Oh, Lord, you have been so good to me...
As a child Elizabeth had known God as Creator and Savior. Through grief, she had learned something else. God was also a Father, and even though she hadn’t recognized His presence in her life, she knew now for certain He had always been there.
And You sent a good and honorable man back into my life to show me that I was capable of loving again.
Elizabeth had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but God did, and knowing that, she could face the future without fear. She wasn’t certain how David would respond to such news, given all that had taken place, but she had to tell him.
Beside her, David was walking, munching on a peppermint drop, deep in thought.
I have to tell him. It may make no difference now, but I can’t allow him to leave without letting him know how I truly feel.
They were nearing Monument Square. Elizabeth asked if they might stop for a moment.
“Of course,” he said.
They claimed the bench beneath the shade tree, the very one they had occupied on their first day of working together. Elizabeth’s heart was pounding.
“David, there is something that I need to explain—”
He stopped her at once, lifting his hand. “Elizabeth, you don’t have to—”
“I love you.”
His eyes widened with a look of surprise. “What did you say?”
“I love you.”
“Then why did you—?” His surprised expression settled to a look of gentle understanding. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? Because of what happened before.”
He knew her so well. He always had. “Yes,” she admitted. “I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you as it did to Jeremiah, but David, I don’t want to let fear rule my life anymore. I would rather have five minutes with you, if that is all God has ordained, than to not love you at all.”
Moving closer, David took her hands in his. A look of devotion, of certainty filled his face. “Elizabeth, I would like nothing more than to be able to promise you that I will love you and be with you for the rest of your life, but I can’t. I can only promise you that I will love you for the rest of mine.”
Coupled with God’s promise, that was enough. Tears of joy filled her eyes. “Then you will stay?”
“Of course I will stay. I want to marry you. You know that, don’t you?”
A giggle escaped her throat. She couldn’t help it. She felt so happy. “I figured as much when you kissed me.”
David chuckled, also. “Oh, you did, did you?”
Turning serious, Elizabeth then drew back her hands. She removed the pearl ring from her finger and held it out. “You chose this for me,” she said.
“How did you learn that? Did Jeremiah tell you?”
“No.” She explained what had happened the day she claimed her memorial brooch. “The jeweler said you thought the ring would suit me. You were right. You know me better than anyone else.”
“And you, me.” As he took the ring from her, there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I loved my brother,” he said. “I wanted him to be happy, but I so badly wanted to be the one to put this on your finger.”
“Will you?”
The most handsome smile she had ever seen emerged on his face. It reached all the way to his eyes. “Nothing would make me happier.”
Her hands were trembling, but this time it was not in fear. David slid the ring on her finger, then sealed the moment with a tender kiss. Elizabeth could feel the beating of his heart. It matched the rhythm of her own.
Epilogue
November 1, 1864
“You may kiss your bride.”
When Reverend Perry said those words, David did not hesitate. Lifting Elizabeth’s veil, he planted a kiss on her lips, all to the cheers of their family and friends.
Sam and Julia Ward had returned from Philadelphia in time for the ceremony, and David’s parents, sister and brother-in-law had come from Boston. The staff of the Free American was on hand, as well. When David led his wife down the aisle, he received a fair share of back slapping from his fellow newspapermen.
“You’ll now have new stories to tell,” Peter said.
David couldn’t help but grin. Indeed, he thought. He and Elizabeth had covered a host of events in the preceding months. Many of which had been a test of faith.
After the failed invasion, the rebel army had retreated to Virginia. Elizabeth’s brother had been transferred to a prison camp in southern Maryland, and the city had slowly shifted its focus from defense back to politics. The state convention had reconvened. David returned to Annapolis, and Elizabeth churned out sketches based on his wires. The Unconditionals had succeeded in drafting a new constitution that would immediately emancipate all slaves in Maryland, but the document prohibited all those with less than impeccable loyalty from voting in future elections.
When the complete proposal was brought before the people, it passed by the narrowest of margins. David didn’t know what the future would bring for Maryland and her people with divided loyalties, but at long last, the slaves were finally free. The new constitution had taken effect today.
How fitting that we are beginning our new life together on the very day when the former slaves are beginning theirs.
Elizabeth squeezed his hand, as if she knew what he was thinking. The light in her eyes nearly stole his breath.
“Peter is going to have to issue you a new press card,” David told her.
She let out a laugh. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “He already has.”
“He has?”
“I asked him to bring it over to the house this morning.”
“You did?”
She nodded. “I was eager to see Elizabeth J. Wainwright printed out for myself. Besides, it might come in handy on our honeymoon.”
