The Bride's Scarred Love (Mail-Order Bride) Read online

  “Oh Papa, what have you done to me?” she whispered brokenly.

  Her unhappiness tugged at her heart and brought despair to her soul. She had the magnificent house to herself, servants to attend to her every need, the finest of dresses and the choicest meals but she was more miserable than the poor who lived in the slums. They were better off than her. At least she didn’t imagine they were as lonely as she was. Her marriage felt like a prison with no escape. Her heart yearned to run away but where would she go? She had no money and her husband was too wealthy. He would find her in no time and force her to return to the house, where there was no telling what he would do to her. There was no escape for her. The thought of leaving her mother was also unbearable, for she was the only person on whom she could now rely. No words passed between her and her father whatsoever whenever she called on her mother.

  Deciding that her case was totally helpless, Ruth dragged herself up the stairs to her room. Passing by her husband’s room, she heard the loud snores and cringed. He had no trouble falling asleep after causing her so much pain. She got to her room and lifted the lantern in place after loosening the buttons on her dress and allowing it to fall to her feet. The nasty red mark on her arm didn’t come as a surprise to her. Slow steps took her to the large brown chest of drawers from whence she brought out the poultice her mother had given her. Wincing, she applied it to her arm and her tears started falling again.

  She turned away and her wet eyes took in her room which was much bigger than her room in her father’s house. The spacious room contained an imposing four-poster bed, a large chest of drawers, curtains of the finest silk and a table and chair to one side. She hated the room that was decorated in dark and dull colors, unlike her room in her father’s house that was bright and uplifting. She climbed into the bed and closed her eyes.

  Her sleep was wistful that night, filled with nightmares of David chasing her around the large house and shouting at the top of his voice, which greatly frightened her.

  “Are you barren?” he yelled. “Why haven’t you conceived?”

  A hand shook her out of the dream as she kept muttering for David to please stop hurting her.

  “Mistress! Mistress!”

  Ruth’s eyes fluttered open. Her maid Susie was staring at her with intense worry in her eyes. Ruth’s complexion became a rosy hue as she took in the scattered bed and rumpled sheets around her legs.

  “Beggin’ ya pardon, ma’am but you were talkin’ something fierce in ya sleep. I had to wake you. Is mornin’ and Master David be wantin’ to have breakfast with ya.”

  David demanded she breakfast with him every morning. It wasn’t because he enjoyed her company; he loved the fact that she had to wake up at the crack of dawn to do so, because he left very early and he forbade her to return to bed when he left.

  Sighing, she got out of bed and allowed Susie to help her wash and hurriedly dress. There was, however, nothing her maid could do about the bags and puffiness underneath her eyes after a night of weeping.

  “Why are you late?” her husband snapped immediately she got to the table and pulled out a chair.

  She avoided his gaze and said, “I overslept. I’m sorry.”

  His features became menacing. “A simple task you have to do every morning and you fail at it. Makes me wonder where else you’re useless. You had better not fail in doing the job I paid for or else…” He let his words hang and bit into his sweet roll.

  “Or else what?” she asked tentatively when he didn’t continue.

  He smiled at her. It was filled with threats. “Give me what I most desire and you’ll never know.”

  A shiver went up Ruth’s spine at his words. Would she ever be free from this man? She doubted it. The thought that she would be miserable for the rest of her life made her lose her appetite.

  “How do you hope to be with child soon when you eat like a bird?” he snapped with a voice that sounded like thunder, and it startled her. Her eyes elevated to his angry ones and she quickly looked away.

  “You need meat on your bones for you to be able to carry my son. I gather that you didn’t have enough to eat in your father’s house, but you have enough to feed the whole of New York here, so I don’t expect you to waste my food.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and flung his napkin on the table after dabbing his mouth with it.

  “You will eat five times a day from now on. I will instruct the cook to serve you dishes of the choicest meals and you must eat every morsel. If I get a report that the meals are returned without you cleaning the plates when I return from the bank, I’ll force feed you and I don’t care if you choke. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered and also nodded for good measure so he could go to the bank and leave her alone to have respite for a few hours.

  “Oh Papa, you don’t know what you’ve done,” she cried softly after her husband left.

  He threw insults at her father at every turn and it hurt her, for Papa was a hardworking man whose bad business decisions had caused him to borrow heavily from the bank. It still hurt her to think her father had used her as a means to settle his debts. She hadn’t known the nature of the agreement between David and her father before the wedding. There was a time she had thought her father had made the arrangement because he wanted her to be married to a wealthy man so she wouldn’t suffer poverty, but David hadn’t failed to disabuse her of that notion when he brought her home on the day of her wedding. He had enjoyed telling her how he had settled her father’s debts so he could marry her, and she could bear him a son. Angry, she had called her new husband a liar, saying no matter how overbearing her father was, he would never do that to her but the smugness in David’s eyes had told her she was only arguing so she wouldn’t believe what she knew might be true. Her eyes had watered as David had mocked and insulted her father. This became a routine whenever he was angry with her.

