Mrs. Hawkins wrote on a sheet of paper and folded it. On the outside she wrote her sister’s name and address. She handed the paper to Zenobia.
“Give this to her. The note tells her why I’ve sent you. I’ll meet you at the train station on May ninth at eleven o’clock in the morning. I’ll have your ticket with me. Your train will depart at half past eleven so don’t be late.”
“We won’t. Thank you so much for your assistance.” Zenobia stood and waited for Marcy.
Marcy rose and said, “We’re very grateful for your help. We’ll see you on May ninth.”
The girls climbed into the waiting hansom cab.
Zenobia pressed her gloved fingers to her temples. “We have to hurry or we’ll never learn all we need to know.”
“Whatever are you going to tell Mr. Beveridge?”
“We’re celebrating with friends and shopping. You heard Mrs. Hawkins mention the cold. We’ll need warm clothes.”
“I know. Montana is almost to Canada so the weather must get really cold in winter.”
The hansom cab dropped them where they’d found him. In no time, they were through the back door and in Mme. Olga’s shop.
Mme. Olga motioned them over and displayed a length of white satin. “Miss Stanton, this would look perfect with your hair, especially with the bodice of the dress covered in this lace.”
Zenobia looked at the luxurious fabric and at the Venetian lace Mme. Olga’s assistant held. Since Queen Victoria had worn white when she wed Prince Albert in 1840, white wedding dresses had grown in popularity. She wanted white for her own special day.
She gently touched the satin. “Those are exquisite.”
“I thought a high neck of lace. The cameo you’re wearing today would look lovely at the throat.”
Zenobia’s hand reflexively touched the brooch her mother had given her. “I’ll leave the style up to you because you know my tastes so well.”
Mme. Olga preened. “How wise you are for your young years. And what else will you require? Perhaps items for your trousseau?”
“I’ll need a complete trousseau. Even though I’m officially in mourning, my mother had requested I forego wearing black.”
After discussing items, she said, "I’d like for the clothes to include a couple of riding habits. I think one in gray and one in lavender?”
The modiste’s eyes sparkled as if she were counting gold coins, which she probably was. “That would be quite flattering to your complexion and suitable for mourning. And will your lady’s maid require anything?”
Zenobia pretended to regard Marcy as if she were a specimen under glass. “She’ll need to accompany me when I ride so we need suitable garments for her, too. Probably red and rust for her. What do you think?”
Mme. Olga adjusted her spectacles and assessed Marcy. “Yes, both would look good with her dark hair.”
“Fortunately, my groom and I will be traveling for a lengthy European honeymoon. I’ll need warm things appropriate for wearing in the Alps. My lady’s maid will accompany me, of course, and will need suitable things as well.”
She leaned toward Mme. Olga conspiratorially. “In spite of the fact she’s now a servant, I want her to function as a companion after my marriage. Her garments will need to reflect that change.”
After a lengthy discussion of what other fabrics and designs Zenobia wanted for herself and for Marcy, Mme. Olga asked, “When can you come for your first fitting?
“What day would you prefer?” Zenobia waggled her finger at the modiste. “There’s much to do so I mustn’t delay too long.”
“We’ll have the first of these ready by next Monday. Say one o’clock?”
Zenobia saw Hoskins park the carriage in front of the shop. “We’ll see you then. Au revoir.”
Inside the carriage, she sank against the tufted leather seat. “Deception is very tiring.”
“And my nerves may not survive.” Marcy grabbed Zenobia’s hand with a desperate expression. “You should know I’ve never been on a horse.”
“Once we’re in Montana Territory I believe you’ll have to learn. I wish I’d had enough nerve to ask Madame Olga for split skirts on the riding costumes.”
“We can probably alter them later.” For Hoskins’ benefit, Marcy yelled, “Ma’am, I haven’t had anything new in a long time. Madame Olga asked if I need anything, why didn’t you tell her I do? You could have at least asked me.”
