“Jonathon — ” she began but her throat hurt too much to continue.
Jonathon saw the tears streaming down her face, heard the pain in her voice. He wanted to go to her but was still uncertain of her feelings for him. She had called him a traitor, and the sting of that word still held. He understood her anger, torn loyalties, and confusion. But his convictions held, too, and he could not relinquish them. He was torn also, for his beloved Emily hurt, and yet she did not seem to want his comfort.
“Emily, what can I do for you?” he asked gently.
“Jonathon, I am so frightened,” she sobbed.
He rose and slowly went around the table to where she sat. Tentatively he placed a hand on her shoulder and patted it. He felt awkward and, for the first time in his life, at a loss for how to treat a woman.
He knelt beside her, one arm across the back of her chair, as she continued weeping. The strain of the last few months was apparent in her face. Gently, Jonathon reached up and held her face in his hands. He brushed the tears from her cheeks.
“Em, I am sorry that you hurt so badly.”
She raised her eyes to his, they glistened, but she smiled through the tears.
“Jonathon, I am so glad you are here,” she cried and threw her arms around his neck. His arms wrapped around her eagerly, and she dissolved into tears of relief, confusion, and fear. They held each other close, able to comfort, able to support, but unable to compromise.
Emily’s sobs began to subside. Her face was still buried in Jonathon’s shoulder. His hands caressed her back and ran through her hair. He whispered reassurances softly and pressed his lips against her temple. Emily wished they could remain like this forever — just lock out the world with its wars and suffering and insulate themselves in this moment. She knew better.
Reluctantly she pulled away, noting every detail of his face, his eyes, his hair, committing each to memory for a time soon when she would not see them. Perhaps forever.
Jonathon smiled softly at her and brushed a lock of hair from her eyes.
“My sweet Em,” he whispered.
It forced an answering smile from Emily. She touched his lips and brushed his hair back.
“Jonathon, I am so frightened for you. It will be very dangerous for you to transport us. How will you — ”
“I shall have no trouble in Yorktown, Em. My ship is familiar there, and my friends are many. James will obtain the necessary papers for me to sail into Norfolk. There could be trouble there, but his influence should ease our arrival. From there we shall head out to open sea. I shall be unable to put in at London; I have a friend who will assist me and take you safely to your home.”
The last word caught in his throat and fell on the air like a dead weight. It sounded discordant to Emily and she stiffened.
“Jonathon — ” she cried.
“I thought I could make you love Virginia as I do, Em. I was wrong to try to force you. I wanted to share what makes me happy with you so it would bring you happiness, too. But it does not make you happy. I have taken you away from what does, and I am sorry,” he said.
“Jonathon, my love, I have never known such happiness in my life as you have brought me. I am proud to be your wife, proud to be mistress of Brentwood Manor. Virginia is everything you promised and more, and I have begun to love it as my own. I cannot lie to you and say I support the patriots’ cause — I do not. But I love you, Jonathon. I cannot be an ocean apart from you; I want to stay here with you. Perhaps there will yet be resolution — some kind of merging of patriot demands with British loyalty. And our child can be one of the first born in this new era.”
Emily had not quite meant to break the news like that, but she had become so absorbed in the excitement of the moment that she blurted it out.
“Emily, there is not much hope right now of — ” Jonathon stopped in mid-sentence. He blinked a couple of times as her words sunk in. He looked into her eyes. “Our … our … child?” he stammered. “Emily?”
She nodded, breaking into a wide grin.
“Our child!” he shouted gleefully.
“Shhh, Jonathon. Martha is resting,” Emily scolded. But he scooped her up in his arms and twirled her around three times.
“Oh, sir, how cruel you are!” she gasped. “My breakfast will have no chance to stay put if you continue.”
Jonathon stopped and laughed. “Forgive me, Em, but you have made me the happiest man in the world.” He danced lightly and set her down on her chair. He threw his head back and laughed again.
“A child, our child! Oh, Em.” Tears glistened in his eyes, and he leaned forward and tenderly kissed her.
“I would like to pursue that, but perhaps the dining room is not the place,” he whispered.
“I believe in celebrating life’s important events, sir. Perhaps we should retire upstairs and discuss possible ways of doing so,” Emily suggested, a devilish twinkle in her eye.
And so the impending birth of the newest Brentwood was fittingly celebrated.
Chapter 10
The brisk November wind whistled around the house and rattled the windowpanes. But the sun streamed in across the bed where Emily lay nestled against Jonathon. They lay half dozing; rousing only to touch and reassure themselves it was not a dream. Months of separation resulted in lovemaking that was passionate, almost fierce, in its demand to fill up the emptiness, the loneliness of that span of time spent apart.
Now they lay drowsing, but never asleep, never unaware of the other. Emily’s head rested on Jonathon’s shoulder, her leg thrown over his. Her fingers slowly worked through the hair on his chest while he soaked in the silkiness of her skin. Every so often he traced the curve of her belly, just a little fuller than usual. Each time he smiled, once he almost laughed aloud. He was full of questions: How did she feel? When did she know? When was their child’s birth expected? When would he be able to feel it move? Emily laughed joyfully at his excited curiosity and answered each question with equal happiness.
