Love Finds You in Golden, New Mexico

by Lena Nelson Dooley

  Just seemed like he talked more about God the older he got. Might as well humor him and agree. Jeremiah didn’t want to discuss his friend’s beliefs or his own lack thereof. The sooner this mail-order bride fiasco was over and done with, the better. He sure hoped no one would answer the letter. If no replies came, Philip would have a much larger house to rattle around in. But it was his money, and if he wanted to waste it that way, Jeremiah wouldn’t be the one to argue.

  Boston, Massachusetts

  The brass knocker on the front door resounded through the downstairs as Sarah ran a wooden spoon in a figure eight through a pot of beef stew. “For some reason, the potatoes and carrots are sticking to the bottom of the pan. Must not be enough fat in the meat.”

  The warmth of the large stove and the companionship had drawn Maddy to the kitchen. She stood and tried to shake the wrinkles from her skirt. “I can answer the door. You’re busy.”

  “I don’t know why we had to let the other servants go.” Sarah shook her head. “Your dear father is probably turning over in his grave.”

  “We can hire them back after Father’s solicitor works out the details of the will.” Maddy headed toward the door to the hallway. “I really don’t mind answering the door.”

  Wonder who can be calling at this time of day. Usually visitors came in the early afternoon. That way ladies could be dressed and prepared to receive them. She turned the ornate knob, and the heavy wooden door creaked as she opened it. She’d have to ask Frank to oil the hinges again. The cold seemed to dry them out almost as much as the heat of summer.

  A young boy dressed in rags stamped his feet on the porch. She could hardly believe how little protection he had from the frigid air and wondered where his parents were. She glanced toward the street but saw no one else.

  “I got a message for Miz Madeline Mercer,” the boy announced. “Could you tell her to come to the door, ma’am? I ain’t s’posed to give it to anyone else.”

  She held out her hand. “I’m Madeline Mercer.”

  After placing the slightly wrinkled envelope in her palm, he started to leave.

  “Would you like to come in? I believe there’s hot stew and bread in the kitchen.”

  Madeline’s words stopped the boy in his tracks. For a moment hunger pleaded from his eyes, then they hardened. “I’m s’posed to go back immediately and tell the man I give it to you. He’s paying me extra for that.” With those few words, the boy jumped down the steps and ran up the stone walkway to the front gate.

  After thrusting the missive into her pocket, Maddy closed the door and hurried to the kitchen. Just those few minutes had chilled her to the bone. How could that young boy stand being out in such weather? She pulled her chair close to the large stove and held out her hands until the stinging left her fingers.

  “So, Miss Madeline, who was at the door?” Sarah still bustled around finishing the lunch they would share when Frank arrived home.

  “A young boy brought a message to me.”

  “What does it say?”

  Madeline sighed. “I don’t know yet. I was more concerned about the poor child. The rags he wore did nothing to ward off the cold. I asked him to come back to the kitchen. I could tell he was hungry, but he refused. Said he had to get back to the man who sent the letter.” She pulled the envelope from her pocket, broke the seal, and skimmed the letter. “It’s from Horace Johnstone. He says he’ll arrive this evening at seven to dine with me.”

  Both women’s gasps filled the room.

  “When did you invite him, child? I must’ve missed it when you told me to prepare the meal.”

  “I didn’t invite him.” Her harsh tone grated in her own ears.

  Indignation brewed like a storm in her chest. Invite him, indeed! Never would she ever have invited that man for a meal. What was he thinking just announcing his impending arrival this way?

  The presumption of the man galled her. How dare he? Didn’t he know a real gentleman waited for an invitation? She’d always considered him uncouth, and this was one more example of his lack of proper training.

  “Then send him a message that you aren’t receiving guests tonight.” Sarah’s bosom heaved, and her fists rested on her hips.

  “He was Father’s business partner, though I never understood why Father made him one. I will not be as ill-mannered as he is. Perhaps he wants to talk about the business. Maybe I should ask Mr. Sanderson to come too.”

