Folly's Bride

by Jane Peart

  Today’s first course was a chilled orange-lemon soup, followed by a squash souffle, fresh asparagus, cold sliced ham, and hot biscuits. When the dinner plates were taken away, crystal finger bowls were brought. Finally, a deep cut-glass dish of fresh sliced peaches was placed in front of Georgina. From this, she spooned individual portions into smaller dessert bowls.

  “Sara—” Georgina addressed her in the tone Sara had grown to dread, since it usually signaled some unpleasant topic. “I have spoken to your father on the matter of the two gentlemen who wish to call on you.”

  Sara felt the gentle pressure of Lucie’s foot on her own under the table and knew she had a staunch ally in whatever was to follow.

  “We—” Georgina began, then amended, “your father has given permission for Mr. Montrose to be received since the Faxton Pierce family are longtime friends and Mr. Montrose is their houseguest.” She paused, momentarily concentrating on handing the dessert plates to Trent, who hovered nearby, ready to serve them.

  Sara clenched her napkin tightly in her lap, holding her breath for Georgina’s next pronouncement. It seemed her stepmother was being deliberately slow.

  “But I’m afraid, “ Georgina continued, “that we must refuse to receive Mr. Richardson.”

  At this, Sara lost her usual caution and blurted out, “But why not?”

  Georgina looked startled. She drew herself up, regarding Sara coldly. “We consider Mr. Richardson unsuitable.”

  “Unsuitable? What can you mean by unsuitable? Theo is a perfect gentleman with beautiful manners and a charming personality! Why would you not receive him?”

  Georgina raised her eyebrows. “Are you questioning your father’s decision, Sara?”

  Sara flushed and darted a quick look at her father who had halted the progress of his spoon to his mouth to look at her, aghast.

  “It’s not that!” she protested. “It’s just that neither of you has met him. It’s simply not fair to pass judgment on someone you don’t even know!”

  “Your stepmother’s opinion is all that is necessary, Sara,” Mr. Leighton said gruffly.

  “But she—” Sara bit her lip, then turned to Georgina. “Have you met Theo then?” she asked accusingly.

  “It is not necessary for me to meet him, Sara. Frankly, I am surprised the Maitlands included him in Katherine’s wedding party. I—we—have reached this decision on well-substantiated grounds. It isn’t necessary to give you the reasons. But since it seems to have upset you so much, I can only remind you that I grew up in Beaufort, living many years in Charleston, and know that the Richardsons are not received in some of the best homes there. That is enough for me.”

  “But what has Theo done that is so terrible? I don’t understand!”

  “All right, Sara, if you insist!” Georgina lost her patience. “His family is declassé. His parents are … separated, if you must know. His father is a flagrant gambler, went through his own inheritance as well as his poor wife’s fortune. His reputation is well known in Charleston. The family lives in a ramshackle plantation house on Sullivan’s Island, never entertain, and are rarely invited anywhere. Anyone who associates with them socially would be tainted by these distasteful circumstances.”

  Sara’s reaction was immediate.

  “Why must Theo be blamed for what his father has done or is? I know him and he is every inch a gentleman—a fine, agreeable, mannerly person I would be proud to have call on me!” Sara defended hotly.

  At this, Mr. Leighton threw down his napkin. ‘That’s enough, Sara. The matter is closed.”

  Frustrated, Sara rushed on heedlessly. “Please, Papa, meet him and decide for yourself. I know you would agree that a person should be judged on his own merits. I can’t believe you would take this malicious gossip Georgina has repeated as fact—”

  Mr. Leighton’s fist came crashing down on the table, causing the crystal goblets to rattle, the silverware to shift. “Enough, Sara!” he roared. “I never heard such impertinence! No child of mine shall defy me. You’ll do as you’re told, miss, or I’ll know the reason why!”

  Lucie gave Sara a sharp little warning kick. When Sara glanced in her direction, she actually seemed to be cowering. Lucie hated scenes, feared her father’s displeasure. At that moment something hardened in Sara. She would not give in. She would fight—for her freedom, and for Lucie’s!

