Emma: Bride of Kentucky (American Mail-Order Bride 15)

by Peggy L Henderson

  Emma: Bride of Kentucky

  American Mail-Order Brides, Book 15

  Peggy L Henderson

  Contents

  Copyright

  Introduction

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

  Copyright © 2015 by Peggy L Henderson

  All rights reserved

  Introduction

  Emma: Bride of Kentucky is fifteenth in the unprecedented 50-book American Mail-Order Brides series.

  Forty-five authors come together to bring readers a new series of epic proportions. On fifty consecutive days beginning November 19, 2015, a romance, featuring a mail-order bride, will be published--one set in each of the fifty states. The books will be released in the order the states were admitted to the union. The stories all take place in 1890, following a day when a factory in the East burns to the ground, leaving these women unemployed and forced to choose mail-order marriages for survival. Share the experiences of these brides as they seek love and new lives across the United States.

  Emma Waterston is determined, headstrong, and comes from a lifestyle where class structure determines one’s associations. Left destitute after the death of her mother, she takes a job at a textile factory. When a fire destroys her place of employment, leaving her penniless again, she makes a desperate decision and answers an ad for a mail order bride from a wealthy Kentucky horse breeder.

  Sam Hawley is content with his life as a horse trainer on an affluent Kentucky estate. His primary focus has always been on the horses. He views their owners as rich people with nothing to do but flaunt their money. Loyalty to his mentor is the only thing that keeps him rooted to one place. When he meets the bride-to-be of the man he detests the most, his life is about to change.

  Too late, Emma discovers the ad she answered was too good to be true. Her future husband is not what she was led to believe and a horrific experience leaves her no choice but to face the kind of life she’s been trying to escape. Kentucky was supposed to promise a return to her life of wealth. What she finds instead will redefine her definition of being rich.

  Chapter One

  Lawrence, Massachusetts, March 1891

  Emma Waterston pushed the door shut with more force than necessary. A cold blast of air still managed to rush into the small room of her apartment. A shiver raced down her spine. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, and pulled her shawl more firmly around herself. The footfalls down the hall outside grew faint.

  Alone again after her cousin, Rose Winchester, had left in such a hurry, Emma sighed and moved across the room. She placed another log in the small pot-bellied stove that stood in the corner. It didn’t take much to draw out the warmth in the place, especially on a cold March day such as today. She wearily eyed the dwindling pile of firewood. Fuel was costly, and her savings were soon depleted, as much as she hated to admit it.

  “Time to sell off a few more gowns,” she mumbled. She barely had any decent clothes left.

  Her eyes drifted to the front door again. Maybe her cousin had the right idea, after all. Rose was on her way to post a letter to a stranger in Colorado, agreeing to become his wife. Another shiver passed down Emma’s spine. Had it really come to this for the both of them? Becoming some man’s mail order bride was one of the most detestable thoughts that could ever enter her mind.

  Then again, their friends, Gillian and Willow, had gone off to marry men they’d never met before, and both of them seemed happy with their lot in life. Emma rubbed at her arms more vigorously in an effort to dispel the unsettling tingles, as if a man had touched her. Only a destitute woman without any other recourse would even consider such a vile notion, and go off to some unknown part of the country to marry a complete stranger. Why, there was only one thing worse, in her opinion.

  You are destitute, Emma Waterston.

  Even more destitute than when she’d agreed to apply for work as a seamstress at the textile factory at her friend, Gillian’s suggestion. She’d swallowed her pride at the time and accepted the position, as a means to stay off the streets. At least it had been slightly better than taking a job as a scullery maid.

  She drew in a deep breath and glanced around the sparsely furnished room of the apartment she shared with her cousin from her mother’s side of the family. It was only the two of them now. The financial burden had been slightly easier to bear when Willow and Gillian had still lived with them. Several months had already gone by since the two women had left to begin their new lives, and the money was dwindling quickly.

  Anger welled up inside Emma. Less than a year ago, she’d still lived in her mother’s expansive Beacon Hills home. She’d had servants, the finest clothes money could buy, and not a care in the world. Suitors lined the front door, hoping for her favors. Now, she was one step away from being homeless and begging in the street.

  Emma scoffed. Men. Because of her father, she knew their games too well. She’d flirted with would-be suitors over afternoon tea, had allowed them to take her to social events, even lavish her with gifts, but not one of them sparked even the slightest interest in her. Not that she’d ever planned to marry any of them. They’d only come to call on her because of her wealth, just like her father had only been interested in her mother for her money. When the funds had dried up, so had Emma’s callers.

  A fire had burned down her place of employment, and she hadn’t been able to secure another suitable position to make ends meet. Not that she’d really been looking. Working for someone as a maid, or cook, or taking care of children was not something she fancied herself doing. The seamstress job in the factory had been bad enough, but it had kept a roof over her head and food in her belly.

