Mail Order Bride: JUMBO Mail Order Bride 20 Book Box Set

by Hope Sinclair

  He nodded vaguely. “Their grandfather was my mentor at the bank. He taught me everything I know about how to be as successful as I am. The least I could do was rescue his granddaughters from a life in an orphanage. I can’t imagine what that would be like.”

  Ester was quiet. A small part of her was stung by Jason’s indictment of the only life she had ever known—but hadn’t she grown up lonely and misplaced after all? So she just kept smiling, looking ahead at the empty dirt road. Finally, she asked a question that seemed too important to have been left unanswered for so long. “What are their names?”

  “The ten year old is Abigail, and her six year old sister is Grace,” Jason said. “They’re very close and Abigail doesn’t like me so much...so you can probably guess how things are going.”

  Ester laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can get it sorted out in no time.”

  He chuckled too. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” There was a pause. “You know, I was surprised when they told me they found someone all the way out in New York. It’s a pretty long way from there to here.”

  Ester shrugged. “I wanted a change,” she said simply, hoping he wouldn’t have any more questions.

  He gave her a sidelong glance, but appeared to get the hint.

  “Is that so? Then this place is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” Even though she knew he’d meant it as a lighthearted joke, Jason’s words made Ester’s smile widen. She could hardly wait to see her new home for the first time.

  The two of them quickly got lost in their own preoccupations, and the rest of the drive passed in relative silence. She spent a moment wondering what Jason’s thoughts were, then quickly decided that not only didn’t it matter, her curiosity was inappropriate. If her new employer had any doubts or regrets concerning her, he didn’t show them, and that was good enough for her.

  Jason pulled the carriage up to a tidy gate in a stone wall and passed the reins briefly to Ester so he could get down and open it. He smiled again when he returned. “Sorry it’s been dull so far,” he said sheepishly. “I guess I’m not much of a conversationalist.”

  “Oh, it’s perfectly all right,” Ester replied. “The scenery is lovely here.”

  Jason cast an eye toward the overcast sky. “That reminds me, if you don’t have a good coat, you’ll want one. The rain can be…constant.” He urged the team forward down the meticulously packed driveway. “I’ll make sure there’s an extra allowance in your first week’s pay for necessities. I noticed you didn’t bring much.”

  Ester blushed, realizing for the first time how she must look to a banker who lived in a house with a drive and a gate. No wonder he’d been able to identify her so quickly; she looked exactly like the struggling new servant she was. But at least she was a nanny, someone whose job was to love and nurture. As long as she got to do that, she couldn’t bring herself to mind anything else.

  They rounded a final corner, and the house loomed above them so suddenly that Ester almost gasped. There was a young man waiting in the front courtyard, and as Jason drove alongside him, he grasped the bridle of the nearest horse, holding its head steady. Jason thanked him and dismounted from his seat, then came around to help Ester and retrieve her bag. Then he led her up the steps—much newer and more reliable than the ones at the boardinghouse—and opened the front door.

  “Here we are.” He set her suitcase down on the floor. “Home sweet home.”

  Ester’s gaze traveled down the wide hallway in which they were standing, its dark wood floor dotted with beautiful rugs. On either side, large doors opened into bright, spacious, finely decorated rooms. It was unlike any home she had ever seen. “It’s amazing,” she breathed, unable to hide her awe.

  “Thank you,” he said modestly. “Just a benefit of knowing my way around finance. Let me show you your room, and then we’ll go over your responsibilities before the girls get home from school.” Ester followed him up the curving staircase to a room that was easily three times the size of her former bedroom. Her single piece of luggage looked insignificant where he had placed it just inside the threshold. Jason pointed down the hallway. “Abigail and Grace’s rooms are just down there. They do have their own, but I think they prefer to stay together sometimes.” He shrugged. “Come downstairs with me for a minute. I promise it won’t take long. It would probably be good for you to have a chance to rest before you meet the girls.”