  Ruth quickly wiped away her tears and sniffed when a maid appeared to clear the table. She turned away when the maid removed her barely touched breakfast. Her mother had taught her that no matter what happened in the house, it was best to keep it from the servants to avoid them gossiping. Ruth would have felt even more terrible had she seen the look of pity the maid bestowed on her before departing from the room.

  Ruth went back to her room and lay on her bed. She usually spent her day knitting or crocheting, some days she spent calling on her friends or her mother. But she didn’t feel like doing anything but cry all day, so she indulged herself. Her pillows were still wet with tears when a maid announced that her friends had come calling. Appalled that they would see her puffy eyes, red nose and pale pallor, she jumped from the bed, forgetting that even the maid wasn’t supposed to see all that. She hurried to wash her face and slapped and pinched her cheeks to bring some color into them. A fake smile was plastered on her face when she descended the stairs and walked slowly to the drawing room. At the door, she paused and closed her eyes. Letting out a deep breath, she pushed the doors open with the same fake smile on her face.

  After her first misgivings about her friends discovering her secret in her eyes, Ruth relaxed and enjoyed herself. She fibbed to them that she had a headache and ignored the looks that indicated that they knew that she didn’t. Her friends told her how lucky she was to be living with such wealth, wishing they were in her shoes. Ruth’s face ached from the false smile she had to keep up, but she didn’t stop the pretense. Her friends marveled at the size of the house and all the servants in attendance. They had no idea that she would rather be in their shoes than married to David.

  Their carriage was just pulling away when her husband’s carriage pulled up in front of the house while she was waving them farewell with a genuine smile on her face. Her hand involuntarily flew to her chest when he alighted from the gold carriage with livid eyes. He roughly took her arm and marched her into the house.

  He rounded on her as soon as they were inside. “Who were you waving at for the whole street to
see?”

  Ruth stared down at her hands. “My friends, Lily and Rose.”

  “Tell them never to call on you again. You will also never call on them.”

  Her head jerked upright as her eyes widened. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  He strode towards the stairs and she rushed after him. “Why?”

  He swung to fix cold eyes on her. “Because I say so. The only person you’re allowed to call on is your mother. She seems a sensible woman.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I own you and I’ll do whatever I please with you. Instead of gossiping with your friends all day, spend the time knitting clothes for my child.” And with that, he turned on his heels and climbed the stairs.

  Horror filled eyes followed him up the stairs until he was out of view.

  “I’m a prisoner; his prisoner,” Ruth whispered as if only just realizing it.

  Dashing to the front door, she threw it open and ran down the stairs, ignoring the fact that she had neither a wrap nor a reticule. She climbed into the carriage and told the coachman to take her to Hyde Street where she had lived before her horrible marriage to David.

  Ruth flew out of the carriage even before it came to a stop. Lifting her skirts, she climbed the stairs and hit the knocker continually against the wooden door. A maid opened the door and she asked after her mother’s whereabouts. The woman she sought came out of the drawing room with alarm in her eyes before the maid could answer.

  “Ruth! What’s wrong?”

  Ruth threw herself on her mother and wept hysterically. Her mother comforted her and led her into the drawing room, already fully aware of how miserable her daughter was. Since there was nothing she or her daughter could do about it, she calmed the uncontrollably weeping girl and told her all she had to do was endure and maybe someday, she would find joy in her children. Ruth didn’t believe she would ever find joy in that house, not while David lived there.

  Begrudgingly, she accepted her mother’s advice to go back to her husband. What choice did she have anyway? Without saying a word to her father who arrived home through the front door just as she made to open it, she traipsed down the stairs and into the carriage to be returned to the house she hated with a passion.

  She just stepped foot in the house when a pitch-black void enveloped her, and she fell on the ground with a thud.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Blind Love

  “Mistress!” Susie shouted as she hurriedly descended the stairs. She had been surprised to find her mistress missing from her room when she went to help her prepare for dinner. She had searched the house in vain and was contemplating how she might relate the news to her ornery master, waiting to dine with his wife.

  Susie ran to Ruth as she fluttered to the ground like a feather. She knelt beside the unconscious girl. She gently shook Ruth who had turned white as a sheet. Susie’s hand shook with fear, thinking her mistress might have visited an apothecary for the means to end her miserable life.

  “What’s going on? Why are you hollering all over the place?” David asked as he strode casually into the hall with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

  With tears in her lowered eyes, she told him, “Beggin’ ya pardon, sir, but the missus just fainted.”

  David, in an unhurried manner, walked over to the unconscious heap that was his wife, and kicked at her shoulder with his banker’s shoe.

  “Get up, Ruth. I don’t have time for this fake performance,” he snapped. When Ruth remained unresponsive with her maid weeping silently beside her, he poured his whiskey over her and watched with satisfaction as her blue dress soaked up the spirits.

