“He...he told you it didn’t...work out?”
Dottie nodded, white icicles quivering. “He said he’ll put you up at the Imperial Hotel while he gets the money together for your passage home.” The soft white hand reached out for yet another kindly pat. “It’s for the best, dear. You’ll learn to accept it and move on with your life.”
Shaking her head in regret, Dottie heaved a sigh that sent the frills and bows on her pink dress fluttering. “Such a good man, he is, Thomas Greenwood. Since the two of you have agreed to annul the marriage, he didn’t think it would be proper for him to sit by your beside. He’s been waiting out in the yard, poor man. Didn’t want to leave you alone until he knew you were going to be all right. He had to go home to milk the cow but he’ll be back soon.”
A knock sounded at the front door. Dottie bounced up. “That will be Gus Junior. He’s come to let me know how soon the doctor expects to be back from Desperation Hill. You finish your tea, dear. I’ll collect the tray later.”
Dottie hurried out of the room. Charlotte heard the front door open. She heard a voice speaking in the awkward adolescent croak that marked the transition from a boy to a man, and then Dottie burst into another stream of talk.
Charlotte’s fingers tightened around the china cup. An annulment. The marriage was probably not valid anyway, considering she had impersonated someone else, but an annulment would avoid any legal problems. She should be relieved. She should be grateful to Thomas Greenwood for having tied up all the loose ends so neatly, but instead an odd sense of disappointment niggled in her belly.
Could she truly have been so wrong? She had thought Thomas would be heartbroken when she left, but it seemed he was completely happy to free her from her marriage vows. He had no intention of fighting to keep her.
Could it be that her lack of expertise with the household chores mattered more to him than the companionship she had felt growing between them? Maybe he wanted to end the marriage, so he could find a different kind of wife.
Someone more capable.
Someone who did not deceive him and tell lies.
With a sinking feeling, Charlotte accepted the facts.
It appeared her husband was eager to be rid of her.
* * *
A tumult of feelings fought within Thomas as he alighted outside the doc’s house and tied Shadow to the hitching rail by the porch. Of all the confused emotions relief ruled the strongest. Charlotte would be all right. Right behind the relief, eagerness to see her burned like a flame through him, but the bitter sting of anger overshadowed his pleasure.
He tried to brush aside the resentment.
He had suspected all along that she might leave him. Even if she had been who she said she was—even if she had been the woman who signed a contract to be his wife—he had feared from the moment he first saw her that she would be too delicate for the life he could offer her.
But that had not stopped him from hoping. Hoping she would prove him wrong. Had not stopped him from wanting. Wanting the marriage to last and be complete. Now he rejected those hopes and wants as nothing but foolish dreams.
So, considering he had predicted Charlotte would abandon him before the month was out, what difference it did make that she had never intended to stay? Thomas probed around in his mind and decided it made a lot of difference.
He’d been deceived. Tricked. Taken advantage of. Made into a fool.
That’s why he was so angry with her. A man who had in good faith put his heart and guts into an attempt to make something work did not like finding out that the enterprise had been doomed from the start.
His boots beat a short cadence against the floor as he followed the doctor’s wife into the small room where he had carried Charlotte last night. Roses on the wallpaper. Lace curtains in the window. He thought of the rough log walls and uncovered windows of his cabin.
It had not been enough.
He had not been enough.
Charlotte was sitting up in bed, propped against the pillows. She looked much better now. No longer exhausted or anguished. Her skin was still pink but it had not blistered, and her lips were on the mend, shiny with a protective layer of grease.
Dottie walked out with a quiet comment. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
She did not close the door after her. Thomas shifted on his feet and spoke in a low voice, the first words that sprang into his turbulent mind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up this morning. I had to go and milk the cow. It’s painful for the animal if you let the milk build up in the udders for too long.”
Charlotte twisted the edge of the blanket in her nervous fingers. “You don’t need to apologize...” She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling. “Dottie said you told her we were getting an annulment.”
Thomas clasped his hat in his hands. Why prolong the agony of loss? Why torture his battered heart with a futile hope? Why keep the dream alive, just to see it die again in the end? Charlotte had never been suited to be his wife. He’d known it from the moment he first met her at the Imperial Hotel, but he had closed his eyes to the truth.
“Seems the right thing to do,” he said gruffly.
“You seem to be in a hurry to get it done.”
He let his gaze slide over her features. Such delicate beauty. He should have accepted right from the start that she was out of his reach, as far as the distant surface of the moon. He should have put her back on the train instead of marrying her.
“Why postpone?” he said.
“You are angry at me...”
The accusation in her voice cracked his hard-won control. “Don’t you think I have a right to be angry?” he said through gritted teeth. “You took everything. My money, my care, my affection. You used me. Nothing was safe from you. Not even my dignity.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you...”
“You managed it well enough.”
“Please,” she said. “Let me explain.” She gestured toward the padded chair by the window.
Thomas hesitated, turning his hat in his hands.
