The Reluctant Bridegroom (3 page)

“Oh, no, he came back just yesterday.” She put her cloak and hat on and left the shop. Walking briskly along the streets, she paid little heed to the noise and the bustle around her. It had taken her a few weeks to get accustomed to the big city, but Tyler had kept her at such a pace that now she felt at home.

For Rebekah, New York was a tremendous change from the quiet, even pace of her small southern hometown. She had accompanied Tyler everywhere, the two of them laughing over the wave of curiosities that were sweeping the city. They had gone to peep shows, wax figure displays, and dozens of other things. He had practically dragged her to see a “Female Samson,” an Indian woman who, lying down, could support the weight of six men standing on her body. Another time they had viewed a creature that was billed as a “living alligator, four feet long.”

She had quickly discovered that Tyler could not be still. She would have loved to spend quiet evenings at home with him, but he rarely would agree. He was an inveterate gambler,
and Rebekah spent many evenings alone while he pursued cards, billiards and backgammon. Racing meets, horse races, bowling matches, cock fighting—he was interested in all of these. Concerned, Rebekah had asked once, “But, Tyler, you can lose lots of money gambling, can’t you?”

“I don’t lose, sweet—not in the long run.” He had grinned at her, then given her a quick kiss. “I may lose for a time—but my luck always comes along, and I make a killing. Never fails!”

She turned off High Street with all its busy shops into a narrow lane lined on both sides with houses. The July heat had been soaked up by the bricks paving the street, and now they sent up waves that made the straight lines of the houses seem to quiver. As always, she had a quick surge of pride as she turned down the walk to her own house, which was as rigidly rectangular as a barn, without any projecting wings, bow windows, or architectural frills of any kind. Plain as it was, when Tyler had brought her from the hotel after a week and said, “This is your new home, Rebekah!” she had loved it. He had rented it for what seemed to her an astronomical figure, but laughed at her protests. “I’ll have you in a palace one day,” he’d promised.

Before she went inside, Rebekah spoke briefly to Mrs. Vander-Welt, who was working in her flower garden. The high-ceilinged rooms were cool, and she went straight to the large kitchen to put the groceries in the larder. Tyler was still asleep, but he would want a hot breakfast when he awoke. She started to make a fire, but after fashioning a small pile of shavings on the grate of the huge fireplace, she discovered that she had carelessly snuffed all the candles. “Oh, blazes!” she grumbled and rose to get the fire maker. Holding the flint over the lint and wood shavings, she pulled the trigger of the fire maker, which struck the flint, causing a spark to fall. She blew on the smoldering pile until a tiny tongue of white smoke curled up, then burst into flame. Soon the cedar was crackling, releasing a pungent odor.

While she waited for Tyler to awaken, she picked up a book and read at the oak table. It was a book one of Tyler’s friends had loaned him,
The Nun, or the Perjured Beauty,
written by a woman with the unlikely name of Aphra Behn. Rebekah read for ten minutes, then snorted and put it down, “What nonsense!” Reaching into her pocket, she once again pulled out the white envelope that had arrived at the post the day before, and reread the letter inside with a sad smile on her face.

Replacing the envelope into her pocket, she roamed the house restlessly for about an hour longer until it was time to awaken Tyler. He was stretched out on his back, his mouth open, and she had to shake him out of a deep slumber. He groaned, but finally said with some irritation, “All right, Rebekah! I’m up! I’m up!”

“Go shave and I’ll have breakfast all ready by the time you have finished.” She went back and made grits, battered eggs, and bacon. She put a bright yellow tablecloth on the table, then thoughtfully placed a bowl of yellow daisies in the center. Bringing the steaming plates to the table, she set them down and stepped back to admire her work, turning as Tyler came in. “Aren’t the flowers gorgeous?”

“Beautiful,” he said sleepily. “Just like you!” He grinned and came to give her a hug and a kiss. She recognized the smell of his breath—he had already had a drink that morning—but she said nothing. Stepping back, he reached into the pocket of his robe. “Got an anniversary present for you while I was in Boston.”

“Why, our anniversary won’t be until April!”

“This is for our third anniversary, sweet. Three months of gloriously happy married life!”

