by Jane Peart
I wonder if Avril would ever consider marrying again. Clay tells me her marriage was a storybook romance, and she may not want to think of replacing her first true love. But she is still a young woman and most attractive. Her hair is still glorious, a deep auburn, and she has a flawless complexion, and eyes as guileless as a child’s. I feel I will become quite fond of her as I get to know her better.
I think (scratched out) I intend (scratched out)—I will be happy here. Everything has been done for my happiness, so I would be wretchedly ungrateful if I were not happy.
Clay is a kind and wonderful husband, and I shall do my best to be a good wife to him. Only you, dear sister, know there was another I had hoped to marry. But I have tried to put all that behind me and look forward to the future here in Virginia. I have moved into a new life and I plan to live it, enjoy it, and make the most of it. And I am now married to a man who loves me to distraction. Surely I am a most fortunate woman.
Please come soon, Lucie. Clay tells me Mayfield is especially lovely in the spring and, equally appealing, there is an abundant supply of very eligible bachelors among the society here.
Or is there a special someone keeping you in Savannah? If so, then you really must come so I can give you all my newfound “matronly” advice before you do anything rash, like become engaged. So please write back right away and tell me you are coming. Better still, tell me when you will arrive and we’ll meet you in Williamsburg!
Ever your loving sister,
Sara Leighton Montrose
Sara blotted her signature, then folded the pages. She took her stamp from one of the pigeonholes in the desk, lighted the taper to melt the wax, letting it drip onto the letter, then pressed the Montrose crest into the molten wax.
For a moment her hand hovered in front of a small door in the center of the desk. Then she withdrew it and rose, walking quickly to the hall to place her letter to her sister on the silver tray to be taken down to the river, where the mail packet boat would come the next morning.
The inlaid desk was not the only thing Sara had brought with her from Savannah. Inside its secret compartment were all the letters Theo had written her, which she could not bear to destroy. Not always, but this time, did Sara successfully resist the temptation to reread them.
* * *
To Sara’s delight, within weeks, Lucie wrote that she had their father’s permission to come to Virginia in the spring.
The prospect of Lucie’s imminent visit filled Sara with joyful anticipation. Her spirits soared, diminishing the loneliness and strange depression that often plagued her at Montclair, despite the cheerful tone of her letter.
It was an elusive feeling Sara could not explain. There was no reason for it she could identify, for every whim was fulfilled by her adoring husband. It seemed to be Clay’s greatest desire to indulge her every wish and to try to anticipate anything that might bring her pleasure.
The first few months after their return, the two did everything together. Clay made no secret of the fact that he enjoyed Sara’s conpany above all others, and preferred having her with him to any other diversion. They rode horseback daily, ate at any hour Sara felt hungry. Frequently, they sent into Williamsburg where Sara could shop to her heart’s content, see a play, or attend a party. She was so vivacious, so appreciative of all she was seeing and hearing that it never occurred to Clay that his wife was not as happy as she pretended to be.
Nor would Clay have dreamed that beneath the surface, Sara was vaguely aware of a deep yearning for something more than the perfection of the life she was leading. With the word that Lucie was really coming, Sara dismissed her occasional melancholy as a passing mood.
The sisters had so much to say to each other, so much news to exchange, that they spent the first hours talking. Inevitably, on the third day of Lucie’s visit, the subject about which Sara could no longer contain her curiosity, came up.
“Tell me, Lucie,” Sara began idly, “do you ever hear anything about Theo Richardson?”
Lucie looked uncomfortable.
“Come now, Lucie! I can see you do know something. What is it?”
“Why do you want to hear about him now, Sara? He’s part of the past. You have all this now—” She made a sweeping gesture with her hands—“a beautiful home, a handsome husband who plainly adores you—why hear something that will only make you miserable?”
“Why should it make me miserable?” Sara demanded. Lucie’s reticence was making her even more curious. “I just want to hear what you know. It has nothing to do with Clay or Montclair or me.”
