Pearl Read online

  Pearl

  Angel Creek Christmas Brides

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Hildie McQueen

  Contents

  Also By Hildie McQueen

  Angel Creek Christmas Brides

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Hildie McQueen

  © Hildie McQueen 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader.

  If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to your retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Also By Hildie McQueen

  Shades of Blue Series

  Big Sky Blue

  A Different Shade of Blue

  The Darkest Blue

  Every Blue Moon

  Blue Horizon

  Montana Blue

  Midnight Blue

  Brides for All Seasons

  Wilhelmina, A Winter Bride

  Aurora, A Romantic Bride

  Lucille, A Lucky Bride

  Esther, An Easter Bride

  Scarlett, A Summer Bride

  Isabel, An Independent Bride

  Christine, A Bride for Christmas

  Sara, A Festive Bride

  Amelia, An Autumn Bride

  Standalone

  Judith of Wyoming

  Nellie’s Notions

  Where the Four Winds Collide

  Westbound Awakening

  Colter Valley

  Angel Creek Christmas Brides

  Charity by Sylvia McDaniel

  Julia by Lily Graison

  Ruby by Hildie McQueen

  Sarah by Peggy McKenzie

  Anna by Everly West

  Caroline by Lily Graison

  Melody by Caroline Clemmons

  Elizabeth by Jo Grafford

  Emma by Peggy McKenzie

  Viola by Cyndi Raye

  Ginger by Sylvia McDaniel

  Chapter 1

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Another cup of tea was pushed into Pearl Jameson’s cold trembling hands. The last one had grown cold while she held it.

  Outside was as dreary as she felt. Rain pelted the glass panes making the scene outside blurry and yet Pearl’s gaze was locked on the street outside.

  Life continued as normal, people heading here and there, umbrellas doing a poor job of keeping them dry. A carriage rode by, the wheels dipping into puddles, the water splashing wildly in all directions.

  Although dreary and dim, the view was full of life and somehow too cheerful in her estimation. Loved one’s death brought a perspective she’d never considered. Resentment and bitterness enveloped her like a heavy sodden cloak.

  She shuddered when a shiver ran down her spine, the touch like that of cold fingers on warm skin. Closing her eyes to gain control, she opened them just as a carriage came to a stop in front of her Aunt Matilda’s townhouse.

  Strange how the smallest of details caught her attention. The swaying movement of the carriage as someone ascended. The prancing of the restless horse that no doubt wished for the dryness of his stall. A man appeared, collar pulled up, his shoulders hunched when he hurried across the street. In his arms, he cradled a brief case that he tried in vain to keep dry.

  “The inspector is here,” her cousin, Melva, said in a dry tone, her gaze moving from the window to Pearl.

  Melva had been sitting next to her, seeming to be as mesmerized by the scene outside as she’d been.

  “Oh dear,” her aunt said with a long sigh. “I suppose it can’t be avoided. Are you prepared darling?” She waited for a response, but Pearl couldn’t draw enough energy to speak.

  “Pearl,” her cousin said nudging her shoulder. “Drink some of the tea, it will help settle your nerves. This is going to be a difficult conversation.”

  Difficult?

  She almost wanted to laugh. Nothing would ever be as “difficult” as her parent’s horrifying death. She’d just lost the two most vibrant wonderful people in her world. Not only had they died in a terrible manner, but now, she was to be questioned about it. Did people actually believe her capable of murder?

  A vile taste in her mouth made her take a sip of the tea.

  Truth be told, there was little that mattered to her. Being sent away to prison or hanging would never be a greater punishment than to hear the two people she loved most in the world being burned alive. There was nothing more horrendous than their screams.

  “Miss Jameson, I am inspector Bowden,” the man’s tone was without inflection. “I must ask you some questions on the matter of your parent’s death.”

  Her aunt hurried in with a tray of tea and biscuits, which made Pearl want to scream. This was not a social call. There was no reason to make the man feel at home.

  Instead, she placed her cup on the table at her elbow and waited for the man to prepare his tea and take a sip and then another.

  “Thank you very much,” he said to her aunt. Once again, his tone was flat. “Now shall we proceed?” He asked as if she had a choice.

  For a moment, Pearl focused on his square fingertips and neatly trimmed nails, as he picked up a pen.

  “Where were you when the fire started?”

  There was no sympathetic apology for her loss, which in a way, Pearl was thankful for. Every time someone expressed how very sorry, they were, anger rose within. Perhaps they cared, or even felt sympathy. In her opinion, no one could ever feel the loss as much as she did. Were they sorry her parents had died or that they could no longer purchase the best baked goods in the area?

  “I was at a meeting,” she replied in a raspy voice. Her throat remained raw from the combination of smoke and screaming.

