Ada stared at Aunt Pearl. She had not seen her aunt since childhood, and those memories had long ago blurred to almost nothing. The tall, stern woman before her bore a strong resemblance to Father, especially in the way her every glance was a challenge. “So what Mr. Burnett said is true. You did sell me into servitude.”
Aunt Pearl threw back her head and laughed, a hearty sound that made one feel utterly ridiculous. “I doubt Jack said that. Come, now. Have a little common sense. He needs a wife in order for his daughter to come home. You need a livelihood. The arrangement is simple. A marriage in name only, and you would be paid to make the kind of home that suits his in-laws. I’m sorry my letter didn’t reach you in time, but there it is. Sometimes our best-laid plans get derailed.”
Ada sank into a tufted velvet chair that had been recently—and hastily—vacated by the justice of the peace the moment she had hurtled into her aunt’s parlor. Her head ached, pounding in her ears. Her breath came in short gasps. She was thousands of miles away from the only home she’d ever known and from her sisters. She had come out here specifically to raise the money needed to finance the rest of their education. Failing that, she would create a home for them, and they would come live with her.
Marriage to Jack Burnett, though distasteful, would solve both problems. She would earn money and create a home.
When her father died and his business affairs had collapsed, she had accepted her role as head of the family, even though she was just twenty years old. It was her duty to come out to Texas and create a life for herself and for her sisters so that they could all be together again someday. They were only a few years behind her, but she was miles ahead of them both in terms of maturity and a sense of duty. She had envisioned being her aunt’s helpmate on her sprawling ranch. She had not planned on marrying and certainly never thought of marrying a stranger. Yet, by doing just that she could solve her problems immediately.
“I never considered getting married.” She stated it slowly and firmly.
“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re a suffragette,” Aunt Pearl replied with a laugh. She settled into the chair opposite Ada and regarded her frankly.
“I prefer the term suffragist. Adding a diminutive suffix, such as-ette, to the noble cause of suffrage demeans our work, I feel.” They were going off on a tangent, but at the same time, she had to take every opportunity, however untimely, to educate others about the cause. “But, no, that is not the reason, Aunt Pearl. I saw what happened in my parents’ marriage. Father took Mother’s fortune and ran through it like water. Mother was powerless to stop it. Once she married, all she had belonged to him.” She shuddered. “That’s why I campaign for the right to vote. Women should demand equality in all things. I refuse to suffer the same fate as my mother.”
Aunt Pearl looked at her, silent for a moment. She resembled Father so closely. She had the same blue eyes and the same steel-gray hair. Even the way she folded her hands in her lap was a familiar gesture. It was strange, being around someone who looked so much like her parent and yet wasn’t. The comparison between the two made a lump rise in her throat. Yes, she was angry at Father and had despaired of his wastefulness, but she did miss him all the same.
“I know Augustus was a poor businessman,” Aunt Pearl finally admitted. “Even way out here, we heard of his goings-on. The big fancy house in New York, the debutante balls, the jewels...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Then he started dabbling in politics. Gus always got in over his head with stuff like that. Did he really try to rig that election?”
Ada shrugged. “I don’t know. I never had the chance to ask him. He died the day the scandal broke. I’ve been too busy trying to arrange things since then to even stop and wonder if he was guilty.”
Aunt Pearl nodded. “Tell me, Ada, do you have faith?”
What a surprising question. Ada had never really considered the matter before. “Yes, of course. We go to church every Sunday.”
“What I am talking about is faith, Ada, not worship. Living out here, you have to have a lot of trust in God. There isn’t any other way to make it. Do you believe that God has a plan for you?”
“I suppose so.” Uneasiness gripped Ada. “Are you saying that He wants me to marry Jack Burnett?”
Aunt Pearl laughed again. “Child, you are sharp. You don’t need the suffrage movement, but I could see how it might need you. I am telling you that Jack Burnett is a fine young man, with a lot of land of his own and a pretty house up on the hill. He’s handsome, to boot, but you’ve seen that for yourself. I’ve known him since he moved out here with his first wife, Emily. She was a bit hoity-toity for my tastes, and I think you’ll be a better match for him than she was. You could do a lot worse.”
“If I marry him, it would be in name only. You said so yourself.” Ada stood her ground. She folded her arms across her chest.
“If you’re worried that Jack Burnett will run through your money, like Gus did to your mother, just remember that you have not a cent to your name,” her aunt warned her tartly. “Only through marriage will you gain anything. Now go upstairs and freshen up. I’ll call the justice of the peace in.”
Angry frustration rose in Ada’s chest, but the solution was before her.
She hated being ordered around.
She left the parlor, shaking with anger, and made her way to the bedroom upstairs. She filled the basin with tepid water from the pitcher and scrubbed her face and hands with a bar of lavender-scented soap. The water ran down to the basin in muddy rivulets. She was filthy. There was nothing for it. She must empty the basin out and put in fresh water in order for her ablutions to have any benefit at all.
Ada heaved the basin up, dribbling some of the contents on her dress. How absolutely disgusting. She would not feel really refreshed until she’d taken a long bath in scented water and changed into a fresh dress. Until then, this would have to do.
Ada glanced over at the window. It was open, but a screen kept her from being able to fling the water from the second story. She struggled out of the room and down the stairs. It was going to be rather difficult to keep the water from sloshing over with each step, but if she took the stairs slowly, most of the water would be contained. When she reached the bottom stair, she hoisted the basin onto her hip. Where should she throw the water? Aunt Pearl was nowhere to be seen, and there seemed to be absolutely no servants anywhere. She paused, biting her lip. Well, she couldn’t very well wander through the house with a bowl full of dirty water. She had already arrived looking ridiculous enough as it was.
She crossed the front entry and opened the screen door. Then, without pausing, she flung the water in the general direction of the yard.
A deep, decidedly male voice exclaimed, “Whoa, there.”
Ada gasped, dropping the bowl in her surprise. It smashed, sending ceramic bits and pieces scattering over the length of the front porch. Horrified, she surveyed the damage and then raised her eyes to behold Jack Burnett, his face and the front of his shirt both dripping wet. If only the ground would open up and swallow her.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Burnett.” She tugged inside her sleeve, pulling out her handkerchief. “Here. Take this.”
He motioned the handkerchief away, his expression dark and unreadable. “No, thank you. I’ve got one of my own. I wouldn’t want to ruin yours.” He mopped his brow. “I suppose you and your aunt have had a chance to talk?”
“We have,” she replied, with as much dignity as she could muster.
He tucked the bandanna back in his pocket, and a surge of some strange feeling grabbed hold of Ada. Surely she wasn’t attracted to this man? He was no better than any other man of her acquaintance, arrogant and smug. No, she must be exhausted from the journey and from the emotional upheaval she had endured.
“Will you marry me?”
“For a price?” She couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. She cleared her throat.