Lucie sighed. “Oh, all right, Sara. But it may all be gossip, remember.”
“For heaven’s sake, Lucie. Do go on!”
“Well, he and Evangeline come to Savannah often now. Theo is working for the Archer Shipbuilding Company as a designer, and he consults with some of the Savannah builders, I suppose. Anyway, they stay with friends of her family.” Lucie halted as if trying to decide whether to continue.
“And? What else, Lucie?” Sara urged.
“Nothing really. I mean, it’s just an impression—”
“What kind of impression? Lucie, you’re maddening!”
“I’ve only seen them once, at a party at the Pierces’ and—” She paused, then rushed on. “He looked … well … sad. He has such tragic eyes,” she finished dramatically.
Sara’s heart wrenched. She remembered those eyes. They had not seemed tragic then. They had had a soft radiance, gentle and thoughtful, shining with love as they gazed into her own. Her throat tightened painfully.
“Is that all? What about Evangeline? Does she also look tragic?” There was a twist of irony in the question.
“No, not exactly. More … pensive, I’d say. Actually, the two of them weren’t even together that night. She can’t dance, of course, so she was sitting on the side, visiting with some of the older ladies.”
“And Theo? What of Theo?”
Lucie sighed again. “I’m sorry to say he frequented the punch bowl the entire evening.”
“He didn’t get … no! You don’t mean—” Sara gasped.
“Oh, no. Theo is ever the gentleman. It’s just that he didn’t dance, he didn’t socialize, and he didn’t even attend his wife.” Lucie’s voice faded away.
Sara gave Lucie a hard look. She knew her sister. Lucie wasn’t telling everything. “And what else, Lucie? There’s something more, isn’t there?”
“All right, Sara, if you must know. This spring the Archer Company launched a new ship with great fanfare. The mayor, members of the city council, all sorts of prominent Charlestonians were present. There was to be a huge reception afterwards—”
“But what has that to do with—?”
“Wait, Sara, I’m coming to that. It was a beautiful ship with a figurehead that Theo himself had designed and carved. Mr. Archer had planned for Evangeline to christen the ship. And, as it was unveiled … well—” Lucie seemed unable to continue.
“For pity’s sake, don’t keep me panting with suspense, Lucie. What happened?”
“Nothing happened, Sara. It was just that the face on the figurehead … that is, it looked familiar … at least, everyone who was there who knows you, said—”
“Said what?” Sara felt as if her heart would stop beating.
“Said it looked like you, Sara!”
Sara stared, speechless, at her sister.
“Worse still, they named the ship The Savannah Belle.” Lucie watched Sara carefully before rushing on. “Of course, the Archers have no idea unless some gossip decides to enlighten them. Poor Evangeline! But then she wasn’t at the Academe when you were there, so she would not know that the figurehead bears a resemblance to any living person. To tell the truth, I suspect even Theo doesn’t realize what he’s done. I think he simply carved the figure from memory, your image so printed in his mind that he just drew it unconsciously.”
Sara felt herself grow faint. Although her face revealed nothing, her heart spoke volumes. T
heo had no more forgotten her than she had forgotten him! Each was indelibly etched in the other’s being.
“Oh, Sara, I didn’t want to tell you, but you insisted!” Lucie was pleading now. “I had so hoped you and Theo could forget each other and be happy with your new lives. Sara, you certainly have everything you need to make you happy here.”
“I know, Lucie. And if Theo is unhappy, he has only himself to blame. He had the soul of an artist and he sold it for security.” Sara felt her heart harden, grow cold within her.
“Don’t be sad, Sara. Oh, I wish you hadn’t made me tell you!” Lucie moaned.
“It’s all right, Lucie. I would possibly have heard it anyway from someone. Katherine Cameron has visitors from Charleston. They’ve probably brought the latest gossip with them.”
Outwardly calm, Sara quickly changed the subject. For the remainder of Lucie’s visit they did not speak of Theo Richardson again.
