Come Be My Love

by Patricia Watters

  Sarah slid to the floor and closed her arms around herself. She felt so dirty. So disgustingly dirty. And there was nothing Jon could do to change that. She was what she was. A wanton little whore who lusted after a man who wanted her only as his mistress.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dorothy Cromwell stood, her back ramrod-straight, as she stared at the front door of Sarah Ashley's modest dwelling. When she'd seen the cottage the day she and Harriet found Jon and the Ashley woman there, it looked rather disreputable. Now, with the rosebushes trimmed and flower beds weeded, and with sparkling clean windows framing lacy white curtains and a colorful braided foot mat gracing the threshold, the cottage presented an entirely different facade. A snug, homey facade. But whatever the feminine touches contributed by Miss Ashley, they didn't change the facts. As long as the woman remained in Victoria, she was a bad influence on Jon’s daughters, an encumbrance to his career, and a threat to the colony.

  Dorothy adjusted her gray crepe bonnet to sit squarely atop her head and straightened her black lace fichu to drape neatly about her shoulders. She could not explain, even to herself, why she must look her best today. She had only a vague feeling that in order to complete her objective, she would have to earn Miss Ashley's respect.

  Raising an unsteady hand, she knocked lightly while going over in her mind what she would say, particularly her opening statement. She must not appear resentful or demanding, but rather concerned. She must appeal to the woman's sensibilities.

  The door swept open, and Dorothy saw the shock in Sarah Ashley's eyes, large emerald eyes that looked as if they'd recently shed tears. Then she saw shock give way to wariness as Miss Ashley said in a wavering voice, "Good afternoon, Lady Cromwell."

  For a moment, Dorothy stared, unable to believe that this scrubbed-clean woman with her modest gingham dress, her starched white apron with its ruffled trim, and her hair pulled up in a tidy knot on top of her head was the same woman who had worn an indecently low-cut gown to dinner. "Miss Ashley," she said, "if I might have a few moments of your time?"

  "Well... yes, of course," she replied. "Please, do come in and sit down." She moved aside, and Dorothy entered.

  Stepping into the room, Dorothy glanced around. With the exception of two skirted lady's chairs and a small linen-covered tea table between them, there were no other pieces of furniture. But two sewing machines on two rather crudely built tables dominated the room. Everywhere lay fabric and patterns and snippets of material....

  "Please... sit down," Sarah said, motioning to one of the chairs. "May I offer you tea?"

  "Yes, thank you. That would be lovely, dear," Dorothy replied, careful to maintain a cordial facade. She sat stiffly on the edge of the chair while Sarah stepped into the kitchen. Several minutes later, Sarah returned carrying a tray holding a small dish with several biscuits and two dainty china cups with steaming tea. She set the tray on the table, then offering sugar and cream, said, "I hope you'll excuse my house, but as you can see, it's also my place of business."

  Dorothy gave a sympathetic nod. "We must adapt to our circumstances as best we can." She pondered the younger woman sitting adjacent to her. The golden-russet color of her hair seemed richer than she'd remembered, the set of her chin less firm, the lines of her delicate face softer, more vulnerable. She searched for signs that Sarah Ashley was the threat she knew her to be, but found instead a poised, lovely woman whom she knew Jon loved. But, in time, he'd forget.

  Deciding that the reason behind her visit could not be put off any longer, she said tentatively, "I know you must be wondering why I'm here."

  "Well... yes, I am," Sarah replied. "I'm sorry, but I must assume it's not a social call."

  "Unfortunately," Dorothy replied, "I'm afraid you're right. To be frank with you, Miss Ashley, Jon's cabinet feels it's imperative that you leave the colony at once." She paused to allow her statement to be absorbed.

  Sarah's courteous smile shriveled. She blinked, took a slow sip of tea, and said nothing.

  Continuing in a contrite voice, Dorothy said, "I'm sure you're aware that if the colonies unite, the independence Jon has strived so hard to maintain, and Victoria's position as a free trade port, will cease."

