Mail-Order Miranda (Brides of Beckham) Read online

  MAIL-ORDER MIRANDA

  Margery Scott

  Copyright © 2017 by Margery Scott

  All rights reserved

  ***

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  ***

  Chapter One

  Miranda Lowe muttered an unladylike word as the kindling tumbled down into a heap, taking the pile of coal she’d so carefully placed with it. The coal shattered on the marble hearth, crumbs exploding into the air. For some reason, today her fingers were all thumbs and she couldn’t seem to build a fire even though she did it a dozen times every morning.

  “Why aren’t you finished lighting the fires yet?” The shrill voice echoed off the walls of the Tolliver mansion’s drawing room. Mrs. Tolliver marched across the room toward Miranda. Her hawkish gaze slid down Miranda’s length, her lips thinning.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Tolliver,” Miranda said, “I—”

  Mrs. Tolliver waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. Get them done immediately, and clean up the mess you’ve made, you stupid girl. I don’t know why I’ve kept you on here for so long when you can’t even set a fire properly.”

  Miranda’s stomach clenched. She lowered her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then why are you still standing there? Get back to work!”

  Mrs. Tolliver spun around and walked away, her footsteps muffled on the thick carpet.

  Miranda knelt back down on the hearth to finish setting the fire in the massive stone fireplace.

  “I expect all the silverware to be cleaned and the guest rooms to be done and aired out before the guests arrive as well,” Mrs. Tolliver called out behind her. Then the door slammed.

  Miranda sighed. This was to be her lot for the rest of her life, she supposed. The head housekeeper wasn’t even close to retirement, not that she’d want the job anyway. She couldn’t imagine herself ordering people around and being in charge of anything. Hadn’t she been told her whole life that she wasn’t pretty enough or smart enough to amount to anything?

  The door opened and Lily, her best friend and one of the other maids in the Tolliver household, walked in carrying a dustmop. “Her Highness is really on the warpath this morning, isn’t she?” she said after making sure no one was within earshot.

  Mrs. Tolliver treated everyone as if they were peasants and she was the Queen of England. They’d given her that nickname four years before when both Lily and Miranda had come to work at the house. “As long as I stay out of her way as much as possible, the day will be much more pleasant. I’m off for four hours tomorrow.”

  “I don’t have any time off until next week,” Lily complained. “If only I could find a husband ...”

  Miranda smiled at her friend. Finding a husband was as likely as finding a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, she mused. How was it even possible to meet a man when she worked fourteen hours a day, every day except Sunday? And even then, she only got four hours off, long enough to go to church and have a short visit with her sister who lived a few blocks away.

  She arranged the kindling back in the fireplace on top of the newspapers and piled the coal on top. Reaching into her apron pocket, she dug out a box of matches, then struck one and held the flame against the paper until it caught fire.

  She sat back on her heels for a moment, watching as the flames licked at the kindling. Then, satisfied the fire wasn’t going to go out, she got to her feet and swept up the mess she’d left on the hearth.

  Suddenly, the door burst open and one of the kitchen maids rushed in. It was unusual to see any of the kitchen staff upstairs in the house. Miranda gave her a curious glance.

  The maid’s face was flushed, her voice panicked. “Miranda! Miranda!”

  Miranda’s heart jumped into her throat. “What is it? “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Beth …” she said, her breaths coming in loud gasps. “The baby’s coming. A boy came to the door ... said to tell you to come quick.”

  The coal scuttle fell from Miranda’s hand, clattering on the hearth. Coal spilled out, spewing coal dust onto the floor and into the air.

  Miranda scrambled to her feet, the mess forgotten. Her pulse raced, and a chill washed over her. “What’s happened?”

  “Don’t know. He just said to hurry.”

  For a few moments, Miranda was frozen in place. Suddenly, she felt Lily’s hands on her back. “Go,” she said, giving Miranda a gentle shove toward the door. “I’ll clean up the mess, and if we’re lucky, Her Highness won’t even realize you’re gone before you’re back.”

  “Thank you.” Miranda untied her apron, pulled it over her head and half-tossed it at Lily. “I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”

  Her shoes clicked on the marble floor as she raced through the hallways and down the stairs to the kitchen and the back door.

  A light drizzle was falling when Miranda stepped outside, but she didn’t want to take the time to go back to her small room on the third floor to get her umbrella. She needed to get to Beth as quickly as possible.

  Miranda had taken care of Lily since their parents were killed in a carriage accident five years before. Miranda had been lucky enough to find employment in the Tolliver household and Beth had begun working in one of the factories in Beckham when she’d finished school. She’d fallen in love with the owner’s son, a scoundrel who’d ruined her and left her expecting his child.

  Beth had been fired from her job and Miranda had used all her savings to support her. Now, finally, the baby was coming. Soon, they’d be able to leave Beckham and build a new life somewhere far away where no one knew about the child.

