Nellie took the piece of paper, giving Katie a searching glance before putting on her spectacles and reading the ad slowly. Katie saw how the cook was using her fingers to move from word to word. I should have read it out to her. She kept forgetting that not everyone had the benefit of a Mam who had insisted all her children, boys and girls, were taught their letters.
Nellie finished the piece, removed her glasses and stared at Katie for a few seconds. The silence grew uncomfortable.
“You think I am wanton for even considering marrying a man I haven’t met, don’t you?”
“Not wanton, Katie girl, but desperate. I know you are unhappy here, but to go to this length to get away? Surely there are other alternatives?”
Katie shook her head. “You and I know there isn’t much choice for the likes of us. I don’t want to leave you, Nellie. You’ve been like a mother to Ellen and myself, but I can’t stand living here for much longer. Every time Aunt Margaret makes a spiteful remark about our Liam, I am set to slap her.”
“Liam? Oh, he’s the one who…” Nellie stopped, her embarrassment obvious.
“Yes, he’s the one who got arrested and the reason Daddy lost his farm. Liam didn’t do anything. He wasn’t involved with the gang who robbed and set fire to the big house but the English soldiers didn’t believe him. He was an Irish lad, and in their eyes, that made him guilty. He didn’t help himself either. He could have told them who really did it.”
“The mistress should believe you. He’s her kin, too. She is a funny woman. She used to be—well, not nice, exactly, but more pleasant. But the loss of the babies and what with your uncle…” Nellie’s face grew redder. “Anyway, enough of that talk. Let’s go back to the matter at hand. Maura Gantley is a respectable woman who has lived in Boutwell Avenue for more years than I care to remember. She has, or at least had, four boys of her own. One died from smallpox and I think one went to Europe. Maybe to England. The other two went west. Maybe that’s what started this service of hers?” Nellie picked up the ad again. “Imagine marrying a man you haven’t even laid eyes on. Could you do that, Katie girl?”
“I think I have to, Nellie. I have to think of Ellen. She can’t live here on her own, and she is too young and naïve to go into service. It’s not that I don’t trust her. She works hard, but you know what she is like. Her head is in the clouds most of the time. She shouldn’t be working this hard either. Her health isn’t up to it.”
“What would your Mam, God rest her soul, think about you marrying a man like this? Surely she would have planned something different.”
“It was all supposed to be different.” Katie couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “But being poor in Ireland isn’t any different to being poor in America. You don’t have any rights. If someone rich accuses you of doing something, it doesn’t matter if you are innocent. You and your whole family pay the consequences. I was lucky. I’m still alive. Mam isn’t.”
The tears rolled down Katie’s cheeks despite her best efforts to stop them. She clenched her hands over and over, trying her best to stop the flood, but it didn’t work.
“Let them out, Katie girl. You need to grieve sometime. You spend all hours working and watching out for Ellen. You have got to feel the hurt and let it go. God will look after you. You are a good girl.”
“God didn’t look after my family, did He, Nellie? Why? They were good people. Liam had a girl waiting for him. They were going to be married. Mam was all excited about the wedding. He’d have been married over a year by now; Mam should have been bouncing a new grandbaby on her lap. Instead, she is dead, he’s as good as dead and I don’t know what happened to Siobhan.”
“Kathleen O’Callaghan, you wash your mouth out now, you hear? God has his ways and it is not for us to reason why bad things happen.” Nellie softened her tone, taking one of Katie’s hands in hers. “Katie girl, you have to believe in God. What else makes life worthwhile? Say your prayers. Ask your Mam for help. I will pray, too. I will ask Him to relieve your sorrows, but also to pick a good man for you. I will help you get out of here, Katie girl. I will make sure of it, just as sure as my name is Nellie Power.”
Katie crossed her fingers. “I promise to try praying more, Nellie. I have to go to church anyway, as I need a reference from Father Molloy. I don’t know who else to ask.”