  "Jon mentioned something about that," Sarah replied. She took another slow sip of tea.

  "I'm certain he didn't elaborate on it, though," Dorothy said, wishing Sarah Ashley would stop staring at her with those large, luminous eyes. "He would not want you to think that your presence would have that much influence. Unfortunately, it does." Dorothy waited for the information to be digested, and again, Sarah Ashley said nothing, but continued to stare at her with those wide eyes, which now held a hint of uncertainty. "You see," Dorothy continued, "with the impending threat of unification, Jon's administration cannot endure the added complication you have brought to the colony. It's an unfortunate situation, for both you and Jon."

  Sarah finally spoke. "I realize my being here has caused some problems for Jon," she admitted, "but certainly it has no real bearing on whether or not the colonies unite. I am just not that important."

  "But that's where you're wrong. You are a major threat to the colony." Dorothy set the cup down with a clatter. "Only if Jon can maintain a stable economy can unification be prevented. But to do that, he needs the support of his cabinet and the merchants of the community, all of whom are becoming divided over the issue of rights for women!" Realizing she'd raised her voice, Dorothy drew in a long breath to compose herself. Then she continued in a benevolent tone, "Unfortunately, because of your presence in Victoria and the defamatory editorial attacks of Mr. De Cosmos, Jon has rapidly lost favor with the community, something he cannot afford in light of the current situation, particularly with the representatives from the Crown scheduled to arrive soon to evaluate the economic position of the colony, and, of course, to re-assess Jon's qualifications as governor of the combined colonies, should they unite." Dorothy saw a flash of intense emotion in Sarah's eyes. Was it love? Did she, in fact, love Jon as he loved her?

  After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Sarah said, "I suppose I could cease my business until after the representatives have completed their assessment and left."

  Dorothy had anticipated such a response, although she'd rather hoped the Ashley woman would have become defensive instead of complaisant, and that she would stubbornly assert her rights, at which time Dorothy was prepared to dislike her immensely. Now, as she looked at the younger woman with her lovely face and spring-fresh complexion, she found nothing really to dislike. But the fact remained, she was a threat to Jon, and she must go. "Even if you give up your crusade," she argued, "you're still a threat to Jon's political position, as too many of the townspeople look upon you with disfavor for the disturbance you have caused."

  "But certainly the townspeople can look around and see what Jon has done for the colony," Sarah insisted. "And in time, whatever disturbance they feel I've caused will be forgotten."

  Dorothy snapped open her fan and fluttered it to cool her flushed face. She'd hoped to establish her point by now, but it was obvious she had not. She'd be forced to bring up other, more personal issues to reinforce her position. "I'm afraid it's not that simple," she said. "There is talk that Jon remained at your house for an inordinate amount of time after the ball. The fact is, Miss Ashley, there is talk that you are my son's mistress." There, she'd said it.

  Sarah's hand shook, spilling tea into her saucer, and she quickly set her cup down.

  Dorothy chastised herself for being so cruel, but she needed every ploy she had at her disposal. "I'm sorry to have brought that up, Miss Ashley, but you must realize that that sort of vicious talk can ruin a man politically."

  "It seems that my private life is an open book in Victoria," Sarah said in an uneven voice. "Is that the case with everyone here?"

  "No," Dorothy said, "but anyone engaged in a liaison with the governor is open to censure."

  "Yes, I suppose you're right," Sarah replied.

 
Dorothy wished the woman would become argumentative and unreasonable, or scream profanities like a fishwife. But her poise never cracked.

  Continuing, Dorothy said, "In addition, there is the added complication of Josephine's brash actions. You may not be aware, but just yesterday, she was suspended from Madame Pettibeau's Seminary for Young Ladies for two weeks. Jon returned Josephine's scrapbook, as you suggested he do, and Josephine took it to school. Unfortunately, Madame Pettibeau found it in her possession. I'm afraid you have much more influence with Josephine than does her own father."

  "I'm very sorry about that," Sarah said. "Of course Josephine should not have taken the scrapbook to school, and I would have advised... no, insisted, she not do so. I feel very badly about this, and yes, even responsible."

