Hope: Bride of New Jersey (American Mail-Order Brides 3) Read online

  Hope nodded. “Or perhaps. . .”

  “Perhaps what?”

  Addie seemed like a very bright child who just needed more of a way to express herself. “What if we made some books? We can write our own stories and draw our own pictures. Then our books could be everything a proper book should be.”

  Addie’s eyes lit up. “We could write a book? Could we truly?”

  “Of course. It wouldn’t be the kind of book people could buy at the store, but we could read it together and enjoy it ourselves. I see paints on that shelf—do you know how to paint?”

  Addie looked down and shook her head. “Miss Smith said I have no talent and shouldn’t try ever again.”

  A spark of fury lit inside Hope, but she tamped it down. It would do no good to let Addie see it. “And who is Miss Smith?”

  “She’s the governess I had last year.”

  “I see. And did she also say you were incorrigible?”

  “No. She said I was stupid.”

  Now the spark became more of a flame. How dare these women use such horrible words to describe a child? Did they really consider themselves educators? “I have known you for the space of an hour, and in that time, I’ve come to a very important conclusion. Would you like to know what that conclusion is?”

  Addie nodded, her eyes curious.

  “You are neither stupid nor incorrigible. In fact, you are very bright, and we shall have fun learning together. Fetch me those paints, and let’s begin your book.”

  ***

  After spending another two hours with Addie, Hope determined that the child was behind in many areas, but it would be a simple matter to correct that. What she needed most was a governess who would stay longer than two months and provide her with some consistency. If Mr. Edwards were to come home and, for whatever reason, decide that Hope wasn’t suitable to become his wife, she would ask to stay on as the governess so Addie wouldn’t be forced to experience yet another loss.

  They both needed a break from their studies, so Hope asked Addie what she would like to do next.

  “Battledore and shuttlecock!” Addie said, bouncing out of her seat.

  Hope stifled a groan. She was useless at that game—she couldn’t hit the shuttlecock nine times out of ten. “That’s the game you’d like to play?” Maybe the tone of her voice would make Addie change her mind.

  “Oh, yes! It’s my very favorite. Uncle Edwards plays with me once in a while when he’s home, but that’s not nearly as often as I’d like. Please, Hope?”

  Hope took a deep breath. “All right, but I warn you, I’m not very good at it.”

  “I can teach you. I’m very good.”

  The child’s confidence made Hope smile. “Very well. Let’s put on our cloaks—it looks chilly outside.”

  Ten minutes later, Hope stood on a large patch of lawn out back of the mansion, feeling as awkward as she ever had in her life. She clutched a battledore in one hand, wishing she was more skilled with using it.

  “Are you ready?” Addie called out.

  “No, but I suppose we should go ahead anyway,” Hope replied.

  Addie tossed the shuttlecock in the air. Hope tried her best to hit it, but her aim was off, and it landed on the grass instead. Addie regarded her with her head tilted to the side.

  “You’re right. You’re not very good at this.”

  Hope put one hand on her hip. “We just started. Perhaps I’ll get better as we go on.”

  Addie looked doubtful, but she nodded. “Let’s try again.”

  After fifteen minutes of attempt after attempt, Hope laughed and shook her head. “I did warn you,” she said. “I’m simply terrible at this game.”

  “You just need to watch the shuttlecock as it comes toward you,” Addie said for probably the twentieth time.

  “I do try. I just can’t manage to hit it,” Hope said. “Let’s go back inside and find something warm to drink. It’s chilly out here—I can’t feel my toes anymore.”

  They put the equipment away and then settled in at the kitchen table, where Cook was more than happy to make them some chamomile tea. Addie’s cheeks were pink from the fresh air and exercise, and she looked quite different from the pale child Hope had met that morning. “Thank you for trying to teach me,” she told the girl. “I suppose we’ll have to learn another game.”

  “Oh, no,” Addie responded. “You mustn’t give up so fast. Uncle Edwards says that if you can’t do something the first time, you must try and try again until your face turns blue.”

