Rachel: Bride of New Hampshire (American Mail-Order Brides 9)

by Diane Darcy

  Excited, she went to his desk for the second time that day. She was quite sure he wouldn’t mind. She took a piece of paper, picked up a pen, and sat down to write.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A few days later, Thomas sorted his mail and found a couple of bills, a newspaper advertisement, and another letter from Miss Miller.

  What did she want?

  He was tempted to just throw it away. The last thing he wanted was for Rachel to find another opened letter from the Miller agency.

  It was probably just going to be a long chastisement from Miss Miller, or the lady who’d written him.

  It wasn't his fault his letter had gone astray. But he’d sent a letter of apology, and money as recompense, hadn’t he? What more did he need to do?

  He really didn’t want Rachael finding it and jumping to any conclusions.

  He wished they had a fire going so he could take care of this, posthaste.

  He looked at the trash can beside his desk, and without any more hesitation, he lifted the papers on top, and shoved the letter underneath.

  He didn’t owe them anything else, didn’t want another letter to read and feel guilty over, and he especially didn’t want Rachel upset.

  ~~~

  Rachel waited three days to get some sort of reaction from Thomas.

  He acted like nothing was different.

  She knew the letter had arrived. When the mail had come, she brought it inside herself and set it upon his desk, her letter at the top of the stack. That night, she’d excused herself, claiming Mrs. Gentry needed her. She’d wanted him to open it in private so he’d have time to decide what to do. Hopefully, he’d write his own letter to her. But just in case he came after her, she’d gone home to primp and look her best.

  The next day he once again acted in a normal manner. She’d been filled with anticipation, wondering if her own letter was on its way, or if perhaps he was planning a surprise proposal. Something really special. Especially since the next day was Saturday and she knew it was Franklin’s turn to watch the gun shop.

  Saturday had arrived, and so had the mail. There was nothing in it for her. She’d gone to his house, like she usually did now, even on her Saturdays off, and he’d smiled and flirted and generally acted like a man in love. But he hadn’t said a word, or indicated by any means he’d received the letter.

  She went looking for it, but couldn’t find it, so he’d obviously found it and read it.

  And come to think of it, he hadn’t proposed to her since the day she’d cried in his arms.

  Maybe he didn’t want to respond because maybe he didn’t want her anymore?

  He still stole kisses from her when he could get away with it, but he had not proposed.

  He could have at least said something. He could have at least acknowledged he’d received the letter. Common courtesy would demand that much.

  Her chest was aching with hurt, and she was confused by his callousness. But, she still didn’t give up hope. Perhaps tonight.

  Nothing happened on Saturday night, and on Sunday, she had to face facts.

  He regretted his proposals. He regretted his interest in her. It was obvious to her that after her revelations earlier in the week, she’d made him disgusted.

  He might still be nice, and kind, but he didn’t want to marry her anymore. Sunday, she stayed at the Gentrys' house and told them she was too sick to go to church. She’d remained in her bedroom, giving in to tears when they finally left. Thomas came by, but she told Mrs. Gentry she didn’t feel up to seeing him. By Sunday night, she’d come to a few conclusions.

  On Monday, she made sure Mrs. Polanski went home early, and that Cassie went over to a friend’s house.

  When Thomas arrived home, he smiled when he found her waiting for him. “Where is everyone?”

  “We’re alone.”

  He smiled and opened his arms.

  She backed away. “We need to talk.”

  He lowered his arms. “All right. Is there anything wrong?”

  “I want to know about the letter.”

  He looked trapped, and it was like a spear in her heart. “The one from Miss Miller?”

  “That very one.”

  “What about it?”

  She was not going to cry. She would not cry. “What did you think of it?”

  “I wish it hadn’t arrived. I’m done with all that.”

  She sucked in a breath. Nodded. She hadn’t realized he was capable of this level of cruelty. “All right. That’s fine.”

  She wished he’d just told her, but she supposed he was, right this minute. She’d laid her heart out for him, but that didn’t mean he was obligated to propose anymore.

  Was it the fact her father had committed suicide? Did he think it was a stain upon her family? That she might pass it on to his children? Or did he consider her a loose woman, who’d had a man in her bedroom. Perhaps he wondered if more had occurred than she’d admitted to.

  Frankly, it didn’t matter anymore. She had too much pride to try and explain herself again. If he didn’t want her, she didn’t want him. Coldness settled over her, but that was good. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, not again. She just had to get through the next few minutes, and then later, if she wanted to cry for a week, that was no one’s business but her own.

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose there is any easy way to say this, but I am breaking things off with you. I don’t believe it’s going to work out between us. I plan to go work in the mercantile.”

  “What?”

  Her coldness held. She stared at him, dry-eyed, and wondered at his shock and panic. “I don’t know that I could be more clear, Mr. Buchanan. As we’ve had a close relationship, I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.”

  He slashed a hand through the air. “Well, I don’t believe it’s for the best. I thought we’d come to an understanding earlier this week. I thought everything was settled between us.”

  What did he think? She’d become his mistress? That she was good enough for a fling, but not for marriage? He might not believe she deserved marriage anymore, but she certainly held herself in higher esteem. She was not responsible for the actions of others. Only for her own. “I’m sorry. I can see this distresses you, and I hate to cause any harm to another person, but my decision is final.”

  He paced a few steps back and forth and his brows crushed together as he faced her once more. “What is going on here?”

  “I don’t wish to be with you anymore.” She headed for the door, half expecting him to stop her, but he didn’t. That hurt, too. “Goodbye, Mr. Buchanan.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  She gently closed the door behind her, and walked up the street as her coldness began to melt.

