Perfectly Mismatched (Sweethearts of Jubilee Springs Book 1) Read online

  Once inside the house, she glanced around to get her bearings. From overhead came the sounds of boards squeaking. The other women must be selecting their rooms. To her left an open door displayed a big desk occupying a prominent place in the carpeted room. Probably an office. She stepped to the next doorway and spied a sitting room. The furniture might have been of good quality a decade or so ago, but now the pieces looked a bit worn. Down the hallway were the kitchen and a dining room with a large oval table and eight matching wooden chairs.

  “Miss Northcliffe, will you please join the group?” Missus Millard stood at the top of the servants’ stairs and waved a beckoning hand.

  Aurelia bit back a sigh at the woman’s disapproving expression. She supposed this new venture would involve lots of enforced companionship. Such was her new life.

  *~*

  Following a three-course supper that proved a nice change from train fare, Aurelia carried her empty plate and silverware into the kitchen. She watched the two friends, Catherine and Andrea, settle themselves at the sink to wash and dry the dishes. Never having completed such a task in her life, Aurelia stored away the process in her head. Later in her room, she’d jot down what details she remembered.

  “Ladies, when the dishes are done, please make yourselves comfortable downstairs or in your rooms.” Missus Millard clasped her hands at her waist and bounced as she spoke. “I’ve already given you the rundown of the weekend’s scheduled activities. Tonight, I’ll have a private chat with each of you before we embark on this exciting adventure.” Flashing a bright smile, she glanced around. “Aurelia, please join me in my office.”

  Might as well be the first. Then maybe she’d ask about someone drawing her a bath. Inside the office, she perched on the edge of an upholstered chair opposite the desk. A cursory glance registered filled bookcases, a rose chintz divan, and two lamps with fringed shades on poles.

  “First off, call me Lizett. I like to think, as we go through this experience together, we’ll become friends. Have any issues arisen in your correspondence with…” She reached toward a stack of folders, selected one, and flipped it open. “Ah, yes. Declan MacNeill and Byron Latham. Are you aware of any potential conflicts with either of the men?”

  She has a file on me? Aurelia dug her joined hands into her lap to keep from grabbing the papers. Could the woman have somehow learned about Papa’s disgrace? “No problems have arisen, Lizett.” She chose her words carefully, because she hadn’t exactly corresponded with the gentlemen--she’d dictated while Rilleta scribed. Even though she knew the ad said the bride was to write the letters. But Aurelia had so many details to work out for her and Rilleta’s new life that she hadn’t found sufficient time. She scrambled for something specific Rilleta had read aloud from the men’s letters. “Both sounded kind and considerate, one more…shall I say, worldly than the other.”

  Lizett beamed and folded her hands on top of the folder. “I knew when I saw the big earholes on the ‘e’s’, the rolling waves on the ‘w’s’, and the measured crossbars on the ‘t’s’ that the matches had several points of compatibility.”

  Aurelia sucked in a breath. Is this woman speaking English? But she had to say something. “Oh, I agree.” Guilt crept through her body, making her scoot backward until she encountered the chair back. The strange references must be about the handwriting analysis the woman believed helped her match couples.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  Good, this is almost over. “Only about the intimacy issue. I know husbands can demand their rights to the marital bed, but” Saying the words aloud proved harder than she imagined. Her heartbeat thumped in her ears. She cleared her throat. “Will I, um, will the brides be…”

  A blush flamed in the matchmaker’s cheeks. “Oh no, not right away.” Lizett shuffled papers into a neat stack before she looked up again. “The men have agreed to a month’s waiting period under these circumstances.”

  Aurelia wondered why the subject would disconcert a widow like this. “That’s a relief. I believe that was my only question.” She stood and stepped toward the door. “Who would you like to see next?”

  Lizett glanced at another file folder. “Please send me Catherine, and since the friends are rooming together, you can tell Andrea she’ll follow.”

