The Cost of Atonement Read online

  The Cost of Atonement

  The Cost of Love Series, Volume 2

  G.S. Carr

  Published by Gabrielle O. Brown, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE COST OF ATONEMENT

  First edition. November 13, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 G.S. Carr.

  ISBN: 978-1386403142

  Written by G.S. Carr.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

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  About the Author

  Chapter One

  NEW YORK CITY, MARCH 1862

  Roasted duck. Virginia tensed the moment the delicious aroma reached her nostrils. She slowly opened the door of the cozy brownstone she and her father shared. Eyes searching and ears straining to listen, she attempted to find the source of the problem. Roasted duck with a side of garlic rosemary potatoes and fresh green beans was her favorite meal. Mrs. Josephine, their cook, only made it when she knew something horrible was about to happen and Virginia would need the solace of a comforting meal.

  Virginia closed the front door as delicately as possible, pausing every so often when the treacherous hinges squealed in protest. She scanned the narrow hallway leading toward the back of the brownstone. Nothing seemed amiss. Treading lightly, Virginia tiptoed down the hallway toward the parlor so as not to alert anyone to her presence.

  There it was—or, more like, there he was. Another male corralled by her father, no doubt through an endless litany of lies about how amazing a wife Virginia would make. This man—with his pinched face, beady eyes, and lips so unusually thin they looked like a scowling line drawn on a cartoon character from the local political papers—could be cousins with a naked mole rat.

  Deep-set ridges streaked his furrowed forehead. His stony, blank stare carried no emotion. Joy was probably a foreign concept to this man—as well as passion, humor, and anything else necessary to make a marriage enjoyable. More white than brown covered his balding head; he had to be at least fifteen years her senior. Virginia would never agree to marry such a man, even if faced with abject poverty. But, of course, her father didn’t care about any of those things. To him, any man willing to remove the burden that was his daughter would make a suitable husband.

  As quietly as she’d come, Virginia pedaled backward down the hall, ready to escape to her room. A squeaky floorboard betrayed her retreat, and she looked to the heavens in exasperation. Both men’s heads turned in her direction—one with overwhelming cheer, and the other with complete indifference.

  “Ah, Virginia, my dearest,” her father crooned. “Come, come.”

  The cheer on her father’s face reminded her of a child on Christmas morn. This did not bode well for her. Virginia followed her father’s instructions and walked into the sitting room. She stood next to the wing-back chair he occupied with her eyes cast to the ground, refusing to sit, tension coiled in every muscle.

  “My dove, you look radiant today, glowing with youth and good health.”

  Her father had never used such pet names when talking to her. Thorn in my side. Heathen, perhaps. Never graceful birds of divine beauty. Of course, the youth and good health portion of his speech was meant for the gentleman in the room, not her. A not-so-subtle way of pointing out that she was still well within her childbearing years.

  Virginia was pulled from her angry musings when her father’s ragged cough reached her ears. His shoulders shook with the force of it. For a moment, all else was forgotten. His cough had been getting progressively worse as of late; she made a mental note to call the doctor to visit him again soon.

  He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his mouth. Is that blood? Virginia squinted at the small piece of white fabric, but her father shoved it into his pocket before she could examine it closely.

  “I beg your pardon—the dust lodges in my throat from time to time,” her father said, fixing a smile back on his face. He placed a hand in the middle of her back, turning her a bit in the gentleman’s direction like a horse breeder showing off his prized mare. Virginia’s concern vanished as the anger took hold again.

  “Sir Reginald Mumford, may I present to you my daughter, Virginia Lillian Hatcher. Virginia, this is Sir Mumford. He has requested my permission for your hand in marriage, to which I have most ardently agreed.”

  A deathly silence followed her father’s statement. This was the point at which she was expected to preen and smile like a ninny being granted a grandiose favor, but Virginia would do no such thing. Reginald Mumford. Even his name sounded as dry as he looked. She had no intention of willingly entering a prison cell in the form of a miserable marriage to this man.

  “Darling, where are your manners?” her father asked, pinching the skin beneath her elbow. Virginia barely flinched. “Greet Mr. Mumford properly.”

  “Mr. Mumford, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Virginia said in a dry tone, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

  Either unaware or unaffected by the subtle insult, Reginald tilted his head to several different angles, assessing Virginia. “Not bad. A nice face, but a little on the thin side. However, there is enough meat on her bones to carry several of my sons.”

  Virginia’s mouth slackened, opening and closing as she lost her ability to speak. She knew such chauvinistic men existed, but to be on the receiving end of one’s words was a new experience.

  Her father’s smile spread wider, tinted with a hint of relief. No doubt he’d worried that she had offended Mr. Mumford, ignoring the fact that the gentleman had offended her. Mr. Mumford sat blinking, oblivious to the offensiveness of his statements.

