Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20) (2 page)

M
ichelle set
down the coins on the counter slowly, jiggling her bag and sighing at the lightness of it. Funds were running low for her, and taking in some small sewing jobs had helped--but also required needle and thread, which she now placed in her reticule to finish the job she’d started the night before.

She placed the items in her pocket, her fingers brushing against the paper holding the notes she’d taken at the library. She’d gone with Josephine and together, they’d looked for information regarding where they might be heading--Josephine to New Orleans and Michelle to northern Mississippi, she hoped--someplace called Corinth.

The newspapers she’d been able to find that mentioned the town talked mostly about its importance as the crossroads between the North and South during the Civil War, and that the town and some of its houses had been occupied by troops of both the North
and
South as it passed back and forth as a result of ongoing skirmishes.

Michelle didn’t know much about the Civil War except that in Lawrence, Massachusetts, many men had joined up--and many of them had not returned. She’d been so young when it happened that she really didn’t remember much at all, except that it had been a very sad time for the entire country.

She read about the train lines crossing there and how the town had started to begin with. Corinth had been growing and had attracted industry--maybe even some clothing manufacturers.

As she walked down the street toward her apartment--the one she shared with too many girls, but none of them had anywhere else to go--she looked up at the sky. A bolt of lightning streaked across between the tall buildings and she ducked into a doorway right before the rain started to fall in buckets.

She turned up the collar of her coat, wishing she’d thought to bring an umbrella. At least she’d learned that Corinth was warmer than Lawrence.

People jostled in front of her as they tried to take shelter, elbows and skirts flying. As she waited for things to settle, she felt a tug at the hem of her skirt. Startled, she looked down at the small, dirty hands of a boy, his hat pulled down over his eyes as he held up a cup.

She immediately reached into her pocket, taking her last three coins from her reticule. She bent down and tried to look at the boy’s face, but his eyes were cast down. Gently patting his shoulder and placing the coins in the cup, she said, “Good luck to you.”

She stood and sighed. People suffered more than she did, and after looking down the street and seeing a clear path between the people hurrying to take shelter, she ran the two short blocks to her building, shaking the rain off her coat as she climbed the stairs.

As she entered the apartment, her roommate grabbed her coat and pulled her over to the table. Michelle glanced at her roommate , who looked like a cat who’d swallowed a canary, her hands behind her back.

Michelle crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it? I’m in no humor for jokes.”

Della skirted behind India, pulling an envelope out of her hand as India squealed.

“Give that back,” she cried, reaching for the envelope that Della now held over her head.”

“It’s for Michelle, anyway.” Della laughed as she tossed the letter in Michelle’s direction.

As the letter fluttered down and into her hands, Michelle took in a deep breath. Would this be the letter she’d been waiting for? She hoped it would, as she’d just given her last coins to the poor boy in the doorway.

They huddled around the table as Michelle sat and placed the envelope on it, reading and re-reading her name and the return address.

A
nthony
Chandler

Robbins’ Nest

Corinth, Mississippi

“
R
obbins’ Nest
?” Della bent and rested her elbows on the table. “Why doesn’t it have a number like an apartment? Is it a ranch?”

Michelle turned the letter over and slipped her finger inside. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s one of those big houses like we saw in the Civil War pictures. You know, where they all have names instead of street numbers. Like
The Willows
or
Broadmoore
.”

The paper crinkled as Michelle laid it on the table, running her hands over the creases to flatten it. There was another, smaller envelope in it that she set to the side.

“You have to read it out loud, Michelle,” Della pleaded.

Michelle furrowed her brow and looked toward the door.

“You can read it with Josephine later,” India said.

Looking back down at the page in front of her, Michelle said, “All right. You’re right. I can read it again later.”

Della nodded and sat down across from Michelle. “Go on.”

Butterflies fluttered in Micehlle’s stomach as she began to read

D
ear Miss Blake
,

T
hank
you for your quick response to my advertisement for a bride. I do hope that the weather will suit you here in Mississippi. I do believe it’s much warmer than Lawrence, Massachusetts, although I’ve not traveled there.

M
ichelle felt her cheeks heat
. Had she actually asked if it was warmer there in Corinth? She must have been cold when she was writing.

“Keep going,” Della encouraged, and Michelle looked up at her.

