by Diane Darcy
Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Excerpt of Once in a Blue Moon: by Diane Darcy
Excerpt of Violet: Bride of North Dakota by Heather Horrocks
Excerpt of Darby: Bride of Oregon by Bella Bowen
ALSO BY DIANE DARCY
RACHEL
Bride of New Hampshire
American Mail-Order Brides
By Diane Darcy
www.DianeDarcy.com
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Rachel ©2015 by Diane Darcy
~All rights reserved.
Cover Art design by EDHGraphics
Dedication
To Kristina Owings, with much love, admiration, and thanks.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the usual suspects: awesome friends, writers, and mentors Heather Horrocks and Kristin Holt, both fantastic ladies who continue to inspire me. And special thanks to Melody Chase and Darcy Fairbanks for reading this story and offering suggestions. Even though someone made me rewrite the ending. ;)
Book Description
Rachel: BRIDE OF NEW HAMPSHIRE
By DIANE DARCY
Rachel: Bride of New Hampshire is 9th in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides series. Each are stand-alone books that may be read in any order.
Thomas Buchanan feels deceived when the homely mail-order bride he asked for is a beauty—a fact she patently denies. Rachel West is reluctant to marry in the first place, so a reprieve is good news. Can they work their way back from a bad beginning to find they belong together after all?
Chapter One
Lawrence, Massachusetts
September, 1890
“Just read the letter.”
Rachel West petted her very ugly cat, with its different lengths of gray hair and bald patches. Sir Lancelot purred like crazy, and his long, spotted tongue hung out again. He repelled most people, but she loved him. “I’m not interested in reading the letter, or in being a wife, so I don’t see the point.” She tried to make her tone firm, but even she heard the wobble in her voice. Or was that desperation?
They’d had this conversation before, but Violet, best friend and pesterer, thought she knew best.
Violet shook the letter. “Just read it. The situation is perfect for you. The man has a daughter and he wants her to learn comportment, music, and decorum. With your background, if you could just think of this as a job, it would be perfect for you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes and tried to get comfortable in the only chair in the room.
“Come now, why not? All of the other girls are excited. I’m excited.”
Rachel snorted. The young man Violet was writing to apparently hung the sun, moon, and stars.
“Where is your sense of adventure?”
“Trying to manipulate me is not going to work.”
Violet tossed the letter onto her bunk and walked to the dirty window in the small room that housed four girls, crossed her arms, then stared out. “You’re in dire straits. We all are. I don’t think it’s a good idea to bury your head in the sand. Did you hear that Darby McClintock has accepted a groom from Oregon?”
“Darby has?” That surprised her. Darby was rather headstrong and had a temper. Rachel hadn’t thought she’d sign on as a bride.
“What are you to do after every one of us leaves? Where will you go when the rent money runs out?”
Rachel set the cat down, and it ran a few paces then stopped by the closed door and curled its raggedy tail around itself and licked its leg. “That’s not fair. It’s not as if I’m lazing about doing nothing. You know I’m trying to find a job.”
“What about your mother? You know she’d want this for you.”
That was true, and there was no denying it. Her mother wanted her to marry, and mentioned it in almost every letter she sent.
“You’ve got to face reality. My ticket to North Dakota could arrive any day. I can’t just leave you. Not until I know you’ll be all right. Come now, would a husband truly be so bad?”
“Dreadful, as far as I’ve observed.” She tried to sound calm, in control, but was afraid she’d struck the wrong note into desperation. “Anyway, what’s wrong with this particular gentleman? Why wasn’t he chosen by one of the other girls?”
“Nothing is wrong with him.” Violet glanced away again, sounding uncomfortable.
Rachel’s eyes widened and she smiled as her natural good humor reasserted itself. “Is he older than the hills? Is he looking for a young bride to be there for him in his old age? Does he need help walking? Bathing? Making his way to the outhouse? Will he leave me all his money?”
Violet giggled. “It’s nothing like that.” She still stared out the window and the sounds of a horse and carriage, children playing, and a baker shouting about his wares carried through the thin building. “You never said how the job search is going? Any prospects?”
So there was something the matter with the man. “It’s fine.”
“I want specifics. And I’ll be checking up on them before I go. If you don’t have a job, I’m not leaving you here on your own.”
“You have to go. You want to go.”
“I do. This is a new chance. For all of us. It would be such a shame if you ruined it for me.”
“Guilt won’t work either, but nice try.” Rachel glanced at the four small beds, empty now, as the twins had already headed west, mail-order brides of a pair of wealthy miners in Utah Territory. “Why did this have to happen? This place is horrid, but I was actually happy here. Happier than I’ve been in a long while.”
