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

by Rose Jenster

  Frank was a hard man to argue with, very decided in his opinions. Lane shrugged and went out. He’d clean forgotten—in all that fool marriage talk—to pick up the latest edition of the paper. He stopped at the mercantile for one of those marriage newspapers instead. Lane looked over the ads placed there by other men in want of wives. Widowers like himself and bachelors, men who weren’t too proud to admit how deep their loneliness went told their stories. He fished in his pocket for coins and went to the post office to send a telegram. Lane wasn’t a man to waver when he’d made up his mind. He wired the text of his ad directly to the publisher for the next edition.

  Lane didn’t look back on it anxiously, didn’t wonder what would come of the choice. He felt that if Frank could speak so vehemently about advertising for a bride—if a man he’d thought cold and sometimes rude had expressed warmly his wish for Lane to find equal happiness in the married state—then he felt God had taken a hand to guide him and used, of all unlikely people, Frank as a messenger. He chuckled to himself, thinking how indignant Frank would be if he knew he were being considered a messenger.

  When he arrived home, the sheriff found an old blanket on his front porch. In the blanket was a fawn with an injured leg. He tucked the blanket around the wounded animal and lifted it tenderly, carrying it indoors and setting it on the rug before the hearth. Lane made up a bit of sugar water for the fawn to lap at while he set the leg gingerly with a narrow splint of the kind he kept about. He often whittled splints from young wood of a day on the weekends to have on hand when his neighbors found an injured creature. Lane was known for tending to them, helping them to heal. He’d left the front door open without thinking and in bounded Inky, the fat raccoon he’d rescued from the well bucket in town last spring. Poor thing would’ve drowned if Lane hadn’t spotted him and reeled him up, taking a scratch to the arm in the process.

  He took care of Inky and in return, the temperamental critter visited him to partake of table scraps. The critter also jumped up on his lap, claws extended at least half the time. Lane chuckled. At least this fawn wasn’t likely to scratch at him. He gave Inky a few things from his scrap bucket to keep him on the other side of the room so the coon wouldn’t trouble the fawn as it rested.

  Lane settled down on the settee and the raccoon snuggled up beside him, still munching on the ends of turnip greens with great concentration. Lane flipped through the marriage papers again and then set them aside. His decision was made and he had only to wait for God and Frank Barton to provide guidance, he thought merrily.

  Chapter 3

  Rochester, NY

  Jessica thought about going to England. She knew her mother wanted her to go, as much to have her out of the way during the wedding as to give her a respite from the scandal. And scandal it was, with the daily flow of invitations to the household slowing to a trickle—perhaps one or two small engagements per week, when they used to have to pick and choose to narrow their commitments down to two or three per day! It was all down to Jessica and her rash behavior. The one that stung the most of all was not Mrs. Overling basically throwing them over socially. In fact, she invited only Eloise to a luncheon, excluding both mother and sister. But, it was the cut she received from Rosella herself.

  Rosella, the one who had benefited most from Jessica’s fall from grace, had sent a brief note a few days later stating that she regretted to withdraw the invitation at such short notice, but due to remodeling at her parents’ town home (they only had one residence and certainly couldn’t afford to have it improved or decorated until Rosella found a rich husband, Jessica knew), her birthday luncheon could not possibly accommodate as many people as she had invited.

  Being such old, close friends, Rosella knew that her darling Jessica would forgive her since it was all due to the formal dining room being under construction. There was some fabrication about restoring the frescoes. Jessica knew perfectly well where Rosella’s relatives lived and she’d be a monkey’s uncle if there was a mural or a fresco anywhere in that place.

  She knew what was really going on with this excuse. After such a close call, almost getting caught with a rascal like Oppenheimer, Rosella was distancing herself from Jessica’s disgrace. She couldn’t afford to have friends who did such things. Jessica thought that was ironic since Rosella was the trouble causer herself.

  It took two chapters of Hardy and an almond cake to calm Jessica down after receiving that note. Then she thought reasonably that Rosella needed to make a brilliant marriage and had maybe learned her lesson about risking her reputation to the ruin of her family. Jessica, at least, was only a social embarrassment, not a financial one as her family were not in financial distress.

  Jessica's prospects for a husband didn’t have to be among the wealthiest. Admittedly, now she’d have to marry someone who had a checkered past of his own, someone who wouldn’t mind too much if she had been immoral and loose. She cringed at the thought and didn’t want such a man. Certainly she was not a dance hall girl at a society party. Jessica dropped her book and buried her face in the chair cushion miserably. She’d really made a mess of things.

  England, perhaps, wouldn’t be so bad. No one there knew she had been caught in that garden. No one there would look at her and whisper about her. She’d have a clean slate in English social circles. Jessica could stay in a nice country manor like the ones she read about in Austen novels. She could read and do needlepoint and take walks outdoors to look at the scenery. It could be a peaceful summer. Surely Mother’s relations would be told she was heartbroken or jilted or something, and no mention would be made of her ill judgment. It was like Mother to want to protect her with a tidy story to cover her sins. England might be just the thing.

