Logan's Lady

by Tracie Peterson

  Three weeks was a very short time.

  She sighed and thought of leaving Estes and knew that it was tearing at her in a way that she’d never prepared herself for. She would have to leave the clean, crisp mountain air and the beauty that she’d never grow tired of looking upon. And for what? To return to the cold, damp English winters? To be the wife of that unbearably cruel bore?

  She felt a tear trickle down her cheek and rubbed it away with the back of her sleeve. She almost laughed at herself for the crude gesture. In so many ways I’ve become one of them. How can I go back to England now?

  “I can’t do it,” she whispered. “I can’t go back.”

  That left her with very few alternatives. She couldn’t very well talk her father into letting her remain in America. Soon enough she would be twenty-one and her father would never allow that day to come without her being properly married to Sir Jeffery.

  “I could run away,” she murmured and the though suddenly seemed very possible. Logan has taught me how to find my way around, she reasoned. I could hide out in the mountains until after my birthday and then Father would have no choice. But her birthday was the twenty-third of November and by that time this entire area would be snow-packed and frightfully cold. There was no way she would survive.

  “But I don’t want to survive if I have to marry Jeffery.”

  With that declaration an entirely different thought came to mind. Taking her own life could not be ruled out as a possible alternative. She thought of Crying Rock and the Indian maid who’d bravely gone to her death rather than face the unbearable ordeal of marrying a man she abhorred. I’m no different than that woman. My sorrow is certainly well-founded. To leave this place, this lovely, wonderful place would be sheer misery. And yet, even as she thought it, Amelia knew it wasn’t just the place—it was Logan. Marriage to any man other than Logan was simply unthinkable.

  “But he doesn’t feel the same way I do,” she chided. “He has his God and his religion and he doesn’t need a woman who would fight him with intellectual words and philosophies.” No, Logan needs a wife who would work at his side, worship at his side, raise a family at his side. Logan would expect her to believe as he did, that God not only existedbut also played an intricate role in the lives of His children. And that in doing so, He gave them a Savior in Jesus Christ.

  Something her mother had once said came back to haunt her. “Only the foolish man believes there is no God, Amelia. For the Bible says, ‘even the demons believe in God, and they tremble.’ ”

  Amelia gazed out over the valley and sighed. Logan said she had but to open her eyes to the handiwork of God to realize His existence. But how could she believe in God, much less in the need to worship Him and follow all manner of rule and regulation laid out in the Bible? To what purpose was there such a belief as the need for eternal life? Wasn’t it just that mortal man could not stand to believe that his important life ended in the grave? Wasn’t the idea of immortality something mankind comforted itself with in lieu of facing the truth that once you died, that was all there was? After all, most religions she’d studied had some form of immortality for their believers. It was rather like a parting gift from a high-society soiree. Something to cherish for those who had the courage to play the party games.

  “I do not need such comfort,” she whispered and hugged her arms close. “When my life is done, it is done and there will be no marriage to Sir Jeffery and no longing for what I can never have.”

  Suddenly it seemed quite reasonable to put an end to her life. In fact, it was almost calming. If there was nothing else to concern herself with, why not stop now? She’d seen more of the world than most people. She’d enjoyed the pleasures of the privileged life and she’d once known the love of good parents and siblings. So what if I never know the love of a man—never know the joys of motherhood? She wiped the tears that were now pouring freely from her eyes.

  “I will go to Jeffery and plead my case before him. I will tell him honestly that I have no desire to marry him and suggest to him a different course,” she told the valley before her. She climbed down from the rock and smoothed her skirt. “If he refuses to give consideration to my desires, then the matter will be resolved for me.”

  She thought that there should be some kind of feeling of accomplishment in making such a decision, but there wasn’t. She felt empty and void of life. “I am resigned to do this thing,” she said as an encouragement to her broken spirit. “There is no other way.”

  Chapter 14

  Sir Jeffery, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time,” Amelia began one evening after dinner.

