Time After Time

by Elizabeth Boyce

  When Jonathon opened the door and stepped out, the woman jumped into his arms laughing gaily. She had the same warm, brown eyes and thick lustrous brown hair as his, although hers gleamed with auburn highlights. She resembled Jonathon, but her features were delicate, her movements graceful. The man with her shook Jonathon’s hand, and then pulled him close and embraced him, patting him heartily on the back. Then they all turned expectantly toward the carriage.

  Andrew hopped out first; Jonathon reached up to assist Emily. As she emerged from the coach, she heard the woman gasp softly.

  “Joanna, David — may I introduce the newest members of our family: Andrew and Emily Wentworth.”

  Joanna’s eyes revealed a mixture of surprise and amusement. She held out her hand with David’s and said warmly, “Welcome to Brentwood Manor.” Then, a bit hesitantly, she handed a parcel to Emily and said, “We have a gift for you.” David handed a parcel to Andrew.

  Emily and Andrew unwrapped their gifts; there was a moment of absolute silence.

  In her hands Emily held a beautiful doll with a china head and a watered silk dress. Andrew held a hand-carved sailboat. Emily’s eyes rose to meet Joanna’s; she did not know quite what to say. Joanna’s mouth turned up in a half-smile.

  “We were expecting you both to be quite a bit younger,” she grinned.

  In that moment everyone burst out laughing and the tension was broken. Joanna hooked an arm through Emily’s.

  “Come in, you all must be exhausted and hungry,” she said, and the ladies led the way in.

  Their shoes echoed on the highly polished hardwood floor as they entered a high-ceilinged, airy hall. Turning right they came to the parlor. Flowered wallpaper of soft blue and white decorated the walls above the dwarf wainscoting, and Scotch carpet gathered the furniture cozily about the room. A beautiful bronze-skinned servant brought in a tray of tall, cool drinks and sweet cakes and set it on a mahogany drop-leaf table beside Joanna. Emily sat on the settee holding the doll in her lap.

  “I am so sorry about your father’s death. Jonathon has told us what a wonderful man George Wentworth was,” David said kindly.

  “Thank you,” Andrew replied.

  “From Jonathon’s letter, we were expecting children,” Joanna explained, giving her brother a slight frown, betrayed by the twinkle in her eyes.

  “Oh, the doll is beautiful, and I shall always cherish it,” Emily smiled.

  “And the boat is carved splendidly. I would like to learn that craft myself,” Andrew added.

  “David did that, Andrew. I am sure he would be happy to teach you,” Joanna replied. “Now, how was your voyage?”

  They spent an amiable afternoon getting acquainted, and all the doubts and fears Emily had wrestled with melted under the warm and sincere friendship of Joanna and David. She began to relax and found herself enjoying the conversation. Finally Joanna rose and offered to show them to their rooms.

  They ascended the broad staircase in the central hall and turned to the right. Emily’s room was spacious and cheerful, decorated in dusty rose and cream. The canopy bed curtains and window curtains were of rose chintz with darker rose brocade drapes pulled back on either side of the windows. An ivory bedspread decorated with crewelwork done in dusty rose and deeper pink lay across the four–poster bed, and a fireplace with a carved marble mantel matching the one in the parlor faced it. Emily’s things had already been put away and Joanna left her to freshen for supper.

  Emily sat on the bed and looked around her new room, in her new home. She thought she should be feeling terribly lonely and resentful right now, but instead there was a tickle of anticipation that one would expect to feel when setting out on an adventure. She tried to conjure up loneliness and resentment, but contentment, even excitement, kept beating them down. David and Joanna were warm and welcoming, and she was afraid she would enjoy all this too readily.

  She could not let Jonathon win that easily.

  • • •

  With the exception of trying to acclimate to the heat and humidity, Andrew and Emily slipped easily into the routine of Brentwood Manor. Emily loved to walk through the vast, manicured gardens. They matched the symmetrical design of the house, rectangular plots bordered by straight walks. Dogwoods, magnolias, and boxwood filled the garden, and azaleas and roses bloomed gaily, lending a heady scent to the air. Emily even enjoyed visiting the kitchen garden near the outbuildings behind the manor, where the invigorating smells of rosemary, chives, and sage vied for attention. These outbuildings housed the kitchen, blacksmith, meat house, stables, and other services necessary to the running of a vast plantation.