  Georgina sat frozen, glaring at her, and Sara felt wild resentment race through her. But she willed herself to calm. Pushing back her chair, Sara asked her father. “May I be excused?”

  “No, Miss Sara, you may not,” came his quick angry reply. “You will sit there until the rest of us are finished, if you please.”

  The painful silence lengthened. The only sound was the scraping of silver on porcelain, the muted footsteps of Trent moving around the table refilling the water glasses. At last Mr. Leighton rose from his chair.

  “You will apologize to your stepmother, Sara, and I hope there’s an end to your insupportable behavior.”

  Sara never knew how she had obeyed her father and murmured the commanded apology. Dizzy as she was with anger, she was determined not to risk further punishment. Continuing to argue might result in bringing Georgina’s retribution down upon her. She couldn’t risk that—not if it meant being deprived of the rest of the wedding activities still to come … and Theo’s presence.

  As she left the dining room, head held high, the quotation “Love laughs at locksmiths” flashed through Sara’s mind. Georgina has met her match, she thought.

  Sara would not be defeated. She would find a way to be with Theo, even if it meant that eventually they would have to elope!

  chapter

  5

  AT THE WEDDING rehearsal at the church, Sara had no opportunity to speak with Theo, and afterwards they were seated in different carriages on their way to the Maitland home for the rehearsal dinner.

  She was still stinging from the scene with her father and Georgina the day before. It had taken all her will power not to aggravate the situation further. Outwardly resigned, Sara was seething. Opposition always succeeded in making her more determined. She began to plot several extravagant schemes to outwit her stepmother’s arbitrary decision not to receive Theo. Although Sara railed against Georgina’s influence on her father, she knew she was helpless to sway him now.

  If anything, their position excited Sara’s recklessness, enhanced Theo’s desirability, increased her romantic fantasy. Star-crossed lovers they might be, but together they would find a way. Theo loved her. Hadn’t he said so in his letters? And she loved him. She dreamed of the drama of an elopement, the shock waves it would send through Savannah society. That would show Georgina!

  When the bridesmaids reached the Maitlands’ home, Sara found a chance to slip away. The bevy of girls went upstairs to freshen up. As soon as she could without drawing attention to herself, Sara went downstairs in search of Theo, leaving the others crowding in front of the mirrors to primp, powder, and fuss with hairdos.

  Defiantly she had devised a plan for meeting Theo secretly. Tomorrow, accompanied by Mammy June, she had the final fitting of her bridesmaid’s gown. Theo could meet her in one of Savannah’s secluded squares in the salon. There, unseen, unchaperoned, they could at last talk freely and privately. Oh, how she longed for that moment!

  Once downstairs, Sara paused. Hearing the sound of men’s voices and laughter coming from one of the twin parlors, she moved closer. Her surreptitious peek told her that the male members of the wedding party were enjoying a jovial libation before joining the ladies. But Theo was not among them. Where could he be?

  Checking the other parlor, she found the musicians arranging their instruments and music stands on a raised platform at one end of the room. The doors at the other end opened into the dining room, where the house servants were arranging a huge silver punchbowl and cups on a table covered with a lace tablecloth.

  “Miss Leighton!” drawled a deep voice from behind her. Startled, Sara whirled aroun
d and pitched forward, very nearly into the arms of Clayborn Montrose.

  “What luck!” he said, steadying her before reluctantly withdrawing his arm. His eyes moved over her with undisguised pleasure. “I had hoped I would have this privilege. And here it is. May I get you some punch?” he asked, unaware of her bitter disappointment that he was not Theo.

  All Sara could do was accept. Having placed herself in the awkward situation of being downstairs alone, the only thing to do was carry it off with as much grace as possible.

  Clayborn offered his arm and Sara took it, allowing herself to be led over to one of the gilded chairs set in conversational semicircles about the large room. She seated herself and Clay went to get their refreshment. He was back in a moment, brandishing two punch cups and a smug smile.