  Miranda ran the whole way to the rooming house where Beth lived and climbed the stairs to the third floor. A small, stout man with mutton whiskers and ruddy cheeks and a woman with a mop of frizzy white hair were standing outside Beth’s door.

  “Are you Miranda?” the man asked.

  “I am,” she replied, her breaths coming in short gasps.

  “I’m Dr. Pratt. This is Elsie, the midwife.”

  It was then Miranda noticed the blood staining the man’s shirt. Her heart began to thump wildly in her chest. “Why are you here? The midwife—”

  “She sent for me. Your sister ran into some trouble delivering the child—”

  “Then why aren’t you inside looking after her? Is she all right? And the baby?”

  “There was too much bleeding,” the doctor said quietly. “I did everything I could, but it wouldn’t stop. I’m sorry ...”

  Miranda saw the doctor’s lips moving, but the pounding of her pulse in her ears drowned out his words. The world spun, and she sank to the floor.

  ***

  Two hours later, Miranda trudged down the lane behind the Tolliver house to the back door and stepped inside. If she was lucky, she could get to her room with
out running into Mrs. Tolliver or Miss James, the head housekeeper. She needed to change her uniform and do something with her hair before she went back to work. She had no time now to grieve. That would come later, after their work was done and she could crawl into her bed in the room she shared with Lily.

  After the doctor and the midwife had left, she’d stayed and held Beth’s hand until the undertaker had come and taken Beth and her baby away. The funeral would be held the next afternoon at the small church that Beth and Miranda had attended since they were born. She’d made sure Beth and her baby would be buried together. She had no idea how she’d pay for it, but the minister she’d spoken too had sympathized and had told her not to concern herself with that at the moment. She thought he’d said something about a special fund for cases like hers, but she was in such a brain fog she couldn’t really remember.

  She was grateful to the minister for his kindness and thankful that Beth and her child wouldn’t be buried in a pauper’s grave.

  Miranda had almost reached the top of the stairs when Mrs. Tolliver’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

  She turned and looked down. Mrs. Tolliver was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her hands on her hips, her lips pressed into a hard line. “Come down here at once,” she said.

  Miranda knew she was in deep trouble, but surely even Mrs. Tolliver would understand why she’d left in such a hurry, and without permission.

  “I’m sorry,” Miranda began. “My sister—”

  “I cannot have you all running off willy-nilly whenever the mood suits you.”

  “It was an emergency,” she protested. “I would have asked permission before I left, but there was no time, and Lily said—”

  “Yes, she told me your sister had an accident. How is she?”

  By the bored expression on her face, it was obvious Mrs. Tolliver wasn’t really interested and was only asking out of propriety. “She died,” she said quietly.

  “Oh ... well, my condolences.”

  “I didn’t even get a chance to see her,” Miranda went on. “I’m terribly sorry I left so suddenly, and Lily offered to—”

  “I’ll be speaking with Miss James about her, too. She has her own duties to perform without doing yours as well.”

  Even though Miranda’s grief was overwhelming, guilt was building as well. Not only was she in trouble, but now her best friend would be the brunt of Miss James’s anger, too. “She was trying to help. It won’t happen again.”

  Mrs. Tolliver glared at her. “You’re right. It won’t. Your behavior was unacceptable. I’m relieving you of your duties here.”

  “What?”

  “While I sympathize with your loss, I can’t have people in my employ that I can’t rely on, you understand.”

  Miranda didn’t understand at all. She’d worked in the Tolliver house for four years, and this was the first time she’d ever left the house when it wasn’t her scheduled time off.

  “I’ll speak to Miss James. Whatever is owed to you will be waiting for you in the kitchen when you’ve packed your things.”

  “But—”

  “Let this be a lesson to you, Miranda. No employer will care about you or your personal problems, and if you manage to find a position in another household, it’s to your advantage to remember that.”

  Miranda’s mouth hung open as Mrs. Tolliver spun on her heel and walked away.

  ***

  It didn’t take long for Miranda to pack her few belongings in a worn carpetbag, and within the hour, she walked out the back door of the Tolliver house for the last time. She had no idea where she was going or how she was going to survive, but at least she had the daily newspaper Lily had slipped to her on the way out. She’d find somewhere to sit and look at the ads, and hopefully find a place to live and another job.

  All she wanted to do was hide away somewhere and release the grief suffocating her, but she had no time to wallow in self-pity. If she didn’t find another job today, she wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep. She couldn’t even go back to Beth’s rooming house. The landlord had made it clear he had people waiting for a room.

  She’d heard about what could happen to women who were homeless, and the thought of spending the night in an alley somewhere or sleeping on a park bench terrified her.

