by Kari Edgren
My heart skipped over his question, and I gazed at him without blinking. “Are we really married?” I asked, somewhat hesitant. Are you ready to give up your previous life and live in Pennsylvania as Henry Kilbrid? Are you ready to accept that I am Goddess Born?
Henry stared at me, unspeaking, and I glimpsed the inner torment playing out in his beautiful green eyes. “We...” he started before swallowing hard over the remaining words.
I leaned forward in tense anticipation. What are we?
A shadow passed over his face, and he pulled his gaze from mine, letting it fall to the ground. “We’re going to be late.”
Henry guided the horses into a field adjoining the Oswalds’ house. The surprising number of carriages and wagons already lined up promised a good showing.
Lanterns lit up the grounds, and we followed a path to the far side where the dinner was to be held. As we rounded the house, a large crowd of people came into sight, milling about and chatting. Every household who owned land, operated a business, or held a professional position in Hopewell had been invited. From what I could tell, the number of people present exceeded the original guest list, and my heart swelled with gratitude at this open show of support.
Upon seeing us, Nora immediately broke from a group of young ladies. “It’s about time,” she said. “I was beginning to think that you got lost on the way.” More people followed after Nora, and we were soon surrounded by a sea of guests.
What a stark contrast from the other night in front of the meetinghouse! Rather than stern faces and harsh voices calling out for punishment, Henry and I were greeted with smiles and hearty congratulations. The men repeatedly patted Henry on the back while I received countless kisses on the cheek. Everyone was in jubilant moods and jostled for an opportunity to offer us their best wishes.
Martha Oswald finally intervened, calling us out from the midst of the crowd. “All my preparations will be for naught if you smother the guests of honor before dinner is even served.”
Henry took my arm and carefully steered us through the mass of people to where Martha was waiting. “Good evening, Mrs. Oswald,” he said.
“And a good evening to you.” Martha put ceremony aside and pulled Henry into a hug. With a small pat on the cheek, she released him and embraced me next. “You look radiant tonight, Selah. How I wish your mother could be here to see you.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
“I’m sure she would be pleased to have you acting in her place.”
“I’m glad to do it. And all these people here tonight share in my feelings that you deserve a party after what you’ve been put through. Now, come this way to the head table. I’ve heard more than one stomach grumbling while we waited for you to arrive.”
We followed Martha past rows of tables till we reached one set up on a short wooden platform. Garlands of white roses had been tied around the edge, and several bouquets sat on top, nestled amongst the pewter place settings. Henry and I took our seats in between Martha and her husband Amett. Anne and Gideon Boyle, the Goodwins, and the Oswalds’ two eldest children, Karl and Katrina, filled in the remaining seats. The other guests waited for us to be seated, then filled in the remaining tables.
Maids and farmhands especially hired for the occasion began to carry out the food. I watched in delight as large platters of roasted pheasants, pigs and venison were set down, followed by boiled potatoes, squash puddings and large baskets of Indian corn bread. My mouth watered in anticipation, though not a morsel could be touched until Gideon blessed the meal. He stood with great dignity, and for five full minutes waxed eloquently on the bounty of the feast and the joyous occasion that had brought us all together. While he prayed, Henry took my hand beneath the table, his grip noticeably tightening when I tried to pull away. My skin tingled delightfully from his touch, and I promptly conjured up images of gangrene and nasty abscesses to keep proper control of my senses. A resounding Amen was quickly followed by happy voices and the clatter of utensils.
While everyone talked and served their plates, Henry leaned over to whisper in my ear. “People may begin to suspect the harmony of our union if you keep pulling away from me.”
I tried to keep a pleasant tone, but I was growing increasingly frustrated by his complete lack of understanding. “Well, if you would stop grabbing me, then I wouldn’t have any reason to pull away,” I whispered back.
He stiffened and dropped my hand. “Please accept my apologies.” He promptly turned his attention to Amett, who sat directly to his left.
In a matter of seconds, my appetite had disappeared. Why couldn’t you just keep your stupid mouth shut for once! It wasn’t Henry’s fault that I couldn’t contain myself, that his touch drove me crazy. He had only meant to be kind, and earned a stern rebuff for his efforts. I wanted to apologize, but he continued to studiously ignore me.
To my right, Martha spoke to Anne, and Nora was too far away for any polite conversation. I occupied myself with pushing bits of pheasant around my plate, and looking out at the other guests. Everyone was eating and laughing, caught up in the gaiety. Everyone except for Phoebe, who sat at a nearby table, watching me with a knowing smile. I smiled back the best I could, then tried to return my attention to the pheasant.
The sun was long set when the meal finally came to a close. Henry had continued to ignore me, even when cups of wine and spiced cider were raised in our honor. Desperate to make amends, I nearly reached under the table at one point to take his hand in a sort of nonverbal apology. My fingers twitched with indecision, but in the end I held back for fear of crying if he rejected me.
