by Phoebe Conn
Rather than respond with the excited squeal Melissa had expected, Alanna had to look away. The mention of a baby had brought such painful memories of her sisters and brother, that she needed a moment to shut them out. They had been beautiful children, and she tried always to think of them as angels surrounded by the glory of heaven, rather than as she had last seen them. It was a struggle, but finally she found a smile.
"Does Ian know?"
"No, not yet, and don't you dare tell him either! This is my news, and I'll share it with him when I'm certain. I had to tell you because there are times, like a few minutes ago, when I'm not quite myself, and I don't want you to worry. I'm sure it's perfectly natural."
"Shouldn't you speak with Dr. Earle?"
"Having a baby isn't like being sick, Alanna. There's no need for me to consult a physician. I'm feeling much better already."
The color had returned to Melissa's cheeks, so Alanna didn't argue, but she still felt uneasy. Melissa was right, it was time to grow up, but somehow she thought she had already done that a long time ago.
* * *
Melissa's wedding day was slightly overcast at dawn, but by the time she, her parents, and Alanna were dressed and ready to leave for the Bruton Parish Church, the skies were clear. May was always an exceptionally pretty month, and that year it was especially fine. It would be a glorious day for a wedding, and no effort had been spared to make Melissa and Ian's memorable.
Rachel had been too busy supervising the preparations to have time to consider the meaning of the day, but once she was seated opposite her daughter in the carriage, she could no longer stifle her tears, prompting her husband to scold her in a teasing fashion.
"This is supposed to be a happy occasion," he reminded her. "What will everyone think, if the mother of the bride is weeping throughout the ceremony?"
"They'll think me very sentimental, which I can't deny," Rachel replied.
Melissa was too happy to care what anyone said about her mother, but she hastened to defend her. "The wedding is going to be so beautiful, everyone will be moved to tears, and no one will think Mother is overly sentimental. I want to thank you both. Ian and I will never forget your kindness."
It was John who nearly choked on tears then. He took out his handkerchief and blew his nose to hide his discomfort, but both his wife and daughter understood the cause of his distress. For the past month, Melissa had remained at home, and her marriage had brought little change in their lives, but from that day on, she would be living with Ian, and her love and loyalty would belong to him. "Our home is going to seem empty without you," he finally managed to say.
"Just wait for the day when Ian and I come to visit with all ten of your grandchildren. Then you'll be happy to see me leave."
Amused by the thought of his lovely daughter surrounded by ten youngsters, all with Ian's bright red hair, John had to laugh. "When you put it that way, yes, I realize I ought to enjoy the quiet while I can. I wonder just how much longer you'll be with us, Alanna. You're so pretty today, we'll be lucky if someone doesn't run off with you, too."
"John, you hush about that," Rachel scolded. "One elopement was more than enough for this family."
Alanna was grateful her aunt had distracted her uncle so easily, but she could not even imagine herself becoming so enamored of a young man that she would consider marriage, let alone an elopement. She was thrilled for Melissa, but didn't expect to ever have a lavish wedding of her own. Perhaps it was because Melissa was already wed, but there had been very little in the way of confusion that morning. Their gowns had been laid out the previous evening, with every stocking and slip in its place, so they had been able to dress in less time than they had for parties. There had been no anxiety, no apprehensions, merely a calm commitment to giving this second wedding the look of a well-rehearsed formal rite.
Melissa and her family arrived at the Anglican church as the first of the guests began to appear. The priest had not been taken into their confidence, and before leaving the carriage, John reminded the women to keep their silence in that regard. "This is the day your marriage begins, Melissa, and none of us need ever admit otherwise. We'll ask for God's blessing today, but we've already been blessed, and I hope that for the rest of our lives, we'll never have to fool our friends and neighbors as we have this last month. Lies don't come easy to me, and I don't need more practice in using them. From now on, let's all endeavor to live lives where only the truth prevails."
"Amen," Rachel added.
