Alice_Bride of Rhode Island

by Kristy McCaffrey

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alice stepped from the buggy beneath a hazy sky at the entrance to the cemetery in Newport, her bonnet shielding her face from the brisk wind. She resettled the skirt of the sea-blue walking dress then turned to the driver. “Please wait.”

  She knew the location of Gavin Harrington’s gravesite, having visited it many times with her mother that first year after he passed. But when her mother had died, she’d stopped coming. Daniel Endicott hadn’t buried Hazel Harrington Endicott here—something Alice had argued to no avail. She’d only been fifteen years old. Afterwards, she’d begun to feel despair and had railed against her own father for leaving her. She had ceased to pay her respects at that point.

  She meant to change that today.

  Bundling herself into her wool coat and hand muff, she walked to the end of the road and turned right, passing rows of headstones. The somber atmosphere cloaked Alice and the finality of losing both her parents seized her. How she wished they still lived.

  She spied an older woman in the distance near the Harrington grave. Before Alice could advance farther, the woman climbed into a nearby carriage, and it promptly departed.

  Alice rushed to a cemetery worker. “Pardon me, would you happen to know who that woman is?”

  The man nodded. “That would be Mrs. Harrington.”

  Alice gasped. Her father’s mother. She couldn’t ignore the coincidence. “Thank you so much.”

  She returned to her driver and inquired how to find Edith Harrington’s home. The driver didn’t know, but he asked around and, more than an hour later, pulled up to a modest home on a quiet side street.

  Alice climbed the steps and rang the bell. A butler appeared.

  “Is Mrs. Harrington in residence?”

  “May I say who is calling?”

  “Mrs. Alice Martel. I’m an old friend.”

  He opened the door and let Alice into the foyer, then departed.

  The butler returned. “Mrs. Harrington isn’t acquainted with you.”

  “I know, but it’s important that I speak with her. I’m...her granddaughter.”

  He left her once again and Alice stood alone. Finally, the man reappeared and ushered her into a drawing room. Alice removed her bonnet but remained standing. The furnishings were simple and well-worn. It was another several long minutes before Edith Harrington appeared.

  The elderly woman stared at Alice, her green eyes shining from a face well covered in wrinkles.

  “Hello, grandmother. I hope you’ll forgive my intrusion.”

  “I thought the butler was lying, but you look too much like your mother for it to be otherwise.” Mrs. Harrington entered and sat on the sofa. The butler appeared with a tray and set it on the table before them. He poured dark fluid into two tea cups, then departed. “Please sit. It’s Alice, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Alice removed her coat—the butler hadn’t offered to take it—and set it on the settee beside her, then sat down.

  “Do you like tea?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Edith folded her aging hands into her lap. “Why is your last name Martel? Are you married?”

  Edith’s forthright manner took Alice aback. “Yes, newly so.”

  “Then I suppose congratulations are in order,” her grandmother added, her gravelly voice not steeped in any sentimentality. “Did your stepfather, Daniel Endicott, arrange it?”

  Lying to her grandmother seemed out of the question. “No, ma’am. I was a mail-order bride.”

  “A what?” Derision coated her words.

  “I was in Massachusetts but returned to Rhode Island with the promise of a marriage to a respectable fisherman in Tiverton.”

  Her grandmother’s composure faltered. “I suppose Gavin would have appreciated that.”

  Alice was sorry that she’d upset the woman but took the crack in her armor as an opening. “I know it’s not my place to ask, but why did you stay away from our family all these years?”

  Edith hesitated and looked across the room. Just when Alice feared she’d overstepped her bounds, the woman spoke. “I’m not a perfect woman. Sometimes, in anger, one sets a course, and then time takes one even further upon it.”

  “Were you mad at my father?”

  Edith set her cup and saucer onto the table and smoothed her gown. “We disagreed about his passion for the sea. You see, I wanted him to be a minister. I raised Gavin alone, as my husband had died from illness when Gavin was only a boy. My father was a pastor, and it was an honorable duty for him, just as it would’ve been for Gavin.” She sighed. “But oh, how my boy loved the sea. I can see that now. Back then, I was desperate that he do my bidding, but he ran off and lived the life of a vagabond, jumping from ship to ship.”

  “I’m told he was a revered captain during the War, that he blockaded the South on the ocean.”

  “Yes,” Edith answered softly. “I’d heard that too.”.

  “Did you ever come to visit us?”

  “A few times, after Gavin and Hazel married, after you were born. But the distance between my son and me was still great. He had little to do with me. And now, I sit here looking at you, and I hardly know you.” Her voice broke. “Why did you come here?”

  “I saw you at Papa’s gravesite earlier. One of the caretakers told me who you were.” Alice reached into the left sleeve of her gown and pulled the paper she’d found the previous night. “I recently found this letter that was written by my mother before she died.”

  Alice unfolded it and handed it to Edith.

  Edith’s eyes swelled with tears when she finally looked up. “I’m so sorry for Hazel’s passing. I had no idea. I’m touched that she would even think of me during such a difficult time.”

  “I still have the pearls you gave me so long ago.”

