Imogene’s Ingenuity: The Alphabet Mail-Order Brides Read online

  Imogene felt a little shiver down her spine, but it wasn’t the cold arc of fear this time. There was a measure of anticipation in the sensation. A hint of challenge.

  And Imogene liked a little challenge now and then.

  “I will just have to be a wife that he can be proud of,” she murmured the words and turned to look at Mrs. Hampton who gave her an approving nod. “The wedding will quiet the concerns of the town and there’s no reason that Mr. Hix or his business will have to suffer adverse effects as long as we appear to be a perfectly dutiful couple from here forward.”

  Mrs. Hampton’s eyes narrowed a bit as a furrow pinched between her brows. “There’s nothing that says you have to be perfect at anything.”

  “But,” Imogene grinned, blinking away any semblance of tears from her lashes, “there’s also nothing that says I can’t be.” Standing, Imogene moved to her trunk with Mrs. Hampton stepping up beside her. “I know the perfect gown to be married in.” Grasping the edge of the trunk, Imogene leaned in and shushed aside two more gowns and took hold of the gown at the bottom of the trunk. When she was once again upright, she took hold of the gown in both hands and let it unfold itself in the soft morning light coming through the window.

  When Mrs. Hampton didn’t immediately comment, Imogene turned to look at her hostess. “Isn’t it the perfect gown?” Before Mrs. Hampton could gather her own words, Imogene continued. “It’s quite a gown,” she explained, “made of fine wool. The dressmaker had brought it in for a client who hadn’t taken a liking to the color. While a bit somber, it will give the town little to speak of in the way of rumor. If there are those that feel that either one of us have behaved in a manner that was inappropriate, this gown is my promise,” she nodded in satisfaction, “my oath to become a sturdy pillar of this community. A wife that can be a credit to her husband.”

  Mrs. Hampton had tried to remind her that the wedding could also be a celebration, but Imogene wouldn’t hear of it.

  “A light-colored gown might make me appear flighty or too youthful in my nature. Those gowns I can wear later. The wedding at the church will be my introduction to most of the town. I want them to walk away with the most favorable impression of me that they can.”

  When all was said and done, Mrs. Hampton took the gown downstairs with her, insisting that she iron the garment as a part of her wedding gift to Imogene and the bride-to-be was left to repack her trunk as the whole thing would be carried downstairs in the morning and moved to the print shop after services were done.

  Chapter 11

  Silas awoke on the morning of his wedding with his head and heart aching. Sitting on the edge of his bed he groaned at the thought that he would soon be sharing the narrow bed with a wife.

  A wife.

  Leaning his face into his hands he tried to let out a groan and found that he couldn’t. All of his pain was locked up inside of himself.

  What have I done?

  His voice worked just fine in his head.

  What have I done to that poor woman?

  It was a fair question and one that he’d heard hundreds of times since he’d arrived back at the shop after the meeting at the church.

  Appleton Winslet had been one of the first men to make his acquaintance and in a likely fit of insanity, Silas had told the other man his hopes and dreams for his print shop including the possibility of printing a newspaper for the town someday. Appleton, in true character form had laid all of his cards on the table. The man was short of nothing. Ego and self-importance, he had in abundance. He’d made free to tell Silas what he thought of his chances at making a success of a print shop, let alone a newspaper, nor did he believe there were sufficient numbers of people that could read well enough to make the venture pay. ‘Perhaps in a score of years...’

  While he didn’t instinctively trust the attorney, he’d given the matter thought, for his own mind was his greatest asset when coupled with his heart as a driving force.

  The Bower Newspaper would someday see the light of day, but it would take long days and even nights.

  And now the attorney had a hand in the next big change in his life. How he had nearly beaten down the door after the storm. It was hard to understand what Appleton had been hoping for. If Imogene hadn’t been with him, she would have been lost out in the snow. And yet, finding Imogene at the print shop with him had created another set of circumstances that must have been just as distasteful for the attorney.

  He’d seen it in the other man’s eyes.

  And the eyes of the other men that had made their way through the snow to his door.

  There had been a mix of relief and worry.

  And then when Pastor Clement and Mr. Hampton had taken him to see Imogene at the Hampton House, when they’d explained that they’d determined the best step to take was indeed a marriage that would salvage their reputations.

  Silas recalled the confusion and hesitation in Imogene’s express when she’d been told about the plan to marry him.

  He just hoped that both of them would soon have the opportunity to spend a few quiet moments in each other’s company without the entire town feeling like they had the right to weigh in on their friendship.

  On their relationship.

  He hadn’t even had a conversation with Imogene about her plans for marrying. What kind of man did she want in a husband? Did she want to have children?

  At the very least, she would have expected a different set of circumstances leading up to such an event. If she had to be married, she could have had a courtship first.

  He’d cheated her out of that by his inattention.

  Silas hung his head even further and ran his fingers through his sleep tousled hair at the back of his head. He’d look a fright when he managed to get up on his feet and stare at himself in the mirror.

  Perhaps he’d even resemble the monster that he believed he’d become.

  “If only...” he muttered to himself.

  If only he’d kept an eye on the windows.

