The Matchmaker of Fairfield: (Clean Historical Western Romance) Page 8

  “I doubt that very much,” Elijah said.

  He took her arm in his as he led her towards her seat without so much as an acknowledgment of Bridget.

  Normally, Bridget would have been affronted by this oversight but, when she looked at the glow on both Ivy and Elijah’s face, she knew it was not intentional. Indeed, she didn’t think Elijah would have noticed if Ivy had been accompanied by a two-ton elephant.

  “May I escort you to your seat, miss Riley.”

  Bridget jumped at the sullen-sounding voice next to her and turned to see Mark, still unsmiling, standing beside her and gallantly offering his arm.

  “Thank you, Mr. Bellows,” she said. “I was afraid I’d been forgotten.”

  Mark Bellows did not answer but lead Bridget silently to her seat beside Ivy before moving to take the chair next to his brother.

  “I’m sorry we’re a bit late,” Bridget said. “I’m afraid I fussed a little more than I had to.”

  “A lady is never late,” Elijah said wisely. “They always arrive on time. If we men were ready before you, we were early.”

  “I must say I like that philosophy,” Ivy said looking over at Elijah with a smile.

  “It was one of our father’s favorite sayings,” he said with a smile at Ivy. “And, I must say, it’s served me well so far.”

  “I’m glad of that,” Ivy said.

  Bridget was, once again cognizant of being left out of the conversation almost entirely. And, once again, looking between Ivy and Elijah, it was clear that this slight was not intentional.

  The rest of the dinner proceeded in much the same vein. Elijah entertained Ivy with stories about his childhood, the men he worked with in the mill, even occasionally, stories about his father.

  Bridget made some vain attempts to join in the proceedings but, more often than not, was shut out by Ivy and Elijah unintentionally. She found this did not bother her one bit. In fact, she was enjoying watching the couple.

  A little swell of victory flooded inside her chest every time she heard Ivy laugh at one of Elijah’s stories. She had never heard Ivy laugh as much as she had this evening. And, if nothing else, that was a small victory in and of itself.

  “I’m glad to see your wounds are healing,” Ivy remarked about halfway through dinner.

  “Well,” Elijah said patting his left arm, “O’Connell always had poor aim. I doubt I was in any real danger.”

  “All the same,” Ivy said. “I’m glad I arrived when I did.”

  “So am I,” he said quietly.

  It was all Bridget could do not to sigh as the two looked for a long moment into each other's eyes. The sigh turned to one of frustration when the door to the dining room opened and the butler stepped inside.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Elijah,” the Butler said. “But, you have a visitor.”

  Elijah looked away from Ivy reluctantly.

  “Tell them to come back tomorrow, Robson,” Elijah said.

  “I tried sir,” The butler answered, sounding rather agitated himself. “But, she is rather insistent.”

  “She?” Elijah asked his brow furrowing.

  “It might be Mrs. Baird,” Mark said. Bridget, again, nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. It was the first he had spoken all evening. “We’ve been waiting to hear about the possible sale of her old estate.”

  Elijah turned from the butler to his brother with a helpless look.

  “Can’t you go and speak to her?” Elijah asked Mark. Mark heaved an irritated sigh.

  “No, I can’t,” he said. “She asked to see you. She would take it as a slight if anyone else speaks to her.”

  Elijah’s eyes glanced between Ivy and Marc quickly before he heaved an irritated sigh of his own. Setting his napkin down on the table, he stood.

  “Excuse me,” he said to the table at large, though his eyes remained fixed on Ivy. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “Of course,” Ivy said offering him a small, understanding smile.

  With that, the butler ushered Elijah out of the room.

  A heavy silence suddenly fell over the table. Between Ivy’s shy manner and Mark’s obvious disapproval of this entire evening, Bridget felt more than a bit uncomfortable. And, when she was uncomfortable, there was only one thing she knew to do. Talk.

  “So, Ivy,” she said teasingly to her friend. “When should we schedule the wedding.”

