Rachel (Bride Brigade Book 5)

by Caroline Clemmons

  Bride Brigade:

  Rachel

  Book Five

  By

  Caroline Clemmons

  Bride Brigade: Rachel

  Book Five

  Caroline Clemmons

  Copyright 2016 Caroline Clemmons

  Cover Graphics

  Front cover Skye Moncrief

  Back cover Lilburn Smith

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Virginia, April 4, 1873

  Rachel Ross gave thanks as she stepped into fresh air. The prison doors closed with a loud clank behind her. Up until then, she had feared someone would tell her that her release was a mistake, and that she must remain inside the dreadful place. When no one did, she allowed herself a deep breath.

  Was this the same air as inside the prison? Somehow the breeze that kissed her skin now smelled fresher, sweeter. Even the pewter sky didn’t diminish freedom’s joy.

  Her older brother, Patrick, rushed to envelope her in a giant embrace that lifted her off the ground. Though they favored each other, his dark hair was a shade lighter than her coal black and he stood a good head taller. “I’m happy you’re free, Sissie. We’ve a tiring trip home. Let’s leave the sight of this awful penitentiary.”

  “I can’t put this place behind me fast enough. The only things that kept me sane were your letters and the promise of release.”

  He helped her into the hansom cab he had waiting. “You’ve lost weight. Are you unwell? I’ve heard terrible tales about conditions in the penitentiary.”

  Rachel nodded. “Any the hateful stories are probably true. My spirits have been exceedingly low, of course, but my health is good enough.”

  He handed her a valise. “I brought this to hold your things.”

  She ran her hand over the thick, shiny leather and the brass fastener. “How thoughtful. Oh, I can’t wait to get home. As soon as I’ve said hello to everyone, I’m going to take a long, long bath.” She opened the brown valise and transferred her few belongings from a bundle into the case.

  He gazed at her. “I see your hair has grown out. I’m sorry you had to endure such indignities.”

  Rachel closed her eyes momentarily. Having her head shaved because of a severe lice infestation had happened only six months after she’d arrived in prison.

  “Thank you again for the Persian Insect Powder you sent. I wouldn’t have wanted to endure that again.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “Fill me in on what’s new in your life?”

  “I wrote you I’ve been seeing Dahlia Forrest. Things are getting serious between us.”

  She clasped his arm. “That’s wonderful. She’s sweet. Her parents wouldn’t let her visit me, but she wrote me a couple of notes—the only friend who did.”

  “Her parents have made clear they believe I’m unsuitable. Thank goodness Dahlia doesn’t agree with them. Seeing her requires clandestine meetings and that angers me.”

  “You both deserve better.” She shuddered. “Patrick, a detective visited me yesterday. He’s convinced I have the stolen money stashed somewhere. What will I do if he comes again?”

  He pretended to take a fighting position with his fists. “I’ll punch him in the nose and send him on his way.”

  “That’s a sweet thought, but you mustn’t do anything to bring trouble. We don’t need you in jail, too.”

  “There must be a reward for the return of the money Forsythe embezzled. If there is, I suspect you haven’t seen the last of the detective.”

  Soon she and her brother were aboard the train headed home to Richmond. Would the detective appear again? What if he followed her everywhere?

  Tension filled her, worry about whether her sisters would have mellowed in her absence. The three had been angry with her for what they called her “disgrace”, as if she had planned for her employer to frame her for embezzlement merely to spite them. Anxiety knotted her nerves and her head pounded. She closed her eyes to rest them a moment.

  Patrick gently shook her, his deep baritone soft and kind. “Wake up, Sissie. We’re in Richmond.”

  Rachel roused and stretched. How could she have drowsed against Patrick’s shoulder when she was overwhelmed with concerns about her future? She had been too overwhelmed for much sleep the last few nights and exhaustion plagued her. Chugging to a stop, steam and smoke billowed from the train’s firebox and sent cinders into the car.

  With a tremendous thunderclap, the threatening sky delivered a storm. Cold, hard rain pelted them. He flagged a hansom cab and helped her inside.

  Patrick’s expression was somber. “Glad you’re finally with us again, but I may as well prepare you. Your reception from the others may lack warmth.”

  “Lack warmth after three years’ separation? What does that mean?” She smoothed the skirt of the dress she’d worn to prison. The garment had been carelessly folded and stored with mothballs. She hated the smell.

  He faced her, his brown eyes so like hers held remorse. “Didn’t intend to frighten you, I’m just insuring you’re prepared. You know I’m overjoyed to have you free again.”

  Thunder rumbled overhead and the bright flash of lightning streaked the sky. The storm beating against the buildings they passed on their drive through Richmond matched her dread-filled mood. Changes had occurred in the city but they were unimportant now. Patrick closed the side curtains to protect the two of them. Wiping clammy hands on her skirt, Rachel worried about her greeting at home.

  Obviously her family’s reaction to her homecoming was unpleasant enough that her brother needed to warn her. Patrick had always defended her and she thought of him as her champion. At least he hadn’t changed, hadn’t blamed her for her incarceration.

