The Unwilling Bride

by Candy-Ann Little

  “Dillon, do you want to see the plans for the dome that will be built.” Jefferson never even looked at Caitlin.

  Caitlin didn’t even have time to be miffed at the sudden shift in the conversation, before Dillon defended her. “I am sure Caitlin would be delighted to see the plans. She is the one in charge of Regal Hall. I have had neither the time nor inclination to oversee the task. She’s proven herself far more capable than I.”

  “Your wife is more than a tempting armful. She has a good head on her shoulders also.” Jefferson winked at Dillon. “I like that quality in women.”

  “I also have good ears and happen to be standing right here.”

  “Please, forgive me for being so rude. ‘Tis been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the company of a young lady. I fear my manners are a bit rusty.” Jefferson smiled and bowed slightly.

  “Apology accepted, if I can see the plans.”

  “Follow me and I shall show you the diagrams.”

  If Caitlin had been amazed by the architecture of the house so far, this dome far exceeded her expectations. “What a wonderful concept. But, what will you do with a room surrounded by glass?”

  “Perhaps it will be an extra bedroom, maybe an office. I have not decided what to do with it yet. I fell in love with the concept and decided to build it.”

  “I noticed that several rooms are this octagon shape,” Caitlin commented.

  “Yes. There’s something about the shape that appeals to me.”

  “It is so unique.” Caitlin went off to the corner talking with Jefferson, leaving Dillon by himself.

  He’d started to wonder about the wisdom of defending Caitlin. Her sharp mind seemed to attract Jefferson’s attention. Perhaps I should have let him keep treating her as an inferior, he sighed. Then Caitlin would be by my side, not another man’s. Dillon tried to control the unruly feelings recoiling through him, but they only increased as the tour continued.

  Upon entering the parlor Caitlin noticed several game tables were positioned around the room, along with sofas and chairs. The unpainted, plaster walls were covered with gilded framed paintings. But the truly, eye-catching focal point of the room was the parquet floor, which Jefferson designed himself.

  A pianoforte and a harpsichord were situated in the corner with several music stands. Caitlin walked over, running her hand along the smooth, cool wood of the musical instrument.

  “My wife loved to play the pianoforte,” Jefferson informed them.

  “Caitlin plays very well,” Dillon boasted.

  “I like to play the violin,” Jefferson informed them. “When I was courting Martha I came to call one day and two other suitors were waiting in the hall. When we started to play together, they became angry and left. Apparently we played together so well that even they knew we were a perfect match.” Jefferson’s tone softened as he remembered his late wife.

  “You never found another woman that played music as beautifully?” Caitlin noted his loneliness.

  “I do not have the time for courting. Perhaps, you could do me the honor of accompanying me tomorrow night. We can play a duet at the dinner.”

  “Me?” Caitlin spun around in surprise. “Mr. Jefferson, ‘twould be an honor.” Excitement pulsated through Caitlin’s body, beaming out of every pore. Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks flushed. Even her smile was wider. Dillon could have sworn that beams radiated from her ear openings. Of course, this only served to make her more beautiful. Therefore adding to his agitation.

  He was married to the most beautiful woman, yet, she didn’t now, nor would she ever love him. No matter how hard he tried. Nothing would wash away the stigma of English blood.

  Caitlin’s idle chattering echoed down the long hall as they made their way to the bedroom. “Can you believe that he wants to play a duet with me?” She pointed to her chest. “Me, Dillon.” She twirled around, her red skirts billowing out. “I must start practicing at once.”

  “You play beautifully, my dear. Do not be so anxious.”

  “But this is Thomas Jefferson. I shall never play as well as him.”

  “You have never heard him play. Perhaps he’s only mediocre.”

  “Are you jesting?” Her awe of the man continued. “The man has a brilliant mind. Did you see all things he has invented? Do you wonder what it must feel like to imagine pictures in your mind and shape them into existence? Oh, and his love of music and books, he is the smartest man I have ever met.”

  Dillon had never experienced resentfulness before. But as the iron claw of jealousy tightened around his gut that was all he felt. He resented the fact that Thomas was born in the United States while he’d been born in England -- the sworn enemy of his wife. He also resented his brilliant mind, and resolute attitude. Although these qualities were good for a future president, they may well intrude into his relationship with Caitlin. The need to defend his position as husband intensified, along with the yearning of wanting his wife to come to love him.

  “I find it hard to believe that you have been so inspired by a man who defends slavery.” He held open the door to their bedroom.

  Caitlin swept past him, the scent of rosewater wafting around her like a thick cloud. Once in the room she spun around to meet Dillon’s eyes. “I do not understand the problem. You are working with the man, helping him to get elected at the next election.”

  “I strongly disagree with his position on slavery. For a man who wrote ‘all men are created equal’ and keeps slaves proves hypocritical, do you not think?”

  “If slavery is so unsavory to you, why are you helping his campaign?”

  “Because it’s the only way to bring back your family.”

  Caitlin merely stared, unable to say anything. She hated when he said things that she couldn’t argue with. The man was constantly amazing her. Finally finding her voice she asked, “so you are helping elect the next president even though you do not agree with his policies?”