“You are crazy!” Rebekah smiled, but was pleased. “What is it?”

“You can take it out of my pocket.”

She reached in and felt something with a rough hairy surface about the size of a fist. “What in the world—?” She pulled
it out, then took one look and dropped it with a disgusted cry. “Tyler!”

He gave a whoop of laughter, scooped it up, and held it in one hand. “You don’t like it? But it’s a genuine shrunken human head from Brazil.” He stared at the grisly article, adding, “Look at how perfect the features are! Wonder how they got the skull out?”

“It’s awful!”

His eyes gleamed with humor as he put the head up on the mantel. Turning back to her, he pulled a small box from his other pocket. “Well, you’ve scorned my first gift—maybe this will please you a little more.”

She took the small box, opened it cautiously, then looked up with wide eyes. “Why, Tyler!” She took out the large glittering butterfly shaped pin and stared at it. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful! But you shouldn’t have spent so much!”

“Had a good night at the card table in Boston,” he informed her. Pinning it on, he took her in his arms and kissed her again. His hands moved along her back. “Never thought I’d get so foolish over a Little Puritan Maid.”

That was his pet name for her—ever since they had left Virginia. He had used it on their first night when they stopped at an inn. He had asked for one room, but she had whispered, “Tyler—I can’t stay in the room with you. Not until we’re married!”

He had stared at her with mingled amusement and surprise as if such a thing had never occurred to him—which it had not! “My Little Puritan Maid! We’ll get married soon—but we can’t tonight.”

For the rest of the trip she had steadfastly refused to share a room with him, showing him a side of her character that had brought him up short. When she had agreed to go to New York with him, he had remarked carelessly that they ought to get married—although he had no intention of actually doing so!

He had almost left her, but she was a challenge to him, and
her fresh, delicate beauty had so drawn him that he had not been able to go. Finally, when he took a room in a hotel in New York and she had once more staunchly refused to share it with him, he stormed out angrily, leaving her alone. The next day he returned with a minister and a marriage license.

Now he thought of that with a smile. “It seems we’ve been married forever—but you’re sweeter than ever, my Little Puritan!”

She lifted her face and took his kiss, and she, too, thought of that day when he had come with the minister. She remembered how happy she’d been—Tyler’s careless attitude toward marriage shocked her. Having been reared in a home where adultery was something not even mentioned, Rebekah had never imagined anything but marriage was in store for her. When Tyler had returned with Rev. Lowell Johnson, she was tremendously relieved. Granted, the minister was a little seedy—Tyler explained that the man was just passing through on his way to New England. In any case, he had married them, and from that time on she had surrendered herself to Tyler with a reckless passion that had shocked them both.

Now he kissed her again, drew back and said, “The butterfly? Just a trifle, sweet.” He sat down, and as they ate breakfast, he told her of his trip. He called himself an “importer,” though Rebekah never understood his profession very well. “I buy low and sell high,” he had laughingly explained once as she tried to figure it out. “Things are cheap in the Orient, and they’re expensive here—so I buy there and sell here.”

“It sounds so easy, Tyler,” she had said in a puzzled voice. It all made her somewhat uncomfortable, for she was accustomed to stability. Her own father always went to work at nine and came home at six. His business did not change, and there was a rock-like security to it. But Tyler came and went with baffling irregularity. He would announce at breakfast, “I’m going to Philadelphia, Rebekah. Be back in a couple of days.” At other times he would not work at all for a week,
and the two of them would spend the time going to plays, races, or anything else that took his fancy.

The way they lived troubled her, and he knew it. But he also knew his own nature, and had quickly realized that although Rebekah longed for a world that had rules, he could not give it to her. Instead, he bought her things and kept her in a whirl of activities, hoping to distract her from the situation.

Now as he looked across the table, he saw that the gladness had once again gone out of her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head sadly. “Oh, I got a letter from David yesterday.” Her seventeen-year-old brother had written her several times since she had left. In his first letter he had explained how he knew where to find her:
Father tore your letter up—just as he has done with Louise’s. But I pulled the pieces out of the trash and got your address. Father won’t let your name be spoken, but I still love you, Rebekah.
She had no way to write him, but each time she got a letter, it numbed her spirit.