  “What type of meeting?”

  “Suffrage.”

  His brows came together in disapproval. “What time did you leave this meeting?”

  Remembering the last time she’d been with her parents, brought with it pangs of despair. Pearl had just celebrated her twenty-second birthday. Her parents had insisted on baking cakes for her the entire week. Every morning leading up to the day, a different exquisite creation waited for her on the kitchen table.

  She’d pretended to be annoyed when they’d sang to her that morning, their voices melding beautifully as they’d sang the birthday song. Just before she’d left that last evening, they’d sang once again, ending the song on an exaggerated high note. They’d all laughed and once again she’d pretended annoyance, but she’d loved them more for it.

  How she wished to go back, to bask in their song and warn of what would happen.

  Later that same evening would be a stark contrast to when she’d walked out the door. When heading home from the suffrage meeting, she’d noticed a strange orange glow in the distance. At first, she’d been perplexed and noting it was in the direction of her hom
e. She’d began walking faster and faster, until breaking into a run.

  Upon turning the corner of the street, she lived on, Pearl had been shocked at the sight. The bakery and her home were engulfed in flames. It was a roaring fire. Red and orange flames lapped out of broken windows, smoke billowed from windows on both the first and second floors. Dark grey and black plumes swelled upward, darkening the twilight sky.

  She’d ran to the door and opened it only to be overcome by smoke and heat. Not willing to accept what happened, Pearl had taken a step inside only to stumble backward at the intense heat.

  Choking and coughing, she’d ran to the side of the building and upon grabbing a ladder that her father kept leaning against the building, she attempted to climb up to the second story window. Before she could reach it, an explosion had sent her flailing to the ground. And there on the ground lying in a confused stupor, she listened to her parents’ agonizing screams as they burned to death. Their cries for help were the last things she heard before passing out.

  “Miss?” The inspector’s voice brought her out of her revelry. “Did you climb down the ladder and then move it so they could not escape?”

  Pearl met his gaze. “No. I was trying to get to them when I was blown back and onto the ground.”

  “I see.” He studied her for a long moment. “If you were not inside, why was your face blackened, some of your hair scorched?”

  “I tried to go inside through the first floor...of the bakery. I wanted to save them.” She stopped speaking, not caring if he believed her or not.

  Her aunt took her hand in both of hers. “My niece had no reason to harm my sister and brother in law. For goodness sakes, it was her birthday.”

  “Can you not see she is in shock?” Melva asked, looking as if she were about to cry. “She has barely spoken a word, nor eaten a thing in two days.”

  The inspector’s demeanor didn’t change. “Miss Jameson. Who would have cause to set fire to your parent’s place of business?”

  “No one. No one would dare do it, they were loved by everyone,” her aunt answered even though the question was not directed to her.

  “Miss Jameson?” The inspector said meeting her gaze.

  She considered how to word her reply. “Something must have caught fire in the kitchen.”

  “So, no one that you can recall? Any arguments with customers?”

  If only she’d been more diligent, paid more attention. Her father baked and dealt with the business aspect of things, dealt with local eateries that they provided baked goods for. In the last several years, she and her father worked with customers, her mother concentrating on decorating cakes.

  “No, everyone was kind that I can recall.”

  “What about the people that worked for your father?”

  “There is only John O’Brien and he and father are... were good friends.”

  The Inspector asked her more questions, some seeming variations of the same one. She considered every answer, each time having to search her memory and revisit time with her parents. Each visualization sinking her further into a dark place that she had never known existed.

  Melva plopped down on a chair making Pearl look up from her embroidery. It had been a month since moving in with her relatives and she’d yet to feel comfortable there. It wasn’t that they were not gracious, it was the fact that she’d only lived with her parents her entire life.

  Now at twenty-two, and alone, she finally understood why her mother had been pressuring her to marry. Other than her parent’s savings, which were barely enough to live off of for a few years, she had nothing left. Everything she owned was lost in the fire.

  “Promise to keep a secret?” Melva asked, her lips curving into a gleeful smile.

  Pearl nodded. “Of course.”

  Her cousin looked to the doorway and pulled out neatly folded papers and held them out. “I wrote someone about becoming a governess in Montana. I thought perhaps you can come as well. Look at this.”

  Pearl peered at the papers and took them. “Matrimonial Gazette” was written in bold letters across the top, beneath were pictures of austere looking men with short paragraphs of their wishes and desires in a wife.

  For the first time in a very long time, she chuckled. “Put that away, Aunt Lucy will faint if she sees it.”

  “I am doing it,” Melva jutted out her chin. “I am sure to meet someone while a governess, there are so many men there looking for a wife. I wish to marry and have children.”

