Folly's Bride

by Jane Peart

  At Cameron Hall, after Sara had made the requisite visit to the nursery to admire Katherine’s pride and joy, her baby daughter, Garnet, the two ladies went downstairs and settled in the cozy parlor adjoining the more formal dining room. This room, with its curved rosewood furniture covered in deep rose velvet, reflected Katherine’s exquisite taste.

  “Well, Sara, we haven’t had a chance for a real visit since you got back from Savannah.” Kate poured tea into delicate cups and handed one to Sara. “I was so sorry to hear of your father’s death. Of course, under the circumstances, I’m sure you didn’t have a chance to see any of our old friends while you were there, did you?”

  “A few, Kate,” admitted Sara. “Mostly my father’s friends who attended the memorial service.” Sara hesitated. Should she mention having seen Theo? It was Katherine, of course, who had first introduced them at the Academy and he had gone to school with Doug, been in their wedding.

  Even as she debated with herself, Kate leaned toward Sara and asked confidentially, “Has Clay said anything to you about the letter Uncle Logan wrote to Doug from Jamaica?”

  “No. Why? Should he have?” For some reason, uneasiness stirred in the pit of Sara’s stomach. She had the unsettling impression that Kate was about to tell something that would be better left unsaid.

  “You know, of course, that Uncle Logan went to Jamaica to settle the affairs of a wealthy sugar planter there.” Sara nodded. “Well, it seems the planter community is quite small, and everyone knows everyone else, and everyone’s business, as well. Logan’s client, George Campion, knew the Richardson family very well. You do remember Theo Richardson, don’t you, Sara?” Kate cocked her head to one side and waited for Sara’s reply.

  Sara did not trust herself to speak. She merely nodded.

  “Well, Theo’s grandfather, Delman Richardson, was sent to Jamaica by his father to run the family’s sugar plantation there. But the rumor was he was sent, not because he was so very capable, but to get him out of the way after he was involved in some scandal … no one seems to know exactly what kind of scandal.” Kate paused and, hearing nothing from Sara, went on. “At first, this ‘black sheep’ son did quite well, it is said. But eventually the isolation from family, friends, all the familiar things, began to tell on him.”

  Sara found her tongue. “Do go on, Kate.”

  Kate dropped her voice lower. “He took to drinking and neglecting his responsibilities, let the overseer manage the slaves and run the plantation. Soon everything began to fall apart. The overseer was cruel, so during the slave rebellion, they murdered him!”

  “Theo’s grandfather?” gasped Sara.

  “No, the overseer. But Logan did learn that most of the white plantation owners, at least those who were not killed during the bloody uprising, fled for their lives, taking a few loyal slaves with them when they left the island.” She sat back, watching Sara’s reaction.

  “But, I don’t understand—” Sara’s puzzled frown marred the delicate perfection of her brow. “Theo was born over there, wasn’t he? He told me he had lived there until his father came to Charleston when he was nine or ten.”

  “That’s true, Sara. The shocking thing Logan uncovered in his investigation is that the Richardson family escaped the vengeance and bloodshed of the other planters. And the reason was—” Here Kate halted, dropping her voice to a near whisper—“that Delman Richardson, Theo’s grandfather, was married to a Jamaican woman!”

  When Sara did not react immediately, Kate explained, “Don’t you see, Sara? Theo has Jamaican blood!”

  Sara’s hand on her teacup trembled so violently that she had to put it down.

  “Of course, no one in Charleston knew or even dreamed such a thing,” Kate continued. “Logan thinks Theo’s father concealed it when they first came here. There was no trace of his background in his looks. He was quite light-skinned and very handsome, but Logan suspects that his wife, Theo’s mother, learned the truth and left him because of it. Anyway, they separated. But not before they had had children—Theo and his two sisters. Incidentally, his sisters never married, so I suppose they were told. Of course, Theo and Evangeline have no children. Poor thing, her childhood injuries made it impossible for her to have any,” Kate finished. “So what do you think of that, Sara?” she demanded and, in almost the same breath, added, “More tea?”

  Sara felt numb all over. Even in her dazed state, so many things fell into place. She got to her feet.

