A Reluctant Bride

by Jody Hedlund

  Most of the men had taken her news with surprising grace. She supposed the wedding and the presence of all the women had made the rejection easier to take. They’d moved on to wooing and dancing with others, leaving Mercy content to mingle with the younger girls and listen to their tales about their new positions as domestics.

  She was praying such an arrangement with a wealthy family would open up for herself. She’d be right happy being a domestic, a scullery maid, anything.

  Miss Lawrence approached, fanning herself rapidly, her delicate face flushed, framed by her rich auburn hair. The beautiful gentlewoman had been surrounded by plenty of men, including the naval officer who’d been paying particular attention to her.

  “Mercy,” she hissed as she drew near, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder. “I need to hide.”

  “Hide?” Mercy scanned the crowd. “What’s to hide from?”

  Miss Lawrence was attired in a lovely gown of deep emerald that highlighted her pale skin and the stunning color of her hair. But even as she moved nearer, Mercy could see the tension in her thin body and the fear in her eyes.

  “Please help me,” she whispered, grasping Mercy with her silky gloved hands. “Please.”

  Mercy immediately stepped aside and drew the woman into the shadows of the tapestry so that the heavy curtains nearly concealed her.

  “Is he looking this way?” Miss Lawrence asked.

  “Who?”

  “The man who just entered. The one with the bald head and red bow tie.”

  Mercy scanned the hall but found no one watching her or Miss Lawrence. There was indeed a short, balding man with a red bow tie, yet his attention was focused on one of the women of the welcoming committee.

  “I see him—he’s not paying you any heed.”

  Miss Lawrence poked her head out from behind the curtains. She watched the balding man for a moment before sagging back against the wall, the anxiety leaving her face, replaced by embarrassment. She extricated herself from the thick tapestry and took a wobbly step away from the wall.

  Without explaining any further, Miss Lawrence began to skirt the room, hurrying toward the door, clearly wanting to exit the party. Why was Miss Lawrence so flustered?

  “Come dance.” Ann’s voice interrupted Mercy’s contemplation. The girl’s face was pretty and full of life. Soon enough Ann and the other orphans would be attracting the men. But for now, Mercy was relieved that they could just be girls.

  “I’m right happy to watch you dance,” Mercy replied. “That’s enough for me.”

  But was it enough? As happy as she was for her friends, and as happy as she was to be free from Mr. Scott’s scheming, her heart had been heavy over the past couple of days. Maybe she’d be content once she had a job or was using her God-given gifts. Maybe she’d be content once Patience arrived.

  Ann whirled back into the flow of the dancers, laughing with delight. Mercy couldn’t help but think of the kind of life the girl might be living at this moment if she’d remained in London after being kicked out of the orphanage. She would’ve been homeless and probably ended up in a workhouse or brothel, where she would have wasted away.

  This had been a voyage of discovery, courage, and freedom for all of them. Mercy was grateful and yet . . .

  She sighed. As she leaned back into the tapestry again, the sight of Joseph in the wide doorway of the hall made her stomach spin like the dancers. Joseph paused in the center, a picture of elegance, distinction, and authority in his full dress coat, white vest, broad rolled collar, and silk hat.

  Though their parting at the Marine Barracks on Sunday had felt final, she’d hoped for an opportunity to see him one last time and wish him farewell. However, she hadn’t seen him at any of the festivities throughout the day and had begun to think he’d already boarded the Tynemouth.

  The ship was scheduled to leave on the morrow. The girls had gleefully remarked that Mr. Scott and his family had gone out to the Tynemouth today. They were as happy as Mercy to be free of the man’s strict control.

  Mrs. Robb and her family were present at the wedding, but the dour matron had more easily given up her role as chaperone once the ship had arrived, and now she was busy settling in and starting her own new life.

  Mercy wanted to start over, but somehow she couldn’t make herself move forward quite yet. Maybe once she said good-bye to Joseph . . .

  He peered around the room and seemed completely unaware of the attention he was drawing. Commander Verney approached him, as did several other important men who were members of the bride-ship welcoming committee. As Joseph greeted them and made conversation, his attention kept drifting.

  Was he looking for someone? Perhaps her?

  Mercy stepped out of the shadows of the tapestry and moved into the light spilling across the hall from the chandelier overhead. Did she dare cross to him? And speak to him one last time before he sailed out of her life forever?

  He stood at the opposite side of the large room. Even if he glanced in her direction, he’d never spot her through the crowd. If she wanted to say anything, she’d have to go to him.

  She took another step and was immediately bumped by a dancer. What if Joseph wasn’t searching for her? What if he had no wish to see her again? After all, if he’d wanted to talk further, he could have sought her out over the past couple of days, especially now that Mr. Scott was no longer interfering.

  She hesitated, letting another dancer collide with her, pushing her against the wall. She had no right to approach a man like Joseph. He was a titled nobleman, a wealthy lord, an important gentleman. Only the most significant of men dared mingle with him.

  For several beats of the lively tune, she held back and watched him interact with his peers. He nodded at something one of them said and spoke politely in return.

