A Keeper For Christmas (Spinster Mail-Order Brides Book 12) Read online

  “You will marry or be turned out. I have no time or money to spend on a useless female. You’re already twenty-eight, for heaven’s sakes.” He’d left her standing in the foyer with a smugly grinning William.

  The man stood and had tried to grab her hand again. She tucked both behind her skirts and moved backward toward the stairs.

  “You can run, Merrilee Mae. It won’t change the fact that we’re marrying. You heard Uncle Reggie.” Then he’d laughed a high-pitched chortle that always turned her stomach.

  That was hours ago. She’d refused to come downstairs for dinner. As punishment, her stepfather had allowed the maid to bring her only hot tea and a slice of buttered bread. No doubt, he waited in the kitchen for her to creep out of her room and forage for more food.

  Easing the door open, she spied the hallway outside her door. William sat in a chair opposite it, his head lolling onto his chest. Asleep for now, but what was their plan? Why would he wait out there?

  Quietly shutting the door, she again locked it. Since they had a plan, she needed one too.

  Miss McKinley! The note from her came at a perfect time, it seemed to Merrilee.

  Her mother’s friend had helped several women. She’d shared stories many times about the mail-order brides over tea. As Miss McKinley would elaborate on her successful matches, the woman and Merrilee’s mother usually looked meaningfully at her. Mother no doubt would wholeheartedly support her daughter marrying, even if it did seem disrespectful. After all, Mother passed away only last week.

  With a fist jammed nervously against her mouth, Merrilee looked around her room. What to do first?

  Tearing the note into five or six pieces, she dropped them into the trash basket and looked around the room. Eying her armoire, she awkwardly unbuttoned the heavy gown. Reaching inside the clothespress, she pulled out a plain woolen gown. It was a dark green and would work well at both keeping her warm and aiding her in sneaking through the darkness.

  Where the urge to escape came from Merrilee couldn’t say. Perhaps Reginald Dyer’s push to have her gone or William’s presence outside her door caused it. For whatever reason, her heart raced in panic.

  Mr. McKinley, Mother’s lawyer, had delayed the reading of the will for two more days. He’d had to make a rushed trip after receiving a telegram informing him of his only son’s terrible accident. Was it a coincidence that her stepfather began pressuring her as soon as that man left town? In the lawyer’s absence, Merrilee had no one to lean on.

  Except, perhaps, she could rely on his sister, Miss McKinley. That is if she could sneak away and reach the woman’s home. If she planned to leave, what should she take with her?

  Merrilee gathered a few warm dresses, chemises, and bloomers. She stuffed the photo of her parents as well as her brush and comb set on top of the clothing. Lastly, she shoved in her jewelry case. She couldn’t bear to leave the jewelry she’d inherited from her mother.

  Now, how would she get out of the room? Squatting before the door, Merrilee peered through the keyhole and wished a lady could use the oaths she’d heard her stepfather say. Right now she’d like to swear since she could make out William still sitting outside her door.

  No tree grew near her window and she doubted she could climb down one anyhow. Chewing nervously on the edge of her thumb, Merrilee decided to wait until morning. Perhaps while her stepfather and William were at breakfast she would be able to slip out of the house.

  Murmurs in the hall caught her attention. She replaced her eye with an ear to the keyhole.

  “You got to force her. I’ll find the key to the room and get you in there, boy. Just be ready to do the deed.”

  Reginald Dyer’s voice sounded coarse, his accent somehow changed as he spoke so easily about rape. Where was the cultured man who had wooed her mother? How could he suggest such a vile thing?

  William’s whine let her know he didn’t like his uncle’s suggestion. “I can’t. It’s hard enough for me to take a willing woman.”

  Good! He wouldn’t be a party to her rape. She sighed with relief, believing she would be safe that night. Her stepfather’s words stopped her.

  An evil laugh stripped any sense of safety from her. “I’ll get it done then. She’s had her nose in the air around me since I married her mother. Time I show her who’s the master in this house.”

  Her own stepfather! The man who had held her dying mother’s hand and promised to see that Merrilee was protected and provided for after his wife’s death. What kind of man was he!