  Hope smiled. “He says that, does he?”

  Addie nodded vigorously.

  “Well, my toes nearly turned blue with the cold. Is that close enough?”

  Addie seemed to contemplate that question. “I don’t think so. I think we need to try again.”

  Hope sighed and took a sip of her tea. There was going to be no escaping it—she would be learning to play battledore and shuttlecock whether she wanted to or not. She didn’t want to set a bad example for Addie, and if she quit because she was frustrated, that’s exactly what she would be doing.

  That afternoon, she sat down and penned quick letters to her friends. She wished she had something more to tell them, but she gave them her address and told them about Addie. In time, she’d tell them about the wedding and her new life as Mrs. Edwards.

  ***

  Dinner that night was very quiet. Because Mr. Edwards wasn’t home, Mrs. Green suggested that Hope and Addie eat in the kitchen rather than the dining room, and Hope had no objection. She’d rather eat in the kitchen anyway—it was so much warmer and comfortable than the spacious and echoing dining room.

  After Hope said goodnight to Addie, she walked down the hallway to her own room and noticed a figure slipping down a side hallway. Curiosity got the better of her, and she called out, “Hello?”

  The figure stopped and turned slowly. “Yes’m?”

  Hope stepped forward and smiled. “My name is Hope Middleton. I’ve just arrived here.”

  The woman nodded slowly. Hope noticed that her back was slightly hunched—that was most likely from the hours she spent on her sewing, Hope guessed.

  “Are you Ann?”

  The woman nodded again. She held a tray in her hands with some bread and cheese on it.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Ann. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a little something more for your dinner? I know there’s a nice stew downstairs.”

  Ann shook her head. “This’s all I want. Suits me just fine. Thanks all the same.”

  “If you change your mind, please be sure to let someone know.” Hope felt as though her hand of friendship was being repeatedly rejected, but that wouldn’t stop her from extending it.

  “Yes’m.” Ann turned and slipped away, all but disappearing into the dark hallway. Curious that she didn’t have a candle or a lantern up here in the portion of the house without electricity.

  The next morning, Hope and Addie ate breakfast together, then did their studies. Hope was pleased to see that Addie seemed less apprehensive about their schooling session, and as a result, everything went much more smoothly. After they worked several mathematics problems together, Hope released Addie to play with her dolls and decided to take a walk.

  She put on her cloak and headed outside, first touring the gardens and then venturing into the woods. The rain from a few days before started up again, a light drizzle this time, and she actually found it enjoyable. What she didn’t enjoy after a few minutes was the cloud cover that soon obscured the light, making everything dark and gloomy. Then the rain came down in earnest, and she could barely see where she was going. All she could hear was the sound of rain hitting the ground and the barking of a dog.

  She shielded her eyes from the sharp, stinging drops and was making her way back to the house when the whinny of a horse startled her. She turned just in time to see the animal rear up behind her and throw its rider to the ground. He uttered a profanity, and the dog that had been trotting along beside him barke
d more ferociously than before.

  “Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. Please, allow me to help you stand.”

  The man looked at her from where he sat in a puddle on the ground. His dark hair was becoming sodden in the rain, and it curled around his ears under his hat. “Where did you come from, rising up out of the mist like some sort of ghost? You realize you frightened my horse—you are the reason I now sit on the ground like a boulder.”

  Hope’s cheeks burned hot. “I know, sir, and I’m very sorry. Please accept my apologies.”

  The man shifted his weight as though to stand, but winced and sat again. “I’ve twisted my ankle. You wouldn’t have a cane or anything about, would you?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

  “An umbrella I could use as a cane?”

  She would buy an umbrella at her very next opportunity. “Again, no.”

  He cursed again and slapped the ground. Water splashed onto his sleeve, and Hope tried not to smile. His show of anger had only made him even muddier.