  “I can manage,” Ester told him cheerfully. But she really did appreciate his thoughtfulness—and she wondered with some amusement why he always spoke of the children in a tone of voice that suggested they were more than a little trouble. Perhaps she had her work cut out for her.

  In the downstairs living room, Jason pulled out a sheet of paper with a checklist on it and ran his eyes down the list.

  “Let’s see...obviously, your principle duty is to care for Mr. Woodhart’s daughters, including preparation of meals, clothing, help with schoolwork, etc. When the girls are away at school or on playdates, you’ll be expected to help with general housekeeping, as well as cooking.” He glanced up at her. “There is a housekeeper, Mrs Stevenson, but she has been poorly recently, so it would be helpful if you could keep things in order in the meantime.” Frowning he looked at her, then cleared his throat, “Keep whatever schedule works best for you and the children. As long as they’re happy, I’ll be happy. Does that sound good?”

  “It sounds perfect,” Ester replied with a bemused smile. He clearly had no real interest in raising his foster daughters, which struck Ester as a shame; if he was going to have them in his house, he ought to have some interaction with them. She resolved to try and build that relationship at least a little bit, now that she was an active part of this odd little family. It would be good for the girls, and she suspected it would make Jason’s life a lot easier too.

  THREE

  Meeting The Girls

  Armed with the knowledge that the sisters typically arrived home from school together around three o’clock in the afternoon, Ester went upstairs to take a short nap. She wanted to make the best possible first impression on her young charges. But as soon as she lay down on the bed, she found herself unable to sleep.

  As she waited for the telltale sound of children coming through the door downstairs, she tried to tell herself not to be nervous, that two small girls were nothing she couldn’t handle. At the orphanage, there had sometimes been more than a dozen unruly young ones, and as the oldest, Ester was often in charge. If she could handle that, then this nanny business should be simple.

  The rays of afternoon sun were just beginning to poke their long fingers through her western window when she finally heard the door open, followed by the singsong babble of small voices. Ester took a deep breath, gathered herself together, and made for the stairs. Below, Jason greeted the girls.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he told them. Ester heard him put on a smile. “I think you’ll be very excited.”

  “I bet not!” one of them retorted. Ester felt sure that this was Abigail. “You never have anything good for us.”

  “Yeah!” Grace chimed in, clearly just echoing her older sister.

  Ester decided to step in before the conversation could go anywhere else. She swiftly descended the steps and came to stand just behind Jason. “Hello,” she said, as sweetly as she knew how. “My name is Ester Hughes. I’m your new nanny.”

  The first thing she noticed about Abigail and Grace Hartwood was that they were beautiful, perfectly put together little girls, each with a lustrous mane of loose curling hair that would require careful brushing each morning. They looked enough alike that were it not for the apparent age difference, they might have been twins. Abigail’s sea-blue eyes had just sparked with defiance, but now they were wide, full of uncertain surprise.

  It was Grace who spoke first. “I’m Grace,” she said shyly. “You can call me Gracie if you want. You’re pretty.” Seemingly shocked at how much she’d had the courage to say, she closed her mouth
and blushed, hiding a little bit behind her sister.

  “Thank you very much, Gracie. What a sweet thing to say.” Ester smiled and clasped her hands in front of her.

  Abigail wasn’t so willing to receive this stranger, no matter how pretty her sister thought she was. She looked at Ester with a guarded, appraising stare for a few long moments. Ester saw her sharp little mind working behind her blue eyes.

  Abigail glanced at Grace. Then she said, “My name is Abigail. You can’t call me Abbie.” She paused. “Even if you want to.” Another pause. “But you are pretty.”

  Ester laughed, and Gracie joined her. “See, Abigail?” Gracie said. “I told you it wouldn’t be bad. I like her.”

  “You like everyone,” Abigail answered, but she smiled too.

  “Okay, great!” Jason interjected enthusiastically. “I knew you two would love her.”

