South of Stavewood (Stavewood Saga Book 2) (2 page)

Chapter Two

    
 
R
ebecca studied her reflection in the long mirror as her mother-in-law finished tucking a soft  rosebud into the younger woman’s hair.

      “A vision!” Isabel announced. “Rebecca, I have never seen you more beautiful! You have a glow about you today. Is there some kind of secret going on under that gorgeous gown you’ve been keeping to yourself?”

      “Remind me to never try to keep any surprises from the best mid-wife in the county!” Rebecca shook her head.

      “How long?” Isabel gasped and held the younger woman’s hand.

      “Early spring, like Louisa,” Rebecca beamed.

      “Wonderful!” Isabel spread Rebecca’s gown out behind her. “Then the celebration is even more wonderful, dear.”

       Isabel studied her stunning daughter-in-law’s reflection and smiled. She could not imagine a more perfect mate for her only living son. Bold and headstrong, Timothy was always loving, but forceful. This little slip of a girl had taken him on like a lioness, but with the gentleness of a lamb. She was a wonderful mother, firm and patient and Isabel knew a second grandchild would be adored.

     She congratulated the girl profusely and ducked out of the room, leaving the young woman a few moments alone to prepare for her big day.

      Rebecca sighed deeply and turned slightly to one side to examine her bridal train spread out behind her.

      Her dress was a soft cream and made almost entirely of lace. The sleeves, unlined, fit her slender arms snugly and the bands of lace matched the high collar that flattered her slender neck. The midriff was a series of tiny tucks which fit her perfectly and complimented her trim waistline, spilling out to a cascade of netted lace which poured out full and light around her. She wore no veil, choosing instead to tie her lengthy chestnut hair into a soft chignon, accented with miniature rosebuds and spray of baby’s breath.

      She held her hand out before her and admired her ring. Although she had worn it since their civil ceremony she still loved it as much as she had the day it was discovered in the jewelry shop, a rare estate piece of diamonds and emeralds to match her green eyes.

      She lifted her wedding gown carefully and ventured out into the hall. Rebecca thought for a moment about her cousin, Emma and her warnings against leaving England.

      Eileen, her maid, waited patiently for her and smiled proudly. “They’re nearly ready for you, Ma’am. I’ll help you downstairs.”

      “Thank you,” Rebecca sighed to calm her nerves. “Is everyone assembled?”

      “Oh, yes Ma’am. I think the entire territory is out there. Your cousin just came in from St. Peter and Mr. Carson is waiting in the kitchen. He looks very handsome in his suit, and not in that lawman’s uniform he’s always wearing.” Eileen chuckled.

      “Why, Mrs. Elgerson, you look ravishing!” Ben Carson, the local sheriff smiled broadly.

      “Thank you, Ben,” Rebecca blushed.

      “Your father would be a proud man today,” Ben Carson bowed.

      “It means so much to me that you would say that, Ben. I’m so pleased to have you giving me away today.”

      “We’ve come a long way, since you arrived, Ma’am. I’m proud to do it.”

      “Yes, we certainly have.” Rebecca’s memory flashed back to the day he had found out she was nothing more than a mail order bride, caught in a terrifying misunderstanding. She put her fair hand on top of his firm arm as the quartet began to play Wagner’s march in the ballroom.

      Rebecca Elgerson and Ben Carson stood in the hall of Stavewood as two butlers smiled in appreciation and pulled open the twin oak doors to the big ballroom. Timothy had removed the large windows to open up the already generous room, exposing it to the lawns and gardens. Dozens of white covered chairs rustled as guests rose to their feet.

      Little Louisa toddled down the center of the aisle, careful to stay on the white carpet as she had practiced, tossing petals from her tiny basket and giggling self-consciously.

      The bride looked from side to side, overwhelmed by the huge number of people filling the room and spilling out into the yard. Dressed stylishly in a dark suit, tan and handsome, her step-son Mark, now just sixteen, smiled approvingly to her and nodded his head.

      She looked up and saw her groom there and caught her breath.

      Timothy Elgerson wore a refined tuxedo, smooth, black and fitted to his tall frame. Rebecca had seen him in evening dress before, but the formal ensemble showed off his golden tan and sun kissed hair wonderfully. With his warm smile, she saw only him, only his handsome invitation, as he stood and waited for her under a canopy of climbing roses.

      She halted, just for an instant, in her walk down the aisle. She watched his face and relished the moment, his loving gaze, the scent of the roses, the approving whispers of a hundred guests. She had dreamt of this moment all of her life and she never wanted the perfection of it to end.

      Ben placed her hand onto Timothy’s arm and stepped away. She smiled up to her handsome groom with love and appreciation.

