by Jane Peart
Duncan laughed at her nonsense. “I’m glad it pleases you. So then, what have you been doing with yourself while I’ve been gone?”
“For one thing, I’ve accomplished quite a bit on my sampler,” Noramary announced much like a little girl reporting on her schoolwork. Still fluttering her new fan, she walked over to the frame and tapped it with her fingers. “It’s almost finished.”
“I shall have to examine it. I understand a sampler is supposed to be representative of a young lady’s achievements in needlework as well as a revelation of her ideals, her thoughts, and her spiritual state.” His voice held a teasing quality, although he maintained a serious expression.
“Come see for yourself!” Noramary challenged.
He walked over to the tapestry frame and with great solemnity appeared to be studying it carefully.
The sampler was uniquely the story of Noramarys life thus far. At the top she had outlined Monksmoor Priory, her childhood home, and the date of her birth. Coming to Virginia by ship had, at the time, been the single most important event in Noramarys life, so she had traced the “Fairwinds” in colorful yarn. Next she had added her rendition of the Barnwells’ yellow clapboard house and a row of flowers, new to her, found in the garden there. All these symbolized her new life in America. Recently she had stitched an outline of Montclair and added to her signature, Noramary MARSH, the letters of her new married name— MONTROSE.
Duncan slowly read the words aloud, placing significant emphasis on the last name. He looked up and smiled at her. Then he continued, reading the Scripture verse she had worked on during the last week: “Delight thyself in the Lord; and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart—Psalm 37:4.”
The candlelight softened the angular planes of his face as he regarded Noramary silently. “And what are the desires of your heart, Noramary?”
She returned his steady gaze, her eyes sweetly grave. “My heart’s desire is to please God, Duncan, and you,” she said at length, lowering her head so that he could not see into her eyes through the dark veil of her lashes. “To be your wife… in every sense of the word… to belong to you… really belong. That is the desire of my heart.”
Almost as if speaking to himself, he said, “That has been the desire of my heart, too.”
At his words a sudden joy seized Noramary and tears sprang to her eyes. She saw Duncan’s face and realized that it was true.
If she were his second choice, the substitute of the bride he had first desired, she no longer cared. At that moment the past seemed to fade away, and only the growing eagerness to love and be loved dwelled in her heart.
She held out her arms to him, tenderness and expectation spreading through her in a warm, enveloping glory. He drew her to him, enclosing her in his arms, his chin resting atop her silky head.
“Darling Noramary, you have made me happier than I ever dreamed possible.”
Her slender body swayed closer and, sighing her name, he gathered her to him.
chapter
15
AT DAYBREAK the distant sounds of birdsong broke the stillness. Pale light, filtering through the louvered shutters of the windows, banished the night shadows.
In the large canopy bed Duncan stirred and awakened, propping himself on one elbow to observe his still sleeping wife. He was not sure how long he had slept, nor what had disturbed his slumber, but something had roused him.
Just at that moment Noramary moved restlessly. Her head turned from side to side; a frown drew the smooth brow into a pucker. Duncan leaned closer, but could not understand the words she was mumbling.
Poor darling, he thought. Having a bad dream perhaps. He touched her shoulder, gently pressing it. At his touch she uttered a few incoherent words, and with her eyes still closed, reached up and drew his head down against her breast.
Duncan’s arms went around her, holding her close. “I’m here, darling,” he whispered comfortingly. “Dearest Noramary, I love you.”
Noramary smiled as if with some secret joy. “And I love you.…”
At the name she whispered, shock like a saber thrust pierced Duncan’s heart. It reverberated in his brain, settled into his consciousness.
Robert! I love you, Robert! Robert?
Who was this Robert whose name Noramary had spoken with such passionate tenderness? Noramary, to whom he had opened himself with a surrender, an intensity he had never thought possible. Noramary, in whom all his inner loneliness had been assuaged. Noramary, with whom he had found an ecstasy beyond his wildest imagining. She had deceived him! She had dreamed of another man while in his—Duncan’s— arms! Robert.