  Aye, he was a lord, but he’d also become her friend. And she couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by. She had to say good-bye, and this was likely her last chance to do so. She might not be as significant as the men, but she couldn’t forget she was just as valuable. She had worth. And she had to prove to herself she had every bit as much right to speak with Joseph as anyone else.

  She thrust away from the wall, winding her way through the crowd until at last she was close enough that he would notice her if he turned.

  His back was straight and his shoulders strong, his suit coat stretched taut at the seams. He continued to scan the dance hall even as he conversed with the gentlemen surrounding him.

  What should she do? Sidle around until she stood in his line of vision and then wait for him to acknowledge her? She swallowed the old fears that whispered she wasn’t good enough, that she’d never be his equal. She sucked in a breath and addressed him the way he’d asked of her. “Joseph?”

  He froze and then spun to face her. “There you are.” The relief in his voice and on his face reassured Mercy, even if the men on either side of Joseph raised questioning brows and peered down their noses at her.

  “Will you please excuse me, gentlemen,” Joseph said. “I must take some fresh air.”

  Without waiting for their responses, he took hold of her arm and steered her from the hall, past the crowds milling in the entrance, and out the front door.

  The night air was laden with the scents of woodsmoke and pine. After almost a week in Victoria, Mercy was still amazed by the cleanliness of the buildings, streets, and the air. With the town only a few years old, most of the buildings were new and freshly painted, standing tall with pride. Of all the businesses, Victoria boasted mostly restaurants and saloons. There seemed to be a dozen on every street.

  In spite of the vices, nothing could compare to the blackened, leaning, and terraced buildings that crowded London. The wide street before her contained a festiveness, a celebration of life that seemed to mock the desolation lurking in the narrow passageways of Nichol and other London slums.

  She allowed Joseph to lead her past the revelers and past a gathering of Chinese men standing and tal
king outside a restaurant. She was fascinated by the various groups of people who populated Victoria. The Chinese and blacks had apparently come north from San Francisco to mine for gold. She’d expected to see more native people but had learned they’d been ordered to leave the town earlier in the year at the start of a smallpox epidemic.

  Joseph stopped in front of what appeared to be a dry-goods store. The light from a nearby streetlamp glinted off the window display of tents, pots and pans, sleeping gear, mining tools, and other supplies for the miners working in the mountains across the bay on the mainland.

  “Mercy,” Joseph said, releasing her arm and taking a step away, “I’m taking passage out to the Tynemouth within the hour, and I didn’t want to depart without bidding you farewell.”

  He was leaving in an hour? Her heart wrenched in protest.

  “Forgive my intrusion,” he said. “I know you are busy and likely have no wish to see me again—”

  “That’s not true,” Mercy interrupted. “I wanted to find a way to say good-bye to you, but I didn’t know how.”

  At her admission, some of the stiffness of Joseph’s demeanor slipped away. “The Tynemouth weighs anchor tomorrow, and then we shall be on our way again, this time to the Hawaiian Islands.”

  During her days of being quarantined with Sarah, Joseph had read to her from his geography book, describing the Hawaiian Islands with great excitement. “I hope it’s as beautiful as your book made it out to be.”

  He gave a little smile, not responding with the enthusiasm she expected.

  “Will you get to visit the East Indies and China again?”

  “Eventually, yes.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, to tell her something he was looking forward to seeing, but he remained sober and quiet.

  “I’m sure you’re thrilled about reuniting with your sister Patience,” he finally remarked.

  “Mrs. Moresby doesn’t think the next ship will arrive for several more months. But she said our ship came sooner than expected, so it’s possible the Robert Lowe will make it here earlier than scheduled too.”

  “Yes, let us pray for a swift and safe journey.”

  They fell silent again, the laughter and music from the Swan Hall filling the night air.

  “Have you any prospects for employment yet?” He crossed his hands behind his back.

  “No, but something’s bound to open up right soon. It surely will.” She tried to infuse her voice with confidence. She didn’t want Joseph thinking she was worried or that he’d made a mistake in liberating her from the prospect of marriage.

  “I shall speak to the gentlemen on the welcoming committee and inquire about positions in their households.”

  She shook her head in protest. “Everyone who needs help has already taken on the younger girls. If they hire me, maybe they’ll have to let one of the girls go. And I don’t want to chance that.”

  Joseph was quiet again.

  “I’ll be right fine. You’ll see.”

  “I know you will. You’re a strong and capable woman.”

  She would miss his confidence in her abilities. No one had ever believed in her quite the same way Joseph did, not even Patience.

  Another long moment of silence spread between them. Mercy had a hundred things she wanted to say, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come.

  “If you ever have need of anything,” Joseph said haltingly, “I hope you’ll count me as your friend and contact me.”

  Although she was trying to move past her insecurities, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to contact Joseph if she had a need. Even so, his offer was as kind as always.

  “I am most sincere in my suggestion,” he added, reaching for her hands and grasping them. His gloved fingers surrounded hers firmly.

  “You’re a good man, Joseph, and I thank ye for your friendship.”

