Bay City Belle

by Shirley Kennedy

  “Yes. But you should also keep in mind that you’re my wonderful little sister, and I love you more than words can say. It’s just… I worry about you. You’re withering away here. You need a life of your own, but you’re too afraid ever to break away.”

  “You mean I should be like Allegra? Answer that stupid ad?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve never been alone. The very thought of traveling across the country by myself is terrifying. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Understandable. Far as I know, you’ve never been any place by yourself.”

  “I suppose I haven’t. When I grew up, Nanny never let me out of her sight, rest her soul. Now I’ve got Weldon to drive me around. I couldn’t hitch up a horse if my life depended on it.”

  “Spoiled rotten.”

  “You’re right, I am.”

  “But not entirely. When I look beyond all those ruffles and bows, I see a woman who’s made of sterner stuff.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. When the Yankees were here, and we were starving, you got out and hustled and found us something to eat.”

  Her spirits rose. Nothing meant more to her than her cynical brother’s rare praise. “So you honestly think I could travel clear across the country by myself?”

  “Why not? You know I’ve got money saved up. I’ll give you the return fare, so if you don’t like whoever you finally choose, then you can just come home.”

  She couldn’t think what to answer, had to take a moment to absorb his startling offer. Up to now, Allegra—the Matrimonial News—the ad—had been nothing more than a trivial topic of conversation that provided a laugh or two. But now? “That’s awfully kind of you, Bridge. Honestly, I don’t think I’m up to actually doing it, but I’ll give it some thought.”

  “Which means you won’t. Come on. You won’t be committing yourself if you at least write to the man.”

  Victoria’s words kept echoing in her head: She’s stolen my children away from me. “I love my sister. Nothing she could say or do would ever change that.”

  “Of course.”

  “But then I keep thinking, how can I stay, knowing how she really feels?”

  “Look at it this way. What have you got to lose?”

  “Nothing, I suppose.” Up to that moment, she hadn’t given a thought to actually becoming a mail-order bride. It had seemed such a totally outlandish idea. What would the Georgia Ladies of the Confederacy say? She could only imagine the scorn and ridicule they’d heap upon her head if she did such a thing. On the other hand…

  She hated to admit it, but Allegra was right. You can talk all you want about loyalty to our glorious dead, but that won’t warm my bed at night.

  And it wouldn’t warm hers, either. “I’d need a copy of the Matrimonial News.”

  “You can’t ask Allegra?”

  “Are you joking? Certainly not.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll ask Weldon to get you a copy.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.”

  Bridger grinned. “Of course not.”

  * * * *

  Yancy peered into the near-empty bag of flour and frowned. Time for another trip to town, a prospect he disliked more than ever. Not only had Mrs. Pierce stepped up her relentless crusade to entice him to one of her church dances, the last time he went, another letter from Ronald awaited him. Mother wasn’t well, he wrote yet again. Really? Knowing his brother’s tendency to exaggerate, he didn’t believe it. Last time he saw her she was fine.

  He’d go to town tomorrow. Today he’d go fishing, maybe catch a salmon from the lake or a brook trout from the stream that ran close by. How was the weather? He looked out the window and blinked with surprise. Here came two men, one behind the other, making their way up the wooded slope to the cabin. He recognized the man in the lead—Waneek, a Mohawk Indian who sometimes worked as a guide. Who was that behind him? Someone clumsy and awkward. Couldn’t be an Indian. He went outside and watched as the two figures drew closer. Oh, my God.

  Red faced and winded, the president of the Bank of the Golden Gate came struggling up the hillside behind Waneek. Yancy could hardly believe his eyes, not until the two arrived, and his brother, Ronald, gasping for breath, grabbed his arms and hung on, as if he might collapse at any moment.

  “Yancy! My God, you were hard to find. I hope you’ve got some brandy in there. It’s the least I deserve after all you’ve put me through.”