  Struggling to control the panic that swamped her, Merrilee again considered how to escape. Her gaze darted around the room and settled on the bed.

  The sheets! Since the December air had turned chilly, she’d asked the maid to make up the bed with flannel sheets. These would be strong enough to bear her weight.

  Hurrying to yank the bedding off the mattress, she knotted sheets and blankets together. What to tie them to? That was a problem. Thin as she was, the dresser would still move across the floor when her weight pulled against it.

  The bed frame? The escritoire? Which was heavier?

  She settled on the bed since it stood nearer the window. Carefully, slowly raising the window, she cringed at a groan made by the swollen wood. Air escaped her tight lips when no one knocked on her door, demanding to know what was happening.

  Whipping her black wool cloak around her, she worked dark gloves over her fingers. Next, she looped a scarf through the handle of her valise. Tying it around her neck, the carpetbag settled against her back. With gloved hands gripping the sheets, she moved one leg out the open window and felt nothing.

  Where was the wall of the house? She had to find it to brace herself for the climb down. Could she even descend in a dress?

  Pulling her leg inside, she removed the cloak and tossed it out the window. From above, she watched it slowly float before landing in a heap on the ground.

  Dear God, please don’t let me land in a heap like that garment!

  Drawing her skirt and petticoats between her legs, she worked to fashion a sort of trousers. The bulk frustrated her. With her skirt pulled up, she removed both of her petticoats. Without them, her skirt hung down and extra material pooled around her on the floor.

  How she wished she’d followed the current fashion of tighter skirts on dresses. Still, if she had, she wouldn’t be able to pull the material between her legs to make climbing easier.

  She put a foot onto the windowsill and saw her slipper. Why hadn’t she changed into boots?

  Quickly taking her button hook from the dresser, Merrilee slipped on her boots and did up the row of buttons on each. Inhaling deeply before letting the air out slowly, she moved back to the window.

  Worried about her spectacles, she shoved them into the reticule around her wrist. Then, holding the sheeting tightly, she shimmied over the window ledge and hung suspended in suffocating darkness.

  Her feet found the wall of the house, just inches away from her. Kicking against it, Merrilee started down the sheet, hand over hand. She dropped when she reached the lit window of the small library.

  Hunched safely on the ground, she peered over the bottom edge of the window. Reginald Dyer upended a desk drawer, adding to a pile that already sat on the desk. She heard him swear and growl at William. Thank the Lord she had a place that offered safety from this man. At her age, he couldn’t be considered a guardian so he would have to declare her insane to control her.

  But a husband’s power would supersede this man’s. She was sure of it! Miss McKinley could help with that.

  Crawling to her cloak, she grabbed it and moved behind a tree. Removing the carpetbag from around her neck, she stood and whipped the cloak around her shoulders before moving stealthily out of the yard. Rather than heading out into the street, Merrilee kept to the alley that ran behind her home. It would take her to Miss McKinley’s house, three blocks away.

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  The tea warmed her throat and comf
orted Merrilee. Miss McKinley’s brow wrinkled with concern as she stared at her, making Merrilee feel as if her problems were all but solved. Her mother’s friend would have a solution to help her escape from Reginald Dyer.

  The woman tugged her quilted wrapper more closely around her middle and poked at the log in the fireplace. Then she sat across from Merrilee with a tsk.

  “My, but the note I sent you is timely.” The older woman’s mob cap bobbed as she nodded to emphasize her words. “Yes, indeed. I prayed over this telegram asking for a bride. Your name stuck in my mind.”

  Words escaped Merrilee. How did one answer that? Unsure what to say, she muttered a quiet, “Thank you,” before concentrating on the hot tea.

  “Well, the situation won’t be easy. From what you’ve told me, this marriage will be much better than staying where Reginald Dyer could snatch you.” Miss McKinley clucked in her tongue. “I told your mother he was a bad one. It was the only thing we ever argued about.”

  Merrilee’s head came up and her words tumbled out. “What did you sense? It must have been something terrible to force you to speak to her about the man.”

