Mail Ordered Deception

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

(One month earlier)

Jackson’s Point of View

“No! Absolutely not!” Jackson shouted, pounding his fist onto the dining table in front of him. The hard mahogany wood hurt his hand, but he paid it no bother. What was just proposed to him was completely out of the question in his eyes and he did not have time or the patience to deal with this right now. His horse ranch needed his attention and even though its stature in size and monetary value was small compared to what his family was used to and they looked on his ranch with disdain, it was his.

“Jacky, be reasonable. You know this proposition speaks to reason." His older sister was usually right and maybe it was the whiskey burning his throat, or maybe it was the authoritative tone in her voice, but the defiance and pride in him wout not dare admit that she was right this time. She rolled her eyes at him, and in that moment, she looked exactly like their own mother, with the same judgemental brown eyes, set jaw and high cheekbones that accented her face with sophistication as if to suggest good breeding. Her black hair was pulled back into a professional type bun, and it was impossible not to take this woman seriously.

“Do not call me ‘Jacky’, Amelia, and you are the one needing to be reasonable. It isn’t time yet. How can you expect me to make this kind of leap? Especially with Bethany,” he quieted at the mention of his daughter’s name. He did not want her hearing this particular conversation.

“Brother, it is because of Bethany that I think this is a good idea. You have your hands full taking care of the house and managing this farm. I am needed away in California caring for mother in her final days so I cannot stay any longer." She paused, and Jackson noticed she was about to cry at the thought of losing their mother. Honestly though, she and Jackson had never been close and so he was not feeling as strongly as his sister seemed to be about their mother’s impending death. “Bethany needs a mother, Jackson. And you need a helpmate." He did not want to say what he knew she was thinking. If he had not married for love in the first place, this would not be as difficult of a situation for him. He turned from her, facing the wall that was really a large window overlooking the five hundred acres in his name. On his desk in his office was what seemed like a mountain of paperwork, the workers were already in double shifts, and his daughter was missing his attentions. It was true that something had to be done.

“I have never agreed with the idea of marrying someone I have never even met before, Amelia. I am not sure I should start now." She huffed in exasperation at his remark.

“It worked well enough for mother and father, and it is agreeable to me. I have a husband who provides for my wants and for the most part stays out of my way. When I need it, I have companionship and a warm bed. What more do you actually need, Jackson?” What he needed was his laughter back. The kind that caused his whole body to shake. He needed his heart to skip a beat from nothing more than a smile and to race at the prospect of getting more. These were the things he got from his dear Lilly. The things he was sure to never get again.

But then, Jackson thought of Bethany and what her life was to look like. He imagined her growing into womanhood with no one to show her the way. As a father, he had to put her first. This thought seemed to be her cue, as the sound of her footsteps approached. She was running, which she knew was not allowed, but he did not let that bother him now. Within a few seconds, a short vision of long brown hair rushed into the room.

“Daddy!” she hollered happily, as she bounded into his arms. He cuddled her close to him and smiled in content. Once again, Amelia was right. This was not just about himself anymore. The little four-year-old in his arms was now his whole world and he would do anything for her, including marry a complete stranger.

“Alright. Send in the order. I want her to travel immediately, and only first-class. You win, sister." Bethany pulled away to look at him and gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Daddy, can you play with me please?” she asked, a pleading look in her deep green eyes. His heart melted as he caressed her face.

“Not now, sweetheart. Daddy has work to attend to." Her face fell and a tear rolled down her cheek. This was a sentence she had grown accustomed to hearing and she lowered herself down. As she walked away, his heart broke for her and he called out to her once more. “Bethany,” she turned to face him, “tell Julian I want him to take you on a trail ride. You can even take Misty." Misty was her favorite horse and though she was a champion jumper, he sometimes allowed Bethany to take the horse away from its training routine. She offered him a small smile, but it did not quite reach her eyes this time.

