“Of course I came back, little one. I told you I would!”
“But it’s so soon!” She was dancing about him with glee, clapping her hands, and the rose in her hair fell at his feet. She scooped it up, and curtsied deeply as she handed it demurely to him. And this time he laughed at her. It was laughter born of ecstasy and relief. He could see in her eyes that she still cared for him.
“You’re as big a tease as you ever were, Camille. Should I go away and come back if it’s too soon?” He tucked her hand into his as she stood looking into his eyes.
“Don’t you dare! I won’t let you go away again. And if you do, I’ll go to France with Daddy, and marry a duke or a prince!”
“That’s a charming threat.” But he didn’t seem worried about it. “I will have to leave eventually though, you know.”
“When?” It was a frightened wail and her father smiled. It was going to be a perfect match for them both, and he had no doubt that Thurston loved the girl, and she was obviously quite taken with him. She was flattered by the attentions of a much older man, just as Thurston was enjoying the affection of a young girl. But there was more to it than that, something that burned between them, almost too bright to touch.
“Let’s not talk about my leaving yet, little one. I only arrived today.”
“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming back?” She pretended to pout as dinner was announced and they moved slowly toward the dining room.
“I did.” He smiled at Beauchamp and she tapped her father’s arm in reproach, with her fan.
“How naughty you are, Father. You didn’t say a word!”
“I thought it would be nicer if Mr. Thurston’s visit came as a surprise.” And he hadn’t been far wrong.
She beamed at them both. “How long are you here for, Jeremiah?” She looked imperiously at him, suddenly enjoying the power she had. She knew full well that he had crossed the country to see her, and he was a very important man, her father had told her so, again and again. And she had told her friends how important he was. That mattered a great deal to her.
He had made arrangements at the mine to be gone for a month. It was the longest he felt he could stay away, but that would give him more than two weeks with Camille, and if she said yes, he’d have to come home and get things organized anyway. There would be plenty to do. He already had a plan, and Hannah had been as nervous as a cat when he left, making him promise to write to her and tell her what Camille had said. But his thoughts were not on Hannah now, but on the pretty girl at his side. She was even more beautiful than she had been that spring, and she seemed to have grown up. She asked him countless questions about the mines and complained that his letters never gave her enough news. “I haven’t written to very many girls.” He smiled at her, and a little while later her father shooed her from the room. The butler served them both brandy and cigars, and Beauchamp looked at his prospective son-in-law.
“Are you going to ask her tonight?”
“With your permission, I will.”
“You know you have that.”
Jeremiah sighed softly as he lit his cigar. “I’d like to know where I stand with her.”
“Do you really have any doubt?”
“Some. She could just be playing, with no idea that I’m going to ask for her hand. That could be frightening to a girl her age.”
“Not Camille.” He kept saying that, as though she were different from all other girls, but Jeremiah wasn’t as sure. “Would you like to announce the engagement at once?”
“I would. Before I go back. And then I could start my plans when I return to California.”
“And what plans are those?” Beauchamp eyed him with interest, wondering what he had in mind for his little girl.
“Something that you said before.” Jeremiah was cautious. After all, she hadn’t accepted him yet, but he had already given the matter a great deal of thought, and Beauchamp had been right. She’d be unhappy in Napa too much of the time, and he could go back and forth to see to the mines. He would build a house in San Francisco for her, and they would at least spend the fashionable winter months there. He explained his plan to Beauchamp now, who looked pleased. “And after the house is built, say in five or six months, I’ll come back here for the wedding, and I’ll take her back to California with me. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. She’ll be eighteen in December. That’s four months from now … think the house might be ready then?”
“That’s a little quick, but it might. I was thinking of February or March, but”—Jeremiah smiled and he looked like a boy again—“I’d prefer December myself.” He was lonely without Mary Ellen now. “We’ll try for that.” And then suddenly he got to his feet and began to nervously circle the room.