  At luncheon that day, she steeled herself to tell her mother she’d thought it over and, on careful consideration, she thought spending England in the summer would be quite suitable. She could see the sights…perhaps go to Stratford-upon-Avon and see where Shakespeare had lived, Another trip could be to visit the Lake District which was supposed to be so full of nature’s beauties. Despite her fine education, Jessica’s English geography was a little sketchy. In fact, she wasn’t sure how many counties they were or how far Stratford was from London or the lakes. She could, thanks to that costly education, pour tea beautifully and recite all the kings of England in order of succession—not that it was a very useful skill.

  Eloise looked up from picking at her dinner to remark that Jessica seemed a bit plump since she was exiled from society and maybe she could take a bit more exercise in England.

  “Oh, I should think she’d spend a great deal more time at drawing room etiquette and polite conversation than she will walking about the countryside,” her mother said a bit smugly. Jessica barely kept herself from drooping at this news, because she had hoped to take long rambles in the gardens and to the nearby village to look at hats as well as to find a friendly bookshop. The idea that she was being sent to England for a sort of refresher course in manners was not welcome news.

  “I already learned deportment, Mother. At school it was taught,” she said mildly.

  “Yes, you did have classes in that, didn’t you,” her mother said neutrally. “But it’s never too late to correct ill habits and start down a better path,” she finished cheerfully.

  “I thought you believed me! You understood that I only followed…someone outside but I never did anything bad—“ Jessica said, falling into the trap of defending her actions once again.

  “Now, darling, you mustn’t fuss. What matters is that we can get you some better prospects, a fresh start in England,” her mother said reprovingly.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessica mumbled, reminding herself that she was the one who had caused all this mess and she should not whimper about it.

  “Do you truly think that news of her disgrace won’t follow her to England?” Eloise asked.

  “The letters by mail are slow, of course, and the abode of my respected cousin is in a rural area of Somerset—it is unlike
ly that she is known among our general acquaintance, nor is she one to gossip. I think our dear Jessica will be quite safe from censure there. Her reputation will be perfectly spotless. Cousin Agatha was a great stickler for manners and propriety when I was a girl, so I expect nothing less than a fully reformed and polished Jessica to launch on the season,” her mother said.

  “Pardon me, Mother? Launch?”

  “You’ll have your debut when the social season begins in London, of course. After Eloise is safely wed, I shall join you in Somerset and we’ll outfit you for a proper come out. You’re a bit older than the other girls, to be sure, but we can say there was a death in the family and we’ve been in deep mourning or something like that, to delay your debut,” her mother said happily.

  Jessica looked at her father who continued to eat with great concentration to avoid meeting his daughter’s eyes.

  “Why would I take part in the social season? I thought I was going to England while the scandal blew over and then I could come home…” Jessica said hopefully.

  “Of course, unless you have a better opportunity. Surely there are eligible men in London in want of a bride, particularly a wealthy bride from a respected family and with a sizable dowry to recommend her,” her mother said.

  Jessica was appalled, “You’re sending me there to marry me off to someone who doesn’t know I disgraced my family? That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t get anyone in our set to look at me twice because I acted like a fool so you have to ship me off overseas to fetch a husband?” Jessica was hurt and nearly in tears.

  Eloise looked at her balefully,” Well, what did you expect us to do with you, Jessica? Let you stay at home eating almond cakes and getting chubbier while the gossip mill churned? You have to make a marriage and you’ve a better chance than most with our family money as long as you don’t go around exposing yourself as you did at the Overlings and making trouble. You can’t pick where you’ll marry or settle now because—you gave that up when you went off with Mr. Oppenheimer!” Eloise was getting more animated as she spoke.

  “Enough, Ellie,” her mother scolded. “Jessie, I’m sure, feels badly enough without being forever reminded of her sins. None of us are perfect, indeed. The fact is, though, what Ellie said is true---cruelly stated and requiring an apology, but accurate nonetheless. You may be excused, Miss Eloise, to your room where you will write out sixteen pages of the chapter of Ruth to remind you of the loyalty owed to one’s family in the eyes of the Lord,” she said firmly.

  Eloise was about to make an annoyed face but she sighed and pushed back her chair, thinking better of it. She went upstairs with a muttered “sorry” to Jessica. Jessica’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. She and Ellie used to be so close. First the engagement and now this scandal seemed to have driven them far apart. Always before she had borne with her sister’s melodrama and her sister had borne with her awkwardness. They had complimented each other. Now it was almost a relief when Eloise left the table.

  “Your father and I think it’s likely that a baronet or even perhaps a lord—someone with an old and noble title might be in search of a wife, needing an influx of cash to repair the family manor or pay off some debts…”

  “So, a golddigger? A man who’s willing to give me his name for the use of my dowry?” Jessica shut her eyes tightly, willing the tears to hold back until she made it to her room. “Please excuse me, Mother, I—I have a headache coming on,” she protested weakly and fled to her room.

