Elizabeth Meyette (9 page)

“My goodness, Brentwood Manor is lovely!” she said. She turned back to him and offered her hand. “I am Jennifer Sutton, David’s niece.”

Andrew took her hand and began to shake it, then half-bowed awkwardly over it refraining from kissing her hand lest he lose all control. He straightened, recovering his composure, and smiled at her.

“I am Andrew Wentworth, and I do not know of a simple way to explain how I am related to David,” he laughed. Their eyes held for a moment, and then each looked away and moved apart. Glancing back at her, Andrew noticed how her cinnamon-colored silk waistcoat followed the shape of her figure, the stripes in the fabric gently curving around her bosom and narrowing at her waist. The ivory lace that trimmed the bodice delicately revealed the swelling of her breasts, though not buxom, shapely. He again felt that stirring that unsettled him throughout his entire being.

Joanna entered the hall, arms outstretched.

“Jenny! You are safely arrived,” she said as she wrapped the soaking girl in an embrace.

“Aunt Joanna, you will get drenched,” the girl protested, laughing and trying to save her aunt.

“No matter, dear, it is worth seeing for myself that you are here and safely arrived,” Joanna said. She stood back and took in the girl from head to toe.

“My goodness, Jenny, you have grown since I last saw you! Why, you are a young woman now,” Joanna exclaimed.

“It has been five years since we last saw each other, Aunt Joanna, and much has happened since then,” her niece replied. “Where is William? I am so excited to meet my new cousin. And where are Uncle Jonathon and his new wife?” Jenny glanced at Andrew, her eyes alight with humor. “I have met Andrew,” she said.

Andrew felt a flush rise to his face unbidden as he stammered, “Yes … yes, we have met.”

Emily entered, taking in the scene and subduing a smile.

“You must be Jenny,” she said taking the girl’s hand. “I am Emily. How wonderful to have you here at Brentwood Manor.”

“Thank you for allowing me to visit, Mrs. Brentwood,” Jenny replied.

“Please call me Emily, for we are close in age and though not related by blood, certainly by our love for Joanna and David,” Emily replied.

“When is your baby expected to arrive?” Jenny asked having noticed Emily’s condition.

“In August,” Emily said, smiling and unconsciously smoothing the fabric across her abdomen.

“Let me show you to your room so that you can change into some dry clothes,” Joanna said. “Your trunk should be up there by now.”

The three women began to climb the winding staircase as Andrew stood captivated, watching them ascend. As they disappeared along the second story corridor, he shook his head slightly as if awaking from a trance. Somehow he knew his life would never be the same.

• • •

Jenny’s presence brought a sense of joy to Brentwood Manor that helped assuage the sadness of Jonathon’s absence and ever-present peril. Her gentle humor and quick wit provided lively discussions at supper, and her comprehension of politics surprised all. Andrew looked forward to these gatherings and his seat across the table from her provided the perfect vantage point for studying her innocuously. Captivated by her beauty, he could scarcely endure it when her face became animated as she talked. When she smiled, a dimple graced one cheek, and not having a twin on the other cheek made it maddeningly appealing. Her eyes, at first judged as gray, actually transformed to green, gray or palest blue depending on the color of her gown or riding habit. And when he was close enough to her, and able to maintain such closeness, he noticed flecks of gold that accentuated her eye color, adding depth that threatened to engulf him and that left him feeling as if his soul had been laid open.

As they sat at table on this mild May evening, Jenny informed David of recent events in the North.

“In March, Brigadier General John Thomas, under orders from General Washington, secretly led troops that moved more than a dozen cannons from Fort Ticonderoga into the fortification at Dorchester Heights. General Howe hoped to destroy them from the British fleet, but storms prevented the attack. He fled to British ships in Boston Harbor and British ships fled to Halifax. Many Loyalists followed, and patriots celebrated the victory,” Jenny explained.

“I know the people of Boston have chafed at the occupation of the British for many years,” David replied. “It was an outstanding victory for which I hear General Washington was awarded a medal by the Continental Congress.”

