An Unconventional Bride For The Rancher (Historical Western Romance)

by Cassidy Hanton

  "I think that one looks beautiful on you," her father replied.

  Beatrice smiled in return, sending him a kiss. "Then I shall leave it on, for you," she replied.

  While she descended, he placed her kiss over his heart and bowed ever so slightly. That was something they did from time to time, ever since she was a little girl.

  She really loved her father dearly and with all her heart. Beatrice couldn't fathom she could ever love another man in the future with the same intensity. Even though she secretly hoped she would. She loved her mother as well, but it was a slightly different thing.

  Overall, she loved her life very much. But in the quiet of her bedroom, she sometimes wished it was a bit more adventurous.

  * * *

  The moment the three of them stepped outside and started walking a short distance toward their carriage, a maid appeared in front of Beatrice, startling her.

  "Good evenin', Miss," she curtsied. The maid looked a bit flushed as if embarrassed to be there, tightly wrapped inside her shawl.

  "Mary-Luce," Beatrice recognized her immediately. "Is everything all right?"

  Mary-Luce was a maid of her dear friend Marigold Thompson.

  The maid started nodding vigorously. "Oh, yes, Miss, but Mistress told me to give you this." She presented Beatrice with a personally written note.

  Her father looked at her with interest and slight amusement as she read the note.

  Marigold asked her to come to her house at once. I can't excuse myself now, Beatrice thought to herself in exasperation.

  Beatrice paused before replying, "Tell your Miss that I cannot comply with her request at the moment. But I will make sure to call on her tomorrow."

  Mary-Luce looked like she wanted to say something in return and Beatrice understood why. Marigold could be quite tenacious at times.

  Still, this was pretty out of character, even for her, which made Beatrice slightly worried about her friend. Did something happen? she had to wonder.

  "What is it, my dear?" Her father wanted to know.

  "Oh, nothing, Marigold just wants to see me."

  "It's quite all right, my dear, you can go."

  "Benjamin!" her mother protested, but Beatrice was focused on her father.

  Beatrice looked into her father’s eyes. "Are you sure?"

  And he smiled at her. "Of course! Go and take care of your friend," he encouraged.

  "But what about the play?"

  He just waved with his hand as if that was of no concern to him. "Go and see Marigold. You can join us later."

  Beatrice liked that idea very much. "All right, Daddy."

  "Just don't overstay your welcome," her mother cautioned.

  After kissing her parents on the cheek goodbye, Beatrice gestured Mary-Luce to follow her.

  A part of her was actually quite curious to see what this was all about; with Marigold, you could never tell. She was her best friend in the entire world ever since they were little, and Beatrice loved her profoundly, but sometimes she had such a flair for the dramatics.

  Once there was a time she refused to leave her room for an entire week, simply because she saw another girl in the park dressed in the same dress she wore.

  Beatrice altered the attire herself then, even though Marigold wanted to throw it away, so her friend could look one of a kind in it, which made Marigold quite happy.

  Swiftly, the two girls arrived at the Thompson residence. It wasn't that long of a stroll since the two families were neighbors. Marigold greeted her by the door and hugged her profusely without preamble. Beatrice was startled by the suddenness of her actions but returned the gesture in kind.

  "Are you all right?" Beatrice wanted to know.

  "I am marvelous!" Marigold singsonged, still refusing to let go.

  "What on earth is going on, Marigold?" Beatrice prompted. "I was on my way to the theater when you dragged me here."

  Marigold sighed. "I saved you from watching that same boring thing again."

  Beatrice actually liked watching that same boring thing but held her tongue. "Will you please tell me what is going on?" Beatrice tried again.

  Finally, Marigold released her, and her smile was radiant. Marigold was always cheerful, but Beatrice never saw her like this before. Beatrice presumed she had some very fortunate news to share with her. Her high spirit made Beatrice smile in return.

  "Oh, Beatrice," Marigold exclaimed. "I am so happy, I could just burst from joy!" she announced. She took both her hands with hers, moving them toward the parlor. "You are the first one I wanted to share my news with."

  "So please do." The suspense was killing Beatrice.

  Marigold practically jumped with joy as she continued speaking. "Captain Archer is going to propose to me at Milton's ball!" she squealed with delight, clearly overcome with joy, and Beatrice was right there with her.

  "Oh, Goldie, I am so very happy for you," Beatrice replied, using a pet name for her friend. Still, there was a fleeting thought that saddened her. Even though she was more than happy for her friend, she still felt like she was losing her. Because after today, nothing could be the same between them.

  Chapter Two

  Beatrice immediately felt guilty for having such foolish thoughts. Of course they would be the best of friends forever, always in each other's lives.

  Marigold is getting married. Beatrice still couldn't believe it.

  And yet, it fit perfectly with her friend's character. Ever since they were little, she dreamed about a lavish wedding. On many occasions, Beatrice played the dashing prince that would come and ask for her hand in marriage.

  And now, that child's fantasy is becoming a reality.

  "I am so very happy for you, Marigold," Beatrice said in all sincerity.

  "Me too," Marigold beamed.