  The sorrowful eyes that met Dorothy's were sincerely penitent, and Dorothy realized Sarah Ashley cared a great deal for Josephine, a thought that made her feel a moment of profound remorse. Regardless, Dorothy knew that what she was doing was right, and so she proceeded. "Well, that may be, but since Josephine looks upon you as a mentor, striving to emulate you, it has become a serious problem of late."

  Again, Sarah Ashley said nothing, simply sat staring at Dorothy with an expression that had changed from remorse to despair. Feeling a vague sense of injustice on her part, Dorothy shifted her gaze to a bouquet of asters on the windowsill. "I'm afraid Louella has also become a problem since your arrival," she continued. "Before, she never disobeyed her father. But now we learn that not only did she go against Jon's strict orders that she not visit the O'Shaunessey girl, but she faced grave danger because of it, and you knew."

  "But I assure you, I had nothing to do with Louella going to see the girl," Sarah said.

  "Perhaps not," Dorothy replied, "but you did hide the fact from her father."

  "No, I did not," Sarah insisted. "I told him that same day what Louella had done."

  "But you failed to mention that Mrs. O'Shaunessey had a gun. You may not be aware of it, Miss Ashley, but we have just learned that the O'Shaunessey girl's mother shot and killed the girl's father on that very day and hid the body. It was only just discovered."

  "What! Oh... my God..." Sarah exclaimed, her face growing pale.

  "Yes... as a matter of fact, the woman claimed she was protecting Louella from the man’s advances," Dorothy said, focusing on Sarah's chin so she wouldn't have to look into those stunned, repentant eyes. "Louella is deeply disturbed by the episode. And she claims that she did tell you about Mrs. O'Shaunessey having a gun."

  Sarah's hands twisted in her lap. "Yes," she admitted. "I did know about it. But Louella was so upset, and she begged me not to say anything to her father, so I promised I wouldn't."

  "Well, that was not a wise decision on your part," Dorothy said. "Her father should have been told everything, regardless of Louella's wishes. These problems with the girls are added complications that Jon simply does not need right now." To Dorothy's shock, Sarah's enormous green eyes filled with tears.

  Sarah blinked several times and looked away, reaching for a biscuit to disguise her emotion. "What is it you want me to do?" she asked, looking at the pastry she held in her trembling fingers.

  Dorothy swallowed hard, fixed her objective in mind, and replied, "The only thing you can do, if you love Jon, and I do believe you love him. Leave Victoria." She said the words slowly, purposefully and emphatically. "Should you remain here, not only would you further damage Jon’s standing in the community and threaten his position with the royal government, but you would also jeopardize the welfare of his daughters."

  "I see." Sarah stood, walked to the window and looked out. After a few moments, without turning, she said, "If you'll excuse me, I must see to some... things."

  "I understand." Dorothy realized the woman was crying softly. "I'll just let myself out." When Sarah didn't respond, Dorothy gathered her reticule, stepped around the patterns on the floor, and left the cottage.

  As the door clicked shut, Sarah moved from the window and blotted her eyes with her apron. How could she have allowed herself to lose control in front of Lady Cromwell? And how humiliating to know that Jon's mother, and the entire town, seemed to know that Jon had been with her after the ball. They no doubt knew about the beach incident as well. So Hollis had already started to carry out his threat. He'd see her driven from Victoria. He'd see her in hell again before it was over...

  Warm tears flooded her eyes. She felt so empty, so hollow. She and Jon shared wondrous loving moments that culminated when he made love to her after the ball. And now, how could she simply walk out of his life? Her previous goal, which once seemed so important, had become secondary to the loss she felt over not sharing a life with him. But, loving him as she did, what choice did she have? If she stayed in Victoria, her presence, and the vicious gossip that Hollis would spread, would threaten his career and perhaps even threaten the colony. It would also destroy his daughters’ respect for him and alienate him from his family. And she could not take that chance. Nor could she face another terrible scandal.

