Saving The Marquise's Granddaughter (26 page)

A man’s low chuckle rumbled from an adjacent room.

“Guest for Mistress Sarah.” The servant wheezed, turned his bleary eyes on Johan for a moment, and then moved stiffly toward the back of the house.

Johan stood, transfixed, in the entryway, staring at the massive stairway that curved upward. Wall coverings decorated the space, as did oil paintings on either side of the wide hallway. Aromatic bowls of cinnamon sticks and vanilla beans wafted his favorite scents toward him.

Sarah appeared as two paneled doors slid into the wall to his right. Dressed in a beribboned child’s gown, his little cousin curtsied, and then giggled, lifting her fingers to cover her mouth. He stared. How on earth would he ever be able to provide for her as the colonel had? She ought not become accustomed to such finery. “Where is Suzanne?”

“She thought you might come. Wyatt gave her one of Mistress Christy’s dresses to wear.”

Suzanne had been accustomed to such a lavish home. She’d lost not only her family but her station in life. Would coming here open those old wounds? And to be brought here as a servant. He’d work harder to repay Suzanne’s fee.

Scott swung an arm up in the air. “There she is!”

Johan swallowed. He was so grateful Mama had forced Suzanne to wear one of her aunt’s beautiful gowns. If at this moment, he’d only first viewed this fine lady elegantly attired, he’d have run from the house. He was undeserving of her. Instead, he savored the sight of her dressed in a fancy rose-colored gown, a wide ribbon tied at her slender waist. She paused in front of him and he took her soft hand in his, raised it to his mouth, and kissed it.

Sarah joined them. “Wyatt is getting me a pony!”

Suzanne spoke first. “Sarah! You’ll refer to him as Mister Scott.” She leaned into Johan on the sofa they shared and looked up at him in question.

His gut clenched. By the time he could afford to purchase a pony, Sarah would be too old for one. She’d need a horse, especially because she was growing tall like that side of the family. “Sarah, your Aunt Suzanne is correct. And you cannot accept such a gift.” He’d talk to Scott about this. Why would he tell the child such a thing? “Let’s talk about some good news I had, Sarah.”

But the light had gone out of her blue eyes.

They talked for an hour about what he’d heard about family members who had moved outside of Philadelphia and closer to the region where many of the Palatinate families wished to settle—in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

Suzanne’s drawn face and questions about Indian uprisings and the difficulty of frontier life only furthered dampened Sarah’s mood.

When the clock chimed, the servant came for Sarah and escorted her upstairs. The child almost ran from them—her sweet face twisted into anxiety.

~*~

“Johan, I have a request.” Suzanne pointed to the portrait of a dark-haired boy. “Can we pray for safe travel for Christy and his son as they return? They’re at a frontier fort.”

Not far from an area the French army sought to fortify.

“Ja.” Johan wrapped his fingers around hers and stepped in closer. His breath ruffled the wisps of hair on her forehead. “Father God, bring this child and his father home safely. Put your angels around him to guard them, to guide and protect them.”

Suzanne peeked up from beneath her eyelashes to watch Johan’s lips move. His eyes were pressed shut so hard that the muscles above them twitched. She resisted the urge to stroke the golden shadow of beard on his face. What a good man, a godly man. Her heart overflowed with love for him. And of all the times to want so bad to have just one kiss…

“Bring peace to this household as they await their master’s safe return. And, Lord…”

Suzanne heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Please help me, help Suzanne, to find our way. I ask this in Your own Son’s name. Amen.”

Johan’s fervent prayer stirred her from head to toe, but what did he mean about the two of them?

“I need to tell you something.” He cleared his throat. “I saw a man resembling the one who married us.”

Her hands began to shake. “Oui?” Why did his brow furrow?

“Suzanne, he may be a surveyor. Not a priest.” His voice was low.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw a man who greatly resembled him. And I was told he’s a surveyor in the Jerseys.”

“But you don’t know for sure?” Why did he sound as though he was hedging about a wedding he’d insisted had happened?

“If that is so, you may be free to choose another as your spouse. Someone more appropriate.”

How? Her reputation would be ruined after staying at the inn with him for so long. Heat sped up her chest to her neck. Her only recourse would be to go far from here, to New York where she was supposed to have fled, and hope that story didn’t follow her. And that was the term he used in his writing—she wasn’t suitable for him.

