The Mercantile Owner's Bride Read online

  Edward turned toward her. He was beaming and looked extremely happy. He leaned in to her, his face only a breath away from hers.

  Her heart began to beat rapidly at the prospect.

  His eyes stared into hers. They were so close it almost made her giddy.

  She closed her eyes and stepped back slightly, losing her balance as she did so.

  His arms were around her before she could fall.

  He was gentle and strong at the same time. She stared up into his face. His hair had fallen across his eyes, and she brushed it away.

  “Ahem.” The preacher cleared his throat in order to get their attention.

  Edward straightened up, pulling her with him.

  Phoebe felt herself blush. She would have melted into the ground if she could.

  “Thank you, Preacher,” Edward said quietly, then hooked her arm through his and led her back to the Mercantile. To his home.

  Their home. The place she was meant to spend the rest of her life.

  * * *

  “And this is the storeroom. When new items arrive each month, items that will fit, go out on the shelves. Those that don’t, they go in here.”

  Phoebe nodded and bit her bottom lip. There was so much to remember, and she worried it would all be quickly forgotten.

  “I don’t expect you to remember all this,” he said softly. He brushed a finger gently across her cheek, then swiftly pulled it away.

  He put a hand to her back and led her to the residence. “I think that’s enough for today. Go and put your things away.” She stared at him blankly.

  “Oh,” he said. “You don’t know where. I’ll come too.”

  She stared at the floor. “Apart from this lovely dress you gave me, I only have a one dress, and a few undergarments. I won’t need much space.”

  He frowned. She wasn’t sure if he was shocked or angry. “In that case, come with me.”

  Now it was her turn to frown.

  He led her back to the rack her wedding dress came from. “Take your pick – whatever you need.” He was beaming. Was he happy to provide for his bride?

  She shook her head. He shouldn’t have to supply all her clothing.

  “It will be my pleasure to ensure my bride is beautifully clothed,” he said softly. There was no one in the store except the two of them as the “closed” sign was still on the door. She wondered if perhaps he was aware of her deep embarrassment.

  She really had no choice. She only had the one tardy dress she arrived in, plus her wedding gown. She would keep that to become her Sunday best.

  “Really Mr Horvard,” she said equally quietly. “I can’t accept your offer. It’s too much.”

  He frowned. “Edward, please. We are husband and wife, you can’t go around calling me Mr Horvard.” He grinned and she felt relieved. He seemed a kindly man.

  He pulled several beautiful dresses off the rack and held them in front of her. “These will do nicely, but if you don’t like them, feel free to choose different ones.”

  She shook her head again. “No, they’re beautiful. Thank you, Mr… er, Edward.”

  He grinned and guided her toward the undergarments. “Take whatever you need.” He picked up a chemise and some drawers and fiddled with them. “I’ll leave you to choose whatever you need of these. And don’t forget nightgowns.”

  He left her alone and went behind the counter, to finish off some paperwork, he’d told her.

  “I’ll show you where to place your clothes, and then I must reopen the store,” he said, pointing to the door. “I can see customers wanting to come in.”

  Despite his offer, she only took one dress, and one change of undergarments, as well as a nightgown. She’d managed on little before, and she could do it again – she wouldn’t be a burden.

  Holding tight to her new clothes, the first new garments she could ever recall having, she turned away. “You go and attend your customers. I’ll be fine,” she said, then scampered into the private residence, which was off the store.

  Despite having been in there earlier for her bath, it was all new to Phoebe. She’d been so nervous before, she hadn’t really taken much in.

  There appeared to be three bedrooms, but two of them were taken up with storage. The master bedroom was the only room with an actual bed. She shuddered.

  She’d hoped to spend her wedding night alone, but it wasn’t to be.

  The bathroom was huge. She knew that from her earlier encounter.

  The clawfoot tub was enormous, and she’d enjoyed sliding right down into it. It had been a welcome relief after the vulgar amenities available at the Burlesque.

  A bowl of cold soapy water, used by many, was not her idea of cleanliness.

  She was certain Mrs Mac and Mr Grayson did not endure the same facilities.

  If she didn’t understand before, she did now – Edward Horvard was quite well off. One could almost say rich. His bathroom was bigger than the two bedrooms currently used for additional storage. And it had running water.

  But above all, the indoor privy was the thing that really caught her attention. It seemed she would live a life of luxury if she played her cards right.

  Last of all she checked the room at the back of the flat. She found a tiny kitchen there.

  Tiny in her terms at least. At the orphanage the kitchen was quite large. It was similar at the Burlesque. Cook had many mouths to feed so it was understandable.

  Phoebe had never cooked a meal in her life and wasn’t sure where to start. She filled the kettle with water, so at least Edward could have coffee when he was ready. She would come back later to prepare his luncheon but at this stage, had no idea of what she would make.

  Close to the kitchen was a small reception room. She eyed off the cozy-looking couch.

  Finally, she returned to the master bedroom where she’d deposited her newly acquired clothing and changed into her other new dress, rather than risk ruining her Sunday best. It was a luxury she’d never had before.

