by Dina Sleiman
“I…well…that is to say…”
Dolly came crashing through the verandah door at that very moment. “Miss Cavendish, Miss Cavendish. Oh, thank goodness! Here you are.” Dolly pressed a hand to her heart. “Mother’s in a tizzy searching for you. It’s nearly time.”
“So sorry, Dolly. I was right nearby, as you can see.”
Lorimer struggled with his temper. How dare the girl interrupt them now? “Your mother is always in a tizzy over something. Give us a minute.”
“Absolutely not! We need her now.” Dolly stared at him, aghast.
“I’m sorry, Lorimer. I must go.” Constance patted his hand.
The gesture seemed so dismissive. “Save me a dance?”
“For you, an entire set.” She grinned over her shoulder, wrinkling her pert nose, as she followed Dolly into the ballroom.
Lorimer shook his head and walked inside. Dolly had not exaggerated. A crowd had gathered in the ballroom. Dolly hustled Constance to Mrs. Beaumont’s side. Robbie stood across from Mrs. Beaumont. Constance and Robbie, however, never looked directly at one another. Instead, both focused upon the gathered spectators.
Mrs. Beaumont held her glass high in the air and tapped it with a spoon. All attention turned to her.
“Greetings, guests. We’re so glad to have you all here with us this evening for this auspicious occasion to welcome our daughters Molly and Dolly into the grand society of Albemarle County.”
Everyone cheered.
“Here! Here!” called President Jefferson from where he stood next to his successor, the recently retired President Madison.
“Mr. Beaumont, would you like to say a few words?” Mrs. Beaumont held her hand to him. He crossed the room and kissed it. Sighs and giggles filtered from the crowd.
“You’re doing a wonderful job, darling. Please continue.”
Lorimer smiled. The couple never failed to entertain him.
“Then with no further ado,” Mrs. Beaumont continued, “I would like to open tonight’s festivities with a rare treat from across the Atlantic Ocean. We’ve prepared for you a waltz, which will be introduced by my own son, Mr. Robert Montgomery, and our lovely dance mistress, Miss Constance Cavendish. They will be joined by my dear twins and some of our area’s finest youngsters. As the second song begins, we shall split the couples so that more of you might learn the steps and join in the merriment.”
She swiveled to the orchestra director. “Whenever you’re ready, good sir.”
The crowd applauded once again as Constance laid her hand upon Robbie’s, and he led her to the center of the floor.
Lorimer’s gut caught. In the next few moments he would know. Constance could never hide her emotions while she danced.
As Robbie and Constance bowed and curtsied, they looked over one another’s shoulders. But when he took her in the first hold, their gazes caught hold as well. In Constance’s eyes glimmered the last thing Lorimer wished to see.
Hope.
* * *
Constance blinked, as if to wake herself from a dream. And a dream it seemed, indeed. Much like the vision from yesterday, she felt certain it could not be real. Robbie led her about the room so expertly, so skillfully, she’d forgotten to be upset or afraid. She simply lost herself in the swirl of music and spinning, safe within his strong arms.
He tugged her toward him and released her again. She glanced up timidly. Love and admiration shone from his eyes. Warmth filled her, like heated syrup, and flowed from her center to her fingertips and toes. She sighed in spite of herself.
Around her the youngsters spun through their unique variations they had created for this night, as she and Robbie continued with the classic steps.
He smiled down at her. Her lips curved upward of their own accord. His sky blue eyes had never appeared so handsome, so trustworthy, so utterly hers.
Could she allow him to lead her to healing as her vision bid? Perhaps. But what precisely that meant, how it might play out in the light of day, she had no clue. She simply could not imagine accepting him, and in so doing, betraying her own family.
The dance concluded to rousing applause. They bowed and curtseyed one last time with a completely different energy than they had when they began the piece—sparks popping between them, gazes locked and heated.
Robbie led her to the front of the room as the young people found new partners game to try the “scandalous” steps. He pressed his hand, strong and warm, over hers. A light glowed in his eyes. Like a beacon from a lighthouse in the storm, guiding her home.