Stiffly he loosened Noramary’s clinging arms, withdrew himself from her embrace, and dragged himself from the bed. His hands clenched into fists as he stood staring down at her in a kind of disbelief that she could look so innocent—her dark hair, feathered out against the white linen pillow; her cheeks, flushed with sleep; her lips, slightly parted as if expecting to be kissed.
The blood roared in Duncan’s temples; his heart thudded heavily; he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. In his mouth he tasted the bitter gall of disillusionment. How quickly their joy had turned into a kind of heartsick despair.
He dragged on his clothes, moving wearily, like a man twice his age. He pulled on his boots and walked over to the fireplace. The fire that had glowed so brightly when he and Noramary had entered the bedroom the night before was now a heap of crumbled logs, mostly ashes. Like his own hopes and dreams, he thought dully.
Duncan felt a tremor of suppressed fury course through his veins.
How could he have been so deceived? So taken in by her apparent innocence. What a clever actress, how devious.
He thought of their courtship during the summer just past, how restrained he had behaved with her, never taking the slightest advantage, afraid he might importune her delicate nature, frighten her if he revealed the depth of his love and desire for her.
And all the while, perhaps even up until the wedding day, she had been seeing, perhaps carrying on a clandestine affair with this—this Robert, whose name she had uttered with such tenderness. Duncan felt cheated, betrayed by his own emotions as well as the falseness of the one to whom he had allowed himself to be so vulnerable.
More fool he! And what was God’s design for them now?
Duncan put on his jacket, searched for his neckpiece which he had carelessly dropped somewhere last night in his haste. As he moved about, he stumbled against the small candle table and set it to rocking noisily.
Noramary awakened. Coming slowly out of a happy dream of childhood days, she raised herself on her elbows and looked around drowsily. Still half-asleep, she was smiling, for her dream had been the first one for months not plagued with sad memories or vain regrets. She had dreamed of the days when she and Robert had played together, along with the Barnwell girls—a time when they had all been young, carefree, unburdened.
Seeing Duncan, Noramary felt the newly awakened love for him like an embracing warmth.
“Duncan,” she called, sitting up and holding out her arms to him.
Duncan whirled around, steeling himself not to succumb at the sight of her—the tumbled dark waves falling about her sleep-rosy face, the smile trembling on her lips.
“Duncan?”
This time it was a tentative appeal, her eyes widened at his fixed stare. She shivered involuntarily and huddled under the covers, drawing them up to her chin. “What is it, Duncan? Is something the matter?”
Noramary waited for him to speak. When Duncan made no move toward her, she remained poised in a questioning attitude, trying to read the cold anger his eyes seemed to hold.
What could she possibly have done to deserve that look of withering scorn? Noramary searched his face, seeking some reassurance for the sudden coldness she saw in his eyes.
The chilling silence was finally broken when Duncan, visibly suppressing rage, spoke in a toneless voice.
“I have only a few things to say to you, m
adam, and they are of immense importance. First, I believe we can both agree that I never importuned you nor unduly pressured you to consummate our marriage.”
An unknown fear gripped Noramary as, bewildered, yet she dreaded hearing what he was going to say next.
“Whatever you chose not to reveal to me before our marriage was your privilege. However, it is inexcusable that you would pretend a passion you did not feel, when there was another man in your life. You have profaned the vows we took together, vows which I held sacred.
“It was clearly understood by me that you entered into this marriage of your own free will, under no duress from me or your aunt and uncle. Now I have reason to believe that I have been doubly deceived.”
A frightened Noramary gave a protesting cry, but Duncan cut her short. With clenched teeth he spoke harshly. “But we have made a commitment, you and I, a pledge, promises made before God and witnesses. These shall remain. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, we are pledged to each other for life. I shall never break that bond. You are my wife and shall always be, but… our marriage will be in fact what it has become, a mere facade; in reality, the sham you have made it.”
