Promise of the Valley

by Jane Peart

  "I don't know."

  The words, stated baldly, hung there between them. Rex looked at her so steadily Addie felt absorbed by his demanding gaze.

  "Are you going to marry Louis Montand?"

  "No! Of course not. What makes you think that?"

  She saw Rex struggle for a minute, then he said, "May I speak very frankly?"

  "Of course."

  "Please don't be offended by what I'm going to say."

  "Why should I be offended?"

  "What I'm about to say may seem inappropriate at this particular time. But... the fact is, I love you, Addie. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. I would have told you that day in the mountains, the day we spent with the Bairds, but I was afraid it was too soon, that I would put you off. I thought we would have time . . . so that you would get to know me, that I could somehow prove my love...."He came toward her, reached for her hands, captured and held them. "I longed to tell you. Even the very next day I wrote you—poured out my heart on paper—how I felt, what I hoped, what I dreamed for us."

  "I never got it," she stammered.

  "I never sent it. I tore it up. I thought it was too sentimental, that you might think it silly. After all, I'm a grown man not a schoolboy. I started out to Silver Springs to see you, planned to tell you—I don't know how many times after the day of the picnic. Then I turned around and came back. I've never felt this way before and I didn't know exactly how to handle all that I was feeling." He smiled ruefully. "I guess I was acting like a lovesick boy. Anyway, that next Thursday I got courage up enough to come and I was told—your employer took great pleasure in telling me—that you had driven out with Montand. She implied that you were engaged."

  Addie's eyes widened, recalling Mrs. Amberly's ambiguity about Louis's interest in her.

  "Then, that same week I found out about Montand's hiring Chinese coolies, importing them into the valley in boxcars. I was furious. So inhumane. I was determined to confront Montand. That very night I rode out to his place, but they told me he was in town, at Silver Springs. Do you remember the night I came to the hotel?"

  "Yes, it was awful. I was frightened."

  "I know you must have wondered at my behavior. But I was so angry I could not trust myself." Rex paused. "Remember he suggested we talk in the Gentlemen's Lounge? That's when he told me he did not want to have any discussion in front of you—his fiancée! He said that since you would be living at his home, he did not want you upset. After your year's contract with Mrs. Amberly was over you two were to be married."

  "That's not true!"

  "I believed him. What else could I do?" He added scornfully, "A gentleman's word. After that, I did not feel I had the right to see you again."

  Addie searched his face. Of course, he was telling the truth. It was like Mrs. Amberly to play the spoiler, and it was like Louis to make a possibility into a fact. There was no disputing the honesty in Rex's eyes. Addie's heart melted to see something else in Rex's eyes. He loved her! That too was the truth.

  Suddenly it seemed so right that Rex should love her—there was something so beautiful and natural about it—and that she in turn should return that love. All the misunderstanding, the hurt, the sadness she had felt at what she thought lost had now faded. Now she understood.

  "I'm sorry. It's all been a mistake."

  Rex took both her hands and drew her up out of the chair, close to him, placed her arms around his waist, saying, "Well, it's over. Now you know I love you, Addie. I've loved you from the first day I saw you—remember at the depot the day you came in on the train?"

  "Yes." It had been impossible to forget.

  "Will you marry me, Addie?"

  "Marry you?"

  "Yes. Will you?"

  She searched his eager face, the eyes beseeching hers. Was this truly love she felt, or was it gratitude? What Rex was offering was a chance out of all her pressing difficulties. She wanted to be sure, had to be sure. Rexford Lyon was a man of honor and integrity with whom there could be no falsehood. Could she be sure of her own heart?

  "Addie? You do care for me, too, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes, but I don't want you to marry me just to—rescue me."

  He threw back his head and laughed. "Rescue you? No, you are the one who'll rescue me from loneliness, emptiness, from terrible despair. Oh, Addie, I love you so very much. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, trying to make you happy—please give me a chance to do that."