  She spent the next half hour telling Beatrice everything about the dear Captain Archer as if that was the first time she heard about the man and had not already known him. Beatrice did not mind. It was joyous to her to see Marigold that happy.

  "And he didn't look nervous at all speaking with my father..." Marigold continued with her narrative, unaware of her little musings.

  And it didn't strike Beatrice as odd that all of this transpired. Captain Archer and Marigold had been courting for quite some time now, and were seen together in many locations, all over the city.

  "Mother bought me the most marvelous dress to wear for that ball."

  "I am so happy for you, Marigold." Beatrice felt the need to repeat her sentiment. "For the both of you. I am certain your life together will be most fortunate," and that was no empty phrase.

  Beatrice never imagined two people more fitted to be together. Apart from her own parents, of course. Marigold was a bit capricious yet lovely, and he was kind and patient. They complemented one another perfectly.

  Marigold smiled hearing her say that. "Thank you, my friend," she said with wet eyes, hugging her again.

  "I think we will be happy as well. But you have to promise me you will visit us all the time," she added sternly.

  And Beatrice nodded. "Of course," she promised without a thought.

  "Oh Beatrice, once you wed as well, we will have so much fun together."

  "I don't even have a suitor yet," Beatrice rebelled without actual heat in her words.

  "You will," Marigold was adamant. Releasing her, she looked her in the eyes. The smile still decorated her beautiful, youthful face. "I can just picture it. Going to parties, raising our children together..."

  And Beatrice wanted to agree with her friend, yet something was holding her back.

  * * *

  Checking the time, Beatrice discovered she would be terribly late if she didn't say goodbye to Marigold and depart at once.

  After expressing her joy once again and offering congratulations on her future engagement, Beatrice added some goodbyes and dashed toward the waiting carriage, courtesy of the Thompson family.

  One carriage ride later, she was rushing up the stair
s to enter the lavish building, which was very unladylike of her. Every once in a while, she had to stop and greet a person she encountered, usually a friend of the family or distant acquaintance, which was unfortunate at a time like this.

  Mother is going to kill me, Beatrice fretted. Checking the time again, she was very pleased to see that she was actually coming just in time for the second act. Maybe her imminent demise would be postponed.

  Her father and mother always sat in the same place, at the east part of the balconies, so Beatrice navigated toward it without losing her stride. She was starting to get a bit flushed, so she took a few deep breaths, making sure she still looked proper before facing her parents.

  Suddenly, two loud bangs reverberated through the theater, followed by various screams. Beatrice's already racing heart started to pound even wilder.

  What was that? Part of the play? No, it couldn't be, she banished that thought immediately.

  The uproar of people emerged from all of parts, running through the doors of the theater hall in a panic. Complete chaos ensued.

  She couldn't hear what some were saying because all the people were speaking, shouting even at the same time, but the scene in front of her was enough to fill her with dread.

  Something bad had happened, she was sure of that.

  As if possessed, she started running again. And not in the direction other people were running. They were trying to get away. Beatrice, on the other hand, ran deeper inside, trying to find her parents.

  She was out of breath and frightened while coming to the upper level of the building. The crème de la crème of the high society ran like scared mice from these parts as well.

  "Mom! Dad!" Beatrice called out to them. Where are they? She panicked. Did she miss them coming here? She didn't think so.

  Her mind raced as she headed for their section. Out of nowhere, she felt a hand on her upper arm, preventing her from moving forward. She turned, only to see an old gentleman staring back at her. "Don't go there!" he warned, his eyes wild with fear. "He might still be here!"

  "Who?" Beatrice asked, matching his levels of anxiety.

  "The killer."

  The killer? Does that mean someone is dead? Beatrice didn't even want to think about something that horrible! She needed to find her parents and get away from this place with the rest of the audience. But for that to happen she had to act, not chit-chat.

  Beatrice broke the contact, and not so gently. "I have to find my parents," she replied, mostly to her own benefit.

  "Come with me," he ignored her words, yet she took a step away from him.

  "No," she snapped.

  The gentleman frowned as if she suddenly spoke in a foreign tongue. Then, he swept his arms toward the entrance. "Suit yourself," he spat back before scurrying away.

  But Beatrice didn't hold that against him, people acted differently while under pressure. Forgetting about that encounter almost instantly, Beatrice continued with her search.

  "Mom! Dad!" She tried again. "Where are you?"

  People were still screaming around her, yet she ignored all that chaos as she finally reached the family lodge.

  She couldn't explain why she hesitated in front of it. "Mom? Dad?" She said more softly this time.

  Oh, get hold of yourself, Beatrice, this is not the time to be fainthearted. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the rich velvety red curtain and pulled it away.

  Entering, relief washed over her, seeing her parents still at their seats.

  That confused her a little at the same time. "Mom, Dad, what on earth are you still doing here," she said in one breath, running the short distance to face them. "We need to go. Some..." but all future words died on her lips.

  What she saw petrified her. Yet, the state didn't last. "No!" Beatrice started screaming from the top of her lungs. And couldn't stop. This can't be happening. This is not real. It can't be.

