by Amy Harmon
When she danced with Nathaniel again, he glowed from physical exertion and the occasion of dancing with numerous girls.
“I’ve met so many delightful women here,” he sputtered. “All of them have been patient with my questions.”
Eliza smiled. “I’m happy for you. I’m sure you’ll discover that I pale in comparison to the women of London.”
He looked at her fondly. “You’ll always shine in my eyes, Eliza, no matter what happens.”
Glancing away, Eliza felt a lump form in her throat. Nathaniel drew her close. He began to hum softly in her ear, but Eliza remained stiff in his arms.
“Another thing that has changed about me,” he whispered, sending shivers down her neck, “is that I can show my affection for the woman of my choosing.”
The music came to an end, and before another waltz number started up, Eliza disengaged. But Nathaniel held her fast and continued to hum. “If you ever do change your mind,” he said. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Nathaniel, you said we were friends,” Eliza said.
“Friendship is a wonderful basis to build a marriage on.”
The spell had been broken, and Eliza pulled away. “Excuse me. I must find the powder room.”
Nathaniel released her, reluctance in his eyes. “I’ll be here when you return.”
She turned and moved through the crowd. She knew her cheeks were flaming, but she didn’t care who noticed. Once inside the powder room, she found an empty chair and sank into it. She squeezed her eyes shut. Coming had been a mistake. Nathaniel would never change.
After several minutes, she felt composed enough to reenter the ball. She’d find Gina and tell her she had to leave, and to pass the message to Nathaniel so he couldn’t stop her from leaving.
Standing on the outskirts of the dance floor, she scanned the faces. No one looked familiar—yet everyone looked familiar. Amid the swirling skirts, she couldn’t find Gina.
Eliza sighed, gazing at the churning mass of colors before her. One separated from the rest, and Eliza stared in disbelief at the man coming toward her.
It was him. Blood rushed to her head. She reached out and steadied herself on a marble column. Jon had seen her—the man who had haunted her dreams for months.
She glanced around, trying to spot Gina, who was nowhere in sight. Gazing forward again, she looked for him, but he’d disappeared also—maybe it hadn’t been him after all.
“Eliza?”
He stood next to her, those same dark eyes that she’d seen in her dreams a thousand times, absorbing her features. His hair was blacker than she remembered, his shoulders broad under a well-cut suit. But it was his countenance that seemed the most changed. He was a man with hope in his eyes.
“Hello, Jon,” she managed to say.
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
“I think I have.”Her voice sounded tinny to her ears, as if someone else spoke the hollow words.
Jon’s eyes clouded. “You mean my mother?”
Shaking her head, Eliza took a step backward. He must be on his honeymoon—but so soon? Maybe they moved up their wedding date. “Are you here with your wife?”
A look of amusement crossed his face. “I’m not married.”
Not married? Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend. “But I thought…” Her face flushed. “Your fiancée then, of course.”
Jon took a step closer. “If you can believe it, Apryl left me for Thomas Beesley.”
Eliza covered her mouth. She didn’t know whether to laugh or offer sympathy. Thomas and Apryl? Of all the odd things to happen . . .
Jon seemed to read her thoughts. “I’ve no hard feelings anymore. It’s rather amusing when you think about it.”
Not married. Eliza tried to organize her thoughts. “Quite amusing.” His eyes stayed on her, quite unnerving her in fact. “What brings you to England?”
“I came to settle my late father’s estate in Norwich. I’m in London with his son-in-law, a Cambridge graduate.”
She nodded, hardly daring to believe that Jon was standing before her.
“I’ve a confession to make,” he said.
The music around them grew dim, and the people faded into the background. Eliza looked at him, her heart pounding, trying to remember what he’d said.
“The morning after I received the letter from you about my mother,” Jon said, “I hurried to your house and… finding you gone, I decided to try to catch you at the ship harbor. But I wasn’t allowed on board.”
Eliza stared at him. So it was him.
“And,” he paused, “I need to explain that I’m not Thomas Beesley’s lawyer, nor have I ever represented him.” He tilted his head, capturing her gaze. “I want you to know that when I return to New York, I’ll be in a position to help your father if he needs it.”
Thomas Beesley lied. All of this time, she’d believed him. Of course Thomas had lied—she knew his character better than anyone. What a fool she’d been.
“You never represented Thomas Beesley?” Eliza asked.
“No. I have a very little opinion of the man, and even less so now, if that’s possible,” Jon said.
She opened her mouth to inquire further, but Jon cocked his head to one side and said, “Now tell me what you are doing in London.”
“I’m…” She hesitated and glanced away, hoping Nathaniel was nowhere in sight. “Mr. Graydon has business in London for several days.”
Just then, Nathaniel appeared. “Hello, Mr. Porter,” he said, his greeting sounding more like a question.
The warmth faded from Eliza’s face, but she managed to keep a pleasant expression. She didn’t know what Jon would think of her being at the dance with Nathaniel.
“All the way from Maybrook? What a coincidence,” Nathaniel said.
Jon looked from him to Eliza, curiosity in his eyes. “Quite.”
“What brings you here, sir?” Nathaniel asked.