“Don’t worry about it, man.” Beauchamp smiled, and then he realized that it was time to let him speak to Camille. He got up to leave, and left Jeremiah to find her in the garden himself. She was sitting on her favorite swing.
“You two took an awfully long time. Are you drunk?” were her first words to him, and he laughed.
“Not too much so.”
“I think it’s so stupid that the women always have to leave the room. What do you talk about?”
“Not much. Business, the mines, a little of everything.”
“What did you talk about tonight?” She was a smart girl, and she watched his eyes as she moved slowly back and forth on the swing. His eyes locked into hers and his voice was deep and soft.
“We talked about you.” He felt his heart race and the swing stopped.
“What did you say?” Her voice was a whisper in the thickly scented Southern air.
“That I’d like to marry you.” For a moment neither of them spoke, as she turned huge childlike eyes up to him.
“You did?” And then she smiled at him and he felt his heart melt. “You’re teasing me.”
His voice was deep and serious. “No, Camille, I’m not. I came to Atlanta this time to see you and ask you to marry me.” He heard her catch her breath and suddenly, as once long before, her lips were crushed on his, but his answering embrace took her breath away this time until at last he cradled her in his arms and spoke softly to her. “I love you very much, Camille, and I want to take you back to California with me.”
“Now?” She looked stunned and he smiled at her.
“Not quite yet. In a few months, after I’ve built a house for you, and you’ve turned eighteen.” He stood in front of her now, and gently touched her cheek with his hand, and then he knelt at her feet, bringing her face close to his. “I love you, Camille … with all my heart … more than you’ll ever know.” Their eyes met and held, and his voice brought a shiver to her flesh. “Will you marry me?”
She nodded, for once bereft of speech. She had hoped for this, but somehow it had always seemed like a distant dream. And then she threw her arms about his neck. “What will the house be like?” It seemed a funny thing to say and he laughed.
“Whatever you like, my love. But you haven’t answered me yet, at least not in so many words. Will you marry me, Camille?”
“Yes!” She shrieked with delight, pulling him close again, and then she pulled away with a troubled air. “Will I have to have babies if I’m your wife?” He stammered at the unexpected words, her question had embarrassed him. It was something she had to discuss with her mother, not with him. And he was suddenly reminded again of how young she was, in spite of how grown up she sometimes seemed.
“I suppose we might have a child or two.” He almost felt sorry for her. She was such a child herself. “Would you mind that very much?” It was one of the things he wanted most. In the past four months he had thought of nothing but that, the babies they would have. But she looked crestfallen now.
“One of my mother’s friends died in childbirth last year.” It was a shocking thing to say, and Jeremiah was even more uncomfortable than he’d been before; this was definitely not a subject he wanted to discuss with her.
&n
bsp; “That doesn’t happen to young girls, Camille.” But of course he knew it did. “I don’t think you ought to worry about that. Things come about naturally between man and wife.…” But she cut him off, unimpressed.
“My mother says it’s the price women pay for original sin. But I don’t think it’s fair that only women pay the price. I don’t want to get fat and—”
“Camille!” He was deeply distressed by what she said. “Darling … please … I don’t want you to worry about anything.” And as he said the words, he took her in his arms again and she forgot about what her mother said, and their talk turned to the house he would build her instead, the wedding after she turned eighteen … announcing their engagement as soon as her mother got home … the party her father would give them … as far as Camille was concerned, they were all much more important things. And by the time she went to bed that night, she was so excited she couldn’t sleep. They had sought out her father to tell him the good news. He shook Jeremiah’s hand, kissed Camille’s cheek, and when he went to bed that night, he was more than well pleased. His daughter was going to be a very rich, very lucky, very happy girl. And that made him a very happy man. He was happier than ever that he had put the idea in Thurston’s head the previous spring.