  During the next few hours, Yancy had to curb his curiosity. After Ronald paid Waneek and sent him on his way, he declared he must lie down and take a nap after his ordeal. He didn’t wake up till evening, declaring himself ravenously hungry. Happy to oblige, Yancy cooked up a meal of salmon, rice, and corn. Not until they sat down to eat at the table in front of the large stone fireplace, did they have a conversation. Ronald looked well rested now. He took a bite of salmon and breathed a sigh of contentment. “I swear, that’s the best salmon I ever had. Must be pretty fresh.”

  “Fresh enough. I caught it while you were taking your nap.” Yancy took a close look at his brother. “I can’t believe you came clear across the continent just to see me.”

  “I did,” Ronald answered between bites of his salmon. “Don’t you know about the transcontinental railroad? These are modern times, Yancy. You’ve got to keep up. There’s a train now. It’s not like I came across the plains in a covered wagon.”

  No, he hadn’t heard about the transcontinental railroad but didn’t care to say so. “Do you know it’s been ten years since we’ve seen each other?”

  “I remember that last time well. It was the day you joined the Union Army, and I took off for California when I should have…” Ronald’s eyebrows raised inquiringly. “Do you hold it against me that I didn’t join? After what you went through, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “Who am I to judge? You did what you had to do.”

  Looking relieved, Ronald spoke again. With a wry smile, he inquired, “Haven’t changed a bit, have I?”

  “You’ve packed on a few pounds.” And that wasn’t the half of it. Ronald was ten years older than he was, but people used to say they looked alike. Ever since they parted all those years ago, Yancy pictured his older brother as the tall, slender young man with the full head of hair he used to know. But he wasn’t the same, not anymore. Besides the big gut and double chin he’d acquired, his hair had thinned. Only a few strands made a fruitless effort to cover a good-sized bald spot. He didn’t look healthy, either. No man of only forty-two years should have been panting and struggling for breath like Ronald did when he came up the hill. “How have you been? Be honest. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

  Ronald met his questions with a burst of jovial laughter. “Fine. Feeling tip-top. You’d put on a little weight too if you lived in San Francisco. Best seafood in the world. I dine at the finest restaurants now, the Cliff House, the Tadich Grill, where all the millionaires go.” He fondly patted the considerable girth of his stomach. “One of these days I’ll get around to cutting back, but meantime I intend to enjoy myself. By the way, I’m married now.”

  Yancy took note of the lack of enthusiasm in his brother’s voice. “That so? Tell me about her.”

  “Well, let’s see now. Her name was Bernice Bolingbrook before I married her. Does the name sound familiar? If it doesn’t, it should. She’s the daughter of Edwin J. Bolingbrook, the railroad tycoon. Meeting her was the luckiest break I ever had. If it hadn’t been for her father, I could never have started my own bank.”

  “That’s all well and good, but what is she like?”

  “Uh…she’s on the flighty side. Pretty, though. Nice figure.”

  Uh-oh. Ronald’s lukewarm description told him a lot. “Any children?”

  His b
rother’s eyes lit with love and pride. “I have a little girl. Name’s Elizabeth, only we call her Beth for short. She’s five now. Pretty as a picture. My son, Richard, is eight and smart as a whip. We play chess together, and he’s beginning to beat me.” He chuckled. “Not that I mind. My children are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Glad to hear that.” Up to now, Yancy had tip-toed around the big question. He’d delayed it long enough. “So tell me, how is Mother doing?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Ronald put down his fork, reached for his glass of brandy, and downed a generous slug. “Mother is dying.”

  He’d suspected what Ronald was going to say, but even so, the words hit like a wallop to his stomach. For a moment, he bent his head, pulling some much-needed air into his lungs. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s been sickly for quite a while. Then recently the doctor found a tumor in her stomach. It’s getting worse, Yancy. She’s in a lot of pain now. The doctor’s giving her large doses of laudanum. She talks about you all the time.” Ronald got an accusatory look in his eye. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

  “I got them. Just didn’t think it could be anything serious.”