  The fire at the factory had happened nearly six months ago. Many women had lost their jobs, including Rose, Gillian, and their friend, Willow. Finding work in Lawrence or Boston was hard enough, even without that tragedy. One by one, the ladies had started looking for other means to support themselves, and finding husbands seemed to be one of the most lucrative ways of staying off the street.

  Emma’s eyes darted to the paper lying on the table. It had fluttered in the breeze created by the open door when Rose left, as if beckoning to her.

  The Grooms’ Gazette

  Rose had been more than eager to show her the paper just a short while ago. Obviously, her cousin was getting desperate, since she was on her way to post a letter in answer to an ad in that paper.

  Emma took a slow step toward the table and leaned forward. What harm could there be to just take a quick peek, and see what kind of men advertised for wives? She picked the paper up between her thumb and index finger, as if it was dirty, or the men whose ads populated the page would reach out and touch her.

  She shook off the silly notion, took a sea
t on one of the two bare chairs in the room, and scanned the pages. Her forehead wrinkled as her eyes scrolled down the line of ads.

  “Considered handsome by his friends,” Emma read out loud, and scoffed. “Most likely he is bald and has a pot belly,” she grumbled, and continued to read. “It is desirable that she should have considerable money.” This time, she laughed out loud. That sounded like her father, looking for a wealthy woman to take care of him and his habits.

  The longer she read, the more dismayed she became. She came across the ad Rose had shown her about the rancher in Colorado. That ad seemed to be the only decent one out of all of them. Disgruntled, she was about to fold the paper and set it aside, when her eye caught the words man of great wealth. She held the paper in front of her face, and her heart sped up.

  Man of great wealth, successful Kentucky horse breeder, twenty-six years of age, seeks young lady of good upbringing, possessing social graces and poise, for potential matrimony. Will have the best of everything, and want for nothing.

  Emma read the ad several times. It looked too good to be true. Will have the best of everything and want for nothing. Wasn’t that the kind of life she’d had before? The kind of life she longed to have again? Her father had taken advantage of her mother’s wealth. Past suitors had only been interested when they’d thought she had lots of money. Would it be so bad to consider marriage to someone for the same reasons?

  Emma rushed to the desk across the room and pulled open one of the drawers. She removed a sheet of paper and dipped her quill into the ink well. She held the tip to the paper. Her hand trembled slightly, making her writing look worse than it was. Rose should be here to draft the letter. Her penmanship was beautiful.

  She’d barely written the first word, when she paused. Yes, she’d ask Rose to write her letter to Mr. David Benton in Kentucky. A beautifully written letter would make a good first impression.

  With a satisfied smile, she dipped the quill into the ink again and addressed the letter to her friends and former roommates, instead.

  Dearest Willow and Gillian,

  I hope this letter finds you well and settled into your new lives. Rose and I are still in Lawrence, and we’re managing. Neither one of us has found a new position, yet, and my funds are starting to run low. I’ve been forced to sell some of my better dresses, and I’m afraid I’ll be wearing rags soon, if things do not improve. I believe Rose has followed your example, and has been corresponding with a gentleman in, dare I say it, Colorado. That seems like a world away. I can’t imagine travelling so far away, and for what?

  I know I’ve always maintained that I would not consider marriage to anyone except the most affluent suitor, but due to my circumstance, I’ve been excluded from Boston’s better social circles. I hesitate to say, but I’m considering following your leads, and looking for a potential husband through the Grooms’ Gazette. In fact, there was an advertisement that looks promising, and I’m considering writing to the gentleman. He is a horse breeder in Kentucky, and sounds rather wealthy. He appears to be just the type of man for whom I am looking.

  This brings me to a question I would like to ask, if I may. If you would be so kind and could offer some advice, since you have both become mail order brides, I’d be most appreciative. I must say, the idea is rather distasteful to me, but you both seem to have found happiness. I shall be awaiting your replies most anxiously.

  Yours truly,

  Emma

  Emma copied the letter, then sealed them and addressed one to each of her friends. Willow was now living in Pennsylvania, and Gillian was the wife of a lighthouse keeper in Maine. She shook her head at the idea that she might actually go through with this and write to a man looking for a mail order bride. If he was so affluent, why would he need to send for a wife? Emma dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter. This might be her chance to get the life back that she’d been forced to give up after her mother’s death.

  A gust of wind rattled the windows in the apartment, and rain splattered against the glass. It was getting late, and rushing out into the cold to go to the post office wasn’t a pleasant thought. Hopefully the weather would clear by tomorrow.

  Emma left the letters on the desk and headed for the small kitchenette to set water on the stove for some tea. By the time the kettle whistled, Rose came barging through the front door.

  She pulled her soaked shawl and cloak off, as water dripped from her hair. A bright smile lit up her face.