  “You do?” Edith’s gaze widened in surprise.

  “Yes. They mean a great deal to me.”

  A warm and genuine smile lit her grandmother’s features. “I’m very glad to hear that. I’m not sure how I can possibly help you, but I’d be honored to have you back in my life.”

  “Thank you. I wonder if you’d like to meet my husband?”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Living in Daniel Endicott’s home was the last place James desired to be, but he wouldn’t leave Alice. Their belongings had been transferred from the hotel and they were both now settled, albeit in separate rooms.

  William Evans and Lillie Jenkins were gone, having returned to their respective homes. It had surprised James to find Lillie here, engaging with a man like Daniel. She and Stephen knew of the history between the Martels and Endicott. Her supposed relationship with the man was a betrayal on many levels. James had thought to work with her on her holdings—especially the oil factories located in Tiverton—but if she merged with Endicott, or, God forbid, married him, James could no longer help her.

  Of course, he had his own problems with Endicott.

  Word was sent that Daniel wouldn’t be dining with them for supper, so James anticipated having Alice to himself. He met her in the dining room.

  “Are we to be alone?” she asked, her cobalt gown accentuating the bright blue of her eyes.

  “It would seem so.” He pulled her chair and she sat.

  He took a seat at the head of the table, Daniel’s seat. The housemaid greeted them and placed a tureen on the table. James lifted the lid and smiled as the mouth-watering smell of the soup filled his nostrils.

  “I do love Rhode Island chowder,” he remarked.

  Alice leaned forward to view the contents and inhaled. “As do I. You simply can’t find it anywhere else.”

  He ladled the clear broth filled with quahogs, potatoes, onions, and bacon into Alice’s bowl, then did the same for his own. An amiable silence ensued as they reveled in the dish.

  When satiated at last, James returned his focus to Alice. “Where did you go this afternoon?”

  “To visit my fa
ther’s gravesite.”

  “I would’ve accompanied you, if you’d just asked.”

  She set her spoon down. “That’s very kind of you to offer. Perhaps another time.”

  The housemaid removed the first course, then served up breaded veal cutlets and mashed turnips. Alice took a sip of water from a large goblet and pushed at her food with a fork.

  “Did you have your fill of the chowder?” he asked.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” He reached for the smaller of his goblets.

  “Are you in love with Lillie Jenkins?”

  He choked on the red wine he had begun to swallow. “What?”

  “You seemed very upset that she was here.”

  “I am dismayed.” He set his goblet down. “But not for that reason. I’m disappointed that she would mar Stephen’s name by joining forces with a man like your stepfather.”

  She pinned him with blue eyes to which he was fast becoming helpless.

  Seeking to convince her, he added, “Alice, I can assure you there is no other woman in my life, save you.”

  With a slight nod she resumed picking at her dinner. He supposed his relationship with Lillie might seem so casual as to appear romantic, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. A sliver of hope pierced him—Alice’s undisguised jealousy hinted at her weakness for him.

  “I also visited with my grandmother,” Alice said, her countenance still guarded. “I haven’t seen her in many years.”

  “Was it a happy reunion?”

  A smile tugged at Alice’s mouth. “Yes. She’d like to meet you.”

  He took the request, small that it may be, as progress in his relationship with his wife. “I look forward to it.” Wanting to continue their amiable conversation, he said, “It must’ve been exciting for you to attend boarding school. Where did you go?”

  He was glad to see that Alice had finally begun to consume her dinner.

  “I attended the Troy Female Seminary in Troy, New York.”

  “So you’ve been on your own for a while.” Having finished his meal, he relaxed in his chair, indulging his desire to gaze upon his wife.

  “I suppose that’s true.” With a fork, she placed a piece of veal into her mouth, chewed, then sipped her water again.

  “What was it like?”

  “All girls. Very strict. But the location along the Hudson River was beautiful. The campus sat atop Mount Ida and overlooked the city of Troy. The curriculum was quite varied—mathematics, modern languages, Latin, history and philosophy. But the purpose of studying was to encourage us to become teachers so that we might all be able to work outside the home.”

  “Then why did you go to Massachusetts to labor in a textile factory?”

  Alice switched to the goblet of wine at the head of her plate and took a generous drink. “I’m afraid I haven’t always had great faith in myself. The textile work, while exhausting, seemed a fitting punishment.”

  James frowned. “For what?”

  “For running away.”

  Stunned laughter escaped James’ mouth. “You should hardly feel ashamed of that. Leaving took great courage in my book. Do you still want to become a teacher?”

  “Perhaps.” She hesitated. “But if I were to pursue a course of action that truly called to me, it would no doubt be related to the sea. To quote my favorite poet Longfellow: My soul is full of longing for the secrets of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.”

  “You really have caught the bug, haven’t you?” He couldn’t help but stare at her. She was a dream he hadn’t known he’d wanted. What would a lifetime with her hold?

  “I suppose I inherited it from my father. Speaking with my grandmother today made me realize that.” Abruptly, she stood. “I should probably turn in.”

