RNWMP: Bride for Joel

by Amelia C. Adams

  Miss Hazel reached out and patted Violet’s shoulder. “My dear, I do believe there’s a place for you. I wonder, though, if you shouldn’t speak to your parents first. If I know them at all, they’d be much more likely to support you if they felt this was a well-reasoned decision and not something determined in the middle of a tantrum.”

  “I wasn’t throwing a tantrum,” Violet protested. “I was just sticking up for myself. Probably for the first time in my life.”

  “And I wish I’d been there to see it. I’m sure it was a marvelous sight. You know, it’s the quiet ones who are the most dangerous.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m dangerous,” Violet said, but Miss Hazel held up a hand.

  “I don’t mean that you’re likely to slip arsenic into someone’s tea. I mean that once your feathers get riled, you most certainly do have something to say.”

  Violet nodded. “That sounds about right.”

  “Well, how about this. I’ll pay a call tomorrow, and we’ll sit and discuss this with your parents. I mentioned knowing your parents—I also know you well enough, Violet, to know that you couldn’t leave if there was unrest in your family. You’d overburden yourself with guilt about it.”

  “You’re right,” Violet admitted. “I wish I could be one of those people who says ‘Hang the consequences!’ and does what they feel they should do without looking back, but that’s just not who I am.”

  “You go home and get a good night’s sleep, and when I come tomorrow, we’ll have a good chat. If you’ve changed your mind in the meantime, just let me know, and I won’t bring up the topic at all. We’re going to need a signal, though—some way to pass the message to me.” Miss Hazel pondered. “Let’s say, if you’ve changed your mind, you’ll tug on your right earlobe, like this.” She demonstrated.

  “You . . . want me to tug on my ear?”

  “Yes. Just the earlobe. That will be my signal.” She gave a happy sigh. “I’ve always wanted to have a secret signal.”

  “Okay,” Violet said, a bit taken aback. She knew Miss Hazel had a fun-loving side, but she hadn’t witnessed it quite so personally before.

  “All right, then. Sleep. Think. Tomorrow is a new day—hopefully, a day without Ingrid Allan—and your perception might be entirely different.”

  “Thank you, Miss Hazel. I appreciate it so much.”

  Miss Hazel waved a hand. “Don’t give it another thought. We’ll get this figured out for you one way or another, my dear. Don’t you worry.”

  Violet said goodbye and walked outside to the carriage she had waiting. Her father employed a man just to take care of the horses and be ready to drive the family at a moment’s notice. If she became a Mountie’s wife, she wouldn’t have any such thing. Of course, she likely wouldn’t have that no matter who she married—her father was fairly wealthy, after all. She sighed and looked up at the sky. The stars were the same as they had been earlier, but she had changed. She had learned a truth about herself and had taken a courageous step to do something about it. Now it was time to see if her choice was the correct one.

  ***

  “Well, I’m all for it!” Curtis said, snapping his gum. “I could use some help around my place, and a wife would fill the bill nicely.”

  “I’m in,” Liam said quietly. “I wouldn’t mind having someone to come home to at night.”

  “And what about you, Commander?” Richard turned to George Jacobs, the older man who sat behind the desk.

  George chuckled and held up a hand. “I don’t think so. I’m far beyond my courting years, gentlemen—I’ll leave that up to you young pups.”

  “So . . . you approve?” Richard asked, just to be sure. George had filled the role of surrogate father for Richard since he was assigned here, and his opinion mattered to Richard almost as much as his own father’s did.

  George nodded. “It’s not standard Mountie practice, but a wife has a way of settling a man, and I think the three of you could use some settling.”

  Richard nodded. “All right, then. I’ll write the letter tonight. Each of you, tell me what you’re looking for in a wife.” He grabbed a pencil and jotted down their thoughts. Then he paused, trying to decide what he should ask for. This was a bit like walking into the general store and placing an order. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy—these were young ladies, not bolts of cloth—but still, what sort of wife would suit him best? He thought about it all day until he was back in his cabin and sitting down to write the actual letter. He copied down what his friends had requested, and then he added, As for me, I’d like a bride with zest for life, who enjoys laughing and won’t mind my sometimes loud ways. She should enjoy parties and socializing.