David blinked, curiously. “You think we might run into a story while visiting art galleries in New York City?”
“You never know.” She smiled, mischievously. “After all, we are partners.”
“Partners, you say?”
“In work and in life.”
David grinned, pulled her close. “That’s my girl.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from FRONTIER ENGAGEMENT by Regina Scott.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing Second Chance Love, the third book in my Civil War series. By 1864 many Maryland secessionists were beginning to reconsider their support for the Confederacy and for slavery. Just as many battle-weary unionists were entertaining ideas of compromise with the South, in hopes of ending the fighting. When I first wrote this story I had simply intended to tell this part of Maryland history. Little did I know, however, as the manuscript entered the review process, I was entering one of the darkest and most discouraging periods of my life.
My family and I experienced a devastating loss. My Christian upbringing told me God had a purpose in the suffering, and that He was still in control. Yet, the more I tried to press through the pain, the more I wanted to keep moving forward, the more I hurt. Prayer seemed pointless. Like Elizabeth, for a time I had to rely on the faith and intercession of others. Eventually, though, I found joy again.
I still don’t have answers, but I do know that God loves me. He proves it time and again, not by giving me what I asked for but by carrying me through the storm. I can say with certainty that what the Bible says is true. No matter how desperate our circumstances, or how weak we may become, God will never leave us, nor forsake us.
If you are going through a difficult time, may I encourage you to hold tight? Continue to spend time with God, even if all you do is cry. He understands. He feels every pain, and He alone has the ability to take our ashes and turn them into something beautiful.
By His grace,
Shannon Farrington
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Historical title.
You find illumination in days gone by. Love Inspired Historical stories lift the spirit as heroines tackle the challenges of life in another era with hope, faith and a focus on family.
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Frontier Engagement
by Regina Scott
Chapter One
Seattle, Washington Territory
June 1866
Alexandrina Eugenia Fosgrave clasped her hands tightly together, one up, one down, as she walked along the carpeted corridor of the boardinghouse for the formal parlor. Though her white organza gown floated about her slippers like a cloud, her heart was hammering against her ribs and her legs felt rubbery. None of that now! She was not going to let her nerves affect the outcome of this interview.
A gentleman wished to hire a schoolteacher, the girl who had come for her had said. He’d already spoken to two others and rejected them out of hand, even though he had few choices. Alexandrina was one of the last teachers among the Mercer expedition who had yet to be whisked away to the wilderness since their arrival in Seattle nearly two months ago.
She knew why the women who had traveled with her from the East Coast had been hired first. They had more experience and stellar references. She had only the written word of the sheriff near Framingham, Massachusetts, that she was of good character, a statement grudgingly given. She was fairly certain he had wished he could have locked her up as easily as he had the other members of the Fosgrave family.
But lacking a position, her financial situation grew more dire each day. She very much feared that she might be forced out into that wilderness, not as the teacher she’d hoped to become, but as a penniless waif.
Please, Lord, let this job be mine! You have been with me through it all. You’re the only one I can rely on.
She paused outside the closed door of the parlor and drew in a deep breath. Mrs. Elliott’s pristine boardinghouse always smelled of roses, the scent matching the pink papered walls and flowered carpeting. It was a suitable lodging for ladies, but she doubted a gentleman would appreciate it.
She tried to imagine the gentleman waiting for her beyond the door now. He’d be an older man, established in his profession, the head of his community. He’d ask about her skills, her experience, her eagerness to mold young minds, the values her family had instilled in her. She’d have to be both honest and circumspect in her answers, for her skills were untested, her experience nonexistent and her eagerness waning with each rejection.
And as for her family, the less said the better.
At least her past had prepared her to exude a certain presence. She felt it slipping over her now. Her head came up, her breath evened out and one hand slipped to her side as she reached for the iron doorknob with the other. She knew every honey-colored hair was in place, her hazel eyes bright and confident even though she quaked inside. She allowed herself a pleasant smile as she walked into the parlor.
And then she very nearly missed her step.
Standing by the cold hearth was a fine figure of a man, tall, lean, with straight golden-brown hair neatly trimmed to the collar of his brown wool suit coat. His broad shoulders were damp with rain, as if he’d ridden far.
But he couldn’t be the head of his community. He looked only a year or two older than her two and twenty years. And other than the warm color of his skin, he didn’t appear as if he lived out in the wilderness and worked out of doors. Those men came to town in flannel shirts, rough trousers and thick-soled boots. With his tailored suit, elegantly patterned waistcoat and bow tie at his throat, he was easily the best-dressed man she’d seen here.
But the man she’d called father had cut a fine figure as well, and look what a scoundrel he’d turned out to be.