The sound of musicians came from the house, signaling that the dancing would soon begin. Amett stood up and hit a knife against a pewter mug to get everyone’s attention. “The fiddlers are calling,” he said jovially. “Gentleman, please escort your ladies inside. Henry and Selah will open the festivities with a minuet followed by a country dance of their bidding. After that, Henry has promised to dance with our single ladies, and I’m sure Selah will have her own list of contenders.”
A small cheer rose up from the guests. Henry stood and politely pulled out my chair, but offered nothing else, not even his arm as we walked toward the house. My heart ached from the return of the cold formality that had marked the first days of our acquaintance.
The minuet was a daunting dance, usually performed by one couple at a time for the benefit of the other guests. With all eyes focused on Henry and me, any missteps or awkward moves were sure to be noticed and spoken of throughout the evening. I tried to care, but when the music started, I moved like a sleepwalker, barely aware of my own limbs. Our eyes met where appropriate, though we might have been complete strangers from the indifference in his gaze. No sign of tenderness remained, not even a shadow of his previous sentiments. A chill gripped my heart, dug into the vulnerable tissue until I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Glancing toward the audience, I found Phoebe watching him like a hawk. Her lips curled as she assessed the situation and prepared to swoop in at the first opportunity.
The minuet mercifully ended, and Henry called out Betty Fair, the popular country dance, which brought a flood of happy couples to the floor. Having secured Karl Oswald for a partner, Phoebe took her place right next to me. The music started, and we went through the steps, Henry practically a ghost at my side.
During this painful exercise, one thing became abundantly clear—I had to tell Henry what I was, or lose him altogether. In truth, it was no easy decision. For years I had been forbidden to give my secret away, knowing that doing so would only lead to persecution and possibly even death. A fair chance remained that Henry would think me mad once he heard my whole story, even knowing in advance that I was somehow different. But I was going to lose him either way, if my silence continued.
At the end of the second dance, I held onto his elbow and attempted to guide him outside before there was time to cha
nge my mind. It’s now or never...With my eye on an open door that led to the gardens, I groaned inwardly when Phoebe intercepted our path.
“Mr. Kilbrid, do you intend to keep your promise and dance with other ladies tonight?” she asked coyly.
“It would be my honor,” Henry said.
“But, Henry—” I started to protest.
“You don’t mind, do you, Selah,” he said with a tight smile. His eyes were darker than usual, like two hard emeralds.
I watched them walk away together, Phoebe hanging on Henry’s arm.
“I’m surprised she restrained herself this long,” Nora said, coming up alongside of me. “She’s a forward piece of baggage if ever I saw one.”
Nora was exactly what I needed at the moment. “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you having a good time?”
“Better than you, I’m afraid. Why are you and Henry fighting?”
“It’s of little importance,” I lied.
“Then you need to kiss and make up,” she said while tapping her foot to the music, “before you spoil the only ball I’ll ever be allowed to attend without being disowned. Besides, Henry can’t possibly stay mad, with the amount of skin you’re showing tonight. Poor William has refused to even come over here for fear of being caught gazing longingly at your copious bosom.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. “Did he really say that?”
“Not in those words exactly, but I’ve always been gifted at reading in between the lines.”
The music ended, and I began to look anxiously for Henry. Peering through the couples exiting the floor, I spied him next to Phoebe. He was saying something, and Phoebe tilted her head and laughed. She then tapped his arm playfully with her closed fan.
“The shameless hussy,” Nora said, reading my very thoughts. “When will she accept that you and Henry are married?”
I had to swallow my caustic reply when Karl Oswald came over and asked me to dance. Taking his arm, I excused myself and went to line up with the other couples. Henry and Phoebe returned to the floor together, Phoebe glowing with pleasure. Tears pricked at the back of my eyes from how much they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.
After just one dance with Karl, I begged a rest and returned to Nora. “You look absolutely miserable.” She put a consoling arm around my waist. “Would you like to go sit outside for a while?”
I nodded and started to turn when Phoebe came up to us. “What a wonderful ball,” she said. “I’ve never seen someone dance so well as Henry.”
“Yes, and you’ve been more than eager to sample his abilities,” Nora replied. “Tell me, do you find it exciting to throw yourself at married men?”
Phoebe narrowed her eyes, looking very much like she wanted to pounce on Nora. She then seemed to have a change of heart and smiled warmly at me. “It so unfortunate what happened at the meeting,” she said, her voice dripping with sympathy. “I could hardly believe it was you that Nathan saw in his vision.”
“His false vision,” Nora corrected her. “As you very well know.”
“Of course,” Phoebe laughed. “Though I’ve heard he’s gone to Philadelphia to further his complaint.”
Nora tightened her arm around my waist. “No matter where he goes, it doesn’t change the fact that Selah’s innocent.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re probably right and it will all come to naught, despite Nathan’s friendship with several of the magistrates.”
“What are you saying?” Nora asked.
“Just that it would be a shame if they decided Selah was actually guilty,” Phoebe said. “I can only imagine how lonely Henry would be if his wife were imprisoned or, dare I say, even hanged. I do wonder who would console him in her absence.”
I felt my lips compress in rage. “Are you offering?” I asked.
