The Doctor's Lady (7 page)

“Well, if it happens at dinner, at least we won’t have to run for a doctor.” Priscilla’s tone was sourer than she’d intended.

“True,” Dr. Ernest added. “I’ll be sure to bring my doctor’s bag—just in case.”

Mary Ann raised her brow, and her eyes wavered with uncertainty.

Remorse nagged at Priscilla. She had no reason to take out her frustrations on her sister.
Lord, help me.
When would she ever learn to control her jealousy? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Forgive me.”

“I should think you’d be happy,” Mary Ann remarked slowly. “You’ve been praying all week for God to open a door for you to serve Him. And now He has.”

Her sister’s words made their way through the cracks in Priscilla’s crumbling resolve. She had indeed prayed for God to provide a way for her to go. And here was Dr. Ernest. He’d gone down on his knee and had practically pleaded with her to marry him—even though he knew exactly what kind of woman he was getting in the bargain.

If this wasn’t God’s answer to her prayers, she didn’t know what else could be.

Priscilla jerked her gaze away from her sister and leveled it upon Dr. Ernest.

His brows shot up.

“Yes.” She slapped the astronomy pamphlet closed.

“Yes?”

“In answer to your question, my answer is yes.”

A slow smile spread over his face, and the winter sunlight in his eyes began to dance. “Then it’s a deal?” He held out a hand.

She slipped her hand into his. “We have a deal.”

“Good.” His fingers closed around hers with the softness of a caress. And when his thumb brushed against the pulse in her wrist, her heart tumbled into a dizzying spin.

She had agreed to a marriage of convenience, a marriage in name only. That’s all.

And yet she couldn’t prevent a tiny thrill from winding through her heart. After the past several years of convincing herself that she wanted to be single, that she’d be completely content without a husband, she didn’t have to fool herself any longer.

She was finally getting the opportunity to do something every girl hoped for—she would get to have a wedding, enjoy the prestige of married life, and share the rest of her life—all her dreams and hopes—with a husband.

She had the voice of an angel.

Eli sat forward on his chair, and with each note of Priscilla’s unaccompanied song his heart drummed louder. Tendrils of her hair floated around her face like a golden halo. With her eyes closed and her face lifted heavenward, he could almost believe she was an angel instead of the soft, genteel lady he’d agreed to marry.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Mrs. White whispered.

Priscilla was indeed the loveliest creature in both heaven and earth. But he wouldn’t give Mrs. White the satisfaction of a compliment. If not for her, he might have enjoyed the dinner and evening much more. But as it was, she’d prattled on about all her accomplishments as director of her missionary organization and boasted of her work with the Mite Society to help the poor.

Upon reaching the last chord, Priscilla opened her eyes. Out of all the others in the parlor, her gaze sought him. Her top teeth came down over her bottom lip, and her wide eyes waited for his reaction.

His gut twisted with sudden keenness, and he couldn’t make his arms move to clap with everyone else. Instead, he nodded to her.

Her lashes came down over her flushed cheeks.

“What did you think of our Priscilla, Dr. Ernest?” Mrs. White’s question nipped at him, as all her others had.

He pushed himself out of the ornately carved chair. The eyes of the other guests fastened upon him—Reverend Lull and Mary Ann, Mr. White, and Priscilla—and they waited for his answer.

The heat from the fireplace, the stuffiness of the small room, and Mrs. White’s smothering had plastered his shirt to his back. He needed a breath of fresh air as much as he needed life itself.

“Miss White, thank you for the beautiful song. And I thank you, Mrs. White, for the very fine dinner.”

“Must you go so soon?” the woman asked. “Surely you have time to listen to one more song?”

“I’ll be back for the wedding on Sabbath eve.”

“This Sabbath? That’s only four days away.” Mrs. White arose from the settee. “Dr. Ernest, there is absolutely no possible way we can have the wedding in
four
days. We’ll need at least a month, and even then we’ll have to rush to get everything ready on time.”

Irritation pushed at his tongue, threatening to loosen it and make him say something he might later regret. The hassle was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid.

“Oh, Doctor, I’m sure you can allow us at least a month.”

“Mrs. White, listen to Dr. Ernest.” Mr. White rose from his chair and puffed out his chest.

“Now, Mr. White, you don’t know anything about the enormity of planning for a wedding.” Mrs. White glared at her husband. “I’ll thank you to stay out of the conversation.”