      “As promised, Rebecca,” Timothy leaned close and whispered to her.

      They exchanged their vows, as they had once before, but his time Rebecca understood the meaning in a different way. She had been by his side through an infection from a gunshot wound the day they were ambushed in the forest, and a mill accident that had taken several lives. He had held her as their daughter was born. They also had health, sharing their lives together, joyful with well-being. They had buried Timothy’s father, Phillip, and the family had witnessed the heartbreak of death and Isabel’s lost husband. Each word of the oath touched her heart and she knew her response meant more than she had once imagined.

      As she listened to Timothy respond “I do” she thought her heart would burst with joy. And as he took her and pulled her close to him, tears fell from her smiling eyes and the air filled with cheers and congratulations, their guests uniting with them in their celebration.

      Timothy swept Rebecca up into his arms, her gown spilling from his big hands, and called out to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming! You can all go home now, I’m getting another chance at a honeymoon with this beauty and I just cannot wait!”

      The guests exploded into laughter and hilarity, the men tossing hats into the air as the happy couple made their way back down the aisle.

     The reception line formed quickly, a mixed group of farmers, landowners, and timbermen, all successful and hard working men and women. Beside the bride and groom stood Timothy’s son, Mark, handsome and self-confident in his fashionable attire. Touching his arm was Isabel, Timothy’s mother, elegant in a soft lavender gown, her silvered hair done up impeccably.

      The elderly came to congratulate the couple first, certain to tire early in the day, followed by the very young. Rebecca and Timothy kissed and hugged them all, everyone appreciating the celebration for much more than the occasion itself.

      The last to offer their congratulations were the survivors of the mill accident. Some supported by canes, others having healed enough to walk unassisted. These guests were the most warmly greeted by the bridal couple. A wedding had long been discussed, but the accident had stalled many pleasures near Stavewood. Today would begin a time of healing, a celebration of not only a wedding, but of life.

      Roland Vancouver leaned on his walking stick heavily, his injuries long in healing, and shook hands with the bride and groom seriously.

      “I’m so glad you chose to come, Roland,” Rebecca kissed the man’s firm cheek fondly.

      “It’s good to see you upright, my friend.” Timothy clasped the tall man on the arm.

      “I was hoping that maybe some of your luck with women would rub off on me.” Vancouver attempted a smile.

     “Only with one woman.” Timothy walked with the man to a nearby chair. He attempted to assist Roland as the man supported himself on the back of the chair.

      “I’m good, Tim. Go on, finish greeting your guests.”

      The injured man felt caught between knowing how he may never have survived without help of the big man, and wondering when his condition would be considered a burden. He watched Tim return to the side of his bride and admired the couple. He’d always wanted a family of his own, but just never found the time. Now, in his condition, he was sure it was a dream he would never realize. He turned and staggered away.

Chapter Three

    
T
he Elgerson’s wedding was as generous as the couple, offering beverages and food to suit every palate. There were numerous games for the children. Most parents caught only glimpses of their youngsters all day. For the very young children, the nannies of the county had been fully employed and supplied with suitable amusements.

      The ballroom was soon emptied of chairs by a busy staff and a succession of musical groups provided music, playing everything from the most sophisticated waltzes to foot stomping fiddle ensembles.

      The receiving line eventually concluded and, as Rebecca turned to accompany Timothy to the beverage table, Emma caught her eye. The bride barely recognized her once boisterous cousin. The girl was lanky and thin, deep hallows beneath her large eyes. Rebecca gathered her skirts and ran to her, and Emma felt overcome to finally be in the arms of her only relative.

      “Oh! Emmy! I was afraid you didn’t make it. How are you? It’s such a joy to see you!” Rebecca restrained herself from fussing over the girl’s gaunt appearance.

      “This is quite a place you’ve got here!” Emma avoided the question and faced Timothy. “If I had known what Becky had signed up for answering that ad, I would have fought her for the missive and become a mail order bride myself.”

      “Emma, it is wonderful to finally meet you,” Timothy Elgerson bowed formally.

      “And you as well.” Emma searched his eyes and found the genuine man within that Rebecca had written of so often. “I wish you both nothing but continued happiness.” She took each of their hands warmly.

      “Where are your things? I’ll have someone set you up in a room immediately!” Rebecca thought Emma looked as if she might fall over at any moment.

      “In the coach, there. I rode in with a nice couple from town. It seems as if every vehicle in the whole area was appropriated to come here today.” Emma smiled solemnly.

      “Mark,” Rebecca called to her son. “Please meet my cousin Emma Harris.”

      “My pleasure,” the young man bowed, his voice now deep and self-assured. It was plain to Emma that the boy had acquired his father’s elegant manners.

