The Substitute Bride. Janet Dean

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СКАЧАТЬ she clung to the sheet and somehow managed to get a knee up on the ledge. Soon both legs dangled from the second-story window. Gathering her courage, she lay on her belly, ignoring the metal stays of her corset pinching her ribs.

      The pounding stopped. She heard a creak on the stairs. Papa must’ve gone in search of Martha and her ring of keys. He’d soon be back.

      Holding her breath, Elizabeth relaxed her fingers, and down she went, faster than a sleigh with waxed runners—until her palms met a knot and broke her grip. She landed on the boxwood with a thud, and then tumbled backward onto the lawn.

      For a moment, she lay sprawled there, dazed, then gathered her wits and scrambled to her feet. No time to gather her clothing. She snatched up her satchel and purse and darted for the cover of the carriage house. Slipping inside, she tore through it and out the back, easy to do since Papa had been forced to sell their carriage.

      Out of sight of the house, she sprinted down the alley past the neighbors’, no small feat in silk slippers. By the time she reached Clinton Street, her breath came in hitches.

      Once Papa found a key and got her door open, he and Reginald would be out searching for her. Two doors down, a hack rounded the corner and dropped off a passenger. She slid two fingers into her mouth and let out one of the peace-shattering whistles that had sent Mama to her bed with a cold compress draped across her brow.

      The hack pulled up beside her. “Where to?”

      Robby’s words marched through her mind. Can you get a job on a farm? So I can have a dog?

      Her brother yearned to live in the country, a good place for a boy. Not that she knew the first thing about the life, but a farm would be far from Reginald.

      Perhaps a farmer’s wife would want help with…whatever a farmer’s wife did. Elizabeth was strong. And she could learn.

      She gave the driver her destination. Then she settled into the corner of the coach and wiggled her hand into the slit she’d made in the lining of her purse. And came up empty.

      A moan pushed past her lips. Papa had taken the small stash of money she’d hidden for just such an emergency. How low would her father stoop to feed his compulsion? She dug to the bottom of her bag and found enough coins to pay the driver. She wilted against the cushions.

      How would she buy a ticket out of town?

      Well, she’d face that later. Knowing she had no money, Papa wouldn’t look for her at the depot, at least at first.

      She wasn’t going to walk down an aisle tomorrow morning, so how bad could her situation be?

      Right before dawn, Elizabeth woke. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, as much as the bench would allow, listening in the dark to every sound. But Papa and Reginald hadn’t come. In fact, no one had paid the least bit of attention to her.

      She twisted her back to get out the kinks, sending three sections of the Chicago Tribune sliding to the floor. Thankfully the news that she’d bedded down at the depot wouldn’t make the Society Page. Not that anything she did these days merited a mention.

      Carrying her possessions, she tossed the newspapers into the trash and strolled to the lavatory. Through the window, the rising sun lit the sky with the promise of a new day. What would this day bring?

      In front of the mirror in the large, tiled room, she pulled a brush through her hair, twisted it into a chignon, and then pinned her hat in place.

      The distant shriek of a whistle shot a shiver along Elizabeth’s spine. She grabbed her belongings and hustled to the platform. Porters hauled trunks and hatboxes to baggage carts while soon-to-depart travelers chatted or stood apart, sleepy-eyed. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. A ticket. She needed a ticket. But tickets cost money. What could she do?

      Smokestack belching and wheels squealing, the incoming train overshot the platform. Amid clangs and squeaks, the locomotive backed into position. Soon passengers flowed from the doors to retrieve luggage and hail hacks.

      Elizabeth had to find a way to board that train. Her stomach piped up. Oh, and a spot of breakfast.

      Near one of the station’s exits a robust, plainly dressed young woman huddled in the corner weeping. Passersby gave her a brief glance then moved on. The stranger met Elizabeth’s gaze. Her flawless skin glowed with health, but from the stricken look in her eyes, she was surely sick at heart.

      Some inner nudge pushed Elizabeth toward her. “Can I help?”

      “I…I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry him.”

      Another woman running from matrimony. “Who?”

      “The man who sent me this.” Out from the woman’s hand stuck a ticket, a train ticket. “Eligible bachelors are few and far between, but…” Tears slid down her ruddy cheeks. “I’m homesick for my family already and I’ve only come as far as Chicago.”

      Pangs of longing for Martha and Robby, even Papa, tore through Elizabeth. She’d left a note, but that wouldn’t stop them from worrying. Worse, Papa and Reginald might appear at any moment.

      “That’s my train.” The stranger pointed to the rail cars across the way. “I feel terrible for spending his money on a trunk full of clothes, then leaving him in the lurch. He’s a fine Christian man and doesn’t deserve such treatment.”

      Elizabeth’s stomach tangled. A twinge of conscience, no doubt for neglecting church since Mama died. For not heeding the Scriptures that Martha read each morning while Papa hid behind the headlines and she and Robby shoveled down eggs. No doubt the reason God hadn’t heard her prayers.

      Her gaze latched onto her means of escape. “I need to leave town. What are you going to do with your ticket?”

      Brushing at her tears, the young woman’s sorrowful eyes brightened then turned thoughtful. “The ticket is yours—if you want it.”

      “You’re giving your ticket to me with no strings?”

      “Well, not exactly no strings.” The woman gave a wan smile. “More like a tied knot.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “My groom’s expecting Sally Rutgers…me. If you’re up to starting a new life, take my place.”

      Elizabeth took a step back. “I couldn’t.”

      “If you don’t like his looks, use this round-trip ticket to take the next train. That was my plan.”

      As Elizabeth scanned the throng milling on the platform, her mind scampered like hungry pigeons after a crust of bread. Marry a stranger? There had to be another way to take care of Robby without marrying anyone.

      Her heart skipped a beat. Not fifty yards away, Papa, looking handsome, vital and by all outward appearance, prosperous, stood talking with Reginald. From under Reginald’s bowler, white tufts of hair fluttered in the breeze.

      Twisting around, Elizabeth grabbed Sally’s arm. “Tell me about this man.”

      “He lives on a farm.” Sally sighed. “Oh, I doubt that appeals to a fine lady like you.”

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