Wright, Cynthia

by Touch the Sun

  Joy to our native land,

  Let every heart expand

  For Washington's at hand,

  With glory crowned.

  More music-producing boats followed. Meagan could scarcely believe her eyes as she watched the spectacle. A school of porpoises performed next, and then a vessel appeared carrying Philip Freneau, the Anti-Federalist writer, and two orangutans.

  Even General Washington seemed startled by this. Frequently during the boat trip, he had turned to seek out the faces of Jay and Knox, who were familiar friends in an ocean of strangers. As Freneau passed by, the President-elect looked back with an expression of startled confusion. Meagan caught his eye and gave him her brightest grin, which seemed to have the desired effect.

  That smile had taken all her willpower, for in the midst of the day's contagious excitement, Meagan was feeling desperately lonely. Ever since Washington had taken her under his wing, the overpowering nature of her will to survive had gradually been replaced by misery. Now that she was safe, and returned to her true name and position, it began to seem that her past with Lion was only a bittersweet dream. He was lost to her forever... and she had no idea what, or whom, the future would hold for her.

  As the boat neared Manhattan Island, she forced herself to concentrate. All along the shore, deafening cheers went up from crowds that stood so close together that little was visible but hats. People were clinging to the masts of ships and hanging out of windows; thousands of arms waved to and fro. It seemed to Meagan that every person in the city, and then some, must have assembled on the docks today. She watched as the white-uniformed pilots skillfully brought the barge into a landing on Murray's Wharf at the foot of Wall Street.

  The next hour was a blur of cheers, faces, shoves, and confusion. Once General Washington mounted the carpeted stairs to the dock, where he was greeted by Mayor Duane and Governor Clinton, Meagan was not destined to see him again that day. Wedged in among the men, she could not get a proper view, and the cheering crowd made it impossible to even think. John Jay took her arm, but once they were off the boat, handed her over to his coachman.

  Washington had begun to walk through the crowds on his way to the home which had been procured for him on Cherry Street, but Meagan bounced along a different route—up Broadway in the Jay carriage. She was exhausted and utterly fed up with the crowds. A man had been crying nearby when she and John Jay stepped off the boat, sobbing that he could die contented now that he had seen the Saviour of his Country.

  It seemed too much. In fact, the entire period of her life since she had left Virginia was taking on the quality of a grand, mad illusion.

  ***

  New York City had been ravaged during the Revolution by two terrible fires and seven years of British occupation. After the war's end, the island seemed suspended in a state of shock which lasted through most of the 1780s. Lately, however, there had been much improvement. Damaged buildings were being restored, fine new homes were built, and improvements were begun on the narrow, crooked streets. The city and its management were still noticeably flawed, but there was no shortage of pleasure. New Yorkers loved to socialize, often to excess, and there was more than enough entertainment to satisfy every taste.

  John and Sally Jay were at the center of the elite social whirl in New York. Their mansion on Broadway was a gathering place for distinguished people from all over the world, known for the excellent wine and French food served by a hostess who charmed every guest.

  Meagan was no exception. She and Sally were immediately drawn to each other by certain shared physical traits: clear sparkly eyes, small frames, and creamy skin which was prone to blush. Sally Jay, however, was quite pregnant and possessed beautiful chestnut hair and dimples.

  Meagan felt at home instantly. The Jay mansion, centrally located on the east side of Broadway, was handsome and dignified, yet warm. The combination reminded Meagan of the marriage of John and Sally— opposites bringing out the best in each other.

  She was given a lovely room on the second floor, a hot bath, and a collection of dresses from Sally's prepregnancy collection. The children, ranging in age from four to fourteen, danced in and out of her room until she felt like an older sister.

  There was a share of other relatives, mostly Sally Jay's unmarried sisters. So many people rushed about the house that Meagan never did learn the exact dividing line between family and friends. Sally took it all in stride, her mood serene yet gay, so that Meagan just let herself fall into the group and hoped she was not making extra work for anyone.