  “While your assessment of me is not the most unflattering I’ve heard,” Virginia said, “it still did nothing to warm me to the idea of marrying you. How about we learn a little about each other?”

  Reginald looked from Virginia to her father, who gave a slight nod of encouragement. “Very well, then. Are you a good seamstress? I find my clothing in need of repair on a rather frequent basis.”

  Virginia crossed her arms as she stared down her nose at Mr. Mumford. He could have at least pretended to care about who she was as a person. A mischievous smirk spread across Virginia’s lips as a thought entered her mind.

  “Sewing is a talent I have not perfected, but can manage. Although my heart’s passion is being an abolitionist. One day, I want to devote as much of my energy as possible to bringing freedom to all people. After all, we are all human.” Virginia stressed the word human.

  Reginald straightened in his chair, releasing a dismissive scoff. He ignored Virginia’s statement and turned to look at her father. “What time frame did you have in mind for the ceremony?”

  “I beg your pardon,” Virginia fumed, placing her hands on her hips. “I have
not agreed to marry you.”

  Mr. Mumford met Virginia’s glare with an unperturbed stare of his own, as if noticing an annoying fly buzzing near his ear. “Madam, I do believe you have the wrong notion about what this is. I only obliged your silly request as a show of goodwill. I need a wife to bear me sons to work on my farm, and I’m not overly choosy about who that woman is. Thus, I have agreed to pay your father a handsome sum of money for you. This is not a matter of the heart. This is business.”

  “Well, no, I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” Virginia’s father sputtered. A rosy flush crept up his neck and across his face as he sat up straight at the edge of his chair, ready to leap to Mr. Mumford’s aid should Virginia decide to wallop him.

  “Then how would you phrase it, Father?”

  His mouth opened and closed, but the excuses stayed lodged in his throat. At least he had enough of a heart to appear remorseful.

  “Never mind—I don’t wish to know. Tell Mrs. Josephine her meal smells delicious, and I am sad to miss it. However, my appetite has suddenly abandoned me. I will be in my room if you need me.”

  Virginia turned to leave the room before either man could reply. As she left, another bout of coughing and the faint whispers of her father’s apology reached her ears. But the apology was not meant for her. Virginia swallowed hard, fighting off the quiver of her chin. She hated crying, especially angry, hurt crying.

  “No need to apologize,” Mr. Mumford replied in a sympathetic voice. “The city has a way of corrupting a parent’s good, moral teaching in young women such as Virginia. It gives them crazy notions about independence. Next thing you know, they will be wanting to vote. A few babies and time in the country will fix that.”

  Virginia didn’t wait to hear her father’s response. She took the steps two at a time, running up the stairs toward her room as fast as her legs could carry her. Unwelcome tears spilled down her cheeks, adding to her annoyance. She forcefully wiped them away with her fist.

  After months of her father trying to pawn her off on another man through marriage, Virginia thought that her heart had been hardened against scenarios such as this. Slamming the door to her room, she threw herself against her bed. Virginia lay on her back, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She continued to wipe away the tears until they finally dried up. Neither her father or any man would ever have the satisfaction of being the reason she cried again.

  Chapter Two

  THE BRIGHT LIGHT OF the early morning sun filtered through the window above Virginia’s writing desk, casting the shadow of her hand over the blank white page of her journal. She normally found solace in her morning journaling, but today the words refused to come.

  The pain and disappointment from the events of last night plagued her mind. She needed to put them to paper to free herself of their hold. She placed the tip of her quill to the paper, and again, it froze, unable to find the words to express all the emotions swirling in her heart.

  With a growl, Virginia shoved the quill back in its inkwell and slammed the journal shut. She scrubbed her palms over her face, then cradled her head in her hands.

  How could life deal her such a hand, and how could she be free of it? A light knock on her bedroom door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Enter,” Virginia called out, not standing from her writing desk.

  The door slowly creaked open. It stood ajar for a moment before her father stuck his graying head around it. His eyes briefly met Virginia’s before fluttering away. A slight pink blush covered his neck and ears. Virginia wanted desperately to believe—but dared not hope—that what she saw on her father’s face was remorse.

  It would be too much to bear if she were to hope he had changed his mind about the marriage and be wrong. Her father shuffled farther into the room until he stood about an arm’s length away from Virginia. He was physically close enough to touch, yet emotionally, an ocean of unsaid words stood between them. His eyes darted around the room, landing on the four-poster bed, her porcelain doll, and anything but Virginia’s gaze.

  The silence stretched between them until it was painful, but Virginia refused to speak first. She gave him her undivided attention, waiting patiently.