Jonathon rolled Emily onto her back and kissed her long and full.
“Excuse me a minute, love,” he said playfully. “I must speak with someone.”
He kissed her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts and reached her belly. He covered it with kisses and then addressed it.
“Good day in there. I am your father. Yes, I am a tall, strapping man, quite handsome, most virile. I thought we should get to know one another. Are you well? Have you any idea how beautiful your mother is? She is a bit scrappy at times.”
Emily tapped him on the head and cried, “Well!”
“ … But she gets over it. You must be unusually comely to be born of two such handsome people. I suspect you will be quite spoiled. You must have your mother’s good looks and my sweet temperament — ”
“Oh, Jonathon,” Emily ruffled his hair, “How you exaggerate!”
Jonathon moved back up and faced her.
“No, Em, you really are beautiful,” he teased.
She grabbed a pillow and swatted him.
“Oh-ho, so you want a duel!” he laughed.
He grabbed another and lightly fought back. Their game was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Jonathon, excuse me. Mr. Gates is here,” James called.
“Duty calls, my love,” he whispered. He pressed his face in her hair, close to her ear.
“I love you, Em,” he said. “I love you so.” She caught him in her arms and pulled him close.
“I love you, too, Jonathon. I suspect these days will be difficult ones for us. We must face painful decisions and different loyalties. But one thing is sure. I do love you.”
Their kiss was long and lingering, full of things unspoken, a promise of further understanding.
“I had best go or Mr. Gates will feel terribly affronted and dreadfully j
ealous.”
Emily released him reluctantly. They rose and dressed quickly and went down to greet Mr. Gates.
• • •
Gates was delighted to see the metamorphosis that had occurred since the previous night. Both Emily and Jonathon glowed; they entered the room with their hands lightly clasped.
“You are both looking well,” he said brightly.
“Yes, well, hmmm,” Jonathon blustered. “It is amazing what a little nap will do.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Gates grinned.
“Well, what news, Gates?” Jonathon asked.
“Let me check on Mrs. Cosgrove, Jonathon, then I shall better be able to tell when we can set sail.”
Martha was more alert today, but Gates suggested she rest for a week or two while they readied the ship and loaded supplies. That would mean setting sail in the midst of the holidays. All agreed it must be so. It seemed the holidays would be marred in any event by the division between the patriots and the Tories.
The remainder of the afternoon and early evening was spent in planning their voyage. The servants had returned by afternoon, and supper was a welcome meal, heartily enjoyed by all. Mr. Gates checked on Martha before he left and said he would be by again on the next day.
James and Jonathon continued discussion of the voyage after Mr. Gates left. As they talked, Emily neglected her embroidery and stared into the fire. Finally she spoke.
“Jonathon.”
Both men looked up, startled at her voice.
“I will not sail to London,” she declared.
“What?” they exclaimed in unison.
“James and Martha must go; however, I will remain here.”
“Emily, it is no longer safe for you here,” Jonathon answered.
“I shall return to Brentwood Manor. It will be safer there — and I promise to be less vocal about my sympathies,” she argued.
Both men vigorously protested, nodding in agreement at each other, talking over one another’s reasons.
Emily rose and walked to Jonathon’ chair. Kneeling beside him, she looked up into his eyes.
“Jonathon, this morning you said your friend would take me home to London. It is no longer my home. My home is with you. I will stay here in Virginia. I cannot bear to be parted from you — so far away, so long a time. I am your wife; I will stay by your side. I can never embrace your beliefs, my love, but I want to stay with you. And our child must be born at Brentwood Manor.”
James started and looked at each in turn. The looks on their faces said it all. Of course there would be a child.
“It is precisely because of the child that you must leave,” Jonathon said softly. “We must ensure his safety.”
“Please, Jonathon — ”
“No, Emily. It must be this way. But I promise you, as soon as I am able and it is safe, I will return for you and bring you home. Your home, our home. I cannot keep alert if I am worried about you, love. Please do as I ask.”
Emily was prepared to fight him on this, but what Jonathon said made sense. He must concentrate on his mission and be alert to any danger. His safety was paramount to her.
“I shall consider it,” she said.
Jonathon knew better than to push.
• • •
David and Joanna decided to come to Williamsburg to celebrate an early Christmas with Jonathon and Emily. Jonathon was anxious for news of Brentwood Manor. He also hoped to enlist Joanna’s help in convincing Emily to sail to London.
They had not spoken of it again since Emily had announced her refusal to go. But Jonathon knew how the situation in the colonies was deteriorating — especially in the North. Concepts previously unheard of were being bandied about — individual freedom, popular sovereignty, power emanating from the people. The writings of Jefferson were awakening this infant coalition to ideas never before imagined. The price was rebellion. Jonathon knew lives were being lost; he feared for Emily and their child.