  When General Washington explained Meagan's circumstances to John Jay, he began with the tale of her wealthy parents and their untimely deaths, intimating that the spirited girl was now in the process of escaping Aunt Agatha's guardianship and had encountered the General quite by chance. Jay passed this explanation on to his curious household, which had been dying to learn the secret of this gamine in boy's clothing. Sally was delighted by the entire situation.

  For three days, she let Meagan relax. There was a constant stream of callers at the mansion; it seemed that the only time someone wasn't visiting was when Sally and John were out at an assembly somewhere else. Meagan was invited to join in as though she were another sister, but she was reluctant to leave the house, and often remained in her room when there were visitors. The day the Binghams came for tea, Meagan was adamant about not meeting them, despite Sally's vivid description of Philadelphia's most wealthy and beautiful lady.

  Sally Jay worried about her young houseguest, especially since her reticence seemed so at odds with the adventurous spirit in breeches. Meagan was quiet, her huge violet eyes misty with hidden emotions.

  Then, James Madison and Edmund Randolph came for luncheon and Sally glimpsed the girl Meagan had been. She seemed overjoyed to see them, her happiness translated into rosy cheeks, dancing eyes, and a smile so bright that Sally was startled by the sight of it. Over lunch, the three Virginians spoke of times gone by at Pecan Grove, Mount Vernon, and their own plantations. They discussed General Washington and his reluctant return to public life as well as Madison and Randolph's moves to New York and their own futures. Meagan was particularly anxious for news about Edmund's wife Betsy and their four children.

  Finally, Jay took his guests off to the library so that they could discuss government affairs, and Meagan and Sally were left with their tea. The dining room overlooked a garden which stretched like a bright spring carpet back to New Street. Violets lent their perfume to the breeze that swirled through the open window, and Sally inhaled appreciatively.

  "I didn't know you could laugh like that! Seeing Mr. Randolph and Representative Madison seems to have been the perfect tonic for your spirits."

  Meagan looked up to meet clear blue eyes that reminded her so much of Lion's her heart twisted in pain. Her hostess's eyes were open, though, revealing pure motives of concern and affection.

  "I have felt so unsettled lately," Meagan told her carefully. "Since my father and mother died, I have had moments when I've been unsure of my own identity. My whole life has been turned upside down. I've never been frightened. But just now—being with those two men—was like falling backward in time—very reassuring..."

  "You used to laugh like that?"

  Meagan smiled crookedly. "I hope I didn't offend either you or Mr. Jay. I've never been good at holding my enthusiasm in check! But yes, I used to laugh like that—regularly. Often at all the wrong times!"

  "That sounds like me a dozen years ago! I'm still rather incorrigible, but time has toned me down." Sally inclined her head to one side, looking out over the garden. "And I know how you feel, losing your family, your home, and the environment you loved. About ten years ago, John was chosen to be the emissary to Spain and I went with him. The usual adjustments one makes in a foreign country—cut off from friends and relatives—were bad enough... but then, I gave birth to our second child. She was a beautiful little girl, but she fell ill when she was just a few days old and died." The blue eyes pooled with
tears. "I could find little to console me in a country whose customs, language, and religion were all the very reverse of our own, and where I had no ties. How I longed for a familiar face or voice! So you see, I have an idea of what you feel now."

  Meagan blinked back tears of her own, unable to frame a reply. When Sally Jay took her hand, it was the first bond of their warm friendship; their eyes met in understanding.

  "Meagan, I liked you from the moment you entered my house, and I feel closer to you the more I learn of your personality. It breaks my heart to think you no longer crave laughter and gaiety.

  "Would you make an attempt, just once, for me? There is so much excitement in New York right now and I think you deserve to share in it."

  Meagan considered this. The dull pain of yearning for Lion never left her, but hearing of Sally's loss seemed to diminish the size of her own problems. Besides, she had never been one to sink into gloom; life was too precious to waste in self-pity.

  "You are right. I suppose the time has come for me to plunge ahead. What did you have in mind?"

