Read Online Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell - Free Book Online
Book: Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell
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Authors: Cindy Caldwell
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, Massachusetts, Religious, Christian, Louisiana, Inspirational, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, father, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Charade, Fifth In Series, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, plantation, Subterfuge, Privileged Childhood, Speaks French, Mississippi River
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one who could help him now.
Chapter Thirteen
J osephine stared out the window , as she’d been doing all night. She’d watched the full moon cast shadows from the willow trees as they blew gently in the wind and the horses as they grazed then became still. She counted the lights as they blinked out, one by one, in the small cottages on the plantation that she could see out the window.
None of that could erase the horrid memory of the evening from her mind. Several times during the night, hot tears had spilled from her eyes and she’d laid her head in her hands.
Now, as the wispy clouds turned pink, then orange with the new rays of the sun, she couldn’t help but think what would become of her. As much as she wanted to blame Michelle for this disaster, she really could only blame herself. She’d been able to keep her father happy as she learned French and about French food, but she’d had no idea that the requirements of this level of society was so much more than she ever could have imagined.
Pierre undoubtedly would be asking her to leave soon, and she sat on the bed with her reticule open, dumping its contents on the fluffy white comforter. She counted the few bills and coins and wondered if she had enough to get back to Boston. She didn’t think so, but she did think maybe she could get back to Mississippi. Maybe Michelle would let her stay for a while and give her some time to see what she should do.
She opened the drawers of the vanity and, finding them empty, crossed to one of the nightstands, hoping that she might find some paper and something to write with. Sending a letter to Michelle was her only options, and she wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe Pierre would be kind enough to allow her to stay until she received a response. It shouldn’t take too long as steamboats traveled up and down the river quite frequently.
Sitting down at the vanity, she cringed at the memory of the look on Pierre’s face--kind, but knowing--and she was grateful that at least neither he nor Jerome had said anything about her unending faux pas. She’d stolen a glance at Bernadette several times and her heart tugged at the pain on her new friend’s face--clearly on Josephine’s behalf.
She picked up the pen and dipped it in the inkwell.
D ear Michelle ,
I do hope that you are happy, and that the town you now live in--and your husband--are both treating you well. That is my most ardent wish for you--to be happy.
I, unfortunately, made a mistake coming here. Contrary to your counsel, I was not able to successfully produce the manners required of a lady of society. What were we thinking? It’s more likely that a frog could become a prince.
I will be leaving shortly, and am hoping that I might stay with you and your new husband for a while, to give me time to sort this all out. I do realize I am asking a lot from you--and your husband--and if it is inconvenient I do hope you’ll tell me. I believe I can stay here for a while longer until I secure another option.
I miss you very much and look forward to seeing you at some point.
A ll my love ,
Josephine
S he sighed as she lifted the paper up and blew on it until she knew the ink was dry. She placed the cork back in the inkbottle and stood, stretching her sore muscles. Sitting in the chair all night had taken its toll on her neck and back. It was still early--barely sunrise--and she dreaded having to see Pierre or anyone else in this house. She couldn’t put off the inevitable, though, but she could take a walk before they awoke, maybe clear her head a little and certainly stretch her legs.
She dressed quickly in her gray work dress and pulled on her old, scuffed boots rather than her new, delicate slippers. They wouldn’t be appropriate for walking out side--and besides, she’d need to give all of these beautiful dresses back. Her heart tugged at the thought, but it was the right thing to do, of course.
She grabbed a wrap and threw it over her shoulders. She
Chapter Thirteen
J osephine stared out the window , as she’d been doing all night. She’d watched the full moon cast shadows from the willow trees as they blew gently in the wind and the horses as they grazed then became still. She counted the lights as they blinked out, one by one, in the small cottages on the plantation that she could see out the window.
None of that could erase the horrid memory of the evening from her mind. Several times during the night, hot tears had spilled from her eyes and she’d laid her head in her hands.
Now, as the wispy clouds turned pink, then orange with the new rays of the sun, she couldn’t help but think what would become of her. As much as she wanted to blame Michelle for this disaster, she really could only blame herself. She’d been able to keep her father happy as she learned French and about French food, but she’d had no idea that the requirements of this level of society was so much more than she ever could have imagined.
Pierre undoubtedly would be asking her to leave soon, and she sat on the bed with her reticule open, dumping its contents on the fluffy white comforter. She counted the few bills and coins and wondered if she had enough to get back to Boston. She didn’t think so, but she did think maybe she could get back to Mississippi. Maybe Michelle would let her stay for a while and give her some time to see what she should do.
She opened the drawers of the vanity and, finding them empty, crossed to one of the nightstands, hoping that she might find some paper and something to write with. Sending a letter to Michelle was her only options, and she wasn’t sure, but she thought maybe Pierre would be kind enough to allow her to stay until she received a response. It shouldn’t take too long as steamboats traveled up and down the river quite frequently.
Sitting down at the vanity, she cringed at the memory of the look on Pierre’s face--kind, but knowing--and she was grateful that at least neither he nor Jerome had said anything about her unending faux pas. She’d stolen a glance at Bernadette several times and her heart tugged at the pain on her new friend’s face--clearly on Josephine’s behalf.
She picked up the pen and dipped it in the inkwell.
D ear Michelle ,
I do hope that you are happy, and that the town you now live in--and your husband--are both treating you well. That is my most ardent wish for you--to be happy.
I, unfortunately, made a mistake coming here. Contrary to your counsel, I was not able to successfully produce the manners required of a lady of society. What were we thinking? It’s more likely that a frog could become a prince.
I will be leaving shortly, and am hoping that I might stay with you and your new husband for a while, to give me time to sort this all out. I do realize I am asking a lot from you--and your husband--and if it is inconvenient I do hope you’ll tell me. I believe I can stay here for a while longer until I secure another option.
I miss you very much and look forward to seeing you at some point.
A ll my love ,
Josephine
S he sighed as she lifted the paper up and blew on it until she knew the ink was dry. She placed the cork back in the inkbottle and stood, stretching her sore muscles. Sitting in the chair all night had taken its toll on her neck and back. It was still early--barely sunrise--and she dreaded having to see Pierre or anyone else in this house. She couldn’t put off the inevitable, though, but she could take a walk before they awoke, maybe clear her head a little and certainly stretch her legs.
She dressed quickly in her gray work dress and pulled on her old, scuffed boots rather than her new, delicate slippers. They wouldn’t be appropriate for walking out side--and besides, she’d need to give all of these beautiful dresses back. Her heart tugged at the thought, but it was the right thing to do, of course.
She grabbed a wrap and threw it over her shoulders. She
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