Bride School: Mary (The Brides of Diamond Springs Ranch 4)

by Bella Bowen

  Mary moved to stand in front of the long mirror and had to look twice to know for certain it wasn't Alexandra Campbell standing there with a freshly reduced bosom.

  “Alexandra.”

  Mary turned to see who had entered the room, but found only Alexandra sitting on the bed behind her.

  “That’s you, my dear. You’re going to have to answer to my name for the rest of the evening. I promise to stay tucked in this room until you return. But you must make an effort to be convincing.”

  Mary took the woman’s hand in both of hers and gave them a squeeze. “I promise, Fairy Godmother.”

  They laughed for a bit, and then Mary took a seat in the chair beside the door to wait for the clock to strike the half hour. All around them, Stoddard house grew eerily quiet, like snow falling in the woods—there were living, breathing things out there, but none of them moved about.

  “Look!” Alexandra moved to the side of the window and Mary joined her there, grateful for anything that might distract her from the twisting of her own stomach. “It is snowing.”

  Mary smiled at the notion that the sound of snow falling had put the thought in her head. She listened closely, trying to hear it again, then laughed when she realized how impossible it was. She was content to stand still and watch the white flakes grow fatter until a hulking carriage rolled into view. Then another.

  Alexandra sighed. “I’m pleased to see Fontaine hasn’t canceled the dance on account of the storm, after all that work on your hair.”

  Mary shook her coiffed head carefully. “I’m certain the storm wouldn’t dare cross the Mighty Fontaine. She’ll give the clouds one sour look and they’ll suck up the snowflakes and flee. We’ll have dry roads if she ordains it.”

  The wide brim of Fontaine’s hat rose in their direction and the pair of them gasped and stepped away from the glass like naughty children. When they giggled, they did so quietly.

  Alexandra helped Mary don her fur-lined cloak of Scottish wool and carefully lifted the hood over the little hat. “Be wary,” she said. “Look straight ahead. If you move your head to either side, the cap will twist your hair loose.

  Mary nodded once.

  “And don’t nod, for heaven’s sake.”

  “All right.”

  “And don’t speak when you’re near Fontaine. Once you’re inside the town hall, you may do as you please.”

  “All right,” she whispered.

  “Load up!” Fontaine’s bellow boomed from the hallway. The woman wouldn’t have dared summon them in such a manner had Mrs. Carnegie been about. But everyone was willing to forgive her, knowing as they did how important it was to Fontaine that things run smoothly. It nearly made Mary feel guilty for the ruse.

  Alexandra gave her a scowl. “I know what you’re thinking, Mary, and you can cease such thoughts this instant. This has nothing to do with you wanting to dance. You’re doing me a grave favor, and that’s the truth of it. Don’t you suffer a moment’s guilt for taking my place. I’m certain Fontaine herself would have agreed, had we explained things to her.”

  Mary was just as certain Alexandra was wrong. With the gunslinger as nervous as a cat, she likely would have locked Mary in a closet and horsewhipped Alexandra all the way to town if she’d had been let in on the plan.

  But it was too late now. There was no going back, not after the Scotswoman had spent so much time on her hair. If Mary tried to renege, no doubt it would be herself being horsewhipped all the way to Sage River, in the snow, and Alexandra wielding the whip.

  No choice now. No sense torturing myself. May as well enjoy it.

  Noting the look on Mary’s face, Alexandra nodded with a smile. “That’s better. Now, Alexandra, you get out there in that carriage and keep your back to Fontaine as much as possible.” She moved to the wall behind the door and gave Mary a wink. “Don’t forget to be home before midnight, my dear, or you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

  Mary didn’t stop to point out that it was the carriage that was supposed to turn back into a pumpkin, not Cinderella.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  No one spoke, no one mentioned the weather as they paraded from the shelter of the gabled porch of Stoddard House to the large, enclosed coaches. Boards had been placed over the wet ground to protect fancy shoes. Braziers loaded with hot coals had been suspended beneath the coach boxes to warm the floors. Large buffalo furs were spread across their laps after three brides filled each seat—there was barely enough room left for air to breathe. But no one would freeze if there was trouble on the road. And either team of six would be able to pull the vehicles out of muddy ruts if necessary.