  “I must confess that I have always been more conservative. Except for these acts, I have always been behind President Adams. He has instituted these acts only to silence Jefferson and other opponents, but in doing so he has overstepped the boundaries of the Constitution. Most Americans are turning against him because of this one fault.” Staring deeply into her green eyes he continued. “I can assure you that if there were any other way to bring your parents back, I’d do it,but supporting Jefferson is the only way. Once he is elected he will have the power to overturn the sedition acts. Then your parents can come home.”

  Caitlin’s heart raced. Her breathing became uneasy. Why must these symptoms occur whenever he looked at her like that? Taking a deep breath she tried to clear her mind. “So you are going against your personal principles to help my family?”

  “’Tis the only way.” Dillon spread his feet, locking his hands behind his back. Although this was his normal stance, tonight it served to keep his hands under control. The only thought running through his mind was the feel of her soft, smooth skin.

  Breathing deeply wasn’t working, so she turned away, walking over to the washbasin. Pouring water from the porcelain pitcher into the large bowl gave her time to collect her thoughts. Not knowing how to handle the unknown feelings recoiling through her body, she resorted to a familiar tactic. “I find it hard to believe that you could criticize a brilliant man like Mr. Jefferson then stand there thinking you are some hero, admitting that you are giving up the very principles you believe in just for my family. Am I to swoon over your generosity?” She spun around, anger sparkling in her eyes. “Do you think I will fall into the marriage bed with you just because you have done this great and noble deed? ‘Tis only so in your sight, sir. I find it outrageous that you’d abandon morality and principles for any reason.”

  Dillon felt as though she’d slapped him in the face. He didn’t know which stung more: her defense of Jefferson, or the belittling of his moral standards. “’Tis the thanks I get for helping you.”

  “I never asked for your help. When
I did ask for assistance you refused. If you’d gone to my father you could have stopped the nuptials.”

  “Even now that you know everything that transpired, you still do not see why your parents and I took this course of action. What will it take to get through that thick, bull-head of yours?” Anger and exasperation seeped into his tone.

  “I do not now, nor will I ever see why I had to marry you. I would have been just fine in Ireland with my family. Instead I’m stuck in a foreign land, married to a blockhead.”

  Dillon’s brown eyes turned hard. The muscle ticking in his jaw accelerated, looking ready to explode. He stepped closer. “Woman, you could weary the self-control of a monk.”

  Caitlin took a step back in fear. She’d never seen him so angry.

  “You may not like the idea of being married, but whether you approve or not the vows have been spoken. I expect you to behave as a proper wife.” Unclenching his jaw slightly he asked, “Have I not been a good husband? You have an unlimited expense account. Are you not arrayed in the finest fashions? Have you a clue how much your clothing costs? Why, that hat alone cost as much as the entire dress.”

  Caitlin bristled. “I have been a proper wife. If you are talking about the marriage bed, may I remind you, Mr. Cade that you agreed to the circumstance before the wedding. I would be nothing more than a stumpet if I bedded you for expenses and clothing.”

  “I am not referring to our little arrangement. I am talking about acting respectably in public, especially around other men.”

  “How dare you!” Her fists tightened into two balls. “You parade your mistress in front of the whole town then accuse me of improper actions.”

  “Oh, for the love of …!” Dillon physically felt his stomach knot. “We are back to Henrietta again. You will do and say anything to make me angry. You constantly twist facts to make you look like a victim and me the bad guy. Well, I have had enough! You have pushed me too far.” Grabbing his dinner jacket, he stalked to the door. “You want to be on your own? Fine. I am not giving you any more money. From now on you will have to work and pay your own expenses.”

  Caitlin jumped at the slam of the door. Usually fighting left her feeling invigorated. Tonight she only felt scared and a little lonely. She’d never seen him so angry. However, she had the impression there was something else going on.

  The empty room surrounded her. The anger still residing in the corners. She shivered at the thought of sleeping alone in this strange house. She wanted Dillon back. He always made her feel safe even though that was one of the reasons she disliked him so.

  * * *

  Caitlin surveyed herself in the long gilded mirror that hung on the parlor wall. It was one of a matching set. Mr. Jefferson explained that the two mirrors helped enhance the light in the large room.

  Although right now lighting was the farthest thing from her mind. She was determined to have a grand time no matter what Dillon said or did. Running a nervous hand over the creamy satin of her wedding dress was useless since there were no wrinkles. Lucy kept the clothing in immaculate shape. She sighed, replaying the fight from the night before. She had been spending frivolously.

  “You look beautiful.”

  Caitlin saw Dillon reflected in the mirror. His brown curls pulled back in the usual ponytail. “You wore the suit from our wedding?” Her throat seemed tight.

  “’Tis the finest suit I own. I like your hair without any headpiece. Your vibrant curls are all you need to adorn your head.”

  “You should watch such talk, sir. A lady could misconstrue that as a compliment.”

  Dillon’s thick, brown brows arched in silent amusement.

