“No. Well, I’m twenty-eight years old, so I don’t want a man who is too young, not old, either,” she added quickly. “Respectable, God fearing. He doesn’t have to be rich, only comfortable enough to support a wife.”
Mrs. Vernon lifted her head from writing down the information Clemmie had given her. “Are you in a hurry to find a husband?”
“Yes, I am. I’m living on my savings.”
“Well, that does narrow the field a little.”
“Any particular location?”
“No, um, at least a hundred miles away from here. I want to start afresh well away from New Orleans. Too many bitter memories here for me now.”
“I understand your humiliation and despair, my dear. I was left standing at the altar by my intended.”
Clemmie gasped.
“I survived, married another man who gave me a good life. He left me comfortably off. I decided to open this bureau to give me an interest and to help young woman find themselves a good man. I know exactly how you feel, Clementine.”
“Clemmie, please.” If she never heard the name Clementine again in her lifetime she would be happy, because that is what Harold had always called her.
“Humiliated, wronged and angry.”
“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel, Mrs. Vernon. Betrayed as well.”
“I think the feeling of betrayal is hardest of all to cope with.”
“It is.”
“I’ve got a file of men who have written to me. I also have some names from an acquaintance, a lady who is in the same business, shall we say. We do swap information on occasions. Gives us a broader field to work from. Would you be interested in a banker from Charleston?”
“No.”
“An attorney from New York?”
She shook her head.
A letter did come in from a fellow match maker. A rather strange letter. It contained no references, only the name of the local preacher. My friend has a contact who lives in the area and he made discrete enquiries. It seems the man has a good reputation and is who he says he is. New York is a long way from Texas, so my friend knew it would be hard to find him a good match from there.”
Dear Marriage Bureau Person,
My name is Ethan Douglas. I own a ranch near Guilford Crossing, Texas. I am looking for a wife. I don’t have time to court a woman, but I do want a wife. I am thirty five years old. I have never been married but I nearly was once, but she let me down.
The lady must be pretty and kind hearted. It doesn’t matter if she can’t cook as I have a housekeeper. She must like children as I have my brother’s ten year old daughter living with me. She must be strong and tall.
Please find me a suitable person and the matter is urgent. Just let me know when you are coming and I will meet you at the Guilford Crossing Stage Depot.
Send your reply to Jessica Douglas at Guilford Crossing general store.
It does seem a bit strange, the writing is well, childish,” Clemmie said, gnawing her lower lip. “At least he’s honest enough to say he doesn’t have time to court a woman.”
“Many of these ranchers wouldn’t have had time for much schooling,” Mrs. Vernon said.
“I’ll take him,” she recklessly volunteered. If she got to Guilford Crossing and didn’t like the looks of the man, she would refuse to go with him. After all he hadn’t offered to pay her fare.
“Are you sure, my dear? Maybe you should think it over.”
“No, I’ve made up my mind. He has a housekeeper and a ten year old niece, so it’s not as if I’ll be going to some place with no-one except him. Of course, he could be lying, but why would he?”
“Maybe wait a while, there are letters coming in all the time. There are a lot of lonely men out here.”
“Time is not on my side, Mrs. Vernon. I need to get out of New Orleans as soon as I can.”
The woman gave her a questioning look.
“I’m not running from the law.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I feel so humiliated, I’m afraid to be seen by anyone. I couldn’t bear the pitying looks, the whispers about what I might have done to cause H….Horace to discard me. The stigma attached to being left an old maid.” She suddenly stopped herself from saying too much. She feared telling the woman the whole truth in case she wouldn’t help her get away.
“I know.” Mrs. Vernon patted her hand. “You feel like cringing every time you see one of your friends or acquaintances.”
“Yes, yes, exactly.”
“All right, I’ll give you the letter; be careful my dear, you don’t want to be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Thank you, Mrs. Vernon.” She stood to take her leave.
“Please let me know how you get on.”
“I will.”
“If it doesn’t work out….”
“You can get me another man.”
With the letter safely tucked into her reticule, she departed and headed for the railway station to book a ticket to Guilford Crossing before she changed her mind.
****
Back at her room in the lodging house, Clemmie wrote her letter to Mr. Ethan Douglas, deciding to send it to Jessica Douglas as requested. She was obviously a relative.
Dear Mr. Douglas,
My name is Clementine Trotman. I think I have all the attributes you are looking for in a wife.
I am twenty-eight years old, and like you I have been disappointed and betrayed, in my case, by the actions of the man I was betrothed to. Because of the humiliation, I feel I cannot remain in New Orleans.
I am five feet six inches in height with black hair, blue eyes and fair complexion.
I am an honest, hard-working Christian woman. I am taking you at your word that you are the same. I will be arriving at Guilford Crossing on the stage at approximately 2 o’clock on the 15th November.
I need to be honest with you Mr. Douglas. I cannot in all good conscience move out to your ranch until after we are wed. I have the funds to stay at a hotel until that time.
I trust you will not let me down.
I am yours sincerely,
Clementine Trotman
She read through it, not completely satisfied with it, but couldn’t think of any other way to improve it. She had been honest and laid all her cards on the table.