“Indeed, he was,” Jenny answered. “But there is still much to do. Washington hurried to New York fearing a British attack there; Loyalists are being disarmed across the colonies.” Her eyes flicked to Emily who was speaking to Joanna. Deidre noticed the glance. “North Carolina has empowered its delegates to vote for independence.”

“It is coming, Jenny; it is but a matter of time. We are awaiting news from France for financial support,” David said.

David enjoyed supper conversations with Jenny. His brother Edward had obviously kept her informed about the political climate in Boston. In addition to her knowledge, her perceptions of the political ramifications were astute.

Andrew had been unable to contribute to the conversation due to his complete absorption in Jenny. He had mumbled a reply or affirmation now and again, but seldom followed the thread of discussion. Jenny turned her eyes, pale blue this evening to reflect her lavender gown, toward Andrew and bestowed the charming half-smile he was becoming familiar with.

“Andrew, what do you think Virginia will do?” she asked.

Andrew frantically tried to recall the most recent topic of conversation. He thought “independence” had been mentioned and summoned his courage to respond hoping he would not appear foolish. Or besotted — which he was.

“I believe Virginia will vote for independence,” he stated, hoping that a firm response would conceal his confusion.

“Well said,” Jenny laughed. “And, Emily, what do you think?”

Emily and Joanna had rejoined the conversation earlier, and were current on the discussion.

“Virginia will vote for independence; I have no doubt,” she replied.

Jenny studied her face and believed she was being truthful. She smiled at Emily and returned her gaze to Andrew.

“I believe you promised me a game of whist this evening, Andrew. Who will join us?” she asked.

Andrew’s heart skipped when she said his name. It did not help that her gaze was so direct. He smiled at her, disguising his discomposure and rose to help her with her chair.

• • •

Jonathon awoke to the swaying rhythm of the
Destiny
. He was aboard his ship, lying in his cabin, reclaiming his life. Each day aboard the
Destiny
was a tonic for him. Breathing deeply the sea air, he filled his lungs and felt the energy that the saltwater mist infused into his limbs. Gates had said he was astounded at his recovery knowing it was a tincture of sea air, passion for Emily and odium of Deidre that accelerated his healing. Jonathon concurred, for all three possessed him.

Rising from his bed, he smoothed the covers and donned tan breeches and a linen shirt. He shoved his feet into his boots and strode to the door tying his shirt as he went. Pain in his left thigh reminded him that the healing was not complete, but he kneaded the muscle and continued to the deck.

Men scrambled about readying the ship for departure, murmuring, “G’morning, Captain,” as he passed. Looking eastward to gauge the sunrise, he spotted Gates talking to crew members across the deck. As he approached, the men smiled, tipped their caps at him and returned to their duties.

“When do we sail, Captain?” Gates asked.

“Within the hour, Gates. I want to reach New York as swiftly as possible, take care of business there and return to Virginia immediately.” Jonathon leaned against the rail looking out to sea. He knew the peril of this trip, for British ships had been threatening all along the coast, and New York in particular, since they fled Boston. He stretched his shoulders and arms attempting to strengthen the muscles and flout the pain that persisted there as a result of hanging by his wrists for hours at the flogging post. He grimaced remembering his torture at the hands of the British. This revolution was as personal as patriotic for him now. With the additional revelation of Emily’s treatment at the hands of Captain Walters, personal reasons had surpassed patriotic.

The thought of Emily brought the familiar anguish and desire that caught him in the gut and spread throughout his being. Remembering her body against his, the silkiness of her skin and the scent of jasmine that wafted to him when they embraced brought heat that started at his belly and threatened to embarrass if this line of thought continued. He had promised to be there when their baby was born, and he would move heaven and earth to make it so. It was early May, and their child was expected in August. He most certainly could make this trip to New York and return in adequate time to arrive at Brentwood Manor for the birth. The difficulty would be avoiding the British in the Virginia countryside.

Preparations accelerated as they readied to set sail. Jonathon was eager to be at sea again, his first voyage since the fateful one to Norfolk that almost cost his life. He loved the rolling motion beneath his feet that caused him to adjust his gait to match the
Destiny’s
movements, almost like lovers moving together, coupling and undulating. At one time in his life his ship had been enough, but Emily changed all that, for nothing in his life made his heart swell to bursting as she did.

