The Quaker and the Rebel (26 page)

“It’s quite rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Mr. Hunt.” Emily’s tone was crisp as she marched into the sitting room. “I would have thought you’d learned your manners by now.”

“Eavesdropping wasn’t my intention. I was enjoying the fire when I heard voices in the hall. I’m pleased to see
you
again too, Miss Harrison. Good afternoon, Miss Amite,” he added with a nod at Lila.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Lila bobbed a quick curtsey. “Perhaps you can forget what I said about William?” She pulled Emily’s coat from her hands and disappeared down the hallway.

“Thank you, Lila,” Emily said toward her retreating back.

“You look as though you’re blindfolded and standing before an executioner, Miss Harrison.”

“I’m not the least bit afraid of you.” Emily gingerly took a step in his direction. “What brings you to Martinsburg?”

“Why, I’ve come to see you, of course. That night we shared dinner changed the course of the planets for me.”

Emily glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. “Please don’t make light of such matters, especially if we might be overheard.”

“I’m not making light of anything, I assure you.” He closed the distance between them and took hold of her chin. “I was disappointed to find you gone when I returned home. You left without even the briefest letter of explanation.”

“It is you who owes me an explanation.” She pulled from his grasp and stepped around the chair, as though to place a barrier between them. “I couldn’t sleep after our eventful garden stroll. I paced the verandah and watched you ride off in the night. Perhaps to visit someone else?”

“I didn’t leave to go to another woman if that is what you are implying.” He refilled his glass at the sideboard. “I had pressing business at first light that was a good distance away. You take me for a man of leisure, but Hunt Farms needs income to survive.” Alexander held out a glass to her.

Emily shook her head. “Absolutely not. Spirits are the reason I ended up with you in the garden. What if someone had seen us kissing so indiscreetly that night? I would have been dismissed.”

“No, you would not have been. My family knows of my affection for you, Emily.” He walked over to her, leaned over the chair back, and kissed her forehead.

“Then they are aware of something I am not.” She held up her hand
to stave off interruption. “And of something I don’t wish to encourage. My behavior was a mistake, a lapse of judgment that won’t be repeated. I don’t dally in romance as a casual pastime the way you and your compatriots do.”

“My compatriots? What an odd choice of words.”

“You Southerners turn love into a sporting event. Why, I would bet you and your friends wager on romantic conquests.”

“You are the one making a wager on love, Emily.”

A blush rose up her neck. “That was an unfortunate choice of words, nothing more.”

“For a woman who has spent little time in the South, you certainly have strong opinions about how we live our lives.” Alexander’s agitation grew by the moment.

“I believe I’ve seen enough to form an opinion. One doesn’t have to wallow in the barnyard. A person usually gets the general idea from a whiff and a glance.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That is how you view our life at Hunt Farms…of my parents and me…as pigs wallowing in mud?”

Emily drew in a strangled breath and lowered her eyes. “I beg your pardon. I have no wish to insult your parents, sir. They showed me nothing but kindness during my visit.”

“Then your only desire was to insult me?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Again, I chose my words poorly. What I’m trying to say is that our divergent backgrounds make the possibility of a liaison impossible.”

“Whew, that was a mouthful! You truly are a schoolmarm from head to toe.” Alexander downed the rest of his lemonade. “I’m not sure I understand. Do you mean you find me unappealing?”

“No, Mr. Hunt. I—”

“That you thought our dinner on the terrace was a crushing bore?”

“No, but—”

“Perhaps you find my family to be porcine curmudgeons that repel you upon every acquaintance, totally inappropriate for a woman of your tender sensibilities?”

“Mr. Hunt, please allow me to speak for myself!” she hissed. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, “I find your family endearing, dinner with you more pleasurable than I could have imagined, and you to be…reasonably attractive.”

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

“Only that when I’m in your presence, I can’t seem to get a word in edgewise. That would not make for a satisfactory relationship!” Emily’s voice was close to a roar.

Suddenly, they heard someone clear their throat in the doorway. Mrs. Bennington leaned against the doorjamb for support. With her hand over her mouth, she appeared to be stifling giggles.

“Forgive me, ma’am,” murmured Emily. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice in your home.”

“Think nothing of it. Alexander often affects people that way. I’ve noticed it on several occasions before.” Straightening from the doorjamb, Mrs. Bennington leaned heavily on her cane.

Emily hurried forward to take her arm. “Please let me help you.”

“I only wished to let you know Porter has returned and dinner is about to be served.” She pulled away from Emily’s support. “Thank you, my dear, but I feel strong today.” She stepped into the hallway and then paused to look back. “Alexander, please escort Miss Harrison to the table if you can promise to be on your best behavior. Stop tormenting her. You really can be a thorn in one’s foot.”

He smiled. “I will put forth an extraordinary effort to be polite, despite my natural predisposition.” He held out his forearm to a much paler Emily. “Under those terms, may I have the honor of escorting you to the dining room?”

Emily waited until assured her employer was out of earshot before speaking. “How can you make light of this? She overheard us arguing. I am mortified—no other word describes it. Now she knows of our flirtation. I could simply die of shame right here on the spot.” Indeed, her face had taken on a deathly pallor.

“ ’Tis a natural thing for two people to fall in love. It happens all
the time. My aunt is aware of human inclinations. She’s borne two fine daughters if you recall.”

