Love in Three-Quarter Time (27 page)

CHAPTER 38

“Finally, Mr. Lorimer. I thought I might never catch you.” Constance, short of breath from dancing, scurried to him. Her cheeks flushed pink to match her dress. Her curls bounced in her hurry. She had never before looked so charming.

But he knew she might not bear good news. He braced himself for her next words.

“May we have that dance now?” She smiled, her gleaming eyes reflecting the golden lamplight.

He blew out a breath. “Of course.” But he dare not say more. He had exposed too much of his heart already. His proposal had been offhanded. Spontaneous. An offer of escape from the disaster with Robbie. Perhaps she hadn't taken him seriously. He could only hope.

Then again, maybe his real hope was that she had. Women were mystifying creatures.

He'd done right to stay away from them all these years. Lorimer took Constance's hand, and they began a romping country dance. For a moment, he wished he'd learned the gliding moves of the waltz. That he could draw her into his arms. But in truth, it might be more than he could bear. Just grasping her gloved hand in his caused him to shake—this from a mountain man who'd survived bears and Indians, an abolitionist who stole slaves from under their masters' noses.

“Mr. Lorimer, we must finish our conversation from the verandah.”

Dark dread filled him. “Not necessary. Pretend it never happened. I made a fool of myself.”

“Never. But I'm afraid at this time, despite my fondness for you, I can't make such a commitment. And I think, if you search your heart, you aren't ready to promise your life to another either.” She offered him a twisted grin. “I think your heart and your life belong solely to God, and you are not prepared to share them with anyone else.”

That comment hit like an arrow. Straight. True. And stinging with pain. He knew it was coming but never expected it to strike with such blinding accuracy. Right to his chest. No, he hadn't given enough thought to how Constance might fit in his life. Or even if God wanted her there. He merely gave thought to his own desires.

He gripped her hand tight.

“As much as I hate to admit it, you are correct, Miss Cavendish. It was rash of me to mention marriage. I never should have done it.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “I do care for you. And I'm sure someday, if and when the time is right, God will bring the perfect woman to you.”

Maybe. Maybe he would. First Lorimer would need to figure out how to pull the burning arrow of rejection from his chest. He would bury himself in his work where he belonged. Lorimer never should have let himself fool with love in the first place.

* * *

Constance searched the house once again, this time with a different target in mind. The tunes from the ballroom had at last faded away. Guests said their farewells one by one at the mammoth double doors.

Giving two rejections in one night. She did not relish the thought. In fact, she hated hurting anyone the way Robbie had once devastated her. But she did not return their love, not Franklin's and not even Lorimer's. Not in the manner required for marriage.

No, truth must be cherished. For without it, how could any of them survive? And this evening, she had merely spoken truth, difficult as that truth might be.

In so doing, she had cleared a path for her own future, a future that now shimmered straight and clear before her. Tonight as all her options, all the hopes of this past year had spread before her, she knew only one would suffice. Only one could satisfy that deep hunger in her soul.

And that option stood before her, grinning and waiting in his handsome black frock coat with the rose satin shining beneath.

He held out his hand to her. “I wondered when you might find your way back to me. I've missed you, you know.”

Mr. Robert Montgomery. The man she'd longed for and dreamed of all these years.

“It wasn't easy. Many obstacles stood in my way.” She slipped her hand, now bare, into his.

He clutched his other hand over top their joint ones. “And we have several still to face.”

“I agree. But I've lived without you long enough. Somehow we'll find a way.” She snuggled against him in the corner of the parlor, although the final guests of the night still lingered. Let them think what they might. They'd remedy the gossip soon enough. In the way they should have five years ago. “In case I haven't said it lately, I love you, Robert James Montgomery. I always have. No one can ever take your place.”

He stroked her cheek. “As I told you long ago, I love you, Constance Marie Cavendish. That has never changed.”

She turned her cheek into his palm, like a kitten. “May I tell you something that might sound odd?”

Robbie twisted his finger through a curl at her temple. “You may tell me anything, my darling.”

“I had a vision. God instructed that I allow you to lead me into healing. I'm ready to let God lead my life, and he's shown me that he wants to do so—at least in part—through you.”