  He shook his head as if in disagreement. “You’ve thanked me now and in the past for friendship, but ’tis I who should be thanking you. I’m a better person for having met and known you.”

  “You’ve taught me to be a better person too.”

  His grip tightened on her hands. “While I am still riddled with the arrogance of my station, perhaps these years of wandering have not all been in vain. After living aboard a ship and experiencing life in new places and among different kinds of people, God’s beginning to humble me, though I still have much to learn.”

  “You are already the humblest man I’ve ever met.” In fact, she didn’t know of any other man who’d do all that Joseph had done. Perhaps Dr. Bates from the Shoreditch Dispensary. But there was still something about Joseph that was different, something that spoke of the greater things God would do through him someday.

  “Please forgive me for ever insinuating I am better than you,” he said softly.

  “’Course I will, Joseph.” She wanted to argue that he was better. But she couldn’t now, not with so little time left.

  The night air was balmy for the end of September, and a soft gust of wind brushed against Mercy’s overheated cheeks. She shivered less from the breeze than from the realization Joseph was leaving and this was the last time she’d ever see him.

  As if reading her mind, he expelled a sigh. “I regret I must be on my way. I need to return to my hotel to retrieve the last of my belongings before the boat takes me out to the Tynemouth.”

  “I understand.” She tried to speak calmly but everything within her rose up in protest, making her want to scream at him not to leave. “Then I bid you farewell.”

  She squeezed his hands and started to let go. But he didn’t release his grip. Instead, he clung to her as if he had no intention of releasing her. For just an instant, she pictured him sweeping her up in his arms, carrying her to the steamer, and sailing away with her.

  As quickly as the image came, she forced it from her mind. She couldn’t go anywhere. Not with the possibility of Patience arriving on the next bride ship. Even if she’d been free to leave, she wouldn’t let him ruin his life and future. If the gentlemen at the dance had looked down upon her, how much more would his friends and family in England despise him because of her?

  “Mercy, I—” he started, but then halted, closing his eyes and clamping his lips together. He held himself stiffly for a moment longer before pulling her closer.

  She didn’t resist but fell against him eagerly. His arms slid around her at the same time that she wrapped him into an embrace.

  With the solid length of his body against hers, she was intensely aware of his thick arms about her, his broad chest, and his heartbeat thudding in tempo with hers. When he leaned in and buried his nose into her hair, warmth spread low in her abdomen, the same pool of desire that had formed when she’d kissed him on the ship.

  If she lifted her face and gave him access, she suspected he’d kiss her. For as strong as he was, as much as he lived with integrity, their attraction was living and breathing and wouldn’t easily be put to death, even as they went their separate ways. At least it wouldn’t easily be put to death for her.

  Instead, she pressed further into his chest and breathed in his clean musky scent. His hands at her lower back spread, as though he needed to hold more of her and couldn’t quite get enough. He kissed the side of her head, his lips hard and possessive before he dropped his mouth to her ear, his breathing ragged and echoing into every limb of her body.

  “Mercy,” he whispered, longing stretching his voice taut. Was he asking her for a kiss?

  She fought against the powerful, almost overwhelming sense of being pulled forward into him. She’d come out here to say good-bye, not to complicate the matter with passion and kisses and affection. As drawn as they were to each other, indulging in a farewell kiss would only make their parting more difficult.

  “Good-bye, Joseph,” she whispered, prying her arms away from him and taking a step back.

  He visibly tensed as though he intended to draw her back into his embrace, but then he let his arms drop to his sides.r />
  A tight ache formed in her throat along with the need to cry. She didn’t want to lose him. He was her glimpse of beauty amidst the bleakness of life.

  He closed his eyes. Was he fighting his own inner battle? She guessed he was and that she could help him best if she stayed strong. That way they could both move on separate from each other.

  “I wish you well, Joseph.”

  His eyes flew open, almost frantic as he took her in. “I also wish you well.”

  The music coming from the dance hall wafted their way. Mercy didn’t want to return to the festivities. Suddenly all she wanted to do was to run back to the Marine Barracks to her bedroom and throw herself upon her bunk where she’d be alone.

  “I shall never forget you,” Joseph whispered.

  “Nor I you.” Mercy let her eyes feast upon his face one last time before spinning and walking away. With each step, she waited for him to chase after her, grab her arm, swing her around, and tell her he couldn’t live without her.

  But an instant later, when she glanced over her shoulder to the front of the dry-goods store, Joseph was gone.

  Joseph’s lungs burned. His eyes stung. And his legs wobbled.

  He wanted to fall to the ground and weep, to shout out his misery and frustration, to pound his head with his fists.

  She’d walked away. And he’d let her . . .

  Blindly he stumbled down the street, fighting the urge to turn around and sprint after her. This time he’d take her in his arms and wouldn’t let her go. He’d kiss her until they both were breathless, and then he’d kiss her again.

  But he knew he couldn’t do that. Even though everything within him wanted Mercy, especially after holding her one last time, he needed to let her go. She wanted her freedom more than she wanted him. And he loved her too much to take that away from her when it had been so hard-earned.