Isabella_Bride of Ohio Page 2

  I wish father were still alive to handle this. How does one hire an investigation of a gentleman? He sounds perfectly nice, but would father have approved of me marrying this man? What would he have had me do?

  She wrinkled her brow, feeling inadequate to the task she must now undertake to assure her future and her safety.

  Stepping from the train, she followed the directions Roberta McDaniel had given her and soon found herself standing in front of the offices of Mrs. Miller, the matchmaker. She looked up at the sign, took a breath, and squared her shoulders. Then she grasped the door handle and pulled it open to step inside.

  A woman, who must have been Mrs. Miller, bustled about her office as Isabella stepped inside the room. “Mrs. Miller?” Isabella’s voice came out with a tentative note and she stood straighter as she gathered her courage and spoke in a firmer voice. “I’ve come about the ad,” Isabella said.

  “Yes, yes, of course you have,” Mrs. Miller waved to a seat. “Please. Sit down.” She placed another stack of letters on a table, tapped it and said, “These letters go out in one hour. If you have a letter to send best give it to me now.”

  “Well, I,” Isabella faltered and stumbled over her words, “I, well, I was hoping to ask you about the gentleman. For references as to his character and perhaps an investigation could be …”

  Mrs. Miller cut her off. “All the grooms I recommend have been thoroughly checked and there is no need for anything further.”

  How rude. Was this the woman who would represent me to a future husband? Whatever would he think of the woman’s manners? This was certainly not the way father would have had things handled. But perhaps matchmaking was done differently here than in Europe.

  “My father would have insisted on having a potential groom investigated,” Isabella pressed, determined not to let this woman’s impropriety steamroll her.

  Mrs. Miller smiled. “You’re a foreign girl aren’t you? I can tell by your accent. So formal, you foreigners.”

  Isabella smiled back, not sure yet whether she was being patronized. “Though I am from Sweden, I’m American.”

  “Well it shouldn’t be hard to find you a husband. So many of them want blondes.” She eyed Isabella up and down. “Pretty, agreeable blondes. You are young. Never been married?”

  Isabella shook her head. “Never.”

  “No babe on the way? A reason to marry you off quick?”

  “No. No.” Isabella shook her head and frowned.

  Of course not. I’ve never even been kissed.

  “Well, in that case you might have your pick.” Mrs. Miller reached for a stack of papers on her desk and pulled it to her. “Which of the grooms are you interested in?”

  “Mr. Donald Jenks,” Isabella said.

  Mrs. Miller tapped the stack of papers. “We do investigate our grooms especially if they cannot provide letters of reference to satisfy us.” She scanned her lists. “Yes. Jenks. Here he is.” She nodded. “Stable job. Accountant. Owns one home. Pays his creditors on time. No arrests or outstanding debts.” She looked up. “A proper gentleman.”

  “Oh good,” Isabella exhaled, relaxing into her chair. Suddenly she didn’t care if she had been talked down to. Knowing references was such a relief.

  Mrs. Miller continued as if she hadn’t noticed the change in Isabella’s demeanor. “Do you have a letter for him?” She held out her hand.

  “Yes,” Isabella nodded and, sitting up straight again, reached inside her coat pocket for the letter before retrieving it and holding it out to Mrs. Miller. “I hope this is acceptable.”

  Mrs. Miller took the letter but did not open it. “I’m sure it will be fine, dear. Mr. Jenks will pay the fees, so all you need to do is correspond until you reach an understanding. Then he or I will make the arrangements for you to travel to meet him.” Mrs. Miller stood. “It can take up to a month so do not become concerned if you do not hear for several weeks. Now I will take everything from here. You need not worry.”

  “Oh thank you.” Isabella stood following Mrs. Miller’s lead. “I feel so much better knowing that you have verified his information and I know he is a respectable man of good character. Any sort can place an ad, and I was not sure.”

