Elizabeth Meyette (3 page)

• • •

Emily sat at her dressing table brushing her thick honey-colored hair, taking in the beautiful furnishings in their bedroom. A mahogany bed nestled between two tall windows, its four posts topped with carved pineapples — a symbol of home and welcome. The tester and counterpane were rich silk, ivory in an alternating stripe, and pale blue brocade curtains framed the windows. Thick rugs covered areas of the highly polished floor, their rose patterns mirroring the hues of the other fabrics. This was their sanctuary when Jonathon was home, and the possibility that he would return shifted her focus.

Her thoughts traveled miles away to the hunting cabin where Jonathon lay suffering from wounds inflicted by British troops. Recalling how wan and drained he had looked today despite his brave smile caused her heart to ache, and she longed to be beside him at this moment tending to his wounds, caring for his pain. His words had eased the guilt she felt about his capture, guilt that was increased by words Deidre had flung at her when she returned to Brentwood Manor after Jonathon’s apparent death.
Do you know why he is dead? Because of his blasted Tory wife!
Emily shivered as she remembered that confrontation just two months ago. Now Deidre was living beneath their roof with no idea that Jonathon was just miles away, and Emily knew it was best to preserve that secret. Silence was of the utmost importance to ensure Jonathon’s safety. He was a major prize to the British as he would serve as an example to all patriots who fought for the cause of independence.

But Emily’s heart was full to bursting with joy at seeing him. How she longed to confide in someone, to relive each moment she had spent with him today, to share the news of his safety. But for Jonathon’s sake, she would hold the secret in her heart and anticipate the next opportunity to visit him.

She stepped to the bed and pulled back the covers. Climbing in, she reached beneath the pillow and retrieved Jonathon’s shirt. Each night since her return to Brentwood Manor, she had tucked his shirt against her cheek as she waited to fall asleep. Dressing for their trip months ago, he had put it on briefly, and then changed it for another. It still held his scent, and had comforted Emily during long nights of grief. She smiled as she smoothed the linen thinking back to the afternoon spent lying beside him. She nestled the shirt against her face and inhaled his scent once more. He was alive; her beloved Jonathon was alive. She lay against the pillow and cradled the shirt; soon she would have no need of it for Jonathon would be beside her.

• • •

Brentwood Manor was known far and wide for its beauty. Stately catalpa trees stood sentinel along the circular drive that led up to the manor. The emerald green lawn swept up from the drive to the carefully groomed shrubs that surrounded the home. In contrast with the verdant lawns, the Flemish-bond, red brick manor rose two stories high in classical symmetry, and large double-hung windows flanked either side of the central entrance. Two enormous chimneys were stationed at either end of the hipped roof, and five double-hung windows ran along the second story on the front of the house.

The gardens were also symmetrical with paths running throughout the sculptured shrubbery. On this spring morning, manicured flowerbeds contained multi-colored tulips bobbing in the breeze creating a wild kaleidoscope of color sweeping along the garden’s edge. Tucked in among the shrubs, irises, azaleas and Virginia bluebells turned their faces toward the sun. Dogwoods and cherry blossoms burst against the azure sky, the air redolent with the aroma of spring blossoms.

The morning sun streamed across the veranda infusing everything with springtime radiance, and Emily basked in its warmth and her memories of Jonathon. She and Joanna were enjoying their customary morning tea, and as was often the case, a comfortable silence had fallen between them. Again Joanna found herself studying her sister-in-law, for the Emily who had left for a carriage ride with Andrew yesterday was not the Emily who had returned last evening. Her complexion was rosier, the crease between her eyebrows, erased. The curtain of anxiety that had enveloped her since their discovery that Jonathon lived had given way to a lightness of movement. At this moment, Emily was quietly humming a song, and her fingers tapped the arm of her chair. Sensing Joanna’s eyes upon her, Emily fell silent and looked up at her.

“Emily, I am pleased to see you so full of spring fever this morning,” Joanna said, smiling.

“It is a glorious day, is it not, Joanna?”