  A little snow storm wasn’t going to keep Fontaine from fulfilling her duties.

  Mary rode in the second carriage where Minnie, the driver, and Elsa sat up top. While the box bounced and squeaked down the road, Alice and two other brides prattled on about the Christmas traditions observed in their hometowns. Mary, Milly Adair, and Hortense chose to ride in silence. It finally dawned on Mary that all the brides were as nervous as she was, even though none of them were breaking any rules. The chatty ones only proved chattier as time wore on and they got closer to town. However, when the carriage made the right turn that would take them into Sage River, all speaking ceased. Alice didn’t even bother finishing her sentence.

  A handful of people on both sides of the streets paused to wave as they passed. It seemed to remove the strange pall that had settled over them.

  Mary laughed, relieved. “I’m not on my way to a funeral, so I suppose I should stop activing as if I am.”

  “Not unless you’re caught,” Hortense said lightly.

  “It was our choice too.” Alice started rolling the buffalo blanket off her lap. “If Fontaine catches you, Alexandra, we’ll explain to both her and Mrs. Carnegie that we stand by you.”

  Mary smiled. “I’m sure you would. But it’s more likely you’ll be married and gone from Diamond Springs before Mrs. Carnegie returns.”

  “No reason to fret.” Milly Adair leaned across Hortense to pat Mary’s knee. “You won’t be caught. Fontaine is far too busy protecting us to actually watch us. And last week she didn’t come inside for so much as a drink of punch.”

  The carriage finally rolled to a stop and if anything else was said, Mary couldn’t have heard it for the pounding in her ears.

  Unfortunately, Fontaine was the one who opened the door.

  Mary faced forward and prayed the pink lace over the side of her face would keep Fontaine from recognizing her. Alice suddenly stood and blew out the flame of the small lantern above Mary’s head. Fontaine blinked into the shadows and her searching gaze stopped on Milly.

  “Miss Adair, we’ve had to call on Pretty-face again to keep the numbers even. Since you were here last week, I’ll leave it to you to explain to the others before you all go inside.

  Milly put a hand out to stop Fontaine from walking away. “Pretty-face?”

  Fontaine snorted. “John Hermann. The pretty one from last week.”

  “I see.” Milly sounded both pleased and excited by the news. Fontaine rolled her eyes and disappeared.

  Hortense let loose a delighted squeal. “I’d call that providential.”

  Milly nodded, then both of them turned toward Mary.

  “What is it?” Her heart had been racing long before Fontaine opened the carriage door, and she had been so nervous she hadn’t been able to understand the conversation. She was simply delighted Mrs. Carnegie’s watchdog hadn’t felt the need to speak to anyone but Milly. “What is it about this Mr. Hermann?”

  “He’s not frightening. Like Fontaine said, he’s quite handsome. However…” Hortense bit her lip for only a second or two. “Mr. Hermann is not interested in being anyone’s groom. One of Mrs. Carnegie’s customers must have been delayed by the storm, and Mr. Hermann will be filling in. The same happened last week. I thought Mr. Hermann would have left town by now. Back to Boston, I believe.”

  The other three ladies seemed disappoin
ted to hear that the “pretty face” wasn’t in the market for any of them.

  “But you seem so pleased,” Mary pointed out.

  “As you should be.” Milly gathered her skirts and prepared to disembark. “Mr. Hermann won’t be wasting space on our dance cards, so to speak, because he’ll be dancing every dance with you, Alexandra!”

  “Oh?”

  “And our potential husbands will be able to keep their attention where it belongs. You see?” Hortense nodded again. “Providential.”

  The rest of them seemed appeased and one by one, they made their way out the door. It took a moment to find the courage to take that first step, but after Mary found it, there was no stopping her. Surely, with all the talk of Providence in the past few hours, it was destined to be a pleasant evening.