  She pulled her long hair into an acceptable style and peered at herself in the full-length mirror.

  She hoped she was acceptable as the Mercantile owner’s wife. She was sure he would tell her if she wasn’t.

  “Phoebe, my dear.” She heard him call from the store via the main door to the residence. “Do you have a moment to come here?”

  She was rather taken back to find a group of women staring as she entered the Mercantile.

  Edward pulled her to his side. “May I introduce my beautiful wife, Phoebe?”

  Beaming faces looked her over.

  Women stepped forward and took her hand. “Welcome, my dear,” came from many directions.

  “Phoebe, I know it’s too much to remember, but this is Mrs Jensen, Mrs Green, Mrs Jackson, and Mrs Grogan. They are all very happy to meet you, I’m sure.”

  She felt overwhelmed and clung to her husband. He slid his arm around her as though he understood.

  “Now ladies, can I help anyone?”

  Mrs Jensen stepped forward. Or was it Mrs Jackson? She’d eventually work them all out.

  Phoebe shadowed her husband, watching and learning. One day she hoped to be an enormous help to him. To not only to keep house, but to also relieve him of some of his duties in the store.

  He turned to her and nodded as though he appreciated her presence.

  He pulled her closer. Phoebe was still getting used to being a married woman and wondered if they would endure.

  * * *

  Edward closed the store for luncheon.

  It felt as though the store had been closed most of the day, but he had to eat.

  He entered the residence excitedly, wondering what Phoebe had prepared. He found her exactly where he’d expected – in the well-equipped kitchen.

  Nothing but the best.

  He’d built this place from scratch, with the intention of one day having a wife and children. He’d come from money, and spared no expense with building this establishment, and preparing for his futu
re.

  His father had taught him that. And now it seems, it had paid off.

  She had her back to him as he entered the kitchen. She turned and placed a mug of coffee on the table. “Sit down,” she said. “Your luncheon is almost ready.”

  She worried her bottom lip before turning back away from him. It seemed to be a habit when she was nervous.

  “I, I didn’t know what to make,” she said apologetically as she turned to face him again. “There isn’t much food to work with. And I’m not much of a cook,” she added quickly.

  He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. She was so sweet, and so innocent.

  She pouted. “It’s not funny,” she said, still pouting and looking rather sad.

  “My dear girl,” he said, trying to refrain from a full belly laugh. “You have an entire store to utilize. Anything you need, just take it.”

  “Oh.” She looked surprised at his revelation. As though it hadn’t occurred to her, and he was certain at that moment, she’d never been in a kitchen, or a store, before in her life.

  She placed a plate in front of him. It contained thick sliced bread and a chunk of cheese. “I’m sorry,” she said, staring at him. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

  He watched as tears welled in her eyes and jumped up from the table.

  His arms were around her before he realized what he was even doing. “Don’t cry,” he said, lifting her chin toward him. He wiped at a stray tear that slid down her face. “You’re too pretty to cry.” She leaned into him, and he heard her sniff.

  It felt nice to hold her like this. To comfort her. He really had no idea what he’d been missing all these years. His life had revolved around working in the store, replenishing stocks, and filling the shelves.

  At night he was exhausted, and was simply putting something together that would fill his belly. On the odd occasion, he would be invited to dine with one of the town’s families.

  He suddenly had a revelation. “I have some cookbooks in the store,” he said. “Later, we’ll look them over and find one that may help.”

  She wiped at her eyes and nodded. “Sounds like a good idea,” she said softly.

  He tightened his hold on her until she pulled out of his arms. Edward took the hint and sat down again. The food was ordinary, but better than he might have prepared for himself.

  The next few weeks could be interesting – with a new bride who had no idea how to be a wife.

  * * *

  Phoebe cleaned the kitchen until it was spotless, then went to find the cookbooks Edward had mentioned.

  The first one she picked up was “High Class Cookery Made Easy.” She stared at it, then replaced it on the shelf. She was going to struggle to make easy recipes, let alone high class.

  “This one is meant to be good. Nearly all the ladies in town have bought it.” He handed her a cookbook that wasn’t too thick, but not too thin.

  Cookery for the Modern Woman

  She read the table of contents. It had a good variety. Lastly, she flicked through the book and read some of the recipes. They seemed fairly straightforward.

  “I think that will do nicely,” she said, a smile forming on her face. She was starting to relax. Edward was not demanding like she expected. In fact, was the total opposite.

  She acknowledged she was totally clueless, but he was being quite the gentleman about it.

  “I’ll go and work something out for supper, shall I?” she asked. She didn’t want to do anything that might upset him.

  “Perfectly fine. Any supplies you need, come here and get it, or let me know and I’ll bring it to you.” She nodded and left.

  “Phoebe,” he called after her. “I want you to treat this store like your own personal pantry.”

  “Ooh, lucky lady,” she heard one of the customers say. And she realized that customer was right. One day she might actually appreciate it.

  Back in the kitchen, she rummaged through the drawers and finally found paper and a pencil. She would choose some recipes and check what ingredients she needed.