  Sally leaned forward in her chair, wearing the excited look of a matchmaker who seldom had the chance to act. "There is an assembly Tuesday night at the home of Henry and Lucy Knox. It should be a splendid affair, and I have the perfect gown for you. Isn't it wonderful that we are the same size?" Dimples appeared in her pink cheeks as she patted the curve of her abdomen. "Well, we were once, and shall be again! At any rate, I should confess all..."

  Meagan was puzzled, but Sally laughed and rushed on.

  "When John came home yesterday, he said that he had met a most interesting man at City Tavern. Apparently this fellow possesses every physical and mental virtue, including a facility for sarcasm—a trait much admired by my husband! In John's opinion, he is destined for greatness... but he did seem lonely. Now, in my opinion, you and this mystery man sound ideally suited!"

  Chapter Forty

  Wearing only her chemise and petticoats, Meagan lay stiffly on the pencil-post bed, afraid to move lest her coiffure be ruined. A cool afternoon breeze played with the linen ruffle on the canopy frame and caused her bare throat and arms to prickle.

  I must have lost my senses to have agreed to this, she thought desperately. It is bound to be one of the major gatherings; the Binghams are sure to attend! I'm not ready yet for confrontations...

  She closed her eyes in an attempt to keep Lion from invading her mind, but it was no use. She had been gone a week, and he and Priscilla were certainly married by this time. Her thoughts had only to touch on the subject of their wedding night and her brain recoiled as if scalded. She practiced again at making her mind a blank.

  There was a knock at the door, followed by the cheerful entrance of Sarah Jay, who wore a loose, skillfully cut gown of cinnamon brocade shot through with gold threads. The colors were perfect against her chestnut curls.

  Sally's maid followed. Meagan saw that she held a beautiful dress fashioned of smoky-violet taffeta in one hand, silk slippers in the other.

  "Do you like it?" Sally inquired anxiously.

  "Oh, it is lovely!"

  "Good! That color never flattered me half as much as it will you. Oh, Meagan, I haven't been so excited since the night John proposed to me!

  "As soon as you finish dressing, join us downstairs. The cook is fixing lobster tonight, so we shall feast before leaving for General Knox's. We also have an entire tray of éclairs from Mr. Pryor's shop, but the children will devour them if you aren't quick!"

  She paused, noting Meagan's position and expression.

  "I do hope you are well. John tells me the young man with the scathing wit will certainly attend—as well as a girl you may know. Her name is Priscilla Wade, and I understand her family also lives near Mount Vernon. Anne Bingham said that she and her brand-new husband were due to arrive in New York at any time!"

  Sally could not have been more surprised when, at the end of her cheerful announcement, she saw Meagan's face go as white as her petticoats.

  ***

  General Henry Knox lived in a handsome four-story brick house located not far from Bowling Green, on the west side of Broadway. Tonight, it was ablaze with light and an assemblage of dazzling notables who were enjoying their chance to play a role in this week-long fairy tale. Women and men alike wore costly imported silks, satins, and brocades, as well as a profusion of jewels. To Sally Jay, it was like returning to Versailles.

  There was at least one person present who was not opulently garbed. He stood away from the groups of people who drank and danced and laughed. His expression was indifferent; cool and cynical. Steely blue eyes watched the performances of others, and although one golden brow arched in seeming amusement, the hard line of his mouth never softened.

  John and Sarah Jay were coming in from the piazza when she spotted the stranger whose unpowdered hair appeared more golden than the glittering light of the chandeliers. He was magnificent. Clad in a well-cut coat of indigo blue over white breeches, a pearl silk waistcoat, and a spotless linen shirt with a froth of lace against his brown jaw, the man seemed to mock the extravagant clothes worn by others. He lounged against the wall, sipping brandy, and Sally thought that even in repose, he appeared more powerful than any man she had ever seen.

  "John!" she hissed, pulling at her husband's arm as he started off toward Alexander Hamilton. "Who is that ferocious-looking fellow over there? Do you know?"

  He followed her gaze and broke into a rare smile. "That is the man I was telling you about! The one Meagan was to meet—Lion Hampshire."

  "Are you joking?"

  "No, of course not. And stop staring, Sally."