Once Bethany was out of the room, Jackson regained his composure. He ran his fingers through his hair and watched as his sister filled out the order form. How a woman decided to become a mail order bride was beyond him. The whole idea disgusted him. It was no better than working as a man’s personal lady of the night. The only difference being the payment was room and board instead of money. Then again, he now had no right to judge as he now found himself using the very service he found detestable. No. He thought to himself. This was different. Jackson was not the type of man to expect a woman to give herself to him unwillingly. Besides, he could never see another woman in that way again. No one could compare to Lilly.

With that thought in his mind, he pulled out his pocket watch that hung on a chain in the pocket of his vest. When he opened it, it revealed on the inside a picture of his late wife. He stared at it for quite some time, remembering her delicate pale skin and blonde curls that bounced when she walked, which she only ever did with grace. Her green eyes that lived on through their daughter that had the commanding intensity of a lady. Jackson smiled and traced the picture with his fingers. At the sound of his sister clearing her throat, he snapped the watch closed and returned it to his pocket.

“The order is finished. I’m leaving tomorrow, Jackson. Would you like me to send this out on my way?” He nodded and swallowed the last gulp of whiskey.

“What’s her name? My bride-to-be, what is her name?” Even though it did not really matter to him in the long run, Jackson figured it was probably for the best that when he sent someone to pick her up, they know whom they were looking for.

“Her name is Monica Greene."

Present Day

Monica’s Point of View

Twelve more hours passed and she had since had a lunch of roast beef, mashed potatoes with a mushroom gravy, and a vegetable medley, and a delicious chocolate dessert that she did not know the name of. A glass of champagne had been offered to her but she politely declined due to never having had alcohol before. It was then that the train began to slow to a stop and her heart began to beat faster. Every second, it beat faster still. Her palms started to sweat and her knees shook as she stood up. Monica then lifted her suitcase and waited for her knees to stop knocking. Once she got her bearings again, she strode out of the car and onto the train platform.

Looking around, she couldn’t find a single man that matched the description of the order. A twenty-seven-year-old man, five feet and eleven inches tall, short blonde hair, blue eyes, and a small scar on the chin. Instead, a much shorter man approached wearing spectacles and a business suit. He carried with him a briefcase and was old enough to be balding a little bit.

“A...a..are you M..mmonica Greene?” He asked her in a stuttering voice. It was unclear to her whether it was due to a disability or simply a case of nerves. Either way, she felt for the man and offered him a smile.

“Yes, I’m Monica. What’s your name, sir?” She extended her hand and he took it gently. He seemed to calm down immensely and smiled back at her.

“My name is Edward Thomas, ma’am. I’m Mr. Porter’s accountant. He sent me to pick you up and bring you back to the manor." Monica raised an eyebrow. The manor? Just how rich is this man? She wondered to herself. She had received money for first-class train fare, a Model-T to pick her up, he had an accountant, and he lived in a manor. If she wasn’t in need of such a large amount of money, the idea of this much wasteful spending would make her blood boil. She needed to get on her future husband’s good side however, so she would grin and bear it. Mr. Thomas opened the door for her and allowed her to step inside. This was Monica’s first time inside a car and she tried not to let it overwhelm her.

“What is Mr. Porter like?” Monica asked once Mr. Thomas got back into the driver’s seat. He seemed to reflect for a moment.

“Jackson Porter is an easy man to work for, ma’am. He tends to see the best in people and trusts the people he hires." He paused as if wanting to say more. She knew he was not sure whether he could trust her.

“Do not worry, Mr. Thomas. Nothing you say will leave this car." Mr. Thomas looked like there was more to say by the way his eyes kept darting from the road to her. But instead he finished with a reiteration that Jackson was a good boss.

“He is a caring father as well, ma’am." Monica’s eyes grew wide at that last part. There was no mention of a child in the order, and she had no preparation as a mother. She loved children, that was for sure and they seemed to enjoy her company in return, but was that going to be enough? Monica was not sure. Panic began to set in, and that was not made any easier when the manor came into view. It was easy to spot due to the flat land that surrounded them.

The manor was, she admitted, a grand sight to behold. It was three stories tall and definitely had East and West wings. There were shutters on every window and behind the manor, over the horizon, was a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The vision before her was like something out of a fairytale. This is my new home. She thought to herself.