Melissa nodded and, in her mind, her actions had all been governed by the truth. She cared deeply for Ian, and she intended to be all he would ever want in a wife. She took her father's hands as she left the carriage, and smiled bravely. "You'll never be sorry for this, Papa."
John had seen the love reflected in her eyes when she was with Ian, and didn't doubt her. He placed a kiss on her cheek and helped her adjust the fit of her veil. "I've never seen a lovelier bride. That's not to say that your mother wasn't a beauty, but today you look enough like she did on our wedding day, for me to mean that as a compliment to you both."
"Thank you, Papa."
The Frederick sisters and their parents arrived then, followed by additional guests; the bridal party entered the church to wait for the ceremony to begin. They heard the muffled conversation as the pews began to fill, and the deep tones of the organ as the hymns Melissa and Ian had chosen were played. John and Rachel smiled with memories of their own wedding, while Sarah and Robin Frederick looked forward to equally splendid ceremonies of their own. Melissa twisted the sapphire and diamond ring Ian had given her, and had only sweet thoughts of him. Alanna, with neither pleasant memories nor hopeful dreams, stood nearest the door and, when all the guests had arrived, conveyed the priest's signal to begin.
The church had been decorated with huge bouquets of white roses and camellias. Sarah, Robin, and Alanna were dressed in gowns of ice blue taffeta with the iridescent sheen of pearls, and Rachel was equally lovely in an exquisite shade of sky blue. The golden threads interwoven in the ivory satin of Melissa's gown reflected the sunlight streaming in the windows, framing her in a hallowed glow. The guests responded with appreciative gasps as her father escorted her down the aisle, but all she saw was Ian.
Recently promoted to captain, Ian's red coat was accented with deep blue lapels, generous amounts of gold braid, and two rows of brass buttons. His waistcoat, while bordered in gold, matched the cream-color of his britches. A pair of highly polished black boots and a sword completed his attire. Melissa had chosen blue for her bridesmaid's dresses, not simply because it was her favorite color, but because blue blended perfectly with the uniforms Ian and his friends would wear.
When Ian took her hand and winked slyly, she realized he was as calm as she. After a month as his wife, she was convinced they had been meant to be together, and repeated her vows in a confident tone that held no hint of tears. Ian was her choice, and if anyone had attempted to tell her how wrong her original reason for marrying him had been, she would have argued that today, her motive was the right one. When they were pronounced husband and wife for the second time, she was happier than she had ever thought she could be.
"I love you," she whispered.
Ian responded with a kiss, before escorting her up the aisle and out into the sunshine. The beauty of the day had convinced him they were the luckiest of couples, and would have a long and happy life together. He helped Melissa into the carriage for the ride to her home for the reception, and pulled her across his lap.
"Do you remember the last time we made this same trip together?" he asked.
"Yes, and while this wedding was all I could have hoped, I'm glad we didn't wait for today."
"So am I," Ian teased, and with a low growl he nibbled her throat. He was so lost in her he could not wait for the day to end to make love to her again, but when he suggested they put the carriage ride to a better use, she appeared to be shocked.
"My goodness, Captain, I'll thank you to k
eep such scandalous thoughts to yourself today. We are supposed to behave like a very proper bride and groom, and I don't want to give our friends any other impression. Besides, the ride isn't nearly long enough to make love to you as I'd like to."
Charmed by that promise, Ian ceased to complain, but he still would have liked to have made love to her right then and there. He told himself he would have a lifetime to make love to Melissa, but somehow he didn't think that would be nearly enough time either.
* * *
True to his promise, Randolph O'Neil came looking for Alanna as soon as the dancing began. The furniture had been removed from the parlor to create a small ballroom, and he led her out into the middle of the floor. The musicians had begun with a lilting minuet, and all around them couples traced graceful figures. Self-conscious as always, Alanna tried to remember to smile as she danced, so she would appear to be enjoying herself as much as her partner, but Randolph wasn't fooled.