  Mrs. Miller walked her to the door. “Not a thing to worry about my dear. Now be sure to tell your friends from the factory they mustn’t worry. I am sure we can find grooms for all of you. Here at the Grooms' Gazette we pride ourselves on our success in matching the right man with the right woman.”

  “Oh yes,” Isabella nodded. “I will.”

  The return train ride seemed much shorter than the forty-five minute ride to town, though the route was the same. The miles seemed to fly past the window, now that her concerns had been erased. Much of the ride she spent day dreaming out the window of the train, picturing a small wedding in a little country church where she stood wearing her mother’s wedding dress, and where a handsome groom waited for her before taking her to his country home and carrying her across the threshold.

  At the station, she stepped off the train and hurried home to tell Lilly, who hadn’t felt the pressing need to visit Mrs. Miller. Isabella would never have proceeded had she not taken this step, because she knew it was what her father would have wanted.

  “How did it go?” Lilly asked.

  “I feel more confident about proceeding now. It is as if father is watching down on me from heaven,” she told Lilly. “I want to make him proud of me.”

  “I believe,” Lilly said, “he would be quite proud of you.” She reached for the stitching she had begun. “And I am sure you are glad to know Mrs. Miller vouches for these men as Roberta had said she would.”

  “Yes,” Isabella said. “I am glad and relieved.”

  ****

  Standing in church, singing the hymns was a comfort to Isabella. The familiarity of the hymns’ tunes took Isabella back to their old church in Orby, Alvsborg Sweden; to remembering father’s booming voice as he sang beside her and mother’s silent lip singing of the words, for mother could not hold a tune.

  Isabella’s voice was neither booming like her father’s nor tuneless like her mother’s. Soft and sweet, Isabella’s was the perfect voice to sing children to sleep. Though she had taken the job with the Petersons as a house-maid, having heard her sing, she was now also the one to lull their three children to sleep at night. There in the nursery, she would sing softly, watching as the children’s eyes drifted closed and she would dream of having her own children to sing to.

  Today she sang out in church, remembering her father and feeling as if he were right beside her, offering that booming voice and the strength of his support. Hoping she was doing the right thing, she had sent out the letter to Mr. Donald Jenks. Good luck and God willing, she would soon be on her way to a little country house in Yellow Springs, Ohio. It was time to sing a little louder and be brave.

  Chapter Two

  Sitting back down after singing the last hymn, Isabella thought about the letter she had sent. She wondered how Mr. Donald Jenks would respond. It had taken her several tries to compose it, having crumpled up three of them and it wasn’t until Lilly had announced the last one perfect that Isabella had felt confident enough to send it to him.

  Her thoughts now returned to the letter.

  Dear Mr. Donald Jenks,

  I am answering your advertisement in the Grooms’ Gazette for a mail order bride.

  My name is Isabella Britta Stolt. I am seventeen years old, soon to be eighteen, and I am from Sweden. I am one hundred sixty centimeters tall with blonde hair and blue eyes, and am a small boned woman, neither too thin, nor overly round.

  Currently I am living in Lawrence, Massachusetts and was working at the Brown Textile Mill until a week ago when a fire destroyed the building. My parents are deceased and as I have no other living relatives, I have no wish to return to Sweden. I have some modest funds remaining and a temporary job for the next month. Then I must decide what to do next. I have not been in America long
, but I am practicing my English every day. Father was an engineer and I grew up surrounded by books, which gave me a love of reading.

  The city life is not for me. I wish to live in a small home out in the country such as you have described. To be where there are trees, flowers and birds singing sweetly and to be able to watch the stars at night. I wish to live in a good place to raise children. I would like to learn more about your country home. Do you hope to have children? What more do you look for in a wife? I am an excellent hand at sewing and love to embroider. I am a good cook.

  Please tell me more about yourself. I look forward to getting to know you and I look forward to your reply.

  Sincerely,

  Isabella Britta Stolt

  Now that she had sent the letter, there was nothing to do but to wait and pray. She turned her attention back to the service to listen to the sermon after sending up one small prayer.

