The Bride's Scarred Love (Mail-Order Bride)
CONTENTS
Chapter One - Broken Dreams
Chapter Two - The Prisoner
Chapter Three - Blind Love
Chapter Four - An Unfortunate Incident
Chapter Five - A Bleak Future
Chapter Six - The Exciting Adventure
Chapter Seven - The Weary Cowboy
Chapter Eight - Daydreaming
Chapter Nine - The Knowing Smile
Chapter Ten - Missing
Chapter Eleven - Things happen for a Reason
Chapter Twelve - Happy Endings
Chapter Thirteen - Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
Broken Dreams
1870, New York
"Papa, please, you can't do this," the distraught seventeen-year-old girl cried, her blue eyes filled with misery.
"I've made my decision," the baritone voice came from the tall man with thick brown hair graying at the sides, blue eyes, and a mustache covering his upper lip. He was staring out the French windows with a solemn look on his face.
Ruth took tentative steps towards him, for her father was a man to be greatly feared. He had a bad temper and when he was irate, it was best not to get too close to him.
"Papa, please. I can't marry Mr. Jones. Please don't do this to me," she pleaded with tears streaming down her lovely face.
"You don't have a say in this matter, Ruth. In about three weeks, you'll be married to him and that's it." There was a note of finality in his voice that brought all the more despair to his young daughter for she knew that to continue arguing with him would be futile.
She turned to the woman who was seated on a rocking chair in the parlor. She had been knitting but upon hearing what her husband was saying to her daughter, shock had numbed her hands and she had to put down her knitting. Ruth’s features matched those of the older woman who was in her late fifties.
Ruth squatted beside her mother, her eyes pleading for her help.
"Mama, please help me. I don't even want to marry just yet but if I must, please not to that man." Her desperate plea touched her mother's heart to the point that she had to blink back tears. She raised troubled eyes to look at the stiff figure of her husband by the window and, softening her voice, she said,
"Dear, could you please reconsider? I mean--"
Stephen Belmont turned to fix angry eyes on his wife and daughter. His features were taut with annoyance that they dare assume to question him.
"No, Margaret, I will do no such thing. Ruth will marry David Jones. Nothing you say or do will change my mind!"
And with those harshly spoken words, he strode out of the parlor, leaving the two females to stare at him despondently.
Ruth lifted her tear-filled eyes to her mother's gray ones.
"I’ll jump in the East River before that day," she declared, sobbing and placed her head in her mother's lap.
Margaret patted her daughter's beautiful dark hair which fell over her shoulders and down her back.
"Hush now, child. You will do no such thing. I will talk to your papa and he will see reason that you cannot marry that...that horrible man," she comforted but she knew that even as she said those words, there might be nothing she would be able to do about it.
Stephen Belmont was an overbearing man and his word was law in his home even though it displeased everyone who lived in it. But Margaret knew she had to try. She had to try to convince her husband that David Jones wasn't a good match for their daughter. He was more than twice Ruth's age, for crying out loud!
"Mama, please do everything you can," Ruth stated with desperation.
"I know, Ruth. I'll try my best," she declared.
They heard a carriage leaving. They assumed that after his announcement, Stephen was probably going to tell Mr. Jones he had told his daughter and she was in agreement. Overcome with grief that her mother might not succeed over her overbearing father, Ruth rose, lifted her sea blue dress with yellow ruffles and carried her slim frame from the parlor up the stairs to her room. She flung open the door and fell on the bed as sobs shook her body.
She couldn't believe this was happening to her. She couldn't believe she was being forced to marry a much older man. Had the man been pleasant, it might not have seemed as bad, but Mr. Jones was an arrogant man and from what she had heard of him, a terrible drinker.
Ruth didn't care that he was handsome. She cared that her dream of marrying for love had been irrevocably shattered. There was no way she would grow to love him, so it didn't bear thinking of.
And she would have to leave this house. A home she had known for seventeen years. Had she been marrying for love, she wouldn't have minded.
Later that evening, Margaret gently approached her husband on the issue. They had retired to their bedroom after spending some time in the drawing room after dinner. She had wanted to broach the topic right there but feared it exploding into a shouting match to which their servants would be privy.
She twirled her hands in discomfiture as she watched him undress.
"Dear, please reconsider this marriage agreement with Mr. Jones. It's quite sudden and Ruth isn't yet ready to marry, at least not to a man as old and as despicable as him."
Her husband ignored her, bent on removing his clothes for the night.
"The man is 45 years old!" he shouted and turned on her so abruptly that she feared the fierceness in his eyes. He was very strict, but he had never lashed out at her in all their years of marriage; she did however fear he might do so at that moment. She shrank back in fear.
"Are you stupid, woman? Can't you understand how we've experienced financial troubles because of the sudden gold rush and relocations to the West? You know the store hasn't been doing well lately and we're on the brink of bankruptcy. We might lose this magnificent house and everything we own."
He let that sink in before calmly adding, "Mr. Jones is a wealthy banker."
