by Jane Peart
Her hands trembling, Noramary fastened the brooch to the shoulder of her gown, then slipped the earrings into her earlobes. The deep color of the jewels, caught in the light from the candles on the dressing table, shimmered like claret wine in crystal or… more like heart’s blood, for her own heart seemed to be bleeding. Would Duncan never speak to her with tenderness nor look at her with love again? It seemed a cruel reality.
At Cameron Hall Noramary mounted the steps eagerly, grateful that their silent ride in the forced intimacy of the carriage was over.
Jacqueline greeted her affectionately, exclaiming over her, complimenting her costume. Looking at Duncan, she shook her finger playfully.
“Shame on you, Duncan, for not bringing Noramary over to visit us more often! Do you keep her prisoner at Montclair, for your pleasure alone?”
Duncan looked uncomfortable, but Jacqueline never noticed. She was too busy signaling one of the maids to take their cloaks. Then, slipping her arm companionably through Noramary’s, she insisted on taking her around personally to meet the other guests.
The house was beautifully decorated for the occasion. Garlands of galax leaves were wound between the banisters of the curved center staircase, crimson ribbons tied at the posts. Vases of nandina, cedar and pittosporum, and shiny holly boughs bright with berries, adorned every table. On the mantelpiece were vivid arrangements of pine cones, evergreens, and candles, and in the dining room, where candles shone in crystal-prismed holders, a wreath of fruit, bayberry, nuts, and cones centered the polished mahogany table set for sixteen.
For all the gaiety that surrounded her, Noramary found herself hard put to keep a smiling face. All her anticipation of this evening, her hopeful expectation that it might be a turning point in her relationship with Duncan, faded in the face of his indifference. He kept his distance from her and spent the entire evening talking with others, ignoring her completely.
When dinner was served, Noramary found herself seated at James Cameron’s right, with Duncan far down the table beside Jacqueline. The table was laden, the dishes grown in the plantation’s gardens and orchards. Noramary, distracted as she was, could only pick at the succulent food before her.
For Noramary, the evening lengthened interminably as an endless round of toasts began. It seemed each gentleman felt obligated to offer a toast, not only to the ladies present, but to each couple as well. Noramary’s apprehension mounted as Duncan’s turn approached, though it was James Cameron’s toast she dreaded most.
James had been flatteringly attentive throughout the dinner hour, telling Noramary what a blessing she was to Duncan, how happy his friends were that his lonely bachelorhood was ended, that he had taken to wife such a beautiful bride. As he got to his feet to propose the next toast, Noramary felt herself go rigid.
“My dear and honored guests—I want to propose a toast to a special man, one whom I regard as my closest friend, my neighbor,” he began, raising his glass. “Duncan Montrose, of Montclair.
“Montclair has always been esteemed for its splendid crops, its fine horses, its excellent hospitality—” He paused as “Hear! Hear!” and the tinkling of silver being gently tapped against the wine goblets rose in chorus from the company; James continued—“From now on it should be known for its beautiful mistress as well.… To Noramary!” The gentlemen rose to their feet as one, lifting their glasses to her, and a murmur of approval circled the table. She colored prettily, wishing nothing so much as to disappear.
But the judge was not finished. He turned in Duncan’s direction and bowed slightly. “My fervent wish is that, in the years to come, there will be many children to bless this charming couple and to fill their home with great joy.”
Noramary’s hand, holding a long-stemmed goblet, began to tremble. His words numbed every thought except to know what Duncan was thinking and feeling. She controlled the impulse to steal a quick glance his way, see his reaction.
But she had no opportunity, for James was leaning toward her, diverting her attention. In a stage-whisper he asked mischievously, “Can you guess what Jacqueline has planned for tonight’s entertainment?”
Trying to appear interested, she listened politely. As a memento of the evening, each guest would carry home a profile of himself or herself, cut from black paper by a professional silhouettist. It was a skilled art, and the guests were delighted when the plan was announced.