“Why should I get you anything? Ask my stepfather to buy whatever you need. Besides, soon I won’t have to put up with your lazy ways every day.”
The two exchanged conspiratorial smiles.
Chapter Three
Zenobia tasted the stew she’d just made. “I suppose it’s edible, but only barely. What have I done wrong?”
Mrs. Nesbitt grabbed a spoon and took a bite. “Too bland. Did you forget to add salt and pepper?”
She wanted to stomp her foot but reined in her disgust with herself. “Probably, for I don’t remember doing so.”
Marcy’s cooking was going better. “If that’s all that’s wrong, Zenobia, you can easily remedy the situation.”
Mrs. Nesbitt laid her spoon in the sink. “That’s true. If, on the other hand, you had used too much salt or pepper, you’d have a greater problem. Add a bit now and give it a good stir.”
Zenobia did and waited a few minutes before she tested the taste again. “Oh, I believe this would be a good meal.”
The instructor gestured to the bread they’d made earlier. “A hearty stew served with warm bread and butter is not only filling but nutritious. You ladies have completed one meal. Tomorrow, we’ll try a cobbler. That will test your cooking a bit more.”
After thanking Mrs. Nesbitt, the two left. The hansom cab had waited as instructed but Zenobia was becoming concerned with her ability to pay their expenses. She instructed him to let them off near shops.
“We need some practical everyday clothes and I can’t ask Madame Olga to provide them. Sewing is something we both know. Let’s shop for fabric and skirts and shirtwaists.”
Marcy stopped. “I know where we should go. Come with me.”
Zenobia let her friend guide her to a general emporium. “What if someone sees me who recognizes me?”
“You’re buying things for the poor, which is what we’ll be.”
“I hope not too poor. The letters sounded as if the brothers could keep us well provided for even thought not in luxury. I understand you mean in contrast to my stepfather.”
Marcy led the way to a rack of ready-made dresses. “I don’t see what we need here, do you?”
They appeared to be cheaper copies of the sort Madame Olga provided. There were none that would be what they needed for ranch living.
Zenobia spotted the fabric. “Let’s try over here.” She selected blue gingham, calico in green with a pattern of small flowers, and muslin in dark plaid of navy and green.
Marcy chose rose, beige, and green fabrics. “These will hold up after they’re laundered.”
“We should have wool for winter.” She calculated how much money she had with her. “Let’s each get enough wool for two dresses.”
“You’d better include apron fabric so you can keep your dress from being soiled so quickly.”
Zenobia piled white cotton on top of the other fabrics she’d selected and then chose spools of thread and a package of needles for each of them.
“Let’s see how much these cost before I get anything else.”
Marcy opened her purse. “I have money and can pay for my own fabric.”
Zenobia put her hand on her friend’s. “Not unless we need your money later. Since you’re helping me escape, I want to pay as long as I’m able.”
When she’d paid for their purchases, she still had a little of her allowance left. She’d already paid Mrs. Nesbitt but there were other considerations.
Marcy reminded her, “It’s time to go meet Hoskins.”
“So it is. Let’s go to the tea room wher
e he’s to call for us. I don’t want him to know we’ve been shopping here.”
Carrying their purchases, they walked a block away to the tea room. While they were standing in front they met friends of Zenobia’s. They were chatting with them when Hoskins pulled the carriage to a stop.
How fortuitous. He would assume they had been with the other women for the day. She would do nothing to change his opinion.
What had worried her most was getting the trunks to the train station instead of to Percy’s. How would she manage? She and Marcy had a plan, but would it work?
On the morning of their departure, the drayman and his helper called for the trunks an hour after her stepfather had gone to his office.
Marcy pretended to be irate at having to clean around the trunks. “It’s a good thing you’re finally moving these out of my way. I shouldn’t have to bump into these another day, I tell you.”
Zenobia snapped, “You’ll do what you’re told if you expect a letter of reference. Don’t think I’ll have you as my lady’s maid much longer.”