  "Well, introduce us, then! I am consumed by curiosity!"

  A moment later, Lion was greeted by the tall figure of John Jay, who lost no time in presenting his wife. Lion nearly closed his eyes after one look at her. The rosy cheeks, gleaming dark curls, and dancing eyes were wrenchingly familiar.

  Sally felt the tawny hand that held hers tighten almost reflexively and saw the pain that flared in his eyes.

  "Mr. Hampshire, are you all right?"

  Lion waited for the agony to subside and his wall of ice to slip back into place, protecting him from those emotions that made living worse than hell. Mrs. Jay's anxious gaze was like a steady flame that prevented the ice from setting.

  "I—" A muscle moved in his jaw. "To be honest, Mrs. Jay, your enchanting face and manner remind me of someone I loved—and lost, recently."

  "Oh, my! Mr. Hampshire, I am so sorry! That must be the reason why you look so bitter—"

  "Sally—" interjected John.

  "You poor man. This is simply dreadful, especially at your age. Were there any children?"

  "Sally!"

  "It's all right, Mr. Jay." Lion's mouth hinted at a smile, the first in days. "No, there were no children. We were just on the verge of marriage."

  Sally's great blue eyes shone with compassion. It seemed a tragedy beyond belief that two people as young and splendid as Lion Hampshire and Meagan Sayers should be so sad during this wonderful, festive week.

  John was watching Sally, his high forehead creased as he sensed her busy mind at work. He took full advantage of the opportunity to interrupt.

  "Mr. Hampshire, are you acquainted with Mr. Hamilton?"

  "Yes, though I am sure he would not remember our meeting. I attended the Constitutional Convention, where he was a delegate."

  Sally would not be turned aside so easily. "Mr. Hampshire, I do hope you will forgive me for daring to interfere, but it breaks my heart to hear of your misfortune and to see you harden toward the rest of the world.

  "It just so happens that we have a guest in our house whose circumstances are very similar to yours. She is a lovely girl. Perhaps you have heard John speak of Miss Sayers? The ordeal she has been through this winter has driven out all her natural gaiety. Even tonight—I had persuaded her to come along, but at the last minute, she couldn't face the crush."

  Lion was afraid t
o reply, sensing what was ahead. "That does sound like a sad situation, Mrs. Jay," he murmured at last.

  "Oh, Mr. Hampshire, I know you will believe me hopelessly romantic, but I cannot help thinking that you and Miss Sayers might be able to help each other! At least, it couldn't do any harm for you to meet—"

  "Sally!" pleaded John.

  "Well, it couldn't! Mr. Hampshire, won't you agree to come home with us later tonight for a bit of brandy? If my friend could meet just one person, it might be the first step back into society for her."

  Lion felt cornered. He was too charmed by Sally Jay to deliver the curt refusal any other woman would have received.

  "Mrs. Jay, I am at your disposal."

  As the clock struck ten, the white-wigged major domo intoned, "Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Reems!"

  A radiant Priscilla moved beside her husband to meet Henry Knox, the convivial giant of a man who was called Washington's closest friend, and his wife, Lucy, followed by a dozen other socially prominent couples. They had been in New York only a few hours, but Marcus had been determined to make an appearance at General Knox's.

  The President-elect was due to arrive at any moment. Marcus stood in the large parlor, flawlessly attentive to his beautiful bride, but all the while looking for Lion. If he could have seen his brother through the walls, Marcus would have burned anew with frustrated rage.

  Lion was in the library, in the middle of a group of the country's most influential men. Alexander Hamilton, graceful and courtly, stood to his left; John Adams, the plump and often pompous Vice President-elect to his right. Also present were James Madison, slight of build and calm; and John Jay.

  They were involved in a heated discussion concerning the issue of the month: presidential etiquette. They argued back and forth, each with a different idea for General Washington's title. Hamilton commented that a Senate committee had voted for "His Highness the President of the United States of America and Protector of the Rights of the Same."

  Madison wrinkled his nose and inquired reasonably, "What is wrong with simply, 'President of the United States'?"