  If only he’d sent her home to the boarding house instead of asking her to read what he’d written.

  If only he’d thought of her more than himself and his business.

  If only...

  Those were all behind him now. And the future ahead of him was looming. There was only one thing certain in his future.

  He was about to become a married man.

  A man who would be responsible for the care of a spouse.

  A wife.

  A woman placed in his care when he could barely manage to take care of himself.

  Groaning he leaned even further forward and nearly fell to the floor.

  “Would serve me right,” he sighed, “to crack my head open on the day of my wedding and make a mess of this too.”

  For a fleeting second, he could see another possibility ahead of him. If he was unlucky enough to fall as he’d been about to, he might have died alone in his rooms and let the poor woman off the hook.

  The thought was quickly set aside. While marrying might be a worrisome thing for Imogene, leaving her alone to face the town?

  That would be even worse.

  Pushing himself off his mattress, Silas found himself standing before his mirror and glaring at the image he saw there. The tiny square was hung high on the wall to suit his lanky frame, but unless Imogene had one of her own, he’d likely have to hang it lower so that she could see herself in the foxed reflection.

  But that would have to wait.

  Even for the short time that they had known each other he’d been somewhat shocked at how aware he was of her when she was in any proximity to him.

  And disconcerted at how much he seemed to crave her presence.

  The thought staggered him. He hadn’t given himself leave to put it into words as he’d just done. Hadn’t allowed himself to think of how much he actually enjoyed her conversation, her assistance, and oddly enough her sweet scent whenever he was close enough to catch a breath of her.

  The ache intensifie
d in his chest and his heart seemed to thump hard enough against his ribs to make each beat a painful one. Perhaps it was just another part of his penance for trapping this poor woman into marrying him.

  It was his bad judgement to give her the job in the first place. Insanity. It had been a moment of insanity. He could claim that and give her the opportunity to-

  To what?

  They say the west was a land of unending opportunity and a place for everyone to have a fresh start, but that wasn’t the truth. The west was a place of judgmental people who enjoyed watching others fall from grace and then grinding them under their heels.

  Silas groaned aloud.

  She couldn’t turn him down. Her reputation would still be ruined. The only decent thing to do was to marry her, do what he could to make her satisfied with her life since she wouldn’t… couldn’t ever be happy with the life that he could provide for her.

  Imogene had a fine face, a decidedly feminine form, but it was her mind that was her greatest asset. She should have a husband that could take her around the world to see the wonders that it had to offer.

  What he could offer her, for the foreseeable future was a lot of manual labor and some manner of friendly discourse.

  He had one suit that his father had given him. A suit that he had been told was for special occasions. It was in a trunk. Somewhere. It would be clean but would be in sore need of pressing. And most likely smelled like cloves and peppercorns that he’d been told to pack in his trunk with it. He closed his eyes and groaned. He would offer her what he could and try his best to make it enough for her.

  Getting up on his feet he set his sights on the important thing he needed to do. Find his suit.

  This was his wedding day.

  And he was going to do whatever he could not to make it the biggest mistake of their lives.

  * * *

  It had never occurred to Imogene to dream about a wedding. Marrying had not been in her future as far as she had been concerned. Still, as she sat in the Pastor’s home with both Mrs. Hampton and the pastor’s wife fluttering about the room, it occurred to her that what she missed most of all was the comforting presence of her sisters and Madam Wigg.

  Blinking back tears she lifted her hands to take the cup of tea from the pastor’s wife.

  “Thank you, Gwen. I do so appreciate you opening your home to me.”

  “Oh hush, dear,” Mrs. Clement paused in her rush for a moment, sitting down beside Imogene and giving her a peaceful smile. “You’re one of us now and we take care of our own, don’t we, Carolina?”

  Mrs. Hampton set aside her iron and grinned back at the pastor’s wife. “Of course we do. When Gwen and I arrived here in Bower, probably a year or two apart if my memory serves me well,” Mrs. Clement nodded, “the men outnumbered us in the scores! We learned very quickly to seek the comfort and succor of another female for companionship or at the very least sanity. For the men, who are wild now, were even worse back then.”

  Mrs. Clement nodded. “Sometimes walking down the street was a chore. Even with my bonnet securely tied beneath my chin I could feel their stares as I walked along.”

  Imogene wondered how owlish she looked as she turned toward the pastor’s wife. “Were you afraid?”

  “Oh no,” Mrs. Clement laid a reassuring hand on her arm, “the men didn’t scare me. They were just curious. Some hadn’t seen a woman in over a year.”

  “Some more than that,” added Mrs. Hampton, “it was almost pitiful how they’d gawk and stare. I think someone walked into the side of a building looking at me one day and Miles didn’t like that at all.”

  Mrs. Clement’s cheeks colored. “I dare say he did not!” She turned back to Imogene. “Mr. Hampton is a jovial sort of man on any day, but if a man took his time looking at Carolina, why... I’ve known him to set them straight in no uncertain terms.”

  “Was there a fight?”

  The two ladies shared a look before Mrs. Hampton lifted the iron from the top of the stove and continued with her efforts.

