Atlanta, Georgia, April 9, 1888
Zenobia dabbed at her eyes and cheeks
with her handkerchief. Her sweet mother had passed away five days ago after
being bedridden for over four years. The knowledge her mother’s death was
imminent hadn’t softened the loss from being like an open wound. The funeral
yesterday had passed as if she was in a trance.
“Nellie, you were so good to Mama. Are
you certain there’s nothing more of hers you want?”
Nellie had served Mama since Mama was a
child and now sobbed into her handkerchief. “No, thank you. She gave me such a
surprise when she gave me so much money three months ago.”
“She knew you’d be eager to leave
Atlanta once she was gone and didn’t want you to have to wait for the will to
be read.”
“Bless her, I’ll be able to retire in
comfort. I leave for Summerville today. If I like the cottage my sister has
found near hers, I can afford to purchase the place, thanks to your sweet
mother.”
Zenobia hugged Nellie. “Goodbye, dear
friend. I’ll write to you and you must answer to let me know how you’re
settling there.”
When Nellie had gone, Zenobia and her
own lady’s maid, Marcy Boyer, folded the last of her late mother’s dresses for
the poor. Tears still trailed down Zenobia’s cheeks.
Marcy went to find someone to move the
crates. When she returned, she rushed into the room. “Your stepfather demanded
you to come to the parlor immediately. Hurry because he’s not in a good mood,
even for him.”
“Oh, no, what now? I know he’s eager to
get rid of me since Mama has passed and he doesn’t need us to nurse her.” Drying
her eyes, she rushed downstairs.
Jim Beveridge, her stepfather, insisted
she call him Papa even though he resented Zenobia’s presence in the house. When
she entered the room he gave her an assessing stare. “You should be married
with children. Instead you’re old enough you’re on the shelf.”
The nerve of the man. “Now that I’m not
helping nurse Mama, I can attend dances and parties. I still have time to find
a husband, Papa, without being consigned to spinsterhood. I’m sure I’ll soon
have a beau.”
“I’m not so sure so I’ve helped you. Percy
Lawton has asked for your hand and I’ve agreed.”
Aghast, she stared at him. “Percy
Lawton? Without even consulting me? But, Papa, he’s nothing like the sort of
man I’d choose for a husband. In addition, he’s—”she caught herself before she
said too old, though he was—“he’s
your age rather than mine.”
“He’s fit for his years and one of my
closest friends. He’ll make you a fine husband with plenty of funds to keep you
in comfort.”
She took a step backward, appalled at
her stepfather’s revelation. “No, he may act properly surrounded by you and his
other men friends. Around me and other women he’s lecherous and not someone I’d
want to spend time with even for a few hours—and certainly not for the rest of
my life.”
Hoping against hope he’d accept her
refusal, Zenobia turned her back on her stepfather and fought to control her
features. Her stepfather watched for any sign of weakness he could use against
people.
He persisted, “I’m your guardian until
you’re married or until you turn twenty-five. You’ll marry Percy Lawton.”
She whirled to face him. “No, Papa, I
won’t marry that swine. How could you expect me to and so soon after Mama’s
passing?” How she hated calling him Papa.
He pointed at her with his cigar. “You
can’t use your mother as an excuse any longer. You will marry Lawton or I’ll have you declared hysterical and placed
in an asylum.”
She clutched the pearls at her throat with
one hand and reached out to grasp a table and steady herself with the other. “Surely
you wouldn’t do such a terrible thing to me even though I’m only your stepdaughter?”
“I’ve already spoken to my attorney and
he says I can easily do so. He can have you declared hysterical in several
areas.”
Zenobia dropped onto a chair. She knew
her stepfather was capable of doing as he promised. “How could you? After you
promised Mama and she trusted you to protect me.”
His voice rose, “I told you not to
throw your mother up to me. You have until breakfast to give me your answer.
And don’t think you can slip out and run away. I’ve alerted the men who patrol
the grounds.” He turned and stormed into his study.
Slowly, Zenobia rose and dragged
herself to her room.
Marcy hurried inside and closed the
door behind her. “I overheard. Do you believe the threat? About the asylum, I
mean.”
“Oh, he’s serious all right. I have no
doubt he’d do anything to get rid of me, especially if it means more money for
him. He only married mother because of her wealth and he’s already spent so
much of her money.”
Marcy sat beside her on the bed. “What
are you going to do?”
Zenobia looked into her best friend’s
eyes. “I don’t know but I won’t marry Percy Lawton. He is just despicable.”
“I agree. He gives me shivers and I’ve
taken care to never let him catch me alone, especially after what he tried to
do to Bessie. Only Hoskins’ appearance saved her.”
“And my stepfather didn’t even care. He
still regards Percy as his best friend. I have to think of something to avoid
marrying the man.”
“Perhaps you could pretend while you
decide what you’re going to do instead.”
Zenobia mulled over that suggestion.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll say I want a June wedding. That will give me two
months to think of something else and get away from here.”
Marcy looked relieved. “You know I’ll
help you anyway I can.”
“We have to keep up the pretense that
we dislike each other. Otherwise, he’ll move you elsewhere and hire as my
lady’s maid some detestable person who’ll tattle my every move to him.”
