Lula Read online

  Lula shook her head in amazement. “Who would have thought checkers would be such a big deal?” she commented. The thought made her want to laugh. But apparently it was serious business in these parts. What would Fanny think of that?

  “What’s so funny?” Sally asked. “You look like you’re about to bust a gut, honey!”

  “I’ve just never heard of such things before.”

  “What? You mean they don’t have sewing circles and quilting bees where you come from? Doesn’t anyone play checkers in New York?”

  Lula felt her cheeks grow hot. She didn’t want to come across as a snob. “No one I knew. We had … other entertainments.”

  Sally shifted in her chair with a happy smile. “Like what?”

  “Well … the opera, plays, musicales …”

  “Oh, those things,” Sally said with a roll of her eyes.

  Lula was taken aback. “Those things?”

  “Rich folks’ activities. No thanks.”

  Lula wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she decided to pour another cup of tea. Or try to. “Oh dear, we seem to be all out.”

  “Not a problem, honey – we’ll just go downstairs and fetch some more.” She put the pot on the tray, stood and picked it up. “Come along – I’ll show you my kitchen.”

  Lula felt herself pale. She didn’t know her way around a kitchen, and hoped Sally didn’t ask her to do anything. “All right,” she said weakly.

  “Something wrong?” Sally asked with concern.

  Lula shook her head.

  Sally shrugged and headed for the door, opened it while balancing the tray on one hand and motioned Lula through with a nod. “I need to check my pot roast anyway,” she said as she closed the door behind her.

  Pot roast, Lula thought. If only I could make something so grand. In her case, she’d consider boiling water an astounding accomplishment. But how to broach the subject with Sally without sounding foolish? Well, the woman did say she and Mrs. Dunnigan gave cooking lessons, so she could sign up for some. They didn’t have to know why she couldn’t cook a whit, did they? “Sally,” she said as they cut through the now-empty dining room. “If I wanted to learn how to make a few things … could you teach me?”

  “Why, of course I’d be glad to! Always happy to help.” Sally turned and used her ample backside to push open the swinging door to the kitchen. “Here we are – what do you think?”

  Lula stopped in shock. This was no kitchen – this looked like a shiny, gleaming fortress! It was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. She heard Sally say something, but missed it as she looked around. “What was that?”

  “I said, what can you cook?”

  She cringed. “Um … well … not much, really.”

  Sally set the tray on a worktable. “What do you mean, not much?”

  Lula made a face. “Nothing,” she sighed.

  Sally narrowed her eyes, then burst out laughing. “Land sakes, honey, you’re no different than the rest of them! Just about every other mail-order bride that’s set foot in this town couldn’t make a sandwich. Including your future mother-in-law Lena Adams!”

  Lula gasped. “Really?”

  “Really. She and her sisters Fina and Apple knew next to nothing when they first came to town. Them English society girls couldn’t tell a spoon from a spatula.”

  Coming from English society, of course they wouldn’t know how to cook. Lula wanted to laugh, but that would be rude, so she settled for coughing into her hand.

  “Where did you say you were from again?” Sally suddenly asked.

  Blast, she might as well get this over with too. “New York City. Upper East Side.”

  Sally clapped her hands together, completely enthralled. “How wonderful! Tell me that you’ve eaten at Delmonico’s!”

  Lula blinked to push away a pang of homesickness. That wasn’t the usual reaction she’d received here. “Yes, I have, many times. They have their own building on Broadway at 26th Street and Fifth Avenue. The gentlemen’s café faces Broadway. The public dining room where my family and I would eat looks across Fifth Avenue into Madison Square.” Lula licked her lips – she could almost taste the Manhattan clam chowder, the lobster Newberg, the baked Alaska which had to be made in Heaven itself …

  “The eggs Benedict,” Sally said with a gleam in her eye. “Tell me about the eggs Benedict. I hear it’s beyond compare.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ve never had it myself. But Father used to get it when he and my uncle would dine there for brunch …” She stopped. She didn’t want to think about her family right now, especially not after being sent off by Fanny with nothing but a hope and a prayer.