  He seemed to sneer down his nose at her as though her request had somehow reduced her to a beggar. “I would be honored,” he said and extended his arm for her.

  Amelia, seeing all faces turned to behold her action, placed her hand upon his sleeve. “I suggest a short walk, if that would meet with your approval,” she said cautiously.

  “But of course, Lady Amhurst. I am your servant.”

  Amelia said nothing more, but allowed Jeffery to lead her amicably from the lodge.

  “I must say this is a pleasant surprise. Dare I hope you’re coming around to my way of thinking?”

  Amelia let go of him and shook her head. “No, rather I was hoping to persuade you to my way of thinking.”

  “How so?”

  “Sir Jeffery, I have no desire to marry you. I do not love you and I never will. I cannot make it any clearer on this point.” She turned to him in the dim lamp light of the porch and hoped he would understand. “I know about your hold on Father and I know about your desire for the Scottish property.” She held up her hand to wave off his question. “I overheard you two discussing the matter one evening. Therefore, I know, too, that you are not marrying me because of any great love, but rather because you want a good turn of business.”

  “Fair enough,” Jeffery replied and leaned back against the porch railing. “But your knowing the circumstance does nothing to change my decision.”

  “But why not? Why not be an honorable man about this and allow Father some other means by which to settle his debt?”

  “I’m open to other means. If you can put the seventy thousand pounds in my hand, I’ll call the entire wedding off.”

  “Truly?” she asked, feeling at once hopeful.

  Jeffery sneered and laughed. “But of course, you can’t put that kind of money in my hands, even if you inherit, can you?”

  “Perhaps not right away, but I could put over half of it in your hands.”

  “What? And leave yourself with no income. If you do not marry, your father is sure to exile you to that pitifully cold Scottish estate you seem so inclined to hang on to. Without funds, how do you propose to live?”

  “I hope to sell my book when we return to England. Lady Bird suggested—”

  “No, Amelia. I will not call of this wedding on your hopes and the suggestions of Lady Bird.”

  “And there is no other way to convince you?”

  “None. Now stop being such a foolish child about it all. You’ll have the very best of everything, I assure you. And if you’re concerned about your freedom to find true love, I will even go so far as to say that as long as you are discrete about your affairs, I will be most tolerant of them.”

  

  Amelia was totally aghast. “I would never consider such a thing!”

  Jeffery sighed and spoke tolerantly as though dealing with a simpleton. “It is done all the time, Amelia dear. Most of nobility take lovers because they’ve been forced into loveless marriages. I’m simply trying to offer you what would be an acceptable arrangement in lieu of your sacrificing to a marriage of arrangement.”

  Noises from the front of the lodge porch told Amelia that her sisters and their friends were making their way over to the Amhurst cabin. They were giggling and talking in rapid—fire succession about some point or another. It probably amounted to nothing more than their ritual game of after—dinner whist. Am
elia lowered her voice to avoid drawing attention to herself.

  “I am appalled that you would suggest such a thing. Marriage is a sacred institution, not something to be flaunted about and infringed upon by numerous affairs.”

  “My dear, you are quite naive to believe such a thing. I had thought you to be more mature about these matters, especially in light of your disbelief in holy affairs. I thought you above all other women to be removed from such nonsense.”

  “Faithfulness has never been nonsense to my way of thinking.”

  “Ah, but it is your way of thinking that is keeping this matter unresolved. Your father made up his mind to accept my generous offer. It will benefit all people in one way or another. Yes, even you will benefit, Amelia, and if you would but stop to think about it, you would see that I speak the truth. You might even come to enjoy my company after a time, and furthermore, to find pleasure in my bed.”

  Amelia dismissed such notions with her coldest stare. She hoped Jeffery felt frozen to the bone from her look. “I believe we’ve said all there is to say,” she stated and turned to leave. Jeffery did nothing to stop her.

