Whitney Bailey - A Mistaken Match

“You were nervous. To be honest, so was I.”

James sucked in a lungful of air and pushed his words out in one long breath. “It was more than that. I was surprised because I expected a plain girl. An ugly girl, even.”

Ann rubbed her aching temples. What on earth was he talking about? She’d also expected an ugly match, and had been pleasantly surprised. If only every girl at the agency, and every lonely bachelor in America could be so fortunate. “Forgive me, but I’m afraid I don’t see the trouble.”

James ran both hands through his hair until it stood up in tufts. “I requested the agency send me someone as plain as they come. That was my one and only request.”

Ann shook her head. She knew James McCann might have many valid reasons for rejecting her as a wife, and she had steeled herself for all of them. But she’d never expected him to outright lie. She squeezed her hands together to keep them from trembling. “No man would ask for such a thing.”

James sighed. “I did. Farm life can be hard. I knew a pretty girl would expect more than I could give her. I don’t need that kind of nonsense.”

Ann’s cheeks grew hot. Her heart thudded so loud she feared he could hear it. “Why go through an agency at all? I’m sure America has as many ugly girls as England.” She winced at the harshness of her own voice. She’d never been good at keeping her temper. Ann bit her lip.

James brow creased. “I thought someone who needed to find a husband through an agency would have no other alternatives.”

A shiver coursed through her. James McCann had described her situation perfectly. Still, she bristled with irritation on behalf of all the other girls at the agency. “You thought all mail-order brides were desperate.”

“No, no.” He waved his hands as if to bat the words out of the air. “I meant no disrespect.”

She sat up straighter. “What did you mean?”

“I thought a mail-order bride would be more content with this life.”

“This life?”

“I’ve been working on this farm by myself far too long. Uncle Mac needs tending to. I need a helpmate.”

“And why have you already deemed me unsuitable?”

James dipped his head and smiled sheepishly. “A woman like you couldn’t know what hard work really is.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “A woman like me? I’ll have you know I’ve worked harder than most men all my life.”

James chuckled and coughed to disguise it. “I know you worked as a maid, and I’m sure that is hard work, but it’s not the same as farm life.”

“You have no idea,” she replied between clenched teeth. The labor of farm life seemed a sweet reprieve in comparison to her former occupation. Her neck burned with heat and she clenched her hands until the nails cut into her palms as she fought to control her wretched temper.

He dropped his gaze and turned away. “You don’t understand. Regardless, you’re to be someone else’s bride. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so surprised by your beauty, I would have put you right back on that train the instant I laid eyes on you.”

“Back on the train to where?”

“I know some other girl is supposed to be here instead of you, and you’re supposed to be married to some rich banker in California. Or an oil baron in Texas. I’ll send a telegram in the morning, so they know of the mistake, and a letter going into more detail. When we hear back from the agency, we’ll make the proper arrangements.”

How could she fight this? James believed the agency sent her by mistake. In her heart, for her own reasons, she agreed. She took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. “It could be weeks before we hear from the agency. What shall we do until then?”

“Only a few people knew you were coming, but I suppose there’s no way to hide your presence now. We’ll tell everyone the truth. We’re getting to know one another. When you leave they’ll assume you didn’t like me.”

Ann laughed bitterly. James didn’t join her. “You aren’t serious?” she asked.

“Those who know I chose an agency to find a bride already think I’m peculiar. It won’t seem odd to them that you decided not to marry me. And with Uncle Mac here, there’s no reason for anyone to think the arrangement improper.”

“And what if you change your mind about me in the meantime?” Her stomach plummeted and her cheeks burned. Why had she asked that? He must think her positively desperate.

James’s feet stopped tapping and his eyes locked with hers. “You aren’t supposed to be here, Ann. We must right this mistake.”

The resolve in his voice broke something inside her. Her body ached with exhaustion. She’d come so very far, only to be turned away. Soon she’d be completely alone in this world. Ann had been so afraid of rejection, but never in her wildest dreams had she believed it would be because of this. She blinked hard, but it didn’t squelch the tears. They spilled over her lashes and spattered the tabletop.

James reached for her hand and squeezed it tight. She allowed him to hold it, though she desired to wrench it away. “Ann, you’re a fine girl. Any man would be proud to have you as his wife. But I’m also certain if you’re here, some heartbroken fool has been sent the homeliest girl in all of England.” She forced a laugh, and he gripped her hand tighter. She wanted to squeeze his hand back until he yelped in pain. “Don’t you see? We must make this right.”

She nodded, but the desire to pinch his fingers between her own remained. Ann dried her tears with a handkerchief from her pocket, and James excused himself to fill her pitcher. The moment the door closed behind him she snatched the papers from the table and turned them over.

Dear Mrs. Turner,

It is with regret I must write to you so soon. Your agency assured me you would deal with any issues should they arise, and I have an urgent and pressing concern. As you must recall, my only request for a match was the girl be plain. The match you have sent to me, Miss Ann Cromwell, is the most beautiful girl I have ever—

The letter ended there and she flipped the pages back over a second before James returned. He handed her the pitcher.

“I should have voiced my concern the moment we met. Please forgive me.”

Ann forced a weak smile. “It was an overwhelming moment for us both.”

His shoulders slackened and he let out a long breath. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Back in her bedroom, Ann splashed her face with cold water and tried to absorb what had happened. Mrs. Turner’s voice echoed in her head, as clear as in her office. This is your match, Ann. You must try to make it work. No dejected and miserable banker had greeted his plain bride today, with only his immense wealth to ease his disappointment. No lonely oil baron. If James didn’t want her, no one did. The agency intended her to be here or nowhere.

As she readied for bed, Ann sorted through her hopelessly tangled thoughts. There had to be something she could do. She’d been faced with a seemingly insurmountable hardship before. She would simply have to work out her next course of action. She stretched out on the bed and stared at a crack in the ceiling. She had to think! She couldn’t return to London. Even if she could somehow pay for the passage, it pained her to even contemplate the life waiting for her there. No, she could not go back.

She had only one choice. Stay in America. Hadn’t she heard someone on the steamship call it “the land of opportunity”? But could a young girl really support herself here, with no family and no references?

Ann couldn’t cook, of that she was certain, but her years of experience as a maid had to be an asset. She hadn’t noticed many fine houses in New Haven, but there must be wealthy people nearby, and the wealthy were always in need of domestic help. She only had to seek them out and offer her services. She’d never imagined working as a scullery maid again, but without references, she would have to start again at the bottom. The wages were sure to be poor, and the tasks backbreaking, but they were backbreaking in England, too, and she’d survived them before. She was still young, strong. At least she would have food in her belly and a roof over her head.