something, and it’s best for business if we keep the store open six days a week.”

  Mr. Arbuckle sighed heavily, a pained expression written on his face. “And when does this ‘Billy’ of yours come back?”

  “Monday.”

  “Good,” Mr. Arbuckle muttered, tilting his hat a little further down his forehead to hide the glare of the sun. “Then I won’t need to come with yo
u again on Monday.”

  Joseph frowned, a knot in his stomach. “What is it you’re intending to do?”

  Glancing over at him, Mr. Arbuckle shrugged. “Rest. Walk about this town whenever I please. Talk to folk. Get to know this town that my cousin loved so much.” One eyebrow shot up to his hairline as he arched his brow. “I just want a bit of freedom from being under your watchful eye, if that ain’t too much to ask.”

  Holding his tongue, Joseph kept silent until they reached the general store. The time it took him to open up the place gave him time to think about what Mr. Arbuckle had said.

  “I ain’t blind, Joseph,” Mr. Arbuckle continued quietly. “I know you’ve been keeping me in sight since the minute I got here. Is something the matter?”

  Joseph sighed and opened the door, gesturing for Mr. Arbuckle to step inside. “Yes, there is,” he said firmly, leaving the door open so that he could sweep out some of the sand that had been pushed in overnight by the wind. “You’ve been frightening my hired help half to death.”

  There was no sound, no response, nothing but silence as Joseph looked back at Mr. Arbuckle, who was looking at him with a sharp gaze.

  “Nora came to me three days ago,” Joseph continued when it became obvious that Mr. Arbuckle wasn’t about to reply. “She told me that someone was trying to get into her room a few nights ago. Someone walked down the stairs and turned her door handle.” It had been three days since Nora had told him everything, but Joseph hadn’t been as direct as this in his conversations with Mr. Arbuckle.

  Mr. Arbuckle shrugged, leaning against the counter lazily. “I just thought she might be willing to….”

  “Well, you’re wrong on that count,” Joseph interrupted angrily. “She ain’t that sort of woman.”

  Sighing, Mr. Arbuckle took off his hat, set it on the counter, and rubbed his forehead. “You can’t blame a man for trying. There are plenty of housekeepers around my hometown that would be welcoming you into their beds.”

  “Nora ain’t one of them,” Joseph replied sharply. “I don’t want to lose her and so, yes, I’ve been making sure to keep you where I can see you. I don’t know you particularly well, and I ain’t that comfortable in letting you wander about my house with only Nora inside. Do you understand?”

  His breathing was a little ragged, such was the anger that suddenly burned through him, his hands clenching around the broom handle.

  Waving a hand, Mr. Arbuckle pushed himself up from the counter, his expression neither frustrated nor upset.

  “You don’t need to worry about that no longer,” he said firmly, picking up his hat and dusting it off. “I won’t go near her again. You can tell her I’m sorry for upsetting her, unless you want me to talk to her myself?”

  Joseph shook his head, still feeling completely unsettled.

  “Then I’ll make sure to keep myself away from the house and spend my days in town,” Mr. Arbuckle continued firmly. “Will that suit you?”

  There wasn’t anything Joseph could say. There was no way to disagree with Mr. Arbuckle and insist that he stay at the general store on Monday after Billy returned to work.

  “I guess,” he said slowly. “But don’t you go speaking to Nora. I’ll talk to her myself.”

  Mr. Arbuckle shrugged. “Suits me,” he said nonchalantly. “Now, I’d best get on and make myself useful around here. Is it the orders you want me to do today?” He made to walk into the back, but Joseph shook his head, gesturing for him to come back.

  “Just stay at the counter, why don’t you?” he said, beginning to brush the sand out of the front door. “You’ll take care of the customers for me, and I’ll sort out the orders.” Even with Mr. Arbuckle’s assurances, Joseph still didn’t want to leave him on his own in the back of the store, where he couldn’t see or hear him. Besides which, there was a back door that led back outside, which meant that Mr. Arbuckle could easily slip out if he wanted.

  Mr. Arbuckle chuckled darkly. “You’re still not all that sure about me, are you? Let me just go and hang up my hat, and then I’ll be right where you want me.”

  Joseph didn’t reply. Turning his back on the gentleman and carrying on with his sweeping, he was filled with a sudden, fiery determination. Mr. Arbuckle wasn’t going to just get to do as he pleased, not where Joseph was concerned. He had his own life to live, his business to take care of, and having a guest that clearly intended to stay for some time was already beginning to grate on him.

  “Mr. Arbuckle,” he said abruptly, picking up the broom and following the man to the back of the shop. “Might I ask you how long you intend to stay?”

  Mr. Arbuckle’s back was to Joseph, and as Joseph spoke, he saw that Mr. Arbuckle’s shoulders slumped, as though he was disappointed with Joseph’s question.