  ~~~

  Thomas paced back and forth a few times, he ran both hands through his hair, and finally, he picked up the vase from the small entry table and threw it with all his might against the front door.

  Why was she doing this to him?

  She was making him crazy, just like his ex-wife used to do.

  What was with women? They never gave a man a chance. “What do you want from me?” He shouted the words as loud as he could.

  His mother came down the stairs. “Did you hear something break? Were you yelling?” She looked to be having one of her lucid days.

  He stared at her, but no words would come. His heart thundered in his chest and he could feel sweat building up on his back. He sucked in air as he turned away and ran his hands through his hair once again.

  “Have you seen Sir Lancelot?”

  Thomas laughed without humor. “No doubt running down the road to his mistress, knowing he is loved.”

  “He’s a knight, you know. A Knight of the Round Table. It’s why he’s so noble.”

  “Yes, mother. That’s wonderful.”

  “Did you propose to Rachel?”

  “About a thousand times.”

  His mother smiled. “That’s wonderful. I
love weddings. If you wait until summer, I could plant some flowers in the garden.”

  “That would be nice, Mother.” Summer, fall, winter, spring. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered anymore. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to assuage the ache there.

  “Did you like the letter she sent?”

  He nodded. “Yes, it was an excellent letter. Sorry about the mess, Mother. I’ll clean it up.”

  “You’re always such a good boy. That’s why Rachel loves you so.”

  He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. “She’s left me. She doesn’t love me, and she’s left me.”

  “She told me all about the letter, of course. It was so romantic. She had a cabinet card made, you know. We went to Fleischman’s Pharmacy. It was a very lovely portrait.”

  He didn’t really care what his mother was saying, but it seemed cruel to refuse to respond when she was having a favorable day. “Who had their picture taken?”

  “Rachel did.”

  “Oh, wonderful. Rachel had her picture taken.”

  “I thought it turned out quite well, but Rachel was worried you might not like it. She said the black-and-white color washed her out. And she did wish for flowers, though, of course there are none to be had this time of year. Did you like it?”

  He continued to pace. “Did I like what, mother?”

  “The photo. The one she sent in the letter.”

  He stopped pacing, and turned to look at his mother. Rachel had asked him about a letter. And one had arrived recently from Miss Miller. It had been stiff, like it had a photo inside.

  He ran to his study and rifled through his garbage can. When he couldn’t find what he wanted, he upended the trash, tossing it onto the floor. He found the letter, tore it open, and pulled out the contents. There was Rachel smiling up at him, the black-and-white color doing nothing to diminish her beauty.

  His mother walked up behind him. “She told me all about it. It’s so romantic. Have you written her back?”

  He quickly scanned contents of the letter, and he couldn’t breathe.

  Dear Mr. Buchanan,

  I am responding to your letter of July, 1890. Most of your specifications, I am very much qualified for. I am of good character and a hard worker. There is one condition, however, I take exception to. You are in want of a homely bride? I’m afraid I don’t meet that particular requirement. But I can offer you my hand, and my heart, in addition to loyalty, children, and a beautiful future together. If you’re still interested after reading about my lack of qualifications regarding my appearance, please write back and let me know what you think.

  Because I think that I love you.

  Rachel West

  He sucked in air. He’d messed up so badly. What must she have been thinking these last few days? She had to have been the one who brought the letter inside. She’d tried to rewrite their original correspondence. Tears filled his eyes and he pressed his lips together tightly.

  What had she said to him earlier? And what had he replied?

  She must think he was no longer interested in her.

  He should write her a letter. He looked at the desk, but immediately realized it was too late for that. She was hurting, and he’d been the cause of it.

  “I’ve got to go, Mother.”

  She smiled at him. “I know, dearest. The cows have gotten lose again, haven’t they?”

  He kissed his mother on the cheek, and then ran for the front door.

  Rachel had to listen to him. He’d ruined everything, but she’d said she loved him. Even if he was the biggest dunce she’d ever seen, she couldn’t turn her feelings off so quickly, could she?

  Somehow he would make this up to her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thomas came by the house, and in a panic, Rachel slipped out the back. She didn’t want to see him, ever again. She just couldn’t.

  After walking through a couple of back yards she ended up on the main street. Her shoes crunched under dirt and gravel as she walked to the mercantile as the sky darkened. When she arrived, it was far busier than expected. She tried to catch the manager’s eye, and when he saw her, he quickly sent a young boy over to speak to her.

