Hope_Bride of New Jersey

by Amelia C. Adams

  She heard hoof beats coming from far off and stood up to see if she could tell where they were coming from. The lane that led to Hazelbrook was so long, surely any horses that passed on the road below were too far away to hear. It must be Mr. Edwards, home at long last.

  “Make haste! Make haste!” Mrs. Green called out when Hope stepped inside to tell her. “Blanche, are the decorations in the dining room ready? Hannah, has the bread been taken from the oven?” Maids Hope had never even met scurried around underfoot, all seemingly in a panic. Hope couldn’t blame them, actually—she felt a bit of panic as well. If only Mr. Edwards had said good-bye to her before he left. If only she knew what he was thinking and feeling.

  The guests were shown to their rooms, and Mr. Edwards did not send for her. Hope dressed slowly, wanting to look her very best for this night. The seamstress had been right—this shade of blue did suit her, and the dress was simply stunning. Had she ever imagined herself looking so elegant? No—her dreams had never carried her that far.

  When the bell rang for dinner, she descended the stairs slowly, grasping the railing. It would be too great a pity to lose her footing, and her knees hardly felt strong enough to support her weight. The ladies down below were dressed in various satins and silks, and Hope inwardly thanked Mrs. Green for insisting she have a new gown made. Now she could hold her own with their company and not feel ashamed.

  As she reached the last few steps, she looked up and saw Mr. Edwards watching her. The look on his face was everything she could have wanted—appreciation, and perhaps admiration as well. He stepped forward and took her arm, guiding her down the last step and into the parlor.

  She took a seat near the fire, content to listen as everyone else chattered. There were four men in the group, and four ladies she assumed to be their wives. Addie was brought in by Mrs. Green with the reminder that she would eat with the company and then be taken off to bed—little girls were not allowed to stay up as late as the grownups. Addie took a seat next to Hope and folded her hands neatly on her lap.

  “I see you chose the pink gown,” Hope whispered.

  “Yes. Uncle Edwards once told me it makes me look like a little rose. I thought that was a very nice compliment.”

  “It was indeed. You chose well.”

  One of the women spied Addie and crowed with delight. “Come here, child, come here. Let us have a look at you.”

  Addie glanced at Hope, who nodded, and then she walked across the room and curtsied. “Oh, she’s charming,” the woman said. “Such a dainty little soul. Where did you come from, young lady?”

  “I was born in New York, ma’am,” Addie said with another curtsy.

  “I took her in five years ago after the passing of her mother,” Mr. Edwards said. “Run along, Addie. Children are to be seen and not heard.”

  Addie smiled and resumed her seat beside Hope. For the first time, the people in the room seemed to notice that Hope was even present.

  “Tell me, Roscoe, where did you find this other enchanting creature?” the woman asked, turning to Mr. Edwards. Her question startled Hope on two counts. First, to be called an enchanting creature, and second, she had never heard Mr. Edwards’ given name. “Is she also an orphan in need of a home? I say, your generosity astounds me.”

  “I found her in the most unlikely of places,” Mr. Edwards replied. “She responded to an advertisement I placed for a mail-order bride.”

  The woman who had posed the question laughed merrily. “Oh, Roscoe, you have always had such a sense of humor.” Then she stilled. “What? Are you serious? That’s how you met?”

  “Indeed. My housekeeper suggested it, and a scant month later, Miss Middleton arrived on my doorstep.”

  One of the men chortled. “That seems an easy way to go about it. No more of this courting nonsense, eh? Just send away for what you want, and she’s delivered in the noon mail?”

  Hope’s cheeks flamed. Of course, she’d had the same thought herself while reading The Grooms’ Gazette, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a derisive tone of voice, made it seem all the more ridiculous. Why had she done this? Of course, she’d felt she was out of options, but surely one could have remained that wouldn’t have been so humiliating.