And all Jeremiah could think of that night was the tiny, delicious dark-haired beauty who would lie in his arms so soon. And he could hardly wait. He had been lonely for the past few months, and he hadn’t seen Mary Ellen again. Nor had he heard anything from Amelia in New York, although he’d written to her a month or two before, and told her about Camille. But he had enough to think of now … his bride … and the spectacular house he was going to build her. And as for her comment about having babies, he wasn’t concerned. It was natural for a young girl to be afraid. Her mother would undoubtedly talk to her before her wedding night and the problem would take care of itself. Think of it, he told himself as he drifted off to sleep, a year from right then, she would probably be giving birth, if not before.… He went to sleep that night smiling to himself, and dreaming of Camille and the children they would have, watching them play in Napa, as he and Camille strolled across the lawn.…
11
Elizabeth Beauchamp rushed home to Atlanta as soon as Orville’s letter reached her with the news, and Hubert did too, although he had been a little more difficult to reach. But the family assembled quickly, and invitations were sent all over Atlanta inviting their friends to celebrate the young couple. And although many people were still away, more than two hundred appeared for the engagement party, and Camille had never looked more lovely as she stood on the reception line in a beautifully embroidered white organdy dress. Scattered across it were tiny pearls and exquisite little beads, and she looked like a fairy princess with her creamy skin and jet black hair, standing at Jeremiah’s side, wearing a dazzling smile, and a twelve-carat diamond as her engagement ring.
“My God, it’s almost as big as an egg!” her mother had shrieked when she saw the ring, and Camille had danced about the room looking pleased as her father laughed. “Aren’t you a wicked girl,” her mother laughed too, “and you’re going to be so rich, Camille!” She cast a reproachful glance at Orville, who chose not to respond to her this time. He was too pleased about Camille.
“I know I am. And Jeremiah is going to build me a beautiful house, with everything most modern in it, and everything I want!” She sounded nine years old and her mother knit her brows.
“What a spoiled girl you’re going to be, Camille.”
“I know.” And the only shadow that crossed her face was the prospect of having a child, but maybe that would be a small price to pay. She was going to talk to her mother about that, and ask if there was anything she could do to put it off for a while, she had heard women talk about that, but she didn’t want to mention it now. There was still time before her wedding night.
“Do you know how lucky you are?”
“Yes.” And then she scampered off as the maid came to tell her that Jeremiah was downstairs.
His two weeks in Atlanta felt almost like a dream, parties and picnics and presents and announcements, and stolen kisses with his hands around her tiny waist. He could hardly wait to bring her home, and it tore at his heart to kiss her good-bye this time. He could hardly wait to bring her back with him. But he had a lot to do first, land to buy, a house to build for his bride. He spent the entire trip back on the train making sketches of exactly what he had in mind, and before he ever returned to Napa this time, he spent three days in San Francisco looking at parcels of land and enormous lots, and then he went to several architects to have them start drawing up plans. And the morning he went home, he found exactly what he wanted for her. The lot itself was enormous, almost an entire square block on the southern edge of Nob Hill with a view all the way across the city, and as he squinted his eyes, he could imagine just what he wanted. It would be even grander than the Huntington or Crocker residences, that of Mark Hopkins, or even the Tobins. And when he went to the architect’s office later that morning and described it, he laughed when the man said that within two years he would have just exactly what he wanted.
“Not quite, my friend.” The architect looked puzzled as Jeremiah smiled at him. “I had a little less than two years in mind.”
“One?” The man blanched and Jeremiah’s grin widened. He didn’t know Jeremiah Thurston … or Camille Beauchamp for that matter. Jeremiah could easily imagine her being just as exacting as he was, when she grew up a little, and got used to being Mrs. Thurston, and he wasn’t far wrong.
“I was thinking more like four months, maybe five.”
The man almost gagged and Jeremiah laughed. “You’re not serious?”