Hat in hands that looked strong enough to wield an ax, he nodded a greeting. “Miss Fosgrave, thank you for meeting with me.”
She nodded, as well. He made no move to sit, and she wasn’t sure whether he expected her to perch on one of the hard-backed wooden chairs that dotted the space. With its single shuttered window overlooking Puget Sound, Mrs. Elliott’s parlor resembled a meeting room more than a retreat.
As if he meant to set her at her ease, he offered her a smile. It broadened his lean face, lit his eyes and caused her quaking to cease. Yet something told her he knew exactly how potent that smile could be.
“I came to Seattle on a mission, Miss Fosgrave,” he explained. “We’re about to open a new school in our area, and we have very high expectations for our teacher.”
That was more like it. Every school that had requested a teacher had also sent a list of expectations. She’d rehearsed how to respond. “I was tutored in mathematics, science, geography, history and literature,” she told him. “And I’m fluent in two other languages besides English.”
“Excellent, excellent,” he said, giving his hat a twirl as if he couldn’t contain his delight at her answer. “What we really need is a teacher who is refined, polished and poised. I think you’ll do nicely.”
His gaze swept from her toes to her top, and she felt her blush growing along with his smile. She’d attempted to impress, but how could he know she was the right one for the job just by looking at her? She realized her recent experiences had made her too prone to suspicion, but she could not shake the feeling that there was more here than met the eye.
“You will want to see my credentials,” she said.
“Certainly,” he agreed. “But I have complete confidence in you.”
Arguing with him was like refusing a gift, but she couldn’t accept such an offer without questioning it. She’d seen too many people hurt by blind faith.
“Why would you have confidence in me?” she asked with a frown. “You have no proof of my skills, training or experience.”
He blinked. “I know you have sufficient training—you told me so yourself, and Mr. Mercer would not have listed you as a candidate if you did not meet my criteria. He recommended you in glowing terms.”
He obviously had a much higher opinion of the head of their expedition than she did. She’d grasped Asa Mercer’s lifeline of an offer to travel around the continent to Seattle and teach, but the trip had proved to her that the fellow was too shrewd in his dealings. He had accepted money from a number of men to bring them brides, but he hadn’t told the women someone had helped pay their passage or why. There was mounting evidence that he’d sold some of the women’s belongings without their permission so he could pay for unexpected costs for travel. This man’s connection to Seattle’s so-called emigration agent only raised her concerns.
“How much did you pay Mr. Mercer for that recommendation?” she demanded.
His brows shot up. “Nothing, ma’am. He was happy to oblige an upstanding fellow like myself.”
An upstanding fellow he might be, but she smelled deceit. “If you are one of those men who paid Mr. Mercer to bring him a bride, you can leave right now,” she informed him.
That look was all innocence. “A bride, ma’am? I assure you, I’m here for a schoolteacher.”
Alexandrina shook her head. “I know your game. You intend to carry off some unsuspecting lady with promises. By the time she realizes the error of her ways, her reputation will be compromised and she’ll be forced to marry you. You should be ashamed of
yourself for offering false promises to those in need! I will go nowhere with you and neither will any of the ladies in this house.”
She thought he might back away, offer apologies. Certainly men had scrambled to oblige when the woman she’d known as Mother had used such a tone. Instead, his reaction to her set down proved his determination. He approached her and took one of her hands in his, holding it reverently and gazing at her beseechingly. He had the eyes of the deepest blue. They pulled her closer more surely than his grip.
“Miss Fosgrave, please don’t dismiss my offer,” he urged. “Nothing I said was false. We need someone of your intelligence and sophistication to bring culture to our youth. Who else but a lady of your refinement could adequately guide them into the future?”
As fulsome compliments went, his weren’t bad and neither was the earnestness of his manner. Under other circumstances, her resolve might have even wavered. But he couldn’t know that she’d heard far better from veteran charlatans who had pulled the wool over the eyes of hundreds of townspeople. His considerable charm paled in comparison.
She drew back. “Unless you have someone to vouch for your purpose, sir, I must ask you to leave.”
He frowned as if he wasn’t used to being refused. A gamin-like grin, a well-worded tease and copious amounts of compliments had probably won the day for him more times than he could count. But he would find she was made of stronger stuff.
“Do you know Miss Madeleine O’Rourke?” he asked.
Now Alexandrina frowned. “Yes. We share a room.”
His brow cleared. “Then she can vouch for me.” He grabbed her hand again and attempted to tug her toward the door.
She dug in her feet, the soles of her slippers dragging against the carpet. “Release me this instant!”
Second Chance Love Page 24
