Prologue

Fredericksburg, Texas – 1865

Mabel brushed a long strand of hair out of her face and sighed impatiently. Every morning she tied her chestnut-brown hair into a tight bun at the back of her head. Yet, as she scrubbed the stone floors in the kitchen, the backward and forward motion caused her bun to come loose and allow long locks of hair to escape, snaking around her forehead and ears in a way she found frustrating. Mabel had thought of chopping it off many times, but she knew she’d be in trouble if she did.

“How are you getting on with the floors?”

Mabel looked up to see her foster mother, Mrs. Collins, standing in the doorway.

Mrs. Collins was a plump woman who wore a white bonnet atop tendrils of straw-colored hair that hung across her forehead and over her ears. Her cheeks were always pink, and she was always slightly out of breath, as if she’d just come in from a long walk or climbed a flight of steps.

“Just about,” Mabel confirmed.

The baby in Mrs. Collins’ arms started to mew and wiggle. She was the newest member of the Collins household, and it was clear from the dark circles under the older woman’s eyes that she had not had such a small baby in the house for some years.

“Can you take her?” Mrs. Collins requested. “Elmer and Dewey have been in Mr. Mill’s apple orchard again, and if he catches them, he’ll whip them into next week.”

Mabel got up from the floor and wiped her hands on her apron. Beneath her plain dress, her bony knees were black and blue from hours spent scrubbing floors. Mabel took baby Rose from Mrs. Collins, who then went out through the kitchen door and into the garden to search for the twins. Mrs. Collins was a kind woman, but she knew when to draw the line and Mabel liked that about her foster mother.

Rose, who was nearly asleep, suddenly hiccupped and startled herself awake.

“Shh, shhh,” Mabel soothed as the child’s face began to crumple.

Mabel walked over to the large kitchen window with baby Rose, who she rocked gently in her arms.

“I am sorry your ma ran away,” Mabel whispered. “My ma and pa are also gone.”

Mabel saw a tiny crease form between her eyebrows, and she smoothed it gently with her thumb.

“Sleep now, sweet girl,” Mabel soothed. “It’ll all look better in the morning.”

Maud, Rose’s ma, had run away only a few days ago without a single clue where she had gone or if she was coming back. No one knew much about her father other than he’d been a soldier passing through town. The war had ended a few months back, and perhaps Maud hoped he’d return to her, but he didn’t.

Maybe he was dead, or maybe, as most of the townspeople believed, he’d gotten everything he’d wanted last time he was in town. Whatever the case, when Maud left, her pa brought his grandbaby Rose to Mrs. Collins’ doorstep. He was willing to care for a child born out of wedlock.

Mrs. Collins had a good heart. Sometimes Mabel thought she had the kindest heart out of anyone she knew, certainly kinder than her own. Mabel could not forgive any mother who would willingly leave their baby behind, no matter the circumstances.

So, poor baby Rose ended up in Mrs. Collins’ house, no better than an orphan, with her grandparents living just half a mile down the road.

Mabel stared out of the window into the garden and hummed indistinctly under her breath. The late September sun was streaming in through the glass, casting a warm glow about the room. She continued to rock a now-sleeping Rose. The world outside was quickly turning from green to gold. The Texas ash was always the first to lose its leaves, and its long branches already stood bare against the blue sky. Mabel always felt a little sad when the seasons changed.

Suddenly, Mabel heard Mrs. Collins caterwauling at the seven-year-old twins, Elmer and Dewey, for stealing Mr. Mill’s apples, and although she felt sorry for poor Mrs. Collins, Mabel could not help but smile to herself. With baby Rose, there were now five of them living under Mrs. Collins’ roof, and there was hardly a peaceful moment most days with the twins getting into mischief or one of them stubbing a toe or scraping a knee.

At thirteen, Mabel was the eldest of all the children, and Mrs. Collins had come to rely on her to help out with them, especially now that Mr. Collins had not returned from the war. Mabel did not mind helping out. She knew that she was an orphan with nothing and no one, and so she should be grateful for whatever future she was given.

Mabel knew all of this, yet she couldn’t help dreaming of something more. Perhaps she’d meet a man who would sweep her off her feet. He would be someone she could marry and have children with, a little family all of her own.

The kitchen door suddenly swung open, and Mrs. Collins stepped back inside the room. Mabel’s pale blue eyes accessed the older woman, whose face and neck were red and blotchy. Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth set into a hard line. However, when she saw Mabel, her face softened.

“I tell you, Mabel, those boys will be the death of me.”

Mabel smiled at the older woman, who looked worn out.

“Why don’t you take baby Rose and have a little lie-down?” Mabel suggested. “I can get started with supper.”

Mrs. Collins gave Mabel a grateful smile. “You’re a special girl, Mabel. God knows what I would do without you.”

Mabel smiled at her foster mother. She carefully handed the sleeping baby to Mrs. Collins, and then headed into the pantry to scrape something together for supper.