  On Sunday morning they rode to the small, nearby church that served the local plantations. The beauty of the land again caught Emily. Jonathon did not exaggerate when he had described it to her. Lush fields billowed out to the horizon along the road, and then gave way to thick forests that shaded their drive. The air was dense with summer dew, and Emily inhaled deeply to savor it. Jonathon had been watching her, and he smiled with delight when he caught her eye. Emily shifted in her seat and tried to appear unaffected by the wonder of his land.

  It caused quite a stir in the church when Jonathon arrived with Emily on his arm. Heads turned then bent to a neighbor while whispered speculation ensued. Emily tried nervously to ignore the stares and whispers, and Jonathon squeezed her arm reassuringly.

  As they approached the pew that David and Joanna were entering, Emily caught the cold, flinty glare of a woman seated just across the aisle. The woman’s gaze was so odious that Emily started and quickly looked at Jonathon who gave the woman a nod and a cool smile.

  Throughout the service Emily was aware of many eyes upon her, but the eyes that had glared from across the aisle were burned into her mind.

  As they left the church, people came up to welcome Emily and Andrew to Virginia. There was surprise on many faces when Jonathon introduced them as his wards. As Emily was chatting, she noticed the woman who had glared at her approaching. She was tall and slender and carried herself regally. Her golden hair was swept up away from her beautiful face, and she was dressed in a yellow linen gown that accented her shapely figure. She made an exquisite picture.

  “Welcome home, Jonathon,” she said in a sultry voice. Her lovely green eyes looked deeply into his, then she turned them on Emily, disguising the loathing she had betrayed earlier. “And whom do we have here?” she purred.

  “Deidre, may I present Andrew and Emily Wentworth, my wards. This is Deidre Manning,” he said to them.

  Deidre’s eyes widened in shock. Quickly recovering, she laughed softly and said, “Come now, Jonathon, are you becoming domestic after all these years?” She turned sea-green eyes upon him again.

  “Their father was my good friend; he died at sea. It was an agreement we made long ago.” He turned to the others, “Well, shall we return to Brentwood Manor for one of Dora’s delicious Sunday afternoon feasts?” Catching Deidre’s eye he added, almost reluctantly, “Would you care to join us, Deidre?”

  “Why, thank you, Jonathon. That would be lovely.” She took his arm before he could offer it to Emily, and they led the others to the waiting carriages.

  • • •

  Dinner was indeed a feast. The aroma of freshly baked bread met them as they entered the dining room. After they were seated, Dora brought out plates overflowing with ham, sausage and meat pies still steaming from the oven. Bowls of fresh fruit, roasted vegetables, sauces, and pickles lined the table. When they finished the first course, apple fritters and raspberry tarts completed the repast.

  After dinner they relaxed all afternoon on the veranda. The evening breeze was a welcome relief to the day’s heat. The sweet smells from the garden wafted over them in an intoxicating aroma and the stillness signaled the approach of night.

  “The House of Burgesses is getting restless,” Jon
athon told David. “They resent Parliament’s interference and are ready to act upon it.” He chuckled, “I heard the day of fasting and prayer proposed by the Burgesses was quite a sight; people marching to Bruton Church from all over to show their sympathy and support for the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Closing the Port of Boston in retaliation for their ‘tea party’ was a dire mistake by Parliament. It will serve only to unite the colonies and that is the last thing England wants.”

  “The northern colonies are far more restless than Virginia,” David replied. “Some of them are talking about independence — ”

  Emily gasped, “Independence from England?” It seemed unbelievable to her.