  “Oh, indeed. My brother, being both a man and a lawyer, hears things. Seems that Reginald Dyer didn’t exist before he came to Charleston.” The older woman shook her head and again clucked her tongue before continuing. “Can’t trust a person without studying his family, I say.”

  “Well, I suppose—”

  Miss McKinley cut Merrilee off abruptly as she warmed to her topic. “Now you take Carl Sittig. There’s a family to trust.”

  With her mind still buzzing from her frightening night, Merrilee shook her head. Who is Carl Sittig?

  “Yes, indeed. Myra has written about the family. Mind you, the father was no prize even if he was a hard worker. But his sons. Yes, they’re quite the family. One’s a successful farmer, the other a sheriff.” She stopped speaking to smile broadly and seemed to want a comment from Merrilee.

  She put down the empty teacup and gave a tight-lipped smile. “They do sound like a respectable family. I vaguely remember meeting Myra Smithson. You say she’s married to one of the sons.” Merrilee struggled to carry on tea time chatter at one in the morning. Still, she composed her face and waited for the other woman to speak.

  Smiling broadly, Miss McKinley didn’t let the conversation lag. “Yes, indeed she is. At almost the same time of year. If I remember correctly, she married on Christmas Eve or the day before it.”

  The woman looked at Merrilee for a response. She forced a polite smile and bobbed her head before speaking. “How nice that sounds.”

  The matchmaker beamed at Merrilee’s words. “I am glad to hear you say that. I expect, with the train schedules, that you will have a Christmas Eve wedding. And your groom, being the way he is, probably loves Christmas. Children do seem to enjoy the decorations and the presents.”

  Stiffening in her already straight back, Merrilee held up a hand. “One moment, ma’am. Do you mean to say I am heading west to marry a child?”

  Worry radiated from Miss McKinley. She gripped her hands and her lips thinned. “Not really. Carl Sittig may be a few years younger than you, but he is definitely in his twenties.”

  The woman sighed deeply before explaining. “There was an accident.” She put a finger to her lip and tapped it. “No that’s not the right word since the man was attacked and beaten. Afterward, he became childlike and needs to be tended.”

  Reaching up a hand, Merrilee pushed back the strand of blonde hair that slipped from its mooring. “Tended how? Will I need to bathe him?” She couldn’t mention diapering even though that came to her mind and sent a shudder through her.

  Miss McKinley reached across the pie crust table and patted Merrilee’s arm. She rushed her words. “Indeed not! He just needs someone to focus him on his chores and keep him at home. He does tend to wander and bother the neighbors with his chatter. At least that’s what Myra’s written.”

  “Perhaps they just need my help. Marriage seems extreme.”

  Clicking her tongue, the matchmaker shook her head. “You need the protection of marriage. Reginald Dyer has a reason for forcing you into marriage with that weakling nephew of his. You have to be married to stop his plan.”

  Fatigue gripped Merrilee as she struggled to think. Even the strong tea didn’t work to keep her awake. Struggling to keep her eyes open, Merrilee agreed. “Of course. Marriage.” Her head dipped and she jerked it up as she opened her sleepy eyes. “I see what you mean.”

  By the dim light of the fire, Miss McKinley looked intently into Merrilee’s eyes. “You rest while I take care of matters. We’ll need to send you away as soon as possible.”

  The old, gray-haired cook appeared at the door. Merrilee expected the woman had been listening outside. “You ready for me to take her to the guest room, ma’am?”

  The voices around her faded. At the touch on her shoulder, Merrilee jerked awake. The servant put a hand under Merrilee’s elbow. “Come on with me, miss. You being tuckered, I’ll help you get to a bed.”

  Cora McKinley watched the girl and her cook leave the room. As much as she dreaded it, Cora decided she would need to make a trip through the night to the depot.

  In her room upstairs, she quickly dressed in a dark wool dress. With a dark bonnet on her head and her black cape, she would blend into the night. At least she hoped she would go unnoticed.

  Downstairs in her library, she stuffed money and a small derringer into her reticule. Though it smacked of madness, she spoke aloud to herself. “Well, just this morning you were sighing over the dullness of your life. Enjoy the adventure.”