An hour later, the kitchen was alive with an array of aromas and sounds. The new potatoes boiled merrily in their pot, while the biscuits, now light and fluffy, rested in their large cast-iron skillet. Mabel had gone out into the small vegetable patch and found some turnips to slice up and boil. There was also a pot of beans bubbling away beside the potatoes. The last thing left to do was to fry the chicken.

Mabel fetched the chicken from the larder. She unwrapped it and could see immediately that there would not be enough for them all. Mabel was grateful that Mrs. Lindsay was due to visit the next day, as supplies were running short.

Once a month, the minister’s wife, Mrs. Lindsay, brought around a food hamper made up of donations from the community. Mrs. Collins, who was never able to have children of her own, had been taking orphans in for over thirty years, raising them up as best she could and then sending them out into the world.

The monthly food donations were the thanks she got from the community of Fredericksburg. It wasn’t much, of course, but it was enough to keep the wolf from the door, and they managed to supplement it quite well with what they grew in their small vegetable garden.

The last of the chicken was sizzling in the saucepan when Mrs. Collins returned to the kitchen. She’d left baby Rose asleep upstairs.

“It’s a good thing Mrs. Lindsay is coming tomorrow,” Mabel said. “We’re running short.”

Mrs. Collins nodded but said nothing as she walked over to the open window and stuck her head out. “Dinner’s ready,” she called.

On days when the weather was good, Mrs. Collins made the boys stay out until dinnertime so she could keep her sanity.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands,” she reminded them as they filed into the kitchen, and peered hungrily at the steaming food Mabel was serving onto their plates.

Mabel always marveled at how long a meal took to prepare and how quickly it was eaten.

“Elmer, Dewey, you are on dish duty for the rest of the week.”

Both boys, who had fire-red curls and freckled cheeks, opened their mouths to argue, but Mrs. Collins shot them with such a sharp look that they decided against it.

Suddenly, they heard baby Rose crying upstairs, and Mrs. Collins got up from the table to tend to her. Mabel stayed to supervise the twins, and when the dishes were done and the kitchen clean, she went upstairs to her small room.

Mabel sat at the rickety wooden desk, reading The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. It was one of several books that Mr. Collins had left in her care after he went to war. Mabel had been about six when Mr. Collins offered to teach her how to read and write. Ever since then, Mabel spent every spare moment she had reading whatever she could get her hands on. It was her escape, and she loved to lose herself among the pages of someone else’s adventures.

Mabel read late into the night until her eyes burned and she was too tired to carry on. She then crawled into bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long while, wondering if she’d ever really be happy, truly happy, like the people in the books she read. Then she sighed, knowing it was all make-believe and that in real life, people like her never really got a happy ending.

***

The next day, Mabel was hanging up sheets on the line in the backyard. Rose was lying on a blanket on the grass, staring up at the passing clouds. A gentle breeze caused the sheets to billow out and it made Mabel wonder if they were jealous of the clouds above and were perhaps trying to mimic them. Mabel’s thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of Mrs. Lindsay carrying a large basket laden with food. She was not, however, alone.

“Good morning, Mabel,” Mrs. Lindsay said warmly.

Mrs. Lindsay was a plain-looking woman who was only truly pretty when she smiled. However, what she lacked in beauty she made up for in character as she was kind, charitable, and always doing her best to help others.

“Good morning,” Mabel echoed.

“This is Mrs. Jones,” Mrs. Lindsay said.

Mabel turned to face Mrs. Jones, a startlingly attractive woman with green eyes and caramel-colored hair she wore in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her skin was like porcelain, without a mark or a freckle to be seen, and Mabel suddenly felt self-conscious of her skin, which was very freckly indeed.

Mrs. Jones smiled at Mabel, but it was one of those smiles that did not quite reach the eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mabel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

This news surprised Mabel but she said nothing, for just then, Mrs. Collins came out into the garden to greet their visitors and invite them in for some tea and biscuits with jam. Mabel had just finished hanging the rest of the laundry when Mrs. Collins called her into the kitchen. She went without question, but couldn’t ignore a flutter of nerves in her stomach as she walked across the garden toward the house. She’d never been invited to have tea with Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Lindsay before.

As Mabel stepped into the brightly lit kitchen she could smell the earthy aroma of fresh coffee. The three women were seated at the kitchen table and as Mabel walked over to them she met Mrs. Jones’ gaze and she suddenly realized how much the elegant woman did not fit into her rather humble surroundings. She could not imagine Mrs. Jones had piles of wood in the corner of the kitchen or that the heavy pans and pots hanging from the wall were layered in dust.

She did not imagine that Mrs. Jones drank out of chipped teacups or that she had lazy cats who let the mice nibble on things in the pantry after everyone had gone to bed. No, Mabel was quite certain that Mrs. Jones’ kitchen looked nothing like this one and Mabel felt curious all of a sudden about what life must be like for someone such as Mrs. Jones.