Conflicted emotions washed over Johan’s face. “If that’s what we discover, I’d want to make things right for you.”

He doesn’t want me.
He was tired of all the trouble she’d caused. The deaths of his cousins, these few remaining relatives, had finally been more than he could bear.

She straightened, pursed her lips, and took a steadying breath.

Johan’s visage became stern. “I’ll take care of Sarah’s needs as best I can.”

Alone? Yes, he would. She blamed him not one whit for no longer wishing to provide for her. To be burdened by her.

He gave her a curt nod. “I should go.”

“Oui.” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.

Johan stood and swatted his hat so hard against his thigh that he pushed the stiff felted wool through to the other side. “I’m not saying it right.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

His stomach gurgled and he placed a hand over it. “Not used to such heavy meals anymore.”

A surveyor he now claims.
This man had insisted they were married by a priest and had shared quarters with her for weeks. Her own gut churned.

“I’m working long days but I’ll get to the truth.”

She bit her tongue. Now she, too, spent long days watching his cousin and providing oversight for the kitchen and household staff. “I need to check on Sarah. Excuse me.
Bon nuit
.”

Head lowered, Johan departed.

Suzanne went to Sarah’s room to check on her. How the child must miss her family. Despite being much older, Suzanne still mourned
Maman, yearned for her comfort. The child’s gentle whiffling breaths contrasted sharply with Suzanne’s imagination of the child’s family dying from the horrible disease that had almost claimed her. The seasoning, it was called, and Suzanne and Sarah both survived it.

She knelt beside Sarah’s bed on the oval wool rug. Johan’s heartfelt prayer moved her in so many ways. She loved him. Even if she hadn’t begun to remember the many ways he’d cared for her, she’d have fallen in love with him again. But if they hadn’t been properly wed, could she accept his offer to make things right—to once again have him give up his dreams for her? No. Guy could take her some place where the facts of her passage to the colonies wouldn’t be known. She’d pray for all of them.

“Father God, protect Mr. Christy and his son. Bring them home. Help me be a good mother to Sarah…” Tears filled her eyes. “And Lord, if you wish Johan to be free of his obligation to me, I wish for you to make that clear.” Sobs terminated her prayer.

If I have drawn you together, what do your differences matter?

Her flesh prickled as she looked around the room, almost expecting to see the Source of that message, as the lone candle glowed steady in the darkness.

25

Johan lifted the quill from the inkstand and carefully began his letter.
Dear Mama and Papa, I have bad news. Noel’s family died enroute. Sarah alone survived the trip. She’s in good care. Please write and tell me how you are. Do you have food for the winter? Is there still game in the forest after the fire? Please send your messages to me here in care of Master Vann.

He tapped his fingers on the letter, careful not to touch the drying ink. Would this news distress his parents? Would it upset them to the point that they would cross that ocean that almost claimed Suzanne’s life?

Grasping the edge of the paper, he brought it to the fire and dropped it in, the edges curling inward. He began again. Once he’d finished the missive, he placed it in an envelope and sealed it. Before he departed the inn, he left it with the keepers to post for him. Then he walked to work.

The day began well with Johan quickly completing his assignments.

His boss should be pleased. Vann joined him and settled on the bench adjacent. “Where are your admirers today, Johan?” the blacksmith teased.

Seated next to the owner, Johan continued work on the leather goods brought from the tannery. He wanted to show Vann how an application of an ointment he’d concocted worked better as both a preservative and for appearance. The stuff stank terribly, but gave a lovely shine. “Who is that you mention, sir?”

“The ladies who now frequent our shop.” Vann grinned. “Your beauty enriches my pocket.”

“My beauty?” Tipping his head back, he laughed. “Nein, my brother is the handsome one.” He hoped Nicholas and Greta would get word to him soon. Might they come here?

“Speaking of beauty, how are things working out for your wife?”

His neck stiffened. “I don’t know.”
She hasn’t sent for me.
Suzanne required proof that she was married to him. In the absence of evidence, would she consider another suitor?

“Is it true that Mister Scott put her and Sarah upstairs in that big house?”