  Ivy looked down at her plate, her cheeks turning red. All the same, she could not help the smile that spread across her face.

  “Don’t you think that’s putting the cart before the horse?” Ivy asked.

  “You are dining in his home,” Bridget remarked. “Marriages have been made with far less interaction.”

  “Ill-conceived marriages, you mean,” Mark muttered from across the table. Bridget turned to him sharply.

  “And, what do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “Only that most marriages which begin when the couple is too young and knows each other too little are usually created on a romantic whim,” he said. “Those are rarely successful.”

  Bridget smiled coolly across the table at him.

  “Sometimes love comes quickly, Mr. Bellows,” she said. “When it happens to you, I doubt you will be so reasonable about it.”

  “And that is another problem,” Mark said. “All this talk of love muddles the entire topic. I’ve always seen marriage as a partnership for the raising of children, nothing more.”

  Bridget looked at Mark Bellows thoughtfully and wondered, not for the first time, how two men of such differing dispositions could come from the same family.

  “Then, I suppose,” Bridget said. “You reject the idea that such a passion could come upon you.”

  “I do,” Mark said. “And, at any rate, I don’t plan to marry for any reason anytime soon. Certainly not until the mill is running more comfortably.”

  “I see,” Bridget said.

  She had to admit, men who thought as Mark Bellows did had always held a sort of fascination for her. She could not help but wonder what would happen if they were faced with the very emotion they desperately feared. What would happen if Mark Bellows met a woman he could not help but love?

  Bridget looked to Ivy, meaning to encourage her to join the conversation. But, when she turned to her friend, she saw her eyes focused on the dining room door, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap.

  “I wonder what could be keeping Elijah,” she said. She was trying and failing to keep her voice neutral even as the rosy hue left her face. Bridget found that she could not blame her, after all, Elijah had been gone far longer than any of them had expected.

  “I’m not sure what could be keeping him,” Mark said. Bridget was surprised to find that even Mark’s face was lined with worry.

  “Perhaps we should go up to the parlor,” Bridget suggested. “I believe I’ve finished at any rate.”

  There was a general agreement on this idea and all three of them made their way out of the dining room, Ivy leading the way.

  When they reached the parlor door, Bridget nearly collided with her friend who had stopped suddenly in her tracks still as a statue.

  “Ivy, what…?”

  When Bridget careened around her friend and into the parlor, she saw very clearly what had caused Ivy to stop.

  There, standing in the entrance of the parlor, stood Elijah with Emily Bunting, her lips placed firmly on his.

  Bridget looked up at Ivy whose face turned red. With a shake of her head, she tore out of the room and down the steps towards the front door. Bridget made to follow her but as soon as she turned, a gasp and shoving sound from the parlor stopped her.

  “Emily, what were you thinking?” Elijah exclaimed. When Bridget turned back the room, he appeared to have pushed Emily Bunting off of him and was now wiping his lips with the back of his hand as though trying to erase Emily’s kiss.

  “I told you, it’s over between us,” he said.

  “I knew you couldn’t have mea
nt that,” Emily said desperately. She moved over to him and attempted to touch his arm, he jerked it away from her and moved to the far door.

  “Robson!” he called. In a moment, the old butler was standing before him.

  “Yes sir,” he said.

  “Please escort Miss Bunting out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Before Emily could protest, Robson gently grabbed hold of her arm and guided her through the doorway where Mark and Bridget still stood. When Elijah turned to watch Miss Bunting’s departure, his eyes landed on Bridget and Mark. He rushed over to them.

  “Is... Ivy still downstairs?” he asked hopefully. His eyes were wide and his face flushed.

  “We came looking for you,” she answered. “Ivy was worried something might have happened.”

  “Did...did she see?” Bridget suspected he knew the answer to his question before he had even asked it. She knew a look and a pregnant silence was all that was needed to confirm his suspicions.

  She realized that it had when Elijah seemed to deflate before her. His shoulders slumped and he looked down at his feet.