  “What’s the matter, honey? All I wanted to know is if you’d tried it.”

  Lula shook her head and did her best to keep her tears at bay. “No, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you’ve done everything right. I’m the one …”

  Sally came around the worktable and put an arm around her. “What’s troubling you, honey?”

  Lula could stand it no longer. “Oh, Sally, I’m such snob! I don’t belong here! I should never have come but I had to! There was no choice! And I hate it, hate it!”

  Sally stared at her in shock as Lula tried to compose herself, failed miserably and dropped her head against Sally’s shoulder. The woman put her arms around her in response. “There now, honey, don’t cry. Everything will turn out all right. You’re here now and you’ll be married soon to a real fine man.”

  “But I was forced to!” she wailed. There it was, but what could she do about it? Nothing, except maybe refuse to marry Baxter Adams. Did Effie or Minnie go through this? They married their prospective grooms, didn’t they? Oh, if only she could locate either of them! She sobbed anew.

  Sally patted her back and spoke soothingly. “It’ll be all right, honey, you’ll see.”

  “But I … don’t know how to do … anything!”

  Sally stopped her ministrations and looked at her. “What do you mean, anything?”

  Lula sniffled and looked at her. “Anything at all. I’ve never so much as stirred a pot.”

  “Oh dear. Well, then.” Sally patted her on the shoulders. “Then, honey, it looks like we got our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

  “Us?”

  Sally put her hands on her hips. “I’ve taught many a new bride how to cook. There’s plenty of womenfolk around here who’ll gladly teach you how to sew. Cleaning’s not that hard – it just takes a little effort. And besides, you’ll be living with Baxter’s mother and sister. How much work can there be with the three of you there?”

  Lula stopped sniffing and gulped. “Wha … what do you mean, living with them?”

  “Didn’t Baxter tell you, honey? Him and his family live a few miles out of town, near his Aunt Fina and Uncle Levi. The Adamses and Stones have full households, and happy ones too.”

  Lula reached for a chair near the worktable and sat heavily. Of course, some families did live together – it wasn’t uncommon in her own circles. But the ones she knew of lived in mansions. “What sort of home does Baxter have?”

  “Why, they have a lovely cabin, nice and snug. I think they have three whole rooms now – or is it four?”

  Lula gulped again. “Four rooms?” She didn’t dare tell her that her father’s house had six bedrooms.

  “Yes, isn’t it wonderful? You and Baxter will have your own, or at least until his brother Ephraim gets home – then you might have to share …”

  Lula gasped. “Share? With his brother?”

  “Well, now, honey, I’m sure Baxter will think of something by then.”

  Lula gripped the edge of the table. This was worse than she thought. She doubted Effie or Minnie had to share a bedroom with anyone but their husbands! “Sally?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “When is Baxter’s brother coming home?”

  “Oh, not for at least a month. But by then it’ll be summer, so you won’t mind sleeping outside now and then.”
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  Lula’s jaw dropped in shock – followed by the rest of her, as everything went dark.

  Chapter 8

  “Miss Stout? Can you hear me?”

  Lula’s eyes fluttered open as consciousness returned. “Wha … what happened?”

  The voice had a distinct British accent. “I dare say, but you fainted.” A man’s face came into focus, looking down at her.

  She realized she must still be on the floor. Bother and/or bollocks. “Snakes.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder at Sally. “Snakes? What the devil is she talking about?”

  Sally shrugged. “I have no idea. She was fine one minute, then down she went.”

  He turned back to Lula. “Can you stand? Or do you need a minute?”

  She blinked a few times. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. Allow me to introduce myself – Harrison Cooke, at your service.” He bowed his head at her and smiled.

  She stared at him as embarrassment took over – so this was one of the famous Cooke brothers. Oh dear. He was old enough to be her father, his thick brown hair (a lock of which had fallen into his face) was streaked with gray. But his dark eyes were clear and full of concern. “I’m Lula Stout.”