Robbie gulped and pressed his mouth tight. “And I know just where we must begin.” He kissed her upon the forehead. Her skin tingled and buzzed beneath his soft lips. He wrapped his arm about her shoulder, and she allowed him to lead her to the portico.

Constance waved as the final guests headed to carriages and into the thick August darkness. Crickets chirped their late-night tune, joined in harmony by the croak of frogs from the distant pond. The ball ended on a perfect note.

But she did not know where Robbie would lead her next.

CHAPTER 39

Robbie scanned the faces in front of him. Faces of his loved ones. Faces of those who'd been affected by his devastating choices—although they were unaware they were about to hear a life-altering pronouncement. They covered the small study and became a blur despite his attempt to differentiate them. Constance had insisted on including Lorimer and Martha. He suspected she needed their support more than anything else. Robbie clutched the chair in front of him to keep from teetering. He could use some support himself.

One of the young ladies yawned, but he could not say which.

“Come now, Robbie. It's past midnight, and we're all exhausted.” Mother leaned heavily into the ornate settee and pressed her palm to her brow. “This has been a long evening. I don't see why it couldn't wait until morning.”

Robbie took a deep breath and braced himself against the chair, steeling his heart against the imminent catastrophe. Constance laid her hand atop his and gave it a squeeze. He could do this. Tonight he would be a man. A true man. A man who didn't run from his past. He would not let Constance down again. “It can't wait until morning because it is five years overdue already. I'm afraid I've an important confession to make. I do not know what the ramifications will be, but I've carried this burden far too long.”

He must speak the truth as God had bidden, and trust the timing to be correct.

Mother sat forward now, along with his stepfather.

Robbie angled himself toward Constance's mother. “Mrs. Cavendish, I'm sorry to say that this primarily involves you. Back in Prince George County all those years ago, you welcomed me into your home and allowed me to court your daughter. What you didn't know was that I was on a mission—a rather underhanded mission to help your slaves escape.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Cavendish put her arm around Felicity like a shield. “You what? I don't understand.”

Constance rushed around to the front of the chair, spreading her arms and covering him with her own body. “Mother, there are things you must know. The slaves were about to revolt. Robbie's actions, though duplicitous, might well have saved all our lives.”

“Revolt? But why?” Mrs. Cavendish whispered, her face turning pale.

Patience, appearing not as surprised as he might have expected, moved behind the settee to knead her mother's shoulders. “It's true, Mama. He didn't treat them well. I saw it myself.”

“I realize it's a complex institution and my husband wasn't perfect. But they were just sla…” Mrs. Cavendish glanced to Martha, and her eyes softened.

Constance had been wise to include the slave woman in this discussion.

Mrs. Cavendish fanned her face with her handkerchief and tried again. “But to undermine our hospitality. To help them escape. It's unthinkable. And terribly illegal!”

His own mother sat frozen, frighteningly without words. Her gaze bounced back and forth as if observing a tennis volley.

“There's more.” Robbie cleared his throat. “I'm the one who lured Mr. Cavendish off to gamble that night. I failed to keep the overseer away and thereby began the string of events leading to your husband's death. I fear I am responsible for all that has befallen you.”

Mrs. Cavendish crumpled. She buried her face in her hands and moaned. “No. No. It can't be.”

Felicity glared at him with quiet hatred. “We will see you hanged for this, sir.”

Precisely as he'd feared. But he would face it with dignity.

Patience twisted her face and stared at him, disappointment and shock spread across her features. At least she hadn't railed at him. She turned her gaze to Martha with a brief flicker of compassion and then back to Robbie. “But…I don't understand. You pretended to court my sister merely to trick us?”

“No!” Robbie shouted, but then he managed to calm himself. “It's true that courting her was part of the plan from the beginning, but the moment I saw her, I fell in love. That's when matters went awry. I was so desperate to complete my mission without losing her that I failed to protect her own father. I'm so sorry. It is the most tragic error of my entire life. There are no words to express my great remorse. Know only that I have suffered every day since.”

“Good,” said Felicity.

Mrs. Beaumont continued to moan, rocking back and forth.

“Wait.” Constance held up her hand. “Before you judge him, there's more you must know.”