Violet finally turned to look at her, pretty blue eyes pleading. “Look, I know you don’t trust men. First your father leaves the family. Then you lost a job you loved when your employer’s son tried to ruin you. And, now, with the factory burning down in such suspicious circumstances you probably trust them even less. But don’t you see this is a chance for us? Men treat their wives differently.”
Rachel raised a brow and tilted her head toward the door. Silence might reign at the moment, but the landlord was known to terrorize his wife when the mood struck, and everyone knew it.
“Many men do treat their wives well. At least come with me to talk to Miss Miller. She’s a good woman, and I’m truly impressed with the way she’s trying to help us all find decent matches.”
“I’m sure a job will come available any day.”
“If I were as sure, I’d leave you to it. But I’m not, so I won’t. Just read the letter.” She picked it up off her bed and shook it again. “Miss Miller was kind enough to let me take this, but I have to return it soon as he’s in the Grooms’ Gazette and some other girl might be interested in him.
But I think this man might be the perfect match for you.” She swallowed. “I just have a good feeling about him.”
R
achel eyed her suspiciously. “What was that tone in your voice? Just spit it out. What is wrong with the gentleman in question?”
Violet wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It’s nothing. He just has an unusual requirement.”
Rachel glared. “He is eighty years old, isn’t he? And a wife beater!”
“He’s a young man. His name is Thomas Buchanan.”
“First, I’m going to state the obvious. Regardless of all the ladies who have utilized Miss Miller’s services to find husbands, this letter has been passed over repeatedly. So he is legitimately the bottom of the barrel, correct?”
Violet’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “His circumstances in life are actually quite desirable.”
Violet now had Rachel’s full attention. “What’s the matter with him? Tell me the truth. Does he beat women? Is he lame? Disfigured? Incredibly short? Ugly as the day is long?”
Violet flinched.
“Seriously? He stated in the letter that he’s ugly?”
“He’s not ugly. He simply has an unusual requirement that put the other ladies off. But you have no one to blame but yourself if you get the husband no one wanted. You’ve been very stubborn about refusing to consider this route. And now he may be the only option left open to you.”
“Is it my fault no one is hiring?” She waved a hand. “Anyway, I don’t want to leave my mother.”
“Your mother lives in New York City. You live here in Lawrence, Massachusetts. You’ve already left your mother.”
“I know, but I heard the other ladies talking. Some are going as far as Washington, or California. I’d never see my mother again.”
“Well then, you’re in luck. This particular gentleman lives in New Hampshire.”
“New Hampshire?” By train she could probably arrive in New York in half a day’s journey or so. “Fine. Spit it out. What is his unusual requirement?”
“You’d consider it?”
“What? Marriage? I don’t know. But you’ve captured my interest. I want to know what the gentleman had to say.”
Violet hurried to the bunk to retrieve the letter. She fingered it for a moment.
Rachel laughed at her friend’s worried expression. “Admit it, this was the last letter available, and you yourself would not consider marrying this person.”
Violet looked agonized. “I just want you to promise to consider him.”
“Just give it to me or read it out loud.”
“It’s just that the…the situation is…” Violet took a breath and hurriedly rushed on. “I mean, yes, there is a reason the other girls passed on this letter. But if you could just consider…”
“Consider what?”
“Before I tell you I want you to consider that we could make this work. I’ll help you. We all will.”
“What! Just spit it out.”
“He… he wants an ugly wife.”
Rachel’s eyes widened and her mouth parted.
The two girls looked at each other across the cramped and rented room. In her entire life, Rachel never worried about her appearance. She couldn’t walk outside without men commenting, calling out, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Beautiful, bewitching, stunning—all words used to describe her on one occasion or another. She’d been denied jobs based on her appearance.
She threw her head back and whooped. She clutched her middle as laughter shook her insides. Violet’s expression of pique made her giggle all the harder. Finally she calmed down and wiped her eyes.
“All right.” She chuckled once more. “You’ve got my attention. I’ll read the letter.”
~~~
A few days later, Rachel’s last chance at a job fell through.
Fear dodged her all the way back to the apartment building, where she slowly walked up the stairs. She opened their bedroom door to find Violet waiting for her. “Well?”
Rachel burst into tears.
Violet immediately put her arms around her. As soon as Rachel stopped crying, she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “Maybe I can go and stay with my mother for a short while.”
“I thought your mother wasn’t in a position to take you in?”
Rachel shrugged. “Perhaps her employer wouldn’t mind if it was just for a few days, while I look for a job in New York.”
“But you don’t have train fare, do you?” Violet reminded gently.
Rachel shook her head, and fresh tears welled in her eyes.
