Christmas Mail Order Bride - A Historical Mail Order Bride Novel (Western Mail Order Brides: Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

her back to the bed, where she sat down on the edge of the coverlet. She refused to look at the bed again but the weariness of her journey, followed by the anxiety of the wedding and the tension so evident around the farm and house, descended on her with an unsupportable weight. She almost indulged in lying back on the coverlet and drifting off to sleep, erasing all other considerations from her mind but instead, she bent down and unlaced her shoes. The warmth from the fire in the parlor made her feet tingle when she unbound them from her stiff boots. She kicked them into a corner and unbuttoned her traveling jacket and unclipped her cape from her shoulders. She considered unwinding her hair and shaking it out to relax herself completely but when she remembered that Anders might enter the room at any moment, she thought better of it. She didn’t want him finding her completely undone, reclining in his bed. Even if he was her husband now, she shuddered at the idea of exposing herself to him, or of doing anything to invite him to claim his marital rights. She hoped to prolong that occurrence as long as humanly possible, though she realized she must submit to it sooner or later. No doubt George and Matilda—and Anders, as well—expected her to submit without resistance this first night. Her mind whirled through possible strategies to rebuff Anders’ attentions, but the subject so dejected her that she thrust it away.
    Her weariness overcame her so much, she could scarcely keep her eyes open but still, she declined to spread herself out on the bed. She eventually compromised by seating herself in a chair and cradling her sleepy head on her folded arms on the table. She fell asleep instantly and didn’t awaken until evening, when a faint tap at the door roused her. She jerked her head up and only then did she feel the stiffness in her body from sitting on the hard chair so long. “Who’s there?” she called out.
    A female voice answered her, but she didn’t recognize it. “Supper time, ma’am.”
    “Thank you,” Penelope answered. “I’ll be right down.”
    “Your trunk’s downstairs, ma’am,” the disembodied female informed her. “The boys are waiting for you to come down before they bring it up.”
    “Thank you very much,” she replied. “Please tell them to bring it up now, because I’m coming down.”
    “Will do, ma’am,” the voice rejoined, and a soft footstep tripped away down the corridor.
    Penelope cast another discriminating glance around the room. Well, she thought to herself. I’ll just have to show him what it means to have a wife around the place. Not even a mirror on the wall to check her hair. She trusted her hand to smooth her hair and dress, and she pulled her boots onto her aching feet, reluctantly lacing them up again. At least she could now respectably remove the last traces of Matilda’s accoutrements, leaving the veil, the broach, and the silk rosebuds on the windowsill with the empty tumblers. She could return them to her mother-in-law with feigned gratitude and never see them again. Satisfied with her appearance, she quickened her step onto the landing and sailed down the stairs to the parlor, where the three members of the West family awaited her. When she entered the parlor, they moved as one company into the adjacent dining room. George and Matilda took chairs at the head and foot of the table, and Anders took the seat nearest to the fire, leaving one chair vacant for Penelope.
    The meal passed uneventfully, with almost no conversation between the new family. The only remarkable occurrence that stuck in Penelope’s memory happened when the door opened and a stout woman with coal-black hair and sparkling eyes glittering out of her moon face entered to serve the soup. Matilda addressed her as ‘Janet’ when she gave the woman directions. Janet didn’t speak to anyone but when she noticed Penelope observing, she returned her sharp look and even nodded kindly at her.