Mail Order Brides Collection Boxed Set: Felicity, Frank, Verity and Jessica, Books 3-6 (Montana Mail Order Brides Series)

by Rose Jenster

  “Should you go put your feet up and rest?” Adam suddenly realized he really didn't know much about care during pregnancy.

  “I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

  “Even if it isn’t necessary, I insist. I know your new box of books from the lending library arrived yesterday. Go open a book and I’ll fry up some eggs for supper.”

  “I’m the happiest of women,” she told him.

  “I intend to keep you that way, my wife,” Adam replied, kissing her gently on the forehead.

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Verity Rexing bounced the baby in her arms, hoping that he wouldn’t spit up on the lovely christening gown that Mrs. Rogers had made for him It was lovely white muslin with hand-tatted lace. Verity sang to him softly and kissed his round, bald head. She looked warmly at her husband. Adam stood at the back of the church, thumbs in his suspenders, proud as might be. Their son, Noah, was not a month old yet, but Adam was sure the boy would one day take over the forge and work the billows and hammer himself.

  When the minister’s wife began playing the organ, everyone sat down and Verity cuddled their little son. His determined small fist curled around one of her fingers as if to make it clear that she was his mother and belonged to him! The little creature certainly had her heart and his father’s in the bargain. Adam kissed the top of Verity's head and patted their son’s energetically kicking legs reassuringly.

  The child evidently didn’t like his fancy christening dress at all. He had dispensed with the bonnet immediately, unable to endure even the plainest of head coverings for the special occasion. Noah fretted over the ribbon tied beneath his chin until they removed the thing entirely.

  “Never much liked wearing a hat myself,” Adam had said with amusement, “Clearly he takes after his pa.”

  “He takes after you enough as it is,” Verity said with mock-indignation. “I can see clearly by looking at him exactly what you’ll look like when you’re bald and toothless!”

  Adam had laughed heartily at that and suggested that they save the bonnet for such a day.

  “So you’ll wear a child’s bonnet when you lose your hair?” Visualizing this caused Verity to laugh heartily.

  “No, but you can look at it and reminisce about how handsome I was when I had hair and our son refused to wear the thing. It will bring back fond memories of our baby and his temper and my full head of hair,” Adam said with a twinkle in his eye.

  “From here on, I think we’ll have only the best of memories,” Verity said, suddenly bashful.

  They sat now, an hour past the bonnet discussion, in the hard pews of the church waiting to be called forth to present their son to the church. They listened as the minister read the Scripture about Jesus’ presentation at the temple, about the offering of pigeons.

  Verity nestled close by Adam’s shoulder and thought what a wonderful long way she had come since that day at Vaughn Academy when Ms. Debenham demoted her. She remembered vividly that train ride to a frontier so different from her life before that it might as well have been a foreign country. This life was as joyful, as lovely as anything she could have imagined. She sat in the church beside her husband and cradled their new son in her arms as she gently rocked him.

  Mail Order Bride Jessica

  Montana Mail Order Bride Series, Book 6

  Chapter 1

  Rochester, NY, 1891

  Twenty years earlier, a new baby girl was named Victoria Jessica Clarice. The governor had attended the christening and the celebration had famously turned away guests after the three hundredth arrived to toast the eldest child of John (nee Seamus) Donnelly and his exquisite and accomplished wife, the former Lady Eustacia Evelina Wellingford. They had the highest hopes for their daughter and the highest standards as well. She had a nursemaid who read her Bible stories, kept her pinafores neatly starched and taught her good manners. Soon she had a little sister, Eloise Evelina Marguerite, who was the image of their mother.

  Now, two decades on, this eldest daughter, called Jessica by her own insistence since the age of three, hovered in the doorway of a grand ballroom. Her father propelled her into the crowd, his hand at her gloved elbow. Jessica dropped her fan and had to bend down to retrieve it, rumpling her lace. She smoothed the peach satin skirts of her ballgown, shaking the fabric a little so the wide hem of cream colored Brussels lace hung smoothly. Her eyes scanned the crowd for her sister, the newly engaged Eloise. Eloise had, unsurprisingly, made a brilliant match at age nineteen, and was betrothed to Stewart Overling of the Hartford Overling family that held a fortune in silver mines.