  Only the thought of returning home had kept her going during her unjust imprisonment. For three years she’d anticipated leaving her dismal surroundings and being restored to the bosom of her family and friends. Fighting to shut out memories of the prison’s horrid conditions, she focused on the buggy ride.

  When the cab stopped in front of the family’s home, she climbed out before Patrick could exit and come around to help her. After grabbing her valise, she dashed through the rain and into the house. Rachel found her mother, father, and three younger sisters waiting in the parlor. She dropped her bag and ran to throw her arms around her mother.

  “Mama, I’ve missed you.”

  Her mother patted her back then pulled away. Mama’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope you had a pleasant journey.”

  Rachel stood gazing from one sister to the next. The sight made prickles crawl along her skin. None of her three sisters even greeted her. Standing together, each stared at her with a stony expression.

  She gazed from one to the other. “Aren’t you at least going to greet me?

  Ruth crossed her arms. “And why should we? People have only recently started speaking to us again.”

  Sarah pointed her finger. “Because of you, we’ve been outcasts.”

  Hands stretched in front of her, Rachel pled, “But I’m innocent. Surely you can’t blame me because my employer framed me to cover his embezzlement.”

  One
eyebrow raised, Hannah glared at her. “The court didn’t believe your story. Why do you expect we should?”

  Rachel met Hannah’s angry stare. “Because I’m your sister and you know I’m an honest person.”

  Patrick put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t let them hurt you. They’ve had a rough time socially and they’ve decided to take things out on you.” He leaned near so only she could hear. “Remember, I told you Hannah’s fiancé broke off their engagement because of the notoriety. She’s bitter toward you instead of that spineless blackguard who deserted her.”

  Her father stood with hands in his pockets. “For your sisters’ sakes, your mother and I think you should go elsewhere, Rachel, and as soon as possible. Your presence here will only revive the disgrace you brought on the family.”

  Mama took her hand. “Try to understand, dear. Your sisters will have no prospects for marriage with you living here. And, simply put, you would have no future in Richmond.”

  Rachel had believed her arrest, mockery of a trial, and imprisonment were the worst things possible. She’d been wrong. Betrayal by those closest to her was far more devastating. Only Patrick had a sad smile for her.

  Three years in prison had taught her to hide her feelings. Heart breaking, Rachel held her head high and met her father’s gaze. “May I stay long enough to find somewhere else to live or must I leave now?”

  Papa nodded. “You have a week, Rachel. And please don’t swan about in public and remind everyone you’ve returned.”

  Anger dampened her crushed feelings. “Swan about? If I stay inside the house, how am I to find somewhere to go?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of a way.” Scowling, her father pivoted on his heels and went toward his study.

  “Mother, do I have a place to sleep?”

  Hannah, the sister with whom she’d shared a room before her arrest, crossed her arms. “I’m certainly not sharing with you after what you’ve done.”

  Mama glanced from Hannah to Rachel. “I’ve fixed you a place in my sewing room. Your clothes and things are already there.”

  Not even allowed to return to her former room? “Fine. At least I’ll have privacy.”

  Scooping up her valise, she turned and fled to the sewing room.

  Patrick followed and caught up with her before she closed the door. “Dahlia and I’ve been scouring our brains since I learned of our parents’ plan. I may have a solution.” He handed her a folded newspaper page with one advertisement circled. “What do you think?”

  Rachel read the item:

  “Young women of good character desiring to go west for the purpose of marriage may apply for an interview between ten and four o’clock in the afternoon from April 5th to 10th at the Grand Hotel, Richmond, care of Mrs. Lydia Harrison.”

  “Good character? This Mrs. Lydia Harrison might not agree I qualify.” She reread the item as she mulled over the implications. “Regardless, I’ll go see her at ten tomorrow.” She hugged Patrick. “I knew I could count on you, dear brother.”

  “You’ll have to thank Dahlia for that advertisement. It wasn’t in the parts of the paper I read.”

  Her plans for the future had changed. Instead of a warm welcome from her family, she was ostracized by all but her brother. In her head, she saw the wisdom of her father’s edict. In her heart, she was far too crushed for reason. She wouldn’t remain a second longer than necessary. She had to find a quick solution.

  Patrick leaned a shoulder against the door jamb. “I’ll take off work again to go with you and be certain this woman isn’t a con artist soliciting young women for unsavory purposes.”

  Rachel forced a smile though her heart had frozen solid. “No, Patrick, thank you for coming for me and for being the same fine man I remember, but I should do this alone. The ad says ‘for the purpose of marriage’ and I’ll be sure of the details before I commit—if she even chooses me.”

  “At least let me give you a few dollars to pay cab fare there and back and enough to buy lunch if you’re out then.” He opened his wallet and removed several bills, which he pressed into her hand.

  She stared at the amount. “Ten dollars? Patrick, this is too much.”

  He backed away as he held his hands palm facing her. “You’ve no idea what expenses will occur. I’ll worry enough without thinking you have no resources.”

  She dropped the cash into her purse. “Thank you. You’re the dearest brother who ever lived.”

