by Robyn Carr
And at this point, she preferred a life with Bryson to allowing Geoffrey to stumble upon another rich dowry.
Alicia spent the day in deep thought, coming to no conclusions at all. Etta brought her a cool drink in the afternoon and sat down on the veranda beside her, something Etta almost never did.
“That fancy Lord What’s-his-name been askin’ after you, lass. He’s waitin’ to know how yer doin’ now and I told him you’re a strong woman; no need for him to fret ‘n fear.”
Alicia did not respond, hoping to discourage the discussion.
“That’s one fancy lord, that What’s-his-name—”
“Lord Seavers, Etta.”
“Aye, Seavers. He’s thinkin’ about stayin’ on a long time, he is. He’s got his land here and—”
“His land is here?” Alicia said.
“Aye, as he tells it. That boy’s thinkin’ is mightly like all these Tilden men: he’s thinkin’ ships ‘n’ fields and women.” Etta laughed at herself. “I think he’s mighty interested in you.”
Alicia stood up abruptly and brushed at her skirts. “And why should that surprise anyone, Etta? I’m sure one of the first things he heard about was the new Tilden woman with the dowry.”
Etta simply cackled. “That dowry talk gettin’ in the way of your eyes, lass?”
“No, but it gets in the way of everyone else’s!” Alicia huffed, stepping down off the porch and starting to walk at a brisk pace. She moved quickly, cursing under her breath. Seavers only compounded her delicate problems. She turned once to see Etta finish her drink and go back into the house, back to her chores. And Alicia kept walking, trying to clear her head.
The wooded areas around the Tilden house reminded her of the land around the inn, the place she would dodge to, to keep out of sight when Armand thought of additional chores. And now she entered the wooded path to keep from having any more discussions about Seavers, marriage, and other such confusing topics. After she’d passed a little time plucking wildflowers and enjoying the trees, she was ready to face the house again, but as she would have approached it, she spied Geoffrey and Preston just rounding the corner to go inside. They saw her at exactly the same time and stopped to stare at her for a moment.
Alicia tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders and turned on her heel, heading back toward the river. But too late, for Preston called to her.
I will not turn, she silently vowed, taking longer strides. I will not.
She heard his footfalls as he came up behind her, and she also heard that he came alone, a fact that heightened her rage. And then she felt his hand on her arm to halt her, and she turned with a curse on her lips.
“Unhand me, you—”
“You shouldn’t be this far from the house alone, darling,” Preston said. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”
“I thought you were—”
“I know.” He nodded toward the house and Alicia saw that Geoffrey stood on the veranda talking with Marguerite. “Don’t you think you should talk to him?”
“Not if I can avoid it,” she muttered.
“He’s come to see you, of course,” Preston said.
“And why did you let him? You knew I wished only to be free of him! Why didn’t you tell him to go away?”
Preston grabbed her by the arms and looked down into her eyes. “He is a friend of this family, not just me. And his land is just upriver: land he was granted by the king for his bravery in battle. If he chooses to stay in Virginia, in this house for the next year, he will be made welcome, Alicia.”
“And so that bloody pirate and thief can be coddled by this whole family, while his only intention is to make me miserable.”
Preston nodded. “Unless, of course, you wish to tell your parents what the scoundrel has done to you.”
“Oh, certainly,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and turning with a pout.
“I feel certain they’d come to your colors.”
“What do you imagine I could have done to him?” she asked tartly. “Could I have him gelded?”
Preston laughed heartily, draped an arm around her shoulders, and started her back toward the house. “More likely Father will insist he marry you. Legitimately, that is.”
“Does he mean to make a great deal of trouble for me?” she asked her brother.
“I would guess,” Preston said and shrugged.
“Well, what am I to do? I can’t tell them. And I can’t make him leave. And I can’t abide being in the same country with him!”
“You could tell them, if it comes to that.”
“But I don’t want to! I like it the way it is; my past a private and forgotten affair and the future all left to my will.”
“So be it,” Preston said, walking.
She stopped suddenly and looked up at him, horror in her eyes. “Preston, he won’t tell them, will he?”
“I think he is less proud of the entire affair than you are. No, I don’t believe he’ll tell them.” Alicia turned with a sigh of relief and continued back with Preston, deciding she couldn’t avoid passing Geoffrey from time to time. “But I tell you true: he’s come here to see you.”
“Well, now he’s seen me, he can go,” she said stiffly, walking up the road to the veranda. As she climbed the last step, Geoffrey bowed briefly before her. She nodded and attempted to pass.
“You’re looking a good deal better, madam,” he said.
“Thank you, sir,” she said.
“I’m a little disappointed,” he said, unabashed that her own mother was standing right beside him. Alicia looked at him in awe.
“Disappointed?”
“Aye. I had my heart set on being present should you swoon again.”
Alicia pursed her lips. “I assure you, my lord, I shan’t swoon again. I’ll trust my own legs to get me where I’m bound.” And with that, she went into the house, her steps quick and sure.
