Hope_Bride of New Jersey

by Amelia C. Adams

  Hope turned her face away again. She didn’t want to see penitence in his eyes. What he had done went far beyond a simple apology.

  “The night of the fire?” she asked.

  “Yes, that was Agnes. She has a fascination with fire, and had managed to get out of her room. She hates me for shutting her away and wants me dead. I understand her feelings—I would hate me too, were I in her place.”

  Hope didn’t want to put herself in Agnes’s place. She didn’t want to try to feel compassion—the pain was too fresh, too raw, too awful.

  “Listen to me, please. We could have been happy, you and I. We would have lived as man and wife, with no one the wiser. I would have loved you like no man has ever loved a woman. And we still can, Hope—you can pretend none of this ever happened, and we can be together.”

  Her eyes flew to his. “I . . . don’t believe it,” she whispered, almost too shocked to speak. “Have you lost your senses? Do you honestly think that I could live here with you, as your wife and yet not your wife, and be happy? You’re asking me to break both the laws of the land and the laws of God. No, Mr. Edwards, I will not do it. I must live with myself every day, and if I can’t hold my head up high and feel worthy to associate with decent people, there’s no point to my life.”

  “Please, Hope.” His eyes were almost wild now. “You are my one chance. Can you deny me the happiness I’ve so long been denied?”

  “Your situation is neither my fault nor mine to fix. You would have allowed me to think that our marriage was real, all the while knowing that it was nothing more than a scribble on a piece of paper. I owe you nothing, Mr. Edwards. No happiness, no apology, no regret.” The lump in her stomach disappeared and was replaced by fire. She was no longer sad—she was angry. “I’m sorry for her illness. I’m sorry for your suffering. Neither excuses your deceit. You are not free to marry anyone, and so I am not free to marry you. Now leave me in peace, Mr. Edwards. I’m quite tired and would like to rest.”

  “Hope—”

  “I ask you to leave my room, sir.”

  He gazed at her another moment, despair in his eyes, but then he nodded once and stood to leave. “Shall I send Mrs. Green with a tray?”

  “I meant what I said. I’m not hungry.”

  He nodded again and slipped out the door.

  Hope pressed her lips together, trying to contain the fury that was building. She had considered herself so blessed, so fortunate to be chosen out of all the girls who must have written in to the matchmaker. Fortunate? To be dragged into the middle of this nightmare? She thanked the Lord Mr. Bradley came into the chapel when he did. What if she had learned of Agnes a year after the so-called wedding, when she was heavy with child? The revelation could have been so much worse—she had narrowly escaped.

  She sat near the fire until dusk began to fall. She had so few options, but one thing she did have that she would hold dear—her self-respect. Stirred into action by this thought, she stood up and went through her wardrobe and drawers, pulling out the few things she considered hers.

  She’d thrown away her old clothing when she bought the new dresses back in Massachusetts, rightly believing it was too threadbare to be of much use. She took only the pink dress, aside from the yellow she wore, her portfolio, and her underthings. She counted the bills and coins in her reticule—she hadn’t yet given Mr. Edwards the money she had left over from her journey, and she decided to take it with her. It didn’t belong to her, but she needed it, and she would pay him back as soon as she found another position. She would show him what it meant to have integrity.

  As she worked, tears continued to roll down her cheeks, stinging the gashes. She looked in the mirror—she couldn’t be seen like this. As she glanced around the room, she noticed her wedding veil, which she had draped over the dress. That would work. She found a pair of scissors in the sewing basket she’d borrowed from Mrs. Green for some mending, picked up the edge of the veil, and cut off the bottom. Then she used a needle and thread to affix the veil to her hat. She was no haberdasher, but the effect was rather nice, and it would work to hide her face from the world once she left the house.

  Then she opened the door of her bedroom and peeked outside. The house was dark—no lights had been turned on yet, so it was easy to creep down the stairs and slip out unnoticed. As she began her descent, she felt a pang of regret. She wished she could say her good-byes to Addie and to Mrs. Green. The child had been a delightful surprise, filling her days with the joy of discovery. Mrs. Green had been a true friend and in many ways, a mentor. But if she said good-bye, the delay might alert Mr. Edwards that she was leaving, and she didn’t want him trying to stop her. His efforts wouldn’t do any good, but it would be uncomfortable, and she’d already been through enough.

  As she crept through the entryway, she noticed an envelope with her name on it on the small table by the door. She picked it up and tucked it away with her things, not even curious who it was from.

  Once outside, she pulled the heavy wooden door closed and bid Hazelbrook farewell in her heart. She would walk the two miles to Newark if need be—it wasn’t that far, and the exercise would help temper her anger.

  As chance would have it, no one came along the road to offer her a ride, so she did walk the full distance. She hardly felt it, though. Her mind was so consumed by everything that had happened that she reached the train station seemingly in no time. It was still and dark, and she wondered when the next train was scheduled to arrive. She would sit right there on the bench for as long as she needed to.

  The question now, of course, was where to go. She cast around in her mind for a moment before settling on an answer—she would go to Missouri. Out of all the girls at the mill, she had been closest to Tabitha, and she was sure that her friend would take her in. From there, she would advertise for a governess post. She would never again consider becoming a mail-order bride—not after what had just happened.