  Then he leaned his head down, brushed her lips with his and began kissing her slowly with infinite tenderness. Although Addie was considered tall for a woman, she had to raise herself on tip-toe so he could kiss her again. This time the kiss was deep, lingering. Her response had a spontaneity Rex found incredibly sweet.

  When his lips finally left hers, she was breathless, slightly dizzy. He steadied her, smiling down at her, happiness transforming his face. He was about to say something when they both heard voices in the hall: Freda's raised in questioning, Elena's softer tones replying. They broke apart, and Rex moved over to the bow window and looked out. Addie automatically smoothed her hair. Her hand moved to her collar, straightening it, as Freda entered the room. "Ah, there you two are! Rex, I saw your horse as I came up from the vineyards. I'm so glad to see you. We must talk, make some decisions about what Addie is to do. I've asked Elena to bring coffee."

  Addie's hands nervously made small pleats in her skirt. She hoped Freda would not guess what she had almost walked in upon. Addie glanced over at Rex wondering if he would say anything. But he turned to Freda showing no outward sign of what had just taken place between them.

  "I have told Addie she must stay here until she makes further plans. She has left Mrs. Amberly's employ." Freda tactfully omitted the fact that she had been summarily dismissed. "I don't want her to leave the valley just when we have become friends. So we shall try to find some way for her to stay here. At least for a while."

  Addie held her breath wondering if now Rex would blurt what he wanted Addie to do. If he had been about to, he was delayed by Elena's entrance with a tray on which were coffee service, cups, and a plate of honey and walnut squares. The next few minutes were occupied with Freda filling cups, passing them around, and offering the cakes.

  Addie realized Rex was allowing her the privilege of confiding his proposal to Freda or not. But how could she? She had not given him an answer except her kiss. She needed time to search her own heart, her motives.

  "For the time, I think Addie should remain with me," Freda said. "Things must be chaotic at Silver Springs with Stanton out of town—and under suspicion of being Gentleman Jim. I still can hardly believe it's true."

  Addie made no answer. Knowing Brook's note to her was all the evidence anyone would need to prove whether or not he was the stagecoach robber. Still she could not turn it over to the authorities. Didn't they already have all the proof they seemed to consider necessary to arrest him?

  Rex did not add any suggestion nor offer any solution to Addie's dilemma. She knew he was waiting for her to say something. Finally he set down his cup and stood up. "I must be going, ladies," he said. "I'd be pleased if you would come and dine with me tomorrow evening." He glanced at Addie. "Since Miss Pride has never been to Lyon's Court, Freda, I'd like very much to show it to her."

  "What a splendid idea!" Freda said enthusiastically. "Addie could ride over early, and you could show her around, then I could join you both later for dinner."

  Addie realized she was in the presence of two strong-minded people used to taking charge—something, that at the moment, she seemed unable to do. So it was arranged that the following afternoon Rex would ride over and escort Addie to Lyon's Court.

  After Rex had ridden off, Freda turned to Addie. "What a fine man he is. If you only knew what a personal sacrifice it was for him to give up his own dreams and come back to the valley and take over his family's ranch, the vineyards, and winery. I've never known a more honest man than Rexford Lyon."

&
nbsp; She gave Addie a knowing look that made her wonder just how much Freda knew or suspected. Had Rex ever confided to his friend the feelings he had just confessed to her?. The new happiness that filled her tempted Addie to confide in Freda. But something else made her want to keep it to herself a little longer.

  Freda said, "I think Fiddle, my own mare, would be perfect for you to ride tomorrow. Do you have something you can wear? No, that's right, your things haven't been sent out yet from the hotel." Freda frowned. "I wonder if that old harpy is responsible for that? Well, never mind you can borrow one of my riding skirts."

  Freda bustled away to talk to Elena and see about some household matters, and Addie went back upstairs to the guest room. She needed time alone to think. Rex's explanation of his apparent loss of interest in her—followed by his proposal—both excited and bewildered her.

  She felt riled at Louis's arrogant assertion that they were engaged. And Mrs. Amberly's insinuations. Of course what else could she expect of someone who found it easier to lie than tell the truth?