  “I suspect she’s waiting for me outside,” Bridget said.

  Elijah looked up at this, a new, hopeful light had entered his eyes.

  “Then there’s still time,” he said. “I can go after her. I can explain-”

  “I do not think she would hear an explanation from you now,” Bridget said firmly.

  “But, I need to tell her...I can’t let her think that-”

  “What you need to do,” Bridget said cutting him off once again. “Is to consider what you truly want from Ivy. And whether or not she is worth letting go of your...other entanglements.”

  And, with that last piece of advice, Bridget made her way down the stair to the front door. As she did, she half expected to hear the sound of Elijah’s feet rushing after her. The sound never came.

  Chapter Eight - Ivy

  “Ivy, you didn’t stay long enough,” Bridget said once again. “You didn’t see what happened after-”

  “I saw plenty,” Ivy said as she cleared another glass from Mrs. Mackenzie’s newly vacant table. She was more than half annoyed that Bridget had brought up the disastrous dinner of two nights before yet again. Especially when she had to know how the memory of that night still twisted painfully in Ivy’s heart.

  “Emily Bunting had not been invited,” Bridget said. “She forced herself onto Elijah and he pushed her away.”

  Ivy did not answer but turned and grabbed a dirty glass from the bar and began to wipe it forcefully. Try as she might, she had not been able to purge Elijah from her thoughts. And, Bridget’s constant harping on the subject was certainly not helping.

  The truth was Ivy very much doubted that Elijah’s dismissal of Emily Bunting had been genuine. And, even if it was, there was no guarantee that he would not dismiss Ivy in the same manner once he was through with her. Once a prettier, fresher face came along.

  No matter what he said to the contrary, she knew him. She knew what wealthy, charming, free-spirited men did with women like Ivy. And, she could not believe that she was foolish enough to imagine he’d changed.

  “Ivy, please just-”

  “The lunch crowd will be here any moment,” Ivy said firmly to Bridget. “You had best get your tables ready.”

  Though she did not dare turn around, Ivy saw Bridget’s reflection in the glass on the bar’s wall.

  She watched as Bridget opened her mouth twice as though to put in another defense for Elijah. Finally, recognizing that Ivy was in no mood to hear assurances or platitudes, Bridget nodded and moved to clean her tables.

  A tense silence which had never fallen between the girls before was present now as they readied the tavern for lunch. By the time the first patrons entered, Ivy had wiped down all the glasses at the bar and was now pressing a damp rag fast to the wood finish, scrubbing at it with all her might, trying to ignore the fact that it was Wednesday. The day that Elijah Bellows always came in with his brother.

  That was why she didn’t dare look up at the front door, even as patrons wandered in.

  It was not until she saw Bridget moving towards her out of the corner of her eye that she looked up to see the Bellows brothers entering through the front door. Bridget walked up to the bar in feigned distress.

  “Ivy, would you-”

  “Let me guess,” Ivy deadpanned looking knowingly to Bridget. “You have another headache.”

  Bridget heaved a sigh and dropped the act instantly.

  “You know you have to talk to him,” Bridget said. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

  Ivy looked hard at her friend then glanced up at Elijah who was looking directly at her from his table near the window. The moment she saw his eyes she felt an all too familiar swooping sensation flow through her stomach and chest.

  It was a sensation that would have made her smile and blush less than one month ago, now it just filled her with an empty ache.

  She looked back to Bridget who stood with her hands on her hips, apparently with no intention of backing down.

  Ivy, realizing that this was a battle she was not going to win, finally relented.

  “I’ll serve them their drinks,” she said. “That’s all.”

  Before Bridget could argue further, Ivy grabbed two glasses along with the water pitcher and moved to the bellows table.

  “Ivy,” Elijah said as soon as she arrived. Though she could feel her gaze on her, she kept her head down as she set the glass in front of him and poured his water.

  “Ivy, I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” Elijah continued. “I wanted to explain about what happened…I mean, I wanted to tell you about what you saw the night before last-”

  “Would you like anything else to drink, Mr. Bellows?” she asked coldly.