“Stop changing the subject.” Emily stomped her foot. “I don’t wish to lose my position over your folly. This sort of thing doesn’t happen
all the time
to me.”

“That could be what’s causing your discomfort. Taking moonlit strolls arm in arm, kissing in hidden alcoves, and sneaking away to be alone is much like riding a horse. If you get thrown, the best course of action is to climb back up and give it another try.” He took her hand, placed it on his forearm, and clamped his hand securely over it. “Shall we hurry along? My stomach growls for sustenance.”

“It doesn’t happen to me because I do not allow it.” Emily enunciated as though speaking to a small child. “And I most assuredly won’t get back on this particular horse.”

“We’ll just see about that.” When they were a few paces from the dining room, he stopped and lifted her chin with one finger. “Soon it will be unsafe for my aunt and uncle to remain in Martinsburg. If you stay in their employ, and I certainly hope you do, you will be moving to Hunt Farms. Perhaps then you will gain a better understanding of our lives and will see things more objectively.”

As she tried to pull away he tightened his grip and his eyes grew serious. “And if you come, Miss Harrison, I expect you to return my parents’ hospitality with like behavior, and do nothing that could cause their ruin.” He released her face and they entered the dining room for what proved to be an interminable meal—the Benningtons’ last in Martinsburg.

Alexander had much to mull over during his long ride back to Front Royal.
Riding off in the middle of the night to meet someone else?
She thought he’d ridden off to another woman. What kind of depraved soul did she think him? He could never do such a thing, not since meeting her. He hated all the lies and deception, first to his parents and now to Emily. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t tell her the truth. No matter how sweet her face or how tender her lips, she was
a Yankee, born and bred. And this Yankee was up to something. The memory of her emerging from that barn in Berryville was embedded in his mind. Yet he still hadn’t demanded an explanation for her behavior. A part of him, deep and hidden, didn’t want to know.

Emily had never been to a harvest ball, at least nothing remotely like this. Because many guests had come from afar, the event would be an all-day affair and would carry into the next day as well. An afternoon picnic was planned on the lawn with games set up for both ladies and gentlemen. Small boats, kites, and ponies would entertain the young guests under the watchful eyes of their nannies. Silent, uniformed servants set up long trestle tables in the shade and would place delicious delicacies on them throughout the day. Guests could partake of food and beverages whenever they chose. Ladies usually napped in the late afternoon, while gentlemen could find coffee and brandy in the cool interior of Mr. Hunt’s study. A light supper would be set out on the back portico for anyone hungry, and then the ball would begin at nine o’clock. A formal dinner would be served in the dining salon at midnight. Thereafter, revelers could dance until dawn, retire to guest rooms if they wished, or begin their journey home. A meal would be served at noon in the dining room for guests who had stayed overnight.

With amazement Emily watched families arrive in handsome broughams throughout the morning, while young men rode in on fine steeds. Wagons followed behind carrying grooms, valets, and maids, along with the trunks of formal attire for the partygoers and pastries and wine for their hosts. Neighbors who had come to Emily’s home had worn one outfit the entire day, and their gift to her parents was usually a bowl of snap beans. As buggies stopped at the front steps, Emily greeted the new arrivals and then carried food down to the cool, subterranean kitchen. Maids arranged pastries and canapés on silver trays, which had been accented with fresh flowers or sprays of ferns.
Trays would be brought up to the appropriate luncheon, supper, after-ball dinner, or breakfast.

“How do these women manage to keep such slim figures, considering the number of meals served during social events?” she whispered to Lila as they carried down another rum cake.

Lila rolled her eyes. “These ladies don’t eat much, Emily. They pick a little at this or taste a little of that.” Lila demonstrated using two fingers and an imaginary food. “They never eat until they’re full.”

“What happens if they sample something they really like?” Emily slipped a strawberry tart from a tray. She broke it in two, popped half into her mouth, and then held out the other half.

Lila glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then popped it in her mouth. “Doesn’t make any difference if they think it tastes like heaven itself. They would never eat much and risk being thought of as common folk.” Lila pressed the backs of her fingers to her mouth. “I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken. That sounds wasteful and silly to me, putting out an array of food for people to just push around their plates with a fork. That’s not what the Lord intended.” Emily slipped a layered petit four off the tray. This time she wasn’t so lucky.

“And the Good Lord didn’t intend for you two to be gobbling up sweets down here.” Beatrice’s booming voice nearly lifted them from their shoes. “Shoo, Miss Harrison. The picnic is out on the lawn. Lila, your mama needs help at the tables.” The cook shook her long white apron at them with a scowl.

“Doesn’t it bother you that you must work today while I’m permitted to behave as a guest?” asked Emily on their way up the steps. “We are both paid employees.”

Lila pulled the petit four from her friend’s fingers and devoured it in two bites. “Not in the least.” She skipped off toward the buffet.

But it bothered Emily. Even if this had been Lila’s day off, she wouldn’t have been allowed to mingle among the guests and enjoy the festivities.

After a short search, Emily found Mrs. Bennington walking the grounds with a woman wearing an outrageous hat. It was broad-brimmed in a bright shade of blue and had several ostrich feathers sticking from the ribbon. Lifting two glasses of lemonade off of a waiter’s tray, Emily carried them to the ladies. “Good afternoon,” she murmured in a musical tone. “Are you thirsty?”

“Ah, Emily, there you are. Let’s sit somewhere in the shade.” Mrs. Bennington pointed toward the rose garden.