  A short time later, she found herself wandering down Beckham’s main street. The rain had stopped, and even though a few clouds remained in the sky, the sun was shining. Birds chirped in the trees, children were already back outside playing in the puddles, and people were hurrying about on their errands.

  Miranda’s stomach gurgled. She hadn’t eaten yet since the fireplaces always had to be cleaned before she was allowed to have breakfast. When she’d heard about Beth, food had been the last thing on her mind.

  She didn’t have much money and she hated to spend any of it on food, but she had to eat something. Turning a corner, she stopped in at a small café and took a table in the corner.

  “Morning, miss,” a young woman said as she approached the table. “What can I get you?”

  “A scone and a cup of tea, please.”

  “Right away, miss.”

  After the waitress left, Miranda took off her gloves and put them in her reticule, then opened the newspaper. Her heart sank when she studied the help wanted ads. She didn’t qualify for even one of the positions advertised. Giving up on finding a job for the moment, she began flipping the pages, searching for a room to rent. A small ad in a box near the bottom of a page caught her eye. “Are you looking for a husband? Adventure? Security? Men out west are anxious to marry. See Miss Elizabeth Miller, 300 Rock Creek Road.”

  The waitress came back with her tea and scone. “Nice and fresh,” she said, setting the plate holding a warm scone and a dollop of butter in front of her. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

  After the waitress moved away to take care of a new customer, Miranda sliced the scone and slathered it with butter, then took a small bite. She’d better eat slowly, since she didn’t know how long it would be before she’d get another meal. She’d have to eat as little as possible to make her few coins last as long as she could.

  As she sipped on her tea, she scoured the ads for a room to rent. Every room she saw advertised was more expensive than she could afford.

  Her eyes drifted back to the ad for women to go west. Could she really marry a man she didn’t know? She could be a good wife. She was sure of that. She was a good cook and she could clean a house and do laundry, but what man would want a woman who looked like a sheepdog, as her mother used to tell her?

  Hopefully, a desperate man would. She was out of options, and it couldn’t hurt to go and see Elizabeth Miller and find out if there was a man out west who wouldn’t mind marrying a woman who was ... ugly.

  She scanned the rest of the ads while she finished her tea and scone, hoping she’d missed something that would help her situation, but found nothing. She paid her bill and stepped outside. Rock Creek Road was only a block from the Tollivers on the well-off side of town. It was only a few blocks away, and she knew if she didn’t go right now, she’d likely not be able to work up the courage later. And then where would she be?

  Chapter Two

  Miranda stood outside the house on Rock Creek Road and took a deep breath before climbing the steps and lifting her hand to the door knocker. She wished she’d worn a dress more becoming than the drab brown one she’d put on when she left her uniform behind, but she hadn’t been thinking straight.

  Almost before she’d finished knocking, the door opened and a young man only a few years older than she was appeared in the entrance. He was quite handsome, and it was plain to see that he was very muscular beneath the butler’s suit he was wearing. “May I help you?” he asked.

  “I ... I’m here to see Miss Elizabeth Miller,” she said, her voice cracking.

  He opened the door wider to allow her inside. “Your name?”

  “Miranda Lowe,” she replied.

  She ha
d to admit she was a little surprised that he didn’t even ask why she wanted to see his employer, but assuming Miss Miller ran an advertisement in the newspaper frequently, she supposed women came to the door regularly.

  “Please follow me.” He turned and led her down a hallway toward the back of the house, then opened a door and stepped aside for her to enter.

  A pretty blonde woman with green eyes looked up from the desk where she was sitting.

  “Miss Miranda Lowe to see you, Miss Miller,” the butler said.

  “Thank you, Bernard,” Miss Miller said, getting up and coming around the desk. She held out her hand. Miranda couldn’t help noticing the difference between hers and Miss Miller’s when she shook it. While Miranda’s hands were work-roughened and callused, Miss Miller’s were soft and her nails perfectly manicured.

  “Bernard, could you please bring us some tea and cookies?” she asked, then turned to Miranda and smiled sweetly. “Or would you prefer coffee?”

  “Tea is fine, thank you,” Miranda replied. She wasn’t hungry or thirsty, but she thought it wise to take whatever food was offered to her. It would save her some money she’d need later.

  After Bernard left, Miss Miller gestured toward a sofa against the wall. “Please have a seat,” she said. “And call me Elizabeth. May I call you Miranda?”

  “Of course,” Miranda said with a slight smile.

  While Elizabeth returned to her desk, Miranda perched on the edge of the sofa. She set her carpetbag on the floor beside her and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Was she really about to apply to become a mail-order bride? Elizabeth seemed to be waiting for her to speak, but she couldn’t seem to form a sentence. “I’m here ... that is ...”

  “You’re here about the advertisement for mail-order brides, aren’t you?”

  Miranda nodded, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed that she was willing to marry a stranger just so she could have a husband.