When the first tune melted into the second, he kept hold of her hand. Along with a sumptuous meal, the Barclays were serving a rum punch flavored with pineapple and lemons, and he suggested they have a cup, then lured her outside where they could escape the crowd for a few minutes. "While I'm not as old a man as your uncle, I'm going to feel very foolish asking his permission to call on you. If you'd rather not see me, I'd appreciate your saying so now, as it will save me an embarrassing ordeal."
Amused by his plea, Alanna's smile was now genuine. "I've never had any callers, Mr. O'Neil, and I've no idea how to entertain you. Perhaps you would be saving us both an embarrassing ordeal, if you did not speak to my uncle."
Randolph laughed with her. "You see, you do know how to entertain callers. I can't believe that you haven't had any though. Of course, until recently, I seldom saw you except at church. I imagine other men lacked the same opportunity to impress you."
Uncertain what to say, Alanna frowned slightly. Where should she begin? she wondered. Should she describe how her family had been murdered, and explain how love and loss were so closely intertwined in her mind, she couldn't separate them? Surely that wasn't the kind of charming tale a young woman told to regale her suitors.
Alanna's expression revealed the answer she didn't seem to be able to put into words, and Randolph regretfully provided his own reply. "You'd rather I didn't call on you, wouldn't you?"
Alanna was close to tears. "It's not that I don't like you, Mr. O'Neil. It's just that I doubt I'll ever wish to marry and have children. There's really no need for me to entertain callers then, is there?"
"How old are you, Alanna?"
"Seventeen."
"That's rather young to choose a spinster's life, don't you think?"
"It's not really a matter of choice, Mr. O'Neil," Alanna argued halfheartedly.
"You're a lovely young woman," he leaned forward to whisper. "All you need is a little more time to grow up. I'll try and be patient. Shall we go back inside?"
Alanna knew her decision had nothing to do with age, but let the matter drop. "I think I'll stay out here awhile, thank you." He took her empty cup with him, and she turned toward the garden but she hadn't taken more than three steps before Graham Tyler appeared at her side. He was as splendidly attired as Ian and greeted her with a delighted grin.
"I've been hoping for a chance to speak with you alone. There wasn't time at the church, of course, with all the confusion to get everyone into carriages for the trip here. Now that I've finally found you, I hope that you might have a few minutes for me. If you'd rather dance, I'd be pleased to be your partner. I'll be happy to do whatever you'd like."
"Do you think that you could stroll through the garden without talking incessantly?" Alanna regretted that comment as soon as she had spoken it. "I'm sorry, that was very rude of me, but, Graham, must you be so talkative?"
Rather than being as badly embarrassed as Alanna had feared, Graham started to laugh. "I'm so horribly nervous when I'm with you, I don't have any idea what I'm saying. If you'd rather I just be quiet, it would be a great relief to me as well."
"Some men are too quiet, and that's upsetting, too." Alanna looked around hurriedly to make certain Stuart Harnett wasn't anywhere near. "Perhaps we could just stroll for a while, and wait until something interesting occurs to us. Then the conversation would be far easier for us both."
Unwilling to spoil what he considered a rare stroke of good fortune, Graham offered his arm, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Chapter 10
Toward the end of May, Washington's men crossed the main range of the Alleghenies and camped in the shadow of the next barrier, Laurel Hill. The ground here at Great Meadows was level, covered in thick grass and bushes nourished by the waters of a small brook. The one hundred fifty men, who had labored so hard to cut a wide swath through the forest, were in sore need of reinforcements, but Colonel Fry had yet to arrive with the rest of the regiment. As for Captain Trent's frontiersmen, they had been so badly discouraged after the surrender of their fort to the French, they had wanted no more to do with the militia, and had resumed their solitary lives in the woods.
While the majority of the men remained at Great Meadows, Hunter and Elliott were with George Washington exploring the Youghiogheny, a branch of the Monongahela, when a messenger arrived from Monacatootha, the chief who had accompanied the young lieutenant colonel to Fort Le Boeuf the previous fall. Having been humiliated by the French when he had voiced the Indians' demands that they leave the Ohio Valley, he was a staunch ally of the British. Washington had every reason to trust him.
