“Oh God please help me,” she whispered.
Chapter 11
Caitlin’s trepidation increased as she stepped through the east front door into the entrance hall. Tall windows that were more reminiscent of doors allowed large amounts of sunshine in to brighten the room. The rays bounced off the wooden floor and darted around the two toned room, making the white-washed upper half look as pure as new fallen snow, while bringing out the vivid yellow- orange of the bottom portion. A large white balcony not only connected the two mezzanine wings, but also served as a display area for a Mandan buffalo robe, and other animal skins.
The entrance hall was not only a waiting area. It was also a museum of interesting facts related to American history, western civilization, and Native American cultures. Amongst the art displays and busts of prominent people were Indian artifacts including, pipes, jewelry, and clothing.
“Mr. Jefferson certainly has a fondness for dead things,” Caitlin commented, as she looked at a display of bones.
“Mr. Jefferson has a fondness for history,” Dillon replied. “See this map?” He pointed to a yellowing piece of paper. “This map was made by his father, Peter Jefferson, and Joshua Fry.” Looking up to the balcony he pointed to the buffalo skin. “If you look closely there is a battle scene painted on that robe.”
A sound of commotion drew Dillon’s and Caitlin’s attention to the front door. The rest of their party bustled into the entrance hall.
“Oh, Caitlin have you ever seen anything so grand?” Lucy twirled around, excitement flashing in her blue eyes. “Even the ceiling is decorated,” she observed.
Caitlin tipped her head back and focused on the eagle and star pattern. “I had not even noticed that.”
“Oh, Caitlin, I can’t believe I am really standing in Mr. Jefferson’s entrance hall.”
“Umm. Umm.” Mrs. White loudly cleared her throat.
“I mean… Mrs. Cade.” Lucy hesitantly looked at Caitlin then back to Mrs. White, who smiled in appreciation at the formal use of the surname.
Caitlin could see the dilemma that Lucy was in. Obviously, Mrs. White had instructed her to use the proper address. Although Caitlin could understand the logic behind the command, she still didn’t like someone trying to take over her authority.
“Mrs. White, I have given Lucy permission to use my Christian name. I also give you leave to do the same.”
“No. Ma’am. ‘tis not proper.” Her stocky build seemed to widen as her broad shoulders went back in a huff. “I will address you as Mrs. Cade, or Mistress.” The wrinkles around her gray eyes deepened as the challenge was made.
Caitlin mentally counted to ten then calmly answered, “Do as you please.” She smiled sweetly. “I realize that you are from the old school and have a certain way of doing things.”
Mrs. White nodded her head and hid a smile of triumph. She was bound and determined to teach this young’n some proper manners.
“As mistress of the household I expect my orders to be followed. If you do not wish to address me as Caitlin, then do not. But, you cannot impose your will onto other people. If Lucy has no problem addressing me by my given name as I have asked, then you should not contradict me. It is confusing for Lucy, and for the other staff members.” Caitlin folded her arms across her blue, velvet spencer and stared at Mrs. White. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Aye, ma’am.”
“Very good. Now, why don’t you two go see how the men are coming along with our trunks?”
With a small curtsey Mrs. White left, followed by Lucy, who now wore the triumphant smile.
Suddenly feeling Dillon’s eyes on her, she turned, meeting his gentle gaze. She couldn’t decipher his emotion. He didn’t look angry. Neither did he look happy.
“I’m sorry if I was out of line.”
A small smile warmed his face. “You were not. A servant should never usurp your authority.”
“You are not upset with me?”
“You handled the situation perfectly. You let her know that you were in control without being harsh.”
“If you approve of my dealing with Mrs. White why do you look so disturbed?”
“I am perplexed.” His brown eyes grew intense as he asked, “Why are you so intent on not using my last name?” He’d felt like they were growing closer. Especially since he’d come forward and told her that he wanted more than a name only marriage. Although she needed more time, he’d noticed a softening in her attitude. However, the adamant refusal of his name made him wonder if he had not imagined the difference in her. Did she still view him as the enemy?
“I do not like being called Mrs. Cade.” She walked over the case holding the maps and pretended to study them. “’Tis no reason, I just prefer Caitlin.” She turned to face him. “’Tis nothing against you. I never liked being called Miss Gallager either. It’s so formal, and I am not a formal person.”
A heavy weight lifted. “I see.” He smiled. “As long as it is not a personal thing against me.”
“I assure you, ‘tis not.”
The entrance of a tall, thin, black man interrupted the conversation. “Sir. Ma’am” He bowed his graying head to each. “Mast’ah Jefferson will be detained long’ah than he thought. He said to show you to your rooms and he’ll be with you presently.”
They followed the servant through the massive rooms, admiring the enchanting décor, and the exquisite architecture.
“This, here, will be your room.” The servant showed them into an elaborately embellished, octagon shaped room.
Caitlin surveyed the trellis wallpaper, white fireplace, and gold framed portraits. The whole room had a French feel. “’Tis beautiful.”