If he didn’t turn up at the stage depot, she had enough funds and was resourceful enough to come up with something else. Maybe journey on to Austin. The Texas Rangers had their headquarters there, and they would have single men working for them. Maybe one of them would want a wife.
On the other hand, if she could get a job there, she wouldn’t need to marry some unknown, desperate rancher. She hesitated with the letter in her hand. The uncertainty of Austin had her folding it up and addressing it to this Jessica person and sealing it.
She needed a name change quickly, to feel safe. She was acting foolishly, and deep down knew it, yet it would be even more foolish to take the risk of Harold not wanting to get rid of her – permanently.
Chapter Three
“How could you do such a thing?” Ethan shouted as he stomped up and down the sitting room of the Crossed T ranch.
Jessie sat in her wheelchair staring at him with tear filled eyes.
“I did it to help you, Uncle Ethan.”
“Help me? I don’t want to marry some desperate spinster from New Orleans.”
I don’t want to marry any treacherous damn woman.
“You’ll have to write back to this Clementine person and tell her it was a mistake. I don’t want a wife.”
“But you do, Uncle Ethan, you said you did.”
“When?” He tried to rein in his temper. Didn’t little Jessie have enough to put up with? Ten years old and confined to a wheelchair. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I shouldn’t have shouted at you. This is a bad thing you did, not only for me, also for this lady who is traveling all this way convinced she is getting herself a husband.
“Clementine sounds nice
. Why can’t you marry her?”
“Because I don’t know the woman. She could be a hag, a criminal, anything.”
“Worse than Mary-Lou?”
The barb hit him straight in the gut. Spoilt, selfish, conniving Mary-Lou who had been trying to sink her claws into him for the last few months. Any man fool enough to marry her would be letting himself in for a life of misery.
Since the age of about sixteen she had used her stunning beauty to ensnare men including him. She had left him standing like a fool in front of the preacher and a church full of wedding guests, because she had run off with some fancy Boston man.
He shuddered at the memory of the humiliation and devastation he had felt at the time. Eight months ago her marriage had broken down and she wanted him to help her pick up the pieces. He had learned his lesson the hard way. No woman would ever get close to him again, particularly not her.
“Uncle Ethan.”
“What?” A Mail Order Bride, where in tarnation had Jess came up with such a fool idea?
He was finding it harder and harder to wriggle out of the situation with Mary-Lou. Her father, Chuck, was the bank manager in town and a powerful man. He had a lot of influence and was a bad man to fall out with. His only child Mary-Lou was the apple of her father’s eye, and he believed she was an angel instead of the manipulative, devious woman she really was. Just thinking about her made his head ache.
“Clementine is coming on the stage tomorrow, Uncle Ethan.”
“Tomorrow!” His day had started out bad, having run into Mary-Lou in town, and it was getting worse by the minute. Some strange woman, probably as ugly as a dime’s worth of dog meat, was arriving tomorrow expecting to marry him.
He snapped his fingers. If he married this Clementine person who sounded so desperate she would make few demands on him. It would keep Mary-Lou off his back and she would look elsewhere for a husband.
A marriage in name only then a discrete annulment a few months down the track when Mary-Lou was the responsibility of another man. It could work.
This woman would be company for Jessie as Agnes was getting too old to manage the child now. Sadness filled his heart thinking about his poor little niece. Fancy a ten year old watching her parents die when their boat capsized? No wonder she had suffered mental damage that had caused paralysis of her legs.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you, darlin’.” He squatted down beside her chair.
“I only wanted to find you a wife.” Tears poured down her cheeks. “I wanted to save you from Mary-Lou. She’s mean and horrible.”
“I know, darlin’.” Jessie was only a child yet she had an adult head on her shoulders sometimes. She looked so like her father with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He still couldn’t believe his younger brother was dead. When Lucy and Bradley had drowned, the shock had killed their father, no one would ever convince him otherwise.
“Can I come with you to meet Clementine?”
“Of course.” He forced a smile. “If you don’t approve of her the marriage is off. Okay?”
How could he explain Clementine’s sudden appearance to everyone? He didn’t want people to know she was a Mail Order Bride. It made him sound desperate. Truth be known, he didn’t want to get married at all.
That would be one of the two conditions he would put to this Clementine woman. A marriage in name only, yet everyone else had to think it was a love match. After Mary-Lou married someone else, and knowing her as he did, who would know better than me what she’s like he thought bitterly, her vanity would not allow her to remain without a husband for too long.
“Uncle Ethan.”
“Sorry, did you say something?”
“If Clementine comes from New Orleans maybe she’s French.”
He shrugged. “Trotman isn’t a French name, still, would it matter if she was?”
“No, as long as she’s pretty. When you marry her, I’ll have an aunt.”
“So you will, darlin’.” He only hoped she wasn’t too ugly, a man had his pride after all and he didn’t want to be seen with a hag.
“Black hair and blue eyes sound nice.” Who was she trying to convince, herself or him?