      “Emma’s things are in the Freid carriage. Would you mind terribly making sure someone takes them up to the third floor bedroom and then shows her around the house a bit?”

      “I’d be pleased to do that myself.” Mark smiled handsomely and tucked Emma’s hand into his arm.

      Rebecca watched them cross the lawn to the house and turned anxiously to her husband. “Tim, she looks awful. I’m worried.”

      “Perhaps the journey was exhausting,” he speculated.

      “No, it’s more than that. She’s so thin. You didn’t see her like I always knew her. Emma was almost a bit pudgy, and always the loudest and funniest in the crowd. This is a different girl.”

      “Then she’s come to the right place, Rebecca. There is a lot of healing going on around Stavewood these days.”

     “That’s true.” Rebecca took his arm as he led her to the refreshment table. “She’s certainly in good hands. In that suit, Mark is growing up to be quite the well-mannered, young man,” she smiled.

      “I can’t take much credit for that, my dear. I think you have tamed us both.”

      “Now, if I could only do that with our rambunctious daughter.” Rebecca caught sight of Louisa, already having been changed out of her dress and into her play clothes, bouncing happily on the pony.

      Timothy smiled proudly. “Wait until she’s got a little brother to ride with.”

      Rebecca shook her head at the sight of the child and smiled.

      “So, that’s the place. My Pa’s pretty proud.” Mark smiled as he led the girl into the guest room. “If you need anything the cooks in the kitchen will call you a maid. There’s a bath right here, and, of course, plenty of food outside. Rebecca was so happy to hear you were coming. I’m sure she’ll want to spend time with you after the celebration. Are you going to stay for a while?” Mark showed Emma to her room courteously.

      “I may never go home again.” She surveyed the comfortable room.

      “That’d probably be okay too,” Mark chuckled. “Is there anything else you need? There’s a riding contest starting out by the back barns in a little bit and I have my eye on a nice horse they’re offering up as first prize.”

      “I’m fine,” Emma smiled at the young man, delightfully caught up in his youth. “Good luck at your race.”

      “Thanks Ma’am,” he waved back as he headed down the hall.

      Emma roamed the room slowly, running her fingers along the fine wood furniture and feeling the plush rugs beneath her feet. Her shoes looked acceptable from above, but they had worn thin now, threatening holes in her stockings. She turned to her reflection in the tall mirror and studied herself carefully for the first time in months.

      She saw a tall woman, looking several years older than her actual age. Her soft, golden hair was pulled back severely, dry now from rough soaps, and her eyes were sunken and weary. She lifted her arm and noticed that her thin wrist looked even more frightening in the mirror. She sat on the bed and fought back her tears. In shame she admitted to herself that Becky’s wedding invitation, and the accompanying travel arrangements, were just an excuse to get out of London. Becky was doing wonderfully well, and had always been so good to her. Maybe if she could just get back on her feet, things would be different.

      Her doctor had prescribed keeping busy, which was not easy on her voyage, but now she was able to do what was recommended. She decided to stop feeling sorry for herself and go down to the celebration. Maybe a few good meals and a dose of the bright Minnesota sunshine would help her heal. She rubbed her temples to ease the constant ache, and found her way downstairs.

      Despite her unpredictable stomach ailments, Emma enjoyed the astounding food and found herself not only dining on several hearty meats and fish, but for the first time in a long while, relishing a generous dessert.

      “You can always count on a good meal around this place,” a deep voice from behind startled her and she turned to it. Silhouetted against the bright mid-day sun she could only make out a tall, dark man leaning on a substantial cane. She rose to her feet and brushed her skirt, stepping to the side to see the man’s face.

      Roland Vancouver was a few inches taller than she, his dark hair pulled back from his face, which featured a neatly trimmed moustache and goatee. His suit was pressed and expensive, but Emma got the impression that the man was likely more comfortable in working trousers. He greatly favored his left leg and leaned heavily on his cane. He was quite handsome, rugged and well built, yet his face bore the cloud of a dark disposition.

      “Would you like my chair?” she offered. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Emma Harris, Rebecca’s cousin.”

      “No, thank you,” he shifted his weight. “I’m told if I walk on my leg I might get use of it again. I’m trying.” He shook his head as if uncertain of that advice. “Roland,” he nodded slightly.

      “Becky wrote to me about the mill accident. I’m sure she mentioned your name. You’re the foreman, right? Is it very bad?” She could see the man was in considerable pain and admired his fortitude.