Mrs. Beaumont stepped to the center of the room once again. “And now our orchestra will be accompanied by the delightful Miss Patience Cavendish as she sings and plays the fortepiano for your listening delight.”
Once the first strains wafted over the crowd, the simpering Mrs. Beaumont strode back to them. “Oh, my dears. Constance! Robbie! It was perfect. You were perfect. I wish you could have heard them rave as you danced.”
Constance craned her neck in search of Lorimer. She must find him and give him her answer as soon as possible. Never would she wish to be left wondering as she’d done to him on the verandah. She wouldn’t willingly do so to her worst enemy, let alone her dearest friend, the man she so admired with all her being.
A hefty matron in yards of blue crepe bustled over. “Well, I shall rave now and prove you true, Mrs. Beaumont.”
Constance turned to a strikingly familiar face. “Mrs. Wellington!” The very lady who’d rebuffed her so soundly in Richmond a few short months ago.
Mrs. Wellington extricated Constance’s hand from Robbie’s and clasped it in her own, patting the top like one might the head of an obedient child. “It was truly an honor to watch you, Miss Cavendish. I am not often wrong, but I like to think in the rare instance that I am, I have the graciousness to admit it. Richmond has misjudged the Cavendish ladies. To think we had such treasure under our noses and missed it the entire time.”
Perhaps if she lowered her nose from… but Constance cut off the uncharitable thought. She held her Gingersnap temper in check with a different sort of mercy that flowed from within. This woman no longer towered as her superior; she was merely another wounded human in need of God’s love.
“You are a wonder, my dear. A dancing genius.” Mrs. Wellington gestured to Patience. “And your sister, so lovely with her music.”
“Don’t forget, Mrs. Cavendish and young Felicity created these gowns,” said Mrs. Beaumont.
“How could I? Mrs. Whitby herself did not do such a fine job on my own,” Mrs. Wellington said with a tsk.
“Felicity paints as well. And Patience is quite skilled at academics.” Constance felt she should add these accolades in all fairness, although she no longer felt any compulsion to impress the woman.
Wrapping her ample arm about Constance, Mrs. Wellington strolled her away from Mrs. Beaumont and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know our hostess has plans to keep you here, but you simply must return to Richmond, my dear. We can’t have such talents going to waste in the wilderness. I shall be your sponsor, and we shall open a fine school for young ladies. Wouldn’t that be splendid?”
Constance patted the lady’s hand this time. “That is truly too kind of you. I shall give the matter all due consideration.” She twisted to look over her shoulder at the sincerely kind Mrs. Beaumont and the handsome young man who stood at her side.
CHAPTER 36
Franklin dug his heels deep into his horse’s flanks. The poor animal huffed, and truth be told, Franklin greatly preferred a sedate pace to this headlong rush. But he had no time to spare. His heart, his meaning, his very existence stood pinioned upon the rocky ledge of annihilation.
He simply must have Miss Cavendish. Must find her and woo her for his own. When she’d left, he’d known for certain that he could never live without her. But then, even once he’d made his firm decision to chase after her, his uncle’s poor health had held him in town for days. How each cough had racked his nerves. He just
knew some other man would whisk her away from him. Possibly that Lorimer creature—or worse.
And when he’d arrived in Charlottesville to learn that the ball of the season took place this very night at the home where the Cavendishes resided…He whipped the horse with his crop, hoping not to injure the animal, but desperate to arrive before disaster struck.
Ahead he spied a carriage pulling through a stone-and-iron gate. This must be the place, for he’d been told every family of quality would be here tonight. He turned his horse through the entry to White Willow Hall and sped past the carriage upon the grass. Franklin pounded over a rise and past a fish pond. The grand mansion of the planter elite class sat ahead. A class he would always serve but never be a part of.
At the front portico with its soaring columns, a Negro servant dressed in crimson livery met him. “Good evening, sir. Might I take your horse?”
