Caroline (36 page)

"You must not feel obligated—"

"No, it will help to clear matters up among us. Caro loves my family and is very devoted to you in particular, so I have every hope that you two will form a strong bond as time goes by. She is a poor liar and it distresses her to deceive anyone—particularly those people she is fond of. So, this is as much for her as for you, Maman."

"Well, since you put it that way," she twinkled, "I have been wondering..."

Alec's mouth quirked as he lounged back against the settee and crossed his long legs. "I suppose the most important thing—and the hardest to believe —is that I am actually in love. Perhaps she is a witch, but whatever the reason, I find I am totally captivated. The reason that you have witnessed such extremes in our relationship is that I was fighting against my fate with all the violent futility of a moth caught in a spider's web. Looking back at all the ludicrous things I said and did, I can see that I was lost from the beginning."

"I suppose that the thought of defeat at such delicate hands was hard for you to accept!" Antonia commented with a knowing smile.

"Very true, Maman. During the weeks since Caro and I met, I have quite frequently behaved abominably. Of course that is nothing new for me, but the circumstances seemed to alter when Caro was affected. However, since our marriage I have gradually come to face the truth, and now I feel enormously relieved."

Deciding not to inquire into the reason for their strange, hasty wedding, Antonia replied, "She is a rare girl, Sacha. It is a pleasure to see Caro looking so radiant."

"I know; I have been basking in her glow as well. I am delighted to realize that I have been able to give her the happiness she deserves."

Antonia stood up, reaching out to touch her son's shining black hair. "It has been years since I heard you use the word 'delight' unless it was in sarcasm. That is enough to make this Christmas memorable for me."

* * *

Christmas was not formally over until the sixth of January. On the Twelfth Night, Alec bundled Caro and Grandmere into the sleigh and they rode into Philadelphia to help the family dismantle all their Christmas decorations. They drank hot buttered rum, and when they were done, Jean-Philippe tossed the accumulation of dry pine boughs in to burn with the barely glowing remnants of their Yule log.

Grandmere had brought along a carefully wrapped Twelfth-cake, which Caro learned she had baked herself every year since her marriage. It was a splendid confection, dark with spices and fruit, heavily iced, and decorated with gold and silver stars, brightly colored flowers and crowns, and miniature figures of the Three Kings.

Mary Armstrong had dropped by to lend a friendly hand, and Caro found her company distinctly pleasing. Not only did she enjoy talking to her, but the sight of Nicholai laughing heartily at Mary's witticisms brought her profound relief. His green eyes twinkled with familiar gaiety, and when he spoke to Caro, she could see that the angry pain had gone from them, fading away with the bruise on his cheekbone.

The crowning moment came with the cutting of the Twelfth-cake. Jean-Philippe placed a generous slice on Caro's plate, explaining, "My mother has baked a bean and a pea into this cake. Whoever finds the bean becomes the Twelfth Night King and the girl with the pea will be the Queen."

"But what if they find the wrong ones?" she asked.

"Then the finders may choose a partner and we will have two sets of 'royalty,'" laughed Jean-Philippe.

Everyone fell silent as they ate their cake, while the suspense built. Katya impatiently broke her portion up with her fork, suddenly exclaiming:

"Look, look! I have found the bean!"

Grandmere beamed at the little girl.

"
Alors
, Queen Katya, you must choose a king."

Without a moment's hesitation, she scrambled off her chair, black braid flying, and ran into Alec's arms.

"I am honored, your highness," he declared, and hoisted her onto his lap with a gallant smile.

Across the table, Nicholai produced the pea and Caro's heart began to pound with apprehension. She knew, however, that the last of her worries were over when he turned to Mary and grinned. The girl's eyes went wide with surprised delight as Nicholai transferred her onto his lap and proceeded to kiss her until Jean-Philippe cleared his throat.

Caro couldn't recall ever feeling such bubbling contentment.

"This is a wonderful tradition," she declared, then leaned forward to speak confidentially to her little sister-in-law. "Tell me, is there a reason why those two pieces of cake were set aside? I thought perhaps I could take them home to Pierre and Rose."

"No!" cried Katya. "Those were cut for God and Our Lady! We must keep them for the first poor person who comes to our house. If Pierre is very poor, I suppose he might qualify, but he must come here to get them!" She paused, considering. "It seems very odd that you did not know about this. Didn't you have a Twelfth-cake at your house before you married Sacha?"

Caro raised panicky eyes to Alec, who interceded coolly. "Your Highness, don't you know that it's only in France that portions are kept for God and Our Lady? And now it's a tradition that is kept in our family."

"Really?" Katya answered, while Caro breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes," he replied, adding smoothly: "Besides, Caro is Swedish, and in Sweden they do not have Twelfth-cakes at all."

"Not at all?" Katya echoed in horrified tones. Caro smiled thankfully at her husband over Katya's head, and he winked back.

Chapter 26

With Christmas behind them, Caro saw many changes begin in her life with Alec. Now that his personal life was in order, he began to devote more time to his business interests. Caro knew also that he had men watching for Ezra Pilquebinder, but he still refused to let down his guard, and that was fine with her.