  He couldn’t think of anything else, so he signed the letter and put it in the mail. Now it was up to the powers that be, and Miss Hazel, to find the right girls to send to Flying Squirrel.

  Chapter Three

  When Miss Hazel visited the Pettit house the following day, Violet didn’t tug on her ear. She’d spent several hours thinking about it, and she’d realized that yes, she did in fact want to marry a Mountie. She put aside all her other thoughts and focused on the actual marriage aspect, realizing that she should probably evaluate how she felt about being a wife now that she’d decided she wanted to leave Ottawa, and she decided that she would like it very much. She wasn’t very good at cooking meat, but she did bake well, and it made her happy to think of baking for a kind man and perhaps even their children. Of course, she’d never dream of mentioning children to her mother. Such a thing was too shocking. As if Violet shouldn’t realize that such things happened in the world.

  Violet sat in the corner of the parlor, trying to be inconspicuous. That was rather a contradiction, given that she wanted to show her parents that she was capable of making a tough decision by herself. Miss Hazel sat on one of the chairs, and Violet’s parents sat side-by-side on the sofa.

  “And so you see, I believe Violet would be a good addition to my program, you might call it, but I wanted to talk it over with you first,” Miss Hazel concluded.

  Mr. and Mrs. Pettit both looked a little stunned. Violet was a bit afraid of what their reaction might be. She wanted them to give her their blessing, but at the same time, she secretly hoped that one of them would protest, saying that she was valued too much at home to leave.

  “I believe that Violet’s chances of happiness here in town are somewhat limited. I’m in favor of this plan if it’s what she wants.” Her father cleared his throat. “Are there any costs involved?”

  Violet blinked. That wasn’t quite the reaction she’d envisioned.

  “No costs at all. Travel expenses are paid by the groom, and I don’t collect a fee,” Miss Hazel explained. “I do this because I enjoy it.”

  Mr. Pettit nodded. “Then I say yes. Dear?” He turned to his wife. “What are your thoughts?”

  “I’ve been worried about Violet for a long time,” Mrs. Pettit replied. “She’s just so odd, her nose always in a book and her head in the clouds. She doesn’t fit in with society—perhaps she would do best in a place where society doesn’t exist the way it does here. Yes, I support this decision as well.”

  Miss Hazel nodded. “Thank you for sharing your opinions. I’ll chat with Violet a bit more, and we’ll see what happens, shall we?” She stood up. “And thank you for the delicious tea. Those tiny sandwiches were wonderful.”

  When she stepped out into the hall, Violet caught up with her. “Thank you for coming, Miss Hazel.”

  The older woman looked Violet square in the eye. “That wasn’t quite the response you were hoping for, was it?”

  Violet sighed. “Not really. I mean, I’m glad they’ve given me their blessing, but . . . it feels like they’re sending me off because I don’t fit their idea of what a daughter should be. I’d hoped that their focus would be more on my happiness, not on my suitability.”

  Miss Hazel patted her arm. “It’s all right, dear. Some parents aren’t able to say what’s really in
their hearts—they’ve never been taught how to show their emotions to their children. I’m sure they want what’s best for your happiness. My question is, are you sure this is what you feel is best?”

  Violet nodded. “I’ve approached it from every angle, and I believe this is a wise choice.”

  Miss Hazel laughed. “Maybe you need to learn how to share your emotions too. How do you feel, Violet? Don’t tell me what you think. I trust the heart over the brain anytime.”

  Violet smiled. “I feel like it’s the right thing to do.”

  “Very well, then! I’ll let you know as soon as I find the right Mountie for you.” Miss Hazel gave her a kind smile. “Everything will turn out for the best, my dear. Just keep the faith.”