“I am.” And with that he sat down at the man’s desk and wrote a check for a staggering sum, but they were the best architects in the city and had been highly recommended to Jeremiah by his bankers. He handed the check to the architect, and explained that another like it would be delivered upon completion of the job, in four months, five at the most. It was a sum that no one would have argued with, and even helped to ease the time problem a little. With that amount of money behind them, they could hire an army to put up the house on the lot on Nob Hill, which later that day Jeremiah purchased with a single check. He was an easy man to deal with. And when he got on the boat for Napa at twilight, he was pleased with the day’s business behind him. The architect himself would be coming to Napa in a week’s time to show Jeremiah his drawings, and with any luck at all, they would be starting construction only days after that. Jeremiah didn’t want to waste a moment, and he wanted the house finished when he brought his bride out from the East. He had already decided to honeymoon in New York after their December wedding, and then he would bring Camille home, to Napa, and their beautiful new house in San Francisco. They would live in the city during the winter months, and at the first hint of spring they would move to Napa until the end of the summer. It sounded like a perfect existence to Jeremiah, and when the architect appeared at the mines the following week, he thought that the drawings he presented were equally perfect. The man had correctly understood the importance of Jeremiah’s project. He was a man in his mid forties, marrying for the first time, and his bride-to-be was a seventeen-year-old girl who fired his heart and his dreams and his soul. It was a house to which one would have brought a princess, a home in which to raise one’s children, and which would withstand a dozen generations. It was a veritable palace, with a stained-glass dome gracing the central part of the house, over the main hall, and four beautiful little turrets at each corner. There were columns in front and a stern-looking façade, extensive grounds and beautifully manicured gardens, an exquisite gate through which their carriages would pass and a high fence all around. It looked more like a country property than a city dwelling, which pleased Jeremiah immensely, and he was especially excited about the stained-glass dome. It would bring in shafts of brightly colored light and give the appearance of sunlight even on a dreary day. It was a gift
he especially wanted to give Camille, to whom he wanted to give a lifetime of sunlight. In every way, the designs were perfect. The house managed to combine the rococo and the Victorian in a way that pleased the eye and satisfied Jeremiah’s soul, and when the architect left to take the boat back to the city, Jeremiah sat back at his desk with a huge smile. He could hardly wait until Camille saw it. He could already imagine her strolling in the elegant gardens, or lounging in the lavish suite they had just discussed, with a huge master bedroom, a boudoir, and both a dressing and sitting room for her, and a handsome wood-paneled study for Jeremiah. There was to be a nursery on the same floor, with a sitting room, and a bedroom for the baby’s nurse, and upstairs, six more large, airy bedrooms for the same purpose. Who knew how many children they might have? The drawing room downstairs was the largest the architect had ever designed, and there would be another smaller one, an enormous paneled library, a dining room, and a ballroom. The kitchens would be the most modern ever built in San Francisco, the servants’ quarters enviable and extensive, the stables would even have filled Hubert with envy. The house had absolutely everything they could have wanted, and would boast wood-paneled rooms and handsome chandeliers, sweeping staircases and magnificent carpets. The architect assured Jeremiah that his staff would begin searching out these treasures now, and cabinetmakers and carpenters would be put to work at once, even before the house was complete. And from now on, Jeremiah would come into the city once a week, to observe the work on the site, and to look over their progress. It was a mammoth project for all concerned, and Jeremiah wondered constantly if it would be ready in time, as letters rained in from Camille, talking of all her preparations for the wedding. The fabric for the dress had been bought in New Orleans and had been woven in Paris, and she wouldn’t tell him more than that, but she could hardly wait, and she was as excited about her trousseau as he about their house, about which he said very little to her. He had told her only that he thought they should have a house in San Francisco, he didn’t tell her that he was building the largest and finest home the city had ever seen, and that each day crowds stood gaping as the work went forward with vast crews of men attempting to meet his deadline. He had even sent some of the men from the mines to assist them, and on weekends he was offering huge bonuses to those who would work in the city on the construction site.
Thurston House Page 11