  In a flash, Abigail reverted. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Well, regardless, Ester is here to stay, so you’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.” He shot Ester a look that she couldn’t quite decipher: mingled relief and exasperation. Then he excused himself, saying something about needing to catch up on work, and disappeared into one of the side rooms.

  Abigail looked disdainfully after him. “That’s his study,” she said. “He’s in there all the time when he’s not at the bank. He used to leave the door open so he could watch us, but now that you’re here, we’ll probably never see him again.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Ester said lightly. “He just has a lot of work.” In truth, she didn’t know, and by the way Abigail looked at her, she sensed that there was more to the story. But she was also sensible enough to know when not to ask too many questions, so she veered away from Jason Denver. “How was school today?”

  Grace perked up instantly. “Can I show you what I wrote on my slate?” she asked, nearly bursting with excitement as she ran to retrieve it from the hall table. “I’m learning my ABC’s,” she said proudly, displaying her lines of letters. Ester remembered those lessons well.

  “That looks wonderful!” she exclaimed. “You must be a brilliant student.”

  Grace beamed. “Abigail helps me,” she said happily. “But sometimes she can’t because she has to learn arithmetic and stuff.”

  Abigail shrugged. “It’s easy,” she said, with her own brand of dispassionate modesty. “Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”

  “I can’t wait.” Ester meant it. She recognized a lot of her own young and miserable loneliness in Abigail’s manner, and it pulled at her heart. She wanted to reach beyond her tough exterior and offer the love she was sure her grandfather must have supplied. For now, however, Ester had to be patient. No child as sharp and articulate as Abigail was going to trust a brand new nanny. So she held her hand out to Gracie instead, who took it immediately.

  “Would you like an afternoon snack? Maybe we could make it part of our new routine together.”

  “Yes!” Gracie fairly shouted. She shot off toward the kitchen, insistently tugging Ester behind her. Ester felt a burst of pride. Whatever happened from here on out, at least she knew she had precious little Grace on her side.

  The first day passed without incident. Jason did not appear again until he joined them at the dinner table, where Abigail’s frosty demeanor prompted silence from all but Grace and occasionally Ester. Afterward, Jason melted away, and the three girls cleaned up the kitchen together. As soon as Jason had departed, Abigail cheered up again. Perhaps spurred on by her little sister’s relentless enthusiasm, she began to talk about her own school lessons, and to express her desire to learn faster than the pace at which she was being taught. Ester made a mental note to scour the nearby town for things that Abigail could read, as she listened: newspapers, secondhand books, anything that might hold her interest. She was almost bewildered by the strength of the child’s fierce intelligence, but she was determined to do everything she could to help it grow.

  At Grace’s bedtime, the little girl would not settled down prior to extracting a promise that no significant discussion would take place without her. Only then did she allow Ester to tuck her in and say good night. “Sometimes Abigail tells reads me a story,” Grace said, “but we don’t have any new ones. Do you have any stories?”

  Ester brushed the little girl’s hair from her forehead. “I don’t, but I can find one for tomorrow. Will that be okay?”

  Grace nodded and smiled. “Good night, Miss Ester. I’m glad you came today.”

  Ester smiled back. “So am I.” She blew out the lamp on the night table and gently left the room, pulling the door mostly shut behind her.

  Abigail was waiting in her own room next door. She gazed at Ester very solemnly. “Sometimes I lie to Grace. Just a little.”

  “Oh?” Ester sat down beside her on the mattress. “Why do you do that?”

  “Because she’s too little. Sometimes she doesn’t understand stuff, and then she asks a million questions and it’s annoying.” Abigail sighed. “Like how I told her we wouldn’t talk about anything important while she was sleeping. That was a lie.” Abigail paused. “Did you know that Mr. Jason’s in trouble?”

  FOUR

  A Secret Reveled

  “What kind of trouble?” Ester asked warily. She had not heard anything more than pleasantries, work chatter, and casual conversation from Jason Denver, and the other staff she had met during the course of the day.