      “That’s me. The leg’s still attached, so I suppose I have no right to complain.” He studied the girl curiously. She looked at if she might be very attractive, but chose to conceal her good looks rather than call attention to them. Her hair was drawn back severely and her dress ill-fitted. He looked up and caught her searching his eyes and he looked away. He stared off into the distance with frustration. Even the doctors couldn’t tell him if he’d ever be a man again. He had his leg, but if he could never be with a woman it might not be worth it.

      “This is a fine piece of land out here,” he continued.

      Emma was overcome with the strange desire to touch the man, to help him somehow and understand his struggle. “It most definitely is. Do you live close by?”

      “About a mile to the south of here. It’s nice there, too. I’ve got a good place, not the size of this, of course, but plenty of room to move about. When I can, that is.” He laughed dryly.

      “This fresh air must have given me an appetite. I don’t recall when I’ve been so hungry. Maybe I should stick around a bit and enjoy it more.” She wished to dispense with the small talk and feel comfortable enough with someone to discuss what was really on her mind.

      “Will you be visiting for a while?” He looked back to her.

      “I hope to. I’ve got nowhere else to be, or that I’d care to go to anyway.” She lowered her gaze.

      “That’d be nice,” he smiled.

      Emma looked up at him and returned his smile.

      “I’ll be out in a few days for supper to talk about reopening the mill. Maybe I’ll see you then.” He nodded and stepped away.

      Emma nodded in return and watched him struggle to cross the yard. She found a shady spot near the porch where she could see most of the open areas of the property and watched the celebration. Finely dressed couples crossed the lawn, arm in arm, chatting easily. Some of the men who had been injured sat in chairs, some with wheels, beneath the tall tree on the front lawn and joked good naturedly. Roland did not join them she noticed, but instead found a tree on the edge of the adjoining woods and watched, as she did, from a distance. Children occasionally ran boisterously across the porch, and she could hear men cheering in the far distance. Now and again she would see Timothy, or Rebecca, or the two of them together, enjoying their guests and mingling with them around the yard.

      Becky was stunning, healthy and beautiful and Timothy was more handsome than she had imagined. Becky’s descriptions of him were very clear, but the warmth in the man’s eyes made him even more attractive. They were obviously in love and shared an ease and comfort together that Emma found herself envying. She looked across the lawns and saw Roland leaning against the tree watching her closely.

      “What have I got to lose?” she muttered, and dusted herself off, heading for the beverage table.

      “I would like beer, please,” she boldly announced to the server. “Two, in fact.”

      “As you wish, Miss.” She was handed two generous ceramic mugs spilling over with foam.

      She stepped across the lawn swiftly, but cautiously, and walked up to Roland.

      “Do you drink beer?” she asked plainly.

      “On occasion,” he replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “Do you?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

      “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I have never tried it.”

      “You decided to try one now? Why would that be?” This girl was odd, he thought.

      “I thought you might like one and I hear that no one should drink alone.” She took a healthy drink of the foamy brew and her eyes flew open. “Oh, my,” she sputtered. “That is quite unusual!”

      Roland laughed over his mug, saluted her with the cup and took a long pull.

      Timothy found himself amid a gaggle of elderly women, each one attempting to outdo the others in the group, with compliments over his attire. He watched Roland and Emma over the lady’s heads with some concern. He was very aware of the complications from Roland’s accident. He was frankly surprised to see the man looking at all comfortable in the company of any woman. He wondered if the plain appearance of Emma somehow made him feel less threatened and he was happy to see his foreman more at ease.

      Rebecca too noticed Roland and her cousin talking. She knew the man had suffered violently and from the looks of Emmy, she had not been well either. An odd pair, Rebecca thought, but was glad to see her cousin had rejoined the celebration. She found her thoughts wandering to the day of the mill accident and tried to block it from her mind as she walked across the yard to watch the children riding ponies. Louisa was hopping happily in front of the stables on a pogo stick, a toy Mark had purchased for her for Christmas. She was too small to maneuver the toy well, but, having watched Mark use it successfully on several occasions, little Louisa would be a master at the contraption in no time. Rebecca surveyed the surrounding area and sighed. Her life felt complete now and she walked towards the table, admiring her tall groom there enjoying a mug with the men.

      Isabel held her skirts up clear of the dusty path as she passed through the narrow gate in the fence surrounding the cemetery. She found her husband’s grave easily, the blooming lilac bush alive with bees beside the head stone. She lowered herself onto the stone bench and shaded her eyes momentarily from the midday sun.

      “You would have been so proud today, Phillip.” Isabel worked hard to keep a smile on her face. She wanted happiness today. She wanted to be thankful for the lifetime of love and companionship she had lived with the man. The horrors of the accident and even the ache of missing her man could not hold her heart today. Isabel was ready to go on with her life and to keep her memories fulfilling and content.