Month: July 2016

Christian O’Brian’s answer came five days later, just as Iris found out that she had only two more weeks to stay in her room before Mrs. Norman, the proprietor’s wife, would have to ask her to leave the premises. Mrs. Norman could no longer keep Iris on such a low rent without Mr. Norman noticing. Though Mrs. Norman took care of the business of finding suitable lodgers, it was Mr. Norman who oversaw the bills and transactions, and so far he did not mind. Yet now there was a small family of new arrivals who had asked for a room only the other day, and they were paying a dollar more than Iris, which was no mean rate. Mrs. Norman had looked downcast and not a little embarrassed, but like a character in a play Iris once saw, Mrs. Norman shrugged her round shoulders and said, ‘My hands are tied, Miss Moore, Mr. Norman insists. Two weeks, that’s as far as I can let you stay.’

Iris was pacing the room, hugging her shawl close, grateful her window was due south and thus allowed the sun to warm her for most of the day. It was then when the tan rectangle slid out from under her door and stopped not far away from her feet. She could hear Young Hamish, who was responsible for the mail in the house, walk back down again; Hamish was a quiet boy who luckily never asked any questions. Iris, both relieved and excited by another letter from Mr. O’Brian, quickly opened the envelope and started reading without waiting to sit down.

He wrote that he was glad to know that she was in favor of children, since he could not think of a family without them. He knew that many men would prefer sons to daughters, ‘especially out here’, yet he himself had no particular favor for the children’s sex as long as they were healthy, though he had observed that it was always favorable to have one of both. He was glad to find that they already agreed on one thing (which made Iris smile). He knew it was maybe a little forward of him to be so direct about the circumstances that had begun their correspondence, ‘but I think a sense of modesty, in this case, would be misplaced.’ If his letters had not in fact repulsed her (Iris smiled again), and she thought favourably of the match, he would see to it that his lawyers brought everything to order in the following weeks. If she did not object, he suggested she send him a telegram with a simple ‘Yes’, which he would understand as her acceptance of this clumsy proposal (again, Iris smiled). Since he did not know her circumstances, and would not put her into any uncomfortable position, he had added some money that would cover any means of transport to the nearest office and the fee for the telegram. Surprised, Iris looked into the envelope again and there she saw, between an empty sheet of paper, a bright and fresh twenty dollar bill which made something clutch violently in her middle.

Iris hardly dared touch it, but she did look at it. On the one hand, she felt very uneasy that a man she did not know should send her so much money, but on the other hand, this was to be the man she was to marry, for she had already made up her mind to send ‘Yes’. Iris did not know this until she thought it, but once thought she knew it was true. She would marry Christian O’Brian though all she knew of him were a few letters and a photograph. It was, to her mind, a much better match than following the course of a Mrs. Rose, Mrs. Whitney, or Mrs. Emerson.

The rest of the letter said that Christian O’Brian hoped she did not think him too brash in his actions, and trusted in her sound judgement that she knew he meant nothing more than to clarify an otherwise awkward subject, ‘C. O’Brian’. Iris couldn’t help wonder why he had left out all possible well-wishing, though there was a certain formality to having only his name end the letter. He did write quickly, that she could see, and from his sentences it sounded as if he did not pause and ponder long to write let alone finish a letter. It fit to his directness, and Iris decided to leave it at that.

*

After finishing the letter, Iris found herself starting another until she remembered she was to send a telegram with an acceptance of his ‘clumsy proposal’, which, considering the time of day, she could do right then. Keeping her purse with the twenty dollars tightly in her grip, Iris went to the General Post Office three streetcar stops away, and sent the telegram, blushing when the young telegrapher read the address, saw her ‘Yes’, and smiled widely at her. After paying the tram fare and the fee, Iris found that she still had more than fifteen dollars left. This meant that she could not only extend her rent but also buy more petroleum for her lamp, fill her storage cupboard, and purchase some personal supplies she would be in genuine need of in a few days, though she would be careful not to buy them at Mr. Emerson’s who would inevitably ask questions.

Following through with her errands after another long day at Mr. Emerson’s that following Monday, Iris felt that she was feeling the first effects of her connection to Christian O’Brian. She could not help a murmured thanks when looking to the sky on her way home, since she knew where this particular blessing came from. To think that, if all went well, she would no longer have to stand behind Mr. Emerson’s counter and dash into the storage rooms when he or Carter virtually ordered her to… There would be no more Sunday teas with Mrs. Rose either, whom Iris had started to visit again since Mrs. Rose was after all the only friend she really had; nor would there be any more coaxing letters from Mrs. Whitney, let alone blunt suggestions from Mrs. Emerson… Iris’ relief was beginning to make itself known. If all worked out well, she would soon leave her small room opposite the large Forsythe’s White advertisement and the busy downtown street. She would move away from this teaming city, she would take the train West to the wilds of Washington Territory and live a completely different life with a man by the name of Christian O’Brian. It would be very different from anything she knew, but right then Iris was grateful for anything different from what she knew. A new beginning out West at least meant there would be a genuine end to what she was in now.