“No good news, I suppose?” Tyler asked. “Well, he’ll change his mind when I take you back in diamonds.”

“No, he won’t.” The words were stark, and he knew that she was speaking the truth. Not wanting to face it, he restlessly rose and said, “Get dressed, Rebekah. We’ll go to the races—and there’s a new troop of actors in town.” He pulled her to her feet and kissed her gently. He had grown fond of her, and in his own selfish way, he longed to ease her unhappiness.

That week Rebekah had little time to think of home. Tyler moved around New York, spending money as if it were water, despite her protests. “Money is to spend,” he told her. “When this is gone—why, I’ll just make some more! It’s that simple, so let me worry about money and just have a good time! There’s my Little Puritan!”

****

The long, hot summer was rudely evicted in September by fall, and fled so abruptly that the wood-sellers were caught
off guard. The price of firewood shot up as the temperatures went down.

One evening at dinner, Rebekah said, “They brought the firewood today, Tyler, but it cost us dearly.”

When she told him how much she’d had to pay, his face grew livid. “I won’t pay the thieves!” he shouted, cursing as he stalked around the room. “We’ll leave this house—it costs a fortune to keep it up!”

“Oh, I’d hate to leave! We can cut down on expenses—”

“No, we’ve got to move!” he snapped. “We just rattle around in this big barn. I’ve already found us an apartment. Wanted to surprise you,” he said, making an attempt to cover his anger. “I’ve found a nice little place over in the Bowery. You’ll like it—you work yourself to death here.”

“All right, Tyler,” she replied quietly.

They moved the next week. She never let him know how hard it was for her to leave the house, for the apartment was small and in a section of town that was filled with working families—many of them foreigners. Saloons and gambling houses dotted the area, and Rebekah became afraid to go out after dark.

Tyler grew restless, and for the first time since their marriage, he became morose. Many nights he would not come home until almost dawn—and he was drinking far too much. From time to time he would look at her with regret, saying, “This is a rough time for both of us, Rebekah—but I’ll pull out of it. I always have.”

She realized his money problems depressed him, and she asked, “Your business is going badly?”

“Rotten! Never saw anything like it!” He suddenly looked sheepish and bit his lip. “I hate to ask it, Rebekah—but I’m going to have to raise all the money I can for a big deal. I’ll have to pawn your jewelry—just for a few days.”

“Of course,” she said, and got all the pieces he had given her—including the butterfly broach, which she hated to part with.

He took them, and his natural effervescence bubbled up. “Just wait until I get back! I’ll put diamonds on your fingers you won’t believe!”

“Maybe we can save a little,” she smiled. He kissed her, and soon he was gone.

After he had been gone for three days, she ran completely out of cash. She had no money set aside for emergencies like this—Tyler never gave her much money at one time. Now she had no money even for food, and she was beginning to get frightened.

He came back the next day. She heard the door slam, and went to find him standing in the middle of the floor; one look told her that he was in trouble. His clothes were wrinkled and soiled, and his face was a sickly yellow-gray.

“Tyler!” she cried and ran to him, but was repelled by the strong smell of stale tobacco and whiskey. She put her arms around him. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried!”

His red-rimmed eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on her. He licked his lips, and his voice was thick as he answered her. “Got to get some sleep!” Pushing her away, he stumbled to the bedroom where he fell across the bed, instantly asleep.

She undressed him and went out for a walk, knowing from past experience that he would not wake up until the next day. The chilling breeze stiffened her, but she walked for a long time, not knowing what else to do. She had no close friends, nobody to talk to—and she knew she could not approach any of those in their social circle for help.

The sky was gray and stiff; dead stalks were all that remained of the flowers as she walked along the street. The three days she’d spent alone had drained her natural buoyancy, and she dreaded facing Tyler the next day. What she had to say would not be welcome, she knew. For the first time since she’d left her home, she tried to pray, but could not form the words. Returning to the house, she went through Tyler’s clothing and found a few dollars—enough to buy food. She
spent the money carefully, then went back to the apartment to sleep on the couch for the night.