  “You’ll soon see for yourself, Amelia.” He called after her, then laughed in a way that suggested he was very much enjoying the entire matter.

  Amelia hurried to her cabin, fighting back tears and angry retorts. She knew that there was little to be done but accept her fate. Suicide seemed her only answer and her heart grew even heavier as she considered how she might accomplish such a fate.

  “I want to wear the green one,” Penelope argued and pulled the gown from Margaret’s hold. Both sisters looked up guiltily as Amelia entered the room to find them fighting over her gowns.

  When Amelia remained fixed in her place, saying nothing of reprimand, Penelope took the opportunity to explain. “There is to be a dance tonight. They’re clearing the lodge’s main room and Mary is fixing refreshments. It won’t be as nice as a fancy ball, but I’m positively dying to dance. And Mr. Reed said the local men will come and serve as partners.”

  Margaret lifted her nose in the air and said, “I do hope they bathe. Some of these Americans seem not to know what a benefit water and soap can be.” Her attitude suggested she might be reconsidering her appearance at the dance, but just when Amelia figured her to be absent, Margaret’s expression changed to one of pleading desperation. “You simply must let us borrow your dresses. You have so many pretty gowns that you’ve not even worn and we’ve only those old things.” She waived to a small stack of discarded gowns.

  “Do whatever you like,” Amelia finally said in a voice of pure resignation. “You may have all of my dresses for all I care. I won’t be needing them anymore.”

  “You’re only saying that to make me feel bad,” Penelope said, puffing out her chest indignantly. “Just because you are marrying Sir Jeffery in Denver and will receive a new trousseau, you think you can be cruel.”

  “Yes, you are very mean-spirited, Amelia,” Margaret agreed. “I think I’ve never met a more hateful person. You’ll have Sir Jeffery and his money and go to court and spend your days in all the finery and luxury money can buy. We’ll still be trying to make a proper match.”

  “Yes,” Penelope added with a sigh, “and hoping that our husbands will be as handsome and rich as Sir Jeffery.” Both of them broke into tittering giggles before Penelope sobered and tightened her hold on the gown as though Amelia might change her mind. “So you needn’t be so smug Amelia. You may walk around with your nose in the air for all we care.”

  Amelia looked at them both. She was stunned by their harshness and hurt by their comments. These were her sisters and there had been a time when they were all close and happy. She remembered joyous times when they were little and she’d played happily with them in the nursery. She loved them, even if they couldn’t see that. Even if time and sorrow had made them harsh, and strained their ability to be kind. She saw hints of their mother woven in their expressions. Margaret looked like their mother more than any of them, but Penelope shared a similar mouth and nose. Amelia sighed. They should be close, close as any three people could ever be. But they thought her a snob and a spiteful, prideful person, and perhaps they were right. It seemed only to fuel the idea that the world would be a better place without her in it.

  No wishing to leave them with a bitter memory of her, she offered softly, “I do apologize. I fear you have misjudged me, however. It was never my intentions to make you feel bad.”

  Margaret and Penelope looked at her in complete surprise. Amelia wondered if they had any idea of what she was about to do. They were so young and childish and probably concerned themselves only with what color would best highlight their eyes or hair. No doubt they prayed fervently that Amelia would allow Jeffery the freedom to dance with them and pay them the attention they so craved. Will they mourn me when I am gone? Will anyone?

  “You don’t care at all how we feel. All summer you’ve pranced around here like some sort of queen. Always you’ve had the best of everything and Father even allowed you to remain behind from the hunt when we had to drudge about this horrid country looking for sport!” Penelope declared.

  “Yes, it’s true!” Margaret exclaimed in agreement. “You had Jeffery’s undivided attention and positively misused him. You have no heart, Amelia.”

  Amelia could no longer stand up under their criticism. She felt herself close to tears again and rather than allow them to see her cry, turned at the door to walk away. “You needn’t worry about the matter anymore,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll take myself to the Crying Rock and relieve you of your miseries.”

