RNWMP: Bride for Michael (Mail Order Mounties Book 24) Read online

  RNWMP: Bride for Michael

  Mail Order Mounties Book Twenty-Four

  by Amelia C. Adams

  With thanks to my beta readers—Amy, Cissie, Erin, Laurie, Mary, Meisje, Melissa, Renee, Shelby, and Tammy.

  Copyright © 2018 Amelia C. Adams

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Kathryn Wilkes boarded the train and glanced around, looking for a good place to sit. Most of the seats were taken, and the few that remained were across from men of disreputable looks. She was about to ask the conductor if there wasn’t another passenger car when she noticed an older woman sitting alone, and she headed down the aisle in relief.

  “Pardon me,” she said when she drew up alongside the woman. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  “Do I mind? Of course not! I haven’t had anyone to talk to for hours.” The woman gathered her skirts out of the way and made room for Kathryn. “You must sit down and tell me everything about yourself. I’m so bored, I just may start to run up and down this train car in a mad fit.”

  Kathryn didn’t think the older woman looked like the sort to do any such thing, but one never could judge a person based on appearances. “My name is Kathryn Wilkes, and I’m traveling from here in Mundy Falls to Ottawa.”

  “So your journey will only last a few hours. I wish that were true of me—I’ve been on this contraption for what feels like decades. I’m Hazel Hughes, known to my friends as Miss Hazel.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hazel. Why have you been on the train so long?”

  “I’m on my way home from Manitoba.”

  “Oh, my. That is a long trip. What took you out there?”

  The woman settled back in her seat and gave a satisfied grin. “I was delivering brides to their new husbands.”

  Kathryn blinked. “I’m sorry—I don’t understand.”

  “I’m what you might call a matchmaker. I’ve taken it upon myself to serve my beloved Canada by bringing light into the lives of the finest we have to offer, and so I arrange marriages for Mounties.”

  “You do?” That seemed like an unusual, although interesting, choice of career. “How many have you matched up so far?”

  “Well, my own son was the first, and I’m not sure whether or not I should count him.”

  “Of course you should. You matched him up, didn’t you?”

  “I did!” Miss Hazel beamed. “And he never knew what hit him. But it’s like I’ve always said, Mother knows best.”

  Kathryn nodded, although she wondered a bit at that—hadn’t Miss Hazel’s son wanted to get married? “So, including your son, how many?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “That many?”

  “That many.” Miss Hazel gave a decided nod. “And I’ve had a marvelous time, too. I’ve always dreamed of visiting every province in Canada, and so far, I’ve been blessed in that regard. You see, I deliver the girls to their destinations, so I get a bit of fun myself.”

  “Even though the train travel is wearing?”

  “I just consider that one of the hazards of the occupation.” She fixed her bright eyes on Kathryn. “Now, tell me the reason for your journey.”

  “I work as a ladies’ companion, and I’m on my way to a new post in Ottawa.”

  “A ladies’ companion? I’m not sure if that sounds exciting or like a great deal of drudgery.”

  Kathryn laughed. “Depending on the post, it can be either. My previous employer was a younger lady who needed more of a chaperone than anything, but she’s heading off to university, and now I’m going to be working for an elderly lady with failing eyesight. Her letter says that she loves books, so I’ll be expected to read aloud every evening. I love books too, so I think we’ll get along just fine.”

  Miss Hazel tilted her head to the side. “What about your family? Where do they live?”

  Kathryn shrugged. “I was orphaned at fourteen and have made my own way in the world ever since.”

  “Oh, you poor dear. I certainly hope things work out for you in this new post.”

  The train ride was one of the most enjoyable Kathryn had ever taken. Miss Hazel told her hysterical stories about a moose who wandered around town with lacy underthings tangled in his antlers, and how one group of brides tried to hide a cougar cub from their husbands. Kathryn laughed so hard, she had tears in her eyes.

  By the time the train pulled up in Ottawa, Kathryn felt as though she’d made a lifelong friend.

  “I want you to come see me if anything goes wrong with this post,” Miss Hazel said as they waited their turn to exit the train. She pressed a card into Kathryn’s hand. “At the very least, come visit me on your day off.”

  “I will,” Kathryn promised, glad to have a friend in town. She’d been on her own for so long that she was used to being solitary, but when she did find a friend, she treasured them.

  She watched as Miss Hazel bustled off the platform, her skirts swishing, then gave instructions for her trunk to the baggage handler. Then she found a hack and climbed inside, eager and yet also apprehensive to see what her new life would entail.

  As a ladies’ companion, she had done everything from helping her employer dress to cleaning up after a wild night out to chasing away unwanted suitors. She’d plucked chin hairs and darned stockings and polished shoes. One lady had her whisper the names of everyone she spoke with in her ear so she wouldn’t forget who they were. It was definitely not a job for the faint of heart.

  When the driver delivered her to the correct address, she found herself standing in front of a stately home on a tree-lined street. It wasn’t the largest house she’d ever seen, nor was it the smallest. She imagined it had perhaps six bedrooms—nice and spacious. She’d been promised her own suite on the top floor.

