With You Always (Orphan Train Book #1)

by Jody Hedlund

  Elise gripped Miss Pendleton’s hand with her gloved one. “I’ve been blaming myself too. But the fact is, we did all we could. Blaming ourselves won’t change anything, except to make us each more miserable.”

  Over the past few days she’d realized that self-blame was much like bitterness. It was a heavy burden to carry. She’d berated and belittled herself numerous times since getting the news about Olivia and Nicholas being sent west and Sophie running away, yet she’d come to the conclusion the blame would only fester and cause more problems. Though the thought of Sophie living on the streets tore her heart with fresh anguish every time she pictured it, she had to keep a level head.

  “Go on up to your sister.” Miss Pendleton squeezed Elise’s hand and offered her a ghost of a smile. “Maybe seeing you will do her some good.”

  Elise glanced at the front door, to the fading light of the winter evening. The hours were ticking away. If she visited with Marianne, would she still have time to catch a cab and make it to Thornton before he married Rosalind?

  Did she even want to?

  Her heart pounded a resounding yes. She didn’t want him to marry Rosalind without talking with him one last time. But another part of her cautioned her to let him go, that if he’d really wanted to marry her, he would have fought harder for her. It was the same debate she’d had during the entire train ride. The noise of the inner argument had only grown louder until at times it was deafening.

  With a deep wavering breath, she started down the hallway. As she climbed the stairs, she tried to ignore the clamoring telling her to turn around and head directly to the Quincy mansion, as Mr. Gray had instructed. All of her friends back in Quincy expected her to go to Thornton and help him win the contest by marrying him. Even Reinhold expected it of her. Could she really let them down?

  The faint sounds of laughter and talking drifted from the second floor dining room along with the aroma of beef and onions, which brought back bittersweet memories of this past summer when she and Marianne sewed in the workshops. It had been difficult work and a stressful time without a true home, but at least they’d had each other.

  Elise moved past the landing and continued to the third floor. Her steps slowed with the weight of guilt that came pressing back upon her. When she came to the last stair, she stopped. The scent of fresh paint met her. From the smooth bright white on the repaired and patched walls to the scrubbed floors and ceilings, the living area was vastly improved from what it had been the first day Miss Pendleton brought them here.

  Elise attempted to gather her courage and tiptoed down the hallway until she came to their room. She hesitated a moment, listening for any sounds within. Hearing nothing, she stared at the doorknob. Maybe Miss Pendleton had been mistaken about Marianne being here. Maybe she was out looking for Sophie, which, according to Miss Pendleton, Marianne spent hours doing each day.

  Elise touched the cold, brass knob. Was this silence her sign she should have visited Thornton first? She shook her head, and before she could change her mind and leave the mission, she opened the door.

  In the dimness of the room, lit only by the fading evening light coming in the window, Elise’s attention landed first on the dresser and the item in the center—the only thing that decorated the sparse room. A music box with the figurine of a goose girl. Her mind filled with images of Mutti dying on the dirty mattress in Uncle’s tenement, of how with her last ounce of energy she’d given them each a treasured possession.

  Elise fingered her ring, Mutti’s wedding band. The cross at the center had been Mutti’s real gift to her. Mutti had wanted her to know God had taken all her burdens upon himself so she could live in freedom from guilt and bitterness and anything else that might come to shackle her.

  An ache formed in her throat. Thank you, Mutti. I’ve finally realized what you’d been wanting for me all along. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’m on the right path.

  As her gaze lingered on Marianne’s treasure, the ache rose and pricked her eyes. If only she’d modeled a true trust in God, maybe then her sisters wouldn’t have felt so alone, so scared, so lost.

  The shifting and creaking in the bed drew Elise’s attention away from the dresser. Blankets were piled high over a form in the bed. Elise crossed to it and sat down on the edge. The mattress sagged beneath her.

  She waited for Marianne to throw off the covers and jump up. But the form didn’t move, not even a twitch.

