Brides of Banff Springs Read online

  Mrs. Nugent threw up her hands as if to fend off Tilly’s objection. “Your room and board is paid for two weeks. That should give you time to get settled into some sort of job.”

  “How? Who paid that?”

  “You worked all day at the barn yesterday, didn’t you?”

  The smile on Mrs. Nugent’s face told Tilly all she needed to know and she smiled back. This, she thought, might have been a moment she could have shared with her own mother. She had been so long with only her father for company she had forgotten how comforting a motherly presence could be. They sat at the table chatting quietly, Tilly sneaking more cookies and making Mrs. Nugent laugh. By the time Ryan came for her, she felt quite at home.

  He arrived in a buggy and drove her out to the hospital. Tilly was too full of grateful wonder to want to talk, and Ryan seemed perfectly at ease with that. He said he’d wait for her, and Tilly climbed up the hospital steps without a backward glance, knowing he would.

  She approached the reception desk and asked if she might see Miss Burma Evans, half expecting to be refused again. To her surprise, she received a beaming smile and directions to Burma’s room. She tapped on the door and was asked to step inside. When she did, the powerful scent of roses almost overcame her. There were seemingly dozens of pink, red, and white blooms. Some were in vases, others in bowls set on the windowsill, and on the top of a dresser set against one wall.

  Burma sat propped up in bed, with piles of white pillows behind her. She had a sticking plaster on her head, her arm in a sling and a big, bright smile on her face.

  “Well, you look much better than I expected you’d be,” Tilly said as she took a chair beside the bed.

  “It’s probably the morphine they gave me.” Burma shrugged and grinned at her. “I honestly don’t feel a thing.”

  “So they’ll keep you in for a few days?”

  “Yes, Papa has insisted.” Burma sank back against her pillows. “You know, Tilly, I so underestimated my father. He knew all along that Freddy was a thief, which was the reason he wanted to deal with all the wedding arrangements himself. That was so he could keep an eye on Freddy and be quite, quite sure of his facts before telling me giving me the choice of going ahead with the wedding, or cancelling it. That was why he wouldn’t talk to me on the phone. For about the first time ever, we had a proper conversation, and I fully admit to having no idea exactly what Papa has always tried to do for me.”

  “But what made your father suspect him?” Tilly still

  “Freddy showed Papa a diamond pin that he said he’d bought for me. But Papa recognized it immediately, as he’d actually had a hand in designing it. You see, Freddy and I had been to a house party back at Easter. The house where it was held was that of Papa’s closest friend and business partner, and the pin had been a gift for his wife. When Papa asked them to check, the pin was not where it should have been.”

  “But what happened to Frederic?” Tilly wanted to know. “If your father knew him to be a thief, why didn’t he just have him arrested?”

  “Papa said there wasn’t enough proof as there were over a hundred guests at that party. Any one of them could have taken it, or given or sold it to Freddy.” Burma shrugged, as if the incident was now of no merit.

  “Do you know where he is now?” Tilly asked.

  Burma shook her head. “He was apparently seen boarding a bus to Calgary. Papa says there is a warrant out for his arrest, so it’s only a matter of time before he’s picked up. I’m told your Mounties always get their man.”

  Tilly laughed. “Yes, that’s true, but I’m so glad you were able to talk to your father. You must have had a lot to catch up on.”

  “Yes, we did. Not that it’s any of your business.” The glint in Burma’s eyes belied her brusque response and she wore an air of smug satisfaction, as if she had a secret but was not quite ready to reveal it.

  The uncomfortable feeling that she’d missed something occurred to Tilly but, before she could ask any questions, the door opened.

  The tall, well dressed, and imposing figure who entered the room almost took her breath away. Without thinking, she stood up, mouth slightly agape. From everything Burma had said, Tilly had imagined a narrow, mean-faced man, not this clear-eyed gray-haired, handsome individual. His clothes were of the best quality, and his jacket had been cut exactly to fit his broad shoulders.

  “Miss McCormack, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand and Tilly took it. It was warm, and firm, and engulfed hers. When she finally plucked up enough courage to look at him, she detected a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “Not quite what you expected?”

