Wright, Cynthia

by Touch the Sun

  "I can't imagine that Mrs. Jay would still allow that —after my conduct last night. Breaking my word—"

  Jay smiled wryly. "Sally thinks you a dashing libertine, and your conduct only served to enhance that romantic image in her mind. As a matter of fact, she was urging me only an hour ago to ask you to join her and Miss Sayers tomorrow. I will be part of the President's entourage, but the ladies will go to Federal Hall in our carriage."

  "Perhaps I could meet them there."

  "Splendid! Sally will be thrilled at the prospect. However, I think it best not to tell Miss Sayers that your meeting has been prearranged. Sally has been moving heaven and earth to persuade her to attend the ceremonies at all, and the idea of being thrown together with a man might scare her off again."

  Nodding somberly, Lion stifled an impulse to laugh. "A wise decision. May I ask if that was the reason she backed away from the party last night?"

  "Oh, no. I'm certain your name never came up, for I neglected to mention it to Sally until she saw you at General Knox's. As I recall, Sally felt Meagan grow skittish at the prospect of meeting some girlhood friend of hers who has recently married."

  Lion bit his lip, eyes snapping merrily. "I see. Poor girl. Well, I shall do my best to break through her apathy..."

  Chapter Forty-two

  Meagan was awake before dawn. Her self-imposed confinement was beginning to chafe and she longed to get outside, if only to breathe the sweet, dewy air and see the sights of New York.

  Standing at her window, clad in an exquisitely embroidered lawn bedgown, she stared out over the dark, still city. Where is Lion now? she wondered. Is he sleeping with Priscilla? Does she lie in the circle of his arm, with her head on his chest... as I used to do?

  The constant flow of pain was turning sour. Jealousy made her angry, more at herself than anyone else, and she was weary of the sadness that lay on her heart like a great weight. All the emotions she had been experiencing the past few days were part of a natural process, but foreign to her nonetheless. Never before had she known even a moment's depression— she was too feisty.

  I think the time has come to tell the rest of the world to go to hell! she thought rebelliously. At least the people who knew me as Meagan South. So what if I meet the Binghams—or even Lion and Priscilla? I have never been afraid of anyone before, or any situation, either! And, after all, I have a right to a life, too. I can't keep skulking around like a scared kitten.

  Outside, a molten orange sun began to edge its way up over the bay and Meagan saw the first in a long line of Negro slaves on their way to the river, each with a tub of sewage on his head. A cart driven by a tea-water man clattered around the corner next, and drowsy-looking serving-girls came out of houses to purchase a hogshead of the excellent spring water.

  It looked like the weather would cooperate; only a few clouds drifted across the glowing sky. Meagan started as the cannon shots began from the Battery. There were thirteen of them, reminding anyone who might have forgotten that today George Washington would become the first President of the United States.

  Meagan was excited and ready for this newest adventure. Who could tell what might happen?

  ***

  Lion shrugged into his newest coat, of a shade known as "London smoke." It fit to perfection, skillfully cut to accommodate his shoulders without hanging in folds around his lean, narrow hips. He also wore a crisp muslin shirt and cravat, a dull gray satin waistcoat, oyster-white breeches, and black knee-boots. What truly pleased him, though, was the sparkle in his eyes. Ultramarine, Meagan had called them once. Beyond the sea.

  The sea on a windy, sunny day with a hurricane on the horizon! Lion thought now. He grinned at his reflection, gratified to see that his teeth were still blindingly white.

  The pottery lion stood on the worn tea-table in this room on City Tavern's second floor. He reached out to touch the statue, remembering Meagan's face when she presented it to him.

  Part of himself was furious with her for the deceit she had practiced on him—though he thought he understood what had prompted it. He was looking forward to their confrontation today with diabolical glee. One eyebrow went up as he stared at his mirror image, recalling things she had said: "I am only a waif who knows no life but service to my betters"... followed by an endless stream of evasions. So much that had perplexed him in the past was clear now, but a new set of questions simmered in his mind.

  Clenching his teeth, Lion thought of what both of them had suffered because of her pride. It had nearly cost Meagan her life.