Sara was desolate when her sister left. Since neither was certain how long it would be before they saw each other, their parting was tearful. Both knew, but did not verbalize, the fact that Sara did not feel welcome to come to Savannah without a specific invitation from their stepmother.
Clay escorted Lucie to Williamsburg, putting her on the stage to Norfolk to return to Savannah by ship. As soon as the carriage had disappeared around the bend of the drive, Sara had her horse saddled and rode deep into the woods.
She galloped past Eden Cottage, empty since Avril was visiting friends in North Carolina, and up the ridge to the plateau overlooking the river. There she dismounted, tethered Cheval to a nearby tree, and walked to the edge, gazing down at the silvery ribbon of water glistening below.
Sara was bereft. Although Lucie had enjoyed her visit, Sara knew her sister was anxious to return to Savannah and to the young man with whom she was now in love. Loneliness enveloped Sara in an immense cloud of sadness, and she began to sob. Her tears were not only for the loss of a beloved sister, but for all the other losses of her life. Most of her tears, however, were for the love she had never truly relinquished.
“Wrong! Wrong! I know it’s wrong to feel this way,” she cried brokenly. Guilt and the conviction of disloyalty to Clay only intensified her grief.
Gradually her sobs lessened. Sara wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket and turned to remount her horse. She stood at his head, rubbing the velvety nose, patting the arched neck. Worn out from emotion, she leaned against him for consolation.
The woods were silent except for the sound of birdsong high in the branches above her, and below, rushing water over rocks in the river.
What was one person’s sadness in the whole scheme of things? What did it matter that her own heart was broken when everything about her went on as before, with no thought of her pain?
Was it true that “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all"? Were poets really wiser than ordinary folk, or only facile with words? Did heartbreak serve any purpose?
It must have some value, Sara thought desperately. Why else would one suffer so much if not for some reason? Into her mind, unbidden, came another quotation: “Everything works together for good to those who love the Lord and are called to His purpose.”
Where had she heard those words? And why was she remembering them now? Whatever had been the reason for loving Theo and losing him, she knew she must make herself put him out of her mind. Leave it behind forever. She must try to love Clay as he deserved to be loved. She was determined to do that.
People always said she was stubborn. But Sara had denied it, saying instead, “Not stubborn. Strong.”
Well, now she would prove it. Whatever it took, she would get over this destructive obsession with Theo, what might have been.
Determinedly, Sara remounted, turned Cheval around, and rode out of the shadowy woods into the sunlight and on toward Montclair.
Montclair
1835
chapter
10
FROST ETCHED the windowpanes in the master suite at Montclair. Outside, the snow that had fallen a few days before remained in frozen patches on the winter brown grass. Although it was not yet evening, the day had darkened early and it had been necessary to light candles throughout the house.
Sara sat at her dressing table, having Lizzie dress her hair in preparation for the traditional New Year’s Day open house at Cameron Hall.
“No, Lizzie, don’t brush it so high. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.” She took the brush out of the girl’s hand. “I like some curls around my face. It’s softer that way, not so severe.”
Lizzie, a slip of a girl with light brown skin and observant eyes, watched her mistress deftly bring a few tendrils of dark hair fetchingly over her temples and ears.
“See? That’s the effect I want,” Sara explained, handing Lizzie the brush. She knew she must curb her natural impatience with the young maid, try to remember she was still young and inexperienced. But Lizzie was also bright and clever with her hands, and Sara was more than pleased with her progress.
Quickly Lizzie made the finishing touches on the elaborate coiffure, carefully inserting a high-backed marcasite-studded comb, then stepped back to survey her handiwork.
Pleased with herself, Lizzie smiled. “You look mahty fine, Miss Sara.”
“The word is beautiful,” came Clay’s enthusiastic comment as he entered from his dressing room.
