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  American Mail-Order Brides Series, 42

  Patience, Bride of Washington

  By

  Caroline Clemmons

  Copyright © 2015 by Caroline Clemmons

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Lawrence, Massachusetts

  September 1890

  Patience Eaton and her sister Mercy strolled back from the park near the Merrimack River. They’d met with a group of other single women who’d lost their jobs when Brown’s Textile Mill where they’d worked burned to the ground. As well as worried, Patience was exhausted from the afternoon’s discussion about the few choices concerning their future.

  She and Mercy were two of the hundred women whose jobs had disappeared in smoke when the mill and garment factory was destroyed by fire. Some were married, but only single women were invited to today’s meeting. Many were immigrants who spoke little English, but they’d come to hear what Roberta McDaniel, the former bookkeeper for Brown’s, had to advise.

  Patience glanced at her sister and waved their shared copy of the Grooms’ Gazette. “What did you think of Roberta’s suggestion that we find husbands by mail?”

  Mercy shook her head and sent her auburn curls bouncing. “There must be a better way than moving to who knows where and taking a chance on whether we’d end up with a man we could even tolerate.”

  “I’d hate to leave you and the boys and Mama and Papa. We have to find steady work soon, though. Papa can’t support all of us, especially now that his cough is worse and he’s always tired. I’m not sure he’ll be able to teach much longer.”

  Mercy studied her with alarm. “You don’t think he’s…he’s—”

  “I hope not, but he’s not well, Mercy. We must help with finances by finding employment, even if what we find isn’t what we like doing.”

  Her sister grimaced. “We didn’t like working at Brown’s Textile Mill, but we did our jobs well. After my recent disaster, I don’t even stand a chance. Everywhere I’ve applied, I’ve been turned away.”

  “Being reduced to working as a housemaid after being a secretary at Brown’s is demeaning. Honestly, I have nothing against those who scrub and clean for others except that Papa educated us for better positions.”

  Mercy’s usually sunny countenance changed to one of dejection. “He’s right and we should take the teacher certification test, but I would hate spending all day teaching students like the Perkins boys.”

  “I enjoy being around well-behaved children, but I want nothing to do with teaching. Corralling children like those Perkins boys or like that brat Amaryllis Ferris whose mother thinks she can do no wrong must be awful.”

  Mercy’s somber expression intensified. “That would be worse than scrubbing chamber pots. Mrs. Ferris is always fussing at Amaryllis’ teacher and then complaining to neighbors about how her precious daughter’s teacher picks on her. Although Mr. and Mrs. Perkins believe the teacher, they can’t control the twins. At least scrubbing is work that doesn’t talk back.”

  Patience shivered. “Or put snakes in your desk or tacks on your chair. I wish I could find secretarial or accounts work. No one will even consider me without a letter of recommendation from Mr. Brown.”

  “Don’t you wonder where he’s gone? I suppose he had insurance on the factory but you’d think he’d have a care for all the people who worked for him.”

  Patience harrumphed. “He never showed any when the factory was open.”

  “True. At least you have a job.”

  Patience gave her sister’s shoulder a squeeze. “But, I worry about the place I’ve found. Mrs. Forsythe’s face looks as if she just ate a sour pickle and her husband actually leered at me.”

  Her sister’s eyes widened. “Papa and Mama won’t want us working where we’re not safe. Working in a mill was dangerous but our virtue was safe. You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  Patience pretended confidence she didn’t possess. “Of course. Don’t say anything to our parents about Mr. Forsythe.” She marched up the steps and opened their home’s front door.

  Patience laid her Grooms’ Gazette on the table. “Roberta McDaniel sought to convince us to sign up as mail-order brides.”

  Their father, Moses Eaton, sat in his favorite chair and looked up from his book. “And what sort of idea is that? I’ve never heard of such a thing. How does it work?”

  Mercy plopped onto the sofa. “A woman signs up with a matrimonial agency and they match her with one of the men who’ve written asking for wives. Roberta suggested an Elizabeth Miller in Beckham. Apparently she’s already contracted with the matchmaker and soon will be moving to Wisconsin to marry.”

  Patience sat by her sister. “Roberta said women are especially scarce west of the Mississippi and many men are writing to find wives. But we’re certain we can find jobs here. Remember I start work for the Forsythe family tomorrow.”

  A frown furrowed her father’s brow. “I’m acquainted with Geoffrey Forsythe. Don’t care for him. He’s not the most honorable of men.”

  Patience sent her kind father what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not going to associate with them socially, just clean their house.” Privately, she worried about successfully evading Mr. Forsythe.

  Mama said, “Patience, don’t let anyone take advantage of you. Keep your temper. If the situation is unbearable, just leave.”

  Embarrassment swept through her at her mother’s reminder. “I won’t cause another scene, Mama.” At least she hoped she wouldn’t. Recalling the way Mr. Forsythe had assessed her as if she were goods for sale, she wondered.

  Her father met her gaze. “Patience, keep in mind Mr. Harmon almost sued us. Even though you were justified in being angry, dumping the chamber pot on his head was not the best course of action. You’re supposed to be the level-headed one.”