  Ruth’s obstinately unresponsive form only increased her husband’s ire and he kicked at her in earnest. Susie’s hand instantly flew to her mouth to clamp it shut and keep her from shouting out, afraid that she might be next to suffer a kick in the ribs. David kicked resolutely at his wife, shouting for her to get up and that he wouldn’t change his mind about her visiting with her friends. Cursing, he went on his knees when she failed to respond, handed the bottle to Susie and felt his wife’s forehead and wrist.

  Confused, he asked, “What do you reckon is wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Fetch the doctor,” he ordered and abruptly rose to his feet, leaving them to have his dinner.

  The doctor came. David, after having a sumptuous meal, reluctantly carried Ruth up to her room just before the doctor arrived. With his smelling salts, the doctor was able to revive her and asked her questions which she found odd. He was smiling when he packed his medical equipment back in his bag.

  “What’s wrong with me, Doctor?” she asked, afraid that she might have caught a deadly disease, yet happy that it would end her unhappy marriage.

  The elderly man offered her a smile. “You’re with child, my dear.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?’

  “Congratulations. Now, you need a lot of rest and nourishment.”

  A smile, one that hadn’t graced her face in a long while, burst out and Ruth found herself laughing with joy. Her hand encased her still flat stomach, and love for her unborn child blossomed within her. It didn’t matter that the father of her baby was more or less a monster, she was just glad at the news of her baby. She had always dreamed of having children, always dreamed of her house filled with laughing little ones. Being an only child after her mother had suffered four stillborns, Ruth had always yearned for a sibling.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, still smiling.

  The man nodded. “Send someone to fetch me if you feel unwell.”

  She nodded and the man left the room. Ruth was still basking in the euphoria of being pregnant when her husband came into the room. He looked really pleased and for the first time in their marriage, they shared a smile.

  The smile, however, was wiped off Ruth’s face when David said into the silence that slid between them, “It better be a boy.”

  To be honest, Ruth didn’t want a boy. She wanted a girl with whom she could play and entwine her hair with ribbons of various colors. She kept her thoughts to herself, though.

  Ruth had a relatively easy pregnancy without morning sickness to disturb her, and she was in the best of health. The cook sent meals to her five times a day and, for fear that her husband might actually carry out his threat, she ate every morsel. Only her growing stomach gave her joy and drowned out the loneliness. David had forbidden her friends from calling on her or her visiting them. She lost her friends. She felt so isolated, only able to see her mother when David allowed. Knitting tiny clothes for her baby kept her busy all day even though she didn’t see much of her husband which was a good thing because of his abusive presence. He no longer insulted her or her father but had reverted to suggesting she pray that she was carrying a male child and not a worthless daughter. Due to his incessant talk about wanting a son, Ruth began to pray that it was a boy nestling in her womb, dreading what her husband might do to her and the child if it turned out to be a girl.

  It was cold and raining when Ruth gave birth to her baby girl. She wept with joy when the crying baby was placed in her arms. Her love for her baby flowed in waves as she placed a kiss on her small cheek and held her tiny hand.

  Her peace with her child was disrupted when her husband burst into the room with his gray eyes flaying. He marched to the bed and roughly removed the crying infant from his wife. He gazed intently at the child.

  “So it’s true. You gave birth to a girl! You’re a worthless piece of flotsam. I told you to give me a son, a male child, not this thing who is only good for making babies!”

  Ruth’s throat bubbled as she swallowed thickly, unsure of what her husband might do to her baby. He had threatened that the baby would be thrown away if she gave birth to a girl.

  “David, please!” The cry came from the depth of her soul.

  The tension in the room was palpable enough to be cut with a knife. With their hearts in their throats
, the occupants of the room, Ruth among them, watched with trepidation as David continued surveying the baby.

  He flung the child into the outstretched hands of her new mother who sighed with relief and cooed at the crying baby. He strode out of the room cursing both his wife and his daughter to perdition. The midwife and the maids crossed themselves over and over again and gazed with pity at the young girl on the bed who was weeping with her child hugged tautly to her.

  If Ruth thought her life miserable before her pregnancy, it was nothing compared with her husband’s abusiveness after the birth of her daughter. David despised her and her very beautiful daughter and never failed to show his contempt for them whenever he was home, which was thankfully rarely these days. He seethed like a cauldron ready to boil over. Ruth kept her daughter as quiet as possible whenever he was around. If David so much as heard a whimper from her child, his fury would erupt, and he would curse them both. Ruth would place her hands over her daughter’s small ears to keep her from hearing such foul words.

  “I love you. You’re the most beautiful child in the world,” Ruth would always tell her daughter when they were alone.

  Since her husband showed no interest in his baby daughter, it was up to Ruth to name her. She named her Maisie, having always liked the name.

  Ruth enjoyed having a daughter to dote on and it gave her a new lease on life. She had a reason to wake up every morning and smile, but her smile turned into tears one day when she noticed the baby’s eyes had a white cloudy appearance. She had also noticed that no matter how much she played with Maisie, waving her hands and dancing about, the child only appeared to respond to the sound of her voice. Disturbed, she took her to the doctor where her worst fears were confirmed. After the examination, the doctor sadly shook his head. Maisie was blind; totally blind. She was born blind and nothing could be done about it.