The taverns at the wharves in Virginia were not unlike the ones in London, but perhaps just a little less crowded and a good deal newer and rougher in design. But like the ones in London, they were commonly visited by every sailor in port and every prostitute in the vicinity, and they were good places to gather information about people in the colony.
A tall, handsome, dark-haired man spent the better part of an afternoon in such a tavern, talking to various people, including the proprietor. He was a merchant from England who had booked passage to Virginia to investigate the trade. He called himself Samuel Tyler. And he asked after some of the people who monopolized the shipping trade.
“I’ve heard a great deal about the Tilden family,” he said. “I’ve been told they have a fleet of merchant ships that now number twenty.”
“At least that, friend. At the very least,” the innkeeper told him. “They might be the richest folk here, and if not, damn close to it.”
“All from shipping, no doubt.”
“They own a couple hundred Negroes and run a decent farm as well. And they breed like rabbits; two grandchildren a year at least. Give ‘em twenty years and they’ll own the coast.”
Tyler picked up his ale and pondered the mug. “A good many children, you say?”
“Five. Sons.”
Tyler nodded and drank.
“Make that to be six—their daughter’s just come home from England. Been there since she was a baby, they say.” The innkeeper leaned closer. “They say she was their lost baby, but won’t say where she’s been since.”
Tyler raised a brow and looked at the proprietor. “What difference?”
“There’s talk.” The innkeeper leaned closer. “The minute she turned up, old Tilden put a big dowry on the lass, like he’s trying to cover up for what she’s been. Folks around here are decent and God fearin’ and don’t much like the fuss over this girl, like she’s some kind of returned angel. By the looks of her, she’s been schooled real good. Real knowin’ around the men, and this is a decent, God fearin’ city.”
Tyler looked around the tavern
. The clientele was average for such a place: bawdy, reckless types, drinking too much, looking for illicit and temporary love, fighting whenever they were moved to. He looked back at the man he shared his conversation with. “Of course it is.”
“Argh,” the man scoffed. “What a man does in port don’t make no difference, but the folks that live here hold themselves as decent, God fearin’ types. And their children as well.”
“Well,” Tyler said, “I’m certain the Tildens are grateful to have their daughter home, whatever her circumstances before she was returned to them.”
“I’d say so, if they lie for her, treat her like gold, and show her off to the whole of this country. They been havin’ parties for the lass, takin’ her t’church, lettin’ her court—”
“Court?” he asked.
Again the man scowled. “The men around here seem to forget the other women. They want a piece of that Tilden company. I got me a daughter t’get married and I been watchin’ her all my life. I know she’s decent and clean. But the Tildens don’t care a hoot for decency. They show her off like she’s some queen come callin’. I say it’s a dirty shame.”
“You do?”
The man studied Tyler closely. “But I won’t be sayin’ that to any Tilden, you can be sure. And if anyone says I did, I’ll swear it’s a lie.”
Tyler laughed. “They give you a bit of business here, eh?”
“A good bit, an’ I’ll learn to hold my tongue around strangers for the keepin’ of it.”
“Not to worry, sir. I won’t be passing your gossip along. It’s safe with me.”
“I thought the Tildens to be good folk; honest and decent. I just can’t cotton to lyin’ about their dealings.
They’re passin’ her off fast as they can, an’ it ain’t honest. No matter to me, what they do, but just the same…”
“Never mind, I know what you mean. But, good sir, you must understand how a man and woman feel when their lost child’s come home at last.”
“Aye,” he acquiesced.
“Then a part of you understands their position, I’m sure.”
“I never said the Tildens were a bad bunch, Mr. Tyler. I just said it don’t sit well with me that they pass the girl off as decent when they won’t say a word about where she’s been all these years. They could clean up the gossip, but they don’t think they have to, see. Because they’re Tildens.”
“Certainly, sir,” he replied.
But as he sipped at his ale an appreciative smile grew on his lips, for the proprietor had said a great deal more than he even realized. So, Preston Tilden did bring her here as his lost sister, and the family accepted her as readily and faithfully as Charles had accepted her as Charlotte Bellamy. How refreshing he found the news.
Then, he wondered, who is the wench, in all truth? He had lain with her when she was a serving wench, danced with her in the king’s court, and would see her next as the daughter of a wealthy plantation lord.
England had not been saddened to see him go. His brother, the only family member to have held on to any money and title worth mentioning, would not help him any further. He accused him, as did Seavers, of killing his betrothed for her lack of inheritance. And King Charles had cast off his information in an angry and impatient move. Perry’d been told by every power he hoped would support him to push off and find his fortune some other way than through them.
His resources were low. There was no rich bride available for him to marry; no land grant and bonus for efforts in battle, because he had never fought; no bribes had come, since he had virtually no political power; and there was no trade he knew save courtly etiquette.
I wonder, he thought, how much Lord Tilden values his daughter’s life? A thousand pounds? Ten...?
A dinner table that took a year and seven months to finish and could seat thirty people was Wesley Tilden’s pride and joy. He’d worked as hard on the table as he had on the house, all in the hours that he was not farming or shipping or sailing one of his own vessels. He still found it hard to lay abed after six in the morning. And he still beamed with joy when his family and guests sat around that table for the evening meal.
