Brides of Banff Springs Page 6

  “Oh, that Fliss girl must have been talking.” Burma shrugged. “One has to suppose that staff will chatter.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Tilly put her hands into her own pockets. The sun was already sliding down the sky into evening and the bulk of the hillside behind them cast its shadow across the river. The dampness in the air began to chill her.

  Burma shrugged again. “If one has someone to talk to, I suppose.”

  “But I thought you were here with your fiancée. Don’t you talk to him?” Tilly blurted out the words before she considered what their impact may be.

  “That was the plan, but I’ve hardly seen Frederic since we arrived.” Burma kicked moodily at a pebble. Tilly’s instincts told her the girl was deeply unhappy. “You see, he brought a couple of his friends with him, which was the last thing I expected. They’re either off playing golf or going climbing and tonight, when I thought we might at least have dinner together, he’d arranged to play in a water-polo tournament. I watched it for a bit, but it’s not really my idea of entertainment.”

  “But there must be several ladies that you could become friendly with.”

  “Yes, if I wanted to play tennis, or swim, or trail ride. I ask you, have you seen the nags they provide for that? I wouldn’t give you a thank you for any one of them.”

  “Maybe,” Tilly said slowly, remembering what Ryan had told her and considering her words carefully, “they are chosen for being the most suitable horses for the job.”

  “I should have insisted that I bring my own horses with me,” Burma continued without giving any indication that she had heard Tilly. “My trainer says it is too long a trip for highly strung thoroughbreds, but at least I would be suitably mounted.”

  “Um, pardon me, but I understood that you live in New York City. Where can you keep horses there?”

  Burma threw back her head and laughed out loud. “Oh, you ninny. I don’t keep my horses there. We have a farm near Albany.”

  A long time had passed since Tilly sat with her father in their kitchen, poring over an atlas, both of them searching for answers to questions posed by her mother. After a moment of search her memory, she recalled certain maps and the place names dotted over them.

  “That’s in upstate New York, isn’t it?”

  One of Burma’s elegant eyebrows crept upwards. “I’m surprised you knew that.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  The two girls glared at each other, one indignant and the other suddenly defensive.

  “Why would it surprise you that I knew where Albany was?” Tilly demanded. “Do you think that because I am a chambermaid, I am uneducated and ignorant?”

  “In my experience the two frequently go hand in hand.”

  “Oh, really? And just how many chambermaids do you actually know?” Tilly pulled her hands out of her pockets and fisted them on her hips.

  “Well, now I come to think of it,” Burma drawled, “I don’t actually know any. Why would I?”

  “Because it suits you not to know that these are people just like you except for their circumstances?” Tilly suggested. “They can be happy, they can bleed, they can be hurt when their boyfriends don’t take them to dinner. Sound familiar?”

  “My goodness, aren’t you the little spitfire.” Burma took a step back and looked Tilly up and down. “No one speaks to me like that. I shall have to report you to your supervisor.”

  The threat had the effect of cooling Tilly’s temper, but only slightly. “Do what you like. I’m sure you always do.”

  Silence fell between the two of them and Tilly shivered. Arguing with Burma Evans had not been on her agenda, nor did she feel that an apology was in order. Burma had insulted her, not the other way around. Yet Burma had not rushed off in a high dudgeon at Tilly’s outburst. Rather, she seemed not to want to leave and Tilly suddenly found herself feeling rather sorry for the girl.

  “Do you want to stay here, or walk back up to the hotel with me?” she asked.

  “Would you mind very much if I walked with you?” The tone in Burma’s voice told Tilly that was as much of an apology as she was likely to get.

  “Come on.” Tilly clambered over some driftwood up to the pathway. “Why don’t we stop into Sam’s and have a coffee to get warm?”

  “I’d like that.” There was a note of relief in Burma’s reply. “Can we start again?”

  “Start what again?” Already striding up the hill, Tilly turned and looked back at Burma’s disconsolate figure.

  “Being friends?”