“I’m here with a relative who happens to be an alumnus,” Jon explained.“But even more surprising is seeing you here, Mr. Prann… at a dance.”
Nathaniel gave a curt nod. “I’m attending Cambridge.”
Jon remained silent, waiting for his question to be answered.
“And I’ve had a change of conviction,” Nathaniel said with a smile. “When I return to home, I will found my own sect based on the Puritan laws I was brought up on, but it will have a more modern understanding and flexibility.”
“As in an understanding of the art of dance?” Jon asked.
A flush crept onto Nathaniel’s face. “Among other things,” he said stiffly.
Jon nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, and I wish both of you all the best.”
Eliza touched Jon’s arm. “You’ll be in England long?”
“I depart tomorrow, as a matter of fact.” He glanced at Nathaniel, then Eliza. “Good luck with your plans.” Jon spun on his heels and walked away.
Nathaniel took Eliza’s hand. “What a queer fellow. So moody—”
“Excuse me for a moment,” Eliza said, tugging her hand away.
She turned away and zigzagged across the room, hoping that Nathaniel wouldn’t see that she was following Jon. As he reached the entrance of the hall, Eliza caught up with him.
“Jon,” she said.
He turned, puzzlement crossing his face when he saw her.
“Please wait.” She covered the last few steps, glancing furtively behind her.
“We can talk outside, if you don’t want him to see us,” Jon said.
Eliza hesitated for a moment then followed him. The sky was clear, with a bright moon, but the air chilly. She wrapped her arms about her with a shiver. “I wanted to explain.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Jon said. “Would you like my jacket?”
“I’m fine.” Eliza lowered her gaze, searching for her next words.
“I think it’s wonderful that you and Nathaniel are together. His regard for you has b
een obvious all along.” Jon spoke the generous words, but his voice was empty. “He’s a good man, in addition to the fact that he’s changed his Puritan ways for you—a true statement of devotion.”
“I’m not marrying him,” Eliza blurted.
Jon’s expression was as flat as his tone. “He appears to think otherwise.”
Glancing away, Eliza bit her lip. “Not for lack of trying to convince him on my part.”
He was silent for a moment. “I should go.”
Eliza brought her gaze back to Jon, not wanting him to leave yet. “You received my letter?”
He nodded. “It must have been quite horrific for you to dream about her death,” he said gently.
“It still is.”
“You’re still dreaming about her?”
Eliza hesitated. “Among other things.” She felt Jon’s hand on hers, and her pulse quickened.
“Like what?” he asked.
His touch was warm and comforting somehow, but Eliza wondered whether she should tell him any more. This might be her only chance. “Your mother speaks to me, and she told me that she’s in the lighthouse. But I don’t know why she tells me that or what she wants me to do.”
Jon’s eyes flickered, but his face remained grave. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I suppose it’s her way of letting us know what happened to her.”
Her tears began to fall, and Eliza wiped them away. “What happened to her was awful. I only wish she was able to board that ship to England.”
Jon dropped his hand and looked past her. “She might not have liked what she found.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I’ve been in England to settle my father’s estate, among other things,” he said. “Apparently, my father married soon after I was born. If my mother had arrived in England, she would have found him with a wife and child.”
“But she knew about his marriage.” A sigh escaped Eliza’s lips. She’d read it in the journal.
“Seeing it would have been hard.”
“Perhaps it was better that she never came over to England.”
“Perhaps.” Jon brought his gaze back to focus on her.
Eliza tried to think of something else to say that wouldn’t be unpleasant. But the only topics the two of them had in common seemed melancholy—Apryl and Thomas Beesley, Nathaniel Prann, or Helena. Feeling deflated, she said, “I should get back to—”
“To your future,” Jon finished.
“No, I don’t—”
Suddenly, Jon took both of her hands and held them to his chest.
Eliza’s breath hitched at his touch.
“It was a great surprise to see you again, Eliza,” he said. “And… finding you in good health, enjoying the social scene, was more than I expected. I hope you’ll be able to put the nightmare of my family tragedy behind you.”
She nodded blindly, her eyes stinging. “But meeting you was a blessing, not a nightmare.”
Jon held her hands tightly for another moment before he reached out and stroked her cheek. “Perhaps dreams do come true.”
Eliza searched for the words to say—words to keep him from going away. But he turned and left, disappearing into the night.
She stood there for several moments, staring after him, oblivious of the twinkling stars above. Finally the cold air made her to return to the dance hall, where she found a chair to sit on. She was relieved that no one asked her to dance, for she was trembling and sure her eyes were bloodshot. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm her breathing.
Perhaps dreams do come true. Just not mine.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The rest of the evening was a blur. When Eliza saw Gina, she hurried to her side.
“I’m not feeling well,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain.
Gina took one look at her and said, “I’ll fetch Nathaniel. Meet us at the entrance.”
The ride home was quiet after Eliza assured both Gina and Nathaniel that she was only tired and needed rest. Once they arrived at the townhouse, Nathaniel escorted both women inside.