  Knowing at once what she must do, she dragged a trunk into the parlor. She'd leave on the next steamer. Whether it was bound for Port Townsend or Seattle or New Westminster, it made no difference, as long as she was gone before Jon returned. It was the cowardly way out, but her only choice. If she saw Jon again and he opened his arms to her, she feared she'd lose herself in his embrace. But if he returned before she got away, she'd have no alternative but to appear cold and uncaring, because if she wavered, he'd see through her actions and simply not allow her to go. And she could not give him that chance to change her mind.

  She blotted her eyes. She'd put thoughts of him from her mind. Yes, she would. After all, he embraced the traditional male attitude about a woman's place, which undoubtedly applied to his mistress as well. And she couldn't live with that.

  Yes... yes she could. And that was the honest truth.

  She could live with it. It wasn't his traditional male attitude that stopped her. The truth was, she couldn't bare to raise a child who could one day be accused of being just another bastard who didn't know its father. Although Jon said he'd care for any child of their union, that wasn't enough. Her own mother must have believed that the man she'd given herself to would stay by her. But he hadn't. He'd simply turned his back on her and his daughter and walked out of their lives. And, if a younger, more beautiful woman one day walked into Jon's life, there was no assurance that he might not do the same. Although they'd shared one night of love, that didn't change the facts. She was just a woman he wanted for his mistress. Nothing more.

  ***

  Jon snapped the buggy whip smartly over the mare's rump, urging her on, anxious to get back to Sarah. She'd been on his mind constantly while he was in New Westminster, and he wanted her. The buggy rattled and bumped over the uneven road, a road that would soon be macadamized. Which should make the Crown take note.

  This last trip to New Westminster verified his hunch. While the city fathers boasted funds in accounts, the city's ditches overflowed with drainage from cesspools, streams of soapy water ran from the public bath houses into the unpaved streets, and the whole place reeked of rotting fish, pent-up pigs, and carrion from the slaughterhouses. But while Victoria's accounts might fall significantly short of the glorified and somewhat padded accounts of New Westminster, Victoria's streets were being macadamized, gaslights were operating, a free common school had been established, and all butcher shops, tanneries, and slaughterhouses were located outside the city limits. Soon, even an observatory was to be constructed.

  If union was advised, and the Crown representatives took all of these civil improvements into consideration when reviewing the ledgers, there was no question which city was better suited to become capital of the province, or which governor should head the expanded colony.

  What a life! His political position was sound, his daughters were safely confined to their rooms, and a beautiful, fascinating, and intelligent woman was wai
ting eagerly for him. Godamercy! How he wanted that woman. He snapped the whip again. The mare extended its strides, kicking up billows of dust and leaving a brown cloud scudding behind. Ah... to feel Sarah in his arms, her eager lips on his… The thought was driving him wild.

  He snapped the whip again. The mare was trotting as if she were on a Sunday outing. Rounding the bend, he caught sight of the cottage. Pulling the mare to a halt, he lunged from the buggy, tied up the mare, rushed onto the porch swept open the door, then froze when he found Sarah bent over a trunk... packing!

  Her sewing machines were gone, the tables dismantled, and three trunks appeared to be packed. She looked at him, said nothing, and continued packing without so much as a greeting. This was definitely not the welcome he'd expected. Obviously, she had not been waiting breathlessly to be in his arms. "Did you locate a building?" he asked.

  "No,” she replied. “I'm moving to New Westminster." She continued to pack the trunk, not so much as looking at him.

  "What do you mean... you're moving?"

  "Just what I said. You and everyone else around here have made it impossible for me to remain in Victoria, so I'm moving to New Westminster where I can make a fresh start."

  "Something happened while I was away. What was it?"

  "Nothing happened except that I had a week to think about things, about us, and about what I want. And I want to leave Victoria. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must keep packing as I have booked passage on the Eliza Anderson for tomorrow afternoon." Sarah started around him.

  Jon shot out a hand and took her arm. "You can't just walk away from me. I won't let you."