  Tilly looked beyond the expensive clothes and the girl’s finely drawn features. The world of hurt in Burma’s anxious eyes touched her more deeply than she had been prepared for.

  “On one condition,” she said.

  “Which is?”

  That eyebrow lofted upwards again and Tilly decided it was a trick she would have to learn.

  “Just be real with me,” she said. “Don’t put on airs and graces, don’t take me for a fool, and I promise not to lose my temper with you again.”

  “My goodness, Tilly.” Burma stared at her as if astonished. “If you think that was losing your temper, just wait until you see me lose mine.”

  Tilly couldn’t help but laugh, yet beneath her apparent light heartedness there lurked an uncomfortable thought.

  What if Burma did complain to Miss Richards? And if she did, what might the result of that complaint be?

  Chapter Ten

  Tilly brushed all her doubts aside as they walked into Sam’s. The first person she spotted was Fliss, sitting with Saul and another bellhop whose name she didn’t know. The look of astonishment that settled on Fliss’ face when she saw Burma almost made Tilly laugh.

  “Shall we join my friends, or would you prefer to sit at another table?” she asked, not sure if Burma would be offended by the invitation or even inclined to socialize with other members of staff from the hotel.

  “Would they mind, do you think?” Burma almost looked wistful as she looked at the group.

  In answer, Tilly smiled and led the way. She grabbed a spare chair from another table and set it down for Burma, then took her own seat, making sure that she could see both the bar and the door from where she sat. Ryan wasn’t there but, if he did come in, she would not fail to see him.

  She quickly made the introductions and learned that Jimmy Williams was as much a protégé to Saul as she was to Fliss. Jimmy had the advantage of having worked at The Palliser Hotel in Calgary and had decided, he said, to work his way out to the west coast as he had a hankering to see the ocean. Fliss remained unusually quiet while both Saul and Jimmy quickly became engaged in conversation with Burma about her traveling experiences.

  Her eyes began to sparkle with pleasure as she talked and Tilly sat back. Apart from her train trip from Medicine Hat, she had no similar experiences to share and simply listened while the chatter flowed over and around her.

  Fliss nudged her surreptitiously and muttered, “Why did you bring her?”

  It was a question that Tilly could not immediately answer because a familiar prickle at the back of her neck silenced her.

  Frederic Vanderoosten had entered the bar and was walking towards them. His khaki-colored slacks, navy blazer and knotted silk cravat about his neck looked elegant and expensive. His hair, slicked back from his unlined forehead, shone with a liberal application of brilliantine. The popular style did nothing to conceal the look of arrogant indifference on his lean, clean-shaven face. His eyes narrowed as he came closer, changing his expression to one Tilly recognized as mean displeasure. As he came up beside Burma he placed his hand on her shoulder.

  It could have been a friendly gesture of greeting, or it could have been a silent notice to Saul and Jimmy that Burma was spoken for. Either option should not have produced the flicker of pain in her eyes that made Tilly glance at Frederic’s hand.

  She saw immediately that his fingers had tightened their grip and knew that the pressure on Burma’s sh
oulder, even through the protection her coat afforded, must be fierce.

  “Hello, muffin.” he drawled. “Slumming it, are we?”

  He swept a scornful gaze over the group. No one spoke. Tilly glanced quickly to her right. Fliss picked at the edge of the table. Next to her, Jimmy gripped his long-neck more tightly. Across the table, Saul set his mouth in a tight line. To her dismay she found that her own mouth had turned to sawdust. She swallowed hard and looked directly at Frederic.

  “Good evening, Mr. Vanderoosten,” she said as calmly as she could. “Perhaps you would like to pull up a chair and join us?”

  The shocked silence around her was broken, as she had hoped and prayed it would, by Frederic’s burst of incredulous laughter.

  “You may be a real cute patootie, but no thanks. I’ve bigger fish to fry.” He gave Burma’s shoulder a shake. “When you’re ready to rise back up to your own level, I’ll be over there with Jeremy.”

  Burma said nothing but simply nodded her head. When Frederic left them, she cast a nervous glance around the table, her face flushed with embarrassment.