“Mother, we’ll make do.” Priscilla’s voice was gentle, as if she was used to placating her mother.

“If you’re going to do any planning this week,” Eli said, “you’d best put your efforts into preparing Priscilla for the long journey. She’ll need several plain dresses—”

“You can’t possibly expect Priscilla to be ready to travel so soon either. With all the trunks to pack—”

“She gets one trunk.”

Priscilla sucked in a soft breath and bumped against a round display table in the corner. Several framed portraits collapsed with a clatter.

Mary Ann made a sharp noise of protest too, but her husband, the reverend, silenced her with a touch on the arm.

“One trunk?” Mrs. White whispered, her voice laced with horror. “Impossible.”

Eli’s jaw tightened. “She gets one
small
trunk.”

“We don’t have any
small
trunks,” Mrs. White replied.

“Then find one.”

Priscilla stepped forward. “Are you sure there won’t be room for two—one for my personal items and one for my books and school supplies?”

Was he making a mistake marrying her? How would she ever be able to handle the difficult trip and a new way of living when she was used to all this? He glanced around the lavish room with its richly papered walls, elegant furniture, and thick rugs, and then landed upon the silky layers of her dress.

“I won’t send my daughter to her new home without the proper provisions—the linens, samplers, and family heirlooms she’s saved all these years.”

“One trunk.” Eli met Priscilla’s gaze.

Her eyes widened.

Was she having second thoughts about joining him? She might as well face the truth about the dangers of the journey before it was too late. “We’ll be lucky to carry all the food we need for the trip, much less trunks of provisions. When we get good and hungry, we won’t be able to eat linens.”

For a long moment, no one spoke, as if the reality of the arrangement was finally beginning to pierce their understanding.

“I won’t cover up the perils of the journey.” He had no choice but to help them understand the gravity of traveling west. “We’ll have about seven months of hard travel to reach Oregon Country. Any delay, even slight, means we could end up stranded in snow in the Blue Mountains, the last big range we need to cross before reaching the mission site. There’s the very real possibility we could face a shortage of food; we could be attacked and killed by hostile Indian tribes; we could drown in one of the many river crossings; we—”

“That’s enough, Dr. Ernest.” Mrs. White’s face had grown pale, revealing the blue veins in her temple. “If you are trying to scare us from allowing Priscilla to accompany you, then you are succeeding quite well.”

“It’s a dangerous trip, and I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into. That’s all.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ernest.” Priscilla traced the floral pattern in the plush rug with the tip of her slipper. “I had assumed I would be able to take more, similar to what I would have packed for traveling to India.”

“An overland trip is different than one by ship. If you want to back out of our agreement, I’ll understand. No hard feelings.” He swallowed his growing disappointment. “But if you still want to marry me and come with me, then we need to get married this Sabbath.”

He didn’t bother to listen to more of Mrs. White’s protests. Instead, he shook Reverend Lull’s and Mr. White’s hands and made his way into the spacious front hallway, heaviness pounding his bones with each step.

“Dr. Ernest,” Priscilla called.

He grabbed his cloak from the coat stand and tossed the worn garment about his shoulders.

“Dr. Ernest, wait.” She burst into the front hallway and rushed toward him.

He folded his hands across his chest and braced himself for her rejection. Sure, she was only reacting to all he’d said. But frustration clutched him anyway.

She stopped in front of him. “I’m sorry about my mother. She means well, and she only wants what’s best for me. With a little time, she’ll adjust to the idea of my going west and not to India. And so will I.”

He hesitated. “Maybe I should have done a better job clarifying everything beforehand.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment and then lifted a hand to his arm. Her soft touch soaked into him. “You will come back next Sabbath?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.” Her answer was hardly more than a whisper.

“Are you sure?” He nodded his head to the other room where the voices of Mr. and Mrs. White had grown louder. “Maybe your mother won’t let you marry me now.”

“If you promise to return, then I promise to marry you.”

“Even if you can’t have a proper wedding?”

“If we’re not having a proper marriage, why would I need a proper wedding?”

For a fraction of an instant, he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry . . .”

Maybe they wouldn’t have time for a fancy wedding, but he could still find a way to make it special for her, couldn’t he? He had his wages from working at the tannery for Walt. Would he have enough time and money to have a ring made for her?