  She was grateful for Elsa’s supportive hand under her elbow as she stepped to the ground. She turned her head away from Fontaine and did her best to mimic the regal walk of Alexandra Campbell. Long, gliding steps took her across the boards and into the large building that glowed warmly from the inside. Elsa followed close on her heels and shut the doors behind them.

  Finally, the moment she’d been waiting for.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The assembly hall was as big as a barn, only it lacked the usual shadows and heavy smells that filled outbuildings. The walls were lined with candles behind glass and the polished wood of those walls shone like wet river rock on a sunny day. In the near corner to her left, musicians plucked their instruments and paid no mind to the mob of women pulling coats off each other. Farther along the wall, a passel of men stood with their backs to the women. They all appeared to be participating in the same conversation, and they were loud enough to drown out the sounds of the musicians testing their tools. After a few minutes passed, it was obvious the men hadn’t realized the women had arrived.

  The clang of a tin cup skittering across the floor brought both music and mouths to a halt.

  Men turned their heads toward the rear of the room where Elsa stooped to pick up the cup she’d dropped. More than a few eyebrows rose at the sight of a woman in chaps. And if her long braid of golden blond didn’t convince them of her Swedish heritage, the lilt in her speech removed all doubt.

  “You know d’rules, yentlemen. If you say or do anything inappropriate, I’m here to see dat you don’t leave this building alive.” She smiled sweetly then. “Fine wid you? Good,” she said, without leaving time to deliberate. “You can dance now.”

  All eyes watched Elsa’s hands come to rest on the handles of her guns. She frowned, then rolled her eyes and nodded toward the women. It made Mary chuckle to see how relieved the men seemed at finding the rest of the women were in skirts. For a dramatic second or two, the opposing parties stared at one another. Then, in a rush, the men hurried forward to apologize to the first female they could reach. As one, the gals took a nervous step back.

  The fellow closest to Mary offered a deep bow to her and Alice.

  “Forgive me, ladies, for missing your entrance. Please allow me to apologize by asking you to dance.” He looked at Alice, then at Mary. “Each in turn, of course.”

  The man was only a few inches taller than Mary. He had to look down at Alice.

  “Alexandra’s dance card is promised to another, sir.” Alice beamed up at him. “But I accept your apology and your invitation, Mr...”

  “Jarvis,” he said. “James Jarvis. I’m to be the new headmaster at the Armherst School in Laramie, Wyoming next fall. And I’m required to marry before I take up my post in April.” He inclined his head to Mary, then scooped up Alice’s hand, and led her away.

  All down the line, others were pairing up and separating themselves. When a kind looking man offered Milly his elbow, Mary worried there was no one left for her. But a glance at the far wall proved her wrong. A lone man met her gaze, gave her a wink, then began weaving his way toward her.

  This has to be Pretty-face.

  Of course, she was no judge of men. She’d only come to town with Pa once or twice a year. And once she’d gotten older, he’d claimed town was too dangerous a place for a soon-to-be woman. After being cooped up on Snowy Range for a good year and a half more, her brother, Fritz, told her about the Bride School. And even after Mary had joined the staff on Mrs. Carnegie’s ranch, she hadn’t been to town more than half a dozen times.

  No. She was no judge of men, or faces. However, if she’d never laid eyes on another man in her life, she would still have known in an instant that the fellow walking toward her was remarkably handsome. His rich brown curls were tucked behind his ears which gave a clear view of light-colored eyes that seemed to see inside her thoughts. A pleasant smile caused dimples that repeated out from his mouth like ripples in a pond.

  Hortense steered herself and her new companion into Pretty-face’s path. Mary wondered if the man was just too handsome for the other woman to resist, no matter if he was looking for a wife or not. But after a short exchange, Pretty-face smiled in Mary’s direction again, nodded to Hortense, then continued on his way.

  Mary didn’t know what she should do with her hands while she waited. In the end, she wove her fingers together and let her arms hang in front of her while she felt the vibration of his steps coming nearer.

  Finally, he stood before her and bowed. “Miss Alexandra Campbell, I presume?” His voice was strangely low, like someone speaking into a deep well, a sound starkly at odds with his lighter, carefree bearing.