It was here that Alicia faced her greatest trials these days. Not only was she self-conscious about her condition, but Bryson continued to be a regular guest, and now Geoffrey Seavers occupied a space at the long table.
She tried to avoid Geoffrey’s eyes during the meal, but almost every time she looked up, she found him staring at her. When Wesley Tilden put down his fork for the last time, she sighed with relief. She could finally leave the table.
“Would you like me to walk with you outside, Alicia?” Bryson asked.
“Thank you, Bryson,” she replied quietly. “I think not. I feel like being alone.”
He shrugged off his disappointment and joined the men in the study. She joined the women, who tended the young, nursing them or tucking them in, while the men sampled Wesley’s brews and tobacco, the latter of which Alicia found stank horribly and watered the eyes.
Alicia had no one to tuck in and soon became bored with her needlework. She was too restless to sleep, too anxious to sit, and too confused to talk. She excused herself from the sitting room early, fetched her shawl from her room, and stepped out into the night.
The stars seemed closer to the ground in Virginia. They were brighter. The air was clearer, of that much she was certain. But however clear, cool, fragrant, and jeweled the night, it did nothing to help her understand the complexity of her situation.
“It does refresh,” Geoffrey’s voice said behind her. She whirled, looked at him, and made to pass him.
“Alicia, don’t go. I’ll keep following you until you talk to me.
“There is nothing we need to discuss.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the necklace. She remembered it instantly and felt her heart jump when she saw it again. “You left this behind,” he said.
“I didn’t feel I had a right to it, sir. It belongs to the Bellamys.” She tried again to pass him.
“No, Alicia, I am not ready for you to leave,” he said, holding her arm.
“If you force me to scream, I promise you my father will come down hard on you.”
“You won’t scream, love, just because I touch you.”
“Don’t be too sure, Geoffrey, I—”
“If you force me to, I will explain my interest in your child.”
Alicia stared at him, shocked.
“It’s true, isn’t it? You carry our child.”
Alicia let out an exasperated gasp. That she was one of the last to realize her condition seemed absolutely ridiculous. But nonetheless, her mother and now Geoffrey had apparently guessed the situation.
He chuckled a little. “You’re just a tiny bit fuller than when you left me. And your eyes just a bit brighter, I think. I’m willing to stand responsible.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked in all sincerity. “Why would you convict yourself of your thievery, your lies...”
“Because you are my wife and you carry my child.”
“No,” she said stiffly. “No, my lord, I am an actress who was paid handsomely to play the part of your wife. And the child I carry may not be yours.”
He grabbed her arms and pulled her close, his green eyes angry and his jaw tensed. His hand slid to her belly. “Do you hate me so much that you would slander yourself? Alicia, I have come to make things right!”
“Too late,” she breathed. “Again, my lord, you have come too late.”
“Tell me that what you feel for me has changed,” he said, his voice hoarse and quiet.
Tears came to her eyes and she ground her teeth in frustration. She did not want to be hurt or angry. She wanted him to matter so little that she felt nothing when she faced him.
“Has what you feel for me changed?” she asked him. “You told me to go where I would; you would see the bargain through and be done. Has that changed?” she asked, stressing every word carefully.
“I could not bear to lose you.”
“Truly,” she said, a tear coursing its way down her cheek. “Or did you perhaps see yet another dowry waiting for your ardent pursuit?”
“Alicia, no...”
“And with another wedding, another dowry, you can perhaps build twenty ships: a fleet that would rival even the Tildens’.”
“Your love is all I sailed here to find,” he whispered. “Only your love, Alicia.” And his mouth came down on hers, overwhelming her with the familiar taste and texture that sent her mind reeling with excitement. A sob escaped when he released her.
“My love, Lord Seavers? I offered you that long ago, but you would not take it.”
“I was a fool.”
“And is it a coincidence that your love and my family name have come all at the same time?”
“Damn the family, it is you I want!”
“Never! I would never be sure! I will marry someday, Lord Seavers, and perhaps the lucky man will marry my purse, but at least I will be sure what he wants. With you it could always be more lies, more bargains.”
“You are mine, Alicia, whether you give credence to that or not. You will not marry another while I have breath in my body.”
“You cannot stop me!” she said with bravado.
“I can! And one day soon I will taste that sweet flesh again!”
Her hand came out of nowhere and struck his cheek, a ringing slap that left her palm red and sore and his cheek embarrassingly pink. He grabbed her again, again crushing her to him, his arms pressing her tightly against him as his mouth sought hers, devouring her, tasting her sweet freshness.
And he was above her, looking through her with those green eyes, the eyes she could not forget, the eyes that haunted her every dream, every memory.
“This battle wears on too long, Alicia,” he said.
“You know how to fight with fire and swords, Geoffrey. I know how to fight in this kind of war.”
“I will not give you up.”
“You will have to one day, my lord. I belong to no man.”
“You are mine!”
“I am my own!”
He released her gently and let her collect herself. She did not let it show that her knees threatened to give way and spill her on the ground.