Franklin slid down, staring in disbelief, and pulled his valise with him. This servant’s garments were far finer than his own traveling attire, but he could spare no time worrying about such matters.
“Thank you, my good chap.” Franklin handed the man his reins.
He rushed up the steps and to the front door, an excuse about his missing invitation ready on his lips, but an even more elegant servant welcomed him. “Do come in, sir. May I offer you a room to change, sir?” The kind offer held a hint of sternness.
Surveying the elegant entry hall filled with guests in formal attire, Franklin realized that he must at least take a moment to wash and don his frock coat after all. His heart raced as he followed the servant up the stairs.
* * *
Patience managed to slip away from her bevy of admirers at long last, although their praise filled her with a pleasant buzz. The mellow strains of the orchestra washed over her like warm rain. What an evening!
She searched for Constance through the crowd and spotted her heading to Mr. Lorimer. Striving not to run, she rather glided quickly in her direction to cut her off before she reached the man. Grasping the puffy, sheer gauze about her sister’s arm, Patience tugged her to the hall. “Constance, you won’t believe it.”
Constance pursed her lips. “Won’t believe what? That Mrs. Wellington has proposed we return to Richmond and open a school?”
“How did you know?”
“She tried me first, but I demurred to answer. How like the stalwart lady to wage a different plan of attack. We should have used her in the war. No doubt the British would have run off screaming years earlier.”
Patience swatted her sister. “How can you jest at a time like this?”
“Wouldn’t you rather stay here in Charlottesville? Mrs. Randolph has made a similar offer you know, and we have true friends in this place.”
Patience blinked in confusion. “But I thought you’d be happy to get far away from Robbie.”
“Perhaps not so happy.” Constance offered a secretive little smile.
“But you said…”
“Never mind what I said. Which would you prefer, and Mother and Felicity?”
“Well,” Patience scanned her thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s a wonder to be such a success and have so many options. I suppose we all must sit down and discuss it together.”
“Excellent plan. Come. Let’s rejoin the dancing. I promised Mr. Lorimer a set.”
“Ah, is that the real reason you desire to stay?” Patience wiggled her brows.
“I’m still discerning my thoughts on the matter. It’s been a rather overwhelming evening.”
“So true.” Patience pondered her own evening. How wonderful to be praised for her singing and playing. But what did she truly desire? Love, perhaps. A family of her own, for certain. A husband with whom she could discuss science and mathematics.
Mr. Sugarbaker might be such a man. He’d been educated in the North with Robert Montgomery. Tonight she must test him and see if he had more to him than fashion and society. How nice it would be to own a plantation.
But what of dear Mr. Franklin, awaiting her in Richmond? If he were here tonight, she would rush to his side for the familiar companionship and the promise of stimulating conversation. They could open that school for girls now, and nothing would stand in their path.
“Come, let’s go.” Constance moved toward the parlor, and Patience followed as her thoughts spun.
When they passed through the archway to the crowded room, a call came from the top of the stairs. “Wait! Wait! Miss Cavendish, I must speak with you!”
Mr. Franklin came careening down the steps at an alarming rate Patience had not known him capable of. Mr. Franklin! Whatever on earth could he be doing here?
She and Constance froze, side by side in the archway, uncertain of whom he addressed.
He ran, winded, across the hall, knelt before them, and stared down at the floor.
Did the man mean to propose? Good gracious! Patience did not know what she might say and had indeed hoped to have months to decipher her true feelings and explore her many opportunities.
“My dear Miss Cavendish, I’ve journeyed all this way at breakneck speed, for there is something I must beg of you.”
Patience’s heart welled up in her chest. She truly did hold the man in high esteem and great affection. What a lovely life they might have together.
He turned his head up. His soft brown eyes welled up with love. “Miss Cavendish.”
By now a crowd had gathered. They hovered close by, waiting for the scene to unfold. Mr. Franklin reached and took, not her hand, but rather her sister’s hand in his. “Miss Constance Cavendish.”
Patience’s face went cold. She thought she might faint and leaned against the archway.