The drayman and his helper moved the eight trunks to the wagon.
Zenobia gathered her wrap and purse and donned her hat. “Marcy, hurry your lazy bones over here and come with me to see these are safely stored. No backtalk while you still work for me.”
Marcy set her bonnet on her head and tied the ribbons then grabbed her purse. “I don’t see why I have to come. You could just tell the men where to take the trunks.”
“I want to be certain they’re handled correctly. Come now, hurry or we’ll be left behind.”
Hoskins appeared affronted. “Surely you wish me to bring the carriage, Miss Stanton?”
“No need today, Hoskins. I’ve arranged the hansom. I’ll be going to lunch with friends afterward. They’ll bring me home.”
He narrowed his eyes. She knew he was suspicious that she was up to something. “As you wish, Miss Stanton.”
She prayed the man didn’t follow her and Marcy. As they were leaving, Marcy whispered something to Hoskins then joined her in the hansom cab.
Once they were on their way, Zenobia leaned back and pulled her handkerchief from her cuff. She dabbed at the perspiration on her forehead.
“What did you say to Hoskins that placated him?”
Marcy giggled. “I told him I’d find out what you were up to and let him know when we returned.”
“Thank goodness. I was afraid he would follow us. There’s really no good reason for moving these from the house instead of to a spare room.”
“I think I satisfied his curiosity. He’ll be expecting a full report when we return.”
“I wonder how long it will be before our absence is noticed?”
“Since you said we were going to join your friends for lunch, they won’t expect you back before two at the earliest.”
Zenobia’s nerves were taut and she thought she might explode from the tension. “By two o’clock, we’ll be well away from Atlanta.”
Chapter Four
Leaving Atlanta, May 9, 1888
Zenobia couldn’t relax until they were miles away from the train station. On their way, they passed the street on which Percy Lawton lived. Her stomach muscles clenched and she thought she might be sick. Even thinking about having to marry Percy sent waves of revulsion through her.
The alternative of being confined to a mental asylum terrified her. She thanked God she and Marcy were escaping her stepfather’s wrath. At least, she hoped they would be beyond his reach. Even if he found her, she’d already be married and under the protection of her husband.
She waved her fingers and whispered, “Goodbye forever, Percy and Papa.”
Marcy peered around them then whispered, “You should have let me continue as your maid until we get there.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re sisters traveling to be married to brothers. If Papa asks, no lady with a maid traveled on this train.”
“Right. That is a clever idea.”
“Besides, from now on neither of us will have a maid. I might as well start being independent.”
“You were shrewd to ask Mme. Olga for winter things for your honeymoon in the Alps. But, she looked at you with the most quizzical expression. I thought sure she was going to question you further.”
Zenobia had worried about that. “If we hadn’t spent so much with her, she might have. Still, this is the right time of year to travel to the Alps. Anyway, she can’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“I wonder who she told, though. I don’t think much fools her, do you?”
“She’s smarter than she pretends but we’re away from there and it’s too late to worry about her or my stepfather.”
“He’s a vindictive man, Zenobia. I hope you’re truly rid of him.”
Zenobia did too. She had no doubt he would be furious with her and with Marcy. What would he do to retaliate? She pushed the fear from her and fought to focus on her future.
She pulled a publication from her valise. “I brought this little booklet I’ve been reading about Montana Territory. I’ve learned a lot. For instance, I’m so glad we have heavy winter clothing. The weather gets far below freezing where we’re headed and summer is short there.” She handed the pamphlet to Marcy.
Marcy perused it for a few minutes before closing it. “The train’s motion makes the words jump around. I’ll have to wait until we stop.” She tried to hand it to her companion.
“You keep it. I’ve almost memorized it from pouring over it at night the past week.”
Marcy opened her valise to tuck the book inside and displayed the other book there. “Lucky for us Mrs. Nesbitt gave us each a cookery book. I don’t think we were her most promising pupils.”
“I’m sure I’m not but you did better than I did. I believe I make good biscuits and she said that’s very important.”