His mind flashed with a vision of her gazing up at him with the adoring eyes of a real bride as he slipped the ring on her finger. Just as quickly, he shoved aside the picture. Under normal circumstances, her family—her mother—would never have agreed to the marriage, and Priscilla wouldn’t have either. Theirs was a union of convenience, and he’d do best to remember that.

“And what about all the danger?” His voice was edged with frustration at himself and the helplessness of the situation. “Didn’t I scare you away?”

“When I was fifteen, I made a vow before God that I would give my life in service to Him.” Her eyes lit with passion. “Don’t you think God will honor that pledge and give me the strength to do whatever He’s called me to? Even if I travel to the West?”

He let out a ragged breath. If he took her and she ended up dying, how could he live with himself? “The trip is just too dangerous. I shouldn’t have asked you. The Mission Board shouldn’t have forced me to ask
any
woman.”

“I might not be the ideal candidate, but I’m much stronger than you know.”

He slapped on his hat, yanked open the door, and stepped outside. The blast of cool air was a welcome relief, a reminder of the sweet air in the mountains, the beauty of the West, the freshness of a new life, the passion to help a group of people he’d grown to love—all that he would give up if he walked away from Priscilla.

She followed him onto the verandah. Her fingers circled his forearm, and she tugged him around until he had no choice but to face her. “Remember, we are in agreement that if the rigors of life in the West are unsuitable for a woman, you shall send me home.”

The muscles in his arm relaxed, and the earnestness in her eyes beckoned him to rationalize the situation. “You’re right. If it’s too dangerous, I’ll find a way for you to return home.”

If he gave the Board’s foolhardy plan a try and it didn’t work out, they wouldn’t be able to fault him. ’Course he’d do everything he could to protect her and make sure she survived the long trip. But he wouldn’t hesitate to send her back if she couldn’t handle the difficulties of living in the West. He would find a ship to take her home around the continent. He could even find a way to have their marriage annulled and give her the chance to start over again with someone else.

She gave him a wavering smile. “Then it’s settled. We shall get married next Sabbath eve.”

“Next Sabbath eve.” He could only pray that for both their sakes he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

I
f she looked into anyone else’s tear-filled eyes, she wouldn’t be able to finish her solo.

Priscilla shifted her gaze out the meetinghouse window to the darkening Sabbath sky, to the wisps of pink cirrus clouds that reflected the setting sun.

“‘Yes, my native land! I love thee,’” she sang. Her fingers dug into the satiny ripples of her black bombazine dress, her wedding dress, the most fashionable her mother could have tailored on such short notice.

“All thy scenes I love them well;

Friends, connections, happy country,

Can I bid you all farewell?”

Her voice wobbled, and the ache in her heart threatened to squeeze her throat closed. When she’d picked the hymn, she hadn’t realized that it would be so difficult to sing and the words would bring her friends and family to tears.

Since this was her last time to be with them before she left, she’d wanted the song to be her farewell. But she hadn’t known how hard it would be to say good-bye.

She took a deep breath and lifted her voice to finish. “‘Can I leave you, far in heathen lands to dwell?’”

When the strains of her song faded, the silence of the sanctuary was punctuated with sniffles.

She couldn’t stop from glancing at Mother and Mary Ann in the front pew. Tears trickled down their cheeks, and they dabbed at them with handkerchiefs. She could picture herself and Mary Ann as little girls, holding hands and skipping behind their mother, always so excited whenever she allowed them to accompany her as she delivered Bibles and food to the poor. Mother had been an exemplary model and had taught all of them well what it meant to serve the Lord.

Priscilla would miss Mother and Mary Ann dreadfully.

The tightness in her throat brought a sting to her eyes. She couldn’t cry here. Not now. Not during her wedding ceremony.

The soft warmth of Eli’s fingers circled hers.

At the unexpected touch, her breath hitched.

He pressed gently and offered her a small smile—one that brimmed with sympathy. The gentleness of his expression and of his touch spread to her heart, wrapping it with pleasure.

A tremor of excitement threaded through her. Yes, she ached at the thought of leaving everyone and everything she held dear. But she was standing next to a strong man, pledging herself to him, and getting ready to embark on the adventure of her lifetime.

A month ago, who would have guessed she’d be getting married—a dream that had died the day Dr. Baldwin had told her she’d likely never be able to bear her own children. And who would have thought that she’d be heading into the uncivilized lands of the West to start a mission, that she’d be among the first white women to venture such a trip?