  “No, Mr. Evans, you’re not,” she said, lifting her chin. She glanced at Burma who seemed to be enjoying the moment immensely.

  “I told you she was honest, Papa,” she said with a laugh.

  “And that’s a good thing.” Mr. Evans smiled at Tilly. “Please sit down, Miss McCormack, it was not my intention to interrupt your visit.” Tilly sat down again, still a little shocked by this man, who now walked around to the far side of the bed and took his daughter’s hand.

  “I’m very glad you are here, though, as I want to thank you profusely for saving my daughter’s life. Is there, perhaps, something I might do for you in return?”

  “Why, absolutely nothing at all.” Tilly looked at him in astonishment. Rescuing Burma and having her survive was thanks enough.

  “I told you she’d say that, Papa,” Burma said smugly.

  “So do you want to tell her?” Mr. Evans looked at his daughter expectantly.

  “No, but I will ask her.”

  Tilly curled her fingers together nervously. “What are you talking about?”

  A grin split Burma’s face and she looked well pleased with herself. “I talked to Papa about it this afternoon, and I’d like to give you my wedding. Everything has been ordered and paid for. Why not just leave it as it is, instead of having Papa’s secretary cancel everything?”

  Mr. Evans regarded Tilly solemnly. “I think it’s great idea, Miss McCormack. Burma tells me you have no family and, if you should like it, I would be honored to give you away.”

  The blood drained from Tilly’s face, right down to her feet leaving her cold. Burma, looking very pleased with herself, hummed the strains of the wedding march. Then, and much to her chagrin, blood returned to Tilly’s face again, burning her cheeks.

  “I couldn’t,” she gasped.

  “Yes, you could,” Burma said. “You know you’re going to marry Ryan and everything’s arranged. Wedding dress. Bridesmaids. Minister. Reception.” She held up a finger as she listed each item. “Invite who you like.”

  Too stunned to talk, Tilly just sat there as Mr. Evans headed towards the door. “That’s something I’ll leave you two to talk about. Right now, I’m going down to have a word with your young man, Miss McCormack.”

  He left the room and Tilly could do nothing but stare after him.

  “Please close your mouth and say something,” Burma chided her.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Tilly flapped her hands helplessly, overwhelmed by their generosity.

  “Just say yes,” Burma urged her. “It will please Papa and me. You saved me from a fate far worse than either of us could have imagined. We know Frederic framed you when he stole Sylvia’s ring and had it put in your room. I bet you could even get your job back here if you wanted it. But you don’t, do you?”

  Tilly couldn’t find the words to express what she was feeling. There seemed to be none suitable for the occasion and she gulped awkwardly. “The dress,” she finally stammered. “You’re so much slimmer than I am. It wouldn’t fit me, and your wedding day is only a week away.”

  “I was bigger when I had that dress made,” Burma assured her. “It was only all that nonsense with Freddy that made me lose weight. There are seamstresses at the hotel who can fix it. You’ll be fine. Just say yes, Tilly. Please. It would make me so happy.”

  “I would,” Tilly said, “but
I can’t.”

  “Why ever not?” Burma slapped her good hand down on the bed in exasperation.

  “Because,” Tilly wailed, raising tear-filled eyes, “Ryan hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Tilly ran down the hospital steps, trying to compose herself.

  It was all too much. First she lost her job in the worst circumstances. Then she spent the night in a make-shift shelter, hoping to save her friend’s life. Her return to town had been marked with the possibility of a new job and definitely a new home. And now her friend’s dream wedding had been presented to her as a gift of thanks, all to no avail because of the take-charge all-action man waiting for her by the buggy.

  She loved Ryan. She knew it. But she would not be taken for granted.

  ‘I’m going to have to marry you’, he’d said and confirmed that statement with, ‘I still want to marry you’.

  Even Fliss and Burma took it for granted that she would marry him.

  She climbed into the buggy with barely a glance at him and ignored his welcoming grin.

  “Uh-oh,” he kidded as he climbed in beside her. “Am I in trouble?”