  Jessica threw herself on the bed and sobbed her heart out. This was what she’d been reduced to---a source of capital for some impoverished nobleman. A nobleman who wanted her only for her money and would no doubt be indifferent to her at best. At worst he might be unkind, might have a mistress or have a gambling problem…and she would be at his mercy, his property in the eyes of the law, to do with as he willed.

  She was stunned that her stupid mistake in the maze had so overtaken her life and her prospects. Jessica had hoped to marry for love, to find a gentleman who liked books and shared her interests. She was now to accept the suit of any man willing to tolerate her dubious reputation in order to get to her dowry. It was too awful to bear.

  Desperate measures were indicated. Gathering her wits and wiping her face with a handkerchief, she summoned her resolve and rang for the maid. She gave the woman a few coins to go into town and buy her the matrimonial papers, and several more to buy her silence. Within an hour Jessica was reading the advertisements placed by men in the western frontier who were seeking brides. It was better to make her own choice, to find a husband who might be kind in temperament, who knew nothing of her fortune and would choose her based upon herself alone. This was her last and only hope for a match of affection, or at least for a marriage based upon something other than her dowry.

  Jessica read the advertisements swiftly. She was always a quick reader at school and zipped hastily through some of the classics in a single evening remembering all the details. So it was a simple thing for Jessica to look at the pages and choose her favorites. Her requirements were simple. She wanted to live in a town or city, because she had a better chance of access to a lending library and working with the Ladies Aid Society for the church—useful occupations for her time and skills. It was very important that the man sounded kind. That was truly all. For a young woman with the finest education and accomplishments that money could buy in New England, her requirements were almost embarrassingly slight.

  Jessica chose three advertisements and sheared them out of the paper with her sewing scissors. She laid them in a row on her writing desk. Carefully, she worded a single telegram to send to all three, as time was of the essence. Rather than dispatching the housemaid again on her errand, Jessica secured her hat with a long pearl pin and set off for the telegraph office. She sent the telegrams to the matrimonial paper itself with the reference number for each ad, asking that her message be forwarded to the owners of each advertisement in hope of finding love as quickly as possible.

  Matrimonial Press Please forward this to ad #431 STOP

  Dear Sir STOP I am an educated Christian young lady seeking a kind husband with all haste STOP Please reply if interested STOP with regards Jessica Donnelly STOP

  The telegraph operator, though he was used to her messages to schoolfellows and cousins who lived at a distance, had never known her to send such a telegram before. He raised his eyebrows at her and she knew he was wondering if he should protest against transmitting such an improper message, three times over.

  Jessica pressed her lips together and gave him the stern look her schoolmistress had taught all the girls to use as their expression when scolding an impertinent perso. This was the first, and hopefully only time, Jessica had ever had to use such a haughty scowl. It seemed to silence the man before he could raise a fuss so she considered her education well worth it in that moment.

  She would check each day at the telegraph office and hope against hope that her mother didn’t receive a swift response from her English relations providing the necessary invitation for Jessica to come stay with them. She knew she would not travel until the formal invitation was received and a favorable reply dispatched. That gave her some weeks in which to cherish hope of a rescue.

  Jessica kept the three advertisements in her reticule. She had no need to save them as she’d read them each enough to commit them to memory.

  #431 Montana Territory sheriff would like to exchange letters with a Christian lady who is fond of animals, the outdoors and books. Intent is to marry.

  #277 Idaho doctor wishes to marry a well-bred young lady who is practical and not squeamish, to be a helpmeet and mother to my two sons.

  #116 Widower in Wyoming Territory likes a good meal and reading the Bible by the fire of an evening, though I am a shopkeeper by day. I will be a good provider if you will be a good Christian wife and mother.

  She wanted very much for at least one of them to reply to her rather unconventional telegram. Jessica hoped that none of them would judge h
er too harshly for being so forward. It really was a desperate act, she knew, but it was the only way she could manage to take control of her future. Her mother meant well, and Jessica was sure that her mother thought England was her best chance for a good match.

  The fact was, Jessica’s idea of a good match wasn’t the same as her mother’s. Her mother valued good breeding and family status to match her own, while Jessica would prefer a man that had similar interests and was fair no matter who his parents had been. She was proud of herself for pursuing her happiness any way she could, but felt a pang at going behind her parents’ backs to do so. It was unworthy and ungrateful for a daughter. It was something else to reproach herself about, she knew.

  The next morning, a telegram was delivered to the Donnelly house for Jessica. She tore it open and read.

  Miss Donnelly, I am 431 Sheriff Timothy Lane STOP Your initiative is admirable. If you like animals and the outdoors, write letters please STOP Address to Billings, Montana Territory STOP Best regards Lane STOP

  Beaming, she did a little twirl right there in the marble foyer of her parents’ impressive home. This man, this sheriff, respected her initiative instead of taking her to task for it. She hurried out to the telegraph office to post a reply that she was going to send him three letters this very day to introduce herself and she’d like him to do the same, to speed their acquaintance.

  It was a rash decision, but surely not all rash decisions turned out to be disastrous, she told herself. Then she went home and wrote her letters while her mother and Eloise were paying morning visits. That was one benefit of being socially ostracized…she had plenty of time for correspondence and leisure.