“Mabel, why don’t you sit down?”

Mabel took a seat and folded her thin hands in her lap. She racked her brain for something she may have done to warrant this invitation but she could not think of anything.

“Mrs. Lindsay brought Mrs. Jones here to meet you,” Mrs. Collins explained. “Mrs. Jones is new to Fredericksburg and is looking for a young woman to be a governess to her two children—”

Mabel frowned slightly, not yet making the connection between Mrs. Jones’ need for a tutor and herself.

“Mrs. Lindsay thought that you might be a suitable candidate for the position.”

Mabel looked from Mrs. Collins to Mrs. Lindsay to Mrs. Jones but she did not know what to say.

“I’d give you room and board and a small wage,” Mrs. Jones explained. “Mr. Jones sadly did not return to us from the war, but he left us with enough to live comfortably. You’d need to start immediately.”

Mabel did her best to listen to everything Mrs. Jones was telling her but she still could not believe she was being offered a job other than chores like cooking and washing. Mabel turned to look at Mrs. Collins, who could read the expression on her face.

“This is your decision, Mabel,” Mrs. Collins said. “And to be frank, it’s more than I can offer you.”

“And you can come home on your day off,” Mrs. Jones promised.

Mabel said nothing for a moment. This had been the only home she’d ever known and yet Mrs. Collins was right—since Mr. Collins’ death, everything had been different, harder. They were barely scraping by and with now another mouth to feed, perhaps Mabel could help by earning something. She would miss her patchwork family but she could come back and see them on her days off, just like Mrs. Jones said. But then again, how would Mrs. Collins manage everything without her? Mabel felt as if she was faced with an impossible choice. However, as she looked around the table, she suddenly knew what she wanted to do; it came to her quite unexpectedly.

Mabel cleared her throat, her heart beating louder in her chest.

“If it is all right with Mrs. Collins, I think I’d like to go and work as a governess from Mrs. Jones.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment and Mabel looked across at her foster mother. She was scared Mrs. Collins would be disappointed, angry even but instead she saw her wearing a look of pride.

“Thank you, Mabel,” Mrs. Jones said gratefully.

Mabel remained seated at the table while the finer details were discussed. It was agreed that she would begin at the start of the next month which was only a week away. Once everything was ironed out, Mrs. Lindsay and Mrs. Jones got up to go, but before she went, Mrs. Jones looked at Mabel and thanked her again for agreeing to come.

That night in bed, Mabel could not sleep, too excited by the day’s events. After Mrs. Lindsay and Mrs. Jones had gone, Mabel and her foster mother remained at the kitchen table and had a long talk. While Mrs. Collins assured Mabel that she would miss her, she was proud that she’d been brave enough to take this opportunity. Mabel promised to send home her salary at the end of every month and while Mrs. Collins had refused at first, in the end they’d come to a compromise that Mabel would keep a portion for herself and send the rest home.

After talking to Mrs. Collins, Mabel felt better about her decision and even began to feel more excited than anxious. She had not realized just how much she longed for a change of scene and this was her chance. Mrs. Collins and the children would always be her family and this would always be her home, but this could be the first step on a new adventure and the life she’d always dreamed about.

Chapter One

Fredericksburg, Texas – 1870

Mabel sat on the end of her small bed, which was covered in a quilt with Blackfoot daisies embroidered along the border. She leaned over to lace up her shoes and when she was done, she sat up and caught sight of her appearance reflected in the window.

Over the last five years, her appearance had changed some. Her face had narrowed, giving her more prominent cheekbones and a slightly pointier chin. Mabel had also recently traded in the tight bun for something older and more sophisticated at the advice of Mrs. Jones, who’d taken her to a woman in town who taught her how to fix it in certain styles considered popular both there and across the Atlantic in England.

That morning, Mabel’s long chestnut-colored hair was now done in two French twists that turned toward one other at the back. The hair at the front of her head had been prettily waved, carried lightly back, and secured just above the twists. The ends were hidden beneath a knot of black velvet ribbon. Mabel had to get up an extra half an hour every day to do her hair.

Mabel gave herself one last moment of vanity before she turned from the window and proceeded downstairs for breakfast. Mrs. Jones was seated at the table alone.

“Good morning, Mabel,” she said brightly in a sing-song voice.

“Good morning,” Mabel replied, a bit puzzled. Mrs. Jones was not usually a morning person. In fact, she almost always had a breakfast tray in her room. “Where are Michael and Sydney?”

“Charles took them out for breakfast,” Mrs. Jones explained, still smiling brightly.

Mabel nodded. Charles, Mr. Jones’ younger brother, had arrived in Fredericksburg about two weeks ago and the children had fallen in love with him. He’d been living in the colonies in India for over a decade but was going back to England soon.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” Mabel enquired. “To breakfast?”

“Well, no, I thought this might be a good opportunity for us to talk,” Mrs. Jones said as her smile faltered slightly.

“About what?” she asked.