“I know, it is quite a sight at first, but I promise you will get used to it, ma’am." Monica was not sure she wanted to get used to it. This was not the kind of life that Monica was taught to aspire to. People who lived in these places held no love in their hearts for the less fortunate and are not inclined to help those in need. Anger began to set in, in place of panic. She knew that she was marrying this man for his money but still did not imagine this level of grandeur. She vowed right then and there that she would not lose sight of her humble beginnings, and that having this money would not make her act like she had it.

As the car pulled into a parking position near the front stoop, Monica noticed several men and women approaching from all directions. Some coming out from behind the manor, a few coming from the stables to the East, and some coming from the gardens in the West. They came slowly as if unsure as to whether or not they were allowed to get close. In fact, no one got closer than roughly a twenty-foot distance from the car. Monica looked over at Mr. Thomas, who in turn looked at her with a smirk on his face.

“Why do they look at me this way? I am not a crazy person." He shook his head without answering and opened the door. Mr. Thomas then exited the vehicle and stepped around to her side of the car. Opening the door for her, Mr. Thomas extended his hand in invitation. Monica took it and stepped out, her feet hitting the rocks that made up the road to the manor. She took a long look around, and noticed the tattered clothing these people all wore, and there were many. There were too many people to count. Suddenly, the realization dawned on her. These were all employees of her future husband. These people would all soon be her employees too. She could not imagine allowing people that were under her direction to be living in conditions that had them dressing this way. Especially if she had access to the amount of funds that Jackson so clearly did.

Monica allowed Mr. Thomas to lead her away from the car and toward the front door. She turned back to retrieve her luggage, only to find one of the men from the crowd, already picking it up from the backseat of the car and following behind them. By the time she faced forward again, they were standing directly in front of a set of large double doors with knockers meant to resemble the heads of lions. Monica couldn’t decide then if they intrigued her or frightened her. She was not given long to ponder, for Mr. Thomas seemed urgent to carry on. He pushed one of the doors open and led her inside. This time, Monica could not take another step forward without taking in her surroundings. The room before her was larger than the house she grew up in, and the marble floor shined below her feet. What seemed like thirty feet away was the entrance to a long hallway with bronze colored carpeting and lights along both sides of the wall. Between each light were doors.

What captured her attention more than the hallway, was the grand staircase above it. There was a flight of stairs on either side of the room that extended upward until they both reached the second floor. She could not see what lay above that due to the ceiling above her, but a twinge of excitement coursed through her as she allowed her imagination to run. She scanned around the room and noticed that around the rounded walls of the room were bookshelves that spanned the height of the room, and each shelf was filled completely with books that most likely contained every subject that could be studied. Although this was only the first room she had seen, she knew just for this aspect, it would be her favorite in the whole manor. It was then, that she heard a cough. Looking forward, Mr. Thomas was clearing his throat in order to get her attention.

“Shall we continue to your room, ma’am? You have had a long trip and would surely like to rest and unpack before you meet Mr. Porter,” she noticed his eagerness and nodded her head.

“Absolutely, Mr. Thomas. Lead the way." They climbed the staircase and she saw another flight of stairs that matched the first. They climbed that flight as well. This was the top floor of the manor and she was certain she had never been this high off the ground before. This floor also had a long hallway but this one only had a few doors and one large double set at the end. This floor was hardwood and lit brightly above her. Her eyes scanned around her and she almost ran into Mr. Thomas’ back when he stopped in front of the door adjacent to the double set a few feet away.

“The room next to us is the master bedroom. It is where Mr. Porter sleeps, takes his meals, and where he goes when he wants to be left alone." Monica noticed how solemnly he spoke the last part, leading her to believe Mr. Porter spent much time wanting to be alone. “This room however,” he began as he turned the knob and pushed open the door, “is yours." Monica gaped again and even began to tear up. Before her, was a large canopy bed with what looked to be the softest pillows and blankets. The floor was hardwood but had a large grand rug that spanned most of the room. About ten feet from the foot of the bed was a forest green couch that faced a large fireplace that was already burning with a beautiful fire. Next to the couch was a small table with an oil lamp and a tea set.