“Indeed, and it certainly has brightened your mood. How wonderful to see your face looking so peaceful and to hear you softly humming a tune. Spring will bring out the best humor in people; do you not think so, Emily?” Joanna could not help encouraging Emily to share whatever she had discovered the day before. She was convinced it was news about her brother because of the transformation in Emily. And as difficult as Jonathon’s presumed death, and then the discovery that he was alive and had escaped, was for Emily, it was also very difficult for Joanna. She and Jonathon had always been very close even as children. Her grief had been deep and terrible as well, but she at least had David and little Will to comfort her. Yes, Emily’s grief was a dark abyss from which Joanna thought she might not return. She looked fondly at her sister-in-law and smiled.

“I am content to see your happiness return,” she said giving up the attempt to pry.

“Joanna — I,” Emily began. She longed to confide in her, to share her joy at seeing Jonathon, touching him, kissing him. Joanna had been her confidant many times, with Emily eventually even acknowledging that she and Jonathon were lovers after their first stay in the cabin. Joanna, so level-headed and compassionate, had always been supportive and never judged harshly. It was Joanna who had helped Emily when a British captain had attempted to rape her while his troops camped on Brentwood Plantation. Yes, she longed to share her secret, and Emily knew that Joanna would guard it as sacred. Joanna waited patiently for Emily to continue, for her inner struggle was evident on her face.

“Joanna — I want to … ” Emily began but stopped speaking abruptly as Deidre stepped out onto the veranda.

“What do you want to do, Emily, dear?” Deidre asked.

“Uh … I want to take a stroll through the garden,” Emily replied, color rising to her cheeks. Deidre tilted her head watching her closely.

“You seem to be encountering trouble making that decision. It is really not that difficult, Emily, just rise and walk,” Deidre laughed. “Or perhaps I interrupted a more meaningful conversation.”

“Not at all, Deidre. We were just remarking on the beauty of the day and the lure of the gardens,” Joanna replied.

“Of course. I am curious about Andrew’s visit, Emily. Did he bring any news of Jonathon? What are they saying in Williamsburg?” Deidre asked.

Joanna looked quickly at Emily, and it did not escape Deidre’s notice.

“Andrew did not tell me anything about Jonathon, nor did he mention what the news is from Williamsburg,” Emily replied rationalizing the truthfulness of her statement with the fact that, indeed, Andrew had not
said
anything to her about Jonathon. He had simply delivered her into his arms.

“How odd that you spend the whole day with your brother and the topic of Jonathon never arises. It seems to me that all you would wish to talk about is your husband.” Deidre’s attempt to sound innocent was not lost on Emily. Beneath her words hovered a subtle sarcasm.

“Oh, certainly we talked about Jonathon. We … we discussed what many are conjecturing about him; we discussed where the British are likely searching for him. Yes, yes of course we discussed him,” Emily stammered.

Joanna broke in and rose, reaching for Emily’s hand.

“The garden awaits us, Emily. Let us take our stroll now,” she said gently pulling Emily to her feet. “Deidre, would you like to join us?” Joanna added as an afterthought.

Deidre looked slowly from one woman to the other, and then shook her head.

“No, you two seem very anxious to be among the flowers. I shall rest here in the sun for a while.”

Nodding slightly, Joanna led Emily out to one of the paths. With a voice louder than was necessary, Joanna related Will’s antics upon waking that morning, her laughter floating on the breeze behind her where Deidre scowled at the backs of the two women.

When they were safely out of earshot, Joanna fell quiet and they walked along in companionable silence. Emily’s turmoil was almost tangible, and Joanna sympathized with her. It was obvious Emily had learned something of Jonathon’s whereabouts from Andrew, but she no longer desired to pry. That would make her just like Deidre. She knew Emily would confide in her when she felt comfortable doing so.

“I thought that Deidre’s difficulties would have transformed her, but I believe I was too optimistic,” Emily said.

“I wondered at your generosity in offering her a place here. I am not surprised because that is what your heart is like, Emily, but she has caused you nothing but trouble since you arrived in Virginia.”

“I feel sorry for her, in a way, Joanna. I believe she is still in love with Jonathon. I know they were lovers at one time, and I do not think she ever stopped loving him. My coming to Brentwood Manor complicated the situation for her, because I suspect she believed she would eventually win Jonathon back. In her way, she fought for him, even on our wedding day. When she lost everything to the British, I felt so sorry for her — I have everything and she had nothing.”

“Well, not everything, Emily. We still do not know where Jonathon is.”