  “Well, I did it. I sent the letter,” she announced joyfully. “Hopefully I will hear back soon.”

  Emma handed her cousin a steaming cup of tea. Rose’s smile faded.

  “I just worry about you, Emma. What’s going to happen when I leave?”

  Emma held her mug between her hands and blew at the steam rising from it. She glanced up, meeting her cousin’s eyes.

  “Well, I thought about what you said earlier, and about Willow and Gillian,” she said slowly. “Perhaps you are all correct, and finding a husband through an ad is the right way to go.”

  Rose raised her eyebrows and her smile returned. “Let’s take a look at the Gazette again. I’m sure we can find someone for you,” she said eagerly. Her eyes darted around the room, until they fell on the paper Emma had left on the chair.

  “I think I already found someone suitable. I took a look at the ads while you were gone.” Emma moved to the desk and set her mug down. She faced Rose. “I was hoping you’d write the letter for me, since you have such beautiful penmanship. You know, to make a good first impression,” she added hastily.

  “Of course.” Rose met her by the desk. She sat and reached for a sheet of paper and the quill. “Who is this man, and what would you like me to say?”

  Emma leaned her hip against the desk, then picked up her mug. She took a sip of the hot brew, and stared out the window for a moment.

  “Dear Mr. Benton,” she dictated. “My name is Emmaline Waterston of Boston, and I happened upon your notice in the Grooms’ Gazette, stating that you are in need of a wife. I am twenty-three years old, have lived in Boston all my life, although I currently reside in Lawrence, and come from an outstanding family. I am highly accomplished in running a staffed household, am mild-mannered, and possess impeccable social skills.”

  She paused, and waited for Rose to catch up with the dictation. “Should I say that I am comely, or not?”

  Rose looked up. “You’re beautiful, Emma, but maybe leave a little mystery in the letter.” She beamed conspiratorially.

  Emma nodded and cleared her throat. “I look forward to your response, and hope that you find me suitable to become your wife. Respectfully yours, Emma Waterston.”

  Chapter Two

  Emma accepted the conductor’s hand and stepped off the train. She offered him a quick smile and a nod, then scanned the people milling around the train station. She drew in a deep breath. Finally, she’d arrived in Lexington. The five-day trip from Lawrence had been miserably long and exhausting.

  A sudden urge overtook her to turn around, climb back on the train, and head home to her familiar Boston, but she curled her toes in her shoes and raised her chin. She’d come this far, and there was nothing left for her in Boston, or in Lawrence. Rose had left the day before she did, and would most likely arrive in Colorado by tomorrow. They’d said their teary-eyed goodbyes on a drizzly morning, each wishing the other luck, and promising to write often.

  “It’ll all work out,” Rose had said, giving her a final hug. “We can both make a fresh start, you’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Emma had plastered a smile on her face and waited for Rose to board her train. Her cousin had her own share of troubles, and Emma was ready to leave hers behind. She’d spent her last day in Lawrence packing her two remaining good dresses, cleaning the apartment, and re-reading the letters she’d received from Gillian and Willow.

  The advice they’d both given her had been very similar. Both of her friends had found happiness and good husbands. Willow had
told her to put her faith and trust in God, that all would work out.

  Emma clutched her reticule in one hand and gripped the cloak that was draped around her shoulders. Perspiration beaded her forehead. It was a warm April day, but it was easier wearing it than carrying it along with her traveling bag.

  Her stomach twisted into knots as she set her bag on the platform so that she could smooth down the front of her dress, and tuck some loose curls of her upswept hair back under her traveling hat. With trembling hands, she pulled an envelope from her reticule and unfolded the letter it contained.

  My dear Emma,

  If you find a man half as good as Rhys, then you will find a wealth far beyond that of money. Look what money has wrought in my life. You know I love you dearly, but please search beyond his wealth and be sure you have common values and interests to build a bond of the heart, not the pocket book. I can see your deep frown, my dear friend, and hear your heated response. Know I write these words in love and hope that you will find the happiness and love Rhys and I have secured. Love and friendship always,

  Gillian

  Emma relaxed the muscles above her eyes. Her friend knew her well, but even though Gillian had found love, and offered advice from her experience, Emma had no wish to build a ‘bond of the heart’ with a man. Her mother and father had shared nothing in common, at least nothing she’d ever noticed, and money was the only thing that interested him in their relationship. It was all that had kept them together.

  Emma laughed. Love had nothing to do with marriage. She would run Mr. Benton’s household, entertain guests, and hang from her husband’s arm like a dutiful society wife. In turn, she would live in the comfort to which she was accustomed. No more freezing at night because wood and coal were expensive to heat the tiny apartment, or living off of stale bread and cheese because money needed to be saved for rent. No more wearing filthy clothes, doing her own laundry, or sitting in a hot factory all day, sewing garments for the rich. Other women would be sewing her clothes again.