  This was a special Overling party. If it weren’t, Jessica could have begged off with a headache and stayed at home, quite comfortable with a cup of tea and a book instead of nervously chewing her lip and wondering why her corset always had to pinch so. It was her sister’s new family hosting the lavish event, so it was necessary for Jessica to appear. She was supposed to look pleasant, pretty and quiet and hope to catch the eye of a rich man, a cousin perhaps to the groom-elect.

  “No, Jessica dear, not for the ratafia table yet,” her father said kindly. “Go speak with the young people. Isn’t that your friend, Rosella Grosvenor by the potted palm?”

  Jessica was at least happy to see her friend. She hadn’t known Rosella that long, but the girl was extremely clever and sarcastic. Sometimes she'd even call her Jesse, which Jessica enjoyed from those close to her as a nickname. Those qualities made her a delight at stuffy parties like this one. As she approached, she saw Rosella tap her companion’s sleeve with her lace fan, laughing merrily. The man who stood with her was a stranger to Jessica, but she knew his name well from hearing it so long on the clucking tongues of her mother’s friends. It was Peter Oppenheimer, the Overling cousin who was visiting from Philadelphia.

  He supposedly had to flee his creditors and there were rumors that he had caused a young girl to get in trouble there as well. His reputation had been through the muck and yet he seemed to find it all endlessly amusing. Peter Oppenheimer wasn’t one to be ashamed of his conduct apparently, and arrived in all his fashionable glory trying to charm her own dear friend Rosella. Indignant, Jessica strode up to them with more spunk than she felt and looped her arm around Rosella's.

  “Do forgive me, but I must steal her away,” Jessica said airily and spirited her friend to another part of the room.

  “Why in heaven’s name would you do such a thing, Jessica Donnelly?” Rosella scolded. “I was having ever so much fun with that wicked boy. You wouldn’t believe the things he told me of his relations the Overlings!”

  “I’ve no wish to know what he would say about them. I have no doubt that such a man would talk badly about his own family who loaned him the protection of their good name while he…hides out from his troubles!” Jessica said firmly.

  “He has plenty to say about your sister’s betrothed. Are you sure you don’t want to hear?” Rosella teased her and winked.

  “Not a bit of it. Eloise adores Stewart and I should hate to hear anything ill about him,” Jessica said.

  “You’re too careful today. I suppose your mother gave her another of her talks about improving your manners?”

  “Maybe one of these times such a lecture will do me some good. As it is, I’d much rather be home with a book and one of those almond cakes that Cook makes so well,” Jessica mourned.

  “If you’d stay away from those little cakes, your corset wouldn’t hurt,” Rosella cautioned.

  “I do know you’re right. I’m too fond of sweets. Still, I think you’re too fond of trouble, especially in the form of that horrid Oppenheimer chap,” Jessica said.

  “Let’s fan ourselves and try to lure dance partners, shall we?” Rosella suggested amiably.

  They stood along the wall by the society matrons and watched the figures of the dance as the couples moved from one end of the ballroom to the other, following the steps perfectly. Jessica loved watching people dance, how lightly and gracef
ully they moved, how natural it seemed. She didn’t feel nearly the same affection for having to dance herself. It involved counting the rhythm and apologizing when she tread on someone’s shoe. It was entirely too distressing.

  Soon enough, that wicked man claimed Rosella’s hand and she danced with him quite cheerfully. She laughed at something he said, her black curls bouncing as she hopped down the floor with him in a country reel. Jessica glowered at him, thinking he ought to leave respectable girls alone. He could ruin Rosella’s reputation just that easily, at the smallest hint of impropriety.

  There was no sense in letting her friend’s taste for mischief endanger her prospects. Rosella needed to make a good marriage—her family name held more prestige than wealth at this point. She shouldn’t risk her image this way, Jessie thought. A young lady was only as marriageable as her reputation was spotless! How many times had their mother lectured Eloise and Jessica on being sweet and meek and avoiding flirtation and teasing at all cost, lest they be called fast? No one wants an eligible son to get involved with some flirtatious little tart, her mother had said more than once.