  “What a world we live in,” another of the gentlemen said. “I can go to town and have a suit made to my exact measurements, and now we can send away for any sort of wife we want. What’s next—shall we purchase children to our specifications too? I certainly wouldn’t mind that—my oldest son isn’t living up to my expectations, and I’d like to trade him in for something better.” Everyone laughed merrily.

  The conversation turned to something else, and after a moment, Hope slipped out of the parlor and headed for the stairs. She needed a moment to contain herself.

  “Miss Middleton.”

  Mr. Edwards had followed her out and walked toward her across the entryway. “Why did you leave?”

  “I’m tired, sir,” Hope replied.

  “But you didn’t even say goodnight. I thought that after being separated for so long, you would speak to me.”

  Hope opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  “Come now, Miss Middleton. If you have something to say, surely you ought to say it.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Are you certain that’s what you want, sir?”

  “Of course. Why would I request it if I didn’t mean it?”

  “Very well. It seems that if you were interested in speaking to me, you would have said goodbye before you left. I’m rather confused as to your intentions, Mr. Edwards. Am I here as your wife, or as Addie’s governess? I stand here ready to marry you, and yet I have no clear indication as to your feelings.”

  Mr. Edwards peered at her curiously. “You are forthright, Miss Middleton. And you are correct. I should have spoken to you before I left, but I had received a telegram informing me of a shipwreck, and if I moved quickly, I would be able to purchase the goods from that wreck for a quarter of the price and resell them. It was a business proposition I couldn’t refuse, and I hated the thought of waking you after you’d been up so late the night before. I apologize.” He bowed his head.

  “I see,” Hope replied, somewhat mollified, but not entirely. “Were you able to make good on that deal, then?”

  “I was indeed. In three short weeks, I was able to generate enough income for six months for my employees and associates. It was well worth my time. It was not, however, worth gaining your displeasure.”

  “I’m not displeased,” Hope said, even though it ran nearer the truth than she cared to admit. “I was confused. That’s all.”

  “I will discuss such things with you in the future. Now, will you please join us, or are you still tired?” He held out his elbow.

  “I might also ask, sir, why my position in this household is such a mystery to your guests. I was not introduced as your intended—they believed me to be another one of your charities. I found that humiliating and distressing, sir. If I’m to be your wife, I should be introduced as such.”

  Mr. Edwards gave a slight bow. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. One of my biggest failings is my shortsightedness. Our arrangement is so new that I didn’t give it the weight I should. Please forgive me, Miss Middleton, and join us for dinner. I would be most disappointed if you didn’t, and I know Addie would be as well.”

  “Your apology is accepted, and I will join you.” Hope slid her arm through his, and warmth spread throughout her body. She liked feeling his strength through his suit coat as he escorted her back to the party. His explanation had been clumsy and it didn’t answer all her concerns, but she was willing to wait until another day when they had more time to talk it out in detail.

  Dinner was a masterpiece. After Addie ate every last bit of her dessert, she was sent up to bed, and the ladies and gentlemen retired to the parlor. The outspoken woman from before, Mrs. Gaskins, whose name Hope had finally caught during dinner, took a seat in the center of the room and regaled everyone with her
opinions on each thing that crossed her mind. Hope was content to sit along the side of the room and observe everyone else.

  “I long for a game of Charades,” one of the other ladies said. “What do you say, Roscoe?”

  Mr. Edwards looked around the room. “This looks like a good group for it. Miss Middleton, will you play?”

  Hope shook her head. She hadn’t played Charades since that summer with her friends from the mill, and she wasn’t any good at it. Tabitha and Trinity would be the first to agree with her on that.

  “That’s all right, dear,” Mrs. Gaskins said. “Not everyone can be skilled at everything.”

  Hope nearly opened her mouth to retort, but just smiled instead. If she and Mr. Edwards were already married, she doubted she would be treated like this.

  Speaking of Mr. Edwards, where was he? He had been standing by the fireplace just a moment before, and now he was nowhere to be seen. Hope supposed he’d just stepped out for a moment.