  "Ah, fondling," he whispered, "today I shall have my turn. Prepare to be stalked!"

  The sudden pounding at the door startled him. Lion opened it to find James Wade standing there, and for a moment he failed to remember the note he had sent the night before.

  "Well?" demanded Wade, whose breath already smelled of wine.

  "James, come in! Your revelations yesterday have made me see you in a new light. I have a favor to ask of you." Lion was at his ironically courteous best.

  "A favor? Today? Why should I—"

  "I don't mean to take advantage of your friendship, of course. I thought that, in return, I might pay whatever debts you have yet outstanding—and then some."

  Wade's expression changed immediately from surly to elated. As Lion well knew, the man would sell his sister for money.

  "Well then! What did you have in mind? By the way, you wouldn't have something to drink—?"

  Lion poured a generous glass of brandy which James took eagerly in his pudgy hand.

  "Neither of us has time to spare on this of all days, so I shall come directly to the point. I learned last night that a—lady friend of mine was killed in a carriage accident yesterday morning, some miles south of New York City. There is reason to believe that the carriage-wheel may have been tampered with, but of course that is difficult to prove."

  James gulped his brandy, looking utterly confused.

  "Suffice it to say that I suspect that your dear brother-in-law was involved, at least in helping the young lady leave town. Certain articles that were in her possession are missing, and I am hoping you can help me trace them to Marcus."

  "Trace them...?" James drained the glass and Lion refilled it.

  "Yes. All I ask is that you keep your eyes and ears open. What I am looking for is a ring—a carved gold band inlaid with seven small, perfect rubies. There is also a large emerald necklace that I would recognize. If you can discover either or both of these pieces in Marcus's possession, the money I mentioned earlier will be yours. Do you understand?"

  James' little eyes glittered greedily. "'Believe me, Hampshire, if he's got that jewelry, I'll find out!"

  ***

  The Jay coach was full to the brim with Sally, Meagan, the three children, and Sally's sisters. Everyone was dressed in their finest, including the little girls, who wore tailored dresses and coats of white silk, and fourteen-year-old Peter, garbed in a suit of gray that matched his father's in every detail. Sally was cloaked in the same gray broadcloth, while her sisters wore green brocade and cinnamon taffeta.

  Meagan had been shocked when Sally brought a dress from her wardrobe for Meagan to wear. Fashioned of cream silk overlaid with soft lilac muslin, it was so lovely that she had protested. They argued; Sally won, and Meagan emerged from her room looking truly beautiful. For the first time in months, a maid had dressed her hair, leaving it unpowdered, with a spray of lilacs inserted into the shining curls at the back of her head. Her cheeks glowed with excitement, and her violet eyes seemed larger and more thickly-lashed than ever. When she appeared at the top of the stairs, the group of Jays in the vestibule broke into spontaneous applause.

  Shortly after noon, they all set out in the coach, bound for the newly refurbished Federal Hall. The streets were crowded with troops, carriages, riders, carts, and pedestrians, and people were beginning to line the windows of houses within view of Federal Hall. The Jay carriage wound its way down Wall Street until it could go no farther
. The well-trained horses stood still, in spite of all the chaos around them, and the passengers settled back to wait for the procession.

  Peter was particularly anxious, since he knew his father would be passing on horseback behind General Washington's carriage and the committee of the House. Meagan was chatting with the little girls, telling them stories about her childhood adventures at Mount Vernon, while Sally looked nervously out into the crowded street.

  How in the world will Mr. Hampshire ever find us? she wondered. Her excitement was fading quickly into disappointment. It seemed fortunate that she had not told Meagan about Mr. Hampshire after all, for it had appeared extremely unlikely that they would meet today.

  When Meagan saw the yellow post-chariot from her window, drawn by Hellfire and Heaven, all the blood drained from her face.

  How did he get Heaven? she wondered wildly, remembering Gravel's statement about Heaven serving as "proof."

  Then, the light carriage drew to a halt right next to their own and Meagan thought her heart would stop. Sally Jay was beaming in relief as the door opened and Lion stepped down to the street. She called a greeting to him.

