Amelia (The Marriage Market Book 1)

by Stevie MacFarlane

  It was a few minutes before noon when she arrived at the galley, surprised to find a group of chattering women. As a new arrival, she was subjected to a variety of looks when the women noticed her standing in the doorway. Some smiled at her, some nodded politely and a few looked her up and down before returning to their conversations.

  A blonde haired woman sitting with a little girl motioned her over to her table. Amelia quickly made her way to her side. Soon they were joined by two more women.

  “Hello,” she said as soon as Amelia was settled. “I’m Alice and this is my daughter, Delia. This is Jane and Martha.”

  “I’m Amelia,” she replied gratefully. “For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be invited to join you or tossed overboard.”

  “Oh, don’t mind them,” Jane offered. “Most of them are so nervous they can hardly string two sentences together. I guess that’s what comes from going off to the middle of nowhere to find a husband,” she added grinning.

  Amelia liked Jane, the older woman, immediately.

  “Are you going to Seattle, too?” Martha asked.

  “Why yes, I am.”

  “To find a husband?”

  “No, I’m already married,” Amelia said with a shy smile as she held out her hand and showed off her ring.

  “Oh, that’s pretty,” Alice said as the gold caught the light. “Have you been married long?”

  “One whole day,” Amelia laughed.

  “Well girls, here’s one you don’t have to worry about,” Jane called to the room in general. “She’s already married.”

  The room erupted with laughter and the looks this time were much more cordial.

  “All right, you chatterboxes,” a deep voice boomed. “Grub’s on. This ain’t no pleasure cruise. You want to eat, get up here and get your vittles. I don’t have time to wait on you.”

  Amelia looked up in surprise and watched a very large man wearing a less than clean apron putting bowls and platters of food through an opening in the wall and onto a large sideboard with a two inch ledge.

  “Well,” he barked. “What are you waiting for?” Grumbling, he walked away and returned with more dishes and a huge pot of coffee. “Don’t know why this ship’s full of women, no how. Every sailor knows they’re nothing but bad luck,” he muttered.

  “That’s Mick, the cook,” Martha whispered. “Come on, we’d best get in line.” Rising from the table, she moved to the end of the line of women and the others joined her. Amelia looked down the corridor in search of Hugh, but he was not in sight. Finally she took the last place and followed the others.

  There were stacks of plates and utensils at one end of the sideboard and she took what was needed. Bowls of steaming mashed potatoes and platters of sliced ham quickly disappeared to be replaced by new. Peas and rolls rounded out the meal and Amelia took a bit of everything. Next to the coffee was a big bowl of oranges she would have passed up had Alice not whispered to her to put one in her pocket for later. Making her way back to the table was difficult with her hands full and so many chairs blocking the way, but she finally sat down with a sigh.

  “Are all the meals like this?” she asked, wishing she had a napkin to lay in her lap.

  “We’ve only had one other,” Martha answered, “and that was breakfast this morning. And yes, I would expect the same thing for the rest of our voyage. I don’t think it’s likely Mick will suddenly get a personality.”

  Instantly they were laughing, even Delia giggled. When Mick glared suspiciously at them through the window, they lowered their gazes to their plates like mischievous schoolgirls.

  “Good grief, imagine being stuck with someone like that for a husband?” Martha whispered. Trying to hold back her laugh, Amelia snorted, and nearly choked, completely embarrassed, as the others laughed harder. Finally they were able to compose themselves and continue eating, but the mood had been lightened considerably.

  “So,” Jane said. “If you’re not going to Seattle to find a husband, do you have family there?”

  “It’s where my husband’s home is,” Amelia replied. “I’ve only been here a short time and we were married yesterday.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Alice beamed. “I hope you’ll be very happy. I have a man waiting for me in Seattle and hope to be married soon. He works for a timber company. Delia needs a father and I’ve been a widow for several years.”

  “Oh, really, what’s his name? My husband and his family are in the timber business. Maybe he knows him,” Amelia said with a smile.