“You know, I’ve always been very fond of Brighmor,” she went on pleasantly. “Tell me, do you still have that hideous floral quilt on your bed?”
I balled my hands into fists as a bitter taste rose up in the back of my throat. Openly wishing for my death was low—even for Phoebe.
“You conniving little hus—” Nora started, biting back the last word when Henry approached.
“Good Evening, Nora,” he said politely. “I would ask for a dance, but fear you would only refuse me.”
“Yes, I would,” she said. “And from all I’ve seen tonight, dancing is a frivolous activity, devised purely for the sake of personal exhibition.”
“You may be right,” Henry laughed, “but I, for one, do not mind the exhibition.” He glanced at me then quickly looked away.
The conversation lagged awkwardly. Rather than coming up with something witty to say, I started to fuss with my necklace, making sure it was straight.
“Selah, that’s an unusual necklace,” Phoebe said. “Is it new?”
“It was a gift from Teme,” Henry answered for me. “He gave it to Selah in gratitude for healing him.”
“Isn’t he the chief’s son?” Phoebe asked.
“Yes,” I said, forcing myself to be polite in light of her previous comments. “Henry and I rode to the Lenape village a couple of weeks ago to help him.”
“He’s such a fine looking man,” Phoebe said. “And so wild, the way he rides around in nothing more than buckskin pants.”
“It’s their custom,” I said testily. “There’s no reason for him to dress like an Englishman.”
“Just ignore her, Selah,” Nora said, her dark eyes snapping with anger.
Phoebe sneered at Nora, but then creased her brows as though trying to sort out some great dilemma. “How very peculiar,” she said after a moment. “I would have never thought to wear a gift from another man to my own wedding party. Mr. Kilbrid, you are a most liberal-minded husband.”
A shadow crossed Henry face as he studied my neck. “More so than you can imagine.”
“Oh, my!” Phoebe cried delightedly. “Someone just called for the Collier’s Daughter. I do love that dance. Henry would you mind escorting me again?”
“My pleasure,” he said, and offered his arm. Phoebe took it, smiling triumphantly.
I wanted to cry. Or snatch Phoebe bald-headed. Either one would have done just fine.
Nora’s hold on my waist grew uncomfortably tight. “What nerve!” she hissed. “How dare she behave like that at your wedding party? I swear if I weren’t a Quaker, I’d thump her to a pulp this very minute!”
“Henry doesn’t appear disappointed by her attentions.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Look at him, Nora. Do you see any indication that he’s not pleased to be standing up with her again?”
Nora watched him for a minute before responding. “Well, no,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t prefer to be dancing with you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. If a man were ever in love, it’s Henry Kilbrid.”
I shook my head, well aware of the truth. I was too different for someone like him to truly love. Phoebe, in all her malicious, conniving simplicity, would make him much happier than I ever could...
“Excuse me, Selah,” a man said from right behind me. “Would you care to dance?”
I turned and saw Mark Flanders, the man whose heifer I had been accused of killing.
“Go on,” Nora whispered conspiratorially in my ear. “It would be a shame if Phoebe were to catch a heel and topple up tail in front of everyone. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened already the way she’s prancing about.”
My eyes suddenly filled with a vision of Phoebe sprawled on the dance floor. “It would be my pleasure,” I said, smiling sweetly at Mark. “And look, there’s an open place right next to Miss Trumble...”
* * *
It was well past midnight when we started for home. Jealousy fumed like an i
nferno inside me, taking the chill from the night air, while Henry was so distant, even the stars in their perch high up in the dark sky felt closer. We both remained absolutely silent until Henry stopped the shay in front of the carriage house. He let the reins go slack, but made no movement to get out.
“Once Nathan is found, I will be returning to England,” he said coolly, without so much as looking at me.
I pursed my mouth to keep from yelling. “Will you be taking Phoebe with you? When you’re in England, there won’t be anything to get in the way of your attachment.”
Henry turned toward me, his face etched with fury. “What are you talking about?”
“I just assumed, based on how much fun you were having tonight.”
He snorted with derision. “Fun is the last word I would use for tonight. Without a doubt, it was one of the worst evenings I’ve spent in the Colonies. Or ever, for that matter.”
“I would never have guessed by the way you two were carrying on.”
“You’ve no right to judge me,” he said, his voice rising. “I asked her to dance one time tonight. After that she hounded my every movement. What was I supposed to do? Refuse her requests? It’s not like my wife was vying for my attention.”
My chin jutted forward. “She’s a beautiful woman. I’m sure it wasn’t too much of a hardship for you.”
“I could say the same thing about Teme. After I’m gone, just how long will you wait to marry him?”
“Marry Teme?” I said incredulously. “Don’t be absurd.”
“You wore his necklace tonight. To our wedding party. What else am I supposed to think?”
“He only made that offer out of respect for my family,” I huffed. “Do you have any idea how bad such a marriage would be for him, or what an awful wife I would make? I’ve never been taught to skin a deer or to cook. The man would starve in a week if he had to rely on me to take care of him.”
Henry looked down, studying the reins in his hands. “I misread your intentions. It was wrong to presume.”