Eli arched one eyebrow at her, as if asking if she was ready to continue.

She smiled and nodded. In the deepest places of her heart, she knew she was more than ready to embark upon a new life with him.

Her life wouldn’t include India, but perhaps God had provided something better for her. Eli had such resolute convictions about his mission and a desire to love the Indians. Surely she would be able to help him and do great things for the Lord.

Reverend Lull wiped the moisture from his eyes. “Time for you to exchange your vows.”

Eli positioned himself so that he was facing her, and then he reached for her other hand so their fingers were meshed together between them.

Her heart dipped and resumed beating at double speed. For a man of his ruggedness, the smoothness of his touch was something she doubted she would ever get used to. It sent a shiver up her arm and down her spine.

“I, Elijah Ernest, take thee, Priscilla White, to be my wedded wife.” His words were soft and his eyes sincere.

A thrill of wonder wound through her.

“And I do promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be thy loving and faithful husband; in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

He almost sounded as if he meant the words, that he wanted her as a real wife and not just a business partner. For a few minutes, it wouldn’t hurt to pretend they were going to have a real marriage. Would it?

“I, Priscilla White, take thee, Elijah Ernest, to be my wedded husband.”

The intensity within the depths of his blue eyes captured her and drew her in. Was he thinking the same thing—that they could be more than partners?

“I do promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be thy loving and faithful wife; in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

If she was only a business partner, what did her vows mean? What would happen if life in the West was too hard? If she had to return home, what would happen to their marriage?

“Do you have a ring?” Reverend Lull whispered to Eli.

He let go of her hands and patted his waistcoat. For a moment, he fumbled within the layers until his hand emerged with a thin silver band, a delicately engraved pattern of rose swirls covering it.

His eyes shone, and something within them told her he’d had the ring specially made for her, that he’d sacrificed of the little he had to provide this gift for her.

She lifted her hand and willed it not to shake.

Slowly he slid the ring onto her finger, his pupils growing wider with the descent of the band.

“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Reverend Lull said. “Dr. Ernest, you may kiss your bride.”

Eli’s gaze dropped to her lips, and the blue of his eyes all but disappeared behind the darkness of obvious desire.

Her stomach fluttered. And when he inclined his face toward hers, she couldn’t breathe.

Would he really dare to kiss her here in front of everyone? But how could he not? Not when it was expected of him.

The warmth of his breath hovered against her lips for only an instant before his mouth captured hers decisively.

His lips melted against hers like honey butter, devouring her startled gasp.

For an exquisite moment, she savored the sweet taste of his lips upon hers and marveled at the tenderness of his intimate touch and how it seemed to reach all the way down to her stomach and tingle there.

Then, just as quickly as he’d started the kiss, he ended it, pulling away from her and putting a firm distance between them.

She straightened and tried to restore strength to her weak knees, surprised at the wild beating of her heart.

What had it all meant? The tender passion of his kiss? And her unlikely reaction? Was it possible they would eventually develop feelings for each other?

His gaze caught hers, and the apology there reminded her of their agreement.

Inwardly she chided herself, hoping she wasn’t blushing in embarrassment. She might have allowed herself to pretend they were embarking on a real marriage. But she’d do well to never forget they had agreed upon a partnership. And nothing more.

“You must fulfill your wifely duties.” Mother’s voice was as unyielding as each stroke of the brush in Priscilla’s long hair.

She wanted to sneak under the bed. At least the cool darkness of the upstairs bedroom hid the flames on her face.

“I conceived on my wedding night.” Mary Ann folded back the covers on the double bed Priscilla had shared with her younger sister since they were girls.

Mother glared at Mary Ann before smoothing Priscilla’s hair and sliding the brush through it again. “As unpleasant as the duty may be, you must never withhold yourself from your husband.”

Priscilla ducked her head. She supposed it was every mother’s responsibility to prepare her daughter for the marriage bed, but Mother needn’t worry. Hadn’t Eli said they wouldn’t consummate?

She shivered and pulled the robe tighter around the frilly nightgown Mary Ann had insisted she don. What if he changed his mind?

The taste of his kiss still lingered on her lips. It had been anything but unpleasant. If he planned on giving her more kisses like that, why would she want to withhold herself?