  Violet watched Miss Hazel climb into her carriage and drive away. Keep the faith. She could do that. It would be nice, though, if she knew just how long she’d have to do that. She’d very much like to be able to make a plan.

  ***

  Only two weeks went by before Violet received a note from Miss Hazel telling her that she would be matched with a Mountie named Richard Murray who was stationed in Flying Squirrel in the Northern Territories. The … Northern Territories? Violet had to hold in a squeal of excitement. She was asked to bring her things to Miss Hazel’s the following Monday morning and to be prepared to undergo a week of lessons to get ready for her new tasks. She hoped Miss Hazel could teach her some things about cooking meat.

  Her mother was teary when she saw Violet packing, but she made no move to stop her. Violet decided that was likely best, although she did wish for just a little bit of . . . hmm. She wasn’t quite sure. Sorrow? Lamentation? Wailing? No, her mother wasn’t a wailer. Miss Hazel was right—her parents didn’t tend to show a lot of emotion. Why was that? Did they believe they always had to be strong and resilient? It made her think—what would her relationship with them be like if they did open up more?

  Violet placed the last of her astronomy books in her trunk and latched it tightly. Then she turned to her valise and placed two clean handkerchiefs inside. Her mother stood near the window, looking out, supposedly there to keep Violet company while she packed, but not doing a very good job of it.

  “I’ll miss you, Mother,” Violet said, wondering if she could open the door to a real conversation.

  “Oh, I’m sure that once you arrive, you’ll be so busy, you won’t have time to think about me.”

  “I mean it, Mother. I’ll miss you.”

  Mrs. Pettit turned from the window and gave her a faint smile. “It will certainly be different around here when you leave. Are you all packed, then?”

  “Yes, all but the things I’ll put in right before I go in the morning.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you at breakfast, then.” She turned and left the room, but not before Violet noticed a small tear on her cheek. It wasn’t much, and it was only visible because it glinted in the lamplight, but it was a start—her mother did care. That meant a lot.

  ***

  The week of training actually turned out to be a lot of fun. Two other girls were going out to Flying Squirrel with Violet—Caitlyn and Adele—and they made friends instantly. Miss Hazel was indeed able to show Violet some tricks when it came to cooking meat, and she successfully roasted a chicken and cooked a steak by the end of the week. Caitlyn didn’t care for those lessons—she was a vegetarian—but Violet sure appreciated them.

  When at last the time came to board the train for the Northern Territories, Violet felt prepared to walk into a home, clean it, prepare food, and decorate it. What she didn’t feel prepared for was how to hold a regular conversation with a man—one that didn’t veer off into the mysteries of the cosmos or scientific theorem. Her mother had told her over and over again that men weren’t interested in that sort of conversation from a woman, but that was all she knew how to talk about. Miss Hazel assured her that it would turn out all right, that her Mountie would appreciate her unique basket of knowledge, but Violet wasn’t sure. All she could do was exhibit some trust—holding the faith, as she’d been trying to do.

  The train ride was exhausting and never-ending. As they went farther north and the terrain changed, Violet found herself all but pressed up against the window glass, not wanting to miss a thing. The mountains became more rugged, the rivers more wild—everything seemed untamed and unexplored, and she couldn’t wait to get out and touch and see and breathe. Every particle of her being buzzed with anticipation. She smiled to herself at the thought—particles were yet another thing she couldn’t bring up at the dinner table. She found them fascinating, but in her father’s world, any discovery that recent couldn’t possibly be considered fact—it needed time to prove itself first.

  At long last, the train pulled into the Flying Squirrel station, and the girls prepared to get off and meet their Mounties. Violet swallowed hard. This was it—this was the first day of forever.

  ***

  Curtis and Richard stood on the platform, each clutching some flowers they’d brought along to present to their brides. Liam’s bunch looked terrible—he’d snatched it out of the ground a few minutes before when he realized that maybe he should have brought something too, and Richard couldn’t help but smirk. Poor girl—but Liam was a nice-enough fellow that she’d probably forgive him.