“Your Aunt Margaret will write you a reference,” Nellie said, a sparkle in her eyes. At Katie’s questioning look, she continued. “Well, she won’t know she wrote it. I know it’s dishonest, but we must do what needs to be done. I will confess my sins, but not until you are on your way out West. Now what you doing still sitting here? You got a letter to write.”
“Oh, I wish I could take you with me, Nellie. I really do. Thank you.” Katie gave the older woman a hug before racing toward the door. She heard Nellie mutter, “I love you, Katie girl, but I’m not going anywhere near Indian country. Not for you or nobody.”
Chapter 8
Calm down. You won’t impress Mrs. Gantley if you stand here shaking like a leaf. Katie counted backward from ten, trying to slow her breathing right down. She wanted to make a favorable impression, having determined going west was the best escape for her and Ellen.
She knocked and stood back as the butler opened the door. His face remained impassive when she asked to speak to Mrs. Gantley. Katie wondered how many other prospective brides he had shown into the lady’s reception room. He motioned for Katie to follow him and led her into a parlor.
“Please take a seat. The mistress will be with you shortly.” He turned and went out the door, leaving Katie alone.
The room smelled of beeswax and lavender. Katie glanced around, her gaze taking in the walnut coffee table and small writing desk, the baby grand piano in the corner and the large overmantel. Although pale sunlight trickled through the window, she was glad of the small fire crackling in the grate.
Tempted as she was to stand in front of the heat to warm up her hands and feet, Katie perched at the edge of the sofa. She was afraid to sit back in case she got the beautiful cream slipcovers dirty. She held her hands in her lap in an effort to stop them shaking. Get a hold of yourself.
As the minutes ticked by, she gave in to temptation and leaned back into the comfortable couch. Her head rested against the tapestry coverings. She closed her eyes, daydreaming she was the lady of a house as fine as this one. Smiling, she imagined what her husband would look like. She was so caught up in her daydream that she didn’t hear any footsteps in the hall outside. The noise of the door opening brought her back to earth with a start.
“Good afternoon.”
Katie tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t follow her brain’s instruction. She was mesmerized, looking at the woman who flowed rather than walked into the room. She was so elegant, Katie found herself to be tongue-tied despite the friendly face and soft smile looking back at her.
“Please don’t get up. I am sorry to keep you waiting. I am afraid the rather unfortunate smell is the cookies I planned on serving.”
Katie nodded. Speak, for goodness sake. She is going to think you are simple minded.
“Please excuse me, Mrs. Gantley. My name is Katie, I mean Kathleen O’Callaghan. I am in awe of your beautiful house.”
Mrs. Gantley looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “It is rather pretty, isn’t it? My husband and son travel abroad regularly. I am afraid they spoil me by bringing back unusual presents they feel I will enjoy. I love being surrounded by beautiful things. The world today can be rather ugly, don’t you think, Miss O’Callaghan?”
Katie nodded but couldn’t really imagine what ugliness Mrs. Gantley would have experienced.
A maid interrupted them, bringing coffee. The rich aroma made Katie’s mouth water. She went to pick up a cup, but her hand shook so much she opted to wait for a few minutes. I should have taken off my gloves when I first sat down. She will think I have no manners.
“So why do you want to go out West, Miss O’Calla
ghan? Haven’t you traveled far enough?” At Katie’s surprised look, her host smiled before adding, “Your Irish accent is too strong for you to have been reared in Boston.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am. Oh, I don’t really know what I mean.” If Katie had known any curse words, she would have used one silently now. She was making a fool of herself. Her host’s eyes twinkled with laughter, which didn’t help to ease Katie’s embarrassment.
“Katie—you don’t mind if I call you that do you?” Katie shook her head. “Good, I believe it suits you. Please try to relax. This meeting isn’t a test. There are no right or wrong answers. I want every girl I meet to be sure she is doing the right thing for her circumstances. I am not in the business of sending women out West who would sooner head back home to their own beautiful countries.”