  “No thank you, Kate. I really must be going.”

  “Oh, must you? You’ve only been here such a little while,” protested Kate, obviously disappointed. “I wanted to show you my new quilting pattern—”

  “Another time, Kate.” Already, Sara was reaching for her cape, putting on her bonnet. “I really must leave.”

  Sara could barely recall exchanging departing pleasantries and promises to come again soon. The next thing she knew, she was in her carriage on her way back to Montclair, her mind in a whirl.

  Now so much was clear. She suspected that Theo had found out the truth about his heritage after his father’s death. The discovery had likely stunned him, and that’s why he had broken off with her. To protect her! When Mr. Archer offered to settle his father’s debts for the sake of the long friendship with his mother, Theo had accepted. It was all he could do to ensure the security of his mother and sisters. Then, because Evangeline was the Archers’ only child, and Mr. Archer wanted a son to carry on the firm, Theo had agreed to marry Evangeline, knowing it was safe to do so since she could never bear children.

  Theo had loved her, Sara, enough to sacrifice his own happiness!

  She remembered his sorrowful words when she had accused him of being cruel. “Not cruel, kind, Sara. If we had run away and married, you might have have come to hate me.”

  The enormity of what she had learned today stunned Sara. When she arrived back at Montclair, she went straight to her room and lay down on her bed for the rest of the afternoon.

  When she finally rose to bathe and dress for dinner, she walked over to the window and looked out. The sky, just before sunset, was blue and pink and gold, like fire opals. Soon the sun would disappear over the horizon, swallowing it in the last vestige of twilight.

  How brave and unselfish Theo had been. He had given up everything so she could have all this. Her life seemed infinitely sweet to her as she gazed out at the vast sweep of lawn rolling down to the river. He had freed her for this. Silently Sara prayed for Theo, asking a gracious blessing on a man she had once loved with passionate despair, and now appreciated for his nobility of character.

  chapter

  18

  AS SOON AS Sara was sure she was going to have another child, she made arrangements to go to the Hydropathy Clinic in the Virginia mountains for her confinement and delivery.

  The theory of hydropathy was in its infancy but Sara, always adventurous, wanted to take advantage of this revolutionary new health movement. As soon as she read about it, hailed as particularly beneficial to women, Sara was determined to avail herself of its benefits.

  Based on the belief that water was the natural sustainer of life, hydropathy advocates recommended a strict regime: bathing in the natural hot springs, drinking mineral water, massage, exercise, and a vegetarian diet.

  Enthusiasts claimed miraculous cures for many illnesses believed at the time to be incurable. Testimonies of all sorts of incredible recoveries were printed in the brochures sent out by the clinic to encourage women to come and see for themselves.

  Sara made reservations at the most fashionable, most expensive, and best-known of the hydropathy “spas.” Accompanied by Lizzie, she left Montclair in April, with Clay’s somewhat reluctant blessing, three months before the expected arrival of their third child.

  The mountains surrounding the resort were pink and white with blossoming dogwood against the dark green of pines, and the air was fresh and invigorating. Two large main buildings housed the dining room and kitchen, a large parlor fo
r socializing, and a library. There was also a lounge with several writing desks, presumably for guests to use for writing to family and friends, extolling the marvels of restoration to good health they had experienced, and urging those still unconvinced to come “test the waters.”

  These impressive buildings faced a beautifully landscaped court with flower beds and a fountain. Behind these were the bathhouses. Paths spreading out from this center led to small, private cottages scattered among the cedar and pine trees.

  Sara had reserved one of the cottages. Attended by Lizzie, she settled down to await the birth in comfort, and healthful, innovative care. This clinic catered exclusively to women, so Sara was free to walk the grounds for her twice-daily recommended exercise, stroll to the baths, and take dinner in the dining hall in the congenial company of other “patients,” without self-consciousness as her date drew nearer.

  “Just think, Lizzie, if I were at home, I would be a prisoner!” Sara declared to her maid. “Propriety would not allow me to go anywhere for months! I would be stifled for fresh air and sunshine.”