  “Well, Virginia has not gone that far … yet,” Jonathon replied slowly. “But Parliament is pushing us to the limit of our endurance.” He turned to Emily. “We do not want to separate from the Crown, Em, but Parliament is forcing unacceptable legislation upon us. They are denying basic British rights to us here in America. And Parliament meddles — ”

  “‘Parliament meddles!’ This sounds like treason to me, Captain Brentwood,” she cried indignantly. “If I had known I was being thrust into a hotbed of sedition, I would never have left England.”

  “And Mrs. Dennings would be nodding heartily in agreement with your damnation of these loathsome colonies,” he retorted.

  Emily bit back a curt reply and Deidre smiled smugly at the exchange. Everyone sat in embarrassed silence for a moment and then Deidre rose.

  “Jonathon, darling, would you escort me home?” she asked sweetly.

  “Of course,” he answered, rising.

  Deidre’s carriage was brought around with Jonathon’s horse tethered to it. The couple walked arm in arm down the path and climbed into the carriage. Emily felt a knot in her stomach as Deidre’s laughter floated back to them. She watched the carriage roll down the drive, then turning, found Joanna’s eyes upon her.

  “It must be very difficult for you to hear such talk about your beloved England,” she said sympathetically. “We should be more sensitive. Forgive us, Emily.”

  “Yes, Emily, please forgive us,” David added. “But we love Virginia as you do England, and we want to be masters of our own destiny. There is restlessness throughout the colony. People are tired of mercantilism and unfair laws. It seems the more we chafe, the more Parliament suppresses us — ” He fell silent at a look at Joanna.

  “Who is Mrs. Dennings?” Joanna asked, trying to ease the tension.

  “She might have been my mother-in-law,” Emily said in a tight voice as she rose. “Excuse me, I think I shall retire.”

  • • •

  Emily lay awake long into the night listening for Jonathon’s return. The moon was high in the early morning sky when she heard the hoofbeats come up the drive and the sound of Jonathon’s whistling. She buried her face in her pillow and cried, not really understanding why.

  Chapter 4

  Jonathon was away for two weeks on a brief voyage north to Manhattan Island. Emily did not want to admit to herself that she missed him, but as the days went on, she realized how accustomed she had grown to his presence. She found herself walking aimlessly through the gardens or staring blankly at the pages of a book, and an empty place nagged at her heart. He returned in the midst of the hottest week of the summer. Andrew and Emily suffered in the oppressive heat and felt listless. In the mornings, Emily kept activities light and effortless, and in the afternoons she often slept. The days ran together in an endless, scorching blur.

  The house was wrapped in the stillness of a sultry afternoon. Emily stripped to a light, sleeveless cotton shift and lay on her bed avoiding movement that would make her hotter still. The stifling room, darkened by drawn drapes, became unbearable after a time, so she rose and looked reluctantly at the white blouse and pale green skirt she had discarded earlier.

  Moaning, she slipped into her clothes and fastened her blouse quickly. Finding her shoes where she had kicked them lazily into a corner, she slid them on and hurried from the house.

  It was an effort to breathe the heavy, humid air as she made her way to the stable. Shadow, a black mare she enjoyed riding, seemed as reluctant as Emily to exert any energy on such a sweltering day. Emily did not have the heart to put a saddle on the horse and daringly decided to ride her bareback. Shadow responded slowly to Emily’s nudge, and they ambled off to the river and rode along its bank for a time. There was no breeze to disturb the leaves, and the countryside seemed to be in a state of suspended animation. Shadow and Emily caused the only stirring in the picturesque landscape, and their pace was appropriately languid.

  A stream branched off from the river and led into a copse of invitingly shady trees. Emily turned her mount toward it, and they entered a silent cathedral of towering oaks. The shade was cooler, and the water gurgled over smooth, mossy stones. Emily slipped off Shadow, walked to the stream and let the clear water wash over her fingers. The coolness of her retreat was a fleeting relief from her ride in the sunshine, for in here, too, the air was still and hot and heavy.

