Sweet Deception Regency 07 - The Divided Hearts (4 page)

“The carriage is right over there,” Simon
said, chuckling as his gaze swung between the two young people.
“We’re off, Nathanael.”

“Good day to you, Simon,” Nate said, sitting
straighter in his saddle. His blue eyes were guarded as he swept a
bow to Judith. “Your servant, Lady Judith.”

Judith bobbed a barely civil curtsy, eyes
flashing a look of disapproval as she walked with her father
towards the carriage. Simon turned at the last, flashing a wicked
grin in the mounted man’s direction.

His face an unreadable mask, Nate sat his
horse, watching the progress of the swinging black skirt.
Gold-flecked hazel eyes, he enthused in satisfaction. There was no
doubt about it, Judith Hallowell was a beauty. An English beauty,
my lad, Nate thought to himself. There’s danger here.

Nate was aware that he was not a free agent
who could dally with every well-turned ankle. It was on the long
voyage home from England that he had realized that his heart
belonged entirely to America. Even then he was aware that the
situation between the two countries might lead once again to war.
And if it came to that he would declare for America. But when he
sought to be of service, his assignment was less, and yet more,
than he had anticipated. His task was to gather information; his
usefulness depending on his ability to conceal his intelligence
beneath a mask of effete boredom.

So far he had been able to play the part of
the foppish Bellingham. He had begun his charade just after
returning from Cambridge as a defense against the marriageable
ladies who swarmed around him. Then he had hidden behind a cold
mask of arrogance and a sharp, acerbic wit. Later he was able to
transform that behavior into a more outrageous form of
playacting.

Lady Judith, as an Englishwoman, was
definitely a danger to him. For a moment, when he stared into her
eyes he had been caught in a spell of enchantment so strong that it
had been an effort to remember the part he must play. He sensed
intelligence, sensitivity and passion in this golden girl. He
should avoid her; continued association would involve a
considerable risk. But with a clear remembrance of her flashing,
disdainful eyes, Nate suspected that she might be worth the danger.
His full lips widened in a wolfish grin as Simon’s carriage pulled
away.

: :

“Why didn’t Letty warn me?” Judith asked in
exasperation as she settled against the bench seat. “ How can you
tolerate such a fop, Father?”

“Now, now. Mustn’t be hasty in your
judgment. Nate’s a good lad,” Simon said, his eyes kindling at what
must be a private joke.

“He’s hardly a boy, Father. He must be
thirty, at least,” Judith snapped, annoyed at her interest in the
outrageous man.

“Twenty-nine. And unmarried. Quite a catch
for all the girls I see hanging on his every word.”

“I can not believe that American women
should be so desperate to marry,” Judith sniffed. “You always told
me that American men were quite the contrast to the London
courtcards.”

Pacifically her father dropped the subject,
pointing out places of interest as they made their way toward town.
The excitement of her first view of Newport erased Nathanael
Bellingham from her mind and Judith bubbled over with questions
about the houses and buildings.

“As you can see there’s a great deal of new
construction. Newport may never regain her preeminence as a port
but she’ll always be a beautiful city,” Simon said, the deep timbre
of his voice rich with pride.

Now that she was actually in Newport, Judith
remembered much of the history of the town that she had learned
over the years from her father. Prior to the War of Independence,
all the profitable sea lanes led to Newport. The city prospered
through its involvement in the triangular trade of molasses, rum
and slaves. When the British occupied the city, many of the
citizens left. Many never returned. Judith’s grandfather had been a
shipbuilder before the war. Afterward he became a merchant in
partnership with his son Simon who doubled the business as more and
more markets opened up.

“Will we be driving through the main part of
town?” Judith asked, craning her neck for a better view of one of
the buildings.

“You’ll be seeing all the sights soon
enough,” Simon said as he patted the excited girl’s hands. “It’s
only a few structures compared to London and I’m sure you’ll be
bored with it all.”

“No, I shan’t,” Judith promised. “Besides
I’ve come to visit you and see my birthplace. That’s excitement
aplenty.”

