Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  “I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a spot,” Julia admitted to her friend. “Since moving in here, I had lost my old apartment in the city. I thought I might have enough time to get a new one, but my search has been fruitless.” She shook her head with a sigh of dejection. “My uncle is kind enough to offer me shelter, for a time.”

  Perhaps it was the way Julia said “kind” or maybe it was simply the situation all itself, but Cora frowned and began to shake her head. “No, no. That simply won’t do at all.” Snapping her fingers to get Mr. Taylor’s attention, she said to him, “Tell the driver to go ahead. We won’t be needing his assistance.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Bewildered, Julia didn’t even get the chance to tell Mr. Taylor not to do that before he was running out to the driver. Whirling back on Cora in disbelief, she said, “Now why would you do that! I must leave soon or I’ll miss my train!”

  “You’re not taking the train,” Cora told her, linking their arms together and steering her towards a back room. “You’re staying with me and Christian until such time as you have found a suitable new living arrangement.”

  “I can’t do that!” Julia protested; she didn’t enjoy receiving charity.

  Cora ignored her and continued. “I’ll help you to find a new apartment—or even better, a husband!”

  ****

  Christian was making small talk with Mary’s husband Charles in the other room, likely sipping brandy, leaving the women alone in the sitting room. Mary, Cora’s sister and the late Marcus’s mother, was dressed all in black, much like Cora, and held a teacup in her delicate hands, though she hadn’t taken a sip from it in a long while. Julia was there only by the grace and goodness of Cora, who had insisted she stay, despite Julia’s reluctance. They had written to her uncle and explained that Julia would not be taking advantage of his generosity at this time, leaving her free to pursue other avenues.

  That was the topic of discussion that night: other avenues.

  “I think it’s a brilliant idea!” Cora exclaimed, beaming so that she looked almost comical in her mourning attire. It was at odds with everything else at the moment, but a smile was a welcome change at the very least.

  Julia shook her head. She was wearing black as well, though it was hardly required, but it was of a much plainer thread and design than that of the other women. They came from families of wealth and married into similar families; Julia was middle class at best.

  “I really don’t know, Miss Cora,” Julia replied hesitantly. She didn’t want to upset her generous hostess, but at the same time she couldn’t help but balk at her suggestion. “So many of those listings are by con men.”

  Cora waved her off. “Nonsense. I found my husband through a Matrimonial ad!”

  “Cora, really,” Mary interrupted, sounding bored instead of grief-stricken as she should have been. “I hardly think your marriage is the flame by which all candles should be compared.”

  Cora sent her a rueful look, wagging her finger at her sister. “Now you see here, Mary! Christian has been a wonderful husband and I am quite happy to have found him! What more should I expect from a marriage?”

  “Stability? A man who is less eager for travel and more eager for making contacts and acquaintances that will further the family’s worth?”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous! That’s what your marriage is for.”

  The women continued to argue for a while longer, but Julia was hardly paying attention. She was giving Cora’s suggestion some very serious thought and was beginning to think that perhaps it wasn’t so ludicrous as she initially thought. Although she doubted that she would be so lucky as to find a man that she loved as Cora had, there was a good chance that she might find a man who could take care of her.

  She was still mulling it over in her mind, but the idea was planted like a seed and she wasn’t ready to dismiss it just yet.

  “Miss Cora, how might I go about finding a match?”

  The two women stopped arguing abruptly and Cora smiled broadly at her friend; her sister rolled her eyes in boredom.

  ****

  Julia felt a little foolish to be searching the newspaper for something that should have been such a personal thing. Ever since she was a girl, she had dreamed of the day she might marry a handsome young man who would spend the rest of his days devoted to her. Of course, as she had grown older and seen even a fraction of the horrors that war provided, she grew to understand that she had been a little naïve for such hopes. Even so, she’d kept them snuggled away in her heart, protected and coveted until the day she might marry.

  The newspaper felt incredibly impersonal to Julia; she didn’t care for the idea of finding her husband before ever meeting him. But there was Cora, along with many other young women, who had done just this and ended up incredibly happy. Julia wasn’t sure if she could be so lucky, but as she stared at the paper settled on the table in front of her, she determined that perhaps it was worth a shot after all. Besides, the alternative was even less inviting than the idea of marrying a stranger. Biting her lip, Julia had managed to talk herself into the endeavor all over again. Anything was better than her uncle's house, wasn’t it?

  Scooping up the paper, she opened it up to the section that contained the personal ads. There were several different kinds, many calling for maids, cooks, or tutors—she was nearly sidetracked by these, thinking perhaps they were more reasonable—but on the second page, she found what she was looking for. Matrimonials.

  Her eyes landed on the first one and read through it quickly.

  MATRIMONIAL – Fifty-three-year-old wealthy bachelor in search of young country girl. Must have no education and a base nature. Easily teachable in the ways, duties, and expectations of a woman.