  “No.”

  “That means yes.” Ryan took up the reins and slapped the horse into motion. “Tell me what I’ve done to make you look like you’ve got a mouth full of sour suckers.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  Tilly sat and fumed. No matter what she said, Ryan would have an answer or a comeback for her. “If you must know,” she finally said, “Burma and Mr. Evans offered me her wedding. But I couldn’t accept.”

  “Why not?” Ryan almost pulled the horse up in his surprise. “Mr. Evans seemed to think it was a great solution rather than cancelling everything, and what better start could we have?”

  “Everyone seems to have thought of everything,” Tilly snorted, “except for me. I couldn’t accept the gift, Ryan, because, as much as everyone expects it and has taken it for granted that we’d get married, I couldn’t because you haven’t asked me.”

  Ryan did pull up then, right in the middle of the Banff Bridge. He got out of the buggy, went around to Tilly and held out his hand. She hesitated for a moment before she took it and stepped down. He took her other hand and held them both in a firm, warm clasp. Right there, beneath a moon that hung like a wish in the night sky, he went down on one knee.

  “Matilda Margaret McCormack,” he said softly. “You have to know how much I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Oh, Ryan, you silly man,” she whispered as tears of happiness slipped down her cheeks. “Why couldn’t you have done that in the first place? Of course I’ll marry you.”

  He pulled her into his arms and set about kissing her, not with the gentleness of their first, shy kisses, but with demanding delight. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, would have kissed him again but the rumble of the buggy moving caused them to break apart.

  The horse, too close to home and tired of waiting, had taken off. Ryan raced after it and hopped aboard, halting the horse while Tilly, laughing, caught up and clambered onto the seat beside him. She tucked her hand beneath his arm, and dropped her head on his shoulder. Utter happiness made her feel dreamy and as light as air.

  “Will you tell Burma and her father yes tomorrow?” he asked when he dropped her off at the Nugent’s house. “I could never give you such a grand wedding, Tilly, and you deserve it.”

  Smiling up at him, she nodded, kissed him goodnight and then let herself in to the kitchen where Mrs. Nugent sat knitting. She looked up over her half-spectacles and dropped her knitting into her lap.

  “That’s a better face,” she said.

  “Is it right to be this happy?” Tilly asked, hugging herself and spinning around in her delight.

  “Everyone deserves to be happy,” Mrs. Nugent said. “So when’s the wedding to be?”

  “Next Saturday,” Tilly told her. “And I don’t have to do a thing. It’s all arranged.”

  The following week went by in a blur. Ryan took Tilly to introduce her to his family in Canmore, driving them in an automobile loaned by Mr. Brewster for the trip. Tilly went up to the hotel for wedding dress fittings and was treated to lunch by Burma and Mr. Evans. The more she saw of him, the more she liked him. One of the bridesmaids asked if Tilly would prefer to have one of her own friends take her place. The only person Tilly could think of was Fliss, who gratefully declined, preferring to remain in the background.

  The morning of her wedding day, Tilly went up to Burma’s room. She still could not quite believe that it was happening. The bridesmaids had gathered there too, primping hair and polishing nails. Despite only having just met them, they all treated her as one of them. One ran her a bath while another tipped scented bath salts into it. Tilly stepped into the tub, luxuriating in the warm water. At least it wouldn’t be her responsibility to clean it today, she thought. After a long, relaxing soak, she finally stepped out of the tub, and wrapped herself into one of the hotel’s fluffiest robes.

  When she rejoined the group in the lounge, they swept her into the bedroom where they dressed her hair and applied her make-up. Having never worn much before, Tilly didn’t know what to expect, but when she looked into the mirror a stranger looked back at her.

  Her hair had been brushed back and fixed into a crown of curls on top of her head. Her face had been powdered and contoured with rouge to emphasise her cheek bones. Her eyes somehow looked bigger and bluer from the application of violet eye shadow and two coats of black mascara.

  Burma stood behind her and smiled at her reflection.

  “Beautiful,” she murmured. “Just beautiful. And now for your traditional gifts.”