"Oh," Margaret said as the reality of his intentions dawned on her, "You're going to sell our daughter to the highest bidder?" she dared, her anger overcoming her fear.
Her husband froze and his face tensed.
"Don't you ever say that to me again," he warned with deadly calm.
She was past caring, appalled at the reason behind the sudden proposal from a man that was old enough to have fathered her daughter. "Why shouldn't I? Isn't that what you're about to do? To sell my daughter off to that...that man?"
"Keep quiet, woman!" he warned ferociously, wagging a finger, "or I'll tan your hide!"
Margaret blanched at the threat and tears came to her eyes and rolled down her face.
She raised her chin defiantly. "I'd rather live in starvation and poverty than give my daughter to be wed to that man, even if he has all the money in the world."
"Suit yourself. The banns will be announced in the newspaper tomorrow."
Weeping, Margaret left the room and walked down the corridor to her daughter's room. Ruth was standing by the window, having not bothered to attend dinner. A draft of wind made the curtains dance around her and she stood with her arms around herself, looking forlorn. She glanced over her shoulder at her mother's slow entrance into the room. The tears and hopelessness in her mother’s eyes told her all she needed to know; that all hope was lost.
She turned away from the window and ran into the woman's outstretched arms. They wept together. They both knew they had no say in the matter and come what may, Ruth would marry David Jones.
**********
David Jones smiled with deep satisfaction as he saw the announcement in the local newspaper. The announcement carried the news of his engagement to Stephen Belmont's daughter, Ruth. He replaced the paper on his desk and
leaned back in his chair, smiling.
Ruth Belmont.
He remembered seeing Ruth about a month before at a society gathering. He remembered how he had been about to raise his glass of port to his lips while in discussion with a fellow banker, when his gaze settled on Ruth, looking fetching in a yellow dress trimmed with blue lace.
Her skin was like pale porcelain, her black hair as dark as midnight and her face such that a man wouldn't mind gazing on it. His arrested gaze had held until she moved from his view, but that had not stopped him enquiring after her.
"Who's that fetching girl?" he asked his companion, nodding in Ruth's direction as she moved away.
His companion smiled. "Why, that's Stephen Belmont's daughter. She's quite a beauty to behold, isn't she?"
"Indeed, she is," he concurred and tossed back the port in his glass, his eyes intent with purpose.
After leaving the party, he had called upon his private investigator.
"I want to know anything and everything about Stephen Belmont. All I know is that he owns a supply store and has a beautiful daughter. Find out more," he had instructed the short, thin man with the beak-like nose and small brown eyes.
David had waited impatiently for information on Stephen Belmont. He was a man who loved to plan and prepare before a meeting, otherwise he wouldn't have been a wealthy partner in a bank.
He wanted Ruth for a wife, and he would have her. He always got his way, no matter what. He was drawn by her beauty and after their wedding she would bear him a handsome son who would be his heir. What more could he ask?
His gray eyes danced with anticipation and glee at the thought of marrying and putting a son inside her. He was euphoric when his private investigator came back with what he termed good news about Stephen Belmont.
"He's heavily in debt," he had read from the report and burst into joyous laughter.
"Set up a meeting with him," he instructed the man and planned all he would say when they met.
Stephen Belmont, he saw, had been surprised by the visit from the wealthy man. David, not one to beat around the bush, got straight to the business of the day after looking disdainfully at the man's near empty store.
"I want to marry your daughter and in return I will pay you a large sum of money."
Stephen's eyes had reflected anger. His jaw had clenched. "Who do you think you are, coming in here to make such an outrageous statement?"
David had smiled easily, like a man in control. Because that was in actuality what he was. He looked the man straight in the eyes and without mincing words said, "The man who will get you out of your overwhelming debts."
Stephen's eyes had lifted in surprise before narrowing suspiciously. "How do you know about my debts?"
"I make it my business to know many things, Mr. Belmont, particularly when I have an interest."
He rose fluidly from the chair, put his hands behind his back and paced the small office.
"I need a son and heir. That is very important to me. You see, I'm a wealthy man without an heir to my wealth. I want us to come to an arrangement. I will pay you a huge sum of money which will more than cover all your debts and keep you from bankruptcy and, in turn, you will give me your daughter's hand in marriage. I do not have all the time in the world, so I'd appreciate your answer to my proposal as a matter of urgency. Send word to me at my residence in the morning."
He knew Stephen would agree to his proposal. Stephen was a business man barely managing to stay afloat and if acquiring a wealthy son-in-law was the solution, David was certain Stephen would take it. So he wasn't particularly surprised when his potential father-in-law's note came the following morning, accepting his proposal.
David had smiled and sent word back that all his debt would be settled on the wedding day which would be three weeks hence. He would handle all the wedding arrangements. It was only left for Stephen to inform his daughter of their intended marriage.
He smiled self-satisfactorily and poured himself a healthy dose of brandy.