“Mister James and Mistress Dolly often stay here when they visit.”
“The Madisons’ have slept in this very bed?” Caitlin pointed to the alcove bed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She found it hard to contain her excitement as she pondered who else might have used this room. After the servant left, Caitlin hoisted up her dress and ran across the room, leaping unto the bed with a giggle.
So enthralling was her laughter that Dillon didn’t bother to reprimand her for unladylike behavior. Besides, her care-free spirit was her most enduring quality. He’d never be the one to crush it.
“I’m sure it will not be long before Thomas calls for us. Do you want to freshen up?”
Caitlin rolled over, fluffing the pillow under her head. “I’d prefer to take a nap.” She stretched, and yawned. “This bed is so soft. You should try it.”
“I have already tried it, my dear.”
She propped herself up on her elbow. “Is this the room you stayed in?”
“Once. I have had a different room on each visit.”
“How many times have you been here?”
“Three.” Dillon noticed a little pucker creasing her brow. “Is something bothering you?”
“I just realized that there is only one bed. Do you plan on sleeping in here?”
“Most married couples do sleep in the same bed.”
“You have not made other plans?” She jumped off the bed in a snit. “If I must remind you, husband, our marriage differs greatly from other marriages.”
His soft laughter only spurred her anger more. “I will not be laughed at!”
He stifled his mocking tone. “I am only teasing. Something you seem to partake in quite often.”
“Then you do have other plans.”
“Not as of yet. However, the problem can be easily remedied all the while making our marriage look ligament.”
“How?”
“I will simply tell Thomas that my snoring is bothering you. He will then ensconce me in another room.”
“That sounds reasonable enough.” She admired his logic. He had a way of handling every situation in the most respectable and dignified manner. Of course it made him seem stuffy at times. However, the more she grew to know him, the less stuffy he seemed. He had an uncanny way of undoing every p
reconceived notion she held of him.
Without warning, Dillon charged across the room, grabbing her around the waist, and catapulting them through the air. Her scream was wrenched to a halt as the impact on the bed forced the air out of her lungs. Opening her eyes she found Dillon smiling.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“I wanted to try out the bed.”
“You could have done so without scaring the wits out of me?”
“That was the fun part.” Dillon laughed.
“You, sir, are a cad.” She pushed him away. “A rake. A no good, pompous dandy.”
His laughter made even her pretense at anger disappear. She started laughing with him. “’Tis not something I expected from you.”
“You must bring out the unexpected in me.” He tenderly smoothed back a curling tendril of her hair.
His rough hand gently scraped the soft skin on her cheek, producing a shudder that slowly seeped into her spin. She tried to force the feeling away. I won’t feel anything but hatred, she silently reminded herself. The venom of hatred was fading, and in its place was something stronger. Something compelling. Something so different and foreign that it scared her to death.
* * *
Caitlin stepped through the double doors of the Tea Room. The evening rays of the sun spilled into the room through large windows, bathing the unpainted plaster walls in shades of pale pink and orange. The soft, muted colors subdued the apprehension raging through her body. She placed a hand over her stomach and took a few deep breaths, trying to curb the anxious excitement that churned inside. She started smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her red silk dinner dress, while rehearsing her greeting for the hundredth time.
The sound of feet and male voices brought her head up with a snap. The gold fringe on the red turk, perched atop her curls, swayed slightly. She’d have to remember to not move her head so much since the crescent shaped hat didn’t have a ribbon and was only held in place by long pins.
The details of her well-prepared greeting fled completely with the entrance of the two men. She stared in utter wonderment at the tall, slender stranger next to her own husband. His fading, red hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, just like Dillon’s, and, although the cut of his suit expressed a wealth of power it didn’t give his physique the domineering, sexy quality that exuded from Dillon. Although Thomas Jefferson was much taller, he didn’t have the width of chest and shoulders that Dillon possessed. This effect made him look gangly. However, his serious, watchful eyes said he was a force to be reckoned with.
“Mr. Vice President, may I present my wife, Caitlin.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Cade.” Jefferson extended his hand.
“You too…I mean…I’m pleased also.” Somehow her hand ended up in Jefferson’s hand.
“You do me a great honor, madam.” Jefferson pressed a light kiss on the back of her gloved hand. “I cannot remember the last time my presence has made such a beautiful, young lady as yourself stammer.” His smile was sincere, but without the warmth and light-hearted manner that Dillon had.
“I am sorry, sir if I seem addle-minded.” Caitlin blushed. “I have never been in the company of someone so powerful. The honor is truly mine, Mr. Jefferson.” She curtsied.
“Why Mrs. Cade, you have the honor of being married to one of the most influential men in all of Virginia.” Thomas Jefferson stated. “Surely you are used to it by now.”
Caitlin was going to argue that Dillon merely owned a newspaper shop. Thankfully she realized the folly of the statement before it left her mouth. She was well aware of the regulations of society. She must adhere to them, even if she didn’t agree with them, especially in the presence of the potential future president.
