Read Online Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) by Carré White - Free Book Online
Book: Trinity: Bride of West Virginia (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 35) by Carré White
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Authors: Carré White
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, stepmother, Religious, Christian, Inspirational, Bachelor, gifts, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, father, Letters, West Virginia, Forbidden Love, age difference, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, Thirty-Fourth In Series, Older Gentleman, City Hall, Stolen Heart, Grown Son, Mistake
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pretty.” I opened the locket, which revealed a small, folded piece of paper. “I wonder what this is?” Unfolding the paper, I glimpsed a tiny drawing of a heart with an arrow through it. “Strange.”
Mrs. Dexter hadn’t seen the drawing, but she stared at me. “It’s quite pretty.”
I closed the locket with the paper inside. “Can you put it on?”
“Of course.” She came behind me, attaching it easily.
“Thank you.” My mind drifted to the night of the party, and how it felt to be in Nathanial’s arms. I thought of the embrace we shared that first night as well. He had comforted me when I had been at my weakest.
“Shall I put these away?”
“If you like.”
“Yes, Mrs. Witherspoon.”
I wandered out to the balcony, staring at the lawn, its greenness a thing of beauty. The chill in the air did not bother me, my mind wandering to another time and place.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
When she returned, she brought a tray, with an envelope resting near the teapot. “Here you are.”
“I’ve correspondence?”
“You do.”
I took the letter, glancing at the sender. “My stars.” Nathanial had written me! I felt a moment of pure, unexpected joy. I opened the lettersheet eyeing an elegant scrawl. I sank into a plush chair reading.
Dearest Trinity,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wanted to apologize again for our first meeting. In retrospect, I behaved boorishly. I am sorry for putting you ill at ease. That was not my intention. You are now my father’s wife. I should therefore offer you the respect you so rightly deserve.
I wish I had stayed longer at the house. I left too soon. I find my mind will not rest for all the questions rambling around in it. I want to know about your past, where you’ve been, what you’ve seen, but I am not there to ask. Perhaps, you will do me the honor of enlightening me with a letter of your own. If my questions are not topics you wish to discuss, I will understand.
I purchased a few extra things for you. While you were with the seamstress, I asked Mrs. Barney to include several of these items. I hope you are not offended. Forgive me for taking such liberties. The locket, I thought it pretty. You may ignore the paper inside. That was … a moment of weakness.
I shall close now. It’s late here. I only wanted to apologize again for my behavior. Do forgive me.
Yours,
Nathanial Witherspoon
I read the letter again and again, my eyes admiring the handwriting, the elegant, manly scrawl. He wanted me to write him. I would, but I did not have the time at the moment, needing to ready myself for morning callers. Mrs. Dexter sent Penny to me, the maid braiding my hair and arranging it artfully on top of my head. I held the letter, reading it as she worked, Nathanial’s words sinking into my consciousness.
Since marrying Mr. Witherspoon and coming to live in West Virginia, I had grown used to the luxuries of the mansion, the transition being far too easy. If I were to return to the boarding house, such a change would be traumatic now. I felt like a queen, my needs anticipated by the servants at every moment of the day.
Yet, although my life had transformed overnight into something most would consider a dream, I felt strangely empty inside—exactly the same as I had felt before. The desire to be connected to another, a deeper spiritual and romantic union, well, this eluded me completely. In the middle of the night, after I had left my husband’s bed, I found myself alone, sleeping in cool sheets, the evenings growing colder and colder. My head lay upon the pillow, my heart yearning for something—someone else.
***
Nathanial and I communicated regularly by post, a steady stream of letters arriving and departing, like ships crossing in some dark channel during the night. Anticipating his correspondence oftentimes drove me to emotional extremes. If Mrs. Dexter brought a tray in with no mail, I would be
Mrs. Dexter hadn’t seen the drawing, but she stared at me. “It’s quite pretty.”
I closed the locket with the paper inside. “Can you put it on?”
“Of course.” She came behind me, attaching it easily.
“Thank you.” My mind drifted to the night of the party, and how it felt to be in Nathanial’s arms. I thought of the embrace we shared that first night as well. He had comforted me when I had been at my weakest.
“Shall I put these away?”
“If you like.”
“Yes, Mrs. Witherspoon.”
I wandered out to the balcony, staring at the lawn, its greenness a thing of beauty. The chill in the air did not bother me, my mind wandering to another time and place.
“Would you like some tea?”
“Yes.”
“Very well.”
When she returned, she brought a tray, with an envelope resting near the teapot. “Here you are.”
“I’ve correspondence?”
“You do.”
I took the letter, glancing at the sender. “My stars.” Nathanial had written me! I felt a moment of pure, unexpected joy. I opened the lettersheet eyeing an elegant scrawl. I sank into a plush chair reading.
Dearest Trinity,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. I wanted to apologize again for our first meeting. In retrospect, I behaved boorishly. I am sorry for putting you ill at ease. That was not my intention. You are now my father’s wife. I should therefore offer you the respect you so rightly deserve.
I wish I had stayed longer at the house. I left too soon. I find my mind will not rest for all the questions rambling around in it. I want to know about your past, where you’ve been, what you’ve seen, but I am not there to ask. Perhaps, you will do me the honor of enlightening me with a letter of your own. If my questions are not topics you wish to discuss, I will understand.
I purchased a few extra things for you. While you were with the seamstress, I asked Mrs. Barney to include several of these items. I hope you are not offended. Forgive me for taking such liberties. The locket, I thought it pretty. You may ignore the paper inside. That was … a moment of weakness.
I shall close now. It’s late here. I only wanted to apologize again for my behavior. Do forgive me.
Yours,
Nathanial Witherspoon
I read the letter again and again, my eyes admiring the handwriting, the elegant, manly scrawl. He wanted me to write him. I would, but I did not have the time at the moment, needing to ready myself for morning callers. Mrs. Dexter sent Penny to me, the maid braiding my hair and arranging it artfully on top of my head. I held the letter, reading it as she worked, Nathanial’s words sinking into my consciousness.
Since marrying Mr. Witherspoon and coming to live in West Virginia, I had grown used to the luxuries of the mansion, the transition being far too easy. If I were to return to the boarding house, such a change would be traumatic now. I felt like a queen, my needs anticipated by the servants at every moment of the day.
Yet, although my life had transformed overnight into something most would consider a dream, I felt strangely empty inside—exactly the same as I had felt before. The desire to be connected to another, a deeper spiritual and romantic union, well, this eluded me completely. In the middle of the night, after I had left my husband’s bed, I found myself alone, sleeping in cool sheets, the evenings growing colder and colder. My head lay upon the pillow, my heart yearning for something—someone else.
***
Nathanial and I communicated regularly by post, a steady stream of letters arriving and departing, like ships crossing in some dark channel during the night. Anticipating his correspondence oftentimes drove me to emotional extremes. If Mrs. Dexter brought a tray in with no mail, I would be
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