  “Ivy please-” Elijah started.

  “No thank you, Ivy,” his brother, Mark cut him off. “We’re fine.”

  With a nod, she grasped the water pitcher and began to leave the table. As she did, she felt the desperate urge to turn back but fought against it. Even when she heard the scratching of chairs at the Bellows table, and the sound of the brothers arguing quietly.

  “Elijah, let it go,” Ivy caught Mark’s words. “It’s not worth it.”

  Even though the words and the sound of boot-clad feet standing from the table piqued her curiosity, she didn’t dare turn. It was only as she reached the bar, as a name called her voice in a loud name that she allowed herself to stop.

  “Ivy Grayson,” the voice said. “I love you.”

  Ivy stopped in her tracks, still holding the water jug in her hand, though, it had begun shaking so badly that she feared she might drop it. She could barely sense over the sound of her wild pulse pounding in her ears that the tavern had gone completely still.

  Very familiar boot clad footsteps made their way towards her. She still did not dare to turn around. She did not, could not dare to believe what she had heard.

  “I love you, Ivy,” the voice said more quietly, though she was sure it could be heard in the quiet tavern. He was right behind her now. Once again, she could feel his breath tracing the nape of her neck, just as it had done that night at the mill.

  She swallowed, closed her eyes and told herself firmly not to be taken in by him. She told herself to remember exactly what he had done.

  “Don’t you say that to all the girls?” she asked, trying her best to sound firm. She was ashamed when her voice came out small and meek.

  “No,” he said. “I...I’ve never said that to any woman before.”

  “And how do I know there’s any truth to that?” she asked.

  “Marry me.”

  Ivy turned around on the spot, her eyes wide, her heart pounding inside her chest as though it might fall out. Had Elijah Bellows truly just said…

  “Marry me, Ivy,” he repeated. “Be my wife.”

  “Are...are you-”

  “Sure?” he asked anticipating her question. “I’ve
never been surer of anything in all my life,”

  Ivy stood staring at him, unsure how to respond. She opened her mouth several times but no sound emerged. The longer she stood silent, the more desperate his eyes became. Finally, he reached down and grasped her hands in his.

  “I...I know I am not an ideal husband,” he said. “I have not lived what some might think of as a pure life. I’ve broken more hearts than I care to think but, I’ve realized I don’t want that anymore. I want you. Nothing else.”

  Ivy stared at him, dumbfounded for a long moment. It was like the ending of some absurd comedy. The wealthy man who had every advantage in the world was begging the poor little orphan to be his bride.

  It was the kind of thing that happened in fairy tales about far off lands. Not in Fairfield, Washington in the middle of a dingy tavern with half a dozen onlookers.

  Still, here he was. Elijah Bellows was standing there, in that run down tavern, asking, begging Ivy for her hand in marriage. When she looked at him, he seemed to be hanging on her every breath. It was as if one word from her could guarantee him a long life or send him to a premature death.

  Suddenly, as her eyes filled with tears, she knew what her answer had to be.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, Elijah Bellows. I will marry you.”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, several things happened at once. She found herself lifted from her feet with Elijah’s arms wrapped fully around her as the tavern’s other patrons broke out into a chorus of applause.

  When he set her down, she looked into his eyes and saw that smile. The sweet, genuine, truly thankful smile that she had only seen him wear once before. It was this smile, she supposed, which encouraged her to lean forward and place her mouth gently on his, not caring who was watching.

  Epilogue

  Word spread quickly about Elijah Bellow’s proposal to Ivy Grayson at the Old Tavern, in full view of half a dozen witnesses.

  Several of the older women in town, who had known Elijah since he was a boy, remarked that there must be something miraculous in the water at that Tavern to cause Elijah Bellows to tie himself to any girl.

  The idea of the Tavern’s miraculous water, somehow, caught on. And, within two months, unmarried ladies from nearby towns were making special trips to the tavern hopping to drink the water and find a husband.