Biting down hard on her tongue, she managed a smile and said, “Aye, my lord ‘tis true. However, being married to Dillon gives me a different perspective. He is just an ordinary man at home.”
Thomas gave that statement some consideration before smiling. “You will come to find that underneath all the flair and pompous airs, we are all ordinary men.”
Caitlin arched a red brow and smiled coyly. “Then we had better get this visiting done quickly. I want to become acquainted before the illusion of honor and prestige wears off.”
The sudden burst of laughter set her heart at ease. “Well, then, my dear Mrs. Cade, tea will be served promptly.” He clapped his hands and the servants started bustling around. “I thought we could take a tour of the house after we eat. If you are up to it.”
“Oh, that would be lovely. ’Tis such a beautiful house. I cannot wait to see more of it.” Caitlin’s excitement was contagious.
“This is my ‘most honorable suite’.” He extended his hand in a sweeping motion to reveal the important busts of his friends and heroes. “Besides dining, it’s my favorite place to read and write.”
“I can understand why. The view from here is inspiring.” Caitlin sat in the chair he offered her.
The slaves wheeled two carts to the table and everyone filled their plates with finger sandwiches, dainty desserts, nuts, and dried fruit. Tea and coffee were served, then left on the table for refills.
“That is the most unique coffee urn I have ever seen,” Caitlin commented.
“I designed it myself,” Jefferson informed her. “I have also had special goblets made.”
“Is there no end to your talent?”
“I truly hope not, Mrs. Cade.”
Dillon and Jefferson talked mostly about work through the course of the meal. Jefferson explained about the Kentucky Resolutions he’d written, which was a severe attack against the Federalists and opposed the alien and sedition acts. Furthermore, James Madison was working on a similar Resolution for Virginia. Caitlin listened to them talk about politics, and campaign strategies before the conversation turned to the famous Theobald Wolfe Tone.
She knew that Mr. Tone had been captured the month before. Although he’d managed to get support and supplies from the French army, the uprising was a military catastrophe. The Irish and French armies combined had still been severely outnumbered by the British.
However, Caitlin held out hope that Mr. Tone would escape. Surely God wouldn’t allow a man as dedicated as Tone die. Not when there was so much work still to do. Didn’t the Bible say that God is our strength, and he will deliver us?
Caitlin kept silent throughout most of the conversation, nodding and smiling, only voicing an opinion or asking a question once in a while. As tea time wound down the conversation turned back to topics more suitable for women -- such as; the meal, the dinner party tomorrow, and the remodeling of the house.
After the dishes were efficiently cleared away a frozen dessert was brought out. Caitlin had never seen anything like it. She wasn’t even sure which piece of silverware to use. Anxiously watching, she waited until Thomas picked up his spoon, then she did the same.
“Wait until you taste this, Mrs. Cade.” Jefferson took a spoonful. “Mmm. Perfect.”
Caitlin’s eyes darted to Dillon. He smiled reassuringly and took a bite as well.
She took a small spoonful. An unknown flavor burst on her tongue. The sweet, creamy confection slid down her throat, chilling a path to her stomach. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted,” she crooned.
“It’s ice cream,” Thomas informed her. “I developed a taste for it when I was in France, and couldn’t live without it. I bought some vanilla beans and started growing them right here at Monticello.”
The slight scent, she assumed must be the vanilla, tantalized her taste buds. She dug into the dessert, almost shoveling it into her mouth.
“I would recommend slowing down. You can receive a terrible headache if you consume it too quickly,” Jefferson warned.
“I am sorry, I did not mean to be such a glutton.” Her pale cheeks brightened in embarrassment.
“No need to feel embarrassed, Mrs. Cade. ‘Twas my first reaction the first time I ate the frozen concoc
tion. I merely wanted to prevent the same outcome I suffered.”
“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Jefferson.” Caitlin smiled then finished the rest of the dessert more slowly.
“I do hope you will forgive the mess. I am extensively remodeling the entire third floor,” Jefferson said as they toured the house. “I redesigned the upstairs about two years ago. And it’s still under construction.”
“Oh! We are redecorating Regal Hall. Perhaps I can gather some ideas. Your taste is extraordinary.”
“Thank you for the compliment.”
Caitlin’s admiration increased as they walked through the house. Not only was Jefferson the most influential man she ever met, but his talents in architecture and style superseded anything she’d ever seen. He’d not only designed the house, but invented most of the gadgets in it. His talent for inventions was only surpassed by his love of books.
Caitlin found the library to be the biggest she’d ever seen. “How can one man read so many books?” She questioned as she pursued the shelves filled with leather bound volumes. “Where does he find time?”
“Perhaps he has not read them all,” Dillon offered. Although he had quite an extensive library at home, he felt inadequate when compared to Thomas Jefferson.
The Unwilling Bride Page 17