“Please,” she said again.
He sighed, pulled up the chair and sat down on it. Despite everything, when he rode back home in the morning to milk the cow, he had taken the time to wash and shave, and to change into clean clothes. Even now, it mattered to him what she thought of him, and he could not deny her the opportunity to say what she wanted. And, if he was honest to himself, part of him was curious to hear her explanations.
“Close the door,” Charlotte said, in that firm voice she sometimes used.
Thomas glanced back at the open doorway. It was not proper, but he was too wrought up to care. He got to his feet, shut the door quietly and sat down again. He let his gaze drift over her once more. The thought that had been stewing at the back of his mind burst into the forefront of his consciousness.
Night after night, he’d slept beside her. What if he had claimed his husbandly rights? What if he had bedded her? Where would they stand now? Would she be forced to stay with him? Or would she leave anyway? Would he feel less empty inside if he had taken something from her, the way she had taken something from him?
“I’m listening,” he said.
“I told you, my parents died four years ago. They drowned when their boat capsized in a storm. They’d only gone out for the day, but the weather changed suddenly.”
“I’m sorry,” Thomas muttered.
But at least your parents loved you while they lived.
“I already explained that my sisters and I were not allowed to live alone. A cousin came to live with us. He is a greedy, selfish man, and he has been trying to force me into marriage. He attacked me, and I knew he’d repeat his unwanted advances until he succeeded in ruining me. That’s why I had to flee. To be safe from him.”
Thomas no
dded. He could see how Charlotte had tied snippets of truth into her lies, blending her own situation with that of Miss Jackson.
A pleading look entered her eyes. “I found Miss Jackson dead on the train...she had...I’m sorry, Thomas... She had taken her own life with an overdose of laudanum...I don’t know why she did it. I took your letter and the railroad ticket and pretended to be her. It didn’t feel so very wrong at the time. It seemed as if she was reaching out to me, helping me to find a place of safety. I didn’t know she was a mail-order bride until you came to collect me. I had assumed she had entered into a contract for a teaching position.”
Thomas shook his head. Was there no end to his misfortunes? The woman he’d contracted to marry, the plain woman he had chosen to be his wife because he wanted to save her and the child from ending up destitute, had taken her own life and the life of her unborn child rather than letting him take care of them.
He needed to be alone. He stood, hat in hand, and spoke harshly as his anger and hurt poured into words. “Why didn’t you tell me right at the start? When I first came to collect you, and you discovered you were meant to be my bride, why did you keep pretending? Why didn’t you tell me the truth and ask for my help?”
A guilty expression flickered across her sunburned features. “I wanted to. But you seemed so angry when I suggested breaking the contract. You told me that if I didn’t marry you I had to pay back the cost of my journey. I didn’t have any money, and I was confused and afraid. So I just went along with it. You must believe me. I never meant to hurt you. I thought I’d be able help to you on the farm, during the time I was there.”
“Did you ever consider telling me?”
“Many times...but I...” She looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I was happy there, in your secluded valley. And you had made it clear you’d be...a gentleman...allow me a waiting period before consummating the marriage. I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d send me away if you discovered I wasn’t your wife in the eyes of the law. You’d have been too honorable to let me stay with you if there was no real marriage.”
“What about the baby? Surely you understood it would soon become clear there was no child. Would you have told me then? Or would you have pretended you’d lost the child?”
He made an angry gesture at her, taking in her slender shape. “If I had not decided to fetch the doctor, would we still be at home in the cabin, with me rocking you in my arms, pouring my affection out to you, trying to console you because you’d lost the baby you were expecting?”
“I...I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far...”
“No,” Thomas said. “You hadn’t thought further than the end of your pretty little nose.” He tapped his hat against his thigh, propped it on his head and prepared to leave.
“No. Please, Thomas, don’t go. I...I have something to ask.”
Charlotte must have seen the incredulous expression on his face, for she flinched and hunched deeper beneath the covers. Thomas halted, not looking at her but staring at the tiny roses on the wall, his body rigid with tension.
“What more can you ask?” he said gruffly. “What do I have left?”
“Don’t tell anyone I’m not Miss Jackson. Surely it makes no difference now? You can get your annulment, and it will be easier for me to remain safe if I continue to use her name. Cousin Gareth will be looking for me.”
Thomas glared down at her from his height. Then his rigid posture eased and he exhaled a resigned sigh. Was there no end to his willingness to be a fool? “I guess it make no difference now,” he said with reluctance. “I’ll have to find out about an annulment. Maybe Reverend Eldridge can be persuaded to forget he even married us in the first place.”
With that, he walked out. How insignificant, how transient his marriage had been. Like dandelion fluff floating in the wind. They would tear up a piece of paper, ask the reverend to cross out an entry in the church register, and it would be as if the union between them had never been.
Chapter Ten
Feelings Thomas had thought buried years ago surged within him as he took care of the evening chores. Those feelings gathered force while he cooked scrambled eggs for his dinner and ate them with two slices of bread.
