Authors: Elizabeth Boyce
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Historical
“And Mrs. Dennings would be nodding heartily in agreement with your damnation of these loathsome colonies,” he retorted.
Emily bit back a curt reply and Deidre smiled smugly at the exchange. Everyone sat in embarrassed silence for a moment and then Deidre rose.
“Jonathon, darling, would you escort me home?” she asked sweetly.
“Of course,” he answered, rising.
Deidre’s carriage was brought around with Jonathon’s horse tethered to it. The couple walked arm in arm down the path and climbed into the carriage. Emily felt a knot in her stomach as Deidre’s laughter floated back to them. She watched the carriage roll down the drive, then turning, found Joanna’s eyes upon her.
“It must be very difficult for you to hear such talk about your beloved England,” she said sympathetically. “We should be more sensitive. Forgive us, Emily.”
“Yes, Emily, please forgive us,” David added. “But we love Virginia as you do England, and we want to be masters of our own destiny. There is restlessness throughout the colony. People are tired of mercantilism and unfair laws. It seems the more we chafe, the more Parliament suppresses us — ” He fell silent at a look at Joanna.
“Who is Mrs. Dennings?” Joanna asked, trying to ease the tension.
“She might have been my mother-in-law,” Emily said in a tight voice as she rose. “Excuse me, I think I shall retire.”
• • •
Emily lay awake long into the night listening for Jonathon’s return. The moon was high in the early morning sky when she heard the hoofbeats come up the drive and the sound of Jonathon’s whistling. She buried her face in her pillow and cried, not really understanding why.
Chapter 4
Jonathon was away for two weeks on a brief voyage north to Manhattan Island. Emily did not want to admit to herself that she missed him, but as the days went on, she realized how accustomed she had grown to his presence. She found herself walking aimlessly through the gardens or staring blankly at the pages of a book, and an empty place nagged at her heart. He returned in the midst of the hottest week of the summer. Andrew and Emily suffered in the oppressive heat and felt listless. In the mornings, Emily kept activities light and effortless, and in the afternoons she often slept. The days ran together in an endless, scorching blur.
The house was wrapped in the stillness of a sultry afternoon. Emily stripped to a light, sleeveless cotton shift and lay on her bed avoiding movement that would make her hotter still. The stifling room, darkened by drawn drapes, became unbearable after a time, so she rose and looked reluctantly at the white blouse and pale green skirt she had discarded earlier.
Moaning, she slipped into her clothes and fastened her blouse quickly. Finding her shoes where she had kicked them lazily into a corner, she slid them on and hurried from the house.
It was an effort to breathe the heavy, humid air as she made her way to the stable. Shadow, a black mare she enjoyed riding, seemed as reluctant as Emily to exert any energy on such a sweltering day. Emily did not have the heart to put a saddle on the horse and daringly decided to ride her bareback. Shadow responded slowly to Emily’s nudge, and they ambled off to the river and rode along its bank for a time. There was no breeze to disturb the leaves, and the countryside seemed to be in a state of suspended animation. Shadow and Emily caused the only stirring in the picturesque landscape, and their pace was appropriately languid.
A stream branched off from the river and led into a copse of invitingly shady trees. Emily turned her mount toward it, and they entered a silent cathedral of towering oaks. The shade was cooler, and the water gurgled over smooth, mossy stones. Emily slipped off Shadow, walked to the stream and let the clear water wash over her fingers. The coolness of her retreat was a fleeting relief from her ride in the sunshine, for in here, too, the air was still and hot and heavy.
Emily kicked off her shoes, rolled off her stockings, and stuffed them into her shoes. She pulled the back of her skirt up between her legs, tucked it in at her waist, and then tiptoed into the stream. The icy water caused her to catch her breath, and the stones wobbled beneath her feet as she walked along, smiling in ecstasy. She bent and swished her hands in the water, then cupping them, splashed her face. The water ran in rivulets down her neck. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and soaked it, then lifting her long, thick curls, ran the wet cloth across the back of her neck. Wetting the cloth again, she unbuttoned her blouse to a daring depth and patted her handkerchief along her neck, throat, and down across her breasts. The cold water was invigorating, and Emily skipped along in the stream singing merrily.