There was risk in this trip, for many British leaders such as Lord Dunmore and General Howe had fled to ships, and the British were launching attacks from their fleet. The Continental Congress had authorized privateer raids on British ships, so encountering a single ship would allow for confrontation and delay their voyage; Jonathon wanted no delays. Caution and alacrity were imperative to the safety of the
Destiny
. Clear skies promised a good sailing day, and Jonathon knew he could reach New York swiftly barring any unforeseen encounters.

• • •

Andrew brushed Neptune until he glowed, black satin in the sunlight. Jonathon’s stallion stood sixteen hands and was broad across the shoulders. Andrew loved riding him, feeling the power of the horse beneath him as they galloped across the fields. In Jonathon’s absence, few had been riding Neptune as he was a challenge to command, but Andrew had a way with him, and Neptune was most compliant under his rein.

They had just returned from a vigorous run, and both felt exhilarated. As Andrew groomed him, Neptune snorted in gratitude and nuzzled his cheek. Andrew whispered softly as he tended to the horse. As often happened, the image of Jenny floated into his consciousness. He thought about her waking and sleeping, and his dreams were embarrassingly vivid. He warmed at memories of her laughing across the table at supper, teasing him at a game of whist. Often his insides seemed to turn to liquid when she was near. He wondered what it would feel like to take her hand into his, or even more, to press his lips to hers.

“Whatever you are pondering, Andrew, I believe Neptune would prefer it be about his care,” Deidre spoke from behind him.

Startled, he turned to face her. She stood against the sun, so he squinted and shaded his eyes with his hand. She stood arms akimbo, her eyes hooded. Lace fell low against her breasts, revealing deep décolletage, and her green silk gown was laced tightly to enhance her small waist. Still recovering from the warmth that thoughts of Jenny brought, Deidre’s voluptuous form threw Andrew off balance. He stumbled back a couple of steps and then recovered.

“Forgive me, Andrew, for I did not mean to frighten you. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that I was compelled to speak,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“I was just startled, Deidre; no harm done,” Andrew said and resumed brushing Neptune.

Deidre approached the horse and ran her hand along its muzzle. The horse nickered and drew back.

“Such a spectacular horse,” Deidre murmured stroking its flank, keeping her eyes on Andrew. “So powerful, so strong, so masculine.”

“Yes, he is all of that,” Andrew said, smiling at the horse and feeding it oats.

Andrew took the reins and led Neptune into the stables.

“Neptune seems to have taken a liking to you. There are few who dare to ride him, but I imagine you let him know who the master is,” she said following him. Dust and bits of hay danced in the shaft of sunlight that slanted across the center walkway of the stables. They passed through it and continued to Neptune’s stall at the back of the stables. Andrew led the stallion in and added fresh hay to the floor. Closing the gate to the stall, he turned, surprised to find Deidre immediately behind him. She looked up into his eyes and held him with her gaze.

“You have grown into a very handsome man since you arrived at Brentwood Manor,” she purred. “I imagine Jennifer is quite attracted to you, Andrew.”

At the sound of Jenny’s name, Andrew felt warmth spread through him, infusing his face with scarlet. Deidre chuckled.

“Just as I thought. You are quite taken with David’s niece,” she said.

Andrew looked past her trying to focus on anything but the increasing arousal he felt thinking of Jenny and being so near Deidre. His jaw twitched.

“Oh, I see you do not wish to discuss it. I understand completely, Andrew. You are too much a gentleman to reveal such personal emotions,” she said, her voice low and enticing. She placed her hands on his chest surprised at the muscles she felt beneath his lawn shirt. Moving closer, she rose up on tiptoe, pressed her breasts against him and whispered her next words against his ear.

“When you are ready to take her, you will want to be experienced in the art of love. I can help you with that, Andrew. You are a man, but you lack the knowledge that a man must possess. When you are ready, come to me.” Sighing against his ear, her breath was hot against his skin.

A jumble of emotions took hold of him, but Andrew stood rigid and still. As Deidre backed away from him, Andrew stared straight ahead, not meeting her eyes. She patted his face, turned and walked away swaying her hips provocatively.