by Robyn Carr
“There’s a considerable dowry provided for you. The men in this community have their eyes turned to it.”
“Aye,” she said, a tear touching her cheek. “I’m waiting for the man who doesn’t desire the dowry, but wants me.”
“Alicia, you are my child and my responsibility, and seeing to your proper marriage is part—”
She blinked her eyes tightly shut and a tear collected on her lashes. She could not drive away her past. And now she would have to disgrace her new family, a thing that caused her incredible pain. And that pain turned to anger toward her father.
“Your responsibility! I have been my own master for eight and ten years! I’ve made my own decisions and planned my own life! Damn your dowry! How can I even know the man loves me, with your dowry hanging over my head!”
“Alicia!” her father cautioned.
“I can’t talk of marriage,” she sniveled, hot tears coursing down her cheeks. “I can’t.”
“It’s a matter of propriety—” he began.
“I’m certain, after hearing Mrs. Jody, that I am anything but proper bridal stock!” She rose and walked toward the study door. She turned and faced her father. “Don’t you see? It’s too late for you to take care of that for me.”
She opened the door and began to exit, her father’s sharp, commanding words at her back.
“By God, my daughter will be properly wed when I deem the time right and the man honorable.”
“I will not!” she shouted.
“Will!” he rejoined.
“You can’t,” she cried, her tears and her anger equally strong. “You have me home, but I am not your little girl. I’ve been my only counsel for most of my life. You can’t tell me what to do with my life now.”
She was moving to the stairs, and her father, angry and red-faced, was close on her heels.
“You will abide by your father’s wishes as the other children have or—”
Alicia turned and faced him brazenly. Her cheeks were moist and her eyes blazing. “I respect your wishes in your home where I can, sir, but you cannot make me marry a man I do not love.”
“You can learn to love your father’s choice for you.”
“I will leave this house first,” she promised, and turned from him, dashing up the stairs toward her room.
“Letty!” he cried after her.
Alicia felt a pang when she heard him use the shortened version of her name, but she did not pause. She fled from him, from the Tilden dowry and the respectable reputation all the Tildens had. She couldn’t face him. And she couldn’t dodge her own hurt.
Wesley Tilden’s face was pink from the heated exchange. He had managed, he thought, to maintain some control over his children, until this sprite came along. She was headstrong, stubborn, and would not be properly parented. He was at a loss as to what to do with her.
He would have gone back to sulk in his study, but he found his wife staring at him from the open door to the veranda. Her face was grim and set.
“What have you done, Wesley?” she asked.
“I spoke to her about her marriage,” he said defensively. “She thinks my opinion hardly worth her time—”
“If you drive my child from her rightful home,” Marguerite said very slowly, “I think I shall never forgive you.”
Wesley opted for fewer words on the subject. His wife seldom turned a completely rigid expression to him, but this once she was adamant. And with her jaw set so, she looked remarkably like her daughter just had. He grunted. “Damned stubborn women...” And he turned to walk back to his study.
The bell at the river rang several times every day, and usually it was some merchant wishing to discuss the goods that Wesley Tilden and his sons had warehoused for sale or trade. The small Negro children dashed to the dock to see who was arriving, but the women had become accustomed to frequent guests. Only the children were the ones always excited about new arrivals.
Alicia stood in the kitchen with Brianna and some of the staff, snapping beans to be boiled, her hair covered with a kerchief and an apron covering her rounding belly. A small black child tugged at her skirt.
“A sea captain, mum,” he said. She nodded and smiled at him. “And they say he’s the lord.”
Etta cackled gleefully. “Not the Lord, child. He ain’t the Lord. He’s rich as milord, master, and your master was called Lord Tilden when he was home in England.”
Marguerite’s voice drifted happily through the doors and they could hear her delighted laughter. Then she was calling them from the kitchen. “Brianna. Alicia. Come and meet an old friend.”
The two looked at each other, smiling at their appearance and shrugging to do her bidding. Alicia was untying her apron as she walked into the foyer of the house and smiled as she noticed that Preston and Wesley had turned out for this visitor.
And then her feet refused to move another step as her eyes found his face.
“Two of my daughters, Lord Seavers,” Marguerite was saying. “Brianna, Preston’s wife, and Alicia, our very own...”
She couldn’t move. Her eyes became round and astonished and a certain dizziness seemed to envelope her. As her arm went out in the direction of the wall, she saw him match her astonished look as he moved quickly toward her. He did not have a chance to reach her before she began to swoon, but as a swirling started to overtake her, she was in his firm grasp.
Geoffrey Seavers knelt beside her and held her head off the floor. He lifted her in his arms while Etta bustled through the kitchen doors. “The poor lass has been standin’ in that hot kitchen too long, bless her. This country’s hot as a red cinder when first ye come; it took me years to stop fainting with the heat. You get that poor lass t’bed.”
“Well,” Geoffrey said with a shrug, “if you’ll show me the way, I already have the situation in hand.”
“Let me,” Wesley offered.
“I assure you, Lord Tilden, I don’t mind at all.” He smiled into Alicia’s eyes. “It’s hardly a burden.”