  Julia’s eyes went wide and she couldn’t help the sudden shudder than ran through her. Perhaps she was merely misinterpreting the thing, but she couldn’t help but feel as though the ad was calling for a young girl to turn towards prostitution! A base nature indeed! The ad all but begged for an innocent youth with the promise of corrupting her. It was grotesque enough that Julia nearly gave up her search after it had only just begun, determining that she wanted no part of such debauchery.

  But after a steadying breath, she carefully convinced herself that she had misread the ad’s meaning—and she promptly went on to the next one—searching once more for something suitable to herself.

  The next one seemed far less offensive and worrisome to her delicate sensibilities.

  MATRIMONIAL – Thirty-eight-year-old homesteader in search of a marriageable woman between the ages of sixteen and forty. Must be able to cook, clean, and milk a cow. Must also be wealthy in her own right. I request no poor women respond.

  Julia sighed as she read the last part. She had little doubt that she could learn to milk a cow as the ad requested, but she was most certainly not independently wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. This was the type of ad Cora might respond to as she had the money to do as she pleased with or without the assistance of outside funds. Though, to be honest, Julia had to laugh at the idea of Cora milking a cow or anything of the like, perhaps on some large cattle ranch out West, working and cleaning for a prospector in search of gold. It was as ridiculous as it was improbable. Cora wasn’t the type to do her own labor if she could help it; she had the money that she could help it.

  Still smiling, Julia moved on to the next ad; she was without much hope, but was still willing to try.

  MATRIMONIAL – Thirty-year-old widower in search of respectable young woman in regards to marriage. Must be family oriented and will to help raise a young boy of an inquisitive and adventurous nature. Please do not respond idly.

  Julia stared at that one a long while. It was very perfunctory and to the point. There was no passion to it; there was no intrigue. But she felt compelled to read it again and again, maybe even a dozen times. She didn’t know what drew her to it, but she got up to retrieve a piece of paper and an envelope quickly from the drawing room. Th
ere was an address listed just below the ad and before she had even truly decided to do it, she had scribbled it down on the back of the envelope. Putting it and the newspaper aside, she pulled the paper to her.

  ‘To the Concerned Party,’ she wrote, realizing that there was no name listed in the ad. Pressing forward anyway, she scribbled a very brief letter denoting her interest in his posting.

  I have experience in tending to young children and as of yet am unmarried. In the interest of honesty, I must also confess that I have little money of my own. If my response is undesirable, please send a brief reply to dismiss my interest.

  She signed her name easily and folded up the letter, quickly stuffing it inside the envelope before she could reconsider her perhaps foolish reply. The next day she would mail it, she promised herself, and in the meantime, she would continue to search the papers for similar ads. She had decided that this was the best way after all and she wanted additional options should this one fall through. It wasn’t for love; this was all business now.

  ****

  It was nearly three weeks since Julia had sent out her letter. So much time had passed that she had decided that she wasn’t going to get an answer at all from that first ad she responded to. Since then, she had mailed off a dozen letters, and there were more still that she was sifting through carefully in hopes of making a smart match for herself. She was attempting to move as quickly as possible, hoping that she might find a suitable ad with a suitable husband at the other end of it.

  Cora and her husband had put off their trip to New York; Julia knew it was because of her. Mary and her husband were quickly growing irate with Julia’s continued presence, though she did her very best to stay out of their way. Mary would send her dirty glances and then when she was caught, would turn up her nose and whisper to whomsoever might be in the room, “She is a reminder of my poor son! Haven’t I suffered enough already?” When her sister was in the room, she would hiss it at her maliciously and the fight would begin as it inevitably always did.

  All of this made Julia search more earnestly for a means of leaving this place. She was fond of Cora’s friendship and hoped that they might stay friends whatever her future might hold, but she had no desire to remain in the cold mansion.

  Cora was the type of woman who would never insist that Julia leave; she was a guest here. But Julia was growing uneasy about the whole thing as time pressed on and urgency began to nag at her. It didn’t help that the house reminded her so much of dear Marcus. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but his death had left a swell of grief to fill her heart and it slowly ate away at her.

  Just as Julia was preparing another letter inquiring to an ad—this one more of a governess position than anything else—a letter came for her. It was longer than the one she had written to begin with, but the scrawl was quick and deliberate all the same.

  Miss Julia,

  Your reply is welcome. I encourage you to join me in Montana. I shall pay for your ticket; it is enclosed below. Perhaps that is presumptuous on my part, but I am an impatient man and have no desire to wait. Should you still wish to answer my ad, I ask only that you use the ticket provided as I require no answering letter be it yes or no. But I must also ask you to finish reading this letter before you make your decision.

  I have placed this ad for the sake of my eight-year-old son. His mother—God rest her sweet soul—has passed on and I worry about his development as a young lad. Grief has stricken him quite strongly. He needs a mother and to that end, I placed this ad. I am not searching for a personal companion or for love; I have had these things already. To ask for them again would be selfish.

  If you are in search of love, I must ask that you reconsider your interest to protect your assumed gentle heart.