Emily stopped in the path and looked at her sister-in-law. How difficult it was not to blurt out her story and share the weight of her secret. She searched Joanna’s eyes finding love and compassion, but she could not bring herself to reveal her knowledge. Joanna took her hand, turned and continued walking, bringing Emily along.

“You need to be very cautious with Deidre. Do not trust her with any information that might put Jonathon in danger,” Joanna said. She looked back at the veranda where Deidre sat watching them. “In fact, Emily, just be very cautious around her in all circumstances.”

“I will be, Joanna, do not worry. I — I trust you implicitly, Joanna, but … ”

Joanna gently shook her head and smiled.

“In time, Emily, in time.”

• • •

Deidre watched the two women speaking earnestly as they strolled the path. She, too, had noted a tremendous change in Emily upon her return yesterday. The silly girl was as transparent as glass, and she was certain that Emily had been with Jonathon. Fiery hatred kindled in her belly and crept up to her throat at that thought. The fact that Emily carried Jonathon’s child only increased her hatred, for Emily had everything that Deidre felt should have been hers — Jonathon, his heir, and Brentwood Manor.

Emily fidgeted over the next days, her mind filled with the thought that Jonathon was just a carriage ride away. She flitted from reading a book to strolling in the garden to playing with Will, but her thoughts were always elsewhere, at a cabin with her Jonathon. Noticing her restlessness, Joanna tried all kinds of diversions: games of whist, sewing clothes for the baby, redesigning frocks to suit Emily’s changing figure. But none of these were successful, and Emily was growing impatient and short-tempered. One morning while playing with Will, Emily scolded him stridently for throwing a toy drum across the parlor.

“William, we do not throw toys!” Emily shouted at the child. Startled by the volume of her voice, he began to wail.

“Emily, what is wrong?” Joanna asked, for she had never spoken thus to William.

Emily felt her eyes brim with tears as she looked from Will to Joanna. She knelt down beside the child and reached out to comfort him. He twisted away from her and held out his arms to his mother. Joanna scooped him up and took a seat on the nearby settee. Unable to hold her emotions in check any longer, Emily released her pent up tears, her shoulders shaking. Sobbing, she looked at Will and Joanna.

“Forgive me, Will, Aunt Emily is not … not herself today,” she managed to get out between sobs. She reached out to stroke the child’s leg, but he turned from her and buried his face in Joanna’s neck, his wailing intensifying.

“There, there,” Joanna murmured against Will’s forehead. “It is all right, William, it is all right.” But he would not be consoled. She gently bounced and rocked him, softly singing a lullaby, and after a while his cries settled into whimpers, tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, Will, I am so sorry that I frightened you,” Emily said. “Aunt Emily is so sorry.” She rose, wiping her own tears from her face, and gently approached him. “Do you forgive your aunt who loves you so, Will?”

Will eyed her suspiciously as she neared him. He turned his face away from her and then looked back. When she stood before him, he laid his head against Joanna’s shoulder and peeked up at Emily who reached out and brushed a curl that had fallen against his eye. She smiled tenderly at him, and the trace of a smile lit his eyes. Leaning forward she kissed his cheek tenderly.

“Aunt Emily loves Will,” she said softly tickling him and was rewarded with a smile. Emily’s eyes shifted to Joanna’s.

“Forgive me, Joanna,” she said softly.

“Of course, Emily, but I am worried about what initiated such an uncharacteristic outburst,”

Emily’s eyes drifted away from her sister-in-law’s and fixed on the view from the terrace window. She watched a robin swoop down and tug a piece of straw caught in a flower pot on the veranda. The bird wrangled the straw until it came loose from the soil, twisting its beak this way and that until freeing its prize. Finally victorious, it flew off to improve its nest. Nothing in life came easily, it seemed. Struggling within, she weighed revealing her secret to Joanna with her promise to keep silent about Jonathon’s whereabouts. Surely she could reveal that she had seen Jonathon, yet still keep his location a secret; Joanna would understand the need for discretion. The thought struck her: what if something had happened to her own brother, Andrew? It would be agonizing not to know if he was all right. Yes, Joanna must be told at least that much; she must be told that Jonathon is alive and safe — for now. Making up her mind, she turned to her sister-in-law who held a now-sleeping Will in her arms.