  He cleared his throat, which led to a slight cough. When it subsided, he said, “Virginia, I do love you. I know that you are of the opinion that my main goal in life is to make you miserable or be rid of you, but it’s not. I want you to be happy and well taken care of. I will not live forever, and I want to die knowing that you are secure with a husband. You can learn to love any decent man, if that is what you seek. I will make sure that you have financial security, which is a blessing many want and do not have. But, who will you have to talk to about life in your old age? I beg you: please put your heart aside for a moment and think with your head.”

  The urge to open her mouth and argue with her father clawed its way through every fiber of her being, demanding release. Mr. Mumford did not strike her as the kind of man who would wish to engage in idle chatter with her either now or in old age. Virginia clamped her mouth shut, gritting her teeth. No matter if she wanted to listen to her father or not, she would be foolish to dismiss his words without thought.

  “Thank you for loving me, Father. I will consider your words.”

  “Good, good,” her father said with a relieved sigh. “If your mother could learn to love me, I know any somewhat decent man can win a woman’s affections.”

  A soft smile played across her father’s face as his mind slipped into a memory of her mother. It was a rare sight for Virginia, to see him show even this bit of emotion.

  “You’re not so bad when you try,” Virginia replied with a teasing grin.

  Her father snorted in return—his way of accepting a compliment. “Mr. Mumford will return in a week. I will not force you to marry him, but please think long and hard about your answer. Also, I plan to place the money he gives me in an account in your name, which you will have immediate access to upon your marriage. I will ask him to sign an antenuptial contract so that all I leave to you upon my death will be yours to control. And even if your future husband is not Mr. Mumford, I will set several thousand dollars of my own money aside for you once you are married so that you can still be your own woman financially.”

  Virginia’s eyebrows rose at that statement. She placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. So much meaning lay between those words. He was giving her the freedom of choice. Even in marriage, she would have the ability to take care of herself and any resulting children. Her husband would never be able to fully control her. It was the greatest gift her father could give her.

  “Thank you.” Virginia rose from her chair and wrapped her arms around her father’s neck. “I love you. That truly means the world to me.”

  “Yes, yes,” her father replied, patting Virginia’s back with stiff, mechanical motions. He allowed the embrace to continue for a few seconds before pulling back and reestablishing the distance between them. The flush on his neck and ears had deepened to a cherry red. “I hope that sentiment lasts after my next announcement.”

  The smile slipped from Virginia’s face, her body going still as she waited for her father to make his announcement.

  His eyes again bounced around the room, not meeting hers. “Although I will allow you the choice of marrying Mr. Mumford or not, I do believe you are in need of a companion. Someone to watch out for you and possibly help to soften your...less ladylike edges. I fear I have done a poor job in that respect.”

  Virginia ran her palms down her skirt, dispelling the rising panic threatening to overtake her. He was giving her a warden, someone to report her every movement back to him. “Someone to make sure I don’t run off and join a group of abolitionists before you can sell me to the highest bidder?” she scoffed.

  “It is either the companion, or never leaving the house without me.”

  “And who might this companion be?” Virginia questioned, caution lacing her every word.

  “Anna, please come in,” her
father called out.

  Virginia’s eyes darted to the bedroom door that still stood ajar. It widened a little more to admit a short cherub of a woman. She bore perfectly pinned, strawberry-blonde curls, pink cheeks that looked as if they’d been dusted with rose petals and stardust, a cute button nose, and a classically stunning, round face. She was so cute Virginia almost forgot she was supposed to be offended by her presence.

  “Greetings. You must be Virginia,” she chirped before dipping into a low curtsey. “My name is Anna, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Your father has told me many wonderful things about you. I am happy to be at your service. This job is a blessing; I was down to my last few coins before I contacted your father.”

  Virginia cursed under her breath. She couldn’t turn the woman away after hearing that. Did her father tell Anna to say that? Would it matter if he did? Anna was so adorable Virginia was already having crazy notions about being friends and sharing secrets over tea. Even her voice sounded like the soothing tinkle of delicate bells.

  “Pleasure to meet you as well,” Virginia replied, holding out her hand.

  Anna looked down at the offered hand, then between Virginia and her father, uncertainty shining in her gaze. Women did not shake hands, a fact that Virginia knew but chose to ignore. This wasn’t a test necessarily, but it would help shape Virginia’s opinion of the other woman.

  Virginia’s father stood in silence, watching the interaction. No doubt he hoped this situation would end with Virginia accepting her new companion with little to no fuss. Whatever it took to make that a reality, he would allow.

  Squaring her shoulders and stiffening her spine, Anna reached out and accepted the offered hand with a smile. The grip was firm; Anna had courage. Virginia liked that. She didn’t return the smile, but her eyes softened on the woman before her.

  “Well, then, what does a companion do, exactly?” Virginia asked.