  I make this promise to you, should you choose to venture to my Montana home anyway: I will always take care of you. I will provide for you. You shall want for nothing. But I cannot give you love, not as a man loves his wife. Perhaps we might come to an arrangement of mutual sympathies and friendship, but even that I cannot promise.

  I shall look for you on the train. If you are not there, then I must assume that these terms are not agreeable or suitable to your long-term goals and that I have scared you off.

  Best,

  Wyatt Baroque

  Julia stared at the letter for a long time. The penmanship was quite beautiful; elegant loops and fluid lines covered the page. The letter was rather unflattering and was clearly meant to be firm, strict, and perhaps even unwelcoming, Julia thought. But it didn’t leave her with that sentiment at all. She felt no menace from his words; she felt only grief. Perhaps it was her own quiet despair over Marcus’s death; maybe it was the pressure she felt to leave. Either way, Mr. Baroque’s letter left her only with a profound sense of sadness.

  She couldn’t be sure, but Julia felt that this was what reinforced her own resolve. She would go to him and perhaps there, she could forget the death that hovered so near to her own heart.

  ****

  Cora escorted Julia to the train station. She insisted on paying for the carriage, since the ticket for the train was already covered by Julia’s wealthy husband to be.

  “That’s an excellent sign!” Cora explained brightly. “The hustlers and the rakes are always insisting that you send them money. If he’s already paying your way to him, it must mean that he has money!”

  Julia nodded. She was being quiet, even more so than usual today. Her nerves had started to get the better of her, leaving her with a sense of dread and foreboding. She had committed to this decision and she stood by that even now, but it did nothing to ease her apprehension. The man had made it clear that this was not for the purpose of love. Could Julia live with that?

  She had, of course, decided that she could and thus had made her way to the train station in order to meet him, but part of her was still wistful for that girlhood dream of romance and love. Still, an arrangement of convenience wasn’t something she could afford to turn her nose down to.

  “Oh, he must be crazy about you!” Cora gushed, motioning for the young man who had come with the carriage driver to follow them. He was carrying Julia’s bag for her; she was grateful all of a sudden that she had so little to call her own. “You must write quite a letter! It took at least a dozen correspondences, three letters to my parents, and one awful dinner with my sister before Christian and I made such a connection.”

  Julia hadn’t explained the situation to her friend, fearing that she might disapprove and attempt to talk Julia out of it. She couldn’t afford something like that and she was unwilling to allow Cora to delay her own plans for the sake of Julia’s misfortune. After all, Cora wanted to leave that mansion, perhaps just as badly as Julia did, and the only thing preventing her from making the trip to New York with her husband was that Julia was as of yet unsettled.

  How could she worry her dear friend then after all she had done for her? And besides, Julia didn’t feel that Mr. Baroque was a dangerous man. He merely seemed overly practical and perhaps a little shrewd. The type of man that broached no rebellion or discord from those around him. That didn’t make him a bad man, though it would likely make him difficult to live with. And in his letter, though he could not promise her love, he did say there was the possibility for friendship to blossom. Surely that was enough of a reason for Julia to push forward.

  She doubted very much she would find anything better.

  “You didn’t tell me his name,” Cora chided as they headed along the station. The train wasn’t yet boarding so they had a few minutes still before they would have to part.

  “Mr. Wyatt Baroque,” Julia answered in a small voice, trying to hide her apprehension.

  She needn’t have worried, of course, because Cora was too excited over the whole thing to be worried with the minute details of Julia’s person.

  “Ooh, that is a nice name,” Cora said, eyes glittering. “It has the strength of the West, but the culture of the East! I’m sure you’ve won your
self quite a prize.”

  Julia smiled at her friend and nodded. “I think you are right.” It was a bit of a lie, but Julia hoped that maybe it would be true when she arrived.

  If nothing else, I shall be forever taken care of, Julia thought, trying to remember her reasoning for accepting his decisively quick offer.

  “Of course I am!” Cora told her quickly. The whistle sounded loudly and the man at the entrance to the train called for all passengers to board. Cora escorted Julia the rest of the way, speaking urgently. “Now, be sure that you write me as soon as you arrive there in Montana. If your wedding date is to be set for later, please, send word and I shall make sure that both myself and Christian shall attend. My sister, thankfully, will not of course. Now, should the wedding be immediate, of course it is highly unlikely that I shall have the time to make arrangements to attend. Oh, perhaps I should just come with you now!”

  Cora had been toying with the idea of escorting Julia to Montana since she learned that Julia had indeed found herself a suitable match. Julia, of course, had talked her out of it half a dozen times already. How would she explain that to Mr. Baroque? How would she explain the situation to Cora once they arrived? No, it simply would not do to have Cora come with her, although she would in a sense be a comfort to have with her on the journey. She was traveling to an entirely new place in what many still referred to as the Wild West. Having a companion who had her interests at heart would bring her at least some peace of mind, but Julia simply couldn’t accept the cost of that.