  Once again Pearl peered at the papers. “These men are all so far away Melva. Have you considered it? Moving across the country.” She leaned forward to whisper. “The west is so very dangerous.”

  Undeterred, her cousin waved her away when she tried to return it. “It won’t be so scary if you come with me.”

  “Me?” Pearl shook her head. “Oh no. Don’t bring me into this.”

  Melva gave her an impish grin and leaned back studying her. “Thankfully the dreadful investigation has ended. The inspector although reluctant had to admit it had not been possible for you to set the fire.”

  At the reminder, Pearl let out a long breath. “And yet why do I feel so guilty. If I had been home perhaps...”

  “Stop it,” Melva interrupted, “You would have perished with them. I am sure of it. There was no way to get out. The smoke was too thick.”

  Despite the fact her cousin was right, she still wondered. Her bedroom was on the back of the house, she would have had more time to get away. There were so many questions on her mind. Why had her parents not jumped out of the window? Although it was two stories, a broken leg would have been a lesser price to pay. Had they been sleeping and not smelled the smoke?

  “I believe they were overcome by the smoke and became disoriented. The medical journal I read describes it as if drinking too much and unable to make cohesive decisions.” Her cousin said. Melva was much too intelligent for her aspirations. In Pearl’s estimation, she should be a scientist or a doctor, not a wife to some rancher out in Montana.

  However, both her aunt and uncle were staunchly against seeking to further her education. To them the ideal woman was a mother and wife. Someone who’d ensured to keep a proper home and well-fed, clean children.

  “Is that why you wish to leave?” Pearl asked, hoping her aunt was out earshot. “Because you want independence?”

  Melva’s brow crinkled and she pushed her spectacles back on her nose. “I am not sure what you mean. How would marriage be considered independence?”

  “What I mean,” Pearl leaned closer and whispered. “To be away from your parents. The marriage itself would be a decision made on your own terms.”

  “Ah.” Melva replied, not really answering. “Come with me to Montana. Find one you like and write to him. We can pick the same town.”

  Knowing that her cousin would not let the subject drop, Pearl looked to the papers on her lap. “I will look at it. But I cannot make any promises.”

  “We can go to the meeting tomorrow evening and spend time discussing this.”

  Her aunt Matilda walked in, her starched apron crisp and without a speck of food on it. Pearl could never figure out how she could produce such elaborate meals without getting it dirty.

  “I have placed the Cornish hens into the oven. The kitchen is available for you two now.” Her sharp gaze went to the papers in Pearl’s lap and she fought not to hide them. Thankfully, Melva distracted her.

  “I am making a lemon cake,” her cousin announced.

  Aunt Matilda’s lips curved. “A great choice of flavor to follow the hens.” She looked to Pearl. “What side dish will you be gracing the table with?”

  “Roasted potatoes.” Pearl had no desire to be creative, to concentrate on such frivolities. Her sorrow remained too raw.

  Her aunt looked at her for a long moment. “That is wonderful dear.”

  It was hard to look at her aunt, she looked so much like her mother. Same gray streaks framing her olive toned face which showcased ey
es that were exactly like her mother’s. Dark brown with a slight lift upward at the corners. Pearl knew hers were the same shape, but that was where the similarities ended. She’d taken after her Irish father, with fair complexion and a riot of curly hair. Thankfully, her mother’s coloring had given her hair an auburn tone which was much better than her father’s bright red hair.

  When they stood, her aunt gave them a stern look. “I’d prefer it if you two would find a different hobby to occupy your time. Women’s suffrage is something that we should not concern ourselves with. Officials are taking notice and I doubt with such negative attention, you will be able to find suitable husbands.”

  Melva let out a huff. “Honestly mother, if a man does not support my need to be part of the decision making when it comes to things that affect my life, then I prefer not to marry him.”

  When her aunt turned an alarming shade of red and her mouth fell open, Melva leaned close. “Did you swallow something mother?”

  Pearl wasn’t sure if her cough covered up the chuckle, so she hurried to the kitchen. Perhaps it would be best to go west with Melva, else she gave her mother a heart attack.

  Lying in bed that night, she couldn’t help but peruse the ads in the Matrimonial Gazette. Admittedly, it was most interesting.

  The ads were strikingly similar. Most men sought wives who could cook and were of pleasant personality. As for the men, there was a myriad of professions, from shop owners to ranchers, shoemakers to farmers. Melva had circled the ones from a place named Angel Creek, where she planned to work as governess.

  There were quite a few who had children, which made her wonder if the women left or died in some horrible fashion. As she studied the faces in the pictures, it was hard to tell what they really looked like. The black and white depictions were grainy and out of focus.