Authors: Sarah Thorn
The two of them were having a real conversation, and Cora smiled inwardly at that. Perhaps the end of a rain really did breathe in new life.
“One of our best exports,” he said. “This town grew up around, well, the river, of course, but also just as much the prize cherry orchard that my grandfather started.”
He pushed his feet into heavy work boots.
Cora smirked. “For a high society man, you’re really keen on being a farm boy.”
Joshua Dansby laughed, and Cora’s heart beat at the dimple that flashed in his cheek, his smile spreading across his face.
“Out here, it’s not so cut and dry as the East, I’m sure. Everyone’s got a little bit of farm boy in ‘em here. You have to be or you won’t make it.”
Joshua coughed into his sleeve.
“Are you alright?” Cora stood up.
He waved his hand at her. “I’m fine. Just a morning cough, is all.”
“You should be careful,” she said. “It’s real easy to catch a bad cold after a rain. You should take it easy, Joshua.”
Joshua stood up and made his way to the door, swinging his hat onto his head.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ve got to stake out for harvesting soon, so I don’t have much time to hang around. If you need me, I’ll be out in the trees.”
His piercing blue eyes glinted her way. “And, Cora?”
“Yes?”
He tipped his hat toward her. “Thank you for using my name.”
Cora pursed her lips and looked away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having warmed up to him.
In the least
, she thought,
he’s not repulsive.
And her heart beat as she thought of his smile, and those deep, blue eyes…
There wasn’t much to do around a great big house all alone. Cora amused herself by perusing the small library that Joshua built up in his study, of which there were many books she had never even heard of. It was enough to keep her occupied for a good part of the morning. She sat in a large armchair, under the portrait of a stout, old man with the same mischievous, cold stare that Joshua Dansby held. No doubt an old relative of years past.
She found herself entirely consumed by a fascinating article in a magazine, a fictitious story about a man and a stranger’s journey racing to the highest of heights in a magnificent air balloon.
It all was so curious and fascinating to Cora, she had almost forgotten the time.
As noon approached, Joshua still hadn’t been back to the house and, though she told herself she didn’t
really
care about him, Cora did have a sinking feeling in her gut.
She was just stepping outside, and onto the great porch, when a covered buggy came riding down the driveway. It slowed to a halt in front of her, and a man in a suit, with a walking stick and hat was escorted out by the tall, lean, and expressionless coach driver.
“The Mrs. Dansby, I presume?” The man who stepped out was plump, with a clean shaven face and wrinkled forehead. It seemed an unusually ordinate sight on the humble orchard estate of Joshua Dansby.
Cora did not reply, and the man stayed below the steps, and tipped his hat.
“Perhaps Joshua Dansby hasn’t spoken of me? I’m Walter Howell. His father was my cousin, and dear Joshua is a beloved nephew of mine.”
“I may have heard of you.”
His eyes squinted, as if not being able to peer under the bright sunlight. He looked Cora up and down, and she felt uncomfortable.
“If you’re looking for Joshua,” she said. “He’s not here right now. I can tell him you stopped by.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Well, we are all family now,” his arms swept open to illustrate. “Do tell Joshua that I’m looking forward to the hearing in a few weeks. Oh, and perhaps I should also mention that there have been a few new discoveries…” he toyed at his walking stick, and raised an eyebrow. “Regarding the will of his grandfather’s estate…”
“You can let him know yourself,” Cora’s brow furrowed, and she felt uneasy. “He shouldn’t be long.”
She dealt with many a rat in her day, literal and not, on the streets of New York City, and he gave her the same feeling: a complete and utter distaste.
“It does involve you too, mind you,” he smiled slyly, “So you should benefit from the news as well. It turns out, in the fine print, that Joshua Dansby mustn’t only be married, but he must be married for at least five years before the estate is turned over from the board to him. In such time as he is not in a consensual and lawful union, the estate will be turned over to the next closest heir. Which is indeed myself, madam.” Walter brought his hands to straighten as his suit collar.
“But that shouldn’t be a problem…” he smirked. “Especially as in love as you two obviously are. Why, practically beaming. There’s no possibility for it to be a sham or contractual obligation….bribery that would invalidate...oh, me. I seem to be getting carried away now. Let young Joshy know I stopped by.”
Cora’s eyes grew wide, and her fists balled at her side.
He knows
, she said.
Walter got into his carriage and strode away, leaving an even deeper pit in Cora’s stomach.
Chapter 6
“Joshua!” She called into the orchard, lifting her dress from draping along the muddy and wet grass. The shade of the trees was cool and moist, but she had begun to grow increasingly worried. Where was Joshua? Meeting his despicable uncle was no help to the growing anxiety she felt pierce her within. She hadn’t known Joshua long...but she knew him long enough to see how much he cared for this land. From the way he treated his horse, to how passionately he reasoned to save his inheritance…
Whatever Walter Howell wanted, could only amount to no good.
“Joshua!”
Nothing.
She continued to trace along, when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow in the distance, lying among the grass in the shade of a tree.
Her heart began to beat fast.
“Joshua!”
“Come on, stay with me,” Cora placed the cool wet cloth on Joshua’s forehead. Her dress was ripped and muddied, her sleeves scrunched up, her braid letting out unkempt wisps of brown hair.
Joshua laid on the couch in the library and study, his face red and body covered in sweat.
Cora was completely exhausted from having found him passed out in the orchard shade. She knew there was something wrong that morning, and she chided herself for not following her instinct sooner. It was a struggle getting Joshua back to the house, but thankfully he hadn’t been too far off. He must have been on his way in for lunch when the fit began. She didn’t bother trying to get to the second floor bedrooms, and opted for the flat couch-chair in the study.
