removed the letters from her reticule and locked them in her nightstand before heading back downstairs and out the door where she planned on having a long talk with the Lord. After the conversation with her mother, she needed one.
* * *
Two hours later, after the dinner dishes were finished and the kitchen cleaned, Leah excused herself and went up to her room, shutting the door behind her. With one right turn of the passkey she locked the door, then tossed the key in her armoire drawer and quickly readied herself for bed. Against the headboard she propped up her pillows and settled herself on top of her lavender quilt. With a quick turn of the brass skeleton key, she unlocked her nightstand drawer, removed the letters, a pencil, and her Mr. Darcy diary and opened it up to the next blank page.
Dear Mr. Darcy, she penciled in as she had been doing ever since Rainee had given her the journal. Somehow Leah had felt silly just writing to her journal, but this way she felt like she was writing to a real, live person somewhere—someone who understood what she was going through. Someone who didn’t make fun of her. She thought about calling it her Dear Daddy diary, but that hurt too much, so she named it the next best thing after her father, Mr. Darcy.
Today, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I had received many letters to my advertisement. I can’t wait to read them, and I want you here when I do. My greatest hope is that I will find you in one of them.
For years I’ve dreamed of finding someone as wonderful as my father. You’re the closest thing to that. But you already know that, don’t you? I’ve shared it with you enough times.
I so desperately need to move. To escape the nightmares. I can’t take them much longer. They’re getting even worse and are coming more often. I just have got to find the peace I had before tragedy took Daddy away from me.
She grimaced.
Before the Idaho Territory took him from me.
Fresh anger roiled inside her.
I hate this place, Mr. Darcy! My father would still be alive if we hadn’t ever moved here. I miss him terribly.
She brushed away a tear, let out a long sigh and forced her shaking hand to continue.
I want to go back to New York. That’s why I placed an ad in the New York Times. I’m going to stop writing now so I can read my letters, but I’ll be back to let you know how they are. See you in awhile.
Love,
Leah
She set her diary off to the side and picked up the first letter postmarked from New York. Her heart raced as she tore open the envelope. Was this it? Was this the man who would make everything good again? She couldn’t wait to see.
Dear Madam,
I am answering your advertisement because I am in need of a wife. It is my father’s wish that I marry a woman who is willing to bear me many sons so as to continue the Hamlen name and lineage.
Leah felt heat rush into her cheeks. The man was rather forward with his mention of bearing children. Such an intimate detail for him to openly share. Most inappropriate. But then again, if that was his design in marrying, then she could understand why he would bring it up. Still, the very idea that he did made her uncomfortable.
With uneasiness squirming through her, she continued to read.
The women here refuse to submit to my authority, and I will not have that. I will say straightaway that I am a strict believer in the Bible and where it says that the man is the head over the woman and she is to submit to her husband. If you do not have a problem with being submissive to me and calling me Lord, then please contact me. If not, do not bother responding.
Signed,
Mr. Gregory Joseph Hamlen III
Leah laughed. No wonder the man was still single. What woman in her right mind would ever marry such a man as he?
She imitated Jake and tore the letter and envelope into pieces. After she did, she wished she hadn’t and instead kept it to read to Jake. “If he thought some of his letters were bad, well, this one topped any of his,” she whispered into the empty room.
Leah scanned through the pile of letters. One with precise penmanship snagged her attention. She looked at the return envelope and her heart skipped a beat. Sweet twinkling stars above! She clutched the envelope to her chest and looked upward. “Lord, is this a sign from You?”
Pulling her attention back onto the letter, she read the name on the return label again.
Fitzwilliam D. Barrington.
Fitzwilliam was Mr. Darcy’s first name. She wondered what the D stood for. Darcy? No. Surely not. That would be too weird, even for her. Brushing all those thoughts and the strand of hair that had fallen against her cheek aside, she flipped the envelope over and carefully ran her finger over the red waxed seal with the fancy script B insignia.
Dear Miss Bowen,
As I have just moved to the United States of America from England, I have not had the pleasure to make many acquaintances as of yet. The women I have met do not share your good opinion to travel and to explore the world. I must confess, your exuberant advertisement has quite intrigued me, and I must meet you. If it is agreeable with you, perhaps I could come on Tuesday next or within a fortnight to meet you. We could spend time getting acquainted to see if there could be a future for us together. If this is agreeable, then please send a post to me straightaway.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Fitzwilliam D. Barrington
Relief drizzled over her. Mr. Barrington was willing to come here. She wouldn’t have to risk breaking her mother’s heart by traipsing off to New York by herself. She tossed everything from her lap onto the floor and rushed over to her writing desk.
Retrieving her best stationery, she dipped her pen in the ink well and penned her reply, making sure to use the swooping letters that looked so beautiful. Everything about this reply had to be perfect. After all, Fitzwilliam would make his decision about her and their future from it. Tomorrow she would take it to the post office. Bubbles of excitement popped through her. In her heart of hearts she felt she had at last found her very own Mr. Darcy who would come and whisk her away.
* * *
Jake saddled his horse and made his way to the Bowens’ house. No one would be expecting him for at least another hour, but he couldn’t sleep so he’d decided to head to their place early in hopes of seeing Leah. The morning nip brushed across him on a light breeze. He pulled the lapels of his wool coat tighter together, hoping the morning sun would soon penetrate the chilly air.
As he rounded the bend of pine trees nestled against the mountain leading to the Bowen ranch, his anticipation of seeing Leah caused his heart to beat erratically as he rode into their ranch yard. Leah had a way of making him feel special. He loved spending time with her.
He glanced toward the barn. There she was, sitting on a bench outside the barn door, petting Kitty, the