  For an unexplained reason, Aurelia bobbed a short curtsy and fled the room. She hurried upstairs, tapped on a closed door, and then stuck her head inside. “Your turn, Catherine. Lizett wants to see you in her office, and after, she’ll see Andrea.” She peeked around the door but didn’t see Ellen.

  Cat nodded and walked through the doorway.

  Aurelia thought about going to her own room but noticed Andrea set a chair by the window then sat. The distracted expression reminded her of Rilleta when she worried over a problem. These women might help with interpreting the incomprehensible household management book Aurelia had studied on the train. She walked into the room and sat on the edge of the mattress. Might as well make an effort at being friendly. In all likelihood, Andrea and Catherine would be her future neighbors. “The inquisition isn’t so bad. The graphology business aside, she just wants to get to know us as people by having a face-to-face conversation.” She studied the woman’s plain features. “You don’t joke much, do you?”

  Andrea shook her head and went on to describe her life and where she used to live.

  At the word ‘farm’ Aurelia’s thoughts spun to her own situation. What had been inside Lizett’s folder? Any newspaper clippings? Her hands tightened in her lap. Could a wanted poster have been issued? Maybe someone thought since she could sign bank drafts on Papa’s account that she knew about all his financial dealings. All she knew was she needed to make a new life with a new name. And, most importantly, a new life that guaranteed respectability to give Rilleta the chance for a good marriage, as well.

  “…didn’t have time to exchange letters with any of the men.”

  Hearing Andrea’s admission sent a wave of relief through Aurelia. So I’m not the only one starting from scratch. “What are you wearing to get married? Show me.” When the timid girl mentioned ‘gray’ and ‘linsey-woolsey’ in the same sentence, Aurelia jumped to her feet and paced. Weddings were the most special day in a woman’s life. Unable to keep it in, she let out a sigh. “Well, that will never do.”

  Catherine breezed into the room. “Lizett is ready to see you now, Andrea.”

  Aurelia scurried through the door and across the hall to her room. She needed to sort through her clothes and pick an outfit for tomorrow. Her heart rate gave an anticipatory kick. Tomorrow evening she’d meet her prospective grooms.

  *~*

  The trip from Denver to Jubilee Springs was short and uneventful, except when a woman who laughed like a donkey sat close to their group. Railcars on the Denver and Rio Grande Railroad line were not as spacious, but Aurelia was too aware of growing nervousness to care. When the conductor announced arrival in Jubilee Springs in ten minutes, all the brides scooted to get a view out the closest window.

  Aurelia brushed a hand down the front of her skirt. Her pale green gown of crepe de chine with emerald green swags along the sides accented her creamy skin. That she appeared the best dressed among the group buoyed her spirits. Without consideration of her other attributes, that fact alone would make her stand out, which would have made Papa proud. She let out a sad breath. The thought of her dear father locked up in a dark cell with who knew what class of criminals raised goose flesh over her skin.

  Muted conversation erupted from the other ladies. Probably as excited and nervous inside as the others, she hoped her expression wasn’t as goggle-eyed as a couple of the women. Unable to resist, she stood and braced a hand on the seat back to lean toward the window. Approaching the town across the plains, she expected the roofs of five- and six-story buildings to come into view at any second. Moments passed. Nothing but brown prairie grass. Nerves tickled down her spine. What she remembered from Papa’s discussion of mining towns in the we
st was they were bustling and growing with all the comforts of society. Hadn’t Horace Tabor built an opera house in both Leadville and Denver?

  That’s it? The tempo of the wheel’s clackety-clack slowed, and finally, the town materialized. Sinking onto the bench, she lifted a hand to cover her gaping mouth. The tallest building was a mere two stories and only a few of those existed. The town had no more than five or six streets in either direction. What in heaven’s name had she committed herself to?

  All the women around her spouted excited whispers and giggles.

  Astonishment dulled her senses. Aurelia went through the motions of collecting her shawl and reticule, and then she gathered with Lizett’s group that had grown by the Denver station with the addition of Josephine Jacobs.