“But then, you’re so terribly prejudiced! You are ever the gallant gentleman, Clay Montrose, so I never know whether to believe your compliments or not!” Sara said mockingly as he strode into the room and crossed to cup her shoulders in his hands. “It’s not you I’m trying to impress, if you must know. I must look grand for all the ladies of Mayfield County who will be at Katherine and Doug’s party. And I dare say they are much more critical than you!”
“No one will hold a candle to you, my darling,” Clay replied, leaning down to place his cheek against hers. His gaze, reflected in her gilt-framed mirror, was tender.
“Is it time to go?” Sara asked, shifting slightly to look up at him.
“Not quite. I have something I want you to wear tonight.”
“What do you mean? I selected this gown with your preference for blue in mind.”
“You’re devastating in blue, dearest. No, this is something that will only furnish the icing on the cake.” And, from the pocket of his swallow-tailed coat, Clay brought out a velvet jewel case and pressed the spring. Sara’s eyes widened in amazement at the jewels inside. A king’s ransom, she thought, reaching over to touch the exquisite necklace and matching pendant earrings. The rubies flamed with dazzling blazes of fire—the diamonds were circlets of tiny glittering stars.
“Clay, they’re magnificent!” breathed Sara.
“Aren’t they? I didn’t even know about them until the letter from Aunt Avril. She had forgotten all about them. That’s not surprising, knowing how unworldly she is.” He smiled affectionately at this insight. “She herself never wore the jewels, so they have been in the wall safe in the plantation office all this time. Now she—and I, of course—want you to wear the Montrose bridal set. Here, let me put the necklace on for you.”
He fastened it around Sara’s slender neck. The clasp felt heavy and cold against her skin. Regarding her image in the glass, Sara tentatively fingered the dazzling jewels.
“I have never seen anything so beautiful!” she said, and her hands shook a little as she slipped the matching earrings into the lobes of her ears.
“They were made for you, Sara!” Clay declared triumphandy. “You look like a queen.”
Lizzie stepped from the shadows to bring Sara her midnight-blue velvet evening cape, and handed it to Clay, who placed it gently around Sara’s shoulders. Sara took the small ermine muff and white kid gloves Lizzie handed her. Then, with a final glance in the mirror, said, “Now I’m ready.”
As Sara, on his proud arm, swept into the drawing room at Cameron Hall, other eyes confirmed Clay’s quiet co
nviction. There was no question that the new Mrs. Montrose was stunning.
In spite of the bad weather that had plagued the area since Christmas, Cameron Hall was filled with guests come together to celebrate the New Year. Many who had traveled a great distance from the widely spaced plantation homes along the James River, were houseguests.
Virginians were as well known for their partying at every opportunity as Cameron Hall was famous for its hospitality. It would never have occurred to either the guests or their host to allow the weather to delay a tradition they had looked forward to all year.
The house was still festively decorated for Christmas, with garlands of fragrant greens festooning walls and windows. Bright red bayberry candles shone from the sparkling crystal chandeliers, enhancing the glorious colors of the ladies’ gowns as they spun with their partners in the old country dances. It was a happy mingling of good conversation, music, dancing, and merriment combined with fine wine and well prepared food.
Watching Katherine move graciously among her guests, Sara could not prevent a small twinge of envy at her friend’s ease and evident popularity. Just as Katherine Maitland had been one of the most popular girls in school, Mrs. Douglas Cameron had won an assured position in the close-knit Mayfield society, even though she was as much an “outsider” as Sara.
Sara had never felt the need for close girlfriends. Lucie had always been her best friend. But now, far from Savannah and sister, Sara fervently wished that she and Katherine might become close.
Katherine possessed other qualities that Sara admired and secretly envied. For all her radiant beauty, Katherine was genuinely kind, generous, outgoing. At school everyone had wanted to be Katherine Maitland’s friend.
Doug Cameron obviously doted on his wife. During the long evening, he seemed never to be more than a step away from her. Though Sara knew Clay loved her just as ardently, he was more reserved in public, keeping his expressions of affection for their private moments. Still, for some reason, seeing the Camerons so in love and not afraid to show it, annoyed Sara.
