Daring to Start Again: An Inspirational Historical Romance Book

by Grace Clemens

  A broad youth was smiling toothily at her elbow. He was introduced to her by his mother who was a friend of Aunt Jane’s. Apparently, this Rupert Somers had been away working in New York and had just returned to Hartford for the holidays.

  Macie knew that the Somers family was in the same straits as Aunt Jane; any fortune that had come down through the family tree was fast waning. Only an old name kept them from being blacklisted from these sorts of events. Rupert Somers was not the eligible match Aunt Jane was hoping for. But as Aunt Jane had married into her “old name,” Macie wondered what she hoped to accomplish. Macie’s mother had been every bit as middle class as Jane had been back before she married.

  The dancing continued for another hour. Macie went from one partner to the next; never dancing with the same man twice, lest people think there was more between them than there actually was. She was well aware that young men danced with her in order to show off their prowess on the dance floor in the hopes that more eligible girls might notice. Macie was pretty enough to instill jealousy without being a real threat.

  It had been hard to learn that lesson. More than once, she’d thought some bachelor or another had set his cap for her, only to find that she’d been little more than a pawn in a plot to catch a better fish. At first, she’d been disappointed and embarrassed.

  She was a willing girl who wanted to make people happy. And nothing would make Aunt Jane happier than marriage to a wealthy man. However, it had become apparent over the years that she was unlikely to make such a match. Though she was sorry for Aunt Jane’s sake, she was secretly relieved. This life was fine, but it wasn’t a good fit for her. How she would ever tell her aunt, though, Macie couldn’t imagine.

  After suffering through a waltz with Mr. Somers, she was introduced to tall, dashing Alexander Van Dusen who said perfectly respectable things all the while eying her too familiarly. A headache was blooming as Macie’s brain scrambled to think of a way to extricate herself from this scallywag.

  “Excuse me,” a delicate voice interrupted. “I must borrow my cousin.”

  Macie looked over to see her cousin Lorna at her side. The petite brunette smiled winningly at Mr. Van Dusen before tugging Macie away.

  “Thank you!” Macie hissed in Lorna’s ear. “How did you know I needed rescuing?”

  Lorna shot a dark look back over her shoulder. “I had to dance a waltz with him earlier. He kept looking at me as though he was a boa constrictor ready to swallow me whole.”

  Macie giggled and followed her cousin through the crowd and out onto the veranda where she took as deep a breath as her corset would allow. The sounds and smells of the ball were diminished here. Macie closed her eyes and leaned against the railing, enjoying the frosty air and lack of pretense.

  Next to her, Lorna echoed Macie’s relief with a deep sigh of her own.

  Chapter 4

  Next to her, Lorna sighed deeply as well. “I was beginning to think I’d lose my mind if I had to stay in there another moment. Why do all of the eligible bachelors have nothing interesting to say? Do they really think that bragging about their money will convince a girl to marry them?”

  “I hate to say it, but yes,” Macie observed. “These balls are little more than a chance for unmarried people to meet while under the supervision of their mothers.”

  “Mama would be disappointed to hear it, but I couldn’t care less how much money a fellow has. I’m not even sure I care how handsome he is or what his family line is like. Do you think I’m crazy to want to marry someone I actually like? Someone who can carry on a conversation about the world? Never mind being in love, I’d settle for having an amicable marriage.” Lorna wrapped her arms around herself and watched the dancers through the windows, frowning.

  “Before I came to Hartford, I never knew that marriage could be such a strange business,” Macie confessed.

  Lorna looked up and her expression relaxed into a rueful grin. “Is it so very different on the frontier?”

  The taller girl’s head tipped as she considered this. “Yes and no. I mean to say, it isn’t always possible to wait for an ideal candidate for matrimony. There are far more men than women and most boys grab the first girl who will say yes. All of these other things don’t matter so much.”

  “Hmmm…” Lorna mused, her eyes twinkling. “A long family lineage is nowhere near as important as hard work and strong hands out in the wilderness. I suppose I could settle for a man of no fortune if he was tall and could wrestle a bear.” The petite brunette waggled her eyebrows.

  Macie caught her cousin’s teasing. She laughed, “Not all cowboys are strong and handsome, Lorna. We had a cowhand who swore that it wasn’t healthy to take more than two baths a year. He was missing half his teeth and two fingers on his left hand. He was bow-legged and bald.”

  Lorna’s mouth puckered as she considered the picture Macie was painting. “Still, he sounds like a better catch than Marmaduke Mason.”

  “Is he the short one with the thin mustache?” Macie asked delicately.

  “That’s the one. He also spits a little whenever he talks. And his hands are always damp. I could feel it through my gloves when we danced!” Lorna shuddered.