Five feet six inches tall, she’d about reach his shoulder. The Douglas men had always been tall. Ma had only been five feet two inches in height, and Jessie’s mother, well, Lucy had barely reached five feet. His mind was in such a jumble he was thinking crazy thoughts.
“Can we play chess, Uncle Ethan?”
“After supper maybe.” He had planned on doing bookwork, but knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, not with the turmoil and worry of meeting this woman.
For Jessie’s sake he hoped she was decent and friendly. If she turned out to be a nasty hag, he would pay her to leave Guilford Crossing and take his chances on staying out of Mary-Lou’s clutches.
He couldn’t believe how blind to her shortcomings Mary-Lou’s father, Chuck was. When Mary-Lou had left him standing in the church Chuck had given him scant sympathy, instead blamed him for not being man enough for his daughter to marry.
“I wonder what Agnes is cooking us for supper?”
“A roast,” Jessie said. “I helped peel the potatoes.”
Agnes was a good cook, and often used recipes from her English mother, giving them more variety than most housekeepers. “That was nice of you to help her.”
“She’s getting too old to look after me.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard her talking to Jack about it. Is it true? What will I do? I don’t want to go to that cripples’ home Mary-Lou told me about.”
“What cripples’ home?”
“Where people send little girls like me who can’t walk.”
“You aren’t going anywhere, darlin’. When Agnes gets too old, I’ll find someone else to help you, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Promise?”
“Of course I promise, anyway you’ll have this Clementine lady to help out.”
“She mightn’t like a useless cripple.”
“You’re not a useless cripple?” Rage surged through him until it reached boiling point. He could almost feel the smoke coming out his ears. This was just the kind of horrible thing Mary-Lou would say.
“You should have told me. Mary-Lou is a cruel person, don’t take any notice of her. If I could get hold of her right now, I’d ring her neck.”
****
Clermmie stepped off the stage at Guilford Crossing feeling tired and scruffy. Glancing around her heart rose into her mouth. No-one was waiting for her. Enviously she watched her fellow travelers climb down from the coach to be rapturously received by their family.
“Will I put your trunk on the porch, Miss?” The coach driver asked. “Are you sure you’re being met?”
“Thank you, I’ll be all right.”
“If you’re still here when I come back in an hour or so, I’ll take you into town. Don’t wait out on the porch for too long. Barney in the office will give you a coffee.”
“Thank you for your kindness.” She spoke with more confidence than she felt. Should she ask him if he knew Ethan Douglas? No, better not in case he didn’t show up.
She regretted wearing one of her best gowns. It looked like a crumpled rag now. The matching shawl hadn’t fared much better.
What kind of man would write away requesting a bride and simply not turn up to collect her? The sun was shining, but it didn’t give out a great deal of warmth. What did you expect you foolish woman, with winter almost upon them?
On the verge of going inside to introduce herself to Barney and his coffee, she spotted a buckboard coming. It pulled up right next to her and a tall man jumped down. A pretty little girl of about ten or so sat on the seat with a blanket covering her knees.
“Clementine Trotman?” The man swept off his hat.
“Yes.”
“I’m Ethan Douglas.” He stared at her from smoky grey eyes. His expression was one of surprise.
&
nbsp; “Have I come as a shock?”
“Um, yeah.”
“I suppose you expected some desperate, plain, downtrodden woman?”
He grinned. “I didn’t know what to expect to be honest.”
“You’re not what I expected, either.” She gave a hesitant smile. “I thought you might be an ugly runt of a man.”
Her burst out laughing and it was a nice sound.
“Uncle Ethan, Uncle Ethan. Is that her?”
Clemmie smiled at the little girl. She was a pretty child with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.
“You’re Clementine?”
“Yes, but you can call me Clemmie. Weren’t I what you expected?”
“No, you’re pretty. Uncle Ethan said you’d probably be as ugly as a dimes worth of dog meat.”
Clemmie laughed. “That does sound ugly.”
The child giggled. “I’m Jessica, but you can call me Jessie.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Jessie. I know we’re going to be good friends.
“Well, now we’re all introduced. Is this all your luggage, Miss Trotman?”
“Clemmie.”
“Okay, Clemmie it is. Call me Ethan. No point being formal if we’re going to be joined in Holy Matrimony.” A slight sneer edged his voice.
“Yes, I decided to travel light.”
He picked up her trunk and dumped it in the back of the buckboard. Swinging around, he lifted her up and deposited her on the outside of Jessie.”
“Just a minute, before we go any further. Where are you taking me?”
“To my ranch.”
“No. I don’t think that would be appropriate. I said in my letter….”
“Damn your letter. I have a live-in housekeeper and Jessie lives with me, so you are in no moral danger.”
“You said in your letter….”
“I didn’t write the letter,” he interrupted her.
If she hadn’t been seated her legs would have collapsed under her. “You said you were Ethan Douglas.”
“I am, I just didn’t write the letter.”
She was sure her mouth opened and shut like a stranded fish.
“I wrote the letter,” Jessie said, grabbing Clemmie’s hand.
“Oh?”
“I shouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t want Uncle Ethan to get married to Mary-Lou.”
A Niece for Christmas Page 2
