Mail Order Bride: Arabella - Emotions Entwined: Brides Of Paradise, #5

By GRACE HEARTSONG

1878. Arabella Claremont graduates from boarding school in Chicago. 

The girls of her dorm will soon return home, marry their fiancés, travel, or take their chances on bride wanted ads in the Chicago papers. 

But when Arabella sees an ad placed by an old friend from Paradise, she must resist her feelings and help her best friend Mary win his heart instead...

Book 5 in the Brides Of Paradise mail order bride series but can also be read as a standalone novelette!
 

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Tags: Mail Order Bride Romance, Historical Religious Christian Frontier Western Romance, Historical Short Stories & Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: BlissRockHub OU
• Release date: Dec 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386963196

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ARABELLA

EMOTIONS ENTWINED

BRIDES OF PARADISE BOOK 5

MAIL ORDER BRIDES

BY GRACE HEARTSONG

EMOTIONS ENTWINED

From across the crowd , Arabella Claremont waved to her family. It was graduation day at the Regis School. The breeze kicked up from the lake and tugged at the skirts of her cream gown. The sea of emotional parents and fidgeting younger siblings spread out before her, lining the shore of about fifty young girls, all clad in the same dress.

Arabella’s father waved back, then lifted her flame-haired, two year old sister up to wave as well. Next to them, her step-mother Cora waved with tears in her eyes as Arabella’s half-sister, the thirteen year old Shannon, made funny faces. Arabella stuck her tongue out, then turned back to find the headmistresses of Regis School glaring at her.

Arabella quickly righted her expression, the finishing school aspect of her time at Regis School quickly coming back to her.

Go on, her friend, Mary, poked her from behind.

Oof, Arabella said, rubbing her ribs. That hurt.

Oh, you’re just being dramatic, Mary shot back with a grin.

The headmistress called Arabella’s name and she strode across, waving again to her family as the older woman listed her accomplishments at the school.

Ms. Arabella Claremont, of Paradise Iowa, has been known here at the school for her talents in painting and music. The headmistress paused and dipped her head to Arabella. May your future be bright and filled with fortune, Ms. Claremont.

Arabella dipped her head. Thank you.

She joined the rest of the graduates on the other side of the stage. She stood on her toes to catch another glimpse of her family.

Her father motioned to his timepiece and she nodded.

After the ceremony, Arabella met her family on the lawn on the school. Shannon, nearly as tall as she was now, hugged her.

Ye didn’t trip, at least, she said, pushing a strand of dark auburn hair from her forehead.

No, Arabella said, pulling back. Were ye hoping I did so ye could have a laugh? The teachers and headmistress had done much to try to rid her of the Irish lilt she’d gotten from her father, but back in the company of her family—her old habits of speech soon emerged once more.

Never! Shannon grinned.

Her father handed her two year old half-sister, Maeve, to Cora and engulfed Arabella in a hug. Dear Bella...well you’ve finally done it. How does it feel?

He kissed her forehead and she smiled, her hands still in his. I’m not sure yet. It will feel very strange to pack everything up. To not walk around these grounds anymore...

Ye have been very lucky to get an education, Cora said, stepping forward. Yer father was very wise to make sure of it.

He was, Arabella said, for she was not ignorant of how fortunate she’d been compared to some. And how is my little Maeve, hopefully she willna be sent away too? she quipped.

Cora’s blue eyes widened. Certainly not! Nor Shannon...yer da knows that.

And would ye go if ye could? Arabella said to Shannon.

Her sister shrugged, the afternoon light making her pale face bright. There’d be nowhere to run, seems there is scarcely enough space here, she said, glancing around. I don’t blame ye if yer ready to be home.

Aye, Arabella said, then turned to her parents. I just need to change and set some things in order, then I’ll meet you back down at Turner Hall for dinner.

My dear, don’t ye want some help? her father said.

No, it’s all right. I need some time to say goodbye to everyone, and I willna bore anyone with it.

If ye say so, her father said. He kissed her cheek once more and they said their goodbyes.

Back in her dormitory, girls fluttered here and there with suitcases and gowns and gifts—and newspapers. There was talk of daring girls going on to university, of rich and adventurous girls going on to travel the world, of hopeless romantic girls going on to finally marry their fiances. And then, over the newspapers, there was excited and giggling talk of finding a husband out west.

Gathering the last few items from her desk drawers, Arabella kept an ear out and listened with piqued interest. Her own step-mother Cora had met her father through such means. It seemed an odd practice, but a happy and fruitful union was truly possible—she’d seen it first hand and so she could not necessarily blame these girls for looking, nor judge them. Those were the girls who’d come to school on a scholarship, much like she had, and hadn’t much to go back to. For them, their chance at a new life altogether rest with mysterious, rugged husbands from the paper.

Arabella! Mary said, rushing over with one of the newspapers.

What—are ye really looking at that? she asked.

Mary raised her dark brows. You gotta better idea? She flipped through the paper, then pointed to an ad half way down. Now look.

Arabella’s forehead creased as she slowly pried her eyes from Mary and moved them to the newspaper.

Good-natured farm worker in Paradise, Iowa looking for a wife ready to work hard for a farm of our own. Must be willing, able, serious, and have the ability to jest and indulge in merriment. Serious inquiries only made out to Mr. William Everly, Emerald Hill Farm.

Do you know him? Mary said, snatching the paper back before Arabella could read it over again—before she could truly process it.

She nodded slowly, her words suddenly sucked dry off her tongue.

William Everly—Billy, as she’d known him, had been working at the Emerald Hill Farm on the outskirts of Paradise since he was ten years old. Billy Everly had shaggy, dirty blonde hair and green eyes—he’d been a lanky boy. He was two years older than she, and she’d met him when she was twelve years old and playing in the stable of the Claremont Hotel on Christmas Eve. He’d come to guide a horse from the farm to the stable, for her father had bought it for the hotel’s use. Billy was an orphan, and had been hard a worker since day one with the dream of one day owning his own farm. They’d become fast friends and had played with each other every holiday break Arabella was home from school.

Around their teen years they had begun to write to each other, but as the years stretched on, the letters became sparse. The last few times she’d visited home, she hadn’t seen or heard from him. She’d chalked his silence up to increased business on the farm. He was of an age now to make decisions on the farm—perhaps he managed it now for the Smythe family. Whatever it was, their lives had taken them in two distinctly different directions—as was wont to happen to childhood friends.

Arabella? Mary waved a hand in front of her face.

Arabella blinked and flushed. What?

I take it you do know this person by that faraway look you just got in your eyes. Mary sat the paper aside and placed her hands on her hips like an inquiring mother.

Erm...yes, we...used to know each other.

Used to? Please tell! Mary said, flinging herself on Arabella’s bed.

Arabella frowned and continued her packing.

Oh come on, I know there’s a story now, Mary said, exasperated.

Arabella snapped her suitcase shut, then sat on the bed with a sigh. She picked up the newspaper and read the ad again. She shook her head and laughed to herself. Yes, I know him...we grew up together—or as much as we could when I’d go home on breaks. We were friends.

"Were?"

"Life gets in the way, ye know how it is. The farm he works on is the biggest in Paradise. No doubt it has kept him