  Mercy leapt to her feet. “Pap-a-a? I didn’t mean to break Mr. Lampton’s arm with the poker. I warned him not to come any closer. The silly man thought I was playing a game and that taking liberties would be doing me a favor. I was hired to work as a maid, not as a…a concubine.”

  Papa sighed. “I realize the awful position you were put in, Mercy, but violence is never the answer. You girls are too well-educated to work as maids. Find work in an office or take the teacher’s examination.”

  Patience grabbed her sister’s hand. “We’ll do better, Papa.”

  ***

  Several months passed with unrewarding but less disastrous results in their job situations. One day when Patience arrived home, her sister met her at the door.

  Excitement sparkling in her eyes, Mercy handed her an envelope. “You’ve a letter from Roberta. Oh, do open it right away. I’m dying to learn the contents. Mama has tea ready. Come into the kitchen and tell us what Roberta has to say.”

  “I wrote her months ago and had given up on an answer. Let’s sit down.”

  Patience took her usual chair. Mercy plopped down and leaned her elbows on the table, her pretty face appearing eager for news. Mama and Papa listened as well.

  After opening and unfolding the missive, Patience read aloud,

  “February 15, 1891


  My dear friend Patience,

  I miss you and Mercy a great deal. Although I’m late in writing, you are both constantly in my thoughts and prayers.

  It sounds like you have kept things—well, lively is the best word I can think of. You and Mercy certainly are setting Massachusetts on its ear. Has either of you considered being a mail-order bride?

  I'm quite happy in Wisconsin. My husband has shown me what love is all about. My new step-sons are good boys, even if they do call me a frog on a regular basis. I believed our family was complete once we adopted the puppy (and the cat, and the rabbits) but now I've discovered I'm expecting as well.

  What's even better is that Sarah and I discovered on Christmas Eve that we're not a day's train ride apart as we'd thought. Instead, we're married to half-brothers (same mother, different father and last name) and live a fifteen minute rowboat ride across a bay from one another. Imagine my surprise when she walked into my house when I was expecting a stranger. We both wept with joy. My husband chalked it up to my emotions being on high because of the baby, but you know as well as I do that it was because sweet Sarah is close enough that I can see her every week if I care to. (And I do!)

  Sarah says she's quite happy as well and she told me to send you her regards. Both of us saved all of our letters to read on Christmas, thinking they were wonderful gifts from our friends, so we were able to share them. Give our love to Mercy.

  Thinking of you often,

  Roberta Muller”

  Papa sat at the table, his face solemn. He coughed then asked, “Am I correct, this was from the woman who gave you that groom paper last fall and suggested you contact a matchmaker?”

  Patience smiled at her dear father. “Yes, she was in charge of accounts at Brown’s and Sarah was her roommate and best friend. How wonderful they live so near one another now.”

  Mercy clapped her hands. “Who would have dreamed they’d marry brothers? How fitting and I’m so happy for them.”

  That evening when the household had retired, Moses Eaton crept back into the parlor. Tying his worn robe about him, he retrieved the Grooms’ Gazette from the drawer where he’d hidden the paper. He used his candle to light the lamp, keeping the wick low.

  He poured over men’s names then changed his mind and sought the identity at the top, Elizabeth Miller, Matchmaker. Pondering over possibilities, he decided this Miller woman might be better able to select the proper candidates. After opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a several sheets of paper, took up his pen, and carefully composed a lengthy letter. He’d just blotted the ink on the last page when a sound startled him.

  With a yawn, his wife shuffled in, tugging her wrapper around her. “What’s wrong? Why are you up at this hour?”

  “Dottie love, come read this letter I’ve written.”

  “Moses, why on earth are you writing letters at this time of night?” She stood beside him while she scanned the pages.

  When she’d finished, she handed him the sheets of paper with a trembling hand. “The girls could end up far away from us. We could lose both of them at once and never see them again.”

  “You saw that I asked for prosperous grooms who would be good providers. That means our girls would have the funds to travel for an occasional visit. More importantly, they’d be secure.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  Her pleading eyes forced him to be honest. “All I’m sure of is I can barely support our family, Dottie. You see what’s happened since the factory fire.”

  He paused for a coughing spell then stood and held her in his arms. “The girls will never find a proper husband or a good job here. If they go west and don’t like the men they’re paired with, they can refuse to marry them. If women are that scarce, they’ll both find suitable men right away.”

  “You’re right about the lack of jobs here. Just yesterday I mentioned to our neighbor Mrs. Foster that both Patience and Mercy had trouble finding a good position. She said, ‘What woman would hire such a pretty girl to tempt her husband?’ She’s right, of course.”

  “Love, we have to think of the girls’ future instead of ourselves. I intend to find them successful husbands so they’ll never want for anything. They won’t have to scrimp to feed a family the way you do.”

  She caressed his cheek. “Ah, I never mind counting pennies. I would do anything for you. You’re a wonderful husband and father and excellent teacher not to blame for our finances. I couldn’t be happier than I am with you.”