Once home, with her ‘Yes’ sent and her future far less grievous than it looked like only a day before, Iris allowed herself to wonder why Christian O’Brian only ever wrote C. She wondered, too, what kind of voice he had and if his manners were well at table. She wondered if he had any family and what his friends were like, and if he had found any in Riverton. She wondered many things, and spent many of her following hours behind Mr. Emerson’s counter wondering about these things and more, which earned her a few sharp remarks, though Iris had stopped caring. Soon she would leave Emerson’s General Goods for good, and start a new life as a respectable woman, though she was careful not to reveal anything until she was absolutely certain that her ‘Yes’ had been favorably received and all had been ‘brought to order’.

*

In the space of three weeks, all was settled very efficiently by Messrs. Sanders & Jones, who asked her to a total of three interviews. Once in their spacious, imposing offices, young Mr. Sanders Jr. (son to the first Sanders of Sanders, Sanders and Jones) and grey-haired Mr. Jones explained the procedures to Iris, which was where she found out that all the fees had already been paid for by Mr. O’Brian, since it was common that the lady in question was of little means. Iris was also surprised to learn that there was a space of three months during which both partners could renounce the connection as long as the marriage had not been consummated. Sanders, Sanders & Jones would write out a letter explaining Iris had worked for three months as Mr. O’Brian’s housekeeper which would keep her name intact, and Iris’ three months of absence vouched for. However, if the marriage was consummated this could no longer be done, since a separation would mean a divorce, which was a completely different legal procedure that could not be supported by the Mountjoy Courtship Agency.

Before the marriage could be completed, though, Iris had to procure two letters of recommendation from married women about her conduct, since she too would receive two letters of recommendation from two married men about Mr. O’Brian’s conduct. Iris had worried about this, but finally asked Mrs. Rose and Mrs. Whitney if they would undertake this task, saying that she wanted to apply for a new place as a tutor and a letter of conduct from a respectable married woman was needed. Mrs. Rose and Mrs. Whitney were glad to do this, though both replied they had rather hoped Iris ‘good news’ was an engagement. Even so, they both wrote glowing letters to Sanders, Sanders & Jones, both in highest approval of Iris’ conscientiousness, tact, thrift, good manners, and Christian upbringing, both praising her as a healthy, pretty young woman, whose presence was a delight to all those who knew her. Iris was very flattered by these recommendations, and duly felt ashamed for having lied to Mrs. Rose and Mrs. Whitney as such. She finally decided that she would explain in full once she was the rightful Mrs. O’Brian.

Iris in turn received two letters from a Mr. Winters of the Seattle Timber Exchange, and a Mr. Lestrange of Lestrange National (San Francisco-Philadelphia), who both said Mr. O’Brian was a successful businessman who had the honourable trait of never breaking his word. He was known to be straightforward, down-to-earth young man, who directed his business responsibly and was not known to act rashly. Both Mr. Winters and Mr. Lestrange wrote that they considered themselves fortunate to count Mr. O’Brian as one of their oldest friends and associates, since they knew no man whose loyalty and dedication was equally unwavering. Messrs. Sanders, Sanders & Jones could not find a better business partner, nor a more honest one. Reading the letters, Iris had to smile at the fact that Mr. O’Brian obviously concealed from his friends what these letters of conduct were for, but even so they portrayed what she already knew: that Christian O’Brian was a man who she could very well see as her husband.

© 2016 threegoodwords

 

More than a week passed before the answering letter came. By the time she saw the envelope lying square on her little room’s floor, Iris was already convinced that her reply had been too short and mean for Mr. O’Brian to answer it. She had been courteous and written to both Kenneth H. Williams and Trevor Bowden, thanking them for their letters, though, regrettably, she could not continue their correspondence since her choice had already been made.

Trevor Bowden wrote again, a letter that arrived by express merely three days after she posted her replies. Mr. Bowden’s second letter was a longer, more passionate one. He proclaimed he had fallen desperately in love with Iris the moment he saw her photograph. He could hardly eat let alone sleep since knowing she existed in the world – ‘I cannot live knowing you live just two days by train away!!’ – and quite nearly begged her to reconsider her choice. It was a sweet letter, never mind its incredible exaggerations (‘My heart bleeds in rivers, Ms Moore!’), repeated vows of undying love (‘God’s truth, I will never love another!’), and multiple exclamation marks (at one point five in a row), all of which had caused some amusement on Iris side and put an end to whatever inclination she might have still had to consider him. Kenneth H. Williams in turn never wrote again, and in his silence Iris thought to detect a certain element of pique, though she told herself she was being silly. It was just as well that he didn’t answer, since that meant she didn’t have to read another conceited letter.