  “Marianne?”

  Still nothing. Was her sister asleep? Elise placed her hand on what felt like Marianne’s shoulder, only to have the girl scoot away from her touch.

  Elise tugged on the covers in an attempt to pull them down, but Marianne clung to them tightly, keeping them pulled over her head. “Go away.” Marianne’s voice was muffled, followed by a sob.

  The sob reached deep inside Elise and broke her heart. “Oh, Marianne.” She leaned into her sister, and although layers of blankets separated them, she wrapped her arms about the girl.

  Another sob came from beneath the blankets, this one filled with all the agony and desolation of a young woman having to bear a burden too heavy for her.

  “Marianne, sweet Marianne,” Elise said into the covers, her insides tearing apart with the thought of all the worry and responsibility Marianne had borne the past couple of weeks.

  “I’m so sorry,” Marianne said through broken sobs. “I’ll understand if you hate me—”

  “I don’t hate you.” Elise’s voice cracked, and suddenly she realized she was weeping too. Tears streaked her cheeks and dampened the blanket beneath her face. “I could never hate you. Never.”

  Marianne’s frail body shook, and her deep cries brought fresh tears to Elise’s eyes, so that for a long moment she could only hold her sister and rock back and forth, crying for all the losses they’d experienced, all the heartache, all the injustice life had handed them. Even though she knew God was with her, she also sensed that she needed to grieve finally, to allow herself to feel the hurt to the fullest, and to know that He was there feeling her pain right along with her.

  When at last Marianne’s sobs quieted, Elise tugged on the blanket again. This time Marianne didn’t resist. The blanket fell away, and she turned toward Elise with her splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes. The face was the most beautiful sight in the world. And the brown eyes peering into hers were a welcome relief.

  Elise brushed the tears from Marianne’s cheeks, only to have them replaced with more. “I love you, Marianne. We’ll get through this together, I promise.”

  Marianne’s arms came out from underneath the blankets, and this time she initiated the hug. She wrapped her arms around Elise as though she never planned to let go. For several long minutes, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms just as they once did when they were little girls snuggled together in the bedroom above Vater’s bakeshop.

  “Hello!” came a man’s voice.

  Elise jumped at the same time as Marianne.

  “It’s Mr. Quincy,” Marianne whispered needlessly, for Elise had recognized Thornton’s voice right away, and her pounding heart responded.

  “He told me he wanted me to stay at his house,” Marianne whispered in a rush, her arms still around Elise. “He said you would have wanted it that way. But I didn’t know.”

  Elise nodded. “He’s a good man—” His appearance in the doorway cut short her explanation.

  “Elise?” He held a lantern high so that the beams fell across both her and Marianne. He squinted at her as though he didn’t quite recognize her.

  She swiped the evidence of tears from her cheeks and stood, letting the blue damask gown cascade to the floor. She smoothed the elegant folds down with one hand and with the other touched the stylish knot on the top of her head. She’d groomed at one of the train depots that morning, changing into the damask, as the other gown had become impossibly wrinkled. The damask had been wrinkled too, but at least it was clean, thanks to Fanny who’d labored tirelessly to finish the clothing in time
for her departure.

  Although her hair was no longer as curled and fancy as Fanny had styled it before leaving, Elise managed to retain some semblance of the style. With jewelry, gloves, and a cloak Mrs. Gray had loaned her, she’d transformed from the peasant immigrant to glorious princess, almost like Cinderella on her way to the ball. She’d tried not to enjoy it too much, had told herself it was only a disguise to keep Bradford’s workers from recognizing her during the train ride.

  Now the clock would soon be striking the end of her few days as a peasant disguised as a princess. Before that, however, she would enjoy Thornton’s reaction at seeing her attire.

  He lifted the lantern higher, putting the spotlight directly upon her. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

  She held back a smile.

  “Elise?” he asked again.

  “No, I’m only a figment of your imagination.”