  Caught off-guard by the sudden turn in the evening, he came to his feet. “You’re not going to leave me alone in this big house, are you?”

  “You’re a big boy, James.”

  “At least indulge me a game of chess and a nightcap. Theo told me you’re quite good.”

  He didn’t miss the conflict in her countenance, but she silently agreed. As they moved across the foyer to the parlor, he placed a hand on her back, but she moved away, breaking the contact.

  She settled at a table adorned with chess pieces while James poured a dash of port for each of them. In the soft lamplight, Alice’s loveliness squeezed his chest. How had it come to this? He was married to a woman who watched him with distrust in her eyes. He knew he could set it right and confess his true intentions—at least, the gist of his intentions in the beginning—but a tendril of fear wrapped like an icy finger around his spine.

  Alice would likely tell him to go to hell, and then he would lose her.

  But if he bided his time, he could have it all—Menhaden Fishing and Alice. And she never need be the wiser. He ignored the twinge of his conscience that seemed to be pressing more and more to be heard.

  He brought the drink to her and watched as her slender fingers took it from him. He clinked his glass to hers in a toast. “To the marriage of an Endicott and a Martel. My folks are probably turning in their grave as we speak.”

  Alice tilted her head to gaze at him. She took a sip of the sweet wine then stood, remaining close to him. Her demeanor was almost rebellious as he looked into her eyes.

  “Would your mother approve of me?” she asked softly.

  His body reacted to her nearness, as it always did. “I rather think she would. She’d like your gumption.”

  “I never thought of myself as having that.”

  “Then you’ve underestimated yourself, Alice. I’m learning not to do that.”

  She shook her head. “I wish I could trust you.”

  James brought a finger to her face, pushed a stray curl away from her cheek, and tucked it behind her ear, noting a barely perceptible shudder resonating from her. “We have time to work on this.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  James sensed the wall she erected between them.

  “Did you know that my birthday is less than a fortnight away?” she asked, her tone fractious.

  He paused before lying. “No, I didn’t.”

  “I’ll be turning twenty-one on Christmas Eve.”

  His mouth went dry. “Then we should celebrate.”

  “I imagine that some of us will.”

  Collecting himself, he sought to smooth over the direction of the conversation. “I’m glad you told me. It would be highly remiss of me to have forgotten such an important day for you.”

  She made a neutral sound, then said, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll come into an inheritance.”

  “Is that what Daniel told you?”

  She narrowed her gaze, her blue eyes flashing like the beam from a lighthouse. “Isn’t that what you think, James?”

  “What exactly are you saying?” he asked, seeking to redirect the glare away from him.

  “That your goal in marrying me was to gain something and then divorce me.”

  “I have no intention of ending our marriage.” At least that part was true. “I want you, Alice. If we consummate it, I’ll honor the union. I make that promise to you.”

  In an effort to end the discussion, he brought his hands to her cheeks and captured her mouth with his. She wasn’t warm and welcoming, but he held his ground, slanting his lips over hers, seeking to incite the hunger he knew lay dormant inside her.

  When she yielded, ever so slightly by leaning into him, he wrapped her into his arms as if he held heaven on earth. She pulsed in his blood like the sea that lived in a sailor’s veins, a mad desire that could only be appeased one way.

  “Alice.” He released labored breaths. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  She stilled but he continued to kiss her.

  “Don’t think,” he whispered. “Just feel.”

>   She pulled back, putting far too much distance between them. “No. I can’t be swept away by your roguish charm.”

  He ran his thumb across her lips. “I’ll be gentle with you.”

  “I won’t deny that I’m curious about you, and about this. But I need time to decide, to be certain.”

  James rested his forehead to hers. “I won’t let you go, Alice.”

  She brought her gaze to his. “We’ll see about that.”

  As she turned to go, James grasped her hand and tugged her back to him, standing behind her, and nibbled the soft skin along her neck. “If you change your mind, you can come to me at any time.”

  A slight shiver rippled through her, and, if James was being honest, he was afflicted with a similar shudder.

  She lingered, then left without another word or glance back to him.

  For several long moments, he remained rooted to where he stood, seeking to quiet the storm that touching his wife had unleashed.

  Alice obviously knew of her inheritance. Would she let him take ownership of Menhaden Fishing? Or would she hand it back to Daniel Endicott?

  He had never planned to remain married, but now it was clear he needed to hold onto her until Christmas Eve.

  Damn. He wanted her for longer than that. Forever, maybe.

  He shook his head.

  How had it come to this?

  Chapter Twenty

  At breakfast, Alice sat in silence, her stepfather at the head of the table on her right, and James across from her. If three people had the least to say to one another, it was them. Silverware clinked against china as the men ate steak and eggs, while Alice sipped coffee and nibbled on a sweetbread.

  “How is Menhaden Fishing, financially?” she asked, looking at Daniel.

  James coughed, as if choking on his food, and Daniel glanced up sharply from reading the newspaper.

  “Why would that concern you?” Daniel asked.

  “I’ve heard talk,” she hedged, “that it’s an important asset you own.” She looked at her husband. “Do you know anything about the company? It’s located in Tiverton.”