  Upon her arrival, after being shown to her cottage by one of the uniformed attendants, Sara was given a written outline of her daily schedule:

  TO OUR GUESTS, You have made the intelligent decision to take your health care seriously, and we are here to support you in that choice. We will do everything to give you the encouragement, inspiration, and information you need to derive the most benefits from your stay here.

  To reap the most restorative advantage from your time with us we suggest the following:

  1. The hours for bathing are from 5 a.m. to 7 a.m. in the morning. An attendant will call for you. Please be punctual. No bath is to be taken in less than two hours after a meal, nor immediately after violent exercise. A rest of at least ten minutes is suggested after a walk.

  2. After each bath, a glass of mineral water is to be partaken, the amount to be designated by the physician in charge of your individual treatment. Waste no time in dressing after the bath. A walk in the fresh air should follow immediately.

  3. Appointments will be made for you with your physician twice a week so that you may discuss any change, symptoms, or circumstances or any other matter pertaining to your condition.

  4. Hours for meals should be regularly observed, and nothing eaten between meals. In regard to diet, as in all matters, the opinion of your doctors should be strictly followed. Coffee, tea, spices, and warm or new bread are forbidden. The same in regard to tobacco or other stimulants.

  5. Ten o’clock is the recommended retirement time. Read, write as little as possible, and never after supper.

  Your full restoration to good health, and the assurance of receiving the total benefits from your stay, depend on you. Only those who make their health the main object of their visit to this clinic can expect the promised results.”

  This Spartan regime might have been daunting to fun-loving, luxury-prone Sara if it had not been her conviction that this was the way to an easier, less debilitating birth experience. In spite of its rigidity, Sara found it so much less restrictive than being under old Dr. Erling’s outdated methods that she was willing to adhere to this schedule without complaint.

  Besides, there were plenty of pleasurable diversions. In the evening there was entertainment for the clinic patrons, including musicales, games of charades, whist, or snap. With the strictly enforced bedtime hours everyone kept, it was a short evening anyway. With all putting in a full day of baths and exercise in the clear mountain air, most were ready for a deep, peaceful night’s sleep.

  Sara had never spent much time alone before coming to the clinic. Now, for the first time, she found herself thinking about her life, and wondering what the future held. On the long, solitary walks prescribed by her doctor, Sara found her thoughts turning increasingly to Clay and the children.

  She realized how wrong she had been to let thoughts of Theo Richardson invade her marriage. How much they had undermined a wholehearted devotion to her husband. Regret was pointless and unhealthy, so Sara did not linger long nor dwell upon her foolish mistakes.

  Although not given much to prayer, except in moments of sudden panic or desperation of one kind or another, Sara now felt an overwhelming thankfulness for her many blessings.

  As Sara felt the fresh mountain air on her cheeks and breathed it into her young, healthy lungs, she felt an enormous gratitude to her Creator for so many undeserved blessings. Sara determined that after the baby came and she was back at Montclair, she would be different. She would be kinder, more thoughtful to Clay, express her love more fully. She would spend more time with the children, especially Bryce. Because Becca had taken over so much of his care, Sara’s attention had been directed mostly to Malcolm. But she realized she loved both her little sons dearly, even if differently. She was overwhelmed with feeling for the new baby in a way she had not been in either of her other pregnancies.

  Yes, when she went home she would change, think more about the feelings of others, not so much of herself.

  In June 1842, after a short and surprisingly easy labor, Sara delivered a rosy-cheeked, eight-pound baby boy. Clay arrived a few days later and found his wife already up and about, glowing with health and happiness. They agreed to name him Leonard Leighton, and in two weeks returned to Montclair to present their third son to his brothers.

  chapter

  19

  THE NEW, peacock-blue velvet riding habit fit to perfection. Buttoning on the snug jacket, Sara surveyed herself in the full-length mirror. Her waist was back to its pre-baby Leighton twenty-two inches, she noted with satisfaction. But not without effort!

  She tipped the velour top hat forward coquettishly, gave a final pat to the latticed blue snood that held her shiny, dark hair up from her slender neck, and touched Clay’s latest gift, the new diamond stickpin fastened on the cream satin stock at her throat. Drawing on her dove-gray suede gloves, she picked up her riding crop and started out of the bedroom.