  “Will you believe that I am sorry for that?” she said softly.

  Tilly reached over and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.

  “Are you really going to marry that sap?” Fliss asked in a hard voice loaded with disbelief.

  “Fliss,” Tilly hissed. “That’s none of your business.”

  Burma pushed her chair back and stood up. The hurt that Tilly had previously seen in her eyes hovered there again, but she smiled and thanked them for their company.

  Saul got to his feet and said, “Anytime, Miss Evans.”

  Burma turned and walked away, not to join her fiancée and his friend, but to the door.

  “Well,” Fliss breathed. “What do you make of that?”

  “All is not well in wonderland, that’s for sure,” Saul said as he sat down. “And you girls watch yourself if Vanderoosten’s around. I wouldn’t trust him an inch.”

  Although he spoke to both of them, Tilly was well aware that Saul had looked directly at Fliss as he issued his warning.

  “So what’s the scuttlebutt on this wedding?” Jimmy asked.

  “Supposedly at the end of August.” Fliss smiled and her eyes lit up at the prospect of the event. “They’ve invited two hundred guests. It’s going to be a huge affair.”

  “Are they all staying at the Banff Springs?” Tilly pictured the hotel’s walls bulging outwards and stifled a burst of amusement.

  Fliss shrugged. “I suppose so. Burma’s father has organized it all as far as I know, even down to ordering fresh caviar, shrimp cocktails, noisette of lamb Rossini, cold meats and salads and several desserts for the wedding luncheon.”

  “What the heck is noisette of lamb Rossini?” Jimmy scrunched up his nose and made a face.

  “Noisette of lamb is a boneless lamb chop and the Rossini is a sauce made with spices, brandy and red wine,” Saul explained.

  “What’s wrong with a plain ‘ol lamb chop?” Jimmy asked.

  “Never mind that,” Fliss interrupted, “how did you know what this noisette thingy is, Saul?”

  “I’ve always checked the menus wherever I’ve worked,” Saul said with a grin. “Then if a guest asks what’s good in the dining room I can give some sort of an answer rather than appear ignorant. The more you know about the hotels you work in, the more information you have to offer guests so the happier they will be with you. That often turns into a good tip. So take notice, young Jimmy.”

  His remark seemed to emulate Ryan’s philosophy. A pang of loneliness lodged itself in her breast and Tilly realized that she had missed his company this evening. He had readily explained his absences as being due to taking out parties of horseback riders on the trails or overnight camping trips. On one occasion he had been gone for a whole week with a party of photographers. She wished that he had as regular a schedule as she did so that she could spend more time with him. When she finished her ruminations and looked up, both Saul and Fliss were eyeing her with amusement.

  “Where did your thoughts go rambling?” Saul asked her with a grin.

  Fliss propped her elbows on the table, wove her fingers together and rested her chin on them. She fluttered her eyelashes and sighed, “Oh, Ryan.”

  Tilly knocked one of her elbows off the table and Fliss broke into a fit of giggles.

  “Who’s Ryan?” Jimmy asked.

  “Tilly’s boyfriend,” Fliss told him as she went into another round of giggles.

  “I don’t know what’s so funny.” Tilly could not imagine what she had said or done to amuse them, for even Saul and Jimmy were grinning now.

  “Your face.” Fliss wiped away her tears of laughter. “Tilly, I swear I’ve never known anyone as easy to read as you. Whether you approve or disapprove, are happy or sad, it’s as plain as a newspaper headline what you’re thinking.”

  “All right. Tell me what I’m thinking now,” Tilly challenged.

  Fliss shook her head. “Not now you are in control of yourself. It’s when you’re not thinking that you show your thoughts.”

  “Well, she kept her thoughts to herself when she asked Vanderoosten to join us.” Saul raised his glass to her. “I’ve never seen such a poker face. You shocked him, too, but better watch your back now, Tilly. He doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type.”