Of course, he hadn’t looked at her since Reverend Lull had pronounced them man and wife. He’d found plenty of others to talk to and was, at that moment, locked away in the den with Father and Reverend Lull.

“Don’t worry.” Mary Ann rubbed her hand across the swell of her stomach. “Once you’re with child, you’ll get a break.”

“I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” she murmured, wishing she could just tell them to cease speaking about the matter altogether. At least Mary Ann would never have to know the truth. She’d be far away from the questions once it was time for her to conceive and didn’t.

Mother stepped in front of her and narrowed her eyes in examination. She drew a strand of Priscilla’s hair around to the front and adjusted the wave so it hung down and almost touched her waist. “There. You must bear your wifely burden with both beauty and dignity.”

Mary Ann leaned in and placed a kiss on Priscilla’s cheek. “You look as beautiful as always.”

Priscilla reached for Mary Ann’s hand before she could back away and clasped it between hers. “I couldn’t have gotten ready this past week without your help. Thank you.”

Mary Ann just gave her a sad, tired smile.

Priscilla reached for Mother’s hand and put it to her lips. “And thank you, Mother. For everything.”

Mother’s eyes glistened, and she quickly shook her head. “We’ll have plenty of time for good-byes in the morning.”

After they left the room, Priscilla sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the closed door. Her stomach clinched. What would Eli say when he opened the door and saw her waiting for him?

Should she climb under the covers and wait there? Or would that be even more presumptuous?

The glass oil lamp on the chest of drawers cast a pale light over the bedroom, over the flower print on the washbasin and the lace on the curtains.

Her gaze touched each familiar item, and her heart lingered wistfully, saying good-bye to everything she’d always known. And to her childhood.

This would be her last night. She’d overheard Eli telling others they would need to leave on the morrow to retrieve John and Richard, among other stops, before they began their journey by sleigh to Pittsburgh.

And even though Mother had once again protested the hurried departure, Priscilla had no doubt Mother and Mary Ann would be up most of the night finishing the last stitches on the serviceable dresses they’d started making that week.

Priscilla fingered the squares in the quilt. And they’d likely pack the small trunk Mary Ann had agreed to give her.

She’d wanted to help with the preparations, but they’d insisted she spend her wedding night with her husband. And now, faced with the possibility of being in the same room as Eli all night long, she was tempted to slip back into her dress.

The squeak of the steps and the distinct scuff of his boots sent her heart into a downward tumble. She smoothed her hair and folded her hands in her lap.

The door swung open.

She straightened and tried to keep breathing.

He stepped inside and kicked the door closed with his heel. He glanced around the room, taking in everything but her.

His hair was in tousled disarray, and the scruff on his face was dark in the shadows of the room. He leaned against the door and gripped the handle. He focused on his boots and said nothing.

Her stomach pinched tighter. Should she stand up and go to him? Or should she let him make the first move?

“Your mother practically forced me up the stairs. I guess, whether we want to or not, we’ll have to stay in the same room.”

She nodded.

Only then did he glance at her. His eyes widened. “Almighty Lord, help me,” he breathed, fumbling at the door handle.

She rose from the bed. “Don’t leave,” she whispered.

His gaze swept over her. “Sweet, sweet Lord.”

“If anyone needs to leave, let me.”

“You’re . . . you’re absolutely . . .” The brightness of his eyes lingered over the strand of hair tumbling across her chest.

She glanced down. Her robe had fallen open, and all that shielded her body from his probing eyes was the thin linen and lace of her nightgown. Heat swirled through her, and she fumbled to pull her robe closed.

When his eyes lifted to meet hers, something in their depths sent a different kind of heat pulsing through her, the same sweet tingle in her stomach that she’d had when he’d kissed her.

“You’d better get in bed.” His whisper was gruff, and he wrenched his eyes away.

With a pounding heart, she groped for the covers and somehow managed to slide under them. The coolness soothed her flushed skin.

He stepped over to the lamp, cupped his hand over the globe, and puffed out the flame.

The blackness of the night surrounded her and sent more strange tingles through her middle until she trembled.

A thunk on the hardwood floor—one discarded boot—was followed by another thunk—the other boot.

She chewed at her bottom lip. Would he undress here? Now?

At the soft slither of linen against skin, she scrunched her eyes closed. He was indeed taking off his clothes.

Of course, in the complete darkness of the room she couldn’t see even his outline, but that didn’t stop her from imagining the slow shed of his shirt.