The unworthy, unloved and unlovable little Thomas Greenwood. Sturdy and blond, so different from his lithe, dark parents and his brothers. Always in the way. Ignored by his mother, kicked around by his father, tormented by his brothers. The kindest emotion he’d received from the people around him had been pity.
Why? Why? Whose sins had he paid for?
After he’d tidied up the kitchen, he sat down at the table with a pen and paper and wrote a letter. He wrote quickly, not pausing to select his words.
Dear Mother,
I have to know. You have always refused to answer questions about my father but now I need to know. Who was he? What did he do? What about him was so terrible that it made you hate me? Why did you not love me? Why could you not love me?
I must know. If you don’t answer this letter, I’ll write every week until you do.
Your son,
Thomas
PS. I farm my own land now. I am not married and I have no children. I am in good health and hope that all of you are the same. My address is Gold Crossing, Arizona Territory.
PPS. There is no gold here. The mine played out six years ago.
He read the letter and frowned. It was clear from the way he wrote that he was ill suited for a woman like Charlotte Fairfax. She had disclosed scant details about her background, but it sounded as though she came from a good family and had benefited from a formal education.
A grim smile tugged at Thomas’s lips as he recalled his thoughts while he drove to Gold Crossing to collect his bride. I don’t want a beauty, for a beautiful woman will put on airs and graces and expect to be waited upon.
However, that was exactly what he had ended up with, a delicate beauty unable to even make a cup of coffee without creating havoc in his cabin. He hardened his heart against the memories and got up to fetch an envelope.
Tomorrow, he’d ride into town and post the letter. He’d take the opportunity to look in on Charlotte at the same time. Even though they were getting an annulment, he still felt responsible for her. Thomas refused to acknowledge the longing that flooded over him at the thought of seeing her again.
* * *
Spinsters could be very vexing, Charlotte decided. Miss Gladys Hayes had appeared at the doorstep of the doctor’s house before they’d even finished breakfast. After hearing about the plans to annul her marriage to Thomas, Miss Hayes had decided that any further encounter between the pair of them needed to take place under the supervision of a chaperone—a role for which she felt amply qualified.
So, instead of allowing Thomas into the house when he rode up on Shadow, Charlotte had been required to greet him on the canopied porch of the Timmerman residence, where they were now seated on a hard bench, squinting into the sun, dust clogging their nostrils.
“I’m glad to see you are up and about,” Thomas said.
“Let’s take a walk.” Charlotte stood, wincing at the stiffness in her legs.
Every step might be an effort, but Dottie and the other fifty percent of the female population of Gold Crossing were sitting in the parlor with the window open, listening to every word of her conversation with Thomas.
It seemed to Charlotte that Gladys Hayes and Dottie Timmerman had little in common and certainly shared no mutual admiration. However, due to the lack of other female residents in Gold Crossing, they had little choice but to tolerate each other.
Charlotte took Thomas’s arm. She’d missed him. It had felt strange to sleep alone at night. She’d been cold. Cold and anxious and a little lonely.
“How many eggs did you find this morning?” she asked.
�
�I didn’t look.”
She halted. “But you must look! Polk likes to watch while you search her perch. She is very proud of her eggs. And Zachary occasionally lays two. And Harrison is getting very clever about hiding hers...”
A wave of homesickness washed over her. But not homesickness for Merlin’s Leap. For the tiny secluded valley, a world of its own. Charlotte rushed into a breathless stream of words. It seemed very important to make Thomas understand everything she had forgotten to tell him yesterday.
“I know I have caused you a lot of pain and inconvenience. I am truly sorry for having deceived you. I genuinely assumed that having a wife for a few months would be better than not having a wife at all. I hoped that I could add to your life, create some homely comforts. I thought I was helping with the chores.”
“You were helping. Trying to, anyway.” His tone was grudging.
Just the words she wanted to hear. It might have been like pulling teeth, but he had admitted that she had made a contribution. That she had been an asset. Charlotte launched into putting her plan into words.
“Even though I need to live in town, now that you are getting our marriage annulled, I’ve decided that I might come out every afternoon and help you irrigate. I will borrow a horse from Dottie and ride over.”
“It rains more often in July and August. I can manage.”
“And...” She took a deep breath. “I will help you acquire another mail-order bride. You might like to put an advertisement in the Matrimonial News. I can help you choose.”
Even as Charlotte spoke the words, an odd resentment twisted in her belly. The thought of Thomas marrying another mail-order bride didn’t sit right at all.
She sneaked a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was such a handsome man, so steady and big and powerful. She imagined the delight of some unknown bride when he appeared to fetch her from the Imperial Hotel.
The happy moments they had spent together flickered through Charlotte’s mind. The fun and laughter. The quiet times in the evenings. Everything Thomas had taught her about farming. All the care and concern he had shown for her.
His Mail-Order Bride Page 13