  His cheeky grin cheered her. “In all modesty, I must agree with you.”

  Rachel remained in the sewing room until the house was quiet. Moving as silently as possible, she carried her oldest pair of cotton gloves and the towel Mama had left for her. She washed her hair and sponged her body at the kitchen sink.

  Not the long, hot bath she’d yearned for, but at least she’d be clean. Whether true or not, she thought she carried the prison’s dank smell with her. As she scrubbed, she wondered how much scouring was required to remove the scent of three years of prison from her skin.

  After drying off and wrapping her hair in a towel, she scooted a chair in front of the large cook stove. Although the fire in the range was out, heat radiated from red embers. She sat in front of the open door and dried her hair.

  When she’d braided the dry strands, she found her mother’s lard can. She smeared lard on both hands then pulled on the gloves. Tomorrow she’d get soothing cream, but this would help her be presentable for her visit to Mrs. Harrison. Rachel made certain to leave the kitchen as she’d found it and hurried to the sewing room.

  She settled into bed and exhaustion sent her to sleep. A terrible nightmare gripped her and she awakened clammy and gasping for breath. How long before prison life’s terrors ceased to haunt her?

  After her restless night, Rachel hardly felt refreshed. She dreaded seeing her sisters at breakfast. Standing straight and lifting her chin, she strolled into the kitchen. Her family was gathering for the meal.

  Patrick opened his napkin across his lap. “Nice morning now that the rain has stopped.”

  No one else spoke. Rachel raised her eyebrows at her brother and he shrugged. The only sounds were the crunch of toast and the rattle of cutlery.

  Papa and Patrick had finished and left for the office when the door buzzer sounded. Rachel was washing dishes while Hannah and Sarah dried. Her sisters conversed with one another but not with her. Mama was swept the floor and Ruth put the dishes back into the cupboard.

  Ruth set down a plate. “I’ll go.”

  When she returned, her eyes were like saucers. Following her into the kitchen was the detective who’d visited the prison, Richard Brown.

  By this time, Rachel had used her reserve of politeness. “How dare you come to my family’s home.”

  “Haversham wants his money, Miss Ross.”

  “I don’t have the money. I never had the money. If you want to recover the money, you’d better get it from Howard Forsythe.”

  He smirked at her. “Ah, was he your partner in the embezzlement scheme?”

  She picked up the cast iron skillet her mother had used cooking eggs and strode toward the detective. “You narrow-minded, petty imbecile, get this through your thick noggin. I. Am. Innocent. Now get out.” She raised the just-cleaned skillet, ready to swing at the odious man’s head. “Now, do you hear?”

  Raising a hand to block her blow should she deliver one, he backed away. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

  Hannah’s angry glare awaited her when she turned back to the sink. “You’re bringing more trouble to us.”

  Sarah sobbed, “Just when people were starting to talk to us again, you had to show up and ruin things.”

  Rachel was in a vortex of assault. “You can be certain I’ll be leaving here as soon as possible.” The room swirled as she staggered to the sewing room. Except for her brother, she didn’t believe she could ever trust anyone again.

  Chapter Two

  Rachel quietly left her home in time to arrive at the Grand Hotel w
ell before ten o’clock. When she asked for Mrs. Harrison, the hotel’s reception clerk frowned.

  “She won’t admit you until ten.”

  “I want to be first in line. I hope I am.”

  He shrugged. “Room 210.”

  “Thank you.” She proceeded up the stairs as elegantly as she could manage.

  Rachel straightened her shoulders and stood beside the door marked 210. She hadn’t worn a corset but still kept her spine straight and a pleasant expression on her face. Her heart pounded a tattoo and she had difficulty drawing breath. Never in her life had she fainted, and this wasn’t the time to start.

  Presently, she saw two women walking toward her. One was young, possibly in her late twenties, and dressed elegantly in lavender silk trimmed in purple. Her chestnut hair was perfectly coiffed in a neat chignon.

  The other woman appeared to be about fifty and wore a burgundy faille dress only slightly less stylish than the first. Gray threaded through her dark hair worn in a bun. Both women smiled as they approached.

  At the door, the young one took out a key. “Have you come to be interviewed regarding the ad?”

  Rachel nodded. “My name is Rachel Ross. I know I’m early, but I’m eager to be accepted.”

  “Nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m Lydia Harrison and my friend is Mrs. Sophie Gaston. You may as well come inside rather than stand in the hall for another thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Harrison.” Rachel followed the two women into a luxurious suite.

  As composed as if she were hosting a tea, Mrs. Harrison’s elegant silk gown swished as she moved behind a small desk. She gestured to a chair facing her. “Please sit down, Miss Ross. Tell me about yourself and why you wish to go West to marry.”

  Fear and misgivings overwhelmed Rachel. Should she be honest? If not, what story could she concoct that would sound credible?

  With a sigh, she gave into honesty. “My family has asked me to leave not only our home, but the Richmond area. Slightly over three years ago I worked doing accounts for the manager of a prominent import and export company. I didn’t realize he kept a second set of books and was embezzling.”