“What fun!” exclaimed one of the ladies to Noramary. “I’ve always wanted to have my silhouette done. They’re really quite an amazing likeness, I understand.”
Noramary watched with fascination as the little man carefully surveyed his subject with narrowed, measuring eyes. Then, folding a sheet of black paper, he began to cut with sharp scissors, turning the paper carefully in his hands as he snipped. It was an astonishing thing to see.
Before she was quite prepared, it was Noramary’s turn to sit for the artist. Because everyone gathered around the subject, watching the master silhouettist at work, she struggled to overcome her natural reluctance to be the center of attention, However, she decided if the portrait turned out well, it would make a nice Christmas gift for her aunt and uncle.
She took her seat as instructed, her body turned so that a lighted candelabrum threw her profile sharply against the white wall of the paneled parlor wainscoting.
“Ah, what an enchanting profile!” said the artist, and for a few minutes there was absolute silence as he worked.
When he had finished, he held it up for Noramary to see, then quickly dabbed some mucilage from a small pot beside him and applied the silhouette to a stark white stiffened paper board. “Voila!”
Jacqueline leaned over Noramary’s shoulder to admire the artistry. “It’s lovely, Noramary—a surprising likeness, don’t you agree?”
“Perhaps I shall give it to my aunt and uncle for Christmas,” Noramary said.
“I notice you cut two at the same time, Monsieur Varny,” Jacqueline remarked.
“Yes, it is my custom. Two thicknesses provide a firmer material with which to cut,” he explained.
“May I have the extra one of my friend, then?” Jacqueline asked, smiling at Noramary.
Shortly afterward, Duncan appeared. “It’s time for us to go. I’ll wait here while you get your cloak, then we’ll say our good nights and be on our way.”
The words were so terse, so unlike Duncan’s former courteous consideration of her, that Noramary felt again the wound of their estrangement. But she went to get her cloak and muff, pausing only long enough to gain her composure before returning to the drawing room.
At least she had something to look forward to, something pleasant to occupy her thoughts on the ride home, she reminded herself: She and Duncan would be going to Williamsburg for the holidays. He had promised Aunt Betsy. Surely he would keep his promise.
chapter
17
SINCE IT WAS a Christmas Day tradition at Montclair for the master to distribute gifts—bolts of bright calico, indigo cloth, new hats and scarves, jugs of molasses, flour, and candy—to the servants, Noramary and Duncan did not leave for Williamsburg until the following day.
The entourage left Montclair before daybreak, and even though the country roads were rutted by winter rains and hardened by freezing weather, they made good time.
There was the hint of snow in the crisp air of the December dusk when their carriage rumbled through the streets of Williamsburg, and Noramary’s heart lifted with anticipation.
As die coachman slowed the horses to a more sedate pace through the residential part of town, Noramary felt a surge of nostalgia at the sight of the lighted candles in the windows. Here, at least, things were as they had always been. Families gathering to share the happy season, carolers raising voices in familiar hymns at each door, party-goers on their way to holiday festivities. At Christmas, Williamsburg was at its best.
When they passed a house marked by a wooden sign at the gatepost: HUGH STEDD, PHYSICIAN, Noramary’s heart pinched sharply. Th
e familiar figure of Robert’s uncle emerging from the front door brought a rush of memories—memories too dear, too sweet not to recall.
Noramary had locked away thoughts of Robert as the bittersweet keepsakes of a love best forgotten, but recently, in her loneliness, she found herself thinking of the past, of Robert, of the innocent love they had shared.
As they drew up in front of the Barnwells’, Noramary was already on the edge of her seat, ready to alight as soon as the carriage door swung open. But Duncan put out a restraining hand, enclosing her wrist in a hard grasp.
“I hope I do not need to remind you that our private difficulties should remain just that,” Duncan said in a voice intense with warning. “I don’t know how much of a confidante either your aunt or your cousins are to you; however, I do not wish to have our problems discussed with anyone. Is that understood?”
