Chapter One
OutsideBoston,Massachusetts-May 1877
Their situation had grown dire.
As the reality of the moldy loaf of bread and the notice from the bank next to it on the kitchen table sunk in, Jolie Taylor frowned. There had to be a solution to the problem.
“Oh, there you are!” Mama’s voice sounded from the doorway, and Jolie smiled at the sound. As hungry as she was after a morning of sketching and researching the most unusually marked caterpillar she’d found at the edge of their property, she always had time for her mother.
“I was hoping to prepare a meal for us, but it seems the bread didn’t last.” Jolie didn’t know what she hoped would happen—that Mama would extract some long-forgotten coins from her reticule for more flour or announce their cook was returning and required no pay whatsoever—but she didn’t expect Mama to announce a visitor and usher her into the dusty parlor.
“Jolie, this is Mrs. Milly Crenshaw. Mrs. Crenshaw, this is my only daughter, Jolie Taylor.”
Jolie stood up straight, fighting the urge to smooth her hair or glance down at the state of her skirts. She’d been so busy all morning, she hadn’t given one thought to her appearance. And she certainly hadn’t been prepared to meet a visitor.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Taylor.” Mrs. Crenshaw’s eyes sparkled with warmth, and her smile set Jolie at ease. She grasped Jolie’s hand in hers as if Jolie were her own granddaughter.
“Thank you for paying us a visit,” Jolie said, even though the purpose of Mrs. Crenshaw’s presence was entirely a mystery to her. Mama had a mind like Jolie’s, curious and scientific. Most of their visitors were women of similar personalities, wives of her late father’s colleagues from the university, or independent-minded women who had never married at all.
“I’m afraid all I can offer in the way of refreshments is some water.” Mama sat on the edge of her seat as she spoke, and Jolie detected an uncharacteristic strain in her voice. Despite their lack of funds since her father’s passing, Mama had taken everything in stride. Only recently had Jolie found cause to worry—when there was nothing save for wrinkled potatoes for supper, or when Mama had gratefully accepted a pair of shoes from a neighbor instead of purchasing them new.
“It’s quite all right. I had a hearty luncheon with a friend, and I fear I’ll be neither hungry nor thirsty again until tomorrow.” Mrs. Crenshaw’s friendly manner set Mama at ease, and Jolie decided she liked this new friend of theirs.
Their visitor turned her attention to Jolie, and Jolie found herself sitting up straighter under the woman’s gaze. “Now, Miss Taylor, please tell me about yourself. What sorts of things do you enjoy? Do you have any particular talents?”
What odd questions. Perhaps Mrs. Crenshaw was simply a straightforward person when she wanted to get to know others.
“Well,” Jolie began, clasping her hands in her lap and wishing her skirts weren’t smudged with the charcoal she’d used in her sketching earlier. “I’m partial to science, particularly botany and entomology. Oh, and astronomy! I adore the stars.” Noting the amused expression on Mrs. Crenshaw’s face, Jolie swallowed and rushed to add more suitable hobbies to her list. “I also enjoy reading, arranging flowers, drawing, and needlework. And I’ve recently acquired a talent in baking.” She didn’t add that the latter talent had been learned from necessity.
“You are very accomplished,” Mrs. Crenshaw said, and Mama’s face lit up in joy over the compliment.
“Thank you.” Jolie’s face went warm. Most often, people appeared confused about her love of science, but Mrs. Crenshaw hadn’t batted an eyelash.
“I admit that Jolie’s father and I raised her in a somewhat unorthodox manner, but I ensured she was fully educated in everything a lady should know,” Mama said.
Jolie glanced at her, and then back at Mrs. Crenshaw. She had the sneaking suspicion that she’d missed some important part of this conversation.
“I’m certain you did, and it shows in this fine young woman. Now, I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a few letters with me. Let me find the ones I believe might be best suited to Miss Taylor.” Mrs. Crenshaw opened her reticule and extracted several envelopes. As she flipped through them, Jolie shot a look at her mother.
Mama’s face went pink, and Jolie had the sinking feeling she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. “Are you putting me to work?” She tried to imagine herself toiling in a factory, although Mrs. Crenshaw hardly seemed the sort to run a place such as that.
“Oh, no!” Mama reached over and rested a hand on Jolie’s arm. “I’m securing your future through marriage.”
Jolie blinked at her, uncertain if she’d heard correctly.
“Do you need a moment to discuss this?” Mrs. Crenshaw’s question was directed at Jolie, and despite being taken aback by the purpose of the meeting, Jolie appreciated the woman’s concern for her.
“I . . .” Jolie trailed off as she glanced at her mother, who gave her a desperate, pleading look. Her heart contracted. Mama and Papa had always only ever wanted the best for her. Their situation must be worse than Jolie suspected.
“No decisions need be made today,” Mrs. Crenshaw said gently.
Jolie nodded. She needed time to figure out her own feelings and to talk to Mama, but Mrs. Crenshaw seemed kind enough and Mama had gone to the trouble of arranging this meeting. The least Jolie could do was hear what Mrs. Crenshaw had to offer.
“All right,” she said. “Please go on.”
Mama’s relief was palpable as she sank back slightly against the settee.
“As I surmise your mother didn’t tell you, I operate a small matrimonial agency. I only accept requests from gentlemen of the highest character, and so you may rest assured that any of the prospects I present to you can offer a good life.” She smiled at this.