  “Allow me to help you onto your horse, sir. I’m more than capable.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “You’re all of what—five feet? I’d hardly consider you strong enough.”

  Hope put one hand on her hip. “As I see it, sir, you have one of two choices. You can either allow me to help you, or you can sit here in the mud while I run back to Hazelbrook and fetch help. Which will it be?”

  “Ah, you’re from Hazelbrook, are you?” He looked at her with curiosity.

  “I am.”

  “Belongs to that Edwards fellow, I believe.”

  “As you say. Now, tell me, sir. Which action shall we take?”

  He gave a great, gusty sigh. “I suppose no harm can come from allowing you to help me. If I fall and we both tumble in the mud, we can’t get any dirtier than we are now. Come here, then.”

  He came to his knees and put one arm around Hope’s shoulders. Then he hoisted himself onto his uninjured foot and grabbed his horse’s bridle, managing to swing himself up into the saddle. He seemed a bit winded from his effort. “I shall be on my way, then. Take care to get yourself inside as soon as you can. You’re already soaked through.” He flicked the reins and was gone nearly as suddenly as he’d come, his dog gamboling ahead.

  Hope stood there in the lane, flummoxed. Who was he, and how had he managed to appear and disappear so rapidly? Of course the mist had made everything difficult to see, but he seemed to come out of nowhere. She shook her head, recalling how gruff he’d been. No matter. He was not going to spoil her perfectly nice walk.

  Chapter Four

  When Hope stepped back into the house a short time later, Mrs. Green met her in the entryway. “Gracious sakes, you look like you’ve done nothing but roll in the mud. Go change, and then get back down here as quickly as you can. Mr. Edwards is here, and he’s asked to see you.”

  “Mr. Edwards?” Hope’s heart made a curious little leap.

  “That’s right. Now go clean up, and be quick about it.”

  Hope took the stairs two at a time, glad no one was watching, then closed her bedroom door and struggled out of her wet clothes. She supposed she had stayed out in the rain far longer than she should have, but the air was fresh and clean, and she had enjoyed herself.

  Ten minutes later, changed and with her hair combed and freshly pinned, she came back down the staircase, this time with much more decorum. She crossed the entryway and hesitated at the doorway of the parlor, where she heard voices. She was about to meet the man she would marry—her nerves were trying to get the best of her. What if this had been a horrible mistake? After taking a deep breath to compose herself, she entered the room.

  “And here is our Miss Middleton,” Mrs. Green said, motioning for Hope to come closer to the fire. A man sat in the large wing-back chair, Addie at his feet.

  Hope came nearer and was surprised, and yet not surprised at all, to discover that he was the same man she had just encountered on the lane. “Sir,” she said, dropping a slight curtsy.

  “Miss Middleton.” He raised a hand. “Please, be seated.”

  She sat, casting her mind back on their meeting and wondering if she’d said or done anything he was likely to find shocking or inappropriate. If she had, there was nothing she could do about it now, so there was no point in worrying about it.

  “I’ve been examining Addie, and I see that you have done a good job with her so far,” Mr. Edwards said. “She tells me that you’re writing a book together, and that you shall teach her how to draw the pictures. You draw, then?”

  “Yes. Drawing is one of my greatest joys in life,” Hope replied. He was looking at her very fiercely from under his dark brows, and she wasn’t at all sure how to take him.

  “May I see some of your accomplishments?”

  Hope had been wishing he would not ask. Her drawings were personal, private, the odd musings of her own imagination, but she determined to hold nothing back from this man. If she was to be his wife, it wouldn’t do to have secrets. “Addie, would you please run up to my room and fetch the portfolio that’s on my bed?”

  “Of course.” Addie stood and trotted off, the full skirt of her dress swishing as she went.

  Mr. Edwards waited until the child was no longer in earshot. “Addie has no talents, but she seems to be happy. Thank you for that.”

  Hope pressed her lips together. She seemed to do that a great deal when it came to Addie’s education. She didn’t want to argue with this man so soon after they officially met, but there were some things that needed to be said. “I’m curious, sir, how you have arrived at the conclusion that Addie has no talents.”