  Abigail examined the fingernails of her right hand. “Right after Gracie and I moved here, there was a man who came to ask questions about Granddaddy’s house and things. They don’t know I heard, but I did.”

  “What did they say?” It felt improper to be probing a ten-year-old child for information, but Ester was intensely curious, and besides, it was clear that Abigail was bent on telling what she knew.

  “He told Mr. Jason that he had twelve months to prove that we were being taken care of—Gracie and me. And if he didn’t, we’d be taken away for good with all of Granddaddy’s things.” She looked up into Ester’s eyes. “That’s when he started reading the paper. And now you’re here.”

  “Hmm.” It made sense. Jason Denver, a young bachelor with no child-rearing experience, was in no place to suddenly hand-raise two young girls, and he knew it better than anyone. But why hadn’t he told her? Ester was puzzled. She knew she would never have refused the offer of employment, no matter what the circumstances. Was there more to it?

  Abigail sat quietly on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, watching Ester think. She had nothing more to say, except, “He wants you to make his problem go away.”

  Ester glanced at her, momentarily surprised, and swiftly recovered. “Let’s not worry about it,” she said soothingly. “It’s not a problem yet. He’s made sure that you and Grace will be perfectly happy, hasn’t he?” She smoothed the girl’s chocolate curls.

  Abigail gave her a tiny smile. “I guess so.”

  Despite her smiling nonchalance, Ester was needled by the story of the mysterious man coming to the house. She felt sure it had been the representative of the late grandfather’s estate; the orphanage had dealt with many such men in the wake of suddenly acquiring a new child. In New York, the sisters at St. Mary’s hadn’t been under quite so much pressure, but there were far more needy young ones in the city than there were out here in the barren West. And she knew that none of those who passed through the orphanage doors were worth even a tenth of the Hartwood estate.

  She tried to put it out of her mind as she washed and undressed for bed, focusing instead on the many successes of the day. It was no use.

  Her sparse conversations with Jason ran through her head on repeat. Never once had he mentioned conditions with the estate, nor the possibility of having to surrender the girls. The latter was already an impossibility in Ester’s mind; in a single half day, she had formed a bond of at least fierce protectiveness with the sisters. She couldn’t let them be sent to a fate likely very close to the one that
had driven her to their doorstep in the first place. The last thing she did before finally drifting off to sleep that night was resolve to speak to Jason first thing in the morning. Ester knew it was possible that Abigail was lying, telling her a falsehood so that she would side against Jason in the perpetual battle that apparently endured within the home. But Abigail was smart enough to understand that she didn’t have to lie for Ester’s support.

  Ester didn’t know what the implications were. All she knew was that she didn’t like them—and Jason Denver had some serious explaining to do.

  The next morning, she roused the girls for school, brushed their hair, made up their lunches, and saw them out the door with a bright smile and words of encouragement for a good day. They waved and set off down the drive, hand in hand, Gracie skipping happily. Ester watched until they disappeared around the bend, and then she went back into the house to look for Jason. He had not been at breakfast, but she noticed that the light was on beneath his study door, and so she went there and knocked. Some shuffling of papers sounded on the other side, followed by footsteps and the opening of the door. Jason seemed slightly surprised to see her there.

  “Good morning, Ester. What time is it? Are the girls up for school?”

  She gave him a funny, amused look. “It’s after eight. They’ve left already.”

  “Oh.” He laughed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I should have known that.” He cleared his throat. “How was your first day? Any problems?”

  “No, none at all,” she said.

  He nodded. “I have to say, I’m impressed that you’ve gotten through to Abigail already.” He sighed. “As you can see, we’re not on the best of terms.”

  “Right.” Ester took a deep breath and looked her employer straight in the eye. “Mr. Denver, last night Abigail told me that you were in trouble. What does that mean?” She had decided not to provide the specifics of Abigail’s story, because it had occurred to her that Jason’s account might be different.