“I’m all right,” Alicia protested. “I can manage the stairs.”
Etta was out in front of them, working her wide frame up the stairs, chattering her worries as she went. “You be careful how you handle this lass, son. She’s mighty precious stock in this house.”
Geoffrey made for the stairs as quickly as he could so that no other man would take his burden away from him, though he was followed up the stairs by both Marguerite and Brianna, worried frowns marking their previously happy faces.
“Still light as a feather,” he whispered.
Alicia pursed her lips and looked away from his face.
“Perhaps a trifle heavier,” he observed under his breath.
Alicia’s eyes narrowed and she glared at him, but she could not deny that the feel of his arms holding her off the ground was as delightful as it was unsettling. He set her gently on her bed and stood up to look down at her, his eyes aglow and a smile on his handsome face.
“Do you feel all right?” he asked.
“I feel just fine,” she snapped. “Thank you for your services, my lord,” she managed with something of a sneer.
Geoffrey found himself moved out of the way as Etta and Marguerite fussed around the bed, Alicia trying to avoid their fluttering hands and insisting she was perfectly all right.
Wesley and Preston were at the doorway of Alicia’s room and she could hear their voices. “We don’t always welcome our guests in this manner, Geoffrey, but in this household anything can happen.”
“I’ll admit, sir, that I seldom find a woman in my arms before I’ve been properly introduced,” Seavers laughed.
Properly introduced, indeed, Alicia thought with malice. The nerve of him to come here. For what? To taunt her the more? Or had he now changed his mind? Well, it would do no good, she would have none of him. He was out of her life, as she was out of his.
“Well, you might want to try some of my brandy, now that you’ve earned it,” Wesley invited Seavers.
&nbs
p; “I would indeed, my lord, but if that is what you Virginians consider hard labor, I’ll be settling here sooner than I expected.”
“And a welcome addition you would be, son,” Wesley said, dropping an arm around his shoulders and leading him downstairs.
Alicia fell back into the pillows, fighting the urge to scream. How dare the pirate come here to unsettle her new life! How dare Preston allow it! How dare her family actually approve of him! Her heart pounded with fury that he would presume so much.
And in another place in her heart, a place she would not acknowledge, there was a mellow song rising: he had come here.
SEVENTEEN
It was not in the least unusual for Geoffrey Seavers to be in no hurry to leave the Tildens’ fine accommodations; many visiting merchants and sea captains stayed on and on. But the situation put Alicia in dour spirits. Only Preston and she knew the intimate details of how Geoffrey had affected her life. And she could not think objectively when he was about.
In the morning, she waited to descend to the dining room until she suspected breakfast was finished. And her efforts to maintain an attitude of cheerfulness and joy were doubled, for she didn’t want to draw any attention whatever to her upset over Geoffrey. She greeted her mother in the kitchen with a kiss on her cheek. “Good morning, madam,” she cooed.
“I trust you’re well rested by now,” said Marguerite, smiling.
“I’ve become lazy,” Alicia said apologetically.
“Rest while you can, dear. I imagine your responsibilities will triple in years to come—as mine have.”
“Oh, madam, I could help you more. Please, what would you have me do for you this morning?”
“Alicia,” her mother sighed. “I don’t mean that I need your help. I mean that when you find yourself with as many to care for as I have, your days of lolling abed will be over.” She touched Alicia’s soft, ivory cheek. “I’m glad that you can be a little lazy. I think you deserve it.”
“I’m lazy only because you spoil me.”
“Well, I haven’t been able to for years. And I won’t be able to spoil you for long. You’ve grown up without me. Now, go sit down and let Etta bring you something to eat.”
Alicia happily took her seat in the lonely dining room and waited for the housekeeper to bring her tea and fruit. She smiled brightly at Etta’s appearance; the housekeeper kept a grim expression on her face in the best of times, and Alicia had become fond of it.
“Ah, you’re better,” she observed. “You work in the morning and do a little less in the afternoon. This heat gets better after the crops are brought in.”
“It was difficult for you, wasn’t it Etta?”
“It’s all new, t’be sure. But don’t you fret, you’re strong and healthy.” Etta stuck a chubby finger under Alicia’s chin and looked into her eyes. “Aye, you’re healthy. You’ll be fine, once you get used to it.”
“How long have you been here?”
“How long have the Tildens been here?” she countered.
Alicia shrugged. She didn’t quite remember when her family first sailed for America.
“I’ve been here just as long. Lord Tilden bought my papers just about the time his first grandson was due to be born. I barely got a proper meal before someone was havin’ a baby. Missus talked mostly ‘bout you when she held her first grandchild. Aye, a long time ago.”
“But you’re not indentured anymore,” Alicia remarked. “Why haven’t you gone back to England?”
“Lass, there’s no more England for me. My family is all gone and this is my family now. No, all I remember of England is Newgate, and I’ve no need to see that again.”
“Etta, was it horrible?” Alicia asked, remembering that her worst fear throughout the ordeal with Geoffrey had been imprisonment.
“Aye, it was grim. A foul nest. And I’d have been dead but for Lord Tilden. They planned to hang me.”