By mid-January, there was a tremendous thaw which brought with it spring-like temperatures. Alec began making daily trips into Philadelphia, and Caro was his constant companion, whom he treated with the same lighthearted camaraderie that he accorded his male acquaintances. With pleasure, Alec set out to acquaint her with the ships he owned, the newspaper he helped to publish, and the administration of the five-hundred-acre estate surrounding Belle Maison. On several occasions, he brought her along to Bradford's London Coffee House, where merchants gathered to discuss all the latest news concerning ships, prices, and politics. Alec was proud of his lovely young wife and his friends beamed with approval at the happy couple.

Caro learned quickly and soon was able to converse easily with him and his acquaintances on almost any subject, including politics. Alec's friends, among whom were Gouverneur Morris and the electrifying writer Philip Freneau, began to visit their home with growing frequency. Alec always invited Caro to join them, and the men seemed to enjoy her charming presence and interested participation in their conversations.

Gradually, Alec began to relate to her some of his experiences during the war. Although he glossed casually over his own risks and the dangers involved, Caro could sense that his exploits had been seasoned with his usual reckless flair.

Her own impressions of the war were vague, so when Alec mentioned battles and names Caro was in total ignorance. Slowly, she began to piece together the story of his part in the Revolution, frequently turning to Pierre for help. At night, when she lay in Alec's arms, she would gently question him. This was Caro's favorite time of day, for they were both mellow with satisfaction and love for each other, and Alec's voice would caress her lazily in the darkness.

She learned that he had actually spent much of the early war in the company of the army, being present when Washington had crossed the Delaware River at the end of 1776 to surprise the Hessians at Trenton and win the first great victory of the war. Later, in the fall of the next year, he had accompanied his friend Kosciuszko up the Hudson River to Bemis Heights. Caro heard of Kosci's talent in laying the American defenses before a battle.

"As an engineer, his genius and inventiveness were unsurpassed," Alec told her frankly. "And his devotion to the cause of liberty—all over the world—is single-minded."

He described in sketchy terms his roaming life as an American spy, never mentioning the ill-fated love affair with Emily, and Caro could see no trace of pain—or regret—in his eyes when he spoke of those days. However, he never explained the reason why he had suddenly changed his wartime role, joining his father on board a privateer which had been converted just before the British began their occupancy of Philadelphia. The American Navy had been sadly wanting, so many of the more prosperous ship-owners had outfitted their own crafts to attack and take enemy vessels.

Originally Jean-Philippe had built the few smaller, sleek boats to outmaneuver and out-sail England's restrictive trade acts, but, with the war, they served a different purpose. Alec remained with his ship until 1779, when eighteen-year-old Nicholai had replaced his brother who then left to join Francis Marion's guerrilla band in South Carolina.

Graphically, Alec recounted their adventures on board the privateer, and Caro listened with high interest. One night he told her about their friend Philip Freneau's war experience aboard a privateer, a story which made her more thankful than ever for Alec's good fortune in eluding the enemy.

"Freneau had the fates against him," he declared. "I was with Marion during the time when Philip built and captained the
Aurora,
but I heard tales of his daring command. I always felt that by forgetting the danger in an exploit, I would be secure, and that worked for me. Sad to say, our friend was not so lucky. He managed a few narrow escapes aboard his privateer, but in the end he was captured and finished the war aboard a prison ship. Fortunately, Cornwallis' surrender followed shortly and he was released." Alec laughed. "I suspect, however, that he has lost his taste for adventure."

"You should not make light of that," Caro teased, "since, after all, your own wild youth is behind you."

As soon as it was out, she regretted the jibe, and then Alec was pushing her playfully back against the pillows.

"Do not say so, madame," he admonished her, looking piratical in the darkness. "As long as you share my bed, my life will never be tame."

* * *

Caro awoke one morning early in February to find Alec already out of bed and shaving. A lacy pattern of fluttering snowflakes met her eyes when she sat up to look out the window, and she sprang out of bed like a child to press her face against the glass.

"Snow!" she cried. "It's snowing again at last!"

Alec set down his razor and joined her at the window, wrapping his arms around her body clad in its soft lawn bedgown.

"Either it's a bad omen or a good one," he murmured, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her hair. "With snow, it's hard to tell."

Caro laughed and led him firmly back to the basin, standing on her toes to finish shaving him.

"I'll have you trained yet, my dear," he said, while carrying her back to the bed. Caro quivered beneath his smoldering gaze, but he surprised her by only smoothing back her honey-colored curls.

"I have something to tell you. I meant to give you the news last night, but I was mysteriously distracted." He smiled recalling the passion they had shared. "The truth is that I have received word that Pilquebinder has left Philadelphia at last. He was bound for Boston at last sighting, and I shall be duly informed if he should chance to reappear in our vicinity."

"Well! That's wonderful news!"

"I was sure you would be pleased," he replied, sitting up to wipe a stray spot of soap left on his cheek. "This will mean a great deal more freedom for you,
cherie.
You will not need to accompany me everywhere from now on."

Caro's face fell, but Alec, sitting on the edge of the bed, did not see her reaction.

"Oh," she said.

"I have already made provisions in town for accounts for you in all the best shops. You must choose whatever you like for the house; I have heard that there have been recent shipments from France, and I'm sure that Maman or Molly Morris would be happy to give you any help you may desire."

In the midst of buttoning his shirt, he glanced back at her over his shoulder. Caro sat in the middle of the spacious Hepplewhite bed looking very forlorn.