  “Her only wish is she wants to see you before she goes. You always were her favorite, even though I was the good one and you were nothing but trouble. Am I asking too much?” Tears welled in Ronald’s eyes, a sight Yancy had never seen before. “We couldn’t have asked for a better mother, so here I am, come clear across the country to tell you so.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, I know.” He rose from his chair, walked to the window, and looked to where the fading rays of the sun cast long shadows over the lake’s still waters. Some deer stood at the water’s edge. Only three, but sometimes there were more. They’d come for their evening drink like they did every night. Yancy never tired of watching them, one of the many pleasures of living in the wilderness. He closed his eyes and saw his mother’s face before him. “I remember all those times she stood up for me against Father, even when I least deserved it. She never gave up on me, though. When I was in the army, she used to send me things she’d made herself. I’ve still got the gloves she knit, and the…”

  Damn, he was as bad as Ronald, getting all choked up.

  He returned to the table and sat. “You’ve got to understand, I wouldn’t stay.”

  “Anything you want. Of course, if you change your mind, you have a job waiting in my bank.”

  “My home is here. I want nothing to do with San Francisco. I’d say my goodbyes to Mother and then return.”

  “Absolutely.” Ronald’s face wreathed in a smile. “You might find our trip more enjoyable than you expect.” He patted his breast pocket. “We’ll be traveling in style, my dear brother. In here I’ve got two tickets on the Union Pacific train to California.”

  Chapter 3

  June 7, 1870

  Dear Mr. Romano,

  I am writing in answer to your advertisement in the Matrimonial News. I am an unattached female, twenty-five years old, of good character. Dark brown hair, with a slender figure. I enjoy fun and social gatherings and am told I have a pleasing disposition. I am 5 feet 6 inches tall and weigh 123 pounds. I play piano and enjoy reading. I am in every way qualified to appreciate and care for a partner in marriage and a good home.

  If you care to respond, please tell me more about yourself and your restaurant.

  Sincerely yours,

  Miss Belle Ainsworth, Savannah, Georgia

  July 13th, 1870

  Dear Miss Ainsworth,

  I am in receipt of your letter of June 7th and can’t tell you how pleased I am that you chose to respond to my advertisement in the Matrimonial News. Of the several replies I received, yours is by far the one that impressed me, so I hasten to tell you more about myself, as requested. I’m originally from Virginia where I graduated from William & Mary College with a degree in law. Being of an adventurous nature, before the Civil War started, I headed west and landed in San Francisco where I soon found a position in the fishing industry. It’s a long story, but by way of hard work and frugal living, I saved enough money to open my own restaurant, Romano’s Fish Grotto, which overlooks San Francisco Bay. Luckily it has been a success and I’ve been prospering ever since.

  These past few years, I’ve been so busy with the restaurant, I’ve neglected that part of my life that yearns for love, companionship, a home, and family. I’m looking for a wife who will give me those things and in return I promise security, protection in a genteel environment, a good life, and my everlasting love. When I saw your letter, I thought, she’s the one. Am I wrong? I hope to hear from you soon.

  Sincerely,

  Robert Romano

  Sitting by Bridger’s bed, Belle waited until he’d read the newly arrived letter from San Francisco. When he finished and handed it back, he emitted a low whistle. “Looks like you’ve found a good one.”

  She was hoping her brother would approve, and it appeared he did. “He sounds sincere, don’t you think? And I get the impression he’s hard working and a man of good character. I even like his name. Robert Romano. Simple but strong. Plain but honest.”

  “He can’t be all bad if he graduated from William & Mary. A lot of my friends did, if you recall.”

  “Not only that, he’s from Virginia, so that makes him a Southerner. I gather he headed west before the war started.”

  Bridger grinned. “That settles it. God forbid you should marry a Yankee.”

  “That would never happen. I hate them all and always will. So you think I should write to Robert Romano again?”

  “That’s your decision, but I certainly wouldn’t stand in your way.”