Being a butcher’s assistant came in handy
, Cora laughed to herself, attempting to lighten her own dark thoughts.
“You’re burning up,” Cora felt at his forehead, as he writhed, breathing heavily.
Cora had already removed his hat and shoes, and had been trying to cool him down with water.
She eyed at his chest, and for a moment, grew red.
“No,” she corrected herself. “I’m sorry,” she reached for his shirt. “I have to do this.”
Cora managed to sit Joshua up enough to pull the shirt off, undoing his suspenders. She blushed when her hands felt the ripples of his bare body, and she quickly laid him back down, bringing a cool rag to continue to pat him down.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmured. He seemed to still be unconscious as she continued to tend to him.
For the next several hours, Cora continued to monitor him, washing him and doing what she could to whet down the fever.
He finally became conscious toward the late afternoon, waking up in a daze, swinging his feet over the chair, but not to get up before Cora came in and scolded him.
“You’re not fine,” she said, grabbing his arms and guiding him back down. He was still in a daze and consented.
“Just rest,” she said.
By evening, he was conscious, and while still afflicted, could manage a bit on his own. She offered him some chicken soup for dinner and he sat up groggily to spoon the soup from the bowl toward his lips.
“You can cook?” he muttered.
“Don’t act so surprised,” she teased. “I may not be very lady-like, but I can cook like a lady.”
“Where did you get the chicken?” he asked.
Cora pursed her lips.
“About that...well, I hope you don’t mind being down one less chicken…”
Joshua laughed, but soon began a coughing fit, and so Cora hushed him back to rest and cleaned up after them.
“You know, I was actually nervous.”
Joshua spoke low and softly, the fire flickering in the distance, glittering in his blue eyes. Cora stretched in her spot from leaning into the large armchair, and was taken aback by his tone.
“Nervous?” she asked.
“When I was waiting the other morning...I was actually nervous. I know I said that it was all purely business, and that I was doing it for the inheritance--” he pursed his lips. “But that morning, I was actually nervous. I was so scared that I was going to be a disappointment. I was afraid that this woman--whoever it was--was going to absolutely hate me.”
Cora leaned her cheek into the palm of her hand and laughed.
“I don’t hate you,” she smiled. “Not
absolutely
.”
Joshua chuckled.
“My grandfather always thought I spent too much time being serious. He always said I didn’t know the important things in life. I guess...this was his way to make sure I didn’t stay that way. From the grave.”
The two of them sat on in silence.
Cora cleared her throat.
“I never knew any of my family,” she said. “You’re really blessed to have had that. The idea of having my own family...of one day being able to call another person mine. That was my only dream growing up.”
Joshua could hear the longing in her voice. “What happened?”
“I grew up,” Cora sighed. “I learned that fairytales are meant for books. And families are meant for other lucky girls.”
Joshua watched as Cora leaned her face toward the window, the moonlight and fire, both swirling in her big brown eyes, mixing together in a wonderful medley.
Perhaps it’s just the fever
, he thought, but in that moment, the two seemed to have finally been knit, and as he gazed at her, her tousled dress, her sad eyes, and the untamed hairs that strayed from her braid, she looked the most beautiful thing he had seen in a lifetime.
The days after seemed to move like the clouds across the midwest: quick and dissipating into the blue sky. Adjusting to each other’s presence was a chore for both Joshua and Cora, as headstrong as both were. Teaching Cora to be a lady was not as difficult as Joshua had intended.
“I read a lot of books,” she reasoned. “I can put on any face you like.”
So in a little over a month’s time, when Joshua finally introduced Cora to his family at a night gathering at the Stanton, everyone seemed utterly delighted to have met her.
“She’s marvelous,” his mother cooed across the table, the glasses sparkling underneath the light. “Why ever had we not been able to meet her until now?”
The other guests around the table laughed.
Joshua shifted in his seat, and Cora smiled, though sending a darting glance with her eyes. “We’re very private people,” he answered. “We thought it was best to keep our courtship...out of the public view.”
“New York City, eh?” A voice bellowed across the table toward Cora, an older male relative of Joshua’s. “What a grand city!”
“Yes’sir,” Cora smiled. “The grandest.”
The dinner continued joyously, with close family and friends present. Joshua and Cora appeared, to everyone, a wonderful match.
“Ahem,” a glass tinkered in the room, and it hushed as Walter Howell stood up.
“To my dear nephew,” he raised a glass, in toast.
Cora leaned toward Joshua. “And why did he have to be hear?”
Joshua sighed under his breath.
“He’s family, Cora. Can’t change that,” he said. “Not even if I wanted to.”
Walter continued in his accolade.
“Congratulations on the start of a new chapter in life. With all of this merriment, we still have yet to hear the story of how the two of you came to know on another…”
Joshua and Cora exchanged a wary glance.
“Oh, it’s not really exciting,” Joshua cleared his throat.
“But Joshy, we’re all dying to know,” Walter’s eyes glinted, the crows feet around them crinkling with glee. “Or perhaps your lovely bride can share with us.”
Joshua’s mother clapped her hands together happily.
“Please, Cora, you must tell. I bet it’s a fabulous story…”
“Like Joshua said,” Cora smiled, her heart beating. Where was Walter going with this? “It’s not terribly interesting…”
Walter’s laugh bellowed. “Dear Cora, please enlighten us. How could it not be interesting. Tell me just this one thing--what went through your mind when you first saw an ad in the local paper for a mail-order bride?”