  Once chosen, she searched the kitchen pantry. It was near empty. She found a packet of flour, but it was full of little creatures. Weevils? Disgusting.

  Luckily, she had her own personal pantry downstairs. She smiled at the thought. This could be fun.

  Tonight’s meal would not be extravagant. She was convinced she’d never manage extravagant. Simple was definitely the way to go. Simple but hearty. That cookbook was all about hearty and uncomplicated.

  Phoebe was positive it was going to be her new best friend.

  When she snuck into the store a short time later, she was hoping not to distract her husband from his work. Husband. Would she ever get used to that?

  He’d just finished serving a customer and opening the door for her, when he spotted her. “To what do I owe this pleasure,” he asked, beaming at her.

  “I’m in need of an apron, if you have one,” she said quietly, ensuring the other customers didn’t hear. “Please,” she added quickly.

  He grinned. “Follow me.” He pointed to a corner which stored a collection of crisp white aprons. Some were quite plain, and others had a small amount of embroidery. There were also a few in pastel colors.

  She reached for a plain one, but he insisted on a fancier one. She was learning it was better not to argue with him over his choices. As she turned to go back inside, he slapped her playfully on the behind.

  She turned to him annoyed, and he was grinning. She was sure she had an expression of shock on her face, but he just laughed.

  Now that she was his wife, he was entitled to such liberties, but they’d been married less than a day. She didn’t expect that sort of behavior.

  She scuttled away before he could do anything more outlandish.

  Chapter Five

  The cookbook proved helpful.

  Once her menu was finalized, Phoebe returned to the Mercantile once again. This time with a list of items she needed to prepare supper.

  She’d decided on biscuits and a hearty vegetable soup. Having all the ingredients readily available was a nice bonus she hadn’t thought about.

  The store was quite busy when she returned.

  Edward stood behind the counter looking very important. And he was. Without the Mercantile, the town’s women would have to travel quite a distance for their supplies. At least that’s what Edward had told her.

  “Flour, eggs, milk.” She checked her list again. “Butter.” She moved to the other side of the store and carefully chose the vegetables she needed. She decided not to include meat this time, since she didn’t know her way around the town as yet.

  He whispered in her ear. “What’s for supper?”

  She put a hand to her chest. “Oh my goodness, Edward. You startled me.”

  He stood behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “What’s for supper,” he asked more softly.

  She turned around in his arms. “It’s a surprise,” she said cheekily. “You’ll find out at supper time.”

  Basket in hand, she retreated to their private kitchen, but not before he sneaked a look at her purchases. A frown crossed his face. Good. He couldn’t work out what she was cooking.

  She turned back to see him rubbing his hands together. This was going to be fun.

  Or it might be a disaster. She’d soon find out.

  The soup was bubbling on the stove, and she was careful not to let it burn. The cookbook warned about that.

  She took a spoon and tasted it. The soup was cooked, but she wasn’t sure if it was good enough for her new husband. It tasted fine to her, but what sort of standards did Edward have?

  She was used to the very bland and ordinary food dished out at the Burlesque by a cook who admitted she’d never had any training.

  Phoebe sighed.

  This was just the beginning of a long road of learning. Her biggest hope was she didn’t upset Edward with her greenhorn efforts.

  She stirred the soup again, then pulled th
e biscuits out of the oven. They looked perfect on the outside, but what about the inside?

  The recipe said to rub butter over the top of the biscuits once out of the oven, so she did precisely that. She wasn’t sure what it did to them, but she followed the directions to the letter.

  A short time later, the table was set and ready for supper.

  The kettle was almost boiling, and she had bowls ready to dish out the soup. Lastly, she went to the bathroom to freshen up, and make herself presentable.

  The last thing she wanted was for Edward to think badly of her. After all, it was their first supper together and she wanted to meet his approval.

  At last she heard him bid farewell to the last customer and lock the door. Then his footsteps could be heard as he entered their private domain.

  It had been a long day, but she was grateful he’d taken her in. What she would have done otherwise, she had no idea.

  Her life wouldn’t be worth living if she’d been forced to go to the Gentlemen’s Club and become a soiled dove.

  Just the thought of it made her feel ill. And a little faint. She quickly sat down to recover.

  “Are you alright, Phoebe?”

  She hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen. “I, I’m fine, thank you.” She wasn’t but had no intention of telling him so.

  She stood, holding the back of a chair for support. “Please sit down. Supper is ready.” She turned to the stove to dish up the soup. “It’s not much, but it should be filling.”

  She placed a bowl in front of him. “Like I said earlier, I’m not a cook. I’ve never had to cook before, but I’m willing to learn.” She smiled briefly then turned away from him to retrieve her own food.

  He leaned over the soup. “It smells delicious.” He took a large mouthful. “And it is delicious! This is the best meal I’ve had for a very long time,” he said happily as he ate.

  He reached across the table for a biscuit at almost the same time she did. Their hands met briefly, and she pulled hers quickly back.

  He grinned at her. “I don’t bite,” he said, snatching up a biscuit and breaking it apart. “You’ve been busy,” he said, shoving a piece of biscuit into his mouth.