Katie looked down at the luxurious carpet her feet had sunk into. How honest did the woman want her to be?
“No fear of that happening with me, ma’am. There is no home for me in Ireland. Not anymore.” Katie sat up straighter in the chair. “I want to go out west, ma’am. I want to build a new home for me and my—well, that is to say, any children God may see fit to provide me with.” Katie’s cheeks reddened further and she had to resist the urge to use her gloved hands to cover them.
“Why out west? Why not stay here in Boston? I assume you came over to family?”
Katie nodded. “My Uncle Joseph and his wife provide us—I mean me—with a home.” Katie corrected herself quickly and hoped Mrs. Gantley hadn’t noticed the slip. Now was not the time to mention she intended taking Ellen with her.
“I gather from your expression the living arrangements are not favorable.”
“No, ma’am. It isn’t that I am afraid of hard work or anything, but I want to be in charge of my own life. Not be a servant for anybody else, not even a member of my family.”
“That’s a sentiment I understand, but you know that in the eyes of the law your husband would be your master, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, Ma’am, but at least I would be mistress of my own home. I am a good cook. Not great, but I am learning how to prepare American food such as flapjacks. I have a lot of experience as a housekeeper and can make a floor shine so good you could see your face in it.” Katie stopped, hoping she didn’t sound like she was boasting. The look Mrs. Gantley gave her suggested she was pleased with what she was hearing. Katie smiled slightly before saying, “I would hope my husband was a kind man and together we would form a happy home. One where everyone was treated well.”
“What else would you like from the marriage?” asked Mrs. Gantley gently.
Katie looked down at her gloved hands. “I would like to have children. At least two, but more if possible. Back home, there were always children running around, and I miss it.” Katie pinched her wrist in an effort to distract her thoughts. She didn’t want to dwell on thoughts of what home had been like. That would only lead to tears.
Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward in her seat. “I would also like my husband to be able to provide for us.” At Mrs. Gantley’s raised eyebrows, Katie swallowed hard before continuing. “I don’t mean I want a rich man, but I am done with being dirt poor. If possible, I would like to marry someone with prospects. I will work hard, day and night, but I can only do that if there is some hope that my work will mean we have a secure future. Being financially secure is important.”
To her surprise, Mrs. Gantley rose and walked around her desk to put a hand on Katie’s shoulder.
“You are a very brave girl, Katie O’Callaghan. It took real courage to make a speech like that. I totally agree with your sentiments, which is why I make it a condition of any arrangement my girls enter into that their husband provide them with a home, at the very least. I have been responsible for arranging about forty matches since I started doing this five years ago. I am happy to say that thirty-eight of those have turned out well. The other two—well, I guess the less said about those the better.”
Katie was dying to ask what happened in the other two cases, but her nerve failed at the closed expression on Mrs. Gantley’s face.
“What happens now?” asked Katie after a few minutes of silence.
“I was just thinking about the three letters I have. I suggest you consider Mr. Cassidy. He mentions he has a ranch.” At Katie’s confused expression, Mrs. Gantley smiled and explained, “Think of it as a large farm. He will own horses and some cattle. There may be other animals as well, such as chickens, pigs, etc. At least you should never be hungry.”
Katie smiled, but couldn’t help wondering why, if he was wealthy, he needed a mail order bride. As if guessing her thoughts, Mrs. Gantley continued. “Men outnumber the women out west by about twenty to one. In some areas, that figure could be as high as fifty to one. You may have seen some cartoons in the paper suggesting that women are worth their weight in gold.”
Katie shook her head. She hadn’t had time to read newspapers but didn’t think her uncle would have cartoons in his reading material.
“The lack of decent women explains why even relatively well-off men have to send East for their brides. Of course, here in Boston, we appear to have the opposite problem. Quite a few women and not enough prospective husbands. Both my sons had to come home to find wives. That’s part of the reason why I set up Boston Brides. My husband would say the real reason is that I am an incurable romantic.”