“I’m nervous,” she said, looking toward the window.

India sat down beside Michelle, her hand on her arm. “We’re all in the same boat, Michelle. We can all get through this together.”

Michelle lowered her eyes toward the letter.

I
mentioned
in my advertisement that I’d inherited twin girls, seven years of age. Due to the untimely death of my own sister, Adelaide. As you mentioned in your letter that you enjoy children and have some experience with them, I’d gladly have you come as my bride, and “mother” to the girls. I do employ household help in regard to the children, but the girls need a feminine, caring touch. Please know that I expect no wifely duties from you, and you will have your own room here at the Robbins’ Nest.

In addition to likely being much warmer, Corinth is a relatively small town. My family has lived here for generations, and we have a position to uphold. I hope it won’t offend you that I’ve sent some funds for you to acquire some suitable attire prior to arriving in Corinth, and of course to cover the cost of transportation.

Please let me know the date of your arrival, and I am hoping it will be as soon as possible.

S
incerely
,

Anthony Chandler

M
ichelle looked
up into the wide eyes of India and Della.

“Don’t stop now,” Della said. “How much did he send you?”

She opened the envelope. Her eyes grew as wide as her roommates’ as she spread out more money on the table than she’d see in one place.

Della gasped and stepped back from the table. “He must be rich!”

Michelle stood as well and walked over to the wardrobe they shared, her fingers running over the two drab gray dresses she did have. She couldn’t imagine a new wardrobe, a new life, children--it was so much, all at once.

She sat on the thin mattress, the springs groaning. “Do you think I can do this? It sounds as if he needs someone maybe a little more sophisticated. Maybe I should refuse.”

“And then what?” Della said softly as she sat down beside Michelle.

Her elbows on her knees and her forehead in her hands, Michelle remembered that she’d given her very last coins away, and she knew Della was right. She couldn’t possibly refuse. She’d be going to Mississippi whether she wanted to or not.

M
ichelle’s stomach
lurched along with the train as it slowed to pull into the station in Corinth, Mississippi. She must have fallen asleep--her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head from Josephine’s shoulder as her cousin brushed a red curl from her cheek.

As she looked out at the many trees, her head spun. So much had happened in the last few weeks that she’d barely had a chance to adjust. Michelle had gotten a letter first from Anthony Chandler, a man from Mississippi, and she and Josephine had read it together under the lamp.

Anthony’s description of his sister’s death and the twins he’d agreed to raise had tugged at Michelle’s heart, and she remembered her cousin’s eyebrows rose when she’d said, “I think this is the one, Josephine. I’m going to go.”

She tucked her hair back under her hat and sighed as the conductor announced that they’d be arriving in Corinth, Mississippi, imminently and her heart tugged as she watched Josephine do the same with one of her own honey-colored locks. She hoped with all her heart that this was a good match for her cousin, but they’d promised to keep in touch, and, after all, Louisiana wasn’t that far away.

When Michelle had shown her the ad for a woman who spoke French, she’d been so excited for Josephine. She’d spent years before she’d come to live with Michelle and her mother learning about what was expected of a French lady, her father insisting that she know. They’d both been surprised that this man in Louisiana, Pierre Bernard, expected exactly that--a French lady. One who could speak the language and behave accordingly as the wife of a plantation owner.

Josephine had panicked, and Michelle gazed at her beautiful cousin, hoping she’d done the right thing convincing her that she
did
know those things and would be a welcome addition to the plantation.

“Are...are we almost there?” Michelle’s thoughts turned to her own future, hoping that she would have a warm welcome as the future bride of Anthony Chandler and caretaker of the young twins.

“Yes, we are. Corinth is just ahead. How are you feeling?”

“Very nervous,” Michelle said as she gathered her reticule and took out a mirror, patting at her face as she re-arranged her curls. “How do I look?”

Michelle could tell from Josephine’s face that she looked like she’d been on a train for a very long time--which she had.

“He’ll think you’re beautiful,” she said, patting Michelle’s hand.

“Do you think that’s him?” Michelle said, pointing to a very tall, dark-haired man scanning the windows of the train cars.

“It does look like his picture,” Josephine said, squinting against the glaring light.