Judith was delighted with everything they
passed and when they pulled up in front of Simon’s house, she sat
in the carriage examining the wood-framed house with the gambrel
roof.

It was a large house, the clapboard painted
a uniform soft brown. The many-paned windows were trimmed simply
and painted brown to match the house. In startling contrast, the
paneled double doors shone a brilliant white. Above the door was a
plain triangular trim with the only ornamentation, a deep-set
floral carving, in the center.

“What are the flowers?” Judith asked,
squinting up at the door.

“It’s called the four lily motif. The early
settlers were much taken with the lifeless looking bulbs out of
which came the most exotic blooms. For them it represented rebirth.
You’ll see the lilies everywhere,” Simon laughed. “That and shells
are very popular in Newport.”

“It’s much different than I expected.”

“I hope you’re not disappointed,” he said,
jumping down to stand beside the carriage. He stared at the house
trying to gauge his daughter’s reactions. “This was originally
called a stone-ender house because of the double fireplace set in
the end wall. When I brought your mother here, there were only two
rooms on the main floor, divided by a movable partition.
Unfortunately Elizabeth was not accustomed to living in such
primitive conditions. About ten years ago I added a new wing to the
place which doubled the size of the house. So now I’ve plenty of
room for you and any assorted orphans you may pick up during your
stay.”

“Surely you’re not giving me license,
Father,” Judith teased, taking Simon’s hand as she descended to the
cobblestones.

“Heaven forbid!” he shouted in feigned
horror. He was silent as he looked down into his daughter’s face,
his forehead furrowed in question. “It’s not the kind of place
you’re used to, Judith.”

Judith caught the apprehensive tone in
Simon’s voice and chuckled to reassure him. “Never fear, you old
fusspot. I like the look of your house. It fits well with the tang
of salt in the air and the clean smell of everything. I shan’t miss
the sooty air of London.”

“Well, come along, child. Let’s not gawk on
the doorstep,” Simon said, his voice raspy with unaccustomed
emotion. If only her mother had been so generous in her judgment,
he thought wistfully. But then of course Judith was only here for a
visit. Perhaps Elizabeth could have borne it, if she hadn’t felt
trapped. Opening the door, he led her inside.

Judith understood why her father was always
anxious to return home. The house exuded a simple warmth that
filled her with peace and security. Around the central hallway
there were four rooms, the largest of which was a drawing room that
Judith liked the best.

Instead of the silken walls she was used to,
white pine sheathing paneled the walls. Broad white pine boards
formed the floor and shone around the edges of an Oriental carpet
of blue and beige which set the color scheme for the room. Blue and
white Delft tiles framed the fireplace and were set in a double
line across the hearth. The mantle itself was of burnished mahogany
with inlays of more exotic woods on either end. On the left was a
tree of life and on the right was a cornucopia overflowing with
fruit. In front of the fireplace, two easy chairs faced each other,
upholstered in a deep blue damask.

She knew from Simon that the majority of his
furniture was American made. He had always extolled the
cabinetmakers in Boston and in Newport. The style of the furniture
was similar to what she was accustomed to and yet there were
differences that gave each piece an individuality which impressed
her. The Americans had not slavishly copied European styles; they
had added to them, reshaping the familiar designs.

From comments Simon had made over the years,
and of course the lifestyle that her mother was able to maintain,
Judith knew that her father was wealthy. But the quiet elegance and
the small but priceless objects scattered around the room spoke of
an income far greater than she had expected. She would have to be
careful in her judgments in this new country. Americans apparently
did not need the ostentatious display that would have been
de
rigueur
in England.

Simon showed her through the rooms, pleased
by her interest and obvious admiration for his home. Occasionally
he paused to give her the history of an object, taking pleasure in
showing her new things. Judith had always been fascinated by his
stories. As he talked she began to have a better idea of the kind
of culture she would find in America. Somehow she had expected a
poor replica of English life but was finding instead a vibrancy
which delighted her. By the time they arrived in the dining room,
her head was buzzing as she tried to reevaluate her thinking.

“There’s so much wood, Father,” she said,
running her hand over the smooth paneled sheathing.