  At the perimeter of the wooden depot platform stood men of every shape, age, and size. Their attention was not directed at the disembarking passengers, but at the group of unescorted women.

  Aurelia scanned the faces, wondering if her prospective grooms were present. The importance of making a good match weighed on her thoughts. Not only would the decision affect her, but Rilleta, as well.

  “Hello, ladies.” A tall brown-haired man wearing a wide smile approached. “On behalf of my brother, Clive, and some anxious miners, I say, Welcome to Jubilee Springs. I’m Royce Bainbridge, one of the mine owners and a sponsor of this weekend’s activities. We intend to keep you occupied and look forward to having all of you join our community.”

  Aurelia took in the man’s sturdy physique and respectable tan business suit. Sunlight picked out a bit of reddish tint in his dark hair. Here was a man of substance, and she wondered if her potential matches possessed similar looks.

  Pressing a hand to her bosom, Lizett batted her eyes and grinned. “So nice to finally meet you, Mister Bainbridge. I’m Missus Millard, and these”—she waved with a flourish to include the bridal group—“are my ladies, the prospective brides.”

  Mister Bainbridge lifted a pointed finger and took a head count. “Um, Missus Millard, I don’t see ten brides here. Are some still on the train?”

  The two moved a few feet away to confer, standing with their heads angled toward each other.

  Although she couldn’t hear everything, Aurelia caught enough to know Lizett was providing the same explanation she’d relayed to them over supper the night before. Insufficient time for proper correspondence, bride letters arriving too late for consideration, and the size of the town. If only she’d thought to ask about population in her first letter, she might not be in this situation.

  From the train depot, only a few buildings were visible. The bulk of the town lay across the river. The air had warmed, and Aurelia was glad for her broad-brimmed hat with fashionable fabric roses set at the base of the crown.

  Within a few minutes, the baggage was sorted into a buckboard and dispatched to the boarding house. A second man remained behind to drive a carriage while the mine owner strode to the forward one. The women settled into two surreys with black leather seats.

  Aurelia hurried forward to obtain a seat in the mine owner’s carriage. In her mind, the letter and potential matches were merely a way to get her to Jubilee Springs. Now she needed to act like Papa trained her and position herself just right to be noticed by the real movers and shakers in this mountain hamlet. The banker, who probably was the most important man in town, didn’t appear to be part of the group right now, so she’d settle for the second-best possibility.

  Before the carriages started, Mister Bainbridge, who drove the surrey where Aurelia sat, turned in his seat and spoke in a loud voice. “The town of Jubilee Springs is south of the river. The mine my brother, Clive, and I own and the housing where you will live are north of the river. We will drive towards the trestle bridge by the schoolhouse that crosses over and leads to what will be your new homes. But we won’t go there today. I’ll let your new husbands show you the cabins.” He gave a broad wink. “I’m sure they are looking forward to that.”

  The man’s resounding voice sounded like he had trained for the stage. He made sure to point out the street names and to assure them the town was growing, and even more so with the addition of their lovely selves. His proclamations rang with the sound of a man who took pride in where he lived.

  She leaned way back to get a glimpse of the housing. At the sight of the double row of couples accommodations, Aurelia almost swooned, grabbing the side of the surrey at the last moment to steady herself. The cabins were nothing more than narrow shotgun shacks like the ones that populated the disreputable part of Topeka. Raw lumber, cedar shingles, a single window in the front, and a small porch. Not a rock or bit of masonry added to the design. The servants at Twin Oaks lived in better conditions. She swallowed past a lump in her throat.

  Aurelia was sure Mister Bainbridge performed as an affable host, but she barely heard his comments as he drove the horse team through town and pointed out the various businesses. Hearing the words ‘sheriff’s office’ made her stiffen. She struggled to draw in a breath, her throat tight with concern. The names blurred in her mind, as she struggled to take in the fact that choices of milliners or dressmakers didn’t exist. Only a single establishment providing each service could be seen. How will I manage?