  Crossing the yard, Amelia looked heavenward. A huge milky moon shown down to light her way and a million stars sparkled against the blackness. Mother had told her that stars were the candlelights of angels.

  “We can’t always see the good things at hand, but we can trust them to be there.”

  

  Amelia sighed and rubbed her arms against the chill. “You were wrong, Mother. There is no good thing at hand for me.”

  She made her way up the mountain through the heavy undergrowth of the forest floor. She only vaguely knew the path to the Crying Rock and hoped she’d find the right way. Tears blinded her from seeing what little moonlight had managed to filter down through the trees. She’d never been one given to tears, but during these few months in America she’d cried enough for a lifetime. Now, it seemed that her lifetime should appropriately come to an end.

  Her sisters’ harsh comments were still ringing in her ears and her chest felt tight and constricted with guilt and anguish. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps I am heartless and cruel. The world would be a much better place without me.

  God cares about your pain. Logan’s words came back to mind so clearly that Amelia stopped in her place and listened for him to speak. The wind moaned through the trees and Amelia realized that it was nothing but her mind playing tricks on her. There is no God, she reminded herself, chiding herself for being foolish.

  “Even if there were,” she muttered, “He wouldn’t care about me.”

  

  Logan leaned against the stone wall of the fireplace and wondered if Amelia would join the evening fun. He’d watched her from afar and saw that her mind was overly burdened with matters that she refused to share. He’d prayed for her to find the answers she longed for.

  Over in one corner, Lord Amhurst and Sir Jeffery were steeped in conversation and Logan couldn’t help but watch them with a feeling of contempt. What kind of man forces his child to marry against her will? Especially a man who represents nothing but fearful teasing from childhood and snobbish formality in adulthood. He longed to understand better and not feel to judgmental about Amelia’s father and his insistence that she wed Jeffery Chamberlain. He knew very little except for what he’d overheard and none of that gave him the full picture. He’d tried to get Amelia to talk about it, but even when he’d caught her in moments where she was less guarded about her speech, sh
e refused to share her concerns with him.

  His mind went back to the conversation he’d overheard earlier that evening between Amelia and Jeffery. He’d been coming to the lodge and rounded the back corner just in time to hear Amelia tell Chamberlain that she believed in faithfulness in marriage. Chamberlain certainly hadn’t, but it didn’t surprise Logan.

  “Well, well, and here come some of our lovely ladies now,” the earl stated loudly.

  Logan looked up to find Amelia’s sisters flouncing about the room in their finery. Lady Gambett and her daughters were quick to follow them into the room, but Amelia was nowhere to be found.

  “I say, Penelope,” Lord Amhurst began, “isn’t that one of Amelia’s gowns?”

  Penelope whirled in the pale-green silk. “Yes, Father, it is.”

  “You know how particular your sister is about her gowns. It will certainly miff her to find you in it.”

  “She knows all about it,” Penelope replied.

  “Yes, Father, she does. In fact, this is her gown also and she told me I could wear it,” Margaret chattered. “Although it is a bit large.”

  Logan smiled, seeing for himself that Margaret’s girlish figure couldn’t quite fill out the bodice. He could imagine Amelia growing impatient with them both and throwing the gowns in their faces. Sipping a cup of coffee, Logan tried to hide his smile and keep his thoughts to himself.

  In one corner, several of the boys were tuning up their fiddles and guitars to provide the evening’s music, while the earl exchanged formalities with the newly arrived Lord Gambett. They talked for several minutes while the ladies gathered around Jeffery, each vying for his compliments. Some of the local men straggled in and Logan nearly laughed at the way they each paused at the door to shine their boots on the backside of the opposite leg. Never mind their jeans might show a smudge of dirt, so long as their boots looked good. Logan almost felt sorry for them, knowing that the prim and proper English roses would hardly appreciate the effort.

  “We’re certain to beat the snow if we leave at the end of next week instead of waiting,” Logan hear Lord Gambett say.