  She used the door knocker three times and was greeted by the housekeeper, who ushered her into the parlor. There she found the elderly Mrs. Pratt, sobbing as though her heart was broken.

  “Mrs. Pratt? I’m Kathryn Wilkes,” she said timidly, wondering if she should even be intruding. Perhaps she should go into the hallway until the woman was more herself.

  “Hello,” Mrs. Pratt said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “I’m sorry to receive you this way—I’ve just been in tears for hours now.”

  “What’s the matter?” Kathryn didn’t wait to be invited—she sat next to the woman and patted her hand. “I’m sure we can set it right, whatever it is.”

  “No, we can’t.” Mrs. Pratt sniffed. “It’s my son.”

  Kathryn’s heart sank. Had he been killed in some way? “What happened to him, Mrs. Pratt?”

  “Oh, it’s not what happened to him. It’s what he’s doing to me!” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “I’ve always valued my independence, Miss Wilkes. I’ve always done what I can for myself, no matter what the circumstances. When I began to lose my eyesight, that became even more important to me, but Darrold never could understand that. He thought I should check into a care center of some sort and have nurses wait on me night and day. I’ve gotten along just fine with Matilda, my housekeeper, until just this last month, when my eyes took another turn for the worse. I can make out shapes and shadows, but not much more, and now I can’t even read, so I sent for you through the agency.
And now you’re here, but it’s too late!”

  She burst into tears again, leaving Kathryn to wait for her to calm again, wondering what she meant by it being too late. Once she was able to draw a regular breath, Kathryn asked, “How is it too late, Mrs. Pratt?”

  “My son is insisting that I come live with him, and I can’t bring you or Matilda with me. He says he’ll hire his own staff, thank you very much, and that he can’t afford the wages he knows I’m lavishing on my help. That’s quite ridiculous because I live on the allowance he gives me and he knows how much I spend, but he’s so stubborn. And now you’ve come all this way, and I must send you off again!”

  Kathryn was no stranger to being let go the minute she arrived. For some reason, it had happened several times since she took up this line of work. She could see that Mrs. Pratt was truly devastated, and so of course Kathryn wouldn’t be offended, but it did mean that she’d be looking for another job immediately.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Pratt. I’ll let the agency know, and I’m sure something will turn up.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “I know it will.” Kathryn injected as much positivity into her voice as she could. Chances were, she’d be washing dishes at a restaurant for a week or two until another post was sent her way, but at least she’d eat well in the meantime.

  “Oh, bless you for being so understanding.” Mrs. Pratt reached out a hand, and Kathryn took it. “I’m supposed to be ready to leave a week from Friday. Do you suppose you could help me pack up and set things to rights? I know it’s not what you expected, but your help would be so appreciated.”

  “Of course I will.” Kathryn glanced around. The house was filled with knickknacks and portraits and books. “How much are you taking with you?”

  “Not a great deal. My son plans to sell most of the items in the house. This was all part of his inheritance, you see, and he’s more interested in liquid assets. He’s long claimed that he should have sold the house years ago and given me his spare room—so much less expensive, he says.” She sighed. “He’s so much like his father. I never could help him see the real value of things.”

  “Well, you direct me in what we’re taking and what we’re leaving, and we’ll set everything to rights.” And the next morning, Kathryn would be sending a telegram to the agency to request yet another recommendation. What she wouldn’t give for a post that lasted more than a year.

  ***

  Kathryn checked the address in her hand and knocked on the door. She’d decided to pay a visit to Miss Hazel while she was out sending her telegram. She didn’t know why, but she felt as though the older woman could shed some light on her situation. At the very least, Kathryn knew it would be an entertaining visit.

  Miss Hazel listened to her story and nodded several times. When Kathryn finished, Miss Hazel said, “I wonder if you’d read this aloud for me. I can’t seem to find my reading glasses.” She held out a letter.

  Kathryn took it and smoothed it out. “‘Dear Miss Hazel, it’s been suggested to me that I write a letter to my potential bride so she has a chance to make an informed decision before coming out here to meet me. I’m not entirely sure what to say, so I’ll do my best. My name is Michael Hadderly, and I’m twenty-six years old. I graduated from the academy at the top of my class, although I think that had more to do with my penmanship than with any actual knowledge I might have displayed.’”

  Miss Hazel interrupted her. “Isn’t that nice penmanship?”

  Kathryn nodded. “It’s very nice. Should I keep reading?”

  “Of course. Don’t mind me—I interrupt when I get excited about something. Go on.”

  Kathryn cleared her throat. “‘I have no bad habits that I’m aware of—I don’t smoke, drink, gamble, flirt, cuss, or lie. I might snore, but I’ve lived alone for some time now, so I’m not sure. If I do, I’ll try to stop it at once. I’m an avid reader, I’m dedicated to a fault, and I’m told—probably as a joke—by my fellow Mounties that I’m not half bad to look at. I’m seeking a wife who enjoys conversations, who knows how to cook, can sew on buttons because I’m constantly breaking mine off, and wants to be my companion for life.’”