  The mine owner waved an arm toward a two-story building. “Off to our right just as we get started, you will see the River Valley Inn. A dinner and community dance will be held there Saturday night. Every effort has been made for your comfort, which I hope you ladies find enjoyable and helpful to choosing your grooms.”

  Enough shopkeepers came to the doorways and watched that Aurelia felt like a performer being paraded through the streets. The building façades were rustic, some with a false front to appear like a second story. No macadam paved the streets—only hard-packed dirt, and no gaslights lined the boardwalks.

  After that sight, she paid little attention to the man’s speech. What she heard were snippets about bowling lanes, a bath house, blacksmith, and a livery. At the mention of a schoolhouse where her children would attend, she suppressed a shudder. What she needed was to get through the next three days—not think about an event five or six years in the future. Churches—Catholic and Protestant, private homes—big and small, a furniture shop, laundry, a bank, a patriotic hall. None of them mattered. She longed for the security of a locked door so she could succumb to the threatening wave of despair.

  After setting the brake, Royce Bainbridge climbed down to the ground, his actions mimicked by the driver of the second surrey. “For the time being, I’m leaving you, ladies. My man on the buckboard has already delivered your belongings, and your trunks should be in your rooms. Enjoy settling in, and we will see you later after supper.”

  A quick glance at the other ladies’ eager expressions informed her she was the only one in distress about this pitiful town. Across Schoolhouse Road stood a park. What had Mister Bainbridge said? This community park would be the location of the Sunday church picnic and the Monday weddings, followed by the holiday fireworks. In this moment, she didn’t know if she was a good enough actress to hide her gut-wrenching disappointment. Maybe some time alone on a stroll would calm her thoughts. Head lowered, she started toward the shade trees visible in the park.

  Galloping hoof beats pounded the dirt.

  “Oy, lady. Watch out.”

  Strong arms grabbed her from behind, swung her around, and shoved her against the tailgate of the wagon. “Oof.” A muscular body pressed against her, instantly heating the length of her back. Her breath caught in her throat. The sheriff found me. “No. Let me go.” Panic rose from deep inside. Aurelia struggled against the hard grasp by rocking her body then lunged backward, and finally in desperation, she kicked out. And her foot connected with something.

  “Ow. Tarnation, lady.” The stranger released his grip.

  After stumbling a few steps sideways, she whirled and glared. Her hat hung over her right ear at a haphazard angle. “What gave you the right to manhandle me?”

>   “’Tis the thanks I’ll be getting’ fer savin’ yer life?” The tall man with wavy brown hair stood with hands on his hips.

  Oo, the arrogance. Body still thrumming with fright, she moved closer to the brutish man dressed in a dusty shirt of rough denim and even dustier dungarees. The pungent scent of sweat assaulted her nose. With great restraint, she kept from digging into her reticule for a lace handkerchief. “Saving me?” Amusement danced in his lively green eyes, which only kicked up her irritation. “How exactly did you do that?”

  He crossed his arms and looked down his nose. “From being trampled by a runaway horse, sure enough I did. Don’t ye know enough to look both ways before crossing a road?”

  “Aurelia, are you all right?” Lizett stepped close and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Aurelia sucked in a deep breath and nodded, which set her hat flopping. For some reason, she couldn’t tear her gaze from the man with the scruffy beard who watched her with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk twisting his lips. His features were not what one would call classically handsome but were pleasing.

  “Oh, dear, your lovely dress.”

  The distress in Lizett’s voice made Aurelia glance at herself. Dirt handprints marked both sleeves, dust covered several inches of her hem, and a jagged tear ruined one of the flounces. Her stomach clenched, and heat flushed her cheeks. This was a disaster. A Northcliffe simply did not appear in public in anything other than a perfect and dignified state. “You, sir, will pay for this damage.” Notching up her chin, she settled her hat on her head, turned an about-face, and strode toward Howard’s Boarding House. The sooner she gained distance from that arrogant man, the better.

  Chapter Four