  Please God, let my husband be a good man.

  Roberta McDaniel had said it could take a month before Isabella would know whether she and Mr. Donald Jenks suited each other, and Mrs. Miller had repeated the message. The best thing to do was to stay busy, and thankfully, this was not difficult, for her work at the Petersons as a house-maid, which now also included tucking the children in at night, sped her days right along.

  Then one day, a letter from Mr. Donald Jenks arrived. Isabella could hardly wait to open it. She tore it open quickly, unfolding the letter and reading as fast as her eyes could race across the page.

  My dear Isabella,

  May I just begin by saying how delighted I am to receive your letter. I was beginning to think no one wanted anything to do with an old accountant!

  From your description of yourself, you sound absolutely lovely. I must admit, however, to having done a bit of research on conversion tables, as I had no idea how tall one hundred sixty centimeters is! After asking around a bit, though, I believe I have worked out your height to be about five foot, three inches. To answer your next question, I believe mine is close to one hundred eighty-eight centimeters. What a pair we shall make when people see us!

  I do offer my condolences, both for your parents and the unfortunate happenings of your old job. On the other hand, I am very glad that you are not without some means of living for a while. Hopefully, I will be able to aid in such endeavors.

  Your words of living in the country warm my heart. I too have a passion in the soothing power of country life. I cannot but help imagine raising children someday, with the same wide-eyed delight in the out-of-doors that you and I seem to share.

  As far as what I look for in a good wife, I believe you have hit the proverbial nail on the head, my sweet. I would like for her to be able to sew and cook, as you do. Of course she must have a good nature about her and an amiable personality that gets along well with others.

  As for myself, I am afraid you are corresponding with a simple man. I enjoy the outdoors, as I stated earlier, but I can also be found with my nose in a ledger, working late into the evening. The only vices I allow myself are the occasional cigar and snifter of brandy. I am not a card-player, nor do I encourage the uncertainty of gambling and chance. People have told me before that I am a good violinist, though to my own ears, I am frightfully inexperienced.

  I hope this goes some way towards satisfying your request for learning about me. Perhaps we can exchange more information in our next letters. Wouldn’t want to give away too much too soon, now, would we? Like you, I look forward to your reply.

  Again, thank you,

  Donald Jenks

  She finished reading the letter and clasped it to her breast as happy tears formed in her eyes.

  Oh it was all so wonderful. He is wonderful. I must write to him straight away.

  She reached for a sheet of paper and began,

  Dear Mr. Donald Jenks,

  I am so happy to receive your wonderful letter. I do not think you are so old! On my father’s side of the family the men lived well into their eighties, except for my father. I still miss him. Thank you for sending your condolences on the loss of both of my parents and my job.

  Everything has been so incredibly difficult since setting foot in America. Oh, how I long for a peaceful, happy and stable home life. One where I am safe, cared for and happy. It is kind of you to offer to help me with a means of living. I confess I do not have the funds to travel to you. It could take quite some time to save enough to travel that far. I have nothing by way of dowry beyond the items in my steamer trunk. I would be coming to you with only two trunks, which contain all I own in the world and myself.

  My temporary job as a house-maid with the Peterson family has brought me joy, which has been a balm to my soul, as I also sing to the children at night before they go to sleep. They are such sweet, dear children. Full of such joy and love. I love singing to them.

  I hope God will bless us with our own when the time is right. With your violin playing and my singing I believe our children could be delightfully musical! I would love to hear you play.

  American measurements are so different than I am used to and one of the things I must adapt to for your country to become my own. I am slow, but once I figure the conversions all is well. Sometimes people misunderstand my slowness to mean I am not good at mathematics. They don’t realize I am converting, doing the mathematical problems they would also be doing in my country. With your accounting work you will likely be much faster at mathematics than I, but I will catch up if you are patient with me. Oh, I am so happy you took the time to do the conversions so that we might understand each other better. I do hope we will grow to understand each other well.