Across the room was a set of glass doors and Monica could not stop herself from walking there and opening them. She then stepped out onto a concrete balcony overlooking the vast ranch and beautiful landscape that spanned this property. Looking to the right, she noticed a similar balcony that must have led back into the master bedroom. Monica did her best to ignore the idea of Mr. Porter and herself seeing each other on their respective balconies in the mornings. Though the idea of her having her own balcony was difficult enough for her to grasp, so the rest came easy. Coming back into the room, she noticed there were two doors inside her room that did not lead to the hallway. The first opened easily and led to a bathroom with running water. She was shocked to find both a wash basin and a clawfoot bathtub that had a hot and cold water spicket for each. This kind of privacy was unknown to her and perhaps this was the thing she looked forward to most in this new life.

Monica went back into the bedroom and tried the second door. It did not budge. In fact, it appeared to be locked. She looked to Mr. Thomas for an explanation.

“That door leads to the master bedroom, ma’am,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “Mr. Porter keeps that door locked at all times."

“I see,” Monica said, removing her hand from the knob. The man that had grabbed her suitcase had been so quiet, she did not even notice that he had set it down on her bed and left. She felt guilty that she did not even have a chance to thank him, whomever he was.

“Well ma’am, I need to go back to attending my duties. Will you be alright here until Mr. Porter sends for you?” She nodded and thanked him for all of his help. Mr. Thomas offered her a little smile before turning and leaving her alone in her room. He closed the door behind him and the only sound she could hear was the fire crackling nearby. There was a dresser next to the door that led to the hallway, and she used it to hold her few articles of clothing. She then took out her hairbrush and her solitary piece of jewelry, a golden locket with a small emerald stone set above it. Inside was her most cherished possession and that was a picture of her parents on either side. Beside the balcony doors sat a vanity with a large mirror and a few small drawers. Monica sat there and took the time to brush her auburn hair. After every lock was tangle free, she moved to the bed and lay there above the covers. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was overwhelmed by how tired she had become. Closing her eyes, she quickly fell deeply asleep.

Jackson’s Point of View

The hours of the day seemed to drag before Jackson as he sat at the desk in his office. Work spread out before him and yet he felt like there was nothing to be done. When he felt like this, there was only one thing to do. He reached into the drawer below and pulled out a glass and a half bottle of whiskey. He filled the glass to almost the top and began to drink. The sensation of burning alcohol had become a comfort to him and the pleasant light feeling in his head after a few sips was one of the few things that brought him pleasure in this world anymore. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, sipping away at his glass. When he finally opened his eyes again, he saw his ranch foreman, Terrance McKnight. He was looking at Jackson with a look of sadness in his eyes.

“You know this isn’t healthy, Jackson,” he began. Jackson set his glass down on the desk, now almost empty and sat upright in his chair. Normally, he wouldn’t tolerate such candid behavior from his employees, but Terry was his best friend and they had known each other since childhood. This gave him some allowances. Not that he had any plans to let Terry’s worries stop him from indulging. “You know, Bethany is starting to notice, right? Your drinking, and your lack of time for her lately." At that, Jackson stood abruptly and stared Terry in the face.

“Terry, I do not mind you offering your opinion from time to time. In fact, as my foreman and friend, I encourage it." His look turned into a glare. “But don’t you dare, ever bring up the relationship between my daughter and me ever again. Are we clear?” Terry nodded and took another step towards the desk.

“I apologize, brother. That was not my place. The reason I came in, is that I needed to tell you that unfortunately we lost another dozen foals." Jackson sighed and sat back down. That brought the total to thirty foals dead this Spring. Whatever fever was killing his horses was spreading quickly, even with the precautions of quarantine. Funnily enough, the only horses getting sick were freshly weaned foals and he was beginning to lose money hand over fist to this mysterious illness.

“Thank you for letting me know. Maybe I should look the dead ones over, myself. I might be able to see something and figure out why this keeps happening."

“I’m sorry Jackson but that won’t be possible. I buried the bodies already in an attempt to keep the illness from spreading."