  The two enjoyed a giggle together.

  “We should go back in,” Macie suggested dutifully. “Your mother will want to know where we are.”

  But rather than moving towards the doors, her cousin announced, “Oh, I don’t care about Mama anymore. She’s had eight years to try and find me a match. No one has taken the bait and I’m about to take matters into my own hands.”

  Macie’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean? Lorna, you aren’t going to do something desperate, are you?”

  Her cousin looked around as though expecting to find an eavesdropper out there on the veranda. She took a step closer and whispered, “I’m going west to get married.”

  It was the last thing Macie could have imagined her cousin saying. Lorna was fun-loving and lighthearted, but she was also practical. She might dream up a way to dress as boys and sneak into the stables for a gallop through the town square, but she would never actually do it.

  “Who are you marrying?” was all Macie could think to ask.

  “I don’t know yet,” Lorna admitted. “But I’m going to do it. I’ve made up my mind.”

  Macie was feeling the need for secrecy too, now. She peered through the window, making sure that no one was heading their way.

  “Tell me all,” she begged.

  “Have you ever heard of mail-order brides?” Lorna’s voice was louder now, her excitement overcoming her caution.

  The tall blonde shook her head, intrigued.

  “You said it yourself; there are more men in the west than women and they often have trouble finding a bride. These men write advertisements and put them in magazines and newspapers back east. I’ve started reading them.”

  Macie’s eyes were huge. “What do the advertisements say?”

  Lorna shrugged, “They’re often similar. ‘Rancher, 32, seeks willing wife to come to California.’ That sort of thing.”

  “You can’t truly be considering answering one of those,” Macie scoffed.

  “Why ever not?”

  Macie spluttered, “You’d have no idea what sort of man you were marrying! What if he was cruel or drank or had a nasty temper or, or… smelled bad? You’d be far away from everyone you know and under his thumb. I can’t think of a worse idea!”

  Lorna looked away, sulkily. “I know it sounds odd. I used to think it was too big a risk, too. However, marrying one of these men is a risk.” She gestured at the black-suited gentlemen whirling around the ballroom. “Any of them might be hiding terrible vices. We’ve heard whispers of respectable men who do all sorts of awful things. Mama tries to keep me from hearing, but everyone talks. If I agreed to marry one of them, I’d enter the marriage knowing very little about my husband. Sure, I’d know who his ancestors were and how much money he makes, but I wouldn’t truly know what sort of a man
he was until it was too late.”

  It was a fair point. Macie herself had come to the realization that she wasn’t interested in the sort of men of whom her aunt would approve. The grinning, shiny options in that ballroom were as different from her father and brother as they could be.

  Besides, marrying one of these men would mean that Macie would be doomed to a lifetime of balls and parties and gossiping about the people around her. She could hardly bear another hour of it, let alone the next sixty years. She’d known good, honest, hard-working fellows back in Texas. Was it possible that those boys were looking for brides?

  “How would you go about choosing a husband?” she wondered.

  Sensing that she was winning her cousin to her side, Lorna perked up. “I figure that I’ll start by reading dozens of ads. Then, if any catch my eye, I’ll send a letter of introduction. From there, I hope to write a few times so that I can get a feel for what sort of man he is.”

  Macie found that she was nodding along and quickly stopped. She was loath to admit it, but Lorna’s plan wasn’t as cockamamie as she’d first thought. It wouldn’t hurt to write letters, would it? If she changed her mind, she could just write and end the correspondence kindly.

  An idea sparked and Macie’s heart took off at a gallop. “Are there many advertisements from Texas?” she asked in a would-be casual tone.

  But Lorna knew her too well. “Why, Macie Sheldon, are you thinking about becoming a mail-order bride?”

  Despite the cold, Macie’s cheeks heated. “Of course not. I just wondered. We really should get back inside before we freeze.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she hurried to the French doors and tugged on the handle. For a moment, she’d stepped too close to a dangerous precipice. Macie reassured herself that the right option was to return to the ball and continue with the path her aunt had set her on. Aunt Jane knew what was best, didn’t she?

  Yet, a dance with Edwin Merritt did nothing to put the tickling notion from her mind. Macie tried to attend to Carl Hayworth’s long description of his latest hunting trip, but her imagination wandered continually. And on the ride home in the darkness of the carriage, she could no longer keep herself from facing the truth: Macie was considering becoming a mail-order bride.

  “I was pleased with the number of partners you had, Macie,” Aunt Jane crowed. “Lorna, you sat out too many dances. I happen to know for a fact that Marmaduke Mason was looking for you.”