  Emily kicked off her shoes, rolled off her stockings, and stuffed them into her shoes. She pulled the back of her skirt up between her legs, tucked it in at her waist, and then tiptoed into the stream. The icy water caused her to catch her breath, and the stones wobbled beneath her feet as she walked along, smiling in ecstasy. She bent and swished her hands in the water, then cupping them, splashed her face. The water ran in rivulets down her neck. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and soaked it, then lifting her long, thick curls, ran the wet cloth across the back of her neck. Wetting the cloth again, she unbuttoned her blouse to a daring depth and patted her handkerchief along her neck, throat, and down across her breasts. The cold water was invigorating, and Emily skipped along in the stream singing merrily.

  “I have heard tales of sea nymphs, but I never thought to find one so far inland.”

  Emily froze. Slowly she turned, and looking up, she saw Jonathon standing near Shadow, a grin covering his face.

  “I did not know you had added voyeur to your list of virtues, Captain,” Emily tossed at him, too hot to care about her appearance. She continued her ritual with the handkerchief and ignored his presence.

  “That looks quite refreshing,” he laughed, and stooping, removed his boots and stockings. He doffed his shirt and, clothed only in his breeches, joined her in the stream. He cupped his hands and poured the water over the top of his head several times. Reaching up the last time, he accidentally splashed Emily as she danced by.

  “Well!” she cried and devilishly splashed him back.

  “Oh, a battle, eh?” Jonathon laughed and, cupping his hands along the surface of the water, soaked her with a wide spray.

  Laughing, dodging and attacking, they circled trying to outdo one another. Jonathon’s hair hung down his neck in a dripping queue as he stealthily stalked Emily. She stepped away, laughing as she tried to catch her breath. Her wet hair hung down her back in honey-colored ringlets and her blouse clung to shapely breasts that swayed and bounced enticingly. Drops of water glistened on her creamy white skin and Jonathon’s gaze was drawn to the deep cleavage revealed by her still-unbuttoned blouse. She was unaware of the lovely picture she made, concentrating only on her prey.

  “Aha!” Jonathon yelled as he lunged at her and, missing, fell into the water. Emily sidestepped him deftly, laughing gaily, but she slipped on a mossy rock and lost her balance. Reaching up to break her fall, Jonathon grabbed for her waist, but she could not recover her balance and tumbled in beside him. They sat in the icy water laughing heartily, his arm still around her waist. Emily glanced up meeting his eyes and a tremor of excitement rushed through her. Did his arm tighten around her waist?

  “Well, we thought we heard children and we were right,” Deidre’s voice rang out cynically.

  The water-soaked couple looked up to see Deidre an
d Randy perched high above them on their mounts. Randy was grinning broadly, enjoying the delicious view Emily provided. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his hair stuck to his neck and forehead. Deidre looked flushed and wilted, perspiration beading on her face, her riding suit damp at the armpits and back — a stark contrast to the cool, refreshed, and sparsely clad Emily.

  “Join us for a swim?” Jonathon offered.

  Randy appeared ready to dismount, but Deidre grabbed his reins.

  “Randolph, we are here for tea, remember?” she asked.

  “Yes, Deidre dear, but our host is presently away from the manor and is showing a good deal more sense than we, as is his lovely lady.”

  Emily blushed at that reference.

  “Our host and his ward,” she stressed the word, “are acting like children, which is appropriate for one, since it is so, but not for the other,” she returned haughtily.

  Randy looked appreciatively at Emily who was rising from the water with Jonathon’s assistance.

  “Perhaps I am blind, Deidre, but I do not see a single child down there,” Randy replied, gesturing toward the stream. Jonathon nodded in agreement; watching while Emily attempted to discreetly button her blouse.

  Deidre swung her horse around angrily and galloped off toward the house. Randy laughed and jumped from his horse.

  “Do not leave yet. I have missed all the fun.”

  So they gave him a proper soaking and afterward lay on the grass to dry off. Rolling toward Emily, Jonathon propped his head on one hand. Emily’s hair tumbled wildly about her on the grass and her cheeks were pink from her ride in the sun. Her bosom rose and fell gently with her breathing and she turned luminous blue eyes toward him. Jonathon wished Randy had not stayed — and, at the same time, was immensely grateful that he had.

  Similar thoughts ran through Emily’s mind as she looked up into gently laughing brown eyes.