  Merciful God, turn him in another direction! Meagan prayed feverishly. She huddled into her corner and pretended to look for someone in the crowd. Sally was opening the door, greeting Lion again. By some miracle Meagan prayed that she would not be noticed or introduced and Lion would see only the back of her head. She felt giddy, hot, and nauseous; voices came through a blur. Peter nudged her.

  "Meagan! Have you gone deaf?" Sally was asking. "Do turn around and say hello to Mr. Hampshire."

  There was no escape. Slowly, she turned, dreading the expression she knew would appear on his face.

  His physical presence had a stunning effect on Meagan; she had forgotten the intensity of his magnetic pull. Their eyes met, but Lion's flashed with mischief rather than shock; Meagan blinked and focused on a wicked grin of dazzling brilliance.

  "Meagan, are you feeling ill?" Sally asked anxiously.

  Lion reached for her hand; his tanned skin was warm and dry.

  She began to tremble.

  "My dear Miss Sayers, I have waited so long for this moment. You must promise to revive." His gaze wandered over her, lingering on the places a gentleman's eyes would avoid. "I must say, you are certainly a lovely representative of Virginia's aristocracy."

  Meagan tried to speak, but when her lips parted, only a tiny squeak came out. Her mind spun so that each time she tried to catch a thought, it eluded her. Only one phrase repeated itself over and over, until her ears seemed to ring... I must be dreaming. I must be dreaming!

  Sally was watching her with anxious concern, while Lion continued to hold her hand, tightening his grip whenever she attempted to pull away.

  "Meagan has been through a trying time," Sally was explaining. "She is weak, and shy around strangers."

  Lion's expression was sympathetic in the extreme. Only Meagan could see the mocking lights in his eyes. "I shall certainly keep that in mind, Mrs. Jay. As a matter of fact, I am partial to shy, soft-spoken women, so we should deal quite well together." He looked directly into Meagan's wide eyes. "Miss Sayers, if it would help you to talk to someone, I should be pleased to provide a sympathetic ear. I am a very good listener!"

  Meagan's blood was beginning to flow again as she reacted instinctively to Lion's taunting. Her voice returned.

  "Mr. Hampshire, shouldn't you be getting back to your wife?"

  To her chagrin, his smile only widened.

  "Meagan!" Sally interjected. "What a thing to say. Mr. Hampshire is not married!"

  "Not yet," he agreed.

  Meagan glowered back, but before she could speak again, Peter let out a shout from the street, where he had gone to get a better view. Other people had begun to point to the distant figures, while the faint sound of music could finally be heard.

  "Peter!" called Sally, "You had better get back inside this instant."

  The drumbeats were louder now; the grand marshal, Colonel Lewis, was close enough to recognize. As Peter scrambled up into the crowded carriage, Lion moved in with silent, deadly grace for the first attack.

  "I think I may have a solution for this overcrowding problem, Mrs. Jay." His smile could have lit a bonfire. "It would give me great pleasure to offer Miss Sayers a seat in my carriage—"

  "No!" Meagan snapped, glaring at him.

  Sally was startled, confused, and embarrassed. The poor man! She had badgered him so about meeting Meagan... and he couldn't be more charming! "Meagan, it is rather close in here. I see nothing wrong with you sharing Mr. Hampshire's carriage. I am certain that we may count on him to behave as a gentleman."

  "Absolutely!" Lion could scarcely contain his mirth as he put out a hand to help Meagan down.

  Her cheeks were burning with anger and humiliation; she longed to pummel him, to push him over backward into the street for the cavalry troops to trample.

  Sally's two sisters, both over thirty and unmarried, leaned forward to watch the couple cross to the yellow post-chariot.

  "I have never seen such a man before in all my life!" breathed one of them, spellbound. "Did you see the way Meagan behaved? You'd think he had leprosy! I would give anything to change places with her right now."