  My goodness, but you are tall! We shall, as you said, make such a pair!

  You have expressed your wish that your wife be of good nature and able to get along well with others. I get along well with others, though I am usually the quiet one. In fact I can be quite shy. Never prone to arguing, and I avoid gossip.

  I am glad you are a simple man who enjoys the outdoors and a gentleman not overly given to vices. If you smoke or enjoy a brandy to relax at the end of a long day, such things are common among the gentlemen of Europe. Perhaps you will find my company relaxing as well. Often in the evenings I read poetry or one of the classics and I also study my Bible. I can see us enjoying a quiet evening at home with a fire crackling in the fireplace.

  There are many questions I would ask but as this letter is already quite long and I must finish it before I go to work, I will limit myself to three questions.

  Do you have family living nearby? Or are you like me, without living relatives?

  What church do you belong to? I was raised Lutheran and have hope of being married in the Lutheran church, wearing my mother’s wedding dress.

  Can you describe your home? What type of house do you have? I do hope there is a garden or that you will allow me to plant one if there is not. Planting and tending to flowers is something I enjoy and have missed since leaving Sweden.

  Thank you again for your wonderful letter. I hope to hear from you soon.

  Looking forward to your reply,

  Isabella

  Closing the letter, she did not wait for Lilly to read her reply this time. The words had flown from her heart to the page in her joy and her feelings of inadequacy had fled.

  Hurrying on to the Petersons, she could not contain her happiness and fairly skipped along as thoughts of how wonderful life with Mr. Donald Jenks could be. The day sped by and soon she was tucking the children in and singing to them again.

  ****

  Had the days flown so fast? Already there was a reply from Mr. Donald Jenks!

  Isabella ripped open the thick package. “Mr. Donald Jenks has sent money.” Isabella glanced over at Lilly. “A large sum of money.”

  The largest sum of money Isabella had ever seen. She stood looking down at her hand, which held the envelope and contents. She fanned the money out without counting it and Lilly’s eyes widened.

  “He is a generous man
,” Lilly said. “You are fortunate.”

  “Yes, he is,” Isabella said. “I had no idea.” Dazed by his generosity she shook her head.

  “What does the letter say?” Lilly leaned forward as if to peer at it for herself.

  Isabella pulled the letter closer to herself and angled away. “I will tell you after I have read it.”

  “Well hurry then!”

  Isabella unfolded the letter. “I am. Hush now while I read.”

  Turning the lamp on the table up, she sat and, grinning, read his words as quickly as she could, barely slowing down to comprehend them.

  Dear Isabella,

  There’s no need to be so formal! I do hope you look forward to meeting me as much as I do to meeting you. Already, I feel like old friends, getting to know so much about one another so fast.

  To answer your questions in order: Regrettably, I have no living family remaining and, as the son of two single children, am the last of my line. Since you bring up the thought of children, I hope you won’t mind me beseeching Heaven with entreaties for sons to carry on the old family name. I believe this brings me very neatly to the next point: that of church.

  Unfortunately, I must disappoint you on several counts, my dear. First, I have not found so much as a single Lutheran church anywhere close to my home. Second, My parents were semi-devout Catholics who, I’m afraid, did not instill a very church-going spirit in their son. Certainly, I have no objection if you would like to regularly attend services wherever you like. Perhaps you may even prove a good influence on this old heathen and get me back into the pew, so to speak.

  My home is one of the brightest parts of my life that I think will attract you. It is a white two-story affair with a porch in front and a garden out back. As I stated in the advertisement, it is out in the country, yet is not too far to preclude a short commute as a normal workday routine. The bedrooms are both upstairs. Downstairs there is, of course, the kitchen, a dining room, my personal study, and a parlor with a lovely fireplace for receiving visitors or relaxing at day’s end. Your vision of us spending quiet evenings together may be more prophetic than you think.