  At the sound of someone else’s name on his lips, Mary caught her breath, then forced it out again. “Yes.” She offered her hand.

  He gave it a little squeeze but didn’t bother kissing it as she’d noticed other men doing. She really had no business feeling disappointed. After all, she was there only to dance and buy Alexandra a bit of time, not to be kissed by strange men.

  “John Hermann,” he said with a nod. “I’m happy to hear I won’t be breaking your heart this evening.” He nodded in Hortense’s direction. “Your friend tells me you’re having second thoughts about marrying so young. So maybe you’re wise beyond your years.”

  In her chest, she was gathering a bit of steam for Hortense. It wasn’t her place to tell Mary’s would-be dance partner she was too young to marry. Seventeen was not too young. And it should have been left up to Mary to tell Pretty-face why he was safe to dance with her all evening. In fact, he was looking a tad less handsome if he agreed with Hortense.

  She decided to give him a chance to save her good opinion. “Is that why you’re not looking for a wife? You think you’re too young to marry?”

  He laughed. “No, though I have much to do before I consider marriage. I would hate for a pretty young woman like yourself to give up parties and dances for the sober life of a married woman. At least, not until you want to.”

  She was appeased. But she wondered why she’d been so quick to take offense. Maybe her nerves were still tied in knots from Fontaine sticking her nose in her carriage.

  “You do look a bit younger than the others,” he added, “so it wouldn’t come as any surprise if you’re, what, seventeen?”

  Her mouth dropped open, ready and able to come to her own defense, but the man had guessed her age dead on. She snapped her lips shut and tried to think of some mature response to being called immature, but just then, one of the musicians stepped up on a box and called for everyone’s attention.

  “A little stomping and clapping should get us all warm, don’t you reckon?” The woman then announced a square dance. Mary had already been told each Wednesday evening started with a square dance, though the woman had made it seem like the idea had just occurred to her.

  “Same as last week,” the man mumbled. “Well, since it looks like you’re stuck with me, may as well make the most of it.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him as they lined up to make a square with three other couples.

  From habit and half a year of practicing, her body fell into step. Her partner came and went, came and went, without
any more talking between them. The dance had nearly finished when Mary realized she hadn’t been paying any attention to it at all. She’d been so intent on finding some way to repay an insult to John Hermann that she’d missed that all-important moment when the man had taken her into his arms and twirled her around the room. Though strictly speaking it was more like he’d hooked his elbow in hers and swung her around like a bucket. Allemandes, and dos-à-dos weren’t anything like the romantic images in her dreams, so she found herself setting aside her expectations, vowing to enjoy herself no matter how the evening unfolded.

  There she was, dancing with the most handsome man in the room, and she was as prickly as a pair. Ridiculous.

  The dance ended and they stood facing each other, applauding the musicians and catching their breath. The Christian thing to do, Mary decided, would be to put all her effort in finding something pleasant about the man. The easiest detail to appreciate was his face, of course. His brows were interesting and peaked, like he might think a great deal more than he spoke. There were small lines at the corners of his eyes despite the fact that he was easily the youngest man dancing that night. And those eyes! Except for a boy from her childhood, she’d never seen such bright blue eyes. It seemed odd to find them on a fully grown man. Like cornflowers, they were so mightily blue, and she found they were staring back at her with a strange intensity.

  “What could you be thinking, Miss Campbell?”

  Again, she was caught off guard by being addressed as someone else.

  “I was admiring the blue of your eyes, sir. My father and brothers have brown eyes. All of them. I don’t remember ever seeing a man with blue eyes before. Perhaps I thought a man’s eyes would grow darker with age and wisdom.”

  He laughed. “Touché, Miss Campbell. I believe you’ve put me in my place. I called you young, and you imply I’m short stocked on both age and wisdom.” She shook her head quickly, but he shooed away her denial. “You can’t be earnest, can you? If you’d never seen a man with blue eyes, you must have spent the better part of your life locked in your room. And I thought dark hair and light eyes were common among Scots and Irish.”