  “Yes, Sally made me aware. Do you need help standing?”

  “Thank you,” she said, taking his offered hand.

  Mr. Cooke pulled her to her feet. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, I hope you don’t mind if I head to the blacksmith’s and inform you future father in-law of your condition. Chase will want to let Baxter know. Too bad about his ankle, but the boy’s been through worse.”

  “Condition?” she said with alarm, ignoring the rest of his words. “I’m quite fine. It’s just that Sally and I were speaking about … um …”

  “What’s this about snakes, honey?” Sally interrupted. “I didn’t even mention snakes, but you’re white as sheet.”

  Lula picked at her skirt as her cheeks flamed. “But you did say I would be sleeping outside, and that means …” She stopped and fanned herself with her hand. “I’m a true daughter of Eve in that respect,” she added with a shudder.

  “Ah, I think I understand,” Mr. Cooke said in sympathy. “For my cousin Penelope, it’s spiders.” He turned to Sally. “Why on Earth would you tell this poor child she’d have to sleep outside? Just what were you two talking about?”

  “I was just telling her how Baxter will have to figure out sleeping arrangements once Ephraim comes home from school. You know they only got so many rooms in that house.”

  “Ahhh,” Mr. Cooke said. “Quite right.” He saw Lula’s knees wobble, quickly took her elbow and steered her into the chair. “Best you sit, my dear.”

  She did, thankful she didn’t miss the chair altogether and land on her derriere. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I must be tired.”

  “Well, of course you are, honey – you came all this way and barely had a chance to stop,” Sally observed. “I’ll take you up to your room where you can rest a spell. I can bring a tray of supper up later if you’d like.”

  Lula nodded. She hadn’t fainted in years, and thank Heaven for that. The honor of “frequent swooner” belonged to her cousin Della, and she wanted to keep it that way. “I feel like a fool. I normally don’t have such tendencies.”

  “To fainting?” Sally said with a laugh. “Don’t feel bad, honey. No one will think poorly of you, not after what it took to get here from New York, then Baxter twisting his ankle and all.”

  “New York?” Mr. Cooke said in surprise. “We’ve never had a mail-order bride from New York before.”

  Lula sighed. Here we go again …

  “That’s right, Miss Stout comes to us all the way from New York City!” Sally said proudly. “Upper East Side.”

  “Is that so?” Mr. Cooke said, intrigued. He grabbed a chair from against the kitchen wall, brought it to the worktable and sat. “We did have a bride come here from New York City a long time ago, but she wasn’t a mail-order bride like yourself. Came west on a wagon train … let me think. You were here then, Sally. When did Maddie and her mother arrive? Andel got here just before them as I recall.”

  Lula perked up at that. If the woman was still in town, she’d love to get to know her. If she could survive out here, then Lula was confident she could adjust too.

  “Oh, that was back in ’58,” Sally replied. “But of course, that was before we knew who she was – or he was, come to think. We thought he was just a blacksmith …” She started laughing and had to stop talking.

  “Who was just a blacksmith?” Lula asked. Were they talking about Baxter’s father?

  “Andel Berg,” Harrison replied. “Of course, that was before he married Maddie and became her prince consort.”

  Lula’s eyes rounded to saucers. “What did you say? He was a prince?”

  “No, he became one when he married Queen Madelaina,” Harrison said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Yes, Sally, you’re right – it had to be 1858, because they left with Duncan and Cozette in April of ’59 to take the throne. How could I have forgotten?”

  Lula’s heart sank despite the outlandishness of the tale. “Then she’s gone too. His wife, I mean.” She was still trying to wrap her head around the conversation.

  “The queen?” Mr. Cooke said. “Yes, I’m afraid so. She’s still on the throne, as a matter of fact.”

  Sally headed to the stove, fetched the kettle and brought it to the worktable. “Tea, Harrison?”

  “Please,” he said.