  Mentally prepared, she squared her shoulders and stepped out into the darkness. She only needed to walk four blocks before she would reach a busy street. There she would secure a cab for the rest of the trip to the depot.

  As she’d been trained, Cora kept to the edge of the sidewalk that was farthest from the street. No lady ever walked close to the street. House after house overshadowed her as she hurried down the street. At the Simpsons’ home, she heard voices coming toward her. Alarmed, she went through the gate and rushed to hide in the darkness that clung to the side of the house.

  She easily recognized Reginald Dyer’s angry voice. “She has to be here. William, you go down the alley. I’ll check the street.”

  The younger man’s lisped whine told her this must be the nephew Merrilee mentioned. “Don’t make me. The alley’th dark. Let me thay on the threet with the lampth.”

  A growl sounded before the man answered. “Take this lantern then. Just do what I said, you worthless boy. We have to find her and get you married to the girl.”

  The younger, high-pitched voice sounded sullen as he asked, “What’s the hurry, I’d like to know?”

  “Oh, you’d like to know, would you? I’ll tell you, twerp, that your mother’s telegram told me the lawyer’s discovered the truth. That McKinley will be back soon to set aside the will. Marrying her is our only hope now.”

  She heard a smack of a hand on flesh and then a whimper. Soon after, two sets of footsteps headed away from the spot.

  Relieved, the matchmaker turned adventurer headed once again down the street. Thankfully, in the opposite direction of the two men.

  Chapter 3

  The steam engine’s bell rang as it approached a depot. The conductor’s voice almost sang the name of the next depot. “Idyll Wood. Next stop, Idyll Wood!”

  Merrilee had arrived. Her new home and a new family waited for her.

  At least, she hoped they waited for her at the depot. What if they hadn’t gotten Miss McKinley’s telegram? Where would she go since she didn’t know a soul in this place?

  Mother always protected her, kept her close. Merrilee had been nervous the entire journey, sure that a stranger would harm her or Reginald Dyer would appear out of the crowd at one of the many depots along the way. She’d rebuffed the few passengers who tried to speak with her, clinging to her mother’s teaching t
hat a lady ignored random strangers. It had been a long and lonely trip.

  The morning she’d left Charleston, Miss McKinley hustled her onto an early morning train after Merrilee had only slept a few hours. She’d headed south at first. The older woman had explained the need for Merrilee to both leave the city on the first available train and to go in the wrong direction to throw her stepfather off her trail.

  Her circuitous route added a day to her travel. Miss McKinley had advised her to keep traveling and not to stop at any hotel. Because of that, Merrilee was arriving in Idyll Wood both dirty and exhausted. Hopefully, Carl Sittig’s family would gracefully overlook her appearance. She didn’t worry about impressing Carl. If Miss McKinley could be believed, he was more boy than man.

  A boy! She was giving up all hopes for real marriage and children to marry a boyish man. As a spinster, she should already have forgotten childhood fairy tales. Life didn’t work that way. She wasn’t in her own version of Beauty and the Beast. Carl wouldn’t turn out to be a prince who waited for true love’s kiss so he could be released from a spell.

  She actually snorted out loud at her thoughts, drawing a look from the passing conductor. Smiling, she assured him that everything was fine.

  Yes, fine and dandy. She was about to marry a stranger. What could be wrong? She stifled the second snort that tried to leave her.

  Before rising, she ran her wrinkled hanky over her face, hoping it would clean any smut left from the cinders that floated on the air in the passenger car. With no time or facilities to do more, she hoped for the best.

  “You’re smearing it.” An elderly gentleman sitting across the aisle motioned to his own face with a swipe of an imaginary handkerchief, causing Merrilee to blush. Not only had he watched her, but evidently black cinders dirtied her face.

  Oh, what a beginning to her life in Idyll Wood!

  She calmed herself by mentally repeating the bible verse Miss McKinley told her at the train depot. Merrilee remembered the conversation now as she said her chosen words from Joshua 1:9.