  Grateful for his blessings, he kissed her cheek. “Good of you to say, my love, but I want our children to have more than I’m able to give you. Can’t our girls can fall in love with a wealthy man as easily as with a poor one? When the time comes, perhaps the boys will have the same luck with women of property.”

  Dottie laughed and hugged him. “You’re a caution, Moses Eaton. No wonder I love you as I do. Let’s hope you’re right and they draw wealthy husbands. We could rest easier knowing they were well cared for and happy.”

  His goal was to see his children in better circumstances than that of his beloved wife and his. He wanted his sons to go to university and have any career they chose. That life had slipped from his grasp, but he’d do what he could to ensure his children weren’t forced to live in rented rooms with insufficient funds to buy all they needed.

  He hugged his wife’s shoulders. “And now, we’d better rest easy in our bed so we can face tomorrow. I’ll post the letter on my way to school.”

  Arms around one another, they walked toward their room.

  ***

  A week later, Patience and Mercy received another letter addressed to both of them, this time from their cousin Jessie.

  Mama dried her hands on her apron. “Hurry, girls. I could hardly wait to hear what Jessie has to say. I hope that rascal father of hers hasn’t done something terrible.”

  Patience gave Mercy the letter. “I opened the one from Roberta. You open this one.”

  Mercy hurriedly broke the seal and pulled out a sheet of paper. She read aloud,

  Dear Mercy and Patience,

  I am so relieved to know you (both) were safe from the fire. I pray the others were safe as well (—and that poor girl was able to regrow her hair).

  Please forgive me for my delayed response. You know I'm terrible with my correspondence anyway, but lately I've been...distracted! Oh, dear cousins, I must tell you, after reading your last letter, I decided if all the girls from the factory were going to become mail-order brides—then I would, too! I'll be traveling to Charleston next week to catch my train so please cease writing to me until you hear more from me. Papa still isn’t aware of my plans and I should hate for him to cause you any trouble for helping me.

  I confess that I despair my trip to Charleston will be the most unpleasant part of my journey as I have no other means to get there than to persuade that scoundrel Joel Cunningham to take me. (A chore of which I am not looking forward with great excitement, I assure you.)

  I'll write to you again when I reach Montana to let you know I am safe and tell you all about my new husband!

  With Love,

  Cousin Jessie

  Mama said, “If only Martha were still alive. I always said that rascal Lionel Wilcox’s highhanded tactics would cause Jessie to do something rash.”

  She caught her breath and her eyes widened. “Not that being a mail-order bride is a bad thing, but having to run away certainly is. And being alone with a man she’s not married to will ruin her reputation. Oh, I begged my sister not to marry Lionel, but she wouldn’t listen. And then he moved them off to South Carolina.”

  Patience hugged her mother. “Now, Mama, don’t get all upset over Aunt Martha’s sad situation again. You can’t help Jessie by getting yourself into a state.”

  Folding the letter, Mercy nodded. “That’s right, Mama. Jessie sounds excited. She can’t ruin her reputation if she’s going to be in Montana. Who there will be aware of the difference?”


  Mama’s nervousness showed because her fingers twisted her apron. “I pray you’re right. I haven’t done right by Jessie. I had hoped with her moving here in Lawrence I could look after her better than her father has.”

  Patience said, “Mama, you’ve sent her letters of advice on growing up a lady. Other than having her live with us, which Uncle Lionel wouldn’t agree with, you’ve done all you possibly could for her.”

  Mercy came to embrace her mother. “You know she loves you and she knows you love her. You’ve given her kind encouragement since Aunt Martha died. I know Aunt Martha is pleased as she looks down on us.”

  Mama dabbed at her eyes. “You’re wonderful daughters. No matter what happens the rest of your lives, you remember this—I love you both more than I can say and am so proud of the women you’ve grown to be.”

  ***

  On an April evening, Papa met Patience and Mercy as they entered the house. With Mama’s hand in his, he gestured with the other. “Girls, come into the parlor. Your mother and I have something important to discuss with you.”

  Patience exchanged a glance with Mercy. “Papa, I’m sorry about Mr. Higginbotham. You told me to just leave if anything unsuitable occurred, but his groping me from behind surprised me. I reacted on instinct and that’s why he has a black eye. There’s no permanent damage from that or the kick I gave him. My temper got the best of me but I did walk away after that. I-I searched for another position today.”

  Her sister volunteered, “I did, too, Papa. I’ll find something and so will Patience.”

  Her father shook his head. “You won’t find a suitable job, either of you. That’s why I’ve taken matters into my own hands. Sit down and I’ll explain.”

  Patience had prepared herself for a lecture from their father. Not that he would berate her for failing to tolerate that ogre Higginbotham’s advances, but she shouldn’t have struck the man so hard. If she were truthful, she didn’t regret the punch she gave him, nor the kick to his nether regions. She did sadly regret the loss of the paltry wage she’d received as his secretary. With a sigh, she sat beside her sister on the sofa and gave Papa her full attention.