by Louise Clark
Perhaps she did value her connections in Lexington, but that hadn’t prevented her from bowing to her husband’s wishes. Over the past week Lady Elizabeth had made it very clear that the person behind the arrangement with Colonel Bradley was Mary Elizabeth’s father, and that whatever her feelings, she must obey him in all things, even the ruination of her daughter’s future.
As the parlor that opened off the entry hall was the room in which the family gathered, finding her father in her mother’s domain alerted Mary Elizabeth that whatever message was about to be passed to her was one she could expect not to like.
Lady Elizabeth was seated on one of the armless chairs, the more comfortable one with the brocaded back and seat. Her hands were clasped in her lap and her expression was unreadable. Mary Elizabeth couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable with her husband’s invasion of her small domain, or indifferent. She was wearing a gown cut on severe lines and as muted as Mary Elizabeth’s own. It was different enough from her mother’s usual style to be worrisome.
Her father, however, was dressed with his usual wealthy elegance. His coat was velvet, his shirt snowy white, the lace at his wrists and throat of the finest quality. His breeches were silk and there were silver buckles on his shoes. He stood with his back to the window, his hands clasped behind him, his face in shadow. Mary Elizabeth found it impossible to judge his mood. However, it did not take her long to discover that he wasn’t happy.
“Your inappropriate rebellion has gone on long enough, daughter,” he said in a clipped tone. “Colonel Bradley has returned to Boston as his duties did not allow him to remain any longer.”
Mary Elizabeth bowed her head, but didn’t reply. She was relieved that the colonel had departed. She hoped he had also decided that marrying her would be a bad idea for all concerned.
“He was not pleased,” her father went on, his voice icy cold. “In fact, he expressed a certain reticence to continue with the betrothal, since he refuses to marry a reluctant bride.”
Colonel Bradley went up a couple of notches in Mary Elizabeth’s estimation, but only a couple. He didn’t reach the level of being an acceptable life partner. No, only Andrew held that title in her mind and heart.
“What have you to say to that, daughter?”
Obviously, a cheer wasn’t the answer her father wanted. She swallowed hard and said as politely as she could, “Colonel Bradley shows his honor and truly excellent breeding, Papa.”
Her father eyed her critically. “Yes, he does. Indeed, his exemplary behavior exposes the shallow pettiness of yours.”
She pursed her lips, biting back a retort. There was nothing shallow or petty about her refusal to accept Bradley’s proposal. This was her future. She didn’t want to spend it in England as wife to a professional soldier or a budding politician. Or, for that matter, as a titled lady of the ton.
“Well?” her father said. “What have you to say, daughter?”
“I’m sorry, Papa.” She didn’t think the words would pacify him, but it was at least worth a try.
It didn’t work. Unfortunately, it enraged him further. “I was able to convince Colonel Bradley that your behavior was simply that of a timid and naïve young girl afraid of such a major change in her life,” he said, biting out the words through stiff lips. “He allowed me another week to soothe your fears here, in Lexington. I have promised him that at the end of the week you and your mother will return to Boston. There you will accept his proposal in as pretty a fashion as any man could want. You will be married before he returns to England.”
Mary Elizabeth’s gaze flew to his. “And if I do not, Papa?”
Her father’s features twisted with anger. “If you refuse Colonel Bradley’s offer, you will be sent to England on the next ship out. There your uncle has promised to find you a husband. His steward needs a wife. As does the fellow who manages his stables.” He paused to let that sink in. “Think on it, daughter. Marriage to an aristocrat? Or to one of the lower orders? Which would you prefer?”
She didn’t wish for either. “Papa—”
Her mother, who had remained silent through her father’s lecture, interrupted the entreaty that hovered on Mary Elizabeth’s lips. “All will be forgiven if you repent, Mary Elizabeth.” Her voice was low, husky with suppressed emotion. “Attend church with us this morning. Use the time for prayer and reflection. I am sure you will come to understand what course you must take.” Her expression was grave as she took Mary Elizabeth’s hand in a comforting way. She tried to smile, but her expression—and the comfort offered—failed.