  She shook her head. Right from the start, she had worried about false advertisements. Mr. Edwards should have included in his, “Still married, but have locked first wife in a secret room.” That would have been the forthright thing to do, wouldn’t it?

  After several minutes, exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted off to sleep. It didn’t last long, however, because the station master arrived to get things ready for the next train.

  “Where to, miss?” he asked, looking at her curiously. She wondered if he was trying to see behind the veil she wore, but then she decided she was just feeling self-conscious about it.

  “Missouri, please.”

  He let out a low whistle. “That’s a fair piece. I take it things didn’t work out so well at Hazelbrook.”

  How did he know . . . then she remembered that he’d arranged for her buggy when she first arrived. She smiled. “Everything’s fine. How much is the ticket, please?”

  She slid her change back into her bag and sat down to wait again. The westbound train would be there in twenty minutes, and then she would be on her way to a new life, leaving this insanity behind.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hope startled awake when she heard the whistle of the train. She hadn’t expected to doze off, but the emotional upset of the day, plus her brisk walk, had exhausted her. She blinked several times to clear her vision, then stood as the train pulled to a stop. It wouldn’t be leaving again for several minutes, but she wanted the chance to stretch her legs. She didn’t know how long it would be until the train made its next stop.

  A short time later, she showed her ticket to the conductor and settled in for a fairly long journey. She glanced out her window, wondering if Mr. Edwards had discovered her absence yet, wondering if he would come after her, but she didn’t see him. Part of her was quite glad, but another part of her was disappointed. Strange how she could feel two such conflicting emotions at the same time. It was almost as though she didn’t know her own mind.

  She shook her head. Of course she knew her own mind. She couldn’t stay in that hous
e and pretend to be married when she wasn’t. The whole idea was laughable. She might not have much in this world, but she had her self-respect, and regardless of how much she loved Mr. Edwards, she would not sacrifice it for anything, including him.

  Yes, she did love him. She sighed as she adjusted her position on the seat. She didn’t know him well—she supposed it would take years before she’d be able to claim that—but what she did know, she loved. His secrets, she despised. How could the same man have so many fine qualities and yet so many faults?

  She tried to forget the feel of his arms around her, his lips on hers, the broadness of his chest. He had cast a spell on her as surely as if he’d been a sorcerer. She would have followed him anywhere, held under his power—and yet he broke that spell with his lies. How could he have done such a horrible thing?

  She could probably mull this over for the rest of her life and never arrive at any satisfactory conclusions, so she decided it was best not to try. He’d created a sorry mess with his deceptions, and he would have to live with them. In the meantime, she had a whole new future to create for herself—that’s what she should be thinking about now, not his kiss, not his whispers.

  She wished she’d thought to bring along one of the schoolbooks from Addie’s library—the one that talked about Missouri. That would have been useful reading on the train. Then again, going into the schoolroom might have disturbed Addie, and that would have ruined her quiet departure. It was just as well that she hadn’t thought of it, but she did wish she knew anything about the place where she was going.

  She finally remembered the letter in her bag and pulled it out. At first, she supposed it was from one of her friends, but then she noticed it was from a law firm. Utterly confused, she opened it and read it, her eyes growing wider with each sentence.

  Miss Middleton,

  It is our sad duty to inform you of the death of your uncle, Thomas Middleton. He was pleased to receive your recent letter, but his failing health prevented him from answering. His final act before passing was to bequeath his entire estate to you as his only living relative.

  Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss this matter and so we can transfer the funds and the properties to you. The total amount of your inheritance is ten thousand dollars.

  “What?” Hope whispered. Her hands shook as she studied the letter again. How was this possible—an uncle she had never met had left her his entire fortune? Surely this was some sort of joke being played at her expense. The timing was too coincidental, the amount too great. But yet, here this letter was, on an official letterhead, with an address in New York City. It would be a simple matter to write them and ask for more details. Ten thousand dollars? She read the figure again. If this was real, if this was not some game, she would be able to live quite well for the rest of her life and never have to work again. It was a heady thought.

  ***

  The train chugged all through the night. Hope watched as the darkness gave away to the fingers of dawn, stretching peach and pink across the sky. Heading west as she was, she couldn’t see the sunrise directly from where she sat, but she could see the effect it was having on the rest of the sky, and it was breathtaking.

  She’d lost count of how many stops the train had made, how many people had gotten off, how many had gotten on. She supposed that was natural, and she had only been a passenger since the night before. By the time she reached Missouri, the trip was sure to be a blur. Once there, she would write to the lawyers and see what they had to say, and then she could begin to make decisions concerning the rest of her life.

  She had just closed her eyes and prepared to doze off again when she heard a voice. “Hope.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced around. The passengers nearest her had either dozed off as well, or were engaged in quiet conversations of their own. No one seemed to be paying her the slightest bit of attention, let alone trying to speak to her. She dismissed it, thinking she’d dreamed it. She was certainly tired enough to be hearing voices.