  “Do you not have anything pressing at home which requires your presence?” Joseph continued, not afraid of making it plain to Mr. Arbuckle that he didn’t particularly care for the idea of having a guest staying for an overly long visit.

  Mr. Arbuckle shrugged out of his jacket, brushed it down with long, delicate fingers before hanging it up on a nearby peg. Then he turned towards Joseph, his lips flattening as he spoke.

  “You don’t want me hanging around?”

  Joseph lifted his chin, not afraid to speak openly. “Mr. Arbuckle, it ain’t as though I’m not grateful you came all this way to pay your respects to my late father, but the truth is, I’ve got a business to run and a life to get on with. Without being crass, you’re in the way of that, and it’s best I know how long you’re intending to stay so I can organize the next few days around that.”

  “Then I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you,” Mr. Arbuckle replied, with a shrug. “I ain’t sure how long I’m going to be staying in this here town. Now, I don’t have to be staying with you, if it’s that much trouble, since I hear the boarding house is in fairly decent condition.”

  For a moment, Joseph didn’t know what to say. He wanted to take up Mr. Arbuckle on his suggestion, but the vision of his father suddenly jumped into his mind. This was his father’s cousin after all. He was family. He’d promised to stay away from Nora and had admitted to making a mistake. Perhaps he was judging the man too harshly.

  “That won’t be necessary,” he muttered, his mind a little unsettled as he saw Mr. Arbuckle smile. “But if I hear that you’ve bothered Nora in any way, then that night will be your first night in the boarding house.”

  Mr. Arbuckle inclined his head, his dark eyes gleaming. “That’s mighty considerate, Joseph,” he replied quietly. “And yes, I’ll make sure to stay away from Nora, as I’ve already said. It was a mistake; that’s all. It won’t happen again, I assure you. You ain’t got nothing to worry about.”

  “I sure hope so,” Joseph muttered, hearing the sound of voices come towards the front of the shop. “You’d best get on.”

  Mr. Arbuckle nodded, putting a bright smile on his face as he walked past Joseph, leaving him standing in the back of the shop, his hands clenched into fists. Somehow, Mr. Arbuckle had managed to convince him that he wasn’t going to go near Nora again, which meant that from Monday, he’d be roaming the town of Crestview alone. Joseph had also managed to agree that he could stay in his home for as long as he intended to visit, which he had not meant to do. Closing his eyes, Joseph pushed down his frustration and annoyance, realizing that he’d allowed his sense of obligation towards his father’s family to overtake everything else.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he told himself, turning around to see if he could find the order book that was usually lying around. “Nora’s got one front door key, and I’ve got the other. Even if Mr. Arbuckle wanted to go back to the house, he couldn’t.”

  That, at least, brought him a small satisfaction. He’d still be able to keep his promise to Nora to keep her safe, even though he himself wasn’t exactly happy with the thought of not knowing where Mr. Arbuckle was during the long hours of the day. There was something about him that Joseph didn’t trust—
whether it was because his father had never mentioned a relative named Mr. Arbuckle, even though they had supposedly met some years ago, or whether it was simply the dislike he had for the man for going after Nora like that, Joseph couldn’t say. Whatever the reason, there was certainly a growing sense of mistrust.

  Sighing, Joseph picked up the order book and ran his finger down the list of all the goods that would be coming by train later that afternoon. He’d have to make sure to be there with the wagon to collect them all. Before that, he had various things to set out in preparation for customers to pick up, whether it was Mrs. Johnston’s new dress fabric, ordered all the way from New York, or Mr. Turner’s barrel of gunpowder, the general store had it all. And if they didn’t, then they could order it in.

  Joseph smiled to himself as he sat down to read through the orders, the voice of his father floating through his mind. In the years he’d run the general store, he’d never once been unable to fulfill any kind of request. No matter what it was someone was looking for, Peter Shaw had always been able to get it. That was what made them so well known, what made them thrive in this town. He wasn’t about to let that change, not even with Mr. Arbuckle’s presence.

  Flicking through the pages to look back at some of the order, Joseph’s eye was caught by something unusual. Something that didn’t look like either Billy’s scrawl or his own, neater handwriting.

  Instead, it looked to be something like his father’s writing.

  Except it didn’t make sense. In large letters, written over the top of one particular order, were the words: Death of her sister.

  He frowned, reading them over again. Death of her sister? What did that mean? And why had his father – if it was his father’s writing – written something like that over the top of someone else’s order.

  His brow furrowed as he looked at the order written underneath the large letters. It was for a Miss A. Waterstone, which was a name Joseph didn’t recognize. It wasn’t someone that had ever come to the general store as far as he knew.