“You forget, girl, that most of the people
who came to America brought little with them. Wood was one of the
commodities that this new world had in abundance. Practically
everything is made of wood. Houses, buckets, barrels, eating
utensils. The only difference between the poor and the rich is the
shine on the wood.” Simon waggled his eyebrows then grimaced as he
caught the amusement in Judith’s eyes. “I know. I’m spouting like
an Oxford don. Put it down to national pride.”

“Don’t stop,” Judith said, hugging his arm.
“I will be able to regale the habitués of Almack’s with all that
I’ve learned. Granted I will be ostracized for being a
bluestocking, but it will have been worth it for the sensation I
will cause.”

“Then I will have to cudgel my brains for
fascinating titbits. Ah, I have just the thing.”

Simon pulled one of the side chairs away
from the wall and turned it so the plain back was facing
Judith.

“One of our Newport cabinetmakers always
dreamed of traveling to the Far East. He had a brother in the China
trade who filled the lad’s head with stories of wondrous animals
and exotic birds. He made these chairs because he thought I would
appreciate his little joke.” Simon placed his hand in the empty
space between the side rail of the chair and the slat back. “Can
you see the outline?”

Judith focused her eyes on the empty space
and began to see what Simon meant. There, on either side of the
center, was the profile of some exotic bird with a ferocious sharp
beak. It was like seeing one of those illusion pictures where if
you looked at it differently another object appeared as if by
magic. She laughed in appreciation as she followed Simon to a door
leading to the back of the house.

“Originally the kitchen was just an attached
lean-to. When I added to the rest, I incorporated a more modern
kitchen. Mrs. Baker was delighted,” Simon said, lowering his voice
to just above a whisper. “ Come out to the kitchen and meet the
redoubtable lady. I don’t imagine she’ll mind my intruding on her
province just this once.”

From the things that her father had told her
about Timothy’s wife, Judith knew that Mrs. Baker ran Simon’s house
with the flexibility of a prison warder. She was a Londoner, wooed
and won by Timothy on one of his trips. Usually when either man
mentioned Mrs. Baker, their voices contained a note of awed respect
that bordered on fear. Her father opened the swinging door in the
dining room wall and Judith hurried to make the acquaintance of
“The Dragon of Newport” as her father referred to his
housekeeper.

“Mrs. Baker?” Simon called tentatively. “I’d
like you to meet my daughter Judith.”

“G’day to ye, Miss Judith,” chirped a tiny
voice.

Judith’s eyes widened in disbelief as a
bird-like woman, scurried around the oak table, wiping her floured
hand on a voluminous apron that almost swallowed her up. She had
been prepared for an implacable giantess and instead found herself
looking down at a wizened brownie. As Mrs. Baker bobbed a tiny
curtsy, Judith smothered her laughter and managed to choke out,
“How do you do, ma’am.”

“It’s me very own pleasure, miss,” Mrs.
Baker said in her sharp little voice.

Listening to the old woman, Judith could
find nothing intimidating, yet her father cringed near the door as
though ready to bolt at the least sign of trouble. For herself,
Judith thought that the woman might welcome another female in the
house.

“Master Hallowell’s been looking forward to
your visit.”

“And, I too, ma’am.” Judith sniffed the air,
her mouth watering at the smell of bread which filled the kitchen.
“I’m delighted to meet you after all these years. Every time Father
came to England we had to listen to how much he missed your
cooking.”

“Kettle’s on the hob. I’ll fix you sumthin’
after you’ve had a good wash.”

To Judith’s amusement, Mrs. Baker pushed
open the door in obvious dismissal. So much for welcoming another
woman in the house. Without raising her voice, the housekeeper gave
the impression that the kitchen was her territory. Silently, Judith
followed her father until they stood once more in the dining room
staring at the gently swinging door as it closed with a gentle
swish. Judith’s eyes lifted to her father’s face, taking in the
look of harassed resignation. The humor of the situation caught
them at the same time and like children they covered their mouths
to stifle their laughter. Weakly Judith leaned against her father,
wiping away tears of mirth as he led her toward the stairs.