“Time has proven that I cannot live without you. I beg of you, please, will you be my wife?”
Constance lifted him to his feet, compassion written across her features. “Dear Mr. Franklin, I think we should continue this conversation privately in the study.”
Patience took a deep, bracing breath. “You may all leave now.” She clapped her hands to rouse the surrounding onlookers. “The show is finished. There’s nothing more to see. Be about your business.”
The group dispersed with a few disappointed mutters.
She pressed her nails into her palms in an attempt to gather her nerve. No, she would not be ruled by her emotions, and she would most assuredly not cry. This was the answer she’d needed. Her mind cleared of all cloudy confusion. She would search out Mr. Sugarbaker as soon as this Franklin matter concluded.
Mr. Franklin emerged from the study a few moments later, pathetic as a kicked puppy with his drooping head and weary shuffle. In that instant, she forgot her own pain and disappointment. All else aside, Thaddeus remained her good friend.
As he wandered aimlessly through the hall, she took his elbow in a gentle grasp. “Perhaps, Mr. Franklin, I may lead you to the library and the company of the men. Mr. Beaumont shall no doubt take you under his wing.”
He lifted his head, but his eyes never focused. “Yes, of course. Whatever you suggest.”
She took him in that direction, shooting a glance over her shoulder to Constance, bidding her to wait. Constance knew her signals well and nodded her agreement.
In only a moment, she settled Mr. Franklin with the hospitable gentlemen, none of whom mentioned his unfortunate entrance into Albemarle society, and grabbed up her skirts to hurry back to Constance.
Constance hid on the little cushioned bench in the curve of the stairwell. As Patience approached, her sister banged her head backward with soft thumps against the wainscoted wall. She tucked herself onto the bench beside Constance. “I assume you turned him down.”
“Yes, painful as it was. But I could have sworn I did so months ago. When I saw him on the stairs, I thought for certain he would offer for you.”
Patience bit her lip. “So did I, but it’s fine. As I awaited his proposal, I found myself happy and frightened all at once. We have so many choices before us. I wasn’t prepared to say yes either
, although I might have given him some hope for the future.”
“Well, there’s no hope for Mr. Franklin and me.” Constance gave Patience’s hand a squeeze. “Perhaps in time he’ll come to see that you are the better choice.” She stood and brushed down her gorgeous rose gown. “For now, I need to find Mr. Lorimer.”
Patience giggled. “I do not need your handed-down beaux, big sister. In fact, I was just about to go in search of Mr. Sugarbaker.” Standing as well, she tucked a stray copper wisp behind her sister’s ear. “I’ll land on my feet as always. The Cavendishes are like cats that way.”
“That we are.” Constance clasped Patience by the forearms and kissed her soundly upon the cheek. “That we are.”
CHAPTER 37
Franklin sat alone on the verandah, staring at the vast, empty sky. Alone, again. Empty, as always. The gentlemen had been gracious and asked the appropriate questions of him, but he grew exhausted from the company of strangers. Perhaps he should go in search of Patience. Despite his shabby treatment of her, he knew she would not abandon him. Or Felicity, who would be sure to greet him with a squeal and a hug. Yes, Felicity would do nicely. The girl never failed to lift his spirits.
A well-dressed woman of middle years wandered through the door and joined him on the porch. She offered him a small smile but seemed not to wish to disturb his silence. At that moment the clouds parted, and she gazed for a while at the single shimmering constellation beyond.
After taking a deep breath, she turned to Franklin. “My favorite, Cassiopeia. I do so adore the study of the stars.”
Franklin looked into the face of the elegant, dark-haired woman. “Are you a lover of science, ma’am?”
“Indeed I am, but not so much of an expert, I’m afraid.” She chuckled and settled upon the rail across from him.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but that would be Sagittarius that’s caught your fancy tonight. Not Cassiopeia.”
“Excellent.” The lady patted her hands upon her lap. “I confess to testing you.” She paused a moment to examine Franklin. “And I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how are you feeling, sir?”