  Mr. Edwards raised an eyebrow. “Every governess she’s ever had has told me the same thing—she is not a bright child, and I should never expect much from her. Why do you look at me so severely? What is your opinion?”

  “My opinion is that no one should ever attempt to judge another human being’s potential, especially that of a child. I’ve spent a short amount of time with her, but in that time, I’ve discovered imagination, willingness to learn, and great curiosity. These are things that cannot be acquired and cannot be taught—she possesses them naturally. That alone fills me with great anticipation for what else we’ll discover together.”

  “Indeed.” Mr. Edwards shifted his position slightly, and Hope noticed for the first time that his leg was up on an ottoman.

  “Does your ankle hurt much, sir?” she asked.

  “No more than one would expect from being thrown off a horse in a rainstorm.” He fixed her with his gaze again. “Tell me, Miss Middleton, what is your story of woe?”

  She blinked. “My story of woe?”

  “Oh, come now. Every mail-order bride has a story of woe. What’s yours?”

  Hope considered this for a moment. She could choose to skip over the details of her past, but it was best that he understand as much about her as possible. “I am an orphan, and was taken in by my aunt and uncle when I was five years old. Shortly after, my uncle passed, and I was left in the care of my aunt. She had three children—a boy who was a few years older than myself, and two girls who were closer to me in age. The boy delighted in tormenting me, but I was punished for his behavior. My aunt decided at last that I couldn’t be dealt with any longer, and sent me away to a girls’ school.”

  Mr. Edwards furrowed his brow. “And at what age were you sent to school?”

  “I was ten, sir. At the school, I learned a great many things—French, art, music, dancing, and recitation, as well as the usual course of study. The teachers were harsh, and believed in punishing the students for the slightest infraction.” Hope forced away the parade of images that threatened to overwhelm her, from her cousin’s violent fist to the sharp crack of the birch rod held in her piano instructor’s hand. “I determined that no student of mine would ever feel intimidated while learning, and I have adopted an entirely different approach to education.” She nodded toward Addie, who had come back in and sat quietly at s
ome point during their discussion. She had been so intent on ignoring the pain of the past, she hadn’t noticed the child’s return.

  Mr. Edwards pursed his lips. “You said in your letter that you taught for a short time at this girls’ school.”

  “I did. I taught for one year before it was time to make my way in the world. They ask their residents to leave at the age of eighteen, you see. I traveled to Massachusetts, where I worked in a textile mill for a year, but it recently burned down. I am as you see me now.”

  “I envy you, Miss Middleton.”

  “Sir?” What had she said that could possibly make him feel that way? It was hardly a story to be envied.

  “You are so open and forthright. I am entirely unable to be that way.” Mr. Edwards shifted again and took a sip from the goblet at his elbow. “May I see your artwork now?”

  “Certainly.”

  Hope concentrated on looking unconcerned as he flipped through the drawings in her portfolio. She knew they were not good, but they meant something to her. He studied each for only a few seconds before moving on to the next, making her wonder if he was even truly looking at them.

  “Where did you get your ideas?” he asked after a moment.

  “From my imagination, sir.”

  “You cooked these up in that head I see on your shoulders?”

  “I did.”

  He nodded once and went back to perusing. Why wouldn’t he make some comment as to what he thought? She couldn’t read his face or determine if he was pleased or displeased by what he saw.

  “These are rather curious drawings for a schoolgirl,” he said at last, closing the portfolio and handing it back to Addie. Without being asked, she left the room to return it.

  “My imagination takes journeys of its own,” Hope replied.

  “And you play the pianoforte,” he went on.

  “I do, sir.”

  He nodded toward the instrument that stood in the corner of the room. “Would you do me the honor?”

  “Right now?” Hope hadn’t played for over a year—there wasn’t an instrument at the textile mill, of course. She was horribly out of practice.