  Soon, all the guests were busy playing Charades, and Hope watched on. She wished she had some knitting or something else to do with her hands, but she didn’t, so she amused herself by making up stories about the people in the room. Each of them must have a dark, tragic past, and she invented them.

  A few moments later, a knock sounded on the parlor door, and one of the guests, a gentleman named Mr. Faber, went to answer it. “It’s a gypsy woman,” he announced. “She has come to read our fortunes. Who would like their fortunes read?”

  “Oh, I would,” Mrs. Gaskins said. “Send her in.”

  “She says she’ll see us all one at a time in the drawing room,” Mr. Faber replied.

  Mrs. Gaskins bustled out of the room, and everyone else fell to talking.

  “This is rather thrilling,” Mrs. Andrews said. She was a fairly quiet lady—Hope had only heard her speak a few times, and it had taken her most of dinner to remember her name. “I’ve always longed to have my fortune told.”

  “I thought your fortune was rather obvious, my dear,” her husband said. “After all, you’re married to quite a charming fellow and live in a fine house.”

  “True, but what about travel or adventures? What else might happen to us?”

  “I suppose the gypsy will tell you,” Mr. Faber said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

  One by one, each of the guests disappeared into the other room. Mrs. Andrews reported that she would be taking a trip around the world within a year, news which seemed to please her greatly. After everyone had their turn, Hope supposed the gypsy would leave, but Mr. Faber came and held out his elbow.

  “You are to have a turn, Miss Middleton,” he said. “The gypsy said her mission here was not complete until she had spoken to everyone in the room. She specifically mentioned the young woman sitting in the corner.”

  Hope raised an eyebrow. She really didn’t want to be included, but if she had been sent for . . . “Very well.” She allowed Mr. Faber to lead the way.

  The gypsy sat in front of the fire in the drawing room, holding her gnarled hands out to the flames. Her face was heavily veiled, and Hope couldn’t make out her features at all.

  “You were reluctant to come in, child,” she said, her voice husky.

  “I confess, I’m not a believer in fortunes,” Hope replied.

  “That’s quite all right. You don’t need to believe—I can see it all quite clearly. You have come to this house for a purpose . . . to be wed.”

  “That’s correct,” Hope replied. This woman could have gleaned that much information from any of the other guests in the house. “I’m to marry Mr. Edwards.”

  “Ah, and where is this Mr. Edwards? I have not read his fortune this night.”

  “I don’t know where he is. He seems to have disappeared.”

  “Very mysterious. Very mysterious indeed.”

  “We seem to have many mysteries in this house,” Hope replied. She didn’t mean anything by her casual remark, but the gypsy’s eyes lit up.

  “You do indeed. And you are not above them, Miss Middleton. You are one of them.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes, you are. Here you sit, half wild creature, half woman, full of mysteries. You prefer to sit and watch rather than participating. What goes on in that head of yours, Miss Middleton? Why do you hold yourself so aloof?”

  Hope lifted one shoulder. “I prefer to study faces and mannerisms, I suppose. I’ve always kept to myself—parties hold very little interest for me.”

  “Hmmm.” The gypsy looked at her shrewdly. “And would you like to know what the future holds for you?”

  “What if I believe that I create my own future—that it is a result of my choices and my actions, rather than a decision made by fate?”

  “You are a tricky one, aren’t you? This opinion certainly makes my task more difficult.” The gypsy reached out and took Hope’s hand, studying it. “Hmmm. I will get no information here tonight. Let me see your face.”

  Hope turned toward the fire, where the light from the flames could shine on her face. The gypsy leaned forward and stared at her, humming under her breath the whole time. Hope wanted to squirm away, but she didn’t.

  “I see a determined strength of character in that face, an unerring focus on doing what is right,” the gypsy said. “Also a great toleration for the faults and failings of others. Mr. Edwards is a fortunate man indeed to have found someone so likely to be forgiving of his weaknesses.”