George Strand muttered, “What nonsense,” under his breath. Louder, he said, “You spoil the girl, Lady Elizabeth. She’ll come to heel, or she will regret it.”
The look her mother shot her father was anger veiled in deference. “You are, of course, correct, Mr. Strand. I do believe, however, that reflection in a sanctified place cannot help but to build understanding of what is important. I am sure that once the service is over, Mary Elizabeth will feel able to make the decision she must.” She looked back at her daughter. “Won’t you, my dear?”
What could she say? Eyes lowered again, Mary Elizabeth dropped a curtsey and murmured, “As you say, Mama.”
Her father made a derisive sound, but Lady Elizabeth rose and said, “Come then, let us be on our way. We would not want to be late for the service.”
“The Reverend Turner knows better than to start before we are seated,” her father snapped.
Lady Elizabeth flushed, but she managed a small smile and was able to keep her tone light. “Nevertheless, it is always an excellent strategy to be on time, if possible.”
The subject of Colonel Bradley and her betrothal to him was not brought up again during the carriage ride to the church, but Mary Elizabeth’s thoughts never strayed far from it. She had friends in Lexington, but no way to alert them to her plight. There had been no time to write a note to Andrew, one that she could pass to one of her friends with a request that it be given to him personally. She knew that her father would keep her close while they were in church, and later in the churchyard, minimizing her opportunity for private conversation to little or none. No matter which way she examined the problem, she could find no way to escape.
By the time the church service began she was resigned to accepting Bradley’s proposal, because she certainly didn’t want to be packed off to England for a humiliating marriage to a complete stranger. At least she knew Colonel Bradley was an honorable man.
As she sat through the service, she did as her mother had asked and prayed for guidance, and for the humility to accept an arranged marriage she didn’t want. It was then that the daring thought entered her head.
She could promise to wed Colonel Bradley, but she didn’t have to actually go through with it.
How could she not, though? She had such a short time left here in Lexington. She could not conceive of a way that Andrew could arrange for them to be married in that time. She took heart from the thought that they did not have to be married here, in Lexington. Andrew could travel to Boston and they could be wed there. She would have to jilt Colonel Bradley, of course. That would infuriate the colonel and send her father into apoplexy. She refused to let that thought influence her. Whatever she did to avoid the arranged marriage would infuriate him. There was no way around it.
There was another issue that would come from jilting Colonel Bradley. A betrothal was as binding as a marriage. To accept, then refuse would dishonor her, make her suspect in the eyes of many. Was Andrew one of those? He was a man of principles and strong beliefs. Would her subterfuge make her less desirable to him? Would he think her fickle?
Was there a way to make the colonel refuse to marry her? Perhaps when she was in Boston, she could encourage other suitors to court her and turn Bradley against her. That was a dangerous plan, as both the colonel and her father were men of influence. There would be few suitors willing to approach her. Besides, if she encouraged other courtships she would be down the sa
me road of tarnishing her reputation. Her goal was to marry Andrew if he was still willing to have her. Other suitors would only complicate an already confused situation and might turn Andrew away as well.
The thought of Andrew made her realize that there was only one solution to her dilemma. The only solution as far as her heart was concerned. Andrew would have to find a way to marry her now, here in Lexington, before she returned to Boston. For such a marriage to take place she would have to be able to speak to him.
She considered ways of arranging a meeting. Through one of the servants or a mutual friend? Either was possible, but to actually get to the meeting she had to be able to move about freely. While she was locked in her room that was impossible, but the only way out of seclusion was to accept Colonel Bradley’s proposal.
She sighed inwardly. So be it, she decided. As soon as the service was over she would tell her father that she would wed the colonel. Perhaps then she would be allowed some freedom of movement and she could steal away to have a few words with Andrew before they left the churchyard.
“Mama,” she whispered, as the congregation was rising to its feet and people began to shuffle from the pews into the aisles. “I…You were right. Reflection did help. I…I will marry Colonel Bradley.”