  ‘This punch is famous, I’m told by Fax, always served in Savannah on festive occasions,” Clayborn said as he handed her a cup. ‘The original recipe is a secret, but over the years the ingredients have become a matter of common knowledge, at least among some southern hosts,” he told her, taking a seat beside her. He lifted his cup in a toast, eyes twinkling, then lowered his voice conspiratorially, “As a matter of fact, I’m one of the privileged few who know what is in it!”

  Distracted as she was, Sara was schooled in the social etiquette of pretending an interest she did not feel. “And pray tell, what are those mysterious ingredients, Mr. Montrose?”

  Clayborn, smiling with satisfaction that he had caught her attention, said, “It seems the members of the Chatham Artillery, one of the oldest military organizations in existence before 1775, were preparing to entertain President James Monroe, on his way to Savannah for the gala launching of the S.S. Savannah on its historic Atlantic voyage. They wanted somthing very special to serve the chief executive of the United States. So this beverage was created.” Clay’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Fax warned me it’s very potent!”

  “Then I shall have to be careful not to let it go to my head, shan’t I?” Sara laughed.

  “Personally, I need nothing more than your company, Miss Leighton, to feel quite dizzy and disoriented.”

  Sara gave him a questioning look, surprised that the bantering tone was gone. He was really quite serious.

  Her expression must have revealed how much he had disconcerted her. As if anxious to explain, Clay rushed on, “I apologize for my frankness. I realize we are practically strangers. It is my misfortune, but not my fault, that I am unknown to you. I also understand that my behavior is completely against all accepted rules of protocol. But my justification is time. Or I should say lack of it. You see, Miss Leighton—Sara—may I call you Sara?—after the wedding I return immediately to Virginia to make preparations to leave for Europe. I will be out of the country for several months on my grand tour, a graduation present from my foster-mother, my Aunt Avril. If I don’t speak now, something may happen in the meantime. You might even forget we ever met—”

  Completely taken aback by this ardent declaration, Sara unfurled her little fan and began to flutter it briskly. She was accustomed to the light patter, the compliments and flattery, the pat phrases used in most social exchange. But this was something different altogether. She remained speechless as Clay continued earnestly.

  “I could not take my eyes off you in church this evening. You were so lovely with the candlelight on your face— more beautiful than any of the other bridesmaids, or even the bride herself.”

  “Mr. Montrose, I must protest—” Sara interrupted him. “I cannot allow you to run on so! You are making me extremely uncomfortable. I am shocked that you should have been so frivolously distracted during such a solemn occasion as the rehearsal. And in all places, one where religious services are conducted!”

  Of course, Sara was not as shocked as she pretended. She was, in fact, flattered that he thought her prettier than the serenely beautiful Katherine! Immediately her conscience pinched her for her duplicity.

  “Then I doubly apologize if I have offended you.” Clay seemed abject. “But I cannot deny my heart nor recant my true feelings.”

  To Sara’s immense relief there was suddenly a flurry of activity, the sound of voices as the rest of the company began flowing into the room.

  “If I felt I had reason to hope, I would come back to Savannah as soon as I returned from Europe.” He took her free hand and covered it with his. “Please, Sara, please give me that hope.”

  “Mr. Montrose!” she remonstrated, tugging her hand gently away. “You forget yourself! You were correct in the first place. We have never even been properly introduced, you have never met my parents, nor called at my home. It is only due to our both being in this wedding that we even met … mere chance—”

  “Chance? I would like to think it was a great deal more than that, Sara.”

  She could think of nothing more to say.

  Over Clay’s shoulder she saw Theo enter the room. She had to get to him before anything interfered. At once Sara got to her feet.

  “You must excuse me,” she murmured.

  “May I be your partner at supper?” Clay asked.

  She shook her head, her eyes following Theo as he stopped to speak to Katherine and Douglas Cameron.

  “I’m sorry, I promised—”

  “Then, may I have the first dance after?”