“Constance,” Lorimer spoke in a low grumble. “You don't need to do this.”

“No. I must.”

Robbie walked around the chair to offer his support with a hand on her shoulder. “Hard as this is, I agree. There's no other way. Everything must come out tonight.”

Constance knelt before her mother and lifted the woman's chin.

Tears streamed down her wrinkled face, old before its time from so much tragedy.

“Mother, I've seen Sissy. Do not ask me where or how because I shan't endanger her. For years I blamed myself for our destruction because I had secretly educated Sissy, but I've since learned it was not my fault. I've seen the telltale back of Sissy's husband, James. Scarred beyond recognition as human flesh, at Father's own hand.”

Her mother's face, flushed now from crying, went white yet again.

Constance took a moment to stare at the carpeted floor and gather her courage.

Robbie knelt beside her.

“But there's worse, Mother.”

“Don't say it.” Mrs. Cavendish choked out the words.

Constance looked deep into Robbie's eyes before turning back to her mother. “I must. You need to forgive Robbie, for my sake if for nothing else. And I believe once you hear this, you will. But more than that, you need to know the truth—the whole truth so that you might move forward.”

Mrs. Cavendish shook her head again and again.

Constance took the woman's cheek in her palm and stopped the motion. “Sissy introduced me to her four-year-old daughter, Mother. Her four-year-old daughter…with bright copper hair.”

The entire room seemed to let out a collective gasp. Including Robbie, who had not known this lurid detail. He'd guessed Mr. Cavendish misused his female slaves, but for such stunning proof to exist…He struggled to collect his thoughts.

Patience's face blanched and tears filled her eyes. Felicity sat with her mouth agape.

Mrs. Cavendish rose and began to pace the floor, tearing at her gray hair all the while. “I should have known. I guessed as much, but I'm just a country girl from England. What am I to understand of such matters? He said to leave it to him. He'd handle everything. He knew best. Oh what a fool I was. I might have prevented it all, but I was too much a coward. Oh! Oh!” Her face went ghostly now and her breaths came in quick spurts.

Robbie grabbed her from behind by the elbows. “Dear Mrs. Cavendish. You must calm yourself before you faint.” He settled her back on the settee beside Felicity, who now gazed at him with resignation.

“Martha, run and fetch my smelling salts,” Mrs. Beaumont commanded, and the servant took off in a flash.

“I think I knew as well,” Patience muttered eerily from behind the settee, staring at nothing in particular over the fireplace.

“You weren't to blame, Mother,” Constance said. “Father's evil caused this. You are not to blame, and I am not to blame. Even Robbie is not to blame. Such wickedness comes with consequences.”

Lorimer stepped forward. “But the time of those consequences is finished. The season for redemption is now. You can let this night destroy you, or it can be the start of something beautiful and new.”

Martha dashed back in and waved the salts beneath Mrs. Cavendish's nose.

The woman pushed them away and endeavored to sit up straight. “No need, Martha. Mr. Lorimer is correct. We must let this be a night of healing, a new beginning. We've no choice.”

Patience swiped at her tears. “I agree, Mother. By all means, this can go on no longer.”

Mrs. Cavendish directed her attention to her youngest daughter at her side. “Felicity.” The girl took her mother by the hand.

“There will be no more talk of hanging.” Mrs. Cavendish's voice grew stronger with each syllable.

“Yes, ma'am. Of course. I didn't know when I said it.” Felicity stared at her lap.

“Mr. Montgomery, although your actions might be considered illegal, I see in your eyes that your heart is pure.” Mrs. Cavendish looked up at him, her own eyes filled with a mixture of pain and determination. “You were young and rash. Perhaps you might have done better, but we all could have made different choices that might have averted tragedy that night. And truth be told, given all the heartache my husband had wrought, perhaps nothing could have prevented it at all.”

Robbie's heart turned an odd somersault in his chest. He'd not allowed himself to dream of such an outcome to this wretched evening. “So might you forgive me, Mrs. Cavendish? I swear to you I have paid my penance a hundred times over in losing your beautiful daughter from my life.”

Mrs. Cavendish closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again. “Aye, somehow I will find the strength. I shall endeavor to dwell on those of us you saved—the five Cavendish ladies and all the precious servants.”