  Sally started to speak but was interrupted by the shouts of the children, who jumped up and down on the carriage seat to herald the procession's approach. The cavalry troop of dragoons came alongside them, horses prancing and swords glinting in the sunlight. The artillery passed next, followed by the grenadiers, resplendent in blue uniforms and hats with towering white feathers. Sally forgot about Meagan and Lion Hampshire, losing herself in the pageantry with an enthusiasm to match that of her children. Bagpipes, played by kilt-garbed troops, wailed eerily, and Peter exclaimed that he could see the carriages which held the committee of the Senate.

  The yellow post-chariot might as well have been the only vehicle on a deserted street for all the attention it was paid. Everyone's eyes were riveted on the impressive, handsomely uniformed troops; then they were cheering as they recognized the more illustrious new senators who waved from the plush carriages.

  Meagan and Lion were oblivious to the pandemonium that swept from the figures atop Wall Street's roofs all the way through the roaring sea of heads and arms to the cream-colored coach carrying George Washington. Meagan saw nothing but Lion, and heard no sound but his voice.

  "It would seem that there is a great deal for us to discuss," he said, when they sat facing one another in the familiar brown leather environment from their past.

  Meagan was enraged by his insolence, his arrogance. The smile had disappeared. He stretched out his legs so that the handsome leather boots brushed her skirts, flicked a bit of dust from his white-clad thigh, and stared at her.

  "You pompous ass! How dare you!"

  Lion raised a tawny hand and pretended to cringe. "Oh, please, Miss Sayers! Don't call me names!"

  She swept her muslin and silk skirts away from his boots. "Of all the high-handed behavior! The only position you could fill in this government would be Secretary of Arrogance!" Her eyes were sparkling amethysts, framed by soft black tendrils escaping from her coiffure.

  "I didn't know ladies of the upper class could speak like that," Lion observed dryly.

  "Will you stop it! Can I never find any peace from you? Have you sought me out now to take Priscilla's place as your political asset? Has she been cast aside now that you've learned your kitchen-slut has nobler ancestry? One of my uncles is a duke, you know—"

  "Shut up." Lion's voice was dangerous.

  "Why don't you leave me alone? You didn't want me before and you must think me a bigger fool than Priscilla if you imagine I'll marry you now! Now that my lineage has been given the Hampshire seal of approval—"

  Lion leaned over and roughly cupped her trembling chin. Their faces were inches apart; his eyes opaque and icy, hers brimming with bitter tears. Meagan tried to strike him, but he de
ftly caught her wrist. The lilac scent that clung to her feverish body filled his nostrils and shot powerful currents of desire through his loins.

  The questions which they both had been waiting to ask found a common answer as Lion's mouth met hers. She was sobbing, clinging to his shoulders and letting her fingertips wander over the planes of his face. Lion's arms were like iron across her back, crushing her slight body against him as though he could absorb her. They kissed, over and over, tasting until their cravings abated enough for a pause. Lion held her face between his lean, dark hands and met her tearful gaze with eyes no longer icy.

  "Don't you know, you foolish vixen, how much I love you?"

  ***

  General Washington stood on the balcony of Federal Hall in full view before a low railing and repeated the oath of office after Chancellor Robert R. Livingston. His voice was fervent with emotion as he spoke, and after proclaiming, "So help me God!" he bent and kissed the Bible.

  Livingston turned to the endless crowd and cried out. "Long live George Washington, President of the United States!"

  The cheers of the crowd intensified into a deafening roar that seemed capable of reaching every corner of the new country. Cannon thundered from the harbor, church bells rang in celebration; and in the midst of the tumult, Lion and Meagan were conscious only of each other.

  EPILOGUE

  A single man resembles the odd half of a pair of scissors.

  —Benjamin Franklin

  Birdsong and sunlight abounded the first Sunday in May as the Jay family strolled home from church. Broadway's footpath was crowded with parishioners who chattered noisily after the long, enforced silence at St. Paul's Chapel, but Sally was quiet as she continually looked over her shoulder for Meagan and Lion.

  "Darling, what could he do in broad daylight?" John inquired, reading her mind.

  "I don't trust him. Look! They are deliberately losing themselves in the crush—"

  "I don't blame them," he said with growing irritation. "You probably make them nervous, ever watching and following. It is not like you! They're in love and probably desperate for a moment alone."