Finally, one Saturday, ten days after she sent out her three replies, Iris returned home in a pensive mood. She had just been to an early afternoon mass where she had supplicated an honest, deeply felt plea to the Lord to help her out of her situation, for now Mrs. Emerson had started talking about some young men as well, young men who apparently inquired after Iris more than once. Much more forthright than Mrs. Rose as she was, Mrs. Emerson was becoming downright pushy. If the Lord, who was almighty, if He could furnish a table before King David’s enemies, could he do the same for her, her current enemy being the painful situation of soon being penniless? With the pittance she earned at Mr. Emerson’s and her diminishing savings, she would probably soon have to follow through with either Mrs. Rose’, Mrs. Whitney’s, or Mrs. Emerson’s plans for her, which Iris thought of with genuine dread. The prospect of spending the rest of her life with one of those eligible young men always made goose bumps sprout on her skin, and never pleasantly.

Seeing the tan rectangle on the wooden floor when she returned from church had felt like an answer to her plea that Saturday, and Iris had opened the letter eagerly, smiling when she read ‘Miss Moore’ in the now familiar quick, though legible hand. It was two pages long and explained the circumstance of Mr. O’Brian’s business, which was both in timber and land, explained the expanse of his house, which sounded spacious and well-thought out, next to a large front and back garden, and even a small cluster of apple trees whose fruit he had been told were very good for making pies and compotes, which was all rather meaningless of course if she did not like apples (this had made Iris smile). He explained the surrounding countryside, which, apart from the growing town of Riverton, was comprised of estates and wildlands, his own house surrounded by neighbours and families who where much in his own trade.

As to the household, there were work-hands and a cook who took care of the bare essentials, but a man in his position could not afford to be a bachelor for long, at least not in this part of the country. Since he did not have the time for adequate courtship, and she, Miss Moore, sounded like a sensible, straightforward woman (which had somehow flattered Iris, though it did sound a little aloof), he thought their chance for happiness was as good as any others. His philosophy on marriage had always been a simple one, meaning that as long as both marriage partners respected each other, nothing could go materially wrong. He hoped he was not mistaken in thinking that this would be the case between them, if Iris consented to be his wife. As for any further knowledge to her character and person, there was one thing he would have liked to know, for she had omitted this in her form: what, by and large, were her thoughts on children? He hoped the letter found her in time, since the Post could be slow this time of the year what with the floods coming in, ‘Yours, C. O’Brian’.

Iris read the letter twice, trying to picture the house, the garden, the apple trees and countryside, looking every now and then at Mr. O’Brian’s photograph, thinking his clear and unadorned words fit very well with the unflinching gaze he directed at the camera. He was not, she felt, someone who spoke for mere speaking and very likely only ever said what he truly meant. His honesty was maybe a little blunt, but better live with an honest man than a charming, deceiving one. She was not unintelligible to the familiar ‘Yours’ either, though it had nothing of Kenneth H. Williams’ expectation of seeing Iris as his wife. Rather, she felt that Christian O’Brian was very simply asking her to marry him, not for romance, and not because he expected her to, but because he needed a sensible housekeeper and thought they had as good a chance as anyone to find felicity in such a connection. It was this frankness that pleased Iris. There would be respect on both sides, that much they both had surmised during their short exchange, and with that in place, a harmonious life was possible. All in all it sounded very promising and Iris was quite ready to consent, if Mr. O’Brian officially asked for her hand. She was surprised and a little mortified, though, to find out she had omitted the Children section in her application form and so immediately sat down to write an answer.

She thanked him for his reply and praised his description of his house, compound and neighbourhood as very vivid, making her curious to see it. Though she did not know how time-consuming timber and land were, she could imagine that it left a man in need to make his living little time for more domestic affairs, and thus understood his more modern means of finding a companion. She too had always believed that respect was essential to matrimony and so far was convinced that this would be the case between them, if the marriage would be agreed upon. She was very sorry if her omission of that particular section in her form had led to any misunderstandings, but she was very fond of children and very definitely wished some of her own. She did not have a preference regarding their sex, since she hoped for one of each, though she would be interested to know if he, Mr. O’Brian, thought otherwise. Finally, Iris could not help add that she was surprised to read that the floods in that part of the country could be so devastating as to halt the entire Post, and wondered if the officials did nothing to overcome this disturbance since it must be detrimental to business transactions if torrents of water kept on carrying off the mail. ‘My warmest regards, Iris Moore.’

© 2016 threegoodwords