  “What are those?” Tilly looked up, astonished that there could possibly be more.

  “Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue,” the girls chorused.

  “Here’s something old.” Lillian handed her a lace handkerchief. “It’s antique lace from a street market in Marseilles.”

  “And here’s something new.” Frances gave her a little black box and, when Tilly opened it, she cried out in delight at the delicate pale pink pearl earrings laying there. “These are conch pearls, from the Bahamas.”

  Helen stepped up next and handed her a small, silver ring. “This is my own pinky ring for you to borrow. I should wear it on your right hand, and then it won’t get in the way of your engagement ring and wedding band.”

  “And this,” Ruth announced, “fresh from the sauciest lingerie store I could find in Rome, is something blue.” She stretched a bright blue garter and let it go with a suggestive snap. “In ancient Rome, you know, blue was worn by brides as a symbol of love, modesty, and fidelity.”

  Tilly looked at the gifts, knowing they had been intended for Burma but now so willingly given to her. Her heart filled with gratitude and she could not speak.

  “No crying now,” Burma warned her. “We don’t want to have to do your face all over again. Stand up and we’ll help you into your dress.”

  Tilly stepped into the confection of layers of embroidered tulle over a satin underlay and pulled it up, slipping the diamante-studded spaghetti straps over her shoulders. Burma tugged the dress into place before closing the long back zip, which secured the close-fitting bodice in place. She stood to one side as Helen stepped forward to fit a satin band around Tilly’s waist.

  “Oh,” Burma gasped when she saw the final result. “I had this dress modelled on one Ginger Rogers wore in the movie The Gay Divorcee. It is gorgeous. You are gorgeous, Tilly. I just hope I look as good on my wedding day.”

  Tilly slipped the handkerchief beneath her waist band, put the ring on her little finger and finally clipped on the earrings. The garter was already snug about her mid-thigh.

  “And now for the piece de la résistance.” Ruth stood on a step-stool and Tilly’s heart hammered in her chest as the white, lace-edged, veil dropped ove
r her head.

  She held her breath as the filmy tulle cascaded over her shoulders. Ruth tweaked it and fluffed it until, smiling with satisfaction, she nodded approvingly.

  “Come and take a look.” She gently propelled Tilly towards the mirror again. When Tilly finally looked up, could not believe the vision before her.

  She hardly recognized herself, so what would Ryan think of her? Would he see the girl he fell in love with, or this tall, regal stranger? Happiness shone in her eyes. Rose pink lipstick made her mouth look soft and inviting. For a moment Tilly wished her mother and father could see her, but then realized that if she could see a ghost, they must still exist somewhere. The thought comforted her.

  Burma answered a knock on the door, and in came Mr. Evans, as handsome as ever in a gray suit over a white shirt with a white silk bow tie.

  “I take it you’re ready?” He smiled down at her.

  “As I’ll ever be,” she said softly, taking the bouquet of white roses Burma handed her.

  “Good girl,” he said approvingly, and offered her his arm.

  Tilly slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, then looked up at him. “I don’t know how to thank you and Burma for all of this.”

  Mr. Evans patted her hand. “You already did, my dear. I still have my daughter thanks to you. Now, are you ready to meet your groom?”

  Tilly, suddenly a little shy, nodded. She was simply too happy to speak. Feeling as light as air, she walked beside Mr. Evans along the corridor to the stairs. They walked down each flight until the final flight that would take them to the ballroom. Tilly hesitated. Somewhere in her mind a voice said, “You won’t fall”, and she continued confidently down the stairs. People stopped to watch them pass, and then the ballroom doors opened. The strains of the wedding march rang out. Now the moment was here, her heart pounded even more and butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. She drew in a swift breath and then let it out again when she saw Ryan.

  He stood by a bridal arch decorated in white roses at the far end of the ballroom. Billy and Pete stood beside him, all of them scrubbed clean, and dressed in their best suits. A bubble of laughter drove the butterflies away. None of them looked half as comfortable as they did in their work clothes. She clutched Mr. Evans’s arm, grateful for the support, as they drew closer.