  Lula massaged her temples. This was too much to think about, and she wasn’t sure if they were telling a tall tale or not. She didn’t want to appear rude, but …

  “So sorry, I often digress,” Harrison said. “But yes, Maddie and her mother came to us from Dalrovia via New York. Her mother was a headmistress there.”

  “She was?” Lula said, as the name “Dalrovia” itched in the back of her head. “Which school?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I only remember it was a boarding school attended by the daughters of prominent families …”

  “What was her name?” Lula begged. Her real mother had attended just such a school – Father had told her once about it, that the time her mother spent there were some of the happiest years of her life.

  “Apalonia Van Zuyen,” Mr. Cooke said as if about to recite a poem. “Wonderful woman.”

  “Mrs. Van Zuyen!”

  Harrison’s eyebrows went up at her shriek. “You know of her?”

  “My sisters and I went to a private school for girls – Mullen’s Academy. There was a plaque on the wall in the office dedicated to a Mrs. Van Zuyen.”

  He exchanged a look with Sally. “Fascinating! It must be her.”

  “My mother went there too …” Lula hung her head.

  “She did?” Sally said. “When?”

  “As a young girl – she attended for a number of years. She finished before the war broke out and married my father a few years later, as soon as she was of age.”

  Sally sighed. “How romantic. They must have known each other for a while.”

  “Yes, they traveled in the same social circles.” Lula looked away. “But she died not long after I was born.”

  “Sorry to hear, my dear,” Mr. Cooke said as he stood. “It’s a small and wonderful world that has brought you to our fair town. I can’t wait to tell my wife that your mother knew Apalonia. She must have also have met Maddie, her daughter.”

  “Now queen of Dalrovia,” Sally added matter-of-factly.

  “That’s right! Now I remember!” Lula was smiling again. “I read about it in the newspaper … which one was it? The Sun, I think … that they’d signed a peace treaty with the German Empire, and it mentioned Queen Madelaina. She was actually here, her and her consort?”

  “Oh yes,” Sally assured her. “They even got married here – twice!”

  “The first being of the shotgun variety,” Harrison adde
d. “And therein lies a tale.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about it when I’m feeling more myself. I think perhaps I’d best retire. Do give my apologies to Mr. and Mrs. Van Cleet? They asked me to dine with them this evening.”

  “Sure, honey, I’ll let them know. Would you like me to walk you to your room?”

  “No need, Sally, but thank you,” Lula turned to Harrison. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Wonderful to meet a future member of the family. Sadie will be so excited to make it to town tomorrow when she hears of your arrival.”

  “Sadie?”

  “My wife. Come to think of it, Belle – my brother Colin’s wife – will want to meet you as well.”

  Lula fought a chill – at the thought of meeting more people or because of exhaustion, she wasn’t sure. She only knew she felt very tired and wanted to lie down. This had been quite a day and it wasn’t even suppertime yet!

  “In the meantime, I bid you adieu, my dear,” Harrison said with a slight bow. “I leave you in good hands.” He smiled at Sally, turned and left the kitchen.

  “Well, aren’t you the lucky one, honey?” Sally said. “You’re going to be related to that man in a few days.”

  Lula looked at the kitchen’s swinging door as it slowed. “Right now the only thing I want to be related to is a pillow and bed.”

  Sally laughed. “I understand. I’ll bring up a tray in a couple of hours.”

  “Thank you, Sally.” Lula headed for the door, not waiting for a reply. Once in the dining room she paused and saw its grandeur. “They’ll understand me here,” she whispered to herself. She’d found a connection between her and Baxter’s worlds, and didn’t feel so out of place any more. With a happy sigh, she headed to her room.

  *

  The next morning, Lula awoke to a soft knock on her door. She opened one eye then the other. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, honey,” Sally answered. “May I come in?”

  Bleary-eyed, Lula struggled to sit up. “Just a moment.” She got out of bed, went to the door, unlocked it and opened it wide.

  A good thing too, as Sally had a huge tray in her hands. She bustled in, a big smile on her face. “Eat up, honey. The whole clan is downstairs!”