  But could she trust her own emotions in this matter? She knew Rex had awakened a physical response that was like a flame within her. But she needed to examine one thing: was this enough? Feelings could alter, passion could fade, was there enough there between them to make for a love that would endure? Was there strength, honesty, compassion and mutual goals to last a lifetime? Or was what Rex offered just the rescue she had hoped for, prayed for?

  The next day Addie's trunk had still not arrived from Silver Springs. Incensed, Freda sent Manuel in to town to find out why Addie's request had not been complied with. Addie began to give some credence to Freda's suspicion that Mrs. Amberly was behind the delay. But since this was the evening she and Freda were dining at Lyon's Court, she put aside that troubling thought for the moment. The prospect that she might have to once again confront Mrs. Amberly was not at all appealing.

  Rex was coming in the early afternoon for Addie, and Freda would join them later for dinner. Addie knew he wanted to show the vineyards, his land, the house, because he wanted her one day to live there. The thought both thrilled her and frightened her a little. Now that all she had longed for, dreamed of, was within her reach, all sorts of doubts and uncertainties assailed her.

  Waiting downstairs for him to arrive, she felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She went frequently to the front door to look down the road and checked her appearance in the hall mirror several times. She had borrowed one of Freda's riding skirts and a patterned blouse with "leg-o-mutton" sleeves and a Byron collar. She took one of several wide-brimmed felt "cowpuncher's" hats hanging on the hat tree by the door to shield her from the sun.

  But the minute Rex came into sight, she felt an unmistakable heart-soaring joy. Maybe this really was it!

  Rex had brought Gracia, his mother's horse, again for her to ride, and as he helped Addie mount and placed the reins gently into her hands, she felt again the special significance of it. She hardly dared meet his eyes, almost afraid of what she would see there, or perhaps that he would read what must be shining in her own.

  They rode side by side down the road lined with towering cypress trees and came at last to the tall, scrolled iron gate with its arched sign:LYON'S COURT. They passed through it and up a winding drive under a canopy made by the crossed branches of the oaks. Rounding a bend, Addie had her first glimpse of Rex's ancestral home. It was a castlelike structure with turrets built of gray stone, but the afternoon sun upon it cast its light, tinting it bronze and giving the latticed windows a jewel-like brilliance.

  Addie felt Rex's glance as if he were watching her reaction, waiting for her response.

  "It's beautiful," she murmured. But it was so much more. It was breathtaking. It looked like a castle that might have been literally moved from a jutting cliff overlooking the Rhine River of Germany, or taken from a lush valley of France's own grape-growing area. Actually, that was probably more accurate. Rex's family, he had told her, were originally French, and after emigrating to England then coming to American they had anglicized their name from Deleon to Lyon.

  "First, I'll show you the orchards and vineyards, the aging cellars—give you a tour of the entire place, explain the whole process so you can get some idea of what it is all about. Then we'll come back here—sit on the terrace, watch the sunset." He paused. "Would you like that?"

  "Yes, very much."

  Addie took in everything. She listened carefully to everything Rex explained and pointed out to her. She wanted to see it through his eyes, to understand his family's heritage, to appreciate its prestige. Lyon's Court was one of the most highly regarded vineyards in the valley, producing the finest wine grapes.

  She admired the fact that although it had not been his desire to do so, Rex had honorably taken up the standard from his fallen brother. He was committed to carrying on the tradition his ancestors began. Implied was the hope that she would share it with him, unspoken was the feeling that unless she did, it would be an almost unbearable burden.

  As the afternoon shadows lengthened, they rode back to the house. In front of the house Rex dismounted, came around, and lifted Addie down, his hands circling her waist lingering for a moment. As if summoned by some silent cue, a smiling stable boy appeared and, catching the reins of both horses Rex tossed to him, took their horses to the barn.

  "Shall we go inside?" Rex asked, holding out his hand to Addie. She gave hers to him and they went up the shallow stone steps together.

  As they approached the massive oak door Addie halted to study the stone coat of arms above it. A shield divided into four sections, on two of which were sculptured lunging lions, on the other two clusters of grapes, and on the curved bar across the top were the French words which she could translate to read, "ABOVE ALL HONOR, FAMILY, TRUTH."

