by Laura Frantz
Overcome, unable to murmur even an aye, Seamus followed him into the stifling courtroom. He looked up, eye drawn to the back where a lone figure stood against one paneled wall. Riggs? He had obviously brought Myrtilla here. And Myrtilla, ever faithful, had saved the day.
The true mistress of Tall Acre could come home.
Was she imagining it or did the day feel different? Walking down Three Chimneys’ long drive without reason or explanation, when the slant of the sun made her feel she was melting from the heat and should be indoors, Sophie took in Tall Acre. She longed to see signs of Seamus back from Richmond. Longed to see Lily Cate at play like it was an ordinary summer’s day and their whole world didn’t hinge on a Richmond courtroom.
She caught her breath as the baby moved beneath her airy muslin shortgown. She was growing used to that flutter, more a tickle, soon to be an outright kick. The delight never dimmed. She ached to decorate Tall Acre’s nursery right down to the pincushion Glynnis had just sent her, charmingly embroidered with “Welcome Little Stranger.”
But much had to be settled. And there was no promise she would ever set foot in Tall Acre again. Fear welled within her, but she kept it at bay by remembering the words she’d awakened to at dawn.
Joy cometh in the morning.
It was that hope, that belief, that propelled her now. She walked on, intent on a dusty cloud in the distance.
Seamus had said he would send word of the outcome. But this rider, going at full gallop, was Seamus, not some post rider.
Glad she wasn’t heavy with child, she began to run toward him, unmindful of the dust she herself was kicking up or the trickle of sweat beneath her loosened stays.
The distance denied her any hint of his expression. But his speed suggested pleasure. Hope. Glad news.
He dismounted by Tall Acre’s gate. She was nearly there, out of breath, but so full of expectation at his return she never slowed. When he started toward her, he was . . . smiling. She’d not seen him merry in so long she had begun to think he never would be again.
They collided, nothing gentle about it, but there was a deep tenderness in his embrace. “Come home, Sophie.”
Questions gathered into a knot in her throat. She touched his cheek, noting the shadows beneath eyes that were now a shining, triumphant blue.
“The judge put Anne on the first ship back to England. The court order forbids her return to American soil.” He took a breath, a great lungful of air, before continuing in staccato beats. “The Fitzhughs have sailed with her. I stayed myself to see it done.”
Done. The word brought release. Disbelief. Joy.
“Nothing stands in the way of your being my wife. Lily Cate’s mother. The trouble is over, never to be resurrected again.”
She began to laugh but she wanted to dance. Turning toward Three Chimneys, she bid it goodbye in her heart and head. Clasping her hand, Seamus began tugging her gently toward his waiting mount. Toward Tall Acre.
Home. At long last.
EPILOGUE
Nearly March, a skiff of snow was melting, proclaiming winter’s end. Sophie looked toward the bedchamber windows, unshuttered now that her travail was over. During the long, pain-ridden night, she’d all but forgotten what season it was. She was finishing her first winter as Tall Acre’s mistress, and in such fine company too. She looked down at the infant in her arms, swaddled in new linen, only minutes old.
Seamus had just gone to get Lily Cate, who was at breakfast. The whole house seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for a baby’s triumphant cry. Only this baby hadn’t cried but had emerged plump and pink and politely, turning them anxious till he’d opened eyes the shade of Seamus’s Continental coat.
Elation crowded out exhaustion as Sophie counted ten flawless fingers and toes, breathing in the babe’s intoxicating newborn scent like some sort of heaven-sent cologne.
“I’ll step out and enjoy a cup of punch,” Dr. Craik was saying, “while you and the baby greet Miss Lily Cate.”
He left the door open as Myrtilla wiped her brow and Florie took pains with her hair, rebraiding the lengthy plait that had frayed in the night. Their own pleasure was apparent—they could hardly look away from the heir of Tall Acre.
Mere seconds later, Sophie thrilled to the sound of rushing feet. Lily Cate soon hovered in the doorway, gaze riveted to the bundle in Sophie’s arms. She approached the bed with near reverence, Seamus just behind, as the women left the room.
Still clad in her nightgown, Lily Cate climbed the bed steps and settled on the feather mattress with care.
Sophie placed the bundle in her arms, delighting in Lily Cate’s rapt expression. “Our baby is in need of a name.”
Lily Cate looked up at Seamus. “Papa, is he truly a boy? How can you be sure?”
“Trust me,” he said with a wink.
“He is so small!” Leaning closer, Lily Cate kissed his reddened nose. “Brothers should be big, but he is more like a puppy.”
“He’ll grow in time,” Seamus said, bending to kiss Sophie full on the mouth.
She touched her dry lips as he pulled away, mindful of the anxiety in his eyes. The night had been long and he’d been pacing, coming in once when she’d cried out despite Craik and the women having all in hand.
“Why not call him Seamus?” Sophie offered.
He quirked a brow. “One of us isn’t enough?” When she shook her head, he relented. “Seamus, then. But the lad still lacks a middle name.”
“Let’s call him Adam.” Lily Cate cradled the baby closer. “After the first man God made.”
“Seamus Adam Ogilvy,” Sophie echoed, gauging Seamus’s reaction. At his delighted smile, joy sang through her. “A bonny family we make—Seamus, Sophie, Lily Cate—”
“And baby Adam!” finished their wee daughter.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The Mistress of Tall Acre was a joy to write because of my own family heritage in Virginia, but mostly because of my continued awe and appreciation of those first American Patriots. From the comforts of our twenty-first-century homes and a world of instant everything, we often forget how long the Revolutionary War was and how very turbulent and passionate that time period. In the span of a novel I’ve attempted to portray a tiny slice of that era through the tenants at Tall Acre. Their stories are mere echoes of the flesh and blood lives of real colonials who often did not share the Ogilvys’ happy ending. However, through their sacrifices, courage, and vision they leave us an enduring, historically rich legacy.
It was a joy, too, to spend time researching and reading George Washington’s journals and letters as well as the diaries and correspondence of fellow planters and Virginians, including the Jeffersons, Byrds, and Carters. I also became fascinated with George Mason, an often overlooked founding father, and his elegant estate, Gunston Hall. The story of his life and his loving tribute to his wife, Anne Eilbeck, on her gravestone are also a part of this novel.
When writing a book I usually have character names picked out long before the story begins, but this time I asked savvy readers for help. I was delighted when Emma in Michigan chose Miss Menzies as a heroine’s name, and in a heartbeat Jennifer in New Brunswick came up with Seamus Michael Ogilvy. I was left to dream up my littlest heroine, Lily Cate, but oh what fun that was! Heartfelt thanks also to Whitney in Ohio for befriending me and telling me about Elswyth Thane’s works. One of my favorite sources was a vintage copy of Thane’s Potomac Squire, a truly praiseworthy book. For other primary sources and visuals used in the writing of this novel, please visit https://www.pinterest.com/laurafrantz/.
Many thanks to all the other hearts and hands who were a part of this work—you know who you are!
Now therefore, our God, we thank thee, and praise thy glorious name.
1 Chronicles 29:13
Laura Frantz is the author of The Frontiersman’s Daughter, Courting Morrow Little, The Colonel’s Lady, and the Ballantyne Legacy series. She lives and writes in a log cabin in the heart of the Kentucky woods.
Please visit her at www.LauraFrantz.net.
Books by Laura Frantz
The Frontiersman’s Daughter
Courting Morrow Little
The Colonel’s Lady
The Mistress of Tall Acre
THE BALLANTYNE LEGACY
Love’s Reckoning
Love’s Awakening
Love’s Fortune
LauraFrantz.net
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