  Sarah went back to stirring the stew. This time the spoon flew around inside the pot. “He could just be offering his condolences.”

  “He did that at the funeral, and that was sufficient.” Even the thought of the man in her house gave Maddy the willies, as Frank was wont to say. “I don’t like the man. Something about him doesn’t feel right. I’ll have to be alert.”

  After putting the spoon on its rest, Sarah enveloped her in a hug. “Neither do Frank and me. But surely he wouldn’t do anything wrong in your own house.”

  That evening, Maddy chose her mourning gown that had the highest collar. She wanted as much of herself covered as possible. She also desired to appear drab. She didn’t like the way Horace sometimes leered at her.

  Before her father died, she had understood he was only an employee, but now she wasn’t too sure. Mr. Sanderson, her father’s solicitor, had sent word that he hadn’t finished working on all the papers about her father’s estate. It shouldn’t have taken a month or more, should it? Everything must be in order by now. Perhaps Mr. Johnstone had somehow slowed the process. Is there any way he could do that? She wished she knew.

  She pulled her hair back into a severe bun, using extra pins to make sure no curls broke free. The bombazine dress she’d chosen was really a day dress, not one for entertaining guests in the evening, but that crass man probably wouldn’t know the difference. Actually, she hoped he did. She wanted him to know that she held his insistence on coming to dinner in disdain. She’d thought she’d never have to see the odious man after her father’s funeral.

  A soft knock at her bedroom door brought Maddy out of her troubled musings. “Come in.”

  Sarah wore a dark dress with a black band circling the upper part of one arm. “Do you need any help getting ready?” At the end of the question, her eyes widened. “Whatever are you wearing, child?”

  Maddy gazed at her servant but stood her ground against the censure she felt emanating from her.

  “I mean, even though you’re in mourning, that’s not a proper dress for dinner guests,” Sarah stammered.

  “The man’s manners are atrocious—inviting himself to my house. I want to let him know what I think about it.” Maddy wouldn’t give in.

  “Your dear mother would be appalled if she were still with us.” The wrinkles deepened between Sarah’s graying brows. “She’d never have treated a guest in her home this callously.”

  “I have another reason for choosing this gown.” Maddy fingered the black lace edging the stand-up collar. “I don’t like the way Mr. Johnstone looks at me. It makes my skin crawl.”

  Sarah opened her arms and pulled Maddy close. “And so it should, child.” The comforting pats on her back soon calmed Maddy’s heart.

  After the hug, she stepped back. “Will you do something for me?”

  “Anything.” The smile had returned to Sarah’s kind face.

  “Don’t leave me alone with that man—even for a moment.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know how we’ll handle that. It wouldn’t be right for Frank and me to sit at the table with you and your company.”

  Maddy was so angry she raised her foot to stomp it. However, remembering that Sarah would disapprove of this type of behavior, she lowered the foot and began tapping her toes in a soundless, rapid staccato against the Persian carpet. “I’m tired of following all the rules of etiquette. I really want you at the table with me.” She crossed her arms and ran her hands up and down her sleeves, trying to take away the chilled feeling and willing away the terror striking her heart
.

  “I know, but we mustn’t bring dishonor to your name.” Sarah thought for a moment. “Frank could act as footman and stand inside the room wherever you are.”

  “That would work.” For the first time since hearing the man was coming to dinner, Maddy felt a glimmer of hope. “Do you think Frank’ll mind?”

  “Of course not. He loves you as much as I do.”

  A heavy hand abused the brass doorknocker, sending repeated metallic thuds reverberating through the whole house. She was sure that if Sarah and Frank had been in their quarters on the third floor, they would have heard it even there.

  “He’s here.” Sarah once again patted Maddy’s shoulder. “You’ll be all right, child. Remember the good Lord will be with you. Wait in your room until Frank comes to get you.” She slipped out the door and turned down the hallway toward the back stairs.

  Panic gripped Maddy’s heart. If only this night were over, and she’d never have to see Mr. Johnstone again.