  “I haven’t yet discovered his weaknesses,” Hope said. As she spoke, she realized she’d forgotten about the way he had left without discussing his trip with her, but that matter wasn’t any of the gypsy’s business.

  “Ah, but you will in time,” the woman said with a small laugh. “He will not be able to hide them for long, and your patience will serve you well. You must prepare yourself for hardships, too—difficulties that will test your mind and spirit.”

  Hope shook her head. “What sorts of difficulties?”

  “That I cannot see, but your life path is not an easy one. It never has been, though, has it?”

  “No. Not in the slightest.”

  “And yet you have come through it. How have you managed it?”

  Hope contemplated that question. “I suppose that through it all, I was too stubborn to give up,” she said at last.

  “You consider yourself stubborn?” the gypsy asked.

  “To a fault.”

  The woman laughed. “Then we are two peas in a pod, Miss Middleton, are we not?”

  Hope blinked. The woman’s voice had changed and was no longer husky, but was the voice of a man—Mr. Edwards, to be exact. He pulled off the veil and smiled at her. “Are you surprised at my little game?”

  “Quite,” she said, shaking her head with amusement. “You make quite the unexpected gypsy woman. What did the other guests think of your disguise?”

  “I don’t think a single one of them guessed it—or if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. I thought you would have discovered me right off.”

  “I don’t think we know each other quite that well yet, sir,” Hope replied.

  Mr. Edwards stood and took her hand. “We must do something about that as soon as we can,” he replied.

  ***

  An hour or so later, a knock sounded on the door. Hope heard voices in the entryway, and then Mrs. Green entered the room. “Mr. Edwards, there’s a gentleman here to see you. He gave his name as Halifax. I showed him to your study.”

  Mr. Edwards came to his feet immediately. “Everyone, please continue to visit, and help yourself to port and cigars. I must see to this visitor.”

  One or two of the gentlemen refilled their glasses, but then the couples began to excuse themselves. Hope stayed below until everyone had gone off to bed, then she climbed the stairs as well. She was grateful for the explanation she’d received from Mr. Edwards about his trip, amused by his portrayal of the gypsy woman, and eager to speak to him alone and unhurried to learn more about his trip.

  She
didn’t change for bed immediately, hoping that Mr. Edwards would come seek her out after his visitor left. But after an hour had gone by, she determined that he wasn’t coming. She changed out of her gown, hanging the lovely frock beside her plain ones in the wardrobe, wondering when she’d next be able to wear it. Then she slid into bed, her muslin nightgown feeling rough against her skin after that silky satin. One night of rich living had spoiled her, it would seem. She laughed at herself as she sank deeper into her pillows.

  Chapter Seven

  A cry woke Hope that night, a sound that seemed more animal than human. She sat up, her heart pounding, and grabbed her robe. What was it this time—yet another fire? And why were the nights so often interrupted in this house?

  As she raced down the hallway, she heard yet another cry. The sound was coming from that small, dark hallway, the one where she’d first met Ann. When she reached it, she nearly ran into Mr. Edwards.

  “I need you,” he said, taking her by the elbow and leading her into the room at the end of that hallway.

  There on the bed lay a young man Hope didn’t recognize—he hadn’t been part of their dinner company. “Is this Mr. Halifax?” she asked.

  “Yes, but that is all you are to know. I need you to tend his wounds while I fetch the doctor.”

  “His wounds?” Hope took a step closer, and that’s when she saw the gash in the man’s side. It was oozing with blood, turning his shirt and the bed sheet crimson. “Sir! What happened?”

  “Never mind. Just see to it that he’s tended while I’m gone. Do not ask him any questions. Halifax, you’re not to speak with her, either.” Then Mr. Edwards was gone, leaving Hope alone with a strange man she was not allowed to question.

  She took a clean corner of the bed sheet and pressed it to his side. He grimaced, but made no sound. Who was this man, and what on earth had happened to him? He had clearly been attacked—this was no self-inflicted wound—but who had done it, and why?