Stricken by the harshness of his words, Noramary was momentarily shaken. When she could speak, her voice trembled.
“I understand what you are saying, Duncan, even though I still do not understand why! Whatever has made you so angry with me?” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Duncan, it’s Christmas, a time for forgiveness, for joy, for love. In the spirit of this blessed season let us forgive one another, let us love…”
His grip only tightened on her arm. This time his tone gritty with irony.
“Must I repeat myself, Noramary? Can you not understand that to all appearances we are a happily married couple, home for the holidays?”
Noramary closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and looked at Duncan with sorrow. “Yes, Duncan, I do understand,” she said wearily.
She did not have time to say anything mote, for at that moment the carriage door was opened, and at the same time the Barnwells’ door flung wide, enveloping them both in the cheery glow from the house. The excited welcoming cries of Sally and Susann as they bounded down the steps for a hug were followed quickly by Laura, then Aunt Betsy and Uncle Will’s glad greetings. All swept Noramary up in comforting warmth.
But there was more for Noramary to endure, to accept with a bravado she could not feel. Over the clamor and chatter of her little cousins’ welcome, Duncan’s words to her aunt and uncle fell like stunning blows.
“I shall be staying at our townhouse while we’re in Williamsburg,” he was saying. “I have some pressing business to attend to while I’m here—lawyers to consult about some recent land acquisitions and… some other matters. My hours will be erratic. I felt it would be best to spare your household this inconvenience, Aunt Betsy.”
This, then, was Duncan’s solution to the problem of sharing a room with her! Noramary realized, with a sinking heart, that there would be no reconciliation during this festive holiday, after all.
Though she was not sure her aunt and uncle believed Duncan’s explanation, they accepted it graciously. So, as Duncan had requested, Noramary played her role of a wife home for a visit, hiding her secret sorrow under a smile and a cheerful countenance.
On New Year’s Eve, as was their custom, the entire Barnwell family attended the early evening church service. Sitting beside Duncan in the family pew, Noramary was overcome with sadness. In this church… at that very altar… they had pledged their hearts and lives “from this day forward” in the sight of God and the gathered company of friends and loved ones.
There had been a promise of love in Duncan’s eyes men, Noramary remembered, where now there was veiled contempt, almost as if he could not bear the sight of her. He stood a breath away from her as they rose to sing the opening hymn, but he might as well have been a thousand miles distant.
Noramary tried to control the urge to weep by focusing on the beautifully decorated interior. This little chruch so like the small stone chapel near Monksmoor Priory, meant so much to her. In that other time and place, Nanny Oates had taken her as a very little girl to morning services and vespers.
Upon arriving in Virginia, suddenly surrounded by everything unfamiliar, Noramary had found a sense of identification in the recognizable ritual, the scent of candles, the old songs. It was here, when all else was confusion and frightening, that Noramary had found that comfort and true peace “that passeth understanding.”
As the service proceeded, Noramary realized how much she had missed going to church regularly since moving to the country. When she needed it most, she had been deprived of this kind of strengthening help.
The music seemed particularly melodious and inspiring, the sermon appropriate and thoughtful. Yet, because of her inner turmoil, Noramary felt bereft. Her mind wandered and all she could seem to relate to was one brave, sputtering candle among all the other steadily burning candles, struggling not to go out. Like me, she thought, her throat aching with unshed tears, just trying to survive!
Duncan said they must return to Montclair on New Year’s Day, explaining to the Barnwells that duties awaited him at the plantation. But there would be one last event before they left—a New Year’s Eve party at the Langley home.
Noramary had brought the crimson velvet dress she wore to the Camerons’ Christmas party, and some of the old excitement returned as she dressed for the evening. She took great pains with her hair and, at Laura’s suggestion, wore it piled high, with curls falling behind each ear.
When she fastened in the ruby earrings Duncan insisted she bring to Williamsburg, Laura gasped, “My goodness, Noramary! I never saw such jewels! They are magnificent!”