  Yet she couldn't deny reality. Because in front of her, in the seats, still dressed as she saw them last a mere hour ago, in their best attire, were her parents. But they were not moving, their eyes wide open, and grimacing as if experiencing utter pain, as red blood dripped from their bodies on the carpet below, staining it all around them.

  They were dead. The shots she heard that caused everyone to leave in fright had ended their lives. "No," she screamed again, coming to her father. "Daddy! Daddy, please wake up." She pleaded, shaking him vigorously. "Daddy, please," Beatrice was hysterical and all her efforts were in vain.

  With vision that was starting to blur from tears she wasn't even aware she was shedding, she went to her mother next. Her beautiful, graceful mother looked so unnatural sprawled across her seat. She would never allow herself such poor posture.

  Beatrice fell to the floor next to her feet, her once impeccable dress she chose with such care that same evening getting stained with her mother's blood. "Mom, look at me! Please be all right!" her voice cracked, kissing her mother's hand that was already starting to get cold. Beatrice couldn't bear this, she wanted to follow them even in death.

  "We have to go, Miss." Elaine appeared seemingly out of nowhere, pulling Beatrice up onto her feet quite effortlessly as if she weighed nothing. She didn't feel light. Her heart was full of stones, pressing her, making it difficult to breathe.

  "What are you doing here?" Beatrice asked in all seriousness as if that was of the utmost importance at the moment.

  "I came to bring you your evening shawl, thinking it would be too cold on the way back," she explained in a rush. "Come on, we have to leave this place immediately," Elaine insisted.

  "No," Beatrice rebelled. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to leave them, not here, not like this— all alone and so publicly, on display.

  She continued to struggle until Elaine clearly lost her patience with her and stopped to face her. "Stop it," she snapped. "Whoever killed your parents might still be here."

  That piece of information actually worked. She hasn't considered that. Beatrice stilled. Not that she cared, she wanted to die as well. She couldn't bear the thought of a world without her parents, a world where she was all alone.

  As if Elaine could guess her train of thought, eyes narrowing, she continued speaking. "They raised you better than to be a sniveling brat and a coward."

  Beatrice wouldn't lie, Elaine's words stung a lot. More to the point she jerked slightly as if the old governess actually slapped her, but the words also had the desired effect. They filled her with defiance. She wasn't just going to sit around, cry, and wait for her turn to die.

  "Let's go," Beatrice commanded this time.

  They started running away, together. Beatrice didn't allow herself one last look toward her parents because she knew that would break her all over again. Besides, that was not the image she wanted to remember them by. Even though she was quite certain it would still haunt her in her nightmares.

  Rushing down the stairs, she had to concentrate on each step so she wouldn't break her foot. Those delicate shoes she insisted on wearing were certainly not designed for such affairs. But alas, one learns while one breathes.

  They encountered patrolmen in the great hall, and they were quite surprised to see them here. "What on earth are you still doing here," one of them said gruffly.

  "My parents were murdered," Beatrice said in return, completely ignoring his previous statement. By the look he gave her, he wasn't that surprised to hear that news. He was there to investigate a murder, after all.

  "We will take care of everything, Miss, just follow my man to safety." He nodded to one particular gentleman. And with that, the group of men rushed deeper into the building to hunt for the monster that ruined her life with two devastating blows.

  * * *

  The next couple days passed in a haze to Beatrice. The funeral was worthy of her parents’ stature.

  Personally, Beatrice never cared for such things, yet they certainly deserved a proper farewell, so she made sure everything was just the way they would want it to be. />
  Of course, Elaine never left her side. And Beatrice was truly grateful. She couldn't even fathom what she would do without her governess as well.

  Elaine was the force that pushed her forward. In the following days, many people came and went, dear friends, business associates of her father, long lost cousins to express their condolences.

  All that felt very tiring to Beatrice, but on the other hand, she was humbled and touched so many people loved her parents enough to come grieve with her.

  The saddest, most infuriating thing was the fact that the assassin was not caught at the scene. The few witnesses reported that everything happened too fast for anyone to actually see who killed them.

  On the other hand, since they lived in a place where people adored gossip, all kinds of rumors started, filthy lies, circulated through all classes of people. All people, of all ages, speculated about the potential motives for this heinous crime. And Beatrice was among those people, since she as well wanted to know the truth. It was eating at her, not knowing the reason why.

  She barely slept or ate, her mind never stopping to rest, tormenting her with images of her dear parents murdered, and with questions she would probably never get the answers to. Beatrice turned the whole house upside down in search for clues but ended up with nothing. Benjamin and Sarah Foster were two loving people who never harmed a soul in their lives. So, all of this made no sense to her.

  There has to be something I'm not seeing!

  "You need to rest, my dear," Elaine urged, and by the look on her face, this wasn't the first time she tried to speak with her. But Beatrice was so lost inside her mind that she didn't notice.

  She was sitting in her father's chair surrounded by all kinds of letters, correspondences, contracts that told her nothing. She had wrapped herself tightly in one of his coats that still smelled like him, while wearing a pair of her mother's favorite gloves, holding the bottle of her favorite perfume.

  "I miss them so much, Elaine," Beatrice said, her voice breaking, bursting into tears. "I can't bear it."