  Miss Hazel grinned when Kathryn finished the letter. “Doesn’t he have a marvelous sense of humor?”

  “Yes, I believe he does,” Kathryn replied, unsure why it mattered so much to Miss Hazel what she thought about him.

  “And he likes to read,” Miss Hazel went on. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Kathryn now understood. “You want me to marry this Mountie, don’t you?”

  “He sounds perfect for you in so many ways, my dear. Can’t you just sense that, reading this letter?”

  Kathryn didn’t know what to think. “I’ve never been in love,” she replied. “I don’t know what’s perfect and what I should be sensing.”

  “Then leave it to me. Twenty-one happy couples, remember? I arranged every one of them. That’s quite a track record.”

  Kathryn nodded. “But the agency is supposed to be sending me a new posting.”

  “Are you under contract with them, or can you go out on your own?”

  “I’ve outlived the terms of my contract. I can leave any time now.”

  “Splendid.” Miss Hazel looked very pleased with herself. “Don’t you see how this is all falling into place? You’ll help Mrs. Pratt through next weekend, and then you’ll come stay here with me. On Monday morning, I begin training my next group of girls. Today is Saturday, so that gives you nearly a full week to think about it before you come. And did I mention that Michael is stationed on Prince Edward Island? Just think of it—the coast, the waves, boats, lighthouses. Can you imagine a prettier place to live?”

  Kathryn really couldn’t, but marriage? “I’ve gotten so used to being on my own that I’m not sure I’d make a good wife,” she replied. “Even when I’m living in a home with a family, I’ve had to keep a professional distance and not become too involved, and I don’t think I know how to let go of that. Michael doesn’t sound like he wants a distant wife.”

  “No, it sounds like he’s looking for someone warm and caring, and that’s who I see sitting before me,” Miss Hazel said. “While you were telling me about the situation with Mrs. Pratt, you weren’t angry—you were more concerned for her welfare than you were your own, and she’s a practical stranger to you. I imagine you’re the kindest, most thoughtful young woman you can be given your circumstances, and Michael would be a blessed man to marry you.”

  Kathryn looked down at her folded hands. No one had ever said anything so kind to her before. “Thank you,” she murmured. Could someone really feel blessed to have her in their lives? She’d spent so long as the dispensable hired help that it seemed impossible.

  “I know I’ve given you a lot to think about, so I’ll leave you to it and I won’t pester,” Miss Hazel said. “Except there is a time limit. I’ll need your answer by tomorrow night because if you’re not coming, I’ll need to find another bride.”

  “That’s not very much time. Would you be able to find someone?”

  Miss Hazel smiled. “You’d be amazed at how young ladies just seem to fall into my lap when I need them. Sometimes it seems like a miracle—like the bride I found on the train platform as we were leaving this last time. Don’t you worry about it, my dear. Make the decision that’s right for you. Just please make it by tomorrow night.”

  Kathryn thought about that as she walked back to Mrs. Pratt’s. What if she did leave her agency and go to Prince Edward Island to marry this Michael person? She had to admit, she’d wanted to visit the Maritimes ever since reading Anne of Green Gables a few years back. She imagined every girl and young woman in the English-reading world did, for that matter. She had identified with the orphaned Anne in many ways—they’d both lost their parents, they both had red hair, and they both wanted to make the world a better place. But Anne was courageous and daring. Kathryn . . . was not.

  She was a Diana who wanted to be an An
ne.

  When she arrived back at Mrs. Pratt’s, she helped sort through the wedding china that had been in the dining room hutch for over fifty years, and she folded and put away quilts and stacked doilies. Mrs. Pratt would be taking only the things that she had been given or created personally. Everything else, it seemed, was the property of the house, and therefore, belonged to her son, and therefore, would be sold to line his pockets. The whole thing made Kathryn so angry, she was grateful that man wasn’t standing in front of her or she might give him a piece of her mind.

  Or maybe she’d just shake with fury and only decide the perfect thing to say ten minutes after he left. That was much more likely.

  ***

  The next morning, a knock sounded at the door, and a telegram was delivered to Kathryn. She’d had a telephone at her previous employer’s house, but there was none here, so she’d had to rely on what she considered an old-fashioned method of communication.

  The telegram was from her agency, telling her they had no current postings.

  This wasn’t good news.

  She sifted through her options. She had enough money saved for perhaps a month in a boarding house and a train ticket to someplace not terribly far away, and that was the extent of it. She’d needed to have a tooth extracted a few months previously, and that had taken more money than she’d really wanted to spend. It would be rather simple to find a job at a restaurant, but as she considered it, Miss Hazel’s offer popped into her head, and she paused.

  She could marry a Mountie.

  No, that was ridiculous. She couldn’t marry someone she’d never laid eyes on before. This wasn’t as simple as purchasing a hat and then deciding it didn’t suit—a husband was a much more permanent thing to acquire. What if they hated each other? What if they spent every evening in stony silence? At least she’d have time to knit, which was one of her favorite hobbies and something she’d had to put to the side for a while. But could she spend the rest of her life without love?

  She didn’t have love now. How would it be any different?