Lady Elizabeth sighed. She put her hand to Mary Elizabeth’s cheek. “A wise decision, child.” She glanced at her husband. “Mr. Strand. We must plan a wedding!”
Her father frowned as he looked over at Mary Elizabeth. He apparently wasn’t as trusting as his wife. “Indeed?”
“Yes, Papa,” Mary Elizabeth said, making her expression as dutiful as she could.
“Very well,” Strand said with a firm nod. He hailed the minister, who was heading down the aisle to his post at the door. “Mr. Turner, I have news of some import to relay.”
“Indeed, sir,” Turner said. He smiled a greeting to the two ladies. “And what can that be?”
“You remember Colonel Bradley who was staying with us this past week?” Strand pitched his voice loud. It echoed throughout the church.
Mary Elizabeth was uncomfortably aware that his words captured everyone’s attention as the other members of the congregation waited to hear what was so important that the minister would be stopped in his normal execution of his duties. Mary Elizabeth caught sight of Andrew near the doorway. His expression was guarded, his body tense. She suspected he had guessed her father’s news and her heart clenched at the pain she would soon be causing him.
“He has requested the hand of my daughter in marriage and I have agreed.”
Mr. Turner raised his brows. He cast Mary Elizabeth a searching look. “And what of Miss Strand? Has she agreed as well?”
Mary Elizabeth lowered her eyes and swallowed. The lie was a lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away, but she knew she would have to speak around it. She looked up into the minister’s eyes. She hoped he—and certain other members of the congregation, most specifically, Andrew—would understand the real meaning of what she was about to say. “My father has convinced me that Colonel Bradley would be a fine husband, well able to provide for me, and one who is most acceptable to my family. Though I hardly know the good colonel, I must trust in my father’s judgment and believe in his choice for me.” She stopped, swallowed hard and added, “I must thank you, Reverend Turner. Your service today helped me to understand what I truly wanted.”
“I am glad of it, my child,” he said, though he looked confused. His sermon had been on the value God placed on hard work and honest toil, hardly the stuff to soothe the fears of an anxious bride-to-be. He looked at George Strand, his brows raised. When he spoke, his voice was sharp with authority. “It will be a long engagement, I presume. I hope that the lovely Miss Strand will be wed from our church here where she has made such a positive impact on our community.”
Her father colored at the tone. He said briskly, “She will be wed in Boston, as soon as the banns can be read.”
That snapped the minister’ brows together in a frown. “Does Colonel Bradley believe the lady will change her mind?” Disapproval of such a hasty marriage was evident in his tone.
“Colonel Bradley wishes to have his affairs in order before he returns to England,” her father said curtly.
The minister’s frown deepened. A low hum of displeasure could be heard from the congregation, still listening to the polite sparring with unabashed interest. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary Elizabeth saw Andrew push past his friend Ron Aiken. Aiken caught Andrew’s elbow and shook his head. Andrew shot him an angry look and jerked from Aiken’s hold.
Now was the moment for Mary Elizabeth to send her message and hope that Andrew would understand her concealed intent. “If Colonel Bradley was not so anxious, I would prefer a longer engagement,” she said. She allowed a tremulous smile to play on her lips as she looked first at Reverend Turner, then turned to face the members of the listening congregation. And, most importantly, Andrew. “I would like the opportunity to celebrate with friends and to adjust to this momentous decision I have made.”
Mr. Turner nodded emphatically and the hum from the crowd grew louder. She saw several influential women nod as well. One of them was Franny Hodder. As the wife of a confirmed Tory and the sister of Andrew’s dear friend Ron Aiken, she was the link to both Mary Elizabeth’s parents and the man she loved. If Franny was on her side, perhaps there was hope yet.
Her father’s mouth flattened into a straight line, but it was Lady Elizabeth who responded. “Before we return to Boston, we will have a tea, for all of my daughter’s friends here in Lexington.”