  The train pulled into the station with a long hiss, and the passengers climbed off looking a bit weary for the long journey. Richard remembered what it felt like to traipse up here, and what a relief it was to step off the train and stop feeling the ground moving beneath his feet. He felt sorry for these young ladies and hoped they’d adjust quickly.

  There they were—three younger women being escorted by an older woman in a purple dress. She moved about efficiently, lining up his friends with their brides, and then it was his turn.

  The girl she brought to stand in front of him was a sweet-faced blonde, who seemed shy to meet his gaze. Miss Hazel did all the talking, though, not allowing any silent spaces. “Richard Murray, unless I miss my guess. I’ve met each of your siblings, and I could pick you out in a blinding sandstorm.”

  “No sandstorms up here, Miss Hazel, but lots of snow.”

  She laughed. “Snowstorm, then. This is your bride, Violet Pettit.”

  Richard stepped forward and offered his bouquet to Violet. “Thank you for traveling all this way, Miss Pettit,” he said. “I hope you didn’t find the journey too boring.”

  “Boring? Oh, not at all!” Her shyness dropped away as she spoke. “It was fascinating. In fact, I’d like to make it again so I can catalogue all the different species . . .” She broke off. “It was a very pleasant trip,” she finished.

  Richard tilted his head to the side. What had she been planning to say, and why had she interrupted herself? No matter, really. He had all the time in the world to get to know her and find out what she meant. “The church is just over this way. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  The group walked over to the church, and he stood with Violet and watched as his two friends got married. All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind—first, that Miss Pettit was uncommonly pretty, and that standing so near her was quite pleasant. Second, how odd it was that within just a few minutes, he would be a married man when a month before, it wasn’t even something he’d considered. Third, how taken his friends seemed with their brides, and fourth, how proud Miss Hazel looked as she watched the ceremonies. This was all her doing, her success or her failure—he hoped she’d prove successful in his case as well.

  When it was his turn to wed Violet, he took her hand and led her up to the front of the church. Curtis and Liam had each left once their ceremonies were complete, obviously wanting to show their brides their new homes, but Miss Hazel was still there, and George, so he supposed they had guests at their wedding after all.

  Violet’s hands trembled as they repeated their vows, but she didn’t hesitate to answer with a soft “I do.” When the moment came for them to kiss, Richard hesitated. She seeme
d so nervous—would a kiss be all right? He didn’t know what to do, but she took a slight step forward and lifted her chin, and he took that as a sign that she was ready. He closed the short distance, gave her a light, sweet kiss, and then moved back. He didn’t want to, though—that brief touch told him all he needed to know. Yes, he would enjoy getting to know this young woman, and yes, he would be able to develop feelings for her. How long it would take, he didn’t know, but the possibility was very real.

  George and Miss Hazel congratulated them, and then Richard led his new wife out of the chapel and through town toward his cabin. He pointed out the general store and the restaurant, indicated the homes of a few prominent citizens of the small town, and then up to the front stoop of his house. He’d spent the previous day tidying it up, but he wasn’t sure it would meet with her approval, and he didn’t want her to run away screaming when she saw it. He hoped he’d done enough to make a real home—he quite badly wanted this girl to stay.

  Chapter Four

  Richard Murray was very handsome—there was no doubt about that. He was tall, and he had a nice smile, and he seemed quite strong. Those were all good qualities in a man. Violet hoped he found her acceptable . . . but she couldn’t stop berating herself for blurting out what she had about the species of trees on the journey. She’d stopped herself before she got carried away—the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was overly academic and boring. She had come to the Northern Territories so she would have space to be herself, but she thought it best to ease into it rather than springing it on him all at once.

  The little town of Flying Squirrel was charming. She couldn’t wait to visit the store and eat in the restaurant and meet the people Richard had pointed out as they walked. He seemed to love his post, and she was glad of that—it meant he was committed, and she liked that. A man should have a sense of purpose and belonging in his occupation, and she was glad to see that he did.