  His gaze swept over her, lingering on her face before dropping to study her body, which she realized was outlined all too clearly in the form-fitting bodice with a low neckline. Even though the skirt was full, it hugged her waist and hips in a way her other skirts never had.

  Suddenly she was self-conscious and wished she could reach for her cloak, which was on the bed next to Marianne.

  When his eyes met hers, the spark of desire there struck her insides like metal against flint. Flickers of heat shot through her middle, but she glanced away hoping he wouldn’t see how he’d affected her. It wasn’t fair to either of them or to Rosalind.

  “I’m not marrying Rosalind.” His words came out clear and final, almost as if he’d read her mind.

  Her head jerked back up. “You’re not?”

  “I called off the wedding yesterday.”

  Her breath stuck in her throat.

  “Love or not, I decided I can’t marry a woman just to win a contest.”

  “Then you love her?”

  He didn’t answer her, but instead walked into the room and placed the lantern on the dresser. Marianne sat up straighter in bed, staring at Thornton with a kind of awe Elise would have found humorous had her heart not been in such anguish as she waited for Thornton’s answer to her question.

  Instead of responding, he crossed to her and stopped inches away, close enough that she caught a whiff of his clean-shaven, all-spice scent. In his tailored garments, he appeared stiff and gentlemanly, and yet there was something reckless and passionate in his expression that again made her breath catch.

  “There’s only one woman I’ve ever loved,” he whispered. “One woman I’ll always love.” When the dark brown of his eyes turned into molten chocolate, her limbs weakened and she couldn’t move. “I love you, Elise. Only and always you. And there will never be anyone else, no matter how hard I try to fool myself into thinking there will be.”

  Her heart skipped forward on the swell of a rising tide of emotion. He still loved her and only her. She had to close her eyes for a second to make sure she wasn’t actually dreaming the moment. When she opened them, he was watching her, his eyes wide with anxiety.

  “I realize you may be unable to love me now, especially because I’ve let you down so many times in the past, and now again with the mission.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “It’s my fault the mission had to close its doors,” he said in a rush. “When I was here in the summer, I told Miss Pendleton she could count on Quincy Enterprises for a donation. But I never followed through.”

  “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

  “I was calloused and inconsiderate. I should have done more, and now I blame myself for the fact that Marianne and Sophie had to move out. I blame myself that the infants and Sophie are gone.”

  “I guess you’ll have to stand in line behind the rest of us fighting for the prize of who’s to blame,” Elise said wryly.

  One of Thornton’s brows quirked.

  “I feel I’m to blame. Miss Pendleton is riddled with guilt. Even Marianne thinks she’s at fault.” Elise smiled at her sister, who was watching her exchange with Thornton with curiosity lighting her pretty features. “We’re a poor and sorry lot, all of us blaming ourselves for something that isn’t any of our faults. The fact is, at almost sixteen, Sophie is much smarter than we ever gave her credit for. She made this decision, and now we have to pray God will keep her safe, wherever she might be.”

  “Aren’t you worried about her?” Marianne asked in a small voice.

  “I’m sick with worry,” Elise responded. “I’m dying inside and won’t rest until I find her. But blaming myself or someone else won’t bring her back sooner.”

  Thornton regarded her with a strange warmth that made her self-conscious again. She glanced down at her hands. Without the gloves, they were the ordinary chafed hands of a woman accustomed to long hours of work. The fairy tale was rubbing off. The princess was losing her disguise one element at a time.

  “Have I ever told you what an amazing woman you are?” Thornton whispered.

  “I’m not sure.” She feigned innocence. “Maybe you’ll have to say it again.”

  A slow grin moved up his lips. “You’re amazing.”

  She cupped a hand to her ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

  His grin broke free and he reached for her. When he pulled her closer, she didn’t resist, but instead stumbled against him. He slid his arms around her and dipped his mouth to her ear. “Since you can’t hear me, I guess I’ll have to show you.”