  “His name is Clarence Henderson.”

  “No, I don’t recall Hugh mentioning that name, but I’ve been in such a whirlwind lately, maybe I forgot. I’ll ask him. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we were neighbors? I don’t know a soul in Seattle.”

  Suddenly the table went quiet and Amelia looked up to see a stricken look on Martha’s face. Jane had taken her hand and Alice was white as a sheet.

  “What is your husband’s name?” Martha whispered, looking at her with pleading eyes.

  “Hugh Jordon,” Amelia replied.

  “Oh, God.” Covering her face with her hand, Martha started to rise from the table, but Amelia pulled her back down onto her seat. “Martha, what’s wrong?” she asked, as a sick feeling began in her stomach.

  “Do you suppose there are two Hugh Jordons in Seattle?” Martha asked, realizing Amelia truly had no idea what was taking place.

  “No, I highly doubt that,” Amelia replied, softly.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Martha, please, somebody explain what this is about,” she pleaded, looking from one face to the other. Delia just shrugged her shoulders and went back to building shapes with her peas.

  “I think you’d better show her the letter,” Jane said, patting Martha’s shoulder.

  Martha nodded solemnly and pulled a well-read letter from the pocket of her dress. Handing it to Amelia she waited, her hands folded on the table, her meal long forgotten.

  Taking the letter, Amelia read it quickly and then read it again as her complexion went from pasty white to angry red.

  “This cannot be,” she insisted. “This simply cannot be happening.” Collapsing back in her chair, she stared off into space in shock. Suddenly the women were consoling her.

  “You poor dear,” Jane said sympathetically. “To find you’re married to such a cad, and far from home too, well it’s a terrible thing. Even Mick would be better than this.”

  Three sets of eyes looked at her in stunned surprise before looking toward the kitchen.

  Suddenly Amelia laughed.

  “No, as bad as Hugh is, he cannot compare to that,” she said. “This has to be some kind of mistake.”

  “What if Martha’s not the only one?” Alice whispered, looking around the room. “What if all of these women think they are going to Seattle to marry your husband?”

  That thought had not occurred to Amelia.

  “How did you meet Mr. Jordon, dear?” Jane asked.

  “With a letter much like Martha’s. I answered an ad in the Matrimonial Times.”

  “So did I.”

  “I also answered an ad,” Jane admitted. “But I got a letter back from Dr. Martin. In it he explained Mr. Jordon had found a bride, but if I would like to correspond, it would be acceptable to him. Once I wrote back and told him I was a trained mid-wife, he invited me out to work for him with the possibility of a more personal relationship.”

  “I answered Mr. Jordon’s ad too,” Alice confessed in a hushed whisper. “I received a reply from Mr. Henderson. He said he admired my fortitude and thought I was very brave to answer such an ad. He thought I was lovely and immediately offered marriage. It’s not often you find a man willing to accept another man’s child,” she said, glancing at Delia. “When he sent me his picture, I decided to take a chance and accepted. We were desperate,” she mouthed.

  “I have two children, Alice, but I’ve left them with my mother until I see how things work out,” Jane said sy
mpathetically.

  “I can certainly understand how we all got here,” Amelia said. “The question is, what do we do now?”

  “I think the first thing you should do is find out how many of these young women your husband is engaged to,” Jane suggested sensibly.

  “You’re right,” Amelia agreed, pressing a hand to her tummy. Sitting quietly for a moment, she gathered her composure and stood.

  “Ladies, ladies, if I could have your attention, please.” When the room quieted and all eyes turned to her, she continued. “Since we’re all traveling together, I think it would be nice if we got to know each other a little bit. How many of you are planning on staying in Seattle once we reach our destination?”

  “Where do ya think they’re going from there, you daft girl,” Mick called out. “They’ve come for husbands and there are plenty of single men to go around. God willing, they won’t be making any return voyage on this ship.”