“The Montrose Bridal Set,” she explained in a toneless voice. “It’s traditional for Montrose wives to wear them on special occasions.”
Laura touched the brooch with a tentative finger. “Diamonds and rubies… they must be priceless!”
Noramary gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Like the valiant wife?”
Laura looked blank.
Noramary shook a playful finger at her cousin. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all the Proverbs we had to memorize! Remember 31:10? ‘Who shall find a valiant wife, for her price is above rubies’?”
“And so you are!” responded Laura loyally. “Duncan must know how fortunate he is. Well, they’re gorgeous and will look perfect with your gown. Don’t keep him waiting too much longer!” And blowing Noramary a kiss, she skipped gaily out of the room.
When Noramary came downstairs moments later she found Duncan, looking splendid in a royal-blue jacket, black breeches, white ruffles at throat and wrist, waiting for her. Uncle Will was also in the hall.
“How lovely you look, my dear!” declared her uncle. “Duncan should be the proudest gentleman in all of Williamsburg tonight, escorting such a beauty.”
She darted a quick glance at Duncan, who made no comment at all, although his eyes swept her from the top of her head to the tips of her tiny, satin-shod feet.
A short coach ride later, they arrived at the Langleys’ doorstep, where the sound of spritely music and light-hearted laughter floated out into the crisp December night air.
In the entry hall one of the scarlet-coated servants helped them off with their wraps. Noramary felt her heart lift as she and Laura, like two moths drawn to a flame, followed the flow of music to the doorway of the ballroom.
Tapping her foot to the lively lilt of the music, Noramary was intent on watching the musicians perform when suddenly Laura clutched her arm and said under her breath, “Why, there’s Robert Stedd! I didn’t know he and his uncle had returned. They’ve been in England and Scotland since last fall. Robert is to attend medical school in Edinburgh, I understand.”
Noramary felt as if she had turned to stone. All the noise of merriment, the shimmering candlelight, the music and dancers all seemed to dissolve, leaving her alone with only the echo of her heart’s wild beating.
Robert! The possibility of running into Robert here at the Langleys’ party had not even occurred to her. She vaguely remembered Aunt Betsy’s mentioning, in one of her letters, the fact that he and his uncle had gone to England. But since then, her own life and its unexpected complicatio
ns had occupied her attention.
Suddenly Noramary was aware of Duncan standing directly behind her and, at the same time, of Robert catching sight of her as he turned to speak to a friend.
The orchestra started up again, this time for the Roger de Coverly, the riotous reel Virginia had adapted for itself from the more sedate English version of the dance.
“Would you do me the honor, ma’am?” she heard Duncan ask Aunt Betsy.
“With the greatest pleasure!” replied her aunt, who still liked to dance.
Noramary frozen in uncertainty, saw Duncan lead her aunt onto the floor. Laura was quickly claimed by a partner, and Noramary found herself standing alone, riveted by Robert’s intense gaze. And now he was making his way toward her.
He moved with the same easy grace she remembered, but in his stylish English-tailored clothes he had lost his boyish look. His expression was serious as he approached. No smile softened the gravity of his mouth. Only his eyes spoke volumes as he came closer. Then he was standing in front of her and, with a kind of ache that bruised Noramary’s tender heart, she realized Robert looked older. But then she was older, too. It was a long time ago since last spring when they had both been very young.
Frantically Noramary’s eyes moved around the room, seeking an escape. But before she could flee, Robert was speaking her name softly, fervently.
“Noramary… what unbelievable luck to find you here.”
All the old emotions rushed up in Noramary. All the memories merged into a dizzying blur. All the happy times they had known together as beloved companions—sharing, laughing, teasing, confiding, dreaming, planning, the hidden notes, the secret meetings. It had all been so innocent, so carefree, so loving.
Feeling that many eyes must be observing this reunion, Noramary’s breath came shallowly as she held out her hand to him. Robert took it, raised it to his lips.