Elizabeth Meyette (32 page)

She nodded. “It will be difficult not to see you every day, Andrew.”

He leaned his head against their clasped hands.

“I know, Jenny. I shall die without you beside me every day.”

He looked up at her and saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“Do you love me that much, Jenny?” He was surprised at her reaction, for Jenny was a very sensible young woman, but he was pleased at the evidence of her feelings for him.

“That much and more, Andrew Wentworth. I suppose there is one bright side to this,” she smiled.

“What is that?”

“If we are not parted soon, we will be unable to hold true to our promise.” She laughed and kissed him lightly.

He felt as though a burden had been lifted. Although it would be difficult for them to be parted, he knew their love was strong and enduring.

• • •

Emily sat by the window embroidering a frock for Grace listening to distant thunder. The humidity had promised a storm, and she was glad for it, for it might cool the air. Grace slept soundly in the cradle beside her, and Emily was amazed at how quickly her tiny body was growing as evidenced by the way she filled the cradle and her clothing. She smiled to herself, grateful for Grace’s good health, for many women she knew had lost their babies at birth or soon after. She looked over at the sleeping child who breathed softly and slept peacefully.

Jonathon came into the parlor, and Emily’s heart leapt up at the sight of him as it had ever since he returned. Another thing to be grateful for: her husband’s life.

He sat in the chair opposite hers and glanced at the cradle.

“You know, I believe Grace has slept long enough. Perhaps I should wake her.” His eyes twinkled.

“Jonathon, you had best not or Grace’s mother will be very upset. That does not make for a tranquil household,” she warned.

“But I believe the child misses her father.”

Emily looked up to give him a stern look when a movement outside caught her eye. Deidre was walking from the manor to the necessary, and Emily gasped at the sight of her. She was large with child now. Emily had not seen her since the night Deidre tried to kill her, and the shock of seeing her so obviously with child took Emily’s breath away.

Jonathon had followed her gaze, and he swore softly.

Emily looked at Jonathon, and a stab of pain went through her. She knew she had forgiven him, but she could not help her feelings when confronted with the reality of the situation. Deidre was going to have his child. She looked at Grace and then at Jonathon. Would he love that child as much? Would he long to hold that child and watch it grow and play with it? She could not breathe, and she felt tears sting her eyes.

Jonathon knelt beside her chair.

“Emily, I am so sorry,” he said.

Her throat ached as she fought for control. She merely nodded.

“Emily, Deidre’s child will never mean to me what Grace means to me. She is ours, born of our love.” Emily looked at him, fighting the urge to ask what Deidre’s was born of, but she knew. That child would be born of deceit and cunning, and how would that affect it?

“Can you not send her away, Jonathon? It hurts me so to see her. I still fear her even though she is locked in her room and only allowed out with an escort. I do not trust her.”

“Emily, I cannot send her away.”

“Why not, Jonathon?” A thought struck her that ripped into her heart. “Do you care for her, Jonathon? Is that why you keep her here?” She felt tears spring to her eyes and she blinked them back.

“No, Em. I do not care a whit for her. But I must consider the baby.”

“Your baby,” Emily said softly.

Jonathon looked out at the gardens. He did not speak for a moment.

“Yes,” he said in a low voice. “My baby.”

The sound of thunder rolled in the distance, and the wind picked up blowing the trees.

“Emily I must explain something to you.”

“What is it, Jonathon?”

“It is the reason I allow Deidre to remain here.”

“Go on.”

“If Deidre bears a son … ,” he could not continue. He looked at the floor.

Emily was puzzled. She had not considered whether Deidre carried a boy or girl, in fact, she had never applied a sex in thinking about the child. She had always referred to the child as “it” both in conversation and in her thoughts. Thinking of it as a boy or girl humanized the child, and Emily could not bear that. Once the child was born, she could no longer deny that it was a living, breathing person — born of Jonathon and Deidre. Her thoughts had never gone beyond that.

Jonathon looked up at her and took her hands in his.

“Emily, if Deidre bears a son, he will be the heir of Brentwood Plantation.”