  “Oh be quiet, you old bag of wind,” a small redhead yelled back as she stood. “I think it would be nice to already have a few friends when we get there. I’m Molly Muldoon and I’m planning on staying’ in Seattle. I can’t afford to do anything else,” she said with a grin before sitting down.

  Amelia gave Molly a grateful smile.

  “Thank you, Molly. How many are staying in Seattle, either by choice or necessity?”

  All the women in the room raised their hands.

  “That’s fine. I’m Amelia. Let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves.”

  “Women!” Mick snorted before closing the shutters on the window with a bang.

  “I’m Sara, and this is Lucy and Lydia. We’re all from New York.”

  “My name is Suzanna.”

  “Elinor, but most people call me Ellie.”

  “Clara, from Baltimore.”

  “I’m Mary; it’s nice to meet you all.”

  “Jane.”

  “Martha.”

  “Alice.”

  “I’m Charlotte and I’m from Mississippi.”

  “It’s so very nice to meet you all,” Amelia said, clutching her skirts to dry her damp hands. “I’m wondering how many of us are what they refer to as Mail Order Brides?”

  Every hand went up and she swayed, feeling a little lightheaded.

  “And can you tell me how many are coming at the invitation of Mr. Hugh Jordon, or H, Jordon, as he sometimes signs his name?”

  When nine hands went up, Amelia fainted dead away for the first time in her life. Jane later told her she missed a hell of a brawl.

  Chapter Ten

  It was three days before Hugh saw his wife again. After being summoned by a frantic Charlie, he rushed to the galley where he found all hell breaking loose. Women were screaming and tables and chairs were being overturned in the scuffle. A plate shattered against the beam above his head just as he spotted Amelia surrounded by three women and a small child. Ducking flying pottery he hurried to his wife’s side and pulled her barely conscious body into his arms.

  “Martha, get Alice and Delia out of here,” one woman ordered. “I’ll go with Mr. Jordon and see to Amelia.”

  “Will you be all right, Jane?” Martha asked, glaring at Hugh.

  “I’ll be fine,” she shouted over the din. “Just get out of here.” Urging them toward the door, she looked at Hugh. “I suggest you remove yourself from the line of fire.”

  Hugh carried Amelia to their cabin and placed her gently on the bed. “What the devil is going on?” he demanded, patting his wife’s hand.

  Ignoring his question, Jane wet a cloth and wiped Amelia’s brow. “

  “Go and see if you can find some brandy,” she ordered. “I’ll see to your wife. I’m a nurse.”

  Hugh quickly left the room and soon returned with the liquor. Jane met him at the door. He could see his wife stirring as she lay with a hand over her eyes.

  “How is she?” he asked with obvious concern

  “She should be fine, Mr. Jordon,” Jane replied coolly. “I suggest you find something to keep you occupied,” she continued as she started to close the door.

  “Wait. What happened in the galley that would cause this reaction?”

  “I suspect it had something to do with finding out her new husband also proposed marriage to nine other women,” Jane snapped back as she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him out the door.

  Hugh heard the heavy iron bolt slide home as he stood in the corridor in shock. Moments later he pounded on the door, demanding entrance.

  “I want to know what this is about,” he bellowed. “Amelia is my wife. Let me in this cabin immediately.” There was no response, although he could hear Jane murmuring as she spoke with his wife. Stomping away in defeat, he spent the next three days in hell.

  Although he paced the entire ship several times a day, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife, he never saw her. Amelia never left their cabin. Well-guarded by her minions, she took her meals there and he frequently heard heated conversations and weeping as he passed the door.

  Avoiding the other women was nearly impossible; their paths were bound to cross and he was met with looks ranging from frozen stares to open hostility. Most of them refused to even acknowledge his presence and no matter how many times he demanded entrance into their cabin, it wasn’t granted.