“Ja.” Johan swallowed. He hadn’t thought about how that might appear to others. “He has been most kind.” Overly so.

“And Colonel Christy hasn’t returned from the fort?”

“No.” A handsome single man, an impulsive one, there with his wife. A wealthy plantation owner. And Scott was leaving soon. Would he run off with her?

He wanted to love Suzanne as God’s word commanded—to put her needs before his own. Should he release her to another? But what of her reputation, since they had presented themselves as man and wife? If she left Philadelphia, if her brother arrived and took her to New France, he could establish her in a fine home and with society of her own aristocratic background. Suzanne could find a husband who was her equal. A fine gentleman.

As far as himself, his fondest wish was to own much property; a farm with a forge or a tannery, and to have a large family. How had he ever imagined Suzanne would want that, too? He swallowed. But his dreams fulfilled without her? They’d be nothing.

“Tonight I’ll go see them.”

Vann clapped him on the shoulder. “Leave early today. Go get cleaned up for her.”

“Ja. That’s a good idea.” And he’d tell Suzie what he’d heard about land in the Shenandoah Valley.

~*~

Sarah skipped into the parlor, where Johan waited. Fading purple and yellow fingerprints still marred the child’s pale face but couldn’t hide her wide grin. “Uncle Johan!” She stuck a finger in her mouth and looked up at Suzanne, who followed her into the cozy room.

“Uncle Johan? Don’t you mean cousin?” By Suzanne’s silence, her lips pressed together into a thin line, he presumed this was her idea. “Do you want to call me Uncle Johan?”

The little girl nodded. “Come sit at the game table with me and Aunt Suzanne.” Sarah led him to the cherry wood table. The dark wood in the room shone and smelled of lemon oil.

He was afraid to touch the shiny surface.

Sarah, Suzanne, and he played cards for a while. His beloved kept her lips pursed and continued to cast him accusing looks. They switched to games of charade, Sarah’s antics making him laugh until he cried.

Wyatt Scott joined them, bringing a steaming pot of hot chocolate and tiny ceramic cups to pour the liquid into and a tray of treats.

Suzanne finally began to relax. “Merci, Monsieur Scott.” She tipped her head and gave Scott a slow smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

The sun dipped low over the trees that bordered the property when the hall clock chimed.

Johan took Sarah’s small hands in his. “Almost time for sleep.” He kissed her cheeks. She smelled of rich chocolate, sugar, and vanilla from the cookies.

Wyatt Scott scooped the child up and made neighing noises as he bounded out of the room with her slung over one shoulder.

Suzanne laughed. “He didn’t even wish us bonsoir!”

Johan stood and pulled her into his arms, hoping Scott didn’t return. “He’s high spirited.” Did she wish he were more like that crazy-acting man? Maybe so. He wanted to show her what a passionate man he was, but this wasn’t the time or place. When they straightened out their vows, when she understood they were a married couple. Then.

Fleeting pain skittered over her features and disappeared. “He’s been good to me. I’m not treated like a servant at all.”

Was she coming to care for Scott? “I think many of the people who wish to settle in the mountains of Virginia are bold like him.” He pulled her a little closer.

Her eyes were wide. “Did you mean what you said to Sarah—that you intend to take us to this Shenandoah Valley?”

He licked his lips. If he leaned in, he could kiss her silly. “Ja.”

“It’s a wilderness. Not a safe place.”

They’d talked about this on the journey over from Amsterdam. Her mouth narrowed into a line, and her lowered eyebrows accused him. She shook her arms and he released his hold.
She wishes to break free from me.
To marry a fine gentleman. Did she still seek to find the Frenchman she was intended to marry?

He stepped back. “Suzanne, when we first arrived here, the innkeeper told me you sent a letter out right away.”

Her face was pained, guilty. “Yes.” Her hands trembled. “I…in France, I was promised to someone. I remembered that.” She looked down at her hands and squeezed her lips together in that way she did when she was about to cry.

Had she heard from him? His mouth was dry as the sand he’d sprinkled atop the letter sent to his parents. The woman he’d pledged his life to had summoned her old lover.
He needed to keep too busy to be tormented by what he might do if her fiancé showed up. “I’ve accepted more work. I’ll come when I can.”