  “No there wasn’t,” Mrs. Clement reassured her. “Some towns... perhaps the larger ones... may see men as outrageous in their behavior as to draw that kind of ire to themselves, but here in Bower, if such a thing were to happen, the person guilty of such an offense would be sent packing.

  “Miners and the like may be as uncouth as they wish in their heads and hearts, but in Bower they know to treat a woman with respect.”

  Imogene felt an instinctual fear for Silas. What if he was in the same predicament?

  Then again, she felt a quick pain in her chest, Silas was marrying her because of a mistake. He didn’t love her. And that was a comfort in that it would be unlikely that he would feel the need to confront a man on her behalf.

  “And yet, Mr. Hampton and Pastor Clement, they both love you.” Oh, why was she torturing herself with her own words. “He’ll become my husband because of an obligation. Because he sees the necessity in protecting our reputations.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Clement’s hand tightened on her arm. “Is that what you think?”

  Imogene felt her stomach twist when she thought over her words. “I didn’t mean to imply that he’s thoughtless or that he doesn’t care for my reputation. Truly, I believe him to be a good man, or I would not have spent any time at all at the print shop.” She saw Mrs. Clement visibly relax. “I only meant to say that he wouldn’t be in any danger of feeling that he needed to take up for my honor if someone stared at me or said something... wicked.”

  “And yet,” Mrs. Hampton turned to smile at her, “you just said he is marrying you, partly to preserve your reputation. How could he not stand between you and a man who might insult you?”

  The thought was sobering. “I’m sure there is a way to release him from defending me, should such a situation arise. I am quite capable of ignoring any untoward looks or rude remarks. I have quite the thick skin, you know?”

  She didn’t know quite what to make of the looks passed between the two women, but she would think on it later. The clock near the doorway chimed the quarter hour and all of a sudden, her hands went cold.

  Setting aside the iron, Mrs. Hampton lifted the gown and held it aloft in her hands. “Free and clear of wrinkles, my dear.” She turned to look at Mrs. Clement and the two shared another curious look. “I can still send Miles back to the boarding house for another gown if you’ve decided against this one.”

  Standing with the welcome assist of Mrs. Clement at her side, Imogene shook her head. “He deserves to know that I take this marriage seriously. That the somber tone of my garment will show him how dreadfully sorry I am to be forcing his hand in such a way.”

  Mrs. Clement pursed her lips together as she looked at Imogene.

  “Oh, please don’t cry, Mrs. Clement. If you do, then I will start, and Silas doesn’t deserve a bride with tears on her cheeks.”

  * * *

  When Silas turned toward the front door of the church, he tried to place a smile on his face. He was the groom. This was his wedding.

  And he didn’t want to frighten the bride into tears with a worrisome look on his face.

  He wanted to see her smile, just like the first time she’d assembled a chase in mere minutes and presented it to him with as much pomp and circumstance as befitted a king.

  The pride on her face had been illuminating, not just to her joy, but his heart. He’d been entranced by her smile and the light burning in her eyes at the accomplishment of her own hands.

  He wanted to see that again. Over and over until she didn’t have to feel that fear ever again.

  The words in his head startled him. How had he gone from a bachelor with no time, need, or prospects for a wife to a man about to marry.

  He had a business to build into a success. He spent day and night with his press and he was fairly sure the only scent he had in his nose was the thick, cloying scent of the ink.

  And yet, here he was, waiting anxiously at the front of the church in his be
st suit, with his freshly washed hair curling over the top of his collar.

  Silas looked down at his hands and saw the shadows of ink staining his fingers. With a huff, he clasped his hands behind him hoping that everyone would ignore the sad state of his hands.

  Passing before him, Pastor Clement gave him a smile. “Nervous?”

  Nervous. That was a massive understatement.

  “I’m not sure what I feel at the moment. I don’t think I can feel my feet.”

  Both men looked down at his feet and then met each other’s eyes.

  Pastor Clement’s smile was twisted up at the corners. “They’re still there, but you are quite tall. I’m sure the blood takes a bit of time to get from one end to the other. Would you like to sit for a few moments? If I know my dear wife, and I believe I do, she and Mrs. Hampton are chatting. Likely, they have your intended stuck in the middle. It may be a few minutes after the hour before we’ll see them on their way.”

  Silas felt the blood drain from his face. “Perhaps a seat may be a good idea,” he commented to no one in particular. And he would have sat down on the spot if Pastor Clement didn’t direct him toward the first pew.

  He could hear a few more enter the church behind him, but he sat still on the pew as his hands began to shake. It was moments before two sets of feet were at the edge of his vision.

  “You look...”

  “Unwell.”

  Silas heard a chiding tone and looked up. Livingstone Quinn’s broad-shouldered form hovered over him. If the sun hadn’t been streaming through the side windows, the homesteader might have blotted out the rest of the available light.

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Silas felt silly admitting that to the men standing around him. All of them were happily married.

  He saw Pastor Clement and Mr. Hampton exchange glances.

  Miles sat down beside him on the pew. “You sound like we wouldn’t understand that.”

  Silas waved a hand in a non-committal gesture. “How could you?”