  Hugh took most of his meals in the captain’s quarters, but he wasn’t fit company for man or beast. Frustrated beyond belief, he racked his brain trying to come up with a reasonable explanation of how this could have happened. Apparently, he not only asked Amelia to marry him, but nine other women as well. He had no doubt that upon his return home he would be the laughing stock of Seattle and likely the most hated male in the territory.

  His father was sure to have a good laugh after all his boasting of finding a compliant woman. The only thing he had to look forward to was arriving in Seattle. Once they were off the ship, he would find answers to his questions and hold the responsible parties accountable. He would also have access to his wife.

  How could she think he was capable of such deception? He believed their marriage had a chance of success in the beginning. Unfortunately, he now realized how little faith she had in him. She never even asked if it was true. Just like his mother, she stubbornly refused to consider his feelings. It enraged him to think he married a woman possibly cut from the same cloth as Tempest Jordon. Stubborn, opinionated and defiant, she would make his life a living hell.

  *

  When Amelia finally disembarked from the Mystic Maiden, she was dressed head to toe in black and it infuriated him. His beautiful bride appeared to be in mourning and he wondered if one of the women in her entourage planned to shoot him. They moved down the gangway en masse as he watched from the ship’s rail.

  Hugh had just started down the gangway when his brother Samuel met him.

  “Welcome home,” Sam said, slinging an arm around his back. “Where’s your new bride? Mother and Father are eager to meet her and have planned a welcome home dinner.”

  “See that little speck of black in the middle of those women?” he asked, pointing to the group waiting on the wharf.

  Sam followed his direction and nodded.

  “That’s her.”

  “Well, go and fetch her. Why isn’t she by your side?” he asked, realizing something was very wrong.

  “It’s a long story, and at this point a very ugly one,” Hugh replied.

  “She’s in mourning.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Who died?”

  “No one yet, but it’s still early,” Hugh drawled looking at the sky.

  “I take it you’re not exactly in a state of marital bliss?”

  “Far from it, in fact, I don’t see how things can get any worse.” Watching a huge crowd of men gather around the women, Hugh clenched his fists. He wanted to go down there, push his way through the women and toss Amelia over his shoulder. There were too many hungry eyes for his liking. She should be home with him, getting her naug
hty ass paddled good. How dare she believe him capable of such trickery, such underhanded, conniving deceit?

  They were nearly at the bottom of the gangway when Sam stopped with a groan.

  “What is it?”

  “You have to eat your words, brother. Things are about to get much, much worse. Look.”

  Hugh turned just in time to see his mother’s carriage approach. Moving quickly, he made his way closer to the crowd surrounding his wife. His mother’s voice carried to him on the breeze as she quickly exited her carriage as soon as it pulled to a stop.

  “Amelia, Amelia,” she cried.

  Recognizing the high pitched accented voice, the throng parted and let her through. Despite how annoying the men found her, she was still the wife of their employer.

  “Oh, my darling, ma petit cabbage, I’m so happy to finally meet you,” she sang, enfolding the shocked Amelia into her arms. “I am your new ma ma. Welcome, sweet angel. Your pa pa and I have planned the most wonderful celebration for you. Come, we must leave before he becomes impatient. I will send for your trunks,” she said, taking Amelia’s arm and pulling her toward her carriage. “Why are you in black, Cheri? It is most unbecoming, but no matter. I will take you to Paris for a whole new trousseau. Oh, we will have so much fun, spending your husband’s money!” She laughed, threading her arm through Amelia’s. “By the way, where is my son?”

  “Madam,” Amelia began. “I must speak with you, privately,” she hissed.

  “What, my angel? You may tell your new ma ma anything. I adore secrets.”

  Looking at the small effervescent woman beside her, Amelia hesitated. Hugh hadn’t said one complimentary thing regarding his mother. She wondered whether her acceptance hinged on this woman’s good will. Glancing back, she saw her husband’s tall figure working through the crowd. Coming to a swift decision, she signaled to Jane to wait a moment and climbed into Tempest Jordon’s carriage.

  Moments later the door flew open and Tempest bolted out.