  She stopped in the nursery to gaze lovingly at the rosy face of little Leonard Leighton, called “Lee,” asleep in his cradle, then Sara skimmed down the winding staircase and out the front door.

  Clay was standing at the head of her sleek new Arabian who pawed at the ground impatiently with his foot. Malcolm, sitting on the top step, sprang up immediately as his adored mother came out onto the porch.

  Both man and boy turned worshipful eyes on the slim, elegant figure.

  “You look beautiful, Mama!” Malcolm said.

  Sara gave her lilting laugh, and taking his face in both hands, kissed him on both cheeks, saying, “Ah, my sweet little boy, you’ll make me vain!” Then Sara ran down the steps.

  “Oh, Clay, he is wonderful!” she said, patting the arched neck of the handsome animal. “Thank you, my darling, for this magnificent gift.” She stroked the sleek line of the horse’s shoulder. “Thank you for … everything!” she said, with a graceful gesture that encompassed the house, the boy, the horse. Then she placed her hand on Clay’s arm lightly, smiling at him.

  “Ready? Then up you go,” he said, assisting her into the saddle, “Have a good ride!”

  Sara lifted the reins. “I think this is the happiest day of my life!”

  She threw a kiss to Malcolm, and with a flick of her crop, turned the horse. Giving a final, gay wave of one hand, she cantered down the drive. At the bend as the horse broke into a gallop heading, toward the low stone fence at the end of the meadow, Sara thought to herself, I am the happiest woman in the world.

  Family Tree

  In Scotland

  Brothers GAVIN and ROWAN MONTROSE, descendants of the chieftan of the Clan Graham, came to Virginia to build on an original King’s Grant of two thousand acres along the James River. They began to clear, plant, and build upon it.

  In 1722, GAVIN’S son, KENNETH MONTROSE, brought his bride, CLAIR FRASER, from Scotland, and they settled in Williamsburg while their plantation house—“Montclair”—was being planned and built. Th
ey had three children: sons KENNETH and DUNCAN, and daughter JANET.

  In England

  The Barnwell Family.

  GEORGE BARNWELL first married WINIFRED AINSELY, and they had two sons: GEORGE and WILLIAM. BARNWELL later married a widow, ALICE CARY, who had a daughter, ELEANORA.

  ELEANORA married NORBERT MARSH (widower with son, SIMON), and they had a daughter, NORAMARY.

  In Virginia

  Since the oldest son inherits, GEORGE BARNWELL’s younger son, WILLIAM, came to Virginia, settled in Williamsburg, and started a shipping and importing business.

  WILLIAM married ELIZABETH DEAN, and they had four daughters: WINNIE, LAURA, KATE, and SALLY. WILLIAM and ELIZABETH adopted NORAMARY when she was sent to Virginia at twelve years of age.

  Kenneth Montrose married Clair Fraser. They had three children: Kenneth, Janet, and Duncan.

  DUNCAN married NORAMARY MARSH, and they had three children: CAMERON, ROWAN, and ALAN.

  CAMERON MONTROSE married LORABETH WHITAKER, and they had one son, GRAHAM. Later CAMERON married ARDEN SHERWOOD, and they remained childless.

  After the death of his first wife, LUELLE Hayes, GRAHAM MONTROSE married AVRIL DUMONT. Although the had no children of their own, they adopted his nephew, CLAYBORN MONTROSE.

  The Saga Continues!

  Be sure to read all of the “Brides of Montclair” books, available from your local bookstore:

  Valiant Bride

  To prevent social embarrassment after their daughter’s elopement, a wealthy Virginia couple forces their ward, Noramary Marsh, to marry Duncan Montrose. Already in love with another, Noramary anguishes over submitting to an arranged marriage.

  Ransomed Bride

  After fleeing an arranged marriage in England, Lorabeth Whitaker met Cameron Montrose, a Virginia planter. His impending marriage to someone else is already taken for granted. A story of love, conscience, and conflict.