  Eager to be away, Sara agreed. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  She tried to make her way across the room toward Theo, but two bridesmaids halted her to admire her dress. Just at that moment, a pretty blonde joined them. Though Sara did not know her, she assumed she was one of many out-of-town guests come for the wedding. There was no way Sara could break away without appearing rude.

  With a simpering giggle, the blonde asked in a stage whisper, “Oh, do tell me, before he gets away. Who is that devastatingly handsome gentleman with the dark curly hair talking with Katherine?”

  Sara did not need to look. She knew the gentleman in question.

  “That’s Theo Richardson,” one of the other bridesmaids replied.

  “Oh, isn’t he adorable?” the blonde sighed.

  “Well, don’t get any ideas,” retorted her friend. “He’s spoken for.”

  Sara stiffened. How could anyone possibly have guessed about her romance with Theo?

  “What do you mean?” came the blonde’s plaintive voice.

  “Surely you knew. It was announced in the Charleston paper last week. He and Evangeline Archer are engaged.”

  chapter

  6

  SARA FELT shock jolt through her body, followed by a sickening chill. Numbed, she heard with growing disbelief the rest of the conversation between the other girls.

  “The Archers are old-family Charlestonians, you know.”

  “They have a shipbuilding firm.”

  “A gorgeous home on the Battery.”

  “And a plantation on the Island.”

  “Of course, Evangeline—” began one of them.

  “But she is real sweet—”

  “She was at the Academe last year.”

  “But who would ever have thought? I mean, Evangeline?”

  Suddenly Sara could listen no more. She felt hot, faint, and clenched her hands together, willing herself to control the mounting tide of pain threatening to engulf her. Fighting the urge to scream, she looked straight ahead and into Theo’s eyes. The impact of that glance struck her like a blow to her chest, and she gasped. How could he?

  They stared at each other, motionless. Everything seemed to recede—the voices, the laughter, the music softly playing in the background. Then Sara turned away.

  Blindly, she hurried toward the French windows opening onto the veranda. Once outside, she took a deep breath, drawing the cool night air into bursting lungs. Wanting only to escape, she began to run, the gravel stone path cutting into the thin soles of her satin slippers.

  Can it be true? But how? The letters Theo wrote … He said he loved me! The tormenting thoughts clutched at her brain, driving her on. Though it
had been weeks since she had heard from him, she knew he loved her. It had been in his eyes, in his voice just the other night, in his kiss. It couldn’t be true!

  Breathless, she stopped her frantic flight and stumbled over to a large oak tree. Leaning against it, she put out her hands, indifferent to the rough bark through the fragile lace of her mitts.

  The whisper of the evening breeze cooled her hot cheeks, but now the choking sobs began. Theo, Theo, how could you be so false? her breaking heart demanded. Only a few hours ago she had been sure he loved her, was as eager to see her as she had been to be with him. How could she have been so deluded? so wrong? Oh, the humiliation of it!

  And who was Evangeline Archer? They had said she was at the Academe last year. But so was Lucie. Surely Lucie would have known about the romance. And Lucie would not have kept such a relationship from her, would she?

  Sara drew a long, painful breath. She could hear music floating out through the long windows of the house. She must go back in. But how could she? How could she face anyone after this? How could she bear to see Theo now that she knew the truth?

  “Sara.”

  At the sound of that mellow, once-beloved voice with its distinctive Low Country accent, Sara froze, unable to move nor speak.

  “Sara.” She could tell he was directly behind her now, only a few feet away.

  He spoke her name a third time, tenderly, caressingly. Then she felt his hand on her arm.

  “Don’t!” She shook it off and moved away.

  “Sara, please. I’ve been waiting for this chance to be alone with you—”

  She twirled about, her taffeta skirts rustling in the quietness of the garden. “Oh, really! Have you now? Waiting for what, Theo? Enough time to muster the courage to tell me of your engagement? Well, it was time wasted. I already know.” Her voice was steely, hard, almost unrecognizable, even to herself.

  His face, illuminated by the moonlight, looked anguished. “Sara, I wanted to see you in person, tell you. I … I didn’t want to write you—”