  The same conclusion had occurred to her, and Tilly couldn’t help thinking of what might come of it as she and Fliss walked back to their room. Nor could she stop thinking about Burma. Her first impressions of her had been of a spoilt but self-assured socialite. Now, having seen her literally in Frederic Vanderoosten’s grip, Tilly brooded on the real nature of their relationship and couldn’t shake off her persistent notion that something was wrong.

  Fliss suddenly linked their arms and gave Tilly a shake. “All right, missy. Out with it. What’s bothering you about Burma?”

  “Oh, good Lord.” Tilly rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It’s just that…oh, I don’t know, Fliss. Burma’s just not as happy as a girl about to be married should be. I mean, look at it. Who wouldn’t be happy getting married in a hotel like the Banff Springs? I can’t imagine anything I would like better.”

  “But maybe,” Fliss offered, “she didn’t want to get married here. What if she wanted to get married in New York? What if she wanted to organize everything herself instead of having her father stage manage it? And what if Frederic is not the man she wants to marry?”

  “That’s an awful lot of ‘what ifs’, Fliss and,” another thought struck Tilly, “have you noticed her wearing an engagement ring at all? I haven’t.”

  “Maybe it’s a hugely expensive pink diamond and stored in the hotel safe.” Fliss yawned. “I don’t know, Tilly, and to be honest with you, I really don’t care.”

  Tilly couldn’t blame her. She had her own problems to contend with, and nothing either of them could say or do would likely help Burma.

  Despite the unresolved problems rattling around in her mind Tilly found that, once she settled down in bed, her thoughts returned to the time she had spent that day with Ryan.

  She had enjoyed it so much. His easy smile and the twinkle in his eye when he looked at her made her feel special. His interest and enthusiasm for the people and events that had contributed to Banff’s growth wasn’t just to impress visitors, it was very real to him. Most of all she liked that she could trust him.

  A smile played across her mouth as she drifted into sleep. She was more than half way to loving him but she would not be taken for granted.

  If Ryan Blake wanted her to be his wife, he would have to ask her to marry him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tilly fixed her cap and smoothed her apron before pushing the service cart out into the hall. She hummed softly as she started her day. Yesterday evening Miss Burma Evans had shown a softer, more vulnerable side, one that Tilly had never suspected might exist. The thought that something was very wrong still troubled her as she knoc
ked on Burma’s door.

  “Housekeeping, Miss Evans,” she called, and waited.

  A sound, as if something had fallen, or been pushed over, came faintly through the door. Tilly checked the door handle. No ‘Do Not Disturb’ notice had been hung there. She knocked again.

  “In.” The short instruction to enter gave her an indication of Burma’s mood this morning.

  She quickly selected the linens and towels she required, opened the door and walked in but faltered when she set eyes on the occupant.

  Burma, swathed in her scarlet robe, had her hair tucked up into a matching turban. From the diamante pin clipped to its centre point a feather, matching those trimming the robe, swept back over her head. The effect was decidedly dramatic, but it was the large dark glasses covering half of her face that captured Tilly’s attention.

  “Do not say a word,” Burma instructed in a voice so brittle Tilly expected the words to shatter into tiny pieces on the floor.

  “O-of course not,” she stammered and hurried into the bedroom.

  All her fears concerning the other girl came flooding back as she went to the bed. The pillows were in a haphazard heap against the headboard. The turquoise comforter and rumpled sheets trailed in a tangled mess onto the floor. The stale smell of cigarette smoke made her wrinkle her nose and drew her attention to the ashtray, full to overflowing, on the nightstand. She frowned. She knew Burma favored Lucky Strikes, which she smoked infrequently and always fitted into an elegant cigarette holder. The debris in the ashtray contained two different brands of cigarettes, with no cigarette holder in sight.

  Tilly stripped the bed and quickly remade it. It was no concern of hers what might have occurred here last night, and yet she still could not shake the feeling that Burma was in real trouble. She hurried through cleaning the rest of the suite while Burma stared moodily out of the window.

  “Is there anything else, Miss Evans?” Tilly asked when she had done.