After Gina disappeared upstairs, Eliza endured a clumsy goodbye in the form of a stiff hug with Nathaniel. Tonight had been nothing like she expected. She walked slowly up the stairs to her room, where she changed into her nightgown. Gina stayed downstairs, talking to her parents. Eliza fell into bed, clutching her pillow close, still feeling Jon’s warm touch on her cheek. Her tears could finally come, and she let them flow.
Eliza lay awake into the morning hours, afraid to sleep and dream. It wasn’t until after the sun had risen that she fell asleep, exhausted.
Soon after midday, Eliza woke with a start. When the events from the night before came into focus, she touched her cheek. Would she ever see Jon again? She rose and peered out the curtains. The normal business of the day seemed to be going on below, without her.
By the time the afternoon post arrived, the Graydons had left on errands. Eliza was dressed and sitting in the parlor, writing a letter home. Rochelle brought in the post on a tray and placed the letters next to her.
There was one from her parents, and another from… Eliza’s eyes widened at seeing Jon’s handwriting. She tore open the envelope and scanned to the end of the page. Nervously she began to read from the beginning.
Dear Eliza,
This letter may come at an inopportune time, but I have spent the whole of the night since leaving you, awake. Your connection with my mother is more remarkable than anything that I can express at this time. I tell myself over and over that I should be grateful for meeting you and Nathaniel in London. I offer my sincerest congratulations and know that you will be a strong and devoted couple.
I confess that seeing the two of you together made me anything but happy. I wasn’t prepared to feel this way upon seeing you again. Having said that, you probably don’t have the slightest idea what I am talking about.
When I received the letter from Apryl telling me that she’d fallen in love with Thomas Beesley, I was, in fact, envious. Not because she loved another, but because she knew what she wanted and had the courage to partake of it.
I did not think that I could look upon another woman and think of marriage—until I saw you at the dance.
Forgive me for my intrusion.
Sincerely,
Jonathan Porter
Eliza read the letter again and then a third time. Was Jon saying what she thought he was? That he truly cared for her? She dropped the letter onto the sofa and ran out of the parlor. “Rochelle, bring me my cloak.”
The maid appeared, a worried look on her face. “Where are you going?”
“To the harbor.”
“But a storm is approaching,” Rochelle protested.
“Call the carriage.”
“The Graydons took the carriage.”
“Then the wagon.”
Once the wagon was prepared, Eliza climbed in. She leaned forward, watching the passing scenery impatiently. She’d told the driver to make all haste, but he seemed to be driving unusually slow. Eliza retied the scarf about her head against the increasing wind. With luck, the weather would be too turbulent for Jon’s ship to depart today, and it would still be docked.
Even before they rounded the last bend, Eliza knew it was gone. Although she argued against the sinking feeling she had, when the harbor came into view, she couldn’t deny the fact that there was no ship in the harbor. Jon was gone.
Vendors were cleaning up their wares amidst howling gusts. She signaled for the carriage to stop and climbed out. Wrapping her arms about her, a fruitless effort to stave off the biting wind, she walked to the edge of the dock. Two ships were on the horizon, although it was difficult to tell whether they were departing or arriving. They might as well have been a thousand miles away, for all the good it would do her. Jon had left.
Head down, Eliza returned to the waiting wagon. The ride back to the townhouse was swift and cold. The single blanket did little to protect her from the icy draft.
Once inside the house, she went straight to the parlor and found the letter, unmoved, and took it to the hearth. Rochelle had lit a fire, and Eliza sat next to it, reading the letter over and over. Finally, she folded the pages and tucked them into her bodice.
Eliza had to tell Nathaniel the truth. He’d have to know she was in love with another man or Nathaniel would never give up. Even if she lived out her days as a spinster, she’d be more content on her own than marrying Nathaniel out of pity.
* * *
In the early evening, someone knocked at the door. Eliza sensed Nathaniel’s presence before she heard Rochelle greet him.
The Graydons were sitting in the parlor as well, and they all decided to go upstairs at once. By the time Nathaniel entered, Eliza was the only one in the room.
“Thou—I mean—you look tired,” Nathaniel said, taking her hands and gazing at her face.
Eliza lowered her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Or at all. She gently removed her hands from his and directed him to sit down.
Nathaniel smiled brightly. “Well, I have good news that might help. I received a letter from home, and my parents have reconciled themselves to my change of plans.”
“That’s wonderful for you,” Eliza said in a polite tone.
“I thought it would be wonderful for us.”
“Oh, Nathaniel. Please don’t do this.” Eliza rose and crossed to the darkened window.
Nathaniel came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I awoke this morning with a feeling of dread. Please, tell me you’ve changed your mind and that you’ll marry me.”
She turned and faced him. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
His face paled. “Then it’s true. How I envy Jonathan Porter.” His shoulders sagged, and his composure began to crumble.
“What are you talking about?”
“The man who has your love will be blessed for life.” He turned and paced the room. “I should have seen it in Maybrook, from that first moment I saw the both of you at the lighthouse.”
“I hardly know him—” Eliza began.
“Love isn’t knowledge.” He stopped and looked at her, his eyes flaming. “It comes from here,” he said, bringing his fist to his chest. “Thou wilt never know, Eliza, how thy rejection has wounded me.”