Michelle gathered her things as the train came to a stop. She knew Josephine was eager to continue on to meet the riverboat that would take her further south but she’d agreed to step off in the brief time they had to meet Mr. Chandler. Michelle’s stomach tightened and she took a deep breath, grateful that Josephine would be stepping down with her, even if only for a moment.

“Miss Blake?” the tall man they’d picked out of the crowd said as he walked up to the girls.

Michelle squeezed Josephine’s hand as she nodded slightly at the smiling gentleman. “Yes, and this is my cousin, Josephine.”

Josephine smiled and squeezed Michelle’s hand back. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Chandler.”

“Likewise,” he said, tipping his hat in Josephine’s direction. “Will you be staying with us for a bit before continuing your journey?”

“Oh, goodness, thank you, but I do believe I’m expected in New Orleans at the earliest possible moment.”

“I certainly understand,” he said as he scanned the luggage that was being taken off the train. “I do hope you’ll visit sometime.” Michelle described her suitcases and Anthony strode to the pile of luggage.

Michelle raised her eyebrows and looked at Josephine.

“Of course I will,” she said as she hugged Michelle tightly and whispered, “He seems very nice. Write to me at once and let me know.”

“I will, Josephine. I’ll miss you.”

Josephine patted her cheek and turned, waving as she lifted her skirts and climbed the stairs back onto the train. Michelle waved once more at Josephine as she sat down, the train whistle blowing as they moved from the station, vowing to write to Josephine as soon as she was settled.

The leather of her new gloves cooled her skin as Michelle brushed her palm across her cheek and turned to look for her future husband when she could no longer see Josephine’s hand waving from the window.

She felt a flood of relief as she looked about the train station in her new home town. For such a small town, there were many people at the station, either having gotten off the train or streaming in to meet new arrivals.

As Anthony walked toward her with her bags, she smiled, her eyebrows raised.

“You must have been expecting the twins,” he said, looking toward a small buggy tied to a post just beyond the station’s landing. He put her smaller suitcase under his arm and picked up the larger one, extending his free arm to her.

“Well, I was, actually.” She reached out for one of her hatboxes and threaded her arm through his as she looked up into deep brown smiling eyes. She looked around at the other arriving parties who had young boys follow them, juggling their bags. “Do you need some help?” she asked as he led her away from the train and toward the waiting buggies.

He stopped in front of the buggy he’d been eying and set the suitcases down. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he tipped his hat back from his head and dabbed at the sheen on his brow. He looked quickly over at her and smiled, extending his hand to help her into the buggy.

“No, but thank you. It’s good exercise.

She spread the yellow skirt she’d chosen for the journey out across her lap--not too fancy for travel but not too plain, and she hoped that he’d like what she’d chosen.

He placed her luggage in the back and stepped around, climbing in beside her. He let out a breath and sat for a moment, then turned to look at her.

Her cheeks flushed and she tugged at her gloves, aware that she looked exactly as she felt--travel-weary and in need of a bath.

“Mattie and Missy are too much of a handful in a crowded place like this. They end up going every which way, and I can’t keep up with them on my own.”

“I thought you had some help. A nanny and a housekeeper? That it wasn’t as if I’d be on my own with them. You’ll need to go to work, won’t you?” She could hear her voice rising a little bit as she spoke.

Anthony cleared his throat as he flicked the reins and urged the horses forward. “Oh, about that...”

Michelle frowned. In his letter, he’d mentioned a nanny and a housekeeper and that he was a man of means. Although she enjoyed children--the few she’d been around--she didn’t have a lot of experience since she was an only child. Would she know what to do to help?

“I did employ a nanny and I do have a housekeeper. Mable has been with the family for years and would never leave, I don’t think, for any reason at all.”

“And the nanny was responsible for their schooling?” Michelle said, trying to remember if she’d paid enough attention when she was at school to teach them. Her stomach tightened.

Anthony looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “That was the expectation, yes, but the girls are still rather young and schooling isn’t an urgent prospect at the moment.”

Michelle let out a breath, relief washing over her. She gripped the hatbox on her lap tighter and hoped that she’d be up to the task with the girls--whatever it was. Mr. Chandler had made it plain that he had no expectations of a marital union, so at least she could comfort herself with that. She may be in a strange city in a state she’d barely heard of, but at least she’d have her own room.