  "Quite a lot to live up to," Rex remarked ruefully.

  "Somehow, I feel you do," she answered quietly.

  "Thank you. I try."

  For a breathless moment they stood looking into each other's eyes. It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to say more than words possibly could.

  Then Rex opened the door with its brass lion's head knocker, pushed it back, and turned to Addie with a hint of mischief in his smile.

  "I would like to carry you over the threshold. But perhaps I am too optimistic? Am I? Have you thought of what I asked you yesterday?"

  "Of course, I've thought of little else," she answered truthfully. "But there is much to be considered, discussed before any such—"

  "Don't tell me you want a contract?"

  "No contracts! I've had my fill of contracts," she held up both hands in horror.

  He pushed the door open wider so she could pass through. "Then I must use my best persuasive abilities. 'Come, let us reason together,'" he said, gesturing her to enter.

  "Are you trying to impress me by quoting Scripture?"

  "Whatever it takes," he smiled.

  He led her through the high-ceilinged foyer, through the library, and out onto the terrace that overlooked the acres of vineyards. It was still warm and the air was soft.

  "It's so warm and the evening promises to be mild, I thought we could dine out here."

  On the terrace a table had been set with an embroidered cloth, a bowl of flowers, candles in glass hurricane lamps, and handsome silver. Crystal goblets gleamed in the rays of the slanting sun. A bottle of wine was chilling in a chased silver bucket.

  "Yes, that would be lovely." Addie said moving over to the balustrade and looking out at the magnificent view.

  The sun was beginning to set; orange, purple, pink ribbons streaked the clouds hovering above the hills.

  Watching her, Rex thought how this light gave Addie's face a special radiance; a kind of golden glow touched her skin and the dark cloud of her hair. His throat constricted. Not only was the woman he loved beautiful, she had wit, courage, and honesty. Did he dare hope?

  His hands shook a little as he lifted the chilled bottle from its nest
of ice. "Let's have a glass of Lyon's Court's best?" He filled two glasses holding a sparkling rose wine. He raised his glass first, then touching the rim of hers, they each took a sip. "To us!"

  His eyes caressed her. "I love you, Addie," he said quietly. "Please say you've decided to marry me."

  "Oh, if it were only that simple," she sighed, shaking her head.

  "It can be. All you have to do is say yes."

  He set down his glass and came over to her. She allowed herself to be drawn into his arms. She leaned against him, a feeling of warmth, comfort, and safety swept over her. She knew if she surrendered to it, she would no longer be able to think rationally. Instead she would be lost, drowned in this new, exquisite ecstasy.

  "No, Rex, wait, we mustn't." Trying to still her seesawing heart, she pushed him gently away.

  "Oh, Addie, why do you keep denying what we both know and feel?" he demanded. "Something happened to me the moment I saw you—and it happened to you too, I know. Why won't you admit what we both sensed from the very beginning?"

  "Because—because, it doesn't make sense. It isn't real and I don't think you make a decision as important as marriage on feelings."

  "Don't be afraid of feelings, Addie; they are more real than anything else. I know I love you...."

  He moved to take her in his arms again, and this time she did not resist.

  Later that night, back at Freda's, Addie found sleep out of the question. Why, why was it so hard for her to give Rex the answer he wanted so much?

  Did she think she didn't deserve what he was offering? Was it too much like an escape? Was it because she knew there was unfinished business for her to settle? Things she must do herself? Was it pride holding her back from accepting his protection, the security of his love, the prestige of his name?

  She had always been told pride was her "besetting sin," and she had been warned that it would always cause her the most grief, the most trouble, get her into the worst situations. Suddenly she saw the truth about herself. Addie realized she had exhibited some of the worst, most despicable traits of pride in her relation to Mrs. Amberly. There was no question that she had looked down on her, disdained her, considered herself superior. The fact that these were under the surface, and no one else knew about them, was no excuse. Until now, she had never admitted it even to herself.