  So when Jessica saw that Rosella was taking lemonade with Peter Oppenheimer, she worried for her friend. Rosella was full of fun and mischief and often didn’t think before she acted. Even as Jessica took the hand of her sister’s betrothed and followed him through the figures of the dance, her thoughts were preoccupied with protecting Rosella from herself. Jessica managed to murmur pleasantries about the number of couples, the arrangement of the ballroom, the lovely flowers and her sister’s dress. By the time the dance was finished, she turned away from a young man requesting a dance and searched for Rosella.

  Jessica was in time to see the lavender bustle of Rosella's gown disappear out the French windows with Peter Oppenheimer’s hand at her back, touching her rather familiarly! Jessica gave an involuntary yelp and set off after them at an unladylike trot. She navigated her way through the throngs of stylish people, trying not to jostle or alarm them as she rushed toward the open doors that let in the soft night breeze. There was no one on the terrace, so they must have taken the stone stairs down into the garden itself. Jessica climbed down the stairs gingerly in her soft slippers. As the music and voices from above receded, she could make out the throaty laugh of her friend in the shrubbery maze beyond.

  Oh, Rosella! How could you be so foolish? He’ll never marry you and he’s penniless besides! These thoughts repeated in Jessica's mind.

  Every pebble scored her tender feet as she rushed into the winding path of bushes, seeking her friend who was throwing herself away on a man who would only make her look ridiculous and disgraceful. Jessica would find them and talk sense to Rosella. She'd drag her away if necessary. At least her own presence would lend the appearance of propriety by acting as a chaperone. If pressed, she could say that Rosella felt faint in the warmth of the ballroom and that Mr. Oppenheimer offered to escort her out to take in fresh air. Out of concern for her dear friend, Jessica would let people know that she accompanied them. That would satisfy etiquette in a pinch, she reassured herself.

  Jessica heard low voices, his a rumble and Rosella's soft sigh. Oh, Jessica wanted to cover her ears! How could they? She charged forward, taking the wrong turning and having to double back. Drat this maze! She came upon them at last, in a clinch, kissing

  Shocked, Jessica gasped. “Rosella! Think of your family!” She admonished, “We have to get you back to the ballroom before you’re missed or your reputation—“

  Rosella laughed, “You’re so serious, Jessica. Look at you, it’s as if you’ve uncovered us at a crime!”

  Jessica was horrified that her friend thought this was funny and that it was nothing to fret about.

  Just then she heard another voice. “Jessamine, dear? Are you quite well? It’s Mrs. Overling! I’m coming. I thought you might have taken ill the way you left the ball so suddenly. Your poor mother is quite upset with worry!” There was a rustle as the woman turned around and came back toward them.

  Jessica’s eyes darted left to right in panic. There was nowhere to hide herself and escape. Even if there had been, she would not abandon her friend to the censure of their hostess. She stood firm, though her knees shook with fright. Jessica looked at Peter Oppenheimer who was laughing into his hand as Rosella slipped through the shrubberies and climbed out of the maze, running away from the scene. Jessica’s own eyes grew wide in disbelief. Her friend had left her to take the blame for this shameful situation. She felt the color flood her cheeks and she answered her good hostess.

  “I am over here, Mrs. Overling. I was taking air in the garden, quite overcome by the heat of the ballroom, and came upon Mr. Oppenheimer here. I heard the rustling in the maze and curiosity got the better of me, I’m afraid,” she lied, trying to the very last to protect her faithless friend.

  Mrs. Overling looked down her thin, upper class nose with a mix of disgust and sadness. “Ah, Jessamine. This is truly sad. A girl of your upbringing should know better than to go about at night with a man. To think I stood next to your dear mother when you were baptized to the Lord. Now to see you come to this. You have fallen far in my estimation, child. We must return to the ballroom at once and inform your parents of your infraction,” the lady said, duly shocked by Jessica’s behavior.