  Caitlin merely spun around and stepped past him. Dillon followed her to the dessert table. Looking at the array of pies, cakes, and other sweets only made her feel more full. She didn’t have room for one bite, however she wanted to divert attention away from Dillon. Choosing a sweet meat pie she nibbled at the corner. “Delicious,” she moaned. “Only the best will do for Mr. Jefferson.”

  Dillon stiffened at that remark. He didn’t know why he felt so angry towards their host, certainly not because of the difference in political views. He’d been here several times and accepted the slaves as part of Jefferson’s house. Why did watching the slaves who’d prepared the feast, and now served it, bother him so much? Why did his wife even speaking Jefferson’s name twist his gut?

  “Mrs. Cade, there you are.” Thomas Jefferson approached with his tall, lanky frame clothed in black. His red hair was hid under a white wig with two large curls on each side. A black, leather tie held the fake ponytail in place. I’d like to introduce you to my youngest daughter, Mary.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Caitlin curtsied.

  “Please do not be so formal,” Mary laughed. The blue, empire dress brought out the blue in her eyes, making them sparkle with warmth, which immediately set Caitlin’s fears to rest. “Mr. Cade, do you mind if I steal your wife for a while? It is so nice to finally have someone my own age to talk with.”

  “Of course not.” Dillon smiled.

  “Do not be off too long. Mrs. Cade has promised to play a duet with me,” Thomas reminded her.

  Mary linked her arm through Caitlin’s and they wove their way through the crowd. Mary started introducing Caitlin around. Eventually Caitlin’s anxiety decreased and she started enjoying herself.

  “Your wife seems to be the center of attention,” Jefferson noted.

  “She’s always been corky,” Dillon agreed. He watched as she laughed and talked with everyone. Her brilliance filled the room. How could men not take notice of her? She wasn’t really doing anything to attract attention. So why did he not like the way men looked at her as she walked by?

  Trying to combat these unexplained feelings felt useless. He was becoming more agitated by the minute. When a black servant, dressed in formal attire, offered him a glass of wine, he accepted. Taking the goblet from the silver tray he tentatively sipped the dark, tart, drink. The strong alcoholic taste overpowered his senses, reminding him why he didn’t drink.

  However, when he noticed Caitlin gliding across the dark and light checkered floor on the arm of Thomas Jefferson, he drank the mixture down in one gulp, grabbing another glass.

  As the evening continued Caitlin laughed and talked with everyone in the room. As she became the belle of the ball his demeanor became even sourer. And, when she played the pianoforte while Jefferson accompanied with the violin, he stalked out of the parlor, went into the study and poured a glass of brandy. The only thing stronger than the whisky coursing through his veins was his anger.

  Chapter 12

  Caitlin happily hummed as she took off the silver ear bobs and put them in a box. Lucy bustled around the room picking up discarded garments, folding and putting them away.

  “Wasn’t tonight the most romantic night ever,” Lucy sighed.

  “’Twas a very grand party,” Caitlin agreed.

  “You were the prettiest lady there.”

  “’Tis an exaggeration. There were many beautiful ladies.”

  “For sure, it’s the truth. Even Johnny agreed.” Lucy set about unpinning Caitlin’s hair.

  Caitlin noticed Lucy’s eyes brighten in the reflection of the mirror. “Did you and Johnny have a nice time?”

  “Oh, yes.” Lucy nodded vigorously. “We watched everyone dancing for a while, then we went into the garden and danced. There was something magical about dancing underneath the moon and stars.”

  “I take it you were properly chaperoned?” Caitlin may be unconventional, but she wasn’t a fool. Some rules were set in place to protect you and must be followed.

  “Oh, yes. There were slaves all over the place. We were never truly alone. It just felt that way.”

  “Very well, then. I’m glad you had a nice time.”

  Lucy finished with the pins then picked up the large, silver brush. “Caitlin, what do you think of slavery?”

  Caitlin’s green eyes started in the mirror.
“Why do you ask?”

  “It just seems so sad to me.” She ran the brush through Caitlin’s red locks. “I mean, not only do the slaves not get paid for all their work, but they don’t have any say over their own lives.”

  Caitlin could certainly identify with that. She’d had no control over recent events in her own life. The scariest feeling in the world is the loss of control. She couldn’t imagine being born into a world where you never had any say over anything that happened to you.

  “I think it is sad too,” Caitlin conceded. “But there are people who think it’s an acceptable lifestyle. There is nothing we can do about it.”

  “But is that not why we vote people into office? So they can change things?” Lucy finished braiding Caitlin’s hair.

  “I suppose you’re right. Voting people into office with the same ideals as you could change things. But some things are left up to God.” Caitlin stood and Lucy helped her into the cotton robe, then went to her own room.

  Caitlin paced the room, waiting for Dillon to return. Of course, the possibility of him going directly to his room was great, but she thought he’d at least make an appearance and say good night.

  * * *

  Dillon stumbled down the hall, running into a table and knocking over a vase. It crashed to the floor with a shattering force that rumbled through his eardrums. The crystal crunched under his feet as he continued to swagger down the hall towards the bedroom. Knocking hard on the door, he didn’t wait for a reply before barging in, stumbling over his own feet.