Violet didn’t say anything, but Rachel could practically feel the other woman holding back. She knew Violet was thinking about Mr. Thomas Buchanan again. Rachel couldn’t help but think about the letter again, as well.
The letter Violet already returned to Miss Miller.
Was it still there? Or had some other unfortunate girl taken him up on his offer? “All right. Let’s go see about Mr. Thomas Buchanan. Perhaps his letter is still there, or maybe another man has written and is desperately in need of a short-sighted, overly-optimistic wife.”
Violet smiled and hurried to get her cloak. “This will all work out, I just know it.”
Together, they took the short train ride to Beckham and walked to Miss Miller’s house.
Miss Miller was thrilled to see them. “Your friends have mentioned you, Miss West. They speak very highly of you.”
“It’s very nice to meet you.” She hoped the other girls hadn’t revealed she was against this whole process.
They were ushered into a beautifully decorated sitting room. “Please, have a seat.” Miss Miller rang for tea and biscuits, and a maid quickly brought them in. Rachel helped herself and took the tea Miss Miller poured. Gratitude for the food welled within her and she quickly squashed the idea of slipping a few biscuits into her pocket. Though it was tempting.
Miss Miller took a sip of tea. “What do you think, my dear? Are you ready to find a husband?”
The other woman looked so enthusiastic that Rachel wanted to lie, but it just wasn't in her. If Miss Miller knew all the facts, perhaps she would come up with a better suggestion. “I don’t actually want to get married. In my experience, men generally tend to let ladies down.”
Sympathy shone on Miss Miller’s face. “I understand you were searching for a job?”
So the other girls had mentioned her alternate plans. Rachel nodded emphatically. “Yes. Do you know of anything available?”
Miss Miller shook her head “I’m sorry, the jobs I’ve heard about are quickly secured. Do you think there is any way you could simply look at marriage as secure employment? Men and women do need each other, they are two parts of a whole, and in a marriage that is working, it can be a beautiful experience.”
“I’ve enjoyed feeling self-sufficient. I had hoped never to be dependent upon a man again.”
“Because you’re worried about being let down?”
“Yes.”
“It is a common fear. You’re not the first lady who has expressed such doubt. Especially when contemplating leaving home, family, and friends for the opportunity of marriage with a stranger. Are you sure you want to go through with this? Have you other options?”
“I’ve resigned myself.”
Violet elbowed her.
“What I mean is that, yes, I do want to marry.” Being a mail-order bride might be a good thing. If you didn’t love the man you married, at least he could never really disappoint you.
Miss Miller looked at Violet, then back to Rachel. “I’ve never been in a position where I have so few men to choose from. With all of the mail-order brides coming from the Brown factory it has quite wiped me out. I have a couple of other letters, one from Colorado, and another from Wyoming, both gentlemen who require women of means. Would you care to look at those?”
“No, thank you. Beyond the fact that I have no money, it would be too far away from my mother. My sister is living in California, so I would not want my mother to feel so completely deserted. I read the letter sent by a Mr. Thomas Buchanan. I do like the fact that he resides in New Hampshire. If I settl
e there, I might be able to see my mother upon occasion as she lives in New York City. Is he still available? Or perhaps there are some other letters I could look at?”
Miss Miller shook her head. “I’m sorry, I weed out the inappropriate ones, and since I had such an influx of women looking for husbands recently, Mr. Buchanan is the only one still available who doesn’t require a rich bride. Poor man. He actually looks to be an excellent prospect, but if you read his letter you know that some women might take offense to his requirement. Would you like to read it again?”
“So it’s still here?”
“I’m afraid so. I do think, perhaps the gentleman could have rethought the way he’d written his letter. He has a business, one daughter, and his mother lives with them. Read the letter again and see if you don’t glean some sense of a sympathetic connection.”
Rachel picked up the letter Miss Miller slid across the table. She opened it again, and it wasn’t nearly as funny when she was actually contemplating marrying the man.
My dear future bride,
I am looking for a wife. I have a daughter of twelve who needs a mother to teach her comportment, and proper etiquette, and hopefully some music. My mother lives with us and is having difficulties with her memory. I am looking for someone who is kind, patient, and homely. I realize my last requirement is unusual, but is one I must insist upon. I have no desire to see myself saddled with a beautiful bride.
I am thirty years old. I own a business with a partner and it is very successful. I am quite able to adequately support a wife. I stand at six feet, have brown hair, and I like order and stability. Having laid out my requirements, I am hopeful you shall do the same. I anxiously await your reply,
Thomas Buchanan
Rachel finished reading the letter and let out a breath. She folded it and tapped it against her other hand. “It was because he wanted a homely bride that everyone else passed him up, correct?”