  The only response to this was a derisive snort. Macie could picture her aunt’s round face taking on that look she reserved for her remaining unmarried daughter.

  “He comes from a good family,” Aunt Jane began.

  “Mama,” Lorna moaned. “Please, don’t list his good points. They hardly make up for his bad ones. A good family name does not negate constantly sweating hands. It was bad enough with two pairs of gloves between his palm and mine. I can’t imagine his hands on my bare skin!”

  “Lorna!” Aunt Jane admonished, shocked at her daughter’s daring.

  “Oh, Mama, I’m not a little girl any more. I am aware that married men don’t always wear gloves when they touch their wives’ bare hands,” Lorna responded drily.

  Her mother sighed as though she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Macie was glad for the dark as it hid her amused grin. She found her aunt’s attempts to marry Lorna off far funnier than when Aunt Jane’s attentions were focused on Macie herself.

  The rest of the ride was made in near silence, Aunt Jane’s occasional sighing notwithstanding. Because the hour was late, there was no need for anyone to linger for polite conversation downstairs. They all trudged up to their boudoirs where Trudy, their lone lady’s maid, helped them each to undress and prepare for bed in turn.

  In her nightgown and tucked between the covers, Macie abandoned all pretenses and let herself truly consider the idea of being a mail-order bride. There were so many aspects to consider that her brain kept darting from one thought to another.

  What sort of man might she find on the other end of these ads? And what sort of woman was he expecting? How would she know a genuine groom from a snake who wanted to trick her into leaving all her friends and family behind, only to force her into something horrible?

  It seemed ludicrous that Macie might really go west to marry a stranger. And yet, one thought kept drawing her back into the foolhardy scheme: What if she married a man from Elmswood? Oh, he didn’t have to be exactly from Elmswood.

  If she could find a husband in the general vicinity, he would pay for her ticket back to Texas. Surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask for a chance to visit her family’s old homestead? But would a lifetime commitment be worth a free ticket back home?

  A quiet tap sounded on Macie’s door just before it cracked open and Lorna came tiptoeing inside. The two women had been sneaking back and forth across the hall for late-night whispered conversations since the first night Macie had moved to Connecticut. Automatically, Macie slid over and pulled the coverlet back so her cousin could be comfortable as they talked.

  “I brought something to show you,” Lorna whispered as she wriggled into the warmth. “It’s a magazine with mail-order bride ads.”

  Macie turned up the lamp at her bedside and leaned close, her heart pounding excitedly.

  “’A hard-working, attractive, church-going bachelor, age 38, desires to correspond with a Christian woman of similar age, object matrimony,’” Lorna read in a nervous whisper. “He’s from Oklahoma.”

  Macie bit her lower lip. She’d been so bold when she was imagining herself answering these ads. Simply reading them, though, made her stomach quiver nervously. Surely, she’d never get up the courage to actually write one of these men.

  But, as days went by and Lorna brought her more and more ads, all nervousness slipped away. Lorna chose half a dozen likely candidates and sent off letters within the first week. Macie was impressed by her cousin’s daring resolve. She was also glad to learn that Lorna had put her return address as general post. This meant she’d have to walk to the local post office and ask for her mail, but it wouldn’t be delivered to the house where Aunt Jane might see.

  The first of Lorna’s return letters came and she read it with much squealing to Macie in bed late that night. The two young women talked it over at length, trying to read between the lines. The second suitor sent a photograph of himself and Lorna debated his best features at length.

  As the weeks went by, Macie began to doubt she’d ever find someone from the Elmswood part of Texas. Maybe there were enough women there that men weren’t looking to bring in wives from the east. Her memories didn’t reveal any particular female deficit and she began to tentatively consider broadening her horizons.

  And then, one day in February, she came across an ad from a young man in Elmswood itself!

  “Lorna!” she cried, glad that her aunt was out of the house for the morning. “Lorna, look at this!”

  Macie flew across the parlor to where her cousin sat, carefully penning a letter to one of her potential grooms-to-be.

  “What? You made me smear my ink,” Lorna scolded mildly.

  “Look here in the Marriage Courier,” Macie held out the magazine dedicated to helping men find their brides. “Here’s someone in Elmswood looking for a wife! ‘A bachelor, aged 22, wishes to correspond with a young lady with a view of matrimony, ages 18-24. Must be adventurous.’”

  Lorna clutched the newsprint pages, needing to read the words for herself. “Sure enough, the address is the Elmswood, Texas post office. Why do you think he wants an ‘adventurous’ wife?”

  Macie’s stomach clenched, but whether it was with excitement or nerves, she didn’t bother to analyze. Was this the advertisement she’d been hoping for? Could the man on the other end be her husband-to-be?