Emily felt as if she had been slapped. She gasped and fell back against the chair, dazed. Slowly she looked at the cradle and the thought crept into her mind.
What does this mean for Grace?
She looked at Jonathon, dumbstruck. She felt as if all of her breath had left her. Again a movement outside caught her eye and she watched as Deidre made her way back to the manor.

Brentwood Manor.

• • •

Andrew looked up from his packing and saw Jenny leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, a smile playing at her lips.

“Would you like assistance with your packing, Andrew?”

She went to him and took the linen shirt that he had balled up in his hands. Laughing, she shook it out, folded it neatly and placed it in the bottom of his valise. She peered up at him through her lashes, her single dimple disclosing her mirth, and making his knees weak.

“What shall I do without you to care for me, Jen?” he asked, feeling the smile break across his face.

“I do not dare to think of it, Andrew.” She leaned in and kissed him.

Andrew embraced her and pulled her to himself, answering her light kiss with the intensity of his desire and his despondency of leaving her. His mouth moved over hers hungrily as if he must savor every sensation of holding her and kissing her to store up and take with him. He felt her hands brush through his hair as she answered his passion with her own. Finally, he released her and they turned back to the packing.

“I will visit as often as possible, Jenny. For certain, I will be home for the Christmas holidays.”

Her face was angelic as she smiled through the tears that glistened in her eyes and threatened to spill over. She nodded.

“I will count every day, every hour until we are together again, Andrew.”

He looked into her eyes, transfixed by her beauty and his longing for her. Desire surged through him; fire began in his belly and pulsated to his limbs. He pulled her into him again, holding her close, stroking her hair.

“Jenny, it is so difficult to leave you.”

She buried her face against his chest, nodding her assent.

“Andrew, are you almost — oh, excuse me,” Emily said as she walked in upon the scene. “I can return in a few moments.”

Andrew pulled away from Jenny.

“No, Em, that is fine. I must leave. But it is so difficult,” he said, looking at Jenny.

Emily smiled. “I understand, Drew. Take a few more moments, and I will send Jonathon up to help you with your bags.” She withdrew, closing the door behind her.

Andrew took Jenny into his arms again pressing his head against her hair and breathing in her lilac scent.

“I shall write to you every day, Andrew,” Jenny whispered.

“And I shall write to you, Jenny.”

“Well, we had best finish your packing, or Jonathon will find us just as Emily did.” Jenny turned to his bed and shook her head at the mound of clothing that lay atop it.

“Were you planning to simply scoop it up and deposit it in your valise?” she laughed.

“Something of that nature,” Andrew laughed.

Together, with some instruction from Jenny, they neatly folded and packed his garments.

• • •

Life at Brentwood Manor eased into a tranquil rhythm and one ordinary day blended into the next. The oppressive heat and humidity of summer transformed into warm days and cool evenings of the coming fall, and the garden surrendered its riot of summer blossoms for the golden and russet tones of autumn.

Congress called upon Jonathon to sail again as the war waged along the coast. His ambivalent feelings wrestled between happiness to return to the
Destiny
, and sadness to have to leave Emily and Grace. He worried, too, about Emily’s safety while he was gone. Deidre had remained securely confined in the east wing of the manor, but just the same, he wanted to lie beside Emily each night to ensure her safety. Such thoughts roamed his mind as the family relaxed on the veranda one early October evening. Watching Emily as she and Joanna chatted and laughed about Will’s antics in the garden that day, he was entranced by her silken skin, which glowed in the light of the setting sun. Her blue-violet eyes twinkled with merriment as she listened to Joanna relating Will’s adventure. Longing stirred within him, and he knew that as much as he loved standing on the deck of his ship, nothing in life compared with being at Emily’s side. As he watched her, she lifted Grace from her shoulder and laid the baby on her lap. Leaning forward, she smiled at Grace who waved her arms and kicked her legs in response. Emily’s voice was soft and gentle as she cooed at the baby. Looking up, she caught Jonathon’s watchful eyes and locked them with her own. Passion stirred within him, and he raised his eyebrows at her. She laughed, nodded slightly, and turned to finish her conversation with Joanna.