His voice was hoarse, and the mouth that had lingered so lovingly on hers twisted into a cruel line.
With that, Duncan turned and stalked toward the door.
Noramary, who had been paralyzed by the flood of Duncan’s angry words, threw back the covers and jumped out of bed, running after him on bare feet. Recklessly, she grabbed hold of his sleeve.
“Wait! Duncan, wait!” she pleaded. “I don’t understand. What have I done? Why are you so angry with me?”
“For God’s sake, Noramary…” He paused significantly. “Yes… for God’s sake, and mine, don’t make it any worse!”
He shook off her clutching hands and strode out of the room without a backward glance.
Part III
Wrath is cruel, and anger is
outrageous; but who is able to stand
before envy? Open rebuke is better
than secret love.
Proverbs 27:4—5
chapter
16
FOR WEEKS AFTERWARD, Noramary relived that dreadful scene, and the one that took place later that same evening. Neither seemed real to her.
When Duncan stormed out of the bedroom, leaving her in anguished bewilderment, Noramary collapsed in spasms of uncontrollable weeping. What had she said, what had she done to deserve Duncan’s heartless rejection?
All her new happiness, the joy he had awakened in her at the passionately tender lovemaking was replaced with a numbing emptiness. That beautiful flame that had touched both of them burning so brightly, yet so briefly, was gone. Destroyed by some reason known only to Duncan.
The rest of that day she had wandered about the house as if in a trance of misery, waiting for Duncan’s return to plead with him again for an explanation.
But when he walked into the house, he gave her only a cold glance and walked straight into the drawing room without greeting her.
She followed him, saying, “Duncan, we must talk.”
“Well?” Duncan demanded impatiently. “What do we have to talk about?”
“Please,” she said in a low voice, “I do not care to be overheard.” Noramary inclined her head slightly toward the dining room, where the maids were setting the table for dinner.
“Very well. Come in then.”
She entered the drawing room, closing the French doors behind her. He stood facing her, frowning, slapping his riding gloves on his palm, his whole attitude intimidating. But Noramary was too desperate not to attempt some understanding.
Determined to pursue the mystifying cause until she got an answer, she asked as quietly and calmly as she could manage, “Duncan, I must know what I have done to anger you so. How can I apologize if I don’t know…?”
But he interrupted her, “I thought I made myself clear this morning. I have nothing more to say. The subject is distasteful in the extreme to me, and I will not discuss it further.”
Rebuffed, Noramary struggled not to lose her composure. But when she spoke, her voice betrayed her emotion. “If you will not give me the chance to defend myself, what is there for me to do? Nothing left for me but to assume that you deeply regret the agreement you made with my aunt and uncle to marry me; that, for some reason, you now, desperately wish you’d never accepted a substitute bride.”
Getting no answer, Noramary turned to leave.
“One moment, madam.” Duncan’s command halted her as her hand touched the door handle. “I will be gone most of the time for the next ten days or so. The tobacco crop is being harvested and I must oversee its cutting, drying and tying at the other end of the plantation. So, do not expect me for dinner in the evenings. If I should come, have my meal served on a tray in the office.”
Her back still to him, Noramary asked, “Is that all then?”
“One thing more, madam. You may rest assured that I will never again assume my so-called marital rights. As far as I am concerned, we live under this roof as man and wife—in name only.”
Noramary, biting back the tears that threatened to blind her, opened the double doors and, holding herself erect, walked out to the hall. She could not see the sudden slump of Duncan’s broad shoulders as he watched her small, dignified figure disappearing through the door into the master bedroom.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of meaningless days and sleepless nights for Noramary. Day after day she searched her mind and heart, trying to discover the key that would unlock the source of Duncan’s blind rage.