“I have heard tales of sea nymphs, but I never thought to find one so far inland.”
Emily froze. Slowly she turned, and looking up, she saw Jonathon standing near Shadow, a grin covering his face.
“I did not know you had added voyeur to your list of virtues, Captain,” Emily tossed at him, too hot to care about her appearance. She continued her ritual with the handkerchief and ignored his presence.
“That looks quite refreshing,” he laughed, and stooping, removed his boots and stockings. He doffed his shirt and, clothed only in his breeches, joined her in the stream. He cupped his hands and poured the water over the top of his head several times. Reaching up the last time, he accidentally splashed Emily as she danced by.
“Well!” she cried and devilishly splashed him back.
“Oh, a battle, eh?” Jonathon laughed and, cupping his hands along the surface of the water, soaked her with a wide spray.
Laughing, dodging and attacking, they circled trying to outdo one another. Jonathon’s hair hung down his neck in a dripping queue as he stealthily stalked Emily. She stepped away, laughing as she tried to catch her breath. Her wet hair hung down her back in honey-colored ringlets and her blouse clung to shapely breasts that swayed and bounced enticingly. Drops of water glistened on her creamy white skin and Jonathon’s gaze was drawn to the deep cleavage revealed by her still-unbuttoned blouse. She was unaware of the lovely picture she made, concentrating only on her prey.
“Aha!” Jonathon yelled as he lunged at her and, missing, fell into the water. Emily sidestepped him deftly, laughing gaily, but she slipped on a mossy rock and lost her balance. Reaching up to break her fall, Jonathon grabbed for her waist, but she could not recover her balance and tumbled in beside him. They sat in the icy water laughing heartily, his arm still around her waist. Emily glanced up meeting his eyes and a tremor of excitement rushed through her. Did his arm tighten around her waist?
“Well, we thought we heard children and we were right,” Deidre’s voice rang out cynically.
The water-soaked couple looked up to see Deidre and Randy perched high above them on their mounts. Randy was grinning broadly, enjoying the delicious view Emily provided. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his hair stuck to his neck and forehead. Deidre looked flushed and wilted, perspiration beading on her face, her riding suit damp at the armpits and back — a stark contrast to the cool, refreshed, and sparsely clad Emily.
“Join us for a swim?” Jonathon offered.
Randy appeared ready to dismount, but Deidre grabbed his reins.
“Randolph, we are here for tea, remember?” she asked.
“Yes, Deidre dear, but our host is presently away from the manor and is showing a good deal more sense than we, as is his lovely lady.”
Emily blushed at that reference.
“Our host and his
ward
,” she stressed the word, “are acting like children, which is appropriate for one, since it is so, but not for the other,” she returned haughtily.
Randy looked appreciatively at Emily who was rising from the water with Jonathon’s assistance.
“Perhaps I am blind, Deidre, but I do not see a single child down there,” Randy replied, gesturing toward the stream. Jonathon nodded in agreement; watching while Emily attempted to discreetly button her blouse.
Deidre swung her horse around angrily and galloped off toward the house. Randy laughed and jumped from his horse.
“Do not leave yet. I have missed all the fun.”
So they gave him a proper soaking and afterward lay on the grass to dry off. Rolling toward Emily, Jonathon propped his head on one hand. Emily’s hair tumbled wildly about her on the grass and her cheeks were pink from her ride in the sun. Her bosom rose and fell gently with her breathing and she turned luminous blue eyes toward him. Jonathon wished Randy had not stayed — and, at the same time, was immensely grateful that he had.
Similar thoughts ran through Emily’s mind as she looked up into gently laughing brown eyes.
“May I beg a ride with you, Miss Wentworth? When I found an enchanting sea nymph in the forest, I slapped Neptune’s flank to send him back to the stable for relief of that hot, heavy saddle.”
Reluctantly, they all rose to return to the manor. Jonathon clasped his hands as a step for Emily to mount Shadow, and then swung up behind her. He wrapped one arm about her waist and held the reins with the other. Having nowhere else to put her hands, she gently clasped them over the hand that held her waist. She was intensely aware of his lean body pressed against hers, and this closeness caused warmth to course through her. Their thighs lay against each other’s atop the horse’s sides, and they moved together with the rhythm of its gait. Emily felt exhilarated and hated to see the afternoon end.