Katie returned the woman’s warm smile, her heart filling with hope for the first time since she had left Ireland. This was her chance. She was sure of it. She watched Mrs. Gantley rustle through some papers on her desk before she found something and handed it over to Katie.
Before she took it, Katie cleared her throat.
“Mrs. Gantley, you haven’t said how much you charge for providing this service. I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. The men pay a small fee for my services. They also provide you with a train ticket and some offer to cover additional expenses you may incur, such as a wedding dress, etc.”
I could have done with knowing that a few days ago. It would have saved me a few nights of lost sleep. If Mr. Cassidy covers my train fare and the Boston Brides fee, I should have enough in savings to pay for Ellen’s ticket.
Katie smiled broadly as she took the letter. Imagine, my future husband wrote this.
All romantic notions she had entertained died as soon as she read the contents. It sounded as interesting as her shopping list for the store. Confused and more than slightly disappointed, she raised her head to find Mrs. Gantley looking at her with a gentle expression on her face.
“Remember, my dear, that these men are not schooled in the ways of courtship. You cannot expect them to act in a similar manner to those you read about in your romance books. They need some help to round off their rough edges. Some may need more assistance than others.”
Feeling ashamed for letting her romantic notions overtake the practical side, she came to a swift decision. “You are absolutely correct. I will take Mr. Cassidy if he finds me agreeable. What should I do now?”
“I would like you to think on it for a few days. There is no real rush.” Mrs. Gantley held her head to one side as if asking a question.
Katie ignored the curiosity in her eyes. She wanted to move as fast as possible, but that may make Mrs. Gantley suspicious. Fighting her desire to proceed immediately, she took a deep breath before saying. “Thank you. I feel certain I would like to proceed, but perhaps a day or two to think about it would be a good idea.”
Mrs. Gantley nodded in agreement. “Can you come back to see me in a few days? We can then write back to Mr. Cassidy, assuming you haven’t had a change of heart.”
Please don’t talk about changing my mind. I don’t want to start wondering if there is any other way. There isn’t and that’s all there is to it. She couldn’t live with the stress of living under Margaret’s roof for much longer and it wasn’t good for Ellen, either. This was the
best decision for both of them.
Katie stood, willing her body not to shake. She extended her hand.
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Gantley. I will call back to see you next Wednesday. I won’t be able to get out of the house before then other than for services on Sunday.”
“Maybe by then my new cook will have gotten used to the oven and we can have cookies with our coffee.” Mrs. Gantley laughed, the sound reminding Katie of tinkling bells.
If only it was just burnt cookies I had to worry about.
Chapter 9
“You are a good girl, you know. Pretty as a picture, too,” Nellie gave Katie a grateful look as she sat down. Their day had started at 6am and it was coming up on 11pm.
Katie was concerned. Nellie’s breathing was faster than usual. She didn’t know how old the cook was, but she must be at least fifty.
“Nellie, I think I should call a doctor.”
Nellie stood but a wave of dizziness made her sit back down. “I’ll be okay in a minute or two. I just been working a mite too hard lately.”
“That’s not it and you know it. You' been having trouble breathing for weeks now. You need to rest. Do you not have somewhere else to go? Could you not go live with your sister?”
“She’s asked me, but I don’t know if I could live with her. Two women in the same kitchen don’t work too good, in my experience. And anyways, if I left, you two would be all alone. You know she won’t hire a new cook if she knows you can make stuff as well as I do.”
“Nonsense, Nellie. Nobody can cook as well as you do. Never mind about us. We won’t be staying.”
Nellie sat up straighter. “You got something to tell me, Kathleen O’Callaghan?’
Katie gulped. She tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice, so she nodded.
Katie: Clover Springs Mail Order Brides Book 1 Page 3