**********
Despite it being summer and fairly humid, Ruth shivered on the morning she stood before the altar and made vows she didn't mean. Her husband had been clearly irritated that her vows had been purposefully inaudible, but she didn't care. She may be marrying into money, but she was only doing so to please her father. She had not an ounce of feeling for her husband, not even hatred. It would take too much emotion to hate him, so she settled for indifference.
Although she had tried, she had been unable to even talk to him. She had only seen him once before standing beside him at the altar on their wedding day, at the society gathering at which she had heard gossip concerning him which had not raised her interest, causing her to remove herself from the gossipers. He looked handsome with his dark but slightly graying hair, dull gray eyes, pointed nose and thin lips; he was tall enough to look down his haughty nose at her, but she avoided his gaze at every turn. Her father wasn't happy at the tears in her eyes but if he was expecting her to smile, he would have a long wait. Her mother also had tears in her eyes.
That night, she rolled over in bed and wept at what her life had become.
"You can cry all you want," he harshly admonished from the other side of the bed. "All I want from you is a son. The sooner you give me that, the better for you, you cold fish."
Ruth wept harder.
CHAPTER TWO
The Prisoner
However Ruth imagined marriage to David would be, it was nothing as expected. Of course, she hadn’t expected romance but neither had she expected to be ignored. Her husband saw her as an addition to the expensive pieces in their parlor. He left very early each day for the bank and there he remained all day. He visited home for dinner after which he left for the bar room. He would return late into the night smelling like a distillery. She had heard about his fondness for the bottles, but the reality was worse than she had imagined. Swallowing her misgivings, she decided to raise the matter after he stumbled home that night.
Ruth waited with anxiety at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a white gown which hung from neck to toe. The carved oak front door slammed shut and the hinges quaked. It didn’t bode well for the talk, but she didn’t allow it to deter her. Her chin thrust out in defiance when his gray eyes darkened at the sight of her.
His dark hair was on end indicating that he had run his fingers repeatedly through it with hands probably wet with whiskey. His clothes were wrinkled and rumpled, and his shoes were dusty. He looked not at all like the respected banker he pretended to be by the light of day.
His gray eyes trailed her dark tresses which were severely tied back at her neck, along her white gown, down to her dainty slippers. Ruth gasped at the disgust she read in his gray depths and she wondered what she had done to deserve the disdainful glare.
His lips curled in a derisive sneer. “To what do I owe the honor of you staying awake for me to come home, when I know you’re an annoying early bird?”
Flustered, she looked down at her hands and laced them before lifting her blue eyes filled with discomfit at him.
“I want to talk to you,” she informed him, hoping his drunken state would open him to listen to her. She wondered for a second if she should have waited until the following morning when he was clear headed. No, most mornings found him in a bad mood, hung over from the night’s imbibing. Besides, he barely spoke to her.
He threw back his head and laughter bubbled from his chest and out his throat. Ruth’s color heightened and her right hand trailed the left sleeve of her dress with unease over and over again. His laugh stopped abruptly, and he staggered to her, upon which she appeared ready to turn tail and run up the stairs out of his sight. It took all her will power to remain standing as he approached in what seemed like a strange dance as he tried to keep his steps steady. If she ran away now, she would never have courage to face him again.
The horrid smell of alcohol hit her nostrils as he drew closer and she took a step back, irritated by the smell that ma
de her want to purge the contents of her stomach all over his expensive shoes. His brows rose at her slight movement and his unsteady gaze darkened.
“What do you want? Money?”
She shook her head. The tip of her tongue came out to lightly touch her lower lip in a gesture of nervousness.
“I don’t think this lifestyle is healthy for you. I…” her words trailed to a stop when she noticed his eyes darkening in anger, but she had to continue. She lifted her chin and did just that, “You visit the bars every night and come home drunk. I…I know this isn’t a conventional marriage but…but I’m concerned at the harm you’re causing yourself. I don’t think you should be at the bar every night and…and you shouldn’t drink quite so much spirits. I’m not a doctor but I don’t think it’s healthy.”
A small cry escaped her lips when without warning his hand circled her upper arm and tightened. He tugged her towards him, and his acrid breath fanned her nostrils, causing her to hold her breath for some seconds.
“Don’t you ever question the way I live my life ever again,” he threatened dangerously. “Your only purpose in this house is to give me a son. You’ve been bought and paid for, therefore you have no say in my house.”
Tears glistened in her eyes as his hand tautened on her arm. She bit her bottom lip until she could taste blood, just to keep herself from crying out. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting her. She did however have to beg to be released when his hand tightened even more. It would definitely cause a bruise, for she bruised easily.
“Please,” she pleaded with desperate eyes. “You’re hurting me.”
His mouth widened into a smile of satisfaction. “Will you dare question my lifestyle again?”
Her head hastily moved from side to side.
“I can’t hear you.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No sir.”
His hand squeezed her arm wickedly before he let go and pushed her away with a grunt. He climbed unsteadily up the stairs, leaving her to sit heavily on a step as she let her dammed discontent flow. Her tears fell heavily on her hands clasped before her as she tried to control her flailing emotions.