  “Good evening, Miss.”

  “Hello. I was hoping to speak with the manager.”

  “I’m supposed to go get Mr. Klein for you. That’s my orders. If you showed up, we was to let him know.”

  “Oh.” That surprised her, but some of the tension drained from her shoulders. Hopefully that meant the job was still available. She needed it. Sudden tears moistened her eyes, but she breathed in as she tried to suppress them. She would not think of Thomas right now.

  “If you’d like to have a seat, nobody is sitting at that table over there, and I could bring you some coffee before I go get Mr. Klein.”

  “No, thank you. But I will have a seat.”

  The table, such as it was, was a couple of chairs next to a barrel. She took a seat and watched the busy goings on closely. This was where she was to work. She hoped she’d catch on fast. She hoped she’d forget all about Thomas as quickly.

  Ten minutes later, Mr. Klein arrived and, making his way through a few customers, approached her with a smile. “Miss West.” He held out his hand, and she stood and took it. He closed both hands over hers and smiled at her warmly. “Do you still need a job?”

  “Yes. I was hoping the offer was still open.”

  He studied her a long moment. “Come with me.”

  She followed him upstairs into what looked to be a storage room. He left the door open and lit a couple of candles, giving the small room a cozy feel. There was a table and chairs set off to one side, and he held one out for her. “Please, have a seat.”

  After they were seated, he looked at her kindly. “I know you were planning to stay with the Buchanans for a while longer. Has something happened?”

  Rachel put a hand to her head and squeezed her temples as she tried to hold back inappropriate tears that unexpectedly sprang to the surface. She drew in a shuddering breath. She didn’t want to tell him anything, but he was being so kind, and was offering her a job, so she felt like she had to give some sort of an explanation. She finally got herself under control. “Mr. Buchanan and I have found we don’t suit. It will just be easier if I work here, rather than for him.”

  Mr. Klein studied her face, but she couldn’t hold his gaze.

  Sympathy was not a good idea right now. It would only make her cry. “So I am very happy to know the job here is still available.”

  Mr. Klein pulled his chair closer to hers and leaned forward in his seat. He took her hand in his once more. “Miss West. I have tried very hard not to interfere in your relationship with Mr. Buchanan. From the outside, it looked as if the courtship was going well. But if you’re truly not interested in him, it would please me very much if you would consider my suit.”

  Her mouth parted.

  “Please,” he said. “I must let you know how very much I admire you. I find myself searching for you anytime there is a local event. I watch on the street to see if you walk by. I go places where I think I might have an opportunity to see you.”

  She didn’t know what to say. “Truly?”

  He moved a bit closer. “I must say, what I feel for you goes beyond mere admiration. I would not speak so soon, but you seem to be in distress and it’s bringing out my protective instincts where you are concerned.” He sank down on one knee.

  Her heart stuttered. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “Miss West, Rachel, from the moment I met you, my feelings for you ignited, and have only grown from there.” Candlelight flickered off his handsome face, darkened his hair. “I’d very much like to have you in my life. Please, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Rachel mouth parted. She’d thought she’d been through just about every emotion she could feel in recent hours, but now here was a new one. The gentleman seemed very kind, very nice. She did have a soft spot for him because
he’d offered her a job when she’d desperately needed the reassurance of security. But she’d never thought of him as an admirer, let alone a husband.

  “Mr. Klein—”

  “No, don’t say anything yet.” He rose to take his seat. “I can see I’ve been hasty in my elation to have you here. Just let me take care of you, let me show you the kind of man I am, and perhaps with this proposal in the back of your mind, you could come to think of me in a different light.”

  Let me take care of you.

  She didn’t love the man, but those words alone touched something within her that yearned for comfort. A marriage, with a man who did love her, and an opportunity to have children and a home, a way to protect her heart.

  And since Thomas didn’t want her.

  “Mr. Klein, the sentiments you’ve expressed to me are surprising, but not unwelcome. In all honesty, I must tell you that I do not love you.”

  I love Thomas. The thought made her chest ache.

  “I do believe if we were to marry, you would grow to love me. I can give you the world, and I want to do so. Please give me this opportunity.”

  She did consider it. If she couldn’t have Thomas, then why not? Did she really want to sit around and watch him marry another woman while she had no one herself?

  She wanted to say yes, but found she couldn’t. “It seems a very unfair situation to you, Mr. Klein.”

  “Don’t you worry about me. I can wait for your heart.”

  “But to marry so suddenly….”

  “Weren’t you prepared to do so when you arrived as a mail-order bride?” He asked the question gently.

  “Yes. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, since. With the job opportunity you’ve offered me, I don’t feel I need to rush so hastily into marriage.”

  He smiled. “I’d rather you were my wife than my employee.”

  She smiled back. “You are a very kind man. I do want the job, but I promise I will think about your proposal as well. Perhaps we could get to know one another better?”