  “Show me what?” she teased back.

  “This.” With that, his lips found hers. Tender. Soft. And full of a restraint that tossed the hot winds in her middle into gusts. She wanted to press herself against him and let him consume her. But before she could do so, a giggle from the bed broke through her consciousness.

  He released her at the same time she pushed away. She was too embarrassed to glance at Marianne, chagrined at the poor role model she was being.

  “We clearly have a lot to catch up on,” Marianne said with another giggle. “I’d like to hear the whole story about how you fell in love with Mr. Quincy.”

  “Fell in love?” Thornton asked hopefully.

  “It’s quite obvious Elise is madly in love with you,” Marianne continued.

  “Marianne,” Elise chastised with a sharp glance.

  “Just admit it.” Marianne smiled, and Elise was so relieved to see the smile that she released the tension in her shoulders she hadn’t realized was there. Maybe everything would be okay with Marianne after all. Marianne was stronger and had more courage perhaps than either of them knew.

  “Come on,” Thornton said, “just admit it.” Though his voice had a note of playfulness to it, there was something in his eyes that beckoned her to put him out of his misery. And really, what reason did she have anymore to keep from admitting how she really felt about him?

  “I admit,” she said, feeling the blush rise into her cheeks.

  “Admit what?” His eyes glinted.

  She should have known he wouldn’t let her off quite so easily. “I admit I’m rather fond of you.”

  “Just fond?”

  “Slightly affectionate.”

  “Slightly?” When he tugged her against the length of his body, suddenly all coherent thought disappeared.

  “Hm-hmm,” she murmured as his lips dipped in, then out of reach.

  “Kiss her again,” Marianne called happily. “And don’t stop until she says the words.”

  His lips brushed Elise’s, melting away her reserve. But just as she expected him to deepen the kiss, he moved out of reach. She chased after him, but he held himself back. She needed to feel his lips again. Oh, how she loved this man.

  As though she’d whispered the words aloud, he smiled. Maybe he’d seen her silent declaration in her eyes. Whatever the case, it seemed to be enough for him. He leaned in and gave her what she’d wanted, a kiss that moved through her body all the way to her toes.

  When he broke away, he held her close.
<
br />   “I love you, Thornton,” she whispered.

  His arms tightened. And for a long moment they just held each other.

  “So when’s the wedding?” Marianne’s voice coming from the bed was laced with humor. “From the looks of it, I think it had better be soon.”

  Elise quickly broke from Thornton. “Marianne,” she chastised, even as she placed her hands over her cheeks.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t mind a wedding soon,” Thornton said with an embarrassed grin of his own. “But I want to take the time to court Elise properly.”

  Elise stared at Thornton, an idea beginning to take root.

  He got down on one knee in front of her and peered up at her with his darkly handsome eyes. “Elise Neumann, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her thoughts spun. She had to do this now. For him. Because she loved him and believed in him. “I accept your proposal,” she started. “Under one condition.”

  His hopeful smile and earnest expression were endearing. “Anything.”

  She smiled tentatively in return. “If you want to marry me, you must do it tonight. Right now.”

  His smile faded, a troubled fog rolling in to replace it. He stood and took a step back. “No, Elise. Not tonight. I refuse to put you in a position where you might possibly question my motives for marrying you.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Someday you might.”

  “You’ve already proven yourself to be a man of honor in countless ways. Can’t you see that? Even now, you’re willing to give up the contest for me, because you care about me more than winning.”

  “Contest?” Marianne interrupted.

  “There’s so much to tell you,” Elise said, “but it’ll have to wait until later.” She faced Thornton. “Marry me tonight.”

  He jammed his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t come here tonight to ask you to marry me. I didn’t even know you’d be here when I stopped by.”

  “And I wasn’t sure if I’d visit you tonight,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to see you and interfere with your plans. So you see, we weren’t supposed to be together tonight. And yet here we are.”