"Monacatootha says the French have left their fort in search of Englishmen to fight. They may be no more than twenty miles distant," Washington warned.
A decision was quickly made to return to Great Meadows and, as the others started back down the river, Elliott drew Hunter aside. "You were hired as a scout, not a soldier. If you wish to leave, as Trent's men did, no one will call you a coward."
Hunter could not look at either Elliott or Byron without being reminded of Melissa. Neither was as blond as his sister, but their eyes were just as vivid a blue. He did not believe she would be favorably impressed if he were to leave her brothers to face the French alone, but he chose not to mention his desire to please her in his reply.
"I won't leave before my job is done, and you still need me to track the French."
"Well, yes, that's true, but—"
Hunter rested his hand lightly on Elliott's shoulder. "I don't carry a musket, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to fire one."
Elliott studied the Indian's sly smile, and readily guessed its meaning. "You're probably the best shot in camp, aren't you?"
"Do you want to arrange a contest?"
Elliott had to laugh. "No, not yet, but I'm glad you'll stay with us. I think you'll bring us luck."
"You are going to need it."
"Yes, I know. Now come on, let's hurry. We don't want to be left behind."
Hunter was not concerned about falling behind and becoming lost, but he could see Elliott was, and hurried him along rather than tease him about it.
Great Meadows was surrounded by wooded hills and on one side furrowed by a gully. As soon as his scouting party returned to camp, Washington set part of his men to work deepening the gully to form an entrenchment, while the others cleared the open field of shrubs to prepare for battle. Rather than help with that effort, Hunter went out to search the woods for the advancing enemy. At dusk he returned to the meadow where most of the men were too excited to eat, but he helped himself to the rice and salt pork the cooks had prepared, and went to sleep early.
The next morning he again scoured the woods for some sign of French soldiers, but returned to camp without having gathered any valuable intelligence. He knew they were coming, but apparently they were moving much slower than anyone had anticipated, or perhaps they were circling wide to approach them from an unexpected direction. Whatever their plan, Hunter did not like it anymore than he relished the thought of battling th
em on a wide plain, where the only cover was a shallow ditch.
The next morning, Christopher Gist paid them a visit. He had served as a guide on Washington's fall expedition, and now lived at a settlement on the far side of Laurel Hill. He had traveled a dozen miles to bring important news.
"There must have been fifty Frenchmen at my house yesterday. They would have stolen everything had the Indians who care for the place not been there. You've enough men here to defeat them easily."
Volunteers were plentiful, and with Gist's directions, seventy-five men went out to search for the French, but they had no better luck than Hunter had in finding them and, discouraged, returned to camp before nightfall. Soon after, another messenger arrived from Monacatootha, who had found suspicious tracks and believed he had discovered where the French were hiding. Taking forty men, Washington led this search party himself. It was now dark and raining, but the men followed in a weary procession that lasted until dawn.
Blessed with greater stamina than most men, Hunter traveled fast and stayed near the head of the line, but occasionally he would drop back to make certain Elliott was still with them. The rain had turned the narrow path into a slippery quagmire that tugged at the soles of the men's boots one minute, and then turned slick as a wet mirror the next. In the darkness, men who stumbled and lagged behind soon found themselves lost in the dense forest, and unable to call out for help for fear of alerting the French, they had to huddle alone until dawn. When Washington at last arrived at the place where Monacatootha was camped with a dozen of his warriors, seven of his soldiers had been lost.
Eager to fight the French, two of Monacatootha's warriors led the way; again traveling in single file, the men of the Virginia Regiment and their Indian allies followed the suspicious tracks to a rocky ravine. Finding a small force of French soldiers encamped there, Washington gave the order to fire. While one Canadian managed to escape, within a few minutes ten of the Frenchmen were killed, including the ensign, Coulon de Jumonville, who was slain by Monacatootha. The fury of the fighting was enough to prompt the surviving twenty-two men to surrender.