  Jessica surprised herself by bursting into tears of shame and disappointment. She should have known better than to go about risking herself and her family name to protect a friend who didn’t want saving and who clearly would not do the same for her. Jessica should have been less meddlesome and more practical. She shouldn’t have gone after Rosella. In short, she got what she deserved. Jessica discarded the idea of faking a swoon to avoid talking to her parents. Facing them was to be a pure nightmare, she knew. No amount of excuses, true or not, could fix what she’d done.

  Jessica’s feet felt leaden as she followed Mrs. Overling up the path. The soft rustle of her hostess’ taffeta gown was the only sound in their uncomfortable silence. To her credit, Mrs. Overling beamed disapproval on her without chastising her loudly. She was, in her way, trying to keep the transgression quiet. There was really no way to keep it quiet. Soon everyone would know. Rosella was drinking ratafia with a man in regimentals, laughing as if nothing were wrong. She took no responsibility for the disgrace. Jessica was led to her parents and her mother’s ashen face told her all.

  “We will, of course, see that Eloise is home safely. I understand that you need to take your other daughter home to…rest,” Mrs. Overling said. The way she said ‘other’ daughter sounded like Jessica belonged in a mental institution or a home for unfortunate girls rather than a ballroom.

  Her mother nodded gravely, blinking to keep tears back as she thanked Mrs. Overling for ‘looking after our sweet Jessica’ and apologizing for any trouble that she had caused. Jessica took the arm her father offered and out they went into the night. As soon as they were shut in the carriage, she burst out in tears.

  “I did nothing wrong! It was not what Mrs. Overling thought it was, Mother!” Jessica's voice was pleading, “I only followed…a friend to try and stop her from making just such an error. I foolishly put myself in this situation. Only please believe me that I did nothing at all that was wrong!

  “Settle down, Jessica,” her mother said primly. “We know our daughter well and I never suspected you of having some tawdry garden rendezvous with Mr. Oppenheimer. But you must consider how it looks. It appears that you stole away in the night to meet with him. A modest Christian young lady doesn’t behave that way and we can’t pretend to approve, regardless of what you meant to do. You were caught committing a wrong action and there’s nothing for it but to live through it,” her mother said.

  “Will it…cause a scandal that hurts Eloise?” Jessica asked more meekly now.

  “I reckon Miss Eloise is fixed with Stewart and he won’t waver from her side. He’s a good sort. It doesn’t make our family look any better than we ought to be, though. It’ll be a grief for you
r mother, especially,” her father said.

  “I’m so sorry I ran out there. Truly I am! I meant to—well, to meddle and interfere as you’re always warning me about. I thought I could save a friend from soiling her reputation . But, I’ve gone and ruined my own,” Jessica said, her voice low. The consequences were registering and she was trembling inside.

  “It was right of you to try to correct your friend’s actions. However, it was at great risk to yourself and now you’ve got the penance for her sin,” her mother said.

  “I know. I should have listened to you. You told me often enough to curb my meddling,” Jessica said ruefully.

  Her mother reached over and stroked her hair fondly, “I’m proud to have raised an honorable daughter but it breaks my heart to see you suffer for it. We’ve tried to teach you about keeping the wrong company and that Rosella—“

  “Oh, Mother, I never said it was Rosella!” Jessica protested.

  “Don’t interrupt your mother,” her father said automatically.

  “We both know it was Rosella, darling. She was always too sharp in her talk and a bit fast, as we see now. By associating with her, you’re now in this trouble,” her mother chastened her.

  “Yes, Mother. You told me about evil company and about meddling. I do know better than to act as I have. I’ll take my lesson from it,” Jessica said seriously.

  Her mother put an arm about her shoulders and hugged her. “It’s unfortunate I have to see you suffer. There’s no remedy for this. Those who truly know you like your parents and your sister will see there is no truth to it, but everyone else will consider you compromised and ruined,” her mother said.

  “I know. I will stay at home now, out of sight until the scandal passes,” she said.

  “It won’t pass at all, lass,” her father said ruefully. “A girl’s reputation doesn’t just get clean again. It’s spoiled. You’re not spoiled and we know it. You’re as good a girl as you ever were, but these society types won’t see that and they won’t want their sons marrying such a girl,” he said.