“Do you forgive me as well, Mother?” asked Constance, still on her knees before the woman.

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Cavendish managed a small chuckle to prove the ludicrousness of such a request. “I can't fathom that you blamed yourself. I suspected about Sissy all along. Nor are you at fault for Robbie's actions.”

“Maybe we should count it all as the fallen state of mankind and move forward,” said Lorimer. “No more casting blame. What's past is past. And might I suggest, Mrs. Cavendish, that you send emancipation papers to any escaped slaves we can locate? I believe that would be a way to finally put this matter to rest. A sort of reconciliation. Relinquish them to God and the past along with them.”

What was the man thinking? Mrs. Cavendish was no abolitionist. She had never once showed such leanings. Although Robbie realized, now that Constance had declared her affections, he felt rather fond of Lorimer once again.

“I…I…” Mrs. Cavendish looked wide-eyed at the circuit preacher.

Lorimer nodded his head in that strong, charismatic sort of way he had.

“I would never have thought of it…” Mrs. Cavendish patted her chest. “But it sits well in my soul. And I certainly have no need of them now. Nor would I feel comfortable reaping profit from their sale.”

Robbie's mother sat forward as if to speak, her gaze locked directly upon him. A few muted squeaks squeezed through her lips, then she leaned back again with moisture shimmering in her eyes.

“I think what my wife wishes to say,” Mr. Beaumont stood, “is that we're proud of you, son. You are a man of your convictions. What parents could ask for more?”

A heavy iron weight of five years—no, of the seventeen years since his father died so disappointed in him—floated away from Robbie's shoulders in that instant. As Mr. Beaumont took him in a strong embrace, he felt like a lad of nine years again, but this time loved and accepted. His mother sobbed and rushed to join the hug. And his sisters completed the circle.

He had thought tonight would be the beginning of the end. That he'd be hanged for certain. Instead he'd been set free, just as Marcus proclaimed. Only one issue remained to be addressed.

He untangled himself from the knot of his family. “Before we adjourn the meeting, there's one more matter.”

“Good gracious, no!” shrieked his mother. “No more, please,” agreed Mrs. Cavendish.

“I must, but it's not so terrible…I hope.” He tugged Constance from the floor, looped his arm about her, and leaned over to kiss her hair, that liquid fire. “I know it's too soon and probably far too much to ask, but, Mrs. Cavendish, when you've had time to forgive me, would you please consider allowing me to marry your daughter?”

Mrs. Cavendish blinked in wonder. “Constance? This is why I must forgive him. You love him too. You've loved him all this time.”

“I've tried for five years to cease loving him, Mama, and I simply can't.” Now Constance began to cry.

“You've been a specter of yourself.”

“I know.”

Mrs. Cavendish took a deep breath. “You may marry her anytime you like. She needs you, Mr. Montgomery. And the past ends tonight.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” His mother found her voice at long last. “I couldn't wish for anything better. Mrs. Cavendish has become like a sister to me. Now you all shall be family.”

“And on that,” Lorimer said as he clapped two times in quick succession, “I think everyone needs sleep and time to process our thoughts.”

The gathered family began to stir.

“Wait!” Constance called. “Yet one more matter, and a good one this time. I promise.”

“What, darling?” Robbie asked. What could possibly remain?

“While we're all still collected, I'd like to request a gift to celebrate our union.”

Mr. Beaumont smiled. “Splendid idea, my dear. Anything you wish.”

“That's my sister for certain,” Patience teased. “Gingersnap Cavendish back in fine form tonight. Thinking of presents already.”

Constance stuck out her tongue. “I would like ownership of Martha and her beau, Josiah, from the Sugarbaker plantation to take with me to Montgomery Manor.” She began to giggle.

“Mercy!” Martha fanned herself with her hand. “Now that sure would be one fine present for all of us.”

“Perfect!” shouted Mr. Beaumont. “I will see to the arrangements at once.”

Everyone stood to offer hugs and kisses of congratulations before heading off to bed.

Once the room had emptied, Robbie leaned down and whispered directly into Constance's lovely, shell-shaped ear. “And I suppose as soon as they're ours, you plan to set Martha and Josiah free.”