Deidre was furious when she saw them arrive together. Rumpled and damp, they joined her and Joanna on the veranda, and Jonathon ordered tall, cool drinks for everyone. Jonathon sat beside Emily on a bench and casually laid his arm behind her. A surge of warmth swept through Emily at his nearness and Deidre shot her a cold look. Joanna laughed when they explained their appearance; she also noticed Deidre’s disapproving frown.
“I have brought you something interesting, Jonathon,” Randy said, handing him a pamphlet from his saddlebag.
Taking it, Jonathon read the title aloud,
A Summary View of the Rights of British America.
“It is written by Thomas Jefferson, one of the Burgesses. They have convened in Williamsburg and are chafing at the interference of Parliament,” Randy explained.
“Again — the interference of Parliament!” Emily burst out. “How can a government interfere with a colony it rules?”
“Well, the House of Burgesses has completely denied the authority of Parliament over the colonies,” he replied.
“Denied the authority? Why that is insane!” she cried.
“Think of it, Em. They have tied our hands in trade, taxed so many commodities, limited our expansion — they will drain us dry and we shall never prosper,” Jonathon said.
“But we are loyal British subjects …” she sputtered. “Of course we are under the authority of Parliament.”
Deidre snorted. “You cannot expect a child to understand the politics of the day, Jonathon, darling. I am sure it is quite beyond her.”
Jonathon dismissed her with a scornful look and turned to Emily. “Em, we are loyal British subjects. No one is denying that, but Parliament is too far removed from our needs. They have suspended the legislature in New York and taken drastic measures in Boston.”
Emily was disturbed as she listened to their discussion, for they were talking of her beloved England. Jonathon offered her the pamphlet to read, and she accepted it. The restlessness that had crackled in the air in the Raleigh Tavern their first night ashore was present here. And it frightened her.
• • •
Conversation turned to more agreeable topics as they ate a light supper of eggs, corn meal, and cider. In a more affable mood, they returned to the veranda to watch the stars appear in the deep velvet night. Crickets chirped their soothing symphony as the evening enveloped the group with a welcome, cool breeze. Their voices fell softly upon the night, and candlelight flickered on their faces.
Deidre had taken Emily’s place next to Jonathon and locked her arm through his, nuzzling against him so her full bosom pressed against his arm. Emily was reminded of a cat arching its back and rubbing against a table leg. She sat across from them and, looking up, met Jonathon’s eyes. There was warmth there as he smiled at her, and her returning smile showed dimples that enchanted. She lowered her eyes and picked up the strands of conversation.
Their laughter floated on the gentle night, and their conversation rose and fell in pleasant tones. Deidre and Randy left, and the others prepared to retire. Joanna and David went up first, soon followed by Andrew. Emily felt as if she, too, should leave, but the night was so lovely… and she wanted to stay. In the silence she began to feel uncomfortable and wondered if her decision to stay had been a wise one.
“There was a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at Deidre. May I be so bold to inquire as to your thoughts, Miss Wentworth?” Jonathon asked.
Emily looked at him for a moment, and then said boldly, “She reminds me of a cat. A … silky cat.”
“Would the adjective you were searching for have something to do with her appetite? And I do not refer to food.” He laughed softly.
Emily was grateful for the blackness of the night, for then he could not see her turn scarlet. She did not answer.
“I see. Well, you are right; she is like a cat.” He became serious, “And she has particularly sharp claws, Em. Be careful of her.”
“Is that a warning, Captain?” she asked lightly. “Why ever should I need to be wary of her? What do I have that she could possibly want?”
It was Jonathon’s turn to be silent.
They sat watching the stars, pointing out different constellations and listening to the night sounds that surrounded them. It was peaceful as they talked softly. Emily felt a warmth and closeness toward Jonathon that began to wash away the resentment and suspicion that she had harbored more in her head than in her heart.
“I enjoyed our frolic in the stream today, Emily. You are quite lovely, you know.”
Emily’s heart lifted at the compliment.
“And you are quite impetuous, Captain,” she laughed. “I enjoyed it, too. Especially when you got the soaking you deserved!”