Page 1 of The Preacher's Wife
Chapter One
January 1866, Boston, Massachusetts
Prudence Underwood stared at her father, wondering if his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. His face was a shade of vermillion that reminded her of the dresses worn by the ladies in the finer shops. She glanced out the window and sighed. Fat droplets of rain were coming down, which meant that she would have to endure her father’s fire and brimstone today since he couldn’t go out and preach on the street.
“Papa, you really should sit down,” she called, as he started on another tirade about the people in town. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”
Being an only child of Reverend Dennis Underwood was a lonely business. At twenty-two years old, she was still unmarried and considered an old maid in society’s eyes.
With her father’s fiery opinions and penchant for preachingdoomsday rhetoric, repentance, salvation, and fasting, it was challenging for her to attract potential suitors. Despite being told she was beautiful, no one ever seemed interested in marriage. Since most of the town viewed her with pity or outright rejected her, she didn’t have anyone who could introduce her to a potential husband. The men she met at church viewed her either as a polite acquaintance or with indifference.
As she sat alone at the table, picking at her food, she couldn’t help but wonder if her father’s strict beliefs were to blame for her lack of romantic prospects. She was certain that this was the reason for the decline in attendance at their small congregation. Very few people wanted to be yelled at for several hours on Sunday, and then entertain the Reverend during the week to listen to him pontificate once more. Shuddering at the thought, she wondered if there was any truth to his beliefs as she listened to him desperately clinging to faith amidst fear.
Was it wrong Prudence longed for the evenings when he was having dinner at a parishioner’s house? It was the only quiet time she had. She glanced back at the small foyer where her pa had been pacing just moments before. He was nowhere to be found, and the house was silent.
“Papa?” she called, pushing back from the table.
“Those matchmakers are doing the devil’s handiwork,” the Reverend snarled, entering the dining room. He shook his finger at Prudence. “I’m glad you don’t take part in such nonsense.”
“Have some coffee, Papa.” Prudence walked over to the stove and returned with the coffeepot, filling the empty cups. “I made your eggs just the way you like them.”
“There can be no good to be found in sending young women across the country to marry men they do not know.”
Prudence’s ears perked up. “Is that what they are doing?” Returning the coffeepot to the stove, she took her seat once more.
“I’ll tell you what it is! Greed.”
Feigning interest in the cold scrambled eggs, she looked at her father carefully. She needed information, but she didn’t need to rile him any more than he already was. “I don’t understand, Papa. Don’t the men out there need wives?”
The Reverend’s hand made a loud thud as it hit the table, causing coffee to spill over the brim of his cup. Prudence jumped at the noise.
“Greed and gluttony.” He shoveled a mouthful of eggs and talked at the same time. “These settlers are taking the best of the town and moving it out to a land run by savages and whatnot.”
“Papa--”
“Don’t interrupt me, girl.” He took another bite. “And fornication! People should sanctify marriage. This matchmaker just sends these women out west without the sanctification of marriage.” Shaking his head, he picked up a piece of toast and slathered it with some jam. “It’s the devil’s handiwork, I tell you.”
“I think--”
The Reverend pointed at her with his toast. “You aren’t supposed to think. You should listen to your elders. Respect them. That is why you aren’t married.”
Prudence dropped her head. “Yes, Papa.” Picking up her fork, she moved the eggs around her plate. Movement by the window caught her attention, and she saw a couple walk by together. She couldn’t help but think about the matchmaker in town, who was constantly helping men find suitable wives.
The idea of traveling to far-off places and starting a new life sounded exciting to her. After all, even the Israelites and Jews traveled, as it says in the Bible. How could anyone fault someone for wanting more than what they had now? Prudence’s father, however, would certainly disagree. He believed in staying put and making the best of one’s current situation.
“Aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?”
“Perhaps I’m not as hungry as I thought.” As she spoke, a sudden impact cut her words short. Her head snapped to the side as his hand collided with her face, sending her reeling backwards.
“I’ve told you; we don’t waste food here. Perhaps a day of not eating will cure you of your sinful ways. You can stay in your bedroom and recite Exodus 20 until I return from visiting today.”
Refusing to let him see her cry, she lifted a hand to her stinging cheek and moved past her father to her small bedroom. She took a moment to compose herself before reciting the passage regarding honoring your father and mother, raising her voice as her father’s footsteps passed down the hallway.
As she recited the words from heart, her mind drifted to her father’s words at breakfast. The idea of what a matchmaker accomplished wasn’t completely unfamiliar to her, as she had heard about them before. She’d even written a letter to a matchmaker whose ad she found wrapped around the fish from the docks. Thankfully, the ad was in a portion of the paper that was neither wet nor smelly.
Now she was more determined to mail the letter before Papa found it. If he knew she had written a letter, well, he’d never forgive her. There was no telling what her punishment might be.
She listened for the front door to close before she snuck out of her room and back to the dining room. The dishes were still on the table. She jumped when she saw Papa walk in front of the window, but he didn’t look back. He was too busy moving his lips, probably preparing to minister to whoever’s house he was heading to.