Janet’s words came back to Noramary tauntingly. Her description of her brother’s “ruthless unforgiveness when betrayed” took on new meaning. If Duncan, for whatever reason, thought she had betrayed him, how could they ever be reconciled?
A pervasive gloom hung over Montclair, diminishing the cheerfulness Noramary’s endearing personality had brought to the household. The servants seemed to feel it, too, and went about their daily work as if on tiptoe. Ellen, from whom Noramary found it difficult to conceal anything, observed her mistress with characteristic sharpness, and set her mouth in a tight line as Noramary’s growing unhappiness became more apparent. But Noramary, unable to explain to herself what had happened, could confide in no one.
Feeling lonely and abandoned, Noramary threw herself on her only hope, her faith that God had brought her to Montclair for His purposes and, no matter how it might appear, would continue to uphold her if she trusted Him. Even as she wept, on her knees, face buried in her hands, she told herself He was always true to His Word, and clung desperately to the Scripture promise: “I will never fail thee nor forsake thee.” It was her lifeline, that thin thread holding her back from the brink of despair.
November, with its bleak, gray days, brought with it a dreary sameness that Noramary found almost unbearable. The strain of the estrangement imposed by Duncan was gradually wearing her down.
Then something happened to break the awful monotony of Noramary’s days and shed a ray of light on the darkness that had threatened to engulf her. An invitation to the annual pre-Christmas party came from Cameron Hall. Noramary received it with delight. But if she had entertained any hopes that the prospect of a social outing at Cameron Hall would soften Duncan’s attitude or thaw his unremitting coldness toward her, they were dashed at once by his indifferent comment.
“Well, I suppose we have to go,” he said with a shrug. “We can’t offend my best friends, but I have no taste for it.” And he turned away.
In spite of her disappointment at Duncan’s reaction, Noramary continued to hope that once in the festive atmosphere at Cameron Hall, seeing friends and neighbors alive with the holiday spirit, Duncan might realize the pointlessness in maintaining his stubborn silence. How could anything breach the rift that daily widened between them unless he told her the source of it?
All she could do was try, Noramary decided. She would look her best and pray that the a
ffection he had once felt for her might be revived. That as Scripture exhorted, “a wife’s sweet spirit” might win over her husband.
And, on the night of the Camerons’ party, if Noramary were to believe the adoring Delva, she did indeed look her loveliest. The dress she was wearing was not one of Winnie’s cast-offs but had been a gift from Aunt Betsy. Cut from a length of crimson velvet, its low, square neckline was edged with lace stiffened with gilt; the underskirt and draped paniers, of brocaded satin.
“Jes’ wait “til the Marster sees you!” declared Delva. “He’ll be that proud!”
If only… thought Noramary wistfully.
Just as she was putting the finishing touches on her hair, there was a tap on the door from Duncan’s dressing room. Surprised, Noramary turned from her mirror expectantly. He had not entered the bedroom for all these weeks.
Noramary held her breath as Duncan, looking handsome in a dark broadcloth coat, buff knee britches, and ruffled shirt, stepped in. He brought from behind his back the jewel case Noramary recognized as containing the Montrose rubies. She had not worn them since the night of Janet’s farewell party.
Perhaps this was a gesture on Duncan’s part to bridge the chasm of their estrangement. Her heart fluttered hopefully. But one look at his stony countenance killed that foolish notion.
“For you to wear tonight,” he said brusquely. “The rubies.”
“Oh, I was not sure you’d want me to wear them,” she said in a low, controlled voice. She had left off the betrothal ring in the past weeks, feeling it was a farce. She now felt the same about the rubies.
“It is simply that people will expect to see them tonight,” he said and paused. “As soon as you’re ready, we can leave,” he called over his shoulder as he turned away.
Wordlessly Noramary watched him walk back into his dressing room. Quickly gathering her injured pride around her like a ragged shawl, she felt Delva’s eyes upon her, she tried to hide her hurt. It wouldn’t do to give the servants more to gossip about.