“For what?” Alicia heard herself ask.
“God’s bones, has no one told you about old Etta? They said I killed my husband!”
Alicia let her mouth drop open as she stared at Etta. She was large and muscular and had a stem, gruff appearance. She looked as though she could have strangled a man her own size. “But you didn’t,” Alicia insisted.
“Should have,” Etta said, shaking out a napkin and placing it on Alicia’s lap for her. “He was a worthless old mutt.”
“No more horror stories, Etta,” Marguerite’s voice came. She entered the dining room with a cup of tea in her hand and sat at the table opposite Alicia. Etta mumbled something and went back to the kitchen.
“She didn’t,” Alicia said to her mother.
Marguerite simply smiled and sighed. “I think Etta could defend herself or someone she loves by killing. But, no, I don’t think she did. I truthfully don’t care. She’s a good woman.”
Alicia nodded and began to spoon the berries and cream into her mouth.
“What plans do you have for your day?” Marguerite asked.
“Nothing, madam. I can do whatever you need done.”
“I have no chores for you, darling. But if you want the carriage for a drive, I can arrange it. Or is someone coming to call?”
“No one, to my knowledge, madam.”
Marguerite’s eyes became sad. “Is there a reason why you won’t call me Mother?”
“No, madam, I—I’m sorry, Mother. I still feel a bit like a guest here.”
“You needn’t. This is your home now. We are family.”
“Thank you, Mother,” she said solicitously.
“I think maybe the troubles with your father are smoothed over for now, Alicia. You were a trifle hard on him. He thinks only of your best interests.”
“I know that,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Is Bryson coming to call this week?”
Alicia sighed. “I’ve been hard on all of you,” she said. “I should give Bryson more understanding.”
“Not unless he is what you truly want, Alicia. Unlike your father, I do not consider your marriage of the greatest concern right now. But your father—”
“He only wants what’s best.”
“No, that’s not the whole of it, dear. He doesn’t understand that there was more to your life than we know about. He doesn’t understand that there are things you have to forget about England before you can settle yourself to a new life in Virginia.”
Alicia moved the berries to her mouth more slowly. There was indeed a great deal to forget, to undo, before she could consider romances—marriage. She wondered if she ever could.
She smiled at her mother, appreciative of the understanding, and put her spoon down to take a sip from her tea. She drank a little and replaced her cup, stretching her back and sighing.
“When do you expect your child will be born, Alicia?” Marguerite asked.
Alicia’s head snapped up in surprise and she stared at her mother with something akin to horror.
“I delivered six of my own children and have watched the grandchildren coming for several years. You are with child, aren’t you, dear?”
Alicia could not speak, but a tear gathered on her lashes and she simply shrugged at her mother, watching her through blurred vision.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Marguerite asked.
Alicia dropped her head and looked down. Tell her mother that she was part of a bargain with Lord Seavers to gain a dowry she had no right to? That she’d lain with him, though it was not part of their agreement, and that there was nothing for her now but emptiness and pain?
“You don’t have to confide in me, Alicia. It’s your affair.”
She looked up from her lap. “I’ve brought disgrace to your household. I can leave you and—”
“No, darling, I am not disgraced. And if you leave me now, my pain would triple what I felt fifteen years ago.”
“But, madam, what am I to do?”
“Is there a man you would name responsible?”
Alici
a shook her head. “I’m not unaware of the father, madam, but...”
“I see. Well there is a dowry and—”
“I’m sure he would be most grateful for that,” Alicia said bitterly, sniffing back her tears.
“Alicia, I would not allow your marriage to a cruel and selfish man. If you do not love him, then the subject is closed. He won’t marry you. But I trust you will remember that love and passion are not always one and the same; willingness to provide for you and protect you can be a man’s greatest display of love.”
“I do believe that, madam. I do.”
“Then you will know what to do, Alicia. I have no fear.”
But Alicia simply shook her head and let the tears flow. She didn’t have the vaguest idea what she should do: confront Seavers and let him inherit again through marriage; carry on the courtship with Bryson and let him carry Seavers’s debt; or simply bear her own disgrace and birth the child without naming a father.
“Alicia,” her mother was saying, “it seems urgent, but it is not.” She looked up at her mother. “You are already caught; a little while longer won’t matter much.”
She nodded piteously, not sure whether offending her family with less than virtuous behavior, or her own dilemma, burdened her the more.
“You needn’t make a decision yet.”
“But madam, I—”
“You have time, Alicia, and I mean for you to use it. Do nothing until you have thought this over. I can assure you, I am the only one to notice.”
Marguerite rose from her seat and moved to Alicia’s side of the table, bending to place a kiss on her brow. “I think even you refused to notice until now.”
“I had hoped it was not so,” Alicia murmured.
“I know, darling. And I promise you, you are not the first maiden to be thusly burdened.”
Marguerite left the dining room as quietly as she’d come, leaving behind only her wisdom and understanding. And as Alicia thought about her mother’s words, she could not say that she’d been criticized or reprimanded. But no matter how understanding her mother had been, she strongly doubted her father would be as sympathetic. She vowed to let very little time pass before coming to some decision.