  “Miss Madeline.” A quiet knock accompanied the words.

  The gentle sound of her name on Frank’s tongue brought Maddy out of her dark thoughts. She opened the door and accompanied him down the front stairs, her hand resting inside his crooked elbow.

  Horace Johnstone stood near the closed front door, his black hair slicked back and his leering gaze following her progress. How was she ever going to get through the evening? If she could think of a way to cut it short, she would. Lord, I could use Your help right now.

  She stepped onto the marble tile in the foyer, and her heels clicked as she crossed to stand in front of her unwelcome guest. “Mr. Johnstone.”

  Even though she didn’t want to touch him, she held out her hand. She didn’t have to give him an enthusiastic shake.

  Instead he grasped her fingers and lifted them to place a moist kiss against the back of her hand. “Madeline, you are so enchanting.”

  His glib words slid through the air and danced in chills down her spine. She quickly extricated her fingers and thrust her hand behind her. She wished she could wipe every evidence of the contact against her skirt, but she refrained.

  “Dinner is served.” Frank’s words drew her attention.

  “Thank you.” She nodded toward her servant and led the way into the formal dining room.

  Maddy smiled for the first time since the doorbell rang. Sarah had set two places on the polished rosewood table that could comfortably seat twenty people. One at each end. She hurried to her place, but Mr. Johnstone reached it first, pulling out the chair for her. She settled onto the cushioned seat her dear mother had embroidered.

  “Thank you.”

  After sliding her chair in, the imperious man surveyed the room. “This will never do. We won’t be able to carry on a conversation sitting so far apart. Have your servant move my place closer.” He sounded as if he were used to having his commands obeyed.

  Frank started to comply, but Maddy gave her head an imperceptible shake. “Actually, Mrs. Sneed has worked so hard on this meal, I don’t want to give her anything extra to do.” She forced herself to smile up at Mr. Johnstone.

  With a fleeting grin, Frank straightened and stood still as a statue against the wall beside the doorway.

  Oblivious, Mr. Johnstone stalked to the other end of the table. “That’s all right. I’ll move the dishes myself.” His gruff words didn’t bode well for the rest of the evening.

  He grabbed the silverware and napkin and stacked them on the charger plate in a haphazard manner. He topped the stack with the cup and saucer, then brought the water glass in his other hand. When he arrived at the chair to Maddy’s right, he set everything down, scattering them in no apparent pattern. The man evidently didn’t know the proper way to arrange the items in a place setting. She gritted her teeth to keep from giving a very unladylike growl.

  Since they’d had short notice, Sarah and Maddy had planned a very simple menu. Sarah brought in a large soup tureen on its matching platter. Frank hurried to help her set it on the table, then went to stand at attention beside the door. When Sarah turned to retrieve the individual bowls, Mr. Johnstone dipped into the soup with his own spoon, dripping the liquid onto the table linen, then slurping the hot liquid when his spoon reached his mouth.

  Maddy sighed. This is going to be a long, dreadful meal.

  Maddy led the way into the parlor when she really wanted to march to the front door and bid her guest a swift good-bye. She chose a side chair, instead of the couch, not wishing to leave him any opportunity to sit beside her. “Would you like me to have Sarah bring tea or coffee?”

  He frowned before he sat across from her on the sofa. “Didn’t your father keep anything stronger in the house?”

  When Maddy didn’t answer him, he finally mumbled, “Coffee.”

  She rang the bell on the table beside her.

  Frank left his post beside the doorway. “Yes, Miss.”

  After glancing up at him, she almost cried from the sympathy she read in his eyes. “Have Sarah bring tea for me and coffee for Mr. Johnstone.” She hoped Frank would quickly be back at his post.

  She clasped her hands in her lap and finally looked to her guest.

  “Madeline, as I told you at the funeral, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She didn’t discern any sincerity in the man, and it grated on her that he assumed he could call her by her given name. She hadn’t given him that permission. “Thank you again, Mr. Johnstone.”