These thoughts ran through his mind as Jonathon sat in James’s study. Gates had reported that they could sail as soon as December 23. It was vital to stop in Norfolk to deliver supplies to the Sons of Liberty who were working there. This would be an incredibly dangerous stop because the city had maintained its Tory sympathies. Once they were away from Norfolk he would rest more easily.
• • •
Joanna, David, and little Will arrived in a carriage burdened with gifts and food from Brentwood Manor. Emily was the first out the door to greet them, followed by Jonathon who carried a shawl to wrap about her shoulders. The women embraced while the men shook hands and then pulled each other close for a bear hug. Emily reached for Will and gasped in surprise.
“Will, how you have grown!” she exclaimed.
The baby looked at her with wide, wondering eyes then back at his mother.
“Oh no, he does not remember me!” Emily cried.
Will shyly looked at her again. She began to sing a lullaby that she had often sung to him at the manor. He stared at her steadily then broke into a smile and bounced in her arms.
“That is my Will,” Emily laughed and they hurried inside. James joined them for tea, and once again laughter and voices filled the house.
“Well, sit down everyone. We have news,” Jonathon beamed.
“Jonathon, my love, let them get settled in,” Emily laughed.
“No, they are settled in enough,” he answered. Raising his teacup he announced. “A toast to the expected, newest member of the Brentwood family.”
“Oh, Jonathon, Emily!” Joanna cried. “How wonderful!”
She went to Emily and threw her arms around her. David pumped Jonathon’s hand.
“Are you well enough to travel, Emily?” Joanna asked.
“Oh, I feel wonderful,” Emily reassured her. “However, I am not to travel after all.”
“Emily — ” Jonathon began.
“Jonathon, I told you this before,” Emily stated firmly.
“Emily, you must go,” David interrupted. “The situation is worsening here for people sympathetic to the crown. The patriots are becoming more feverish in their cause. It is outright war in the northern colonies. It will take little time for that fervor to spread to Virginia.”
Jonathon nodded in agreement. “That episode here last month was just a taste of what may happen,” he added.
• • •
The Cosgrove home was transformed from its somber tone to one of a festive, holiday atmosphere. The excitement seemed healing for Martha. Emily and Joanna spent afternoons chatting with her in her room, and in a few days she roused enough to join them for dinner. Each day she seemed to gain strength, and Jonathon was relieved, as he had not been certain that Martha could endure the voyage to London.
Andrew joined them in the evenings for cards, and it was a happy company, although the specter of separation and danger hung over them.
One night as they played cards, plans were being discussed for the imminent voyage. Emily’s heart sank as it always did at this subject. How could she leave Jonathon? She feared for his safety, his life. She was frightened that if she were not here something terrible would happen to him. She knew it was a silly notion, but she could not free herself of that foreboding.
“Andrew, are you not traveling with them?” David was asking in surprise. The question roused Emily from her reverie.
“I shall stay here, David. I may be of some use in the future,” he replied.
“Again, Jonathon, you allow Andrew more freedom than you allow me!” Emily exploded. “How is it that a mere boy can remain, but your wife cannot? Explain that to me, sir!”
“Emily — ” Jonathon began in measured tones.
“Your reasons make no difference to me. I belong here with my husband. Our child should be born at the manor
. I will not have it otherwise.” She threw down her cards and folded her arms with an air of finality.
“Emily, please be sensible.” Jonathon pleaded.
“Sensible! Show me the sense in any of this, Jonathon,” she exclaimed. “Show me the sense in dividing families, in leaving your home. Show me the sense in war and killing.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I hate war and killing as you do, my love,” he replied softly. “But we are being strangled by a slower death otherwise. Please, Emily.” He took her hand in his.
She calmed at his words, his touch. The pent-up fear mixed with fatigue due to her pregnancy had been too much for her. She took a deep breath.
“Excuse me for that outburst,” she looked at each of them, then down at her hands. Jonathon reached over and took her hand and entwined his fingers in hers. Then he pressed them to his lips.
“You are under a terrible strain right now, Emily,” Joanna said softly. “Your first thoughts must be for your health and that of your child.”
Emily nodded, fighting for control of her emotions.
“I am very tired. If you will please excuse me,” she said, rising.
Murmurs of assent and understanding went around the table as Jonathon rose and followed her.
Entering their room, he found her standing at the window, her forehead pressed against the pane. He crossed the room and stood behind her, their reflection soft in the candle’s glow.
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the back of her head. They stood in silence for a time. Jonathon breathed in the scent of her hair and exhaled deeply.
“Love,” he whispered.
Emily trembled as she fought back her tears. She turned to him, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she surrendered to his tenderness. Jonathon whispered consolingly and stroked her hair. Finally, she looked up at him, her tear-streaked face tender and full of love.
“Jonathon, I am so afraid for you.”
“Emily, I truly would be in less danger if I knew you were safely away. I do not want to be parted from you, but I cannot concentrate on my work if I am distracted by fear for you.”
Time After Time Page 66