“We’ve fooled everyone so far. All of
the servants think I dislike you. I know some report to your stepfather. I’m
not sure which ones so I just pretend to all of them, even those who dislike me
for it.”
“I’m sorry some are unpleasant to you
because of your loyalty. You know I
appreciate your help keeping me safe.”
“Now we have to think what to do.”
Zenobia gazed at the woman she
considered her best friend. “You know you’ll have to leave when I do or he’ll
hold you responsible. He can be vicious.”
Marcy hugged her arms. “Don’t I know it?
I saw him when he fired the stable boy. I thought he was going to kill the boy
first and all the child had done was fail to hang up a bridle in the way he’d
been instructed.”
“I’d already been thinking about us
leaving. Today I saw an ad for mail-order brides. I’ve been considering contacting
the agency.”
Marcy’s eyes widened and she stood. “But,
then you’d be marrying a stranger.”
“I’d rather marry a stranger than marry
Percy. There’s an agency here in Atlanta. The ad says they thoroughly check
each prospective groom.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad, then. But
how will you get there? I’ll bet Mr. Beveridge has us followed.”
Zenobia was certain she was watched. “I’m
sure Hoskins is one of his informants but he’s the only one who drives the
coach. We’ll have to be very cautious.”
She rose and paced as she clicked off
the steps she’d take. “As you suggested,
in the morning I’ll tell my stepfather that I’ll marry Percy. I’ll say I want a
June wedding. Then I’ll say I need to go shopping for my trousseau. Of course,
he’ll send you with me.”
She walked to her dressing table and
sat down. “If I’m going to be a mail-order bride I’ll have to cook and clean.
Where can I learn?”
Marcy shook her head. “I know how to
iron and press clothes. I can get stains out of some fabrics but the laundress
does the real clothes washing. My mom and older sisters did all the cooking and
cleaning at home until I went into service. My job was always taking care of
the little ones.”
Marcy helped Zenobia out of her dress
and into her night clothes. “If you become a mail-order bride I don’t think
you’ll have a lady’s maid.”
“Or any other kind of servant. This is
why I have to learn to cook and clean. Think about this tonight. When we go
shopping tomorrow we’ll look for somewhere to learn.”
The next morning at breakfast, Zenobia
sat at her stepfather’s right. “If you’ll allow me to have a June wedding then I’ll
marry Percy Lawton. Papa, I’ve always dreamed of being a June bride.”
Her stepfather put down his paper and
gave her a hearty smile. “I’m certainly glad to see you’ve come to reason. I’ll
let him know today.”
She kept her eyes lowered. “Of course,
I’ll need some new clothes for my trousseau. And, please, don’t think I’m going
to take Marcy as a lady’s maid when I go. She is just too annoying.”
Her stepfather kept smiling. “I’m sure
Percy will get you the maid of your choice. In the meantime, make sure you
choose clothing suitable for the wife of a man of Percy’s standing in the
community.”
She feigned surprise. “You can’t believe
his social station is higher than yours?”
Her stepfather preened and picked up
his paper again. “Perhaps slightly. At any rate, he entertains more and goes to
more social occasions. See you don’t embarrass him or me.”
Zenobia bit her lip to keep from
smiling. “I will, Papa.” She waited a few minutes. “Didn’t I see Mama’s lawyer
visit yesterday? Did he come about her will?”
A frown returned to her stepfather’s
face then he quickly smiled and patted her hand. “Don’t worry your pretty head
about such things. Leave those matters to me, my dear. Everything is being
taken care of.”
Pretty head, huh? She suspected he was
up to something but couldn’t imagine how to learn what. Somehow, she managed to
finish her meal and excuse herself.
Back in her room, she called Marcy loud
enough to be overheard. “We’ll be going shopping today. Alert Hoskins we’ll
need the carriage then get in here, you lazy girl, and help me change.”
Outside, Zenobia told Hoskins where she
wished to go. When they were in the closed carriage, they whispered so he
wouldn’t be able to overhear.
“As soon as he drops us off, we’ll send
him away and tell him to pick us up there at four. I’ll order a wedding dress
and several others in case my stepfather checks. Mme. Olga will let us slip out
the back. From there we can get a hansom cab.”
Marcy’s eyes widened. “Are you sure she
won’t tell?”
“I’ll let her think I’m going to
rendezvous with a man. I’ve heard she does this all the time and won’t even
question me. She’s very romantic.”
“And devious apparently. I suppose she
has to be in order to keep her business thriving.”
“Oh, yes, Mama said many married women
cheat on their husbands. This way, Madame Olga insures their loyalty while
billing their husbands—and I suppose has means to blackmail them if she chooses.
Regardless, I think that’s emotional blackmail.”
Marcy tilted her head to gaze at her.
“Are you going to cheat on your husband?”
“Certainly not. That doesn’t mean I
can’t take advantage of Mme. Olga’s proclivities.”
Marcy clamped a hand over her mouth to
stifle her giggling.
After assuring Madame Olga that she
would be ordering a lot of clothing, Zenobia and Marcy slipped out the back.
Walking quickly to the next street they hailed a hansom cab. Zenobia gave the
driver the matchmaker’s address.