Chapter Two
Elizabeth Tandy pushed open the weathered door of Brown’s Foundling Home. Tied back in a loose bun, her blond hair glinted gold in the sunlight. The green of her eyes mirrored the hope she carried for the girls who resided within these walls.
“Good afternoon!” Elizabeth greeted. She brushed off her skirts, stepping further inside.
Mrs. Jackson, the matron who had watched over Amy and the other children, descended the stairs to meet her visitor. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?” she asked, her gaze appraising the well-dressed woman before her.
“Elizabeth Tandy,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m a matchmaker from Beckham. I’ve come with an offer that might interest you and your girls.”
“A matchmaker, you say?” Mrs. Jackson’s brows lifted in curiosity as she led Elizabeth into a modest parlor. “Please, have a seat. How can you help our young women?”
“What I do is match young women up with men in the west to marry. They exchange letters, or sometimes simply one letter and a telegram, and they are off to marry. I’ve been doing this for many years now, and I’ve not matched people who didn’t eventually fall in love. Some take longer than others, but they all get there in the end. The men pay for the women’s fares to the west, so the girls don’t need to worry with that expense.”
“These girls are like my own children,” Mrs. Jackson admitted, taking a chair opposite her guest. “I don’t like the ideaof any of them marrying someone sight unseen. I just don’t think it’s safe.”
Elizabeth folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I find respectable men looking for wives and arrange for them to meet women looking for husbands. It’s about finding compatibility, giving both a chance to choose.”
“Compatibility...” Mrs. Jackson mused. “That sounds reasonable. But these girls, they’re not just names on a list to me. They’re unique, each with dreams and desires.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth assured her, her tone earnest. “It’s not just about marriage—it’s about creating happy homes. It’s a chance for new beginnings. I’ve sent many of my siblings to marry people in the west.”
“New beginnings,” Mrs. Jackson repeated softly. “That’s all any mother wants for her children, isn’t it?”
“Exactly,” Elizabeth replied, a warm smile spreading across her face. “Together, we can give them that chance.”
Through a crack in the kitchen door, Amy’s gaze lingered on the two women conversing in the parlor. The words ‘new beginnings’ and ‘chance for love’ wafted through the air. A spark ignited in Amy’s chest—a flicker of hope that danced in her eyes.
“Marriage...” she whispered to herself. Her heart raced at the thought, her hands pausing while kneading dough.
“Mrs. Tandy?” Amy’s voice quivered slightly as she stepped into the room, her apron dusted with flour. She tucked a loose strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, her posture straightening with resolve.
Elizabeth turned toward her, a question in her green eyes. “Yes, my dear?”
“Um...” A brief hesitation, then Amy’s conviction solidified. “I overheard talk of...matchmaking?”
“That’s right.” Elizabeth’s voice was gentle, inviting.
“Could I...Would it be possible for me to find someone? To have a real family?” Amy asked.
“Oh, my,” Elizabeth replied, tilting her head, considering the young woman before her. “You wish for a husband, then?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amy nodded eagerly. “A home...children.” Her cheeks colored with the admission, but she held Elizabeth’s gaze firmly. “Lots of them.”
“Children are such a blessing,” Elizabeth agreed with a soft laugh. “And you cook, I take it?”
“Best pies in Cheerful,” Amy said with a hint of pride.
“Then we shall see what can be done, Amy. We’ll find you a man who appreciates a good pie as much as a good wife,” Elizabeth promised.
“Thank you, Mrs. Tandy. Thank you so much!” Amy’s face was filled with gratitude. “I’ll have to give notice, of course, so I can come see you in two weeks. Would you mind sharing your address with me?”
Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. “Of course not. I’ll write down my address for you, and you can come any time.” She took the pencil and paper offered by Mrs. Jackson and quickly scrawled her address.
Amy’s heart swelled. She clutched her hands together, the promise of a future painted in her thoughts.
“Thank you, Mrs. Tandy,” Amy breathed out, relief and excitement mingling in her words.
“Call me Elizabeth,” the matchmaker corrected kindly, her tone suggesting the closeness of friends rather than the formality of their current acquaintance.