  He cleared his throat. “I know it’s hard for a woman alone in the world.”

  Sarah swept through the doorway, carrying a silver tray. She set it on the coffee table between them. “Would you like for me to pour, Miss Madeline?”

  “No, I can take care of it.”

  Maddy filled a dainty china cup with the darker pungent liquid before handing the saucer to her guest. Then she poured her tea, adding sugar and a little milk.

  Before she finished stirring her own beverage, Mr. Johnstone had already gulped down the steaming coffee, and his empty cup clattered against the fragile dish. Maddy winced. Her mother’s treasured china was in danger with this man around.

  “I usually drink a large mug of coffee.” He leaned back with his arms along the back of the red velvet sofa. “That little teacup is like drinking from a thimble.” He laughed at his own joke.

  She was surprised he even knew what a thimble was. “Would you like more?” She lifted the silver coffee server.

  He shook his head. “Actually, Madeline, I’ve come to talk to you.”

  The doorway was on the other side of the sofa. Thankfully, Frank continued to stand sentinel. She saw his eyes widen for an instant at that statement, as did hers.

  “I’m sure we don’t have anything else to discuss.” She had tired of trying to think of topics of pleasant conversation during the meal.

  “Oh, I think we do.” He sat forward and leaned his hands on his knees.

  She felt uncomfortable with him moving even that short distance closer to her. “And what might that be?”

  “I’ve come to tell you that we are going to be married.”

  She couldn’t contain the horrified gasp that escaped. “Married?” Frank started toward the man, but she stopped him with a shake of her head. “Whatever gave you such a ridiculous notion?”

  Mr. Johnstone winced when she said ridiculous, but she didn’t care.

  “That was your father’s plan all along.” He bit out the words in rapid succession.

  Maddy stood up, her hands balled at her side. “That’s absurd. He wouldn’t have decided anything so momentous about my future without discussing it with me first.”

  He rose to his feet, his bulk towering over her. “Now just get down off your high horse, missy. You don’t understand what a precarious situation you are in.” He took a step to go around the table, but she shifted her position to keep it between them.

  “You are not making any sense, Mr. Johnstone.”

  “Horace.” He glared at her. “You must ca
ll your bridegroom by his first name.”

  “You are not my bridegroom, and you never will be!” Her shrill words cut through the suddenly stifling air. Her chest tightened, and tears seeped into her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  Mr. Johnstone—she could never call him Horace—held up his hands. “Now calm down. I need to explain things to you. Have a seat.” He dropped back onto the sofa.

  “What is there to explain? Nothing will change my mind.” Her clipped words didn’t seem to affect the man.

  “I’ve been in touch with Sanderson—”

  “Father’s solicitor?” She perched on the front of the chair where she’d been sitting.

  He nodded. “Your father made several poor decisions, and the business was in trouble when he died. You, my dear, are almost penniless.”

  Icy cords wrapped instantly around her heart. With all the strength she could muster, she willed her body not to respond to his words.

  “I’ve saved most of the money I made, so I promised your dear father that if anything happened to him—” he paused, apparently for effect, before continuing—“I would marry you and take care of you in his stead.”

  Black dots appeared before her eyes, but Maddy fought against them. She would not give him the satisfaction of fainting. It would give him more reason to need to take care of her. She took a deep breath. “I’ll take up a trade or become a governess before I would ever marry you.” She raised her chin to a haughty angle and stood. Her belief that what he had said was a lie kept tears from trailing down her cheeks. “Frank, please see Mr. Johnstone out.”

  She turned to go, but Johnstone’s words stopped her from leaving the room.

  “I will give you two weeks to get used to the idea. Then we will wed.”

  Not in a million years.

  Chapter Four

  Shocked, Maddy returned to the chair and dropped as gracefully as she could with Mr. Johnstone’s words hanging in the air between them like an adder ready to strike. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out, shivers coiling up and down her spine. Frank looked as if he were ready to explode. She’d better give an answer before her servant crossed the line and assaulted her guest.