  ***

  Hope had never been so grateful to see a dining room in her life. The train would be stopping for an hour, giving the passengers a chance to eat and walk around a little bit, and she intended to enjoy every one of those sixty minutes. This restaurant seemed bright and clean, and the menu had several good choices. She settled on the roast beef with potatoes, then glanced around at the other diners while she waited for her food.

  “Hope.”

  The voice. Where was it coming from? She looked around again, but saw no one she knew. Was she losing her mind?

  “Hope.” This time, the voice was more desperate, more frantic, and she recognized it as Mr. Edwards’. But how was that possible? He wasn’t here. He was miles upon miles away.

  The waitress brought Hope’s food, and it smelled delicious. Hope decided to concentrate on her meal and force her thoughts away from this voice and what it might mean. Once she’d rested, the voice would stop, and she’d be back to normal.

  She enjoyed her meal thoroughly, every last bite, and thanked the waitress on her way out. As she walked back to the station, she took the time to notice the reds and oranges of the leaves on the trees, the smells of autumn all around her. There was another scent in the air, something that told her it would soon be snowing. She could picture this little town covered in snow. It would be quite charming.

  “Hope.”

  All her attempts to distract herself hadn’t worked. The voice was louder, more insistent, more in pain, and it reached into her chest and ripped at her heart. If that truly was Mr. Edwards’ voice, why was she hearing it? What did he need?

  The fierce loyalty that lived in her heart, the one that had made her go visit Aunt Wright, tugged at her like a fiery rope, causing her physical pain. She paused and gasped for breath. If he needed her . . . if he was calling out for her . . . shouldn’t she go?

  No. No, she shouldn’t. He’d lied to her. He’d kept the most unimaginable secret in the world from her. She should get back on that train, go to Missouri, and forget that Roscoe Edwards even existed. But even as she thought these perfectly sensible words of logic, she knew she wasn’t listening to herself. Her heart was in charge now, and her heart was telling her to go back—if for no other reason than to see why he called out.

  She cursed herself for her weakness. She was independent by nature—she’d been raised not to need anyone, and yet, this man had somehow made her become so attached to him, she was running back at the first hint that he was in some sort of trouble. She was certain that whatever it was, he could find his way out of it. He was smart, he was wealthy, he had connections—surely he could solve his problems without her.

  And yet, when she reached the train station, she spoke with the ticket master and arranged to go back to New Jersey. The baggage handler fetched her things, and she sat down to wait for the next eastbound train.

  “Hope!”

  Almost without thinking, she replied, “I’m coming!”

  A woman standing nearby gave her a curious look, but then turned away and seemed to forget the whole incident. Hope blushed, but trusted that her veil hid it well enough.

  What if this was a mistake? What if she was going back only to get caught back up in the web of lies and deceit? Even as she had the thought, she knew that if she didn’t go, she would always regret it, and it was a regret she didn’t want to carry for the rest of her life.

  ***

  Hope alighted on the platform at the Newark train station and asked the ticket master to arrange for a buggy out to Hazelbrook. He gave her a curious look. “You’ve gone and then come back again, have you?” he said, shaking his head. “I suppose you’ve heard, but I don’t know how you managed it so fast.”

  “Heard? Heard what?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get that buggy for you.”

  “Sir, what are you talking about?” Hope’s heart had already been too battered. Why wouldn’t he answer her?

  “Some things aren’
t my place to say, miss. I’ll send for the buggy—make yourself comfortable there.”

  Hope waited impatiently on the platform and nearly leaped into the buggy when it finally arrived. Instead of the elderly driver she’d been expecting, this man was a younger, surly fellow who put her bag in the back without saying a word. The drive out to Hazelbrook was equally silent, which did nothing to soothe Hope’s anxiety. What would she say to Mr. Edwards when she saw him? What would he say to her—and why had she kept hearing him call her name?

  The buggy rounded a curve, and as Hope looked up into the sky, she noticed a plume of smoke coming from some distance up ahead. It was thick and black, rising like a column, and fear choked her throat. “What is that?” she asked after a moment, afraid she already knew.

  “Hazelbrook,” said her driver.

  “What?” Hope whirled to face him. “Hazelbrook is on fire, and no one had the decency to tell me?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Some things, you have to see for yourself.”

  “That’s a poor excuse, sir. You were just trying to avoid feeling uncomfortable. You should have told me and given me a moment to prepare myself. Now, will you please urge these horses faster?”

  “They don’t seem to want to go faster, miss.”

  Hope couldn’t take another moment of this. “Then I will convince them!” She snatched up the whip which was leaning against the driver’s leg and snapped it over the horses’ backs. They immediately picked up their pace, and she sat back, satisfied. “I think it’s you who didn’t want to go faster,” she said to the driver. If he thought she could continue at that slow and rambling pace all the way to her destination, he was most certainly wrong.

  As the trees thinned and they drew nearer to Hazelbrook, Hope could see the extent of the damage, and she gasped. The fire was out, but the roof was destroyed, and all the walls were charred. They were now close enough to the smoke that she could feel it in her lungs, and it made her cough. Where was everyone?