  * * * *

  Aug. 10, 1870

  Dear Miss Ainsworth,

  After receiving your latest letter, I am emboldened to offer you my hand in marriage. Although I’m not a rich man, as previously mentioned, my restaurant is doing well. My home is not overly large, but situated in a stylish neighborhood, with spacious rooms, a garden both in front and back, and a fine view of the bay. Lest you feel any trepidation, I assure you we will be married the day you arrive or next day at the latest, if you prefer. Enclosed is a small stipend for your travel expenses, plus a ticket for your transportation.

  It is with a heart full of love and anticipation that I await your answer.

  Sincerely,

  Robert Romano

  When Belle finished reading the letter to Bridger, he gave her a long, searching look. “So you’ve got your proposal. Time for a decision, don’t you think?”

  Belle walked to the window of Bridger’s second-floor room, pulled back the lace curtain, and peered at the sun-drenched rose garden below. It was another hot afternoon in Savannah, too hot, really, yet she didn’t mind the heat. She was used to it—felt comfortable with it because this was home. How could she leave? Maybe her life wasn’t perfect, but now that the war was over, she led a life free of worry, secure in the knowledge she could live here until she died. She turned back to Bridger. “I don’t think I can do it.”

  She expected a scornful answer, but instead, Bridger’s eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s a big step, Sis, and maybe too much for you. You haven’t told anyone except me, so if you decide not to go, nobody’s the wiser.” He smiled, as if an afterthought had struck him. “Except that poor sod in San Francisco, but he’ll survive. He can always place another ad in the Matrimonial News.”

  Robert Romano. Thirty-three, six feet tall, 170 pounds, brown eyes. Some other woman would have him now, along with the prosperous restaurant, the house in the stylish neighborhood, with gardens both front and back, and a view of the bay.

  No! I don’t want her to have him. “On second thought, Bridger…”

  “Yes?” The way he was looking at her, like he’d known all along.

  “I’ve change
d my mind. I’m going.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Sure.”

  “What does that ticket say?”

  She pulled the ticket from the envelope and examined it closely. “How exciting. I hadn’t noticed but this ticket is for the transcontinental railroad. I’ll be traveling on the Union Pacific train to California.”

  Chapter 4

  Omaha, Nebraska

  The hackney let Belle off directly in front of the Union Pacific train depot. It wasn’t much to look at, just a large, barnlike wooden building with a cupola roof and two pairs of train tracks running past the back side. Clutching her handbag and small valise, she watched as the hackney driver unloaded her trunk, and a porter piled it atop a cart full of luggage. She entered the building and stood in line at the ticket window. When her turn came, she presented her ticket to the clerk, who examined it, stamped it with a flourish, and gave her a boarding pass. “The train from Chicago is on time today, miss. We leave at 10:45.”

  Belle thanked him. Breathing a huge sigh of relief, she seated herself on one of the long wooden benches in the waiting room. Almost halfway there already! So far, everything had gone even better than she’d hoped for, partly thanks to—she laughed to herself—of all people, Allegra Barnes.

  True to her word, Allegra had left for San Francisco shortly after her shocking announcement. According to her letters, her “respectable gentleman” had turned out to be even richer, more handsome, more wonderful than she’d expected. Blissfully happy, treated like a queen, she now lived a life of ease and luxury in her absolutely gorgeous home in the beautiful city of San Francisco. Knowing Allegra, Belle didn’t doubt she was exaggerating, but her exuberant letters so impressed the Georgia Ladies of the Confederacy that when Belle announced she, too, intended to become a mail-order bride, some of the ladies wished her well. Not everyone supported her decision, but she didn’t receive the derision and horrified disapproval she’d expected.

  Shocked at first, Victoria begged her not to go countless times. Finally, seeing her sister’s firm resolve, she gave her reluctant approval, never guessing her overheard words of complaint had played a large part in Belle’s decision. Saying her final goodbyes to Tom, Ellen, and Amy was more painful than she even thought it would be. “Of course I’ll be seeing you again,” she told them. But would she? A trip clear across the country seemed like going to the ends of the earth from which there would be no return.