Marcy laughed. “Food is always important to a hungry man.”
Zenobia leaned near her friend. “I’m glad your sister Colleen told you about the… you know?… the wedding night.”
“Apparently, she enjoyed hers.” Marcy raised her eyebrows. “Frankly, I suspect she indulged before the actual wedding.”
Zenobia was flabbergasted. “Really?”
Marcy nodded and her expression appeared scandalized. “My nephew was awfully large for a premature baby. I heard Ma and Pa talking about that. Apparently they’d already suspected she’d caught Brian before the wedding.”
“We’ll be married the day we arrive so no one can accuse us of putting the cart before the horse. I’m nervous, though.”
“Not me. If my sister can manage, either of us will be a success. I promise you she is dumb as dishwater.”
“Smart enough to marry the man she wants without becoming a mail-order bride, no offense.”
Marcy grimaced. “None taken, but he’s no prize. I do hope she’s happy. She has a second baby on the way and Brian is only six months old. He’s sweet but she’ll have two in diapers at the same time.”
Zenobia stared at the passing landscape. What would she do when she had children? Would she be a good mother? She wanted to be, but she’d never been around children other than having been one.
“We’ve a long ride ahead. Mrs. Hawkins was nice to bring us a picnic box. I don’t think she was too confident about our ability to cope with life in the West.”
Marcy clutched her purse as if afraid someone would snatch it from her, something Mrs. Hawkins had warned them might take place at station stops.
“We also have the bit of cash the men sent. I suspect it won’t go far at the rates the train charges for food or the places near the depot when we stop for a layover. I have a bit saved.”
“I have what’s left of my last allowance and my meager savings. My stepfather had no idea I saved any of my money or he would have reduced my allowance.”
“I heard him talking to Percy Lawton about it last night. You also have a dowry but I don’t know how much.”
“Mama told me my father left me a nice size trust for a dowry but I don’t know the amount. If I don’t marry, I should get the money when I’m twenty-five. I imagine by now my stepfather has embezzled whatever he can and there may be nothing left.”
“That’s what they were talking about but there was also something about your mother’s will. Unfortunately, they saw me and sent me away. They had some sort of agreement, though, I got that much.”
What was that man up to? Zenobia had to believe she was beyond his reach now or she’d go mad and need that asylum. Well, he might have embezzled her money but she had kept her freedom. She concentrated on the passing scenery.
Her muscles uncoiled slowly as they left Atlanta behind and rode through countryside. “Mrs. Hawkins’ warning scared me. Unless we have to get off, I’ll feel better staying on the train.”
Marcy nodded. “I agree, even if we have to skip the midday meal. This is all very different than anything I’ve ever done before. Have you ever ridden a train?”
“Yes, when my father was alive, we used to go to the coast each summer. My grandparents had a cottage right on the beach of Tybee Island. It was a lovely place to stay with the sea breeze blowing in the windows at night. My father would go back to town each Monday and return on Friday evening.”
Marcy’s voice sounded wistful, “That sounds grand, not for him but for you. I’ve never been out of Atlanta until now.”
“I’ve never been outside Georgia. Just think, we’re becoming well-traveled even if we won’t be seeing the Alps.”
***
Callum read Mrs. Hawkins’ letter while in the saddle as they left Cottonwood Springs. “They’re on their way. They left Atlanta on the ninth.”
A wide smile decorated Andrew’s face. “Does she give their names and what they look like?”
Callum referred to the letter. “My bride is Zenobia Stanton and she has blond hair and blue eyes and is twenty-two. Marcy Boyer is yours and she has dark hair and brown eyes and is twenty. Both are tall, pretty, nicely formed, and well-spoken.” He handed Andrew the single sheet of paper.
His brother scanned the details and looked up. “I can hardly wait. Makes me look forward to being snowbound this winter. Imagine having a wife to come home to every evening and to snuggle with every night.”
The Rancher's Perfect Bride Page 2