The excited murmur of approval ensured George Strand couldn’t squash the suggestion of a party. Lady Elizabeth smiled cheerfully at the rapt audience. “We will begin the preparations this very afternoon.” She slipped her arm through Mary Elizabeth’s. “Come daughter. We have much to do.”
Chapter 9
He has requested the hand of my daughter in marriage and I have agreed.
George Strand’s words to the congregation echoed in Andrew’s mind all the way home. The effrontery of the man. He agreed, not Mary Elizabeth. He was choosing how she would spend the rest of her life, not Mary Elizabeth. Although it was true that she had announced that she had decided Bradley was a desirable husband.
No, she’d said that her father had convinced her he was.
He’d wanted to push his way through the crowd to where the Reverend and the Strands stood. What he would have done he wasn’t sure—punched George Strand in the nose, probably, but Mary Elizabeth’s final words had stopped him.
I would like the opportunity to celebrate with friends and to adjust to this momentous decision I have made.
Celebrate didn’t exactly fit with adjust, so there was an ambiguity in her words. Was she sending him a message?
The town’s gossip mill had informed him that Strand had kept Mary Elizabeth locked up in her room all week. She’d lost weight and her expression was strained. When she’d emerged from the church, he’d tried to catch her eye, but she had been surrounded by excited young ladies and matrons, chattering about the upcoming tea that Lady Elizabeth announced. He doubted Mary Elizabeth had made her decision freely, but he must know if her true choice was to wed him.
He had to speak with her.
The next day, it was not hard to discover what was happening at the Strand mansion. The town was buzzing with talk about the betrothal. George Strand had already relocated to Boston, presumably to meet with the future bridegroom and organize the marriage contracts. Lady Elizabeth and Mary Elizabeth would be following him in a little over a week, after the grand tea Lady Elizabeth was planning, but before then, she had accepted several invitations to visit on behalf of herself and Mary Elizabeth. These included the ladies sewing circle, a matron’s tea, and a luncheon with the wife of the Reverend Turner and the ladies of the church enhancement group.
The social gatherings would bring Mary Elizabeth into Lexington, but they were not the sort of events he would
also be invited to. What Andrew had to do was find a way to meet with Mary Elizabeth privately. Once he had her word that she truly desired marriage with him and understood all it would entail, he would put his plan into action.
There were some problems with this scheme. First, his current plan hinged on taking Mary Elizabeth to New York. He hadn’t yet received a letter from his sister, so he couldn’t be sure she would harbor them if he and Mary Elizabeth escaped there. He also had no idea how he would get them both to New York. He could, he supposed spirit her away to another town and prevail upon the minister there to marry them, but he doubted anyone would be willing to act so precipitously. To wed, the banns must be read in the church, in the presence of the congregation, three times on successive Sundays. The purpose was to allow anyone who disputed the right of the betrothed couple to wed to make their concerns known. Exceptions happened, of course, but only if there were strong reasons for them. Andrew didn’t think eloping was one of them.
Then there was his concern about disrupting the timeline. He knew from his visits to Faith and her family that he was to wed Mary Elizabeth in New York. If he altered that action, what would happen to the future? Everyone who was a Beacon or a Traveler knew that maintaining the timeline was of paramount importance and he was loathe to be the one who broke that rule.
So, he must find a way to transport Mary Elizabeth to New York City. He just didn’t know how.
His first break came when he was at the tavern pondering his situation over a glass of ale.
Ron Aiken entered the establishment and sat at Andrew’s table. “A word in your ear, Byrne.”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. Ron was often stealthy in his way of phrasing things. He was a dyed-in-the-wool rebel and he was all too aware that should he be arrested, the authorities would not go easy on him.
The serving wench came by and he ordered a pint. While he waited for it to arrive, he talked about the weather, the state of the crops, and the outrageous cost of the farrier. The girl brought his beverage. He flashed her a big smile and dropped extra coins in her hand. She knew what that meant. He wanted privacy. She wouldn’t be back until he flagged her, even if his tankard was empty.