“I understand your concern, but your haste might be causing more problems. I have yet to personally inspect any of the horses that you told me were sick or dead." Jackson shook his head. This was the third time a set of foals had been reported to him sick and then quickly dead. His reputation was beginning to change as a reliable dealer and not only was he losing money with the dead foals, but also now with losing buyers. His head began to hurt again, and as he rubbed his temples, wondered if he should quarantine the rest of his mares and foals. Then a thought jumped into Jackson’s head.

“With all due respect sir, you hired me to do what is necessary to keep your horses healthy, trained and ready for sale. The fewer people that come into contact with the sick ones, the easier it will be to keep quarantine up to standards." This explanation made sense and in the back of his mind, he knew that Terry was correct in these statements.

“That reminds me. When an animal dies from a sickness, you are supposed to burn the bodies, not bury them. You should know that Terry, because that is your job." For a moment, Terry’s eyes twitched.

“Sir, normally that would be the case. However, I believe this sickness spreads in the air and therefore did not want the smoke to be a reason we lose another set."

“You are right Terry. I apologize for doubting you. Hopefully the worst of this is over and we can get back to business as usual." With that, Terry left the room and went back to work. Jackson waited to make sure he wouldn’t come back, then poured himself another glass. He was just about to take the first sip when the door opened again. “WHAT NOW?!” he shouted as he slammed the glass down onto his desk, spilling whiskey all over his papers. “Damnit!” he exclaimed as he began pulling papers off his desk one at a time. He looked up again, and saw it was his daughter standing in the doorway, tears flowing past her eyes as she clutched a stuffed rabbit toy to her chest. Her sobs were quiet as he stared at her in shock. She was hurt and afraid, and he could see that from the way her little body was shaking. “Bethany,” he whispered, stepping around the desk. She backed away, as if to avoid closing the distance between them.

Before he could say another word to her, his little girl turned around and ran back down the hallway, the sound of her crying echoing softly back into his office. He sank back into his chair, ignoring the rest of his papers, now surely ruined. He had never raised his voice at Bethany before and could not believe he had done so now. However guilty he felt though, he did not go after her. After all, what would he say? I was embarrassed you caught me getting drunk as usual, I was thinking about your mother again and how life feels void without her? No, he would leave the girl alone. Surely Bethany would calm herself down and forgive him in time.

It had taken time for Jackson to accept Bethany into his heart. For the first six months of her life, Lauren, the head maid of the manor, had been more of a parent to her than he had. It was only after she had taken a week long holiday forcing him to spend personal time with Bethany that he learned to love her. It helped how much she looked like Lilly, as it felt like a part of her was still with him. Once that love began to enter his heart, it overflowed in him in a way he had never known. Bethany quickly became his whole world after that point.

“Sir,” came a voice from the doorway again, interrupting his thoughts. He looked up this time and saw Lauren. He motioned for her to come forward and went back to cleaning his desk off. He barely got a second in before Lauren stopped him. “Mr. Porter, that is my job. I will clean that up for you." He nodded and moved out of her way. In her apron was all she needed to clean up the whiskey. It almost shamed him to admit how often she had cleaned up a spill from him as of late and even though she worked for him, Lauren was someone who Jackson did not want to disappoint. She worked for his family since he was born, and when he left to start his ranch, she followed. Jackson sometimes felt that she was more of a maternal figure to him than his own mother.

“Was there something you came here for, specifically,” he asked, careful to watch his tone this time.

“Yes sir. Mr. Thomas came to me a moment ago and informed me that Ms. Greene has arrived and has had time to settle in her room." Jackson thought about this for a moment and realized he couldn’t delay the inevitable. So, he thanked Lauren for telling him and proceeded to leave his office behind him. He walked down the hallway and then up the two flights of stairs to the third floor. Once he reached the door to Ms. Greene’s room, he raised his fist to knock. Jackson hesitated, because he didn’t know exactly what he was going to say to her when she opened the door. Still, he forced himself to offer three taps to the door with his knuckles. He waited. Before thirty seconds had passed, he heard the doorknob twisting and he took a polite step back as the door swung open into the room.