“Oh my, Grace needs to be changed. I believe I will get her ready for bed and then retire myself.”

Standing she said goodnight to everyone and went inside. Jonathon stood, stretched and yawned and made his excuses as well. As he said goodnight, his sister smiled.

“You look exhausted, Jonathon. I hope Grace will not disturb your sleep.”

“Sleep is not what concerns me.” He winked at her.

Spirits were high as Brentwood Manor was transformed by the hanging of the greens. Despite the war that continued to rage, especially in the towns along the coast, Jonathon and Emily decided to hold a ball at Brentwood Manor. Swags of evergreen cascaded down the marble staircase, and candles were lit in every window casting a soft glow against the panes. Wreaths decorated each door decorated with apples, holly, feathers, pineapples and even some shells Jonathon had brought back from his recent voyage.

Jenny was especially jovial as they decorated the house. Andrew’s last letter announced that he would arrive the afternoon of the ball. Her heart felt as if it would lift out of her chest and float above her, and she hummed a merry tune as she attached the last apple to the wreath for the front door. Emily had been helping her, and Jenny saw the smiles she tried to hide as they worked together. Emily had been wonderfully supportive while Andrew was away, listening to Jenny’s stories about him even if she had told them before. Jenny knew that more than anyone else, Emily understood what it meant to be parted from the person you love.

“I think it is finished, Emily, what do you think?” Jenny asked backing up to look at the wreath from a distance.

“It is wonderful, Jenny. You have a gift for decorating, that is certain.” Emily stood beside her examining the lush greens festooned with holly, fruits, feathers and ribbons. “It is a symbol of abundance and celebration. You have spent hours on it to make it look perfect, and it does.”

Emily’s compliment filled Jenny’s heart and again she had the sensation of it floating away. What more could happen to make her feel so joyous? She gazed around the foyer and took in the garland along the staircase, the greens surrounding the candles and the silver ribbons tied on to the sconces, reflecting the candlelight. Everything looked beautiful. She carefully lifted the wreath keeping the leather strap free to hang it on the front door. It was so large that she had to peer through the middle of it to find her way.

“Would you help me hang it, Emily?” she asked.

Emily opened the front door, and Jenny stepped out onto the porch. Looking through the center of the wreath, she saw something blocking her way: a man’s longcoat over a silk shirt with lace falling at the neck. Lowering the wreath, she looked over it and into Andrew’s eyes.

“Andrew!” she shrieked, and abandoning all care, let go of the wreath to throw her arms around him. It fell to the floor of the porch between their feet as they embraced and kissed.

“Jenny, your beautiful wreath!” Emily cried trying to reach between the two in order to salvage what she could of it. Laughing, she slipped it out and lifted up. Feathers were askew and fruit dangled precariously from the greens.

“Oh, my word! Look what I have done!” Jenny laughed, not letting go of Andrew’s arm. If her heart had been soaring above her moments ago, now it soared to the heavens.

The three of them returned to the foyer laughing, Jenny and Andrew holding hands.

“Do not worry, Emily. I can repair the wreath and have it hanging up before our guests arrive.” Jenny said. She looked at Andrew feeling as though she had not seen him in years, yet feeling as though they had never been apart. “Everything is in place now.”

• • •

Emily placed the last comb in her hair and tried to tame an errant curl that insisted on falling down the back of her neck. The combs were encrusted with sapphires that sparkled in the candlelight and matched the drop earrings Jonathon had given her. The sapphire necklace lay across her collarbone with one large sapphire dropping to nestle at the top of her décolletage. She had placed a patch on the swell of her left breast and one atop her cheekbone. Royal blue silk swirled around her legs as she slowly spun to see her reflection in the mirror. White lace cascaded at her throat and elbows matching the inset in the front of her skirt. Jonathon beheld her from his seat, his black longcoat draped across his lap, white breeches tucked into shiny, black leather boots, and white lace billowed at the neck of his white silk shirt.

“You tempt me sorely, Love,” he murmured.

“Our guests will be arriving soon, Jonathon. We must constrain our baser passions.” Emily twirled before him sending the scent of jasmine wafting over him. Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on his head while affording him a generous view of her breasts.