Destinations

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  William turned to one side and with a sweeping motion of his hand, invited Lavonia to enter the adjacent room before him. Taking his cue, she entered the parlor and situated herself on one side of the mahogany bench.

  “May I?”

  Answering her affirmative nod, he sat beside her. Closer than ever to her, he inhaled a whiff of the rose scent that he had begun to associate with her. As he delighted in the aroma and the vision of Lavonia, he looked into her eyes. “I have a confession to make. Though I did want to see your sister, I had another reason for calling today.”

  “Another reason?”

  “I have something for you.”

  “For me?”

  He nodded. His heart rate increased and he suddenly felt nervous. Swallowing, he withdrew a white slip of paper. “I wrote this last night.”

  Lifting his gaze to Lavonia’s face for an instant, he saw her blue eyes widen with curiosity and—was it?—anticipation. He felt his stomach lurch in a way it hadn’t since his adolescent years. He almost wished he hadn’t mentioned the poem to Lavonia, but her intense stare told him it was too late to change his mind.

  He began reading the small, well-formed cursive letters:

  I met an angel here today

  Comforting her sister’s heart.

  She knew not that she pierced mine own.

  Or how it cries when we must part—

  William looked upon Lavonia with a bat of his eyelid, enough time to gauge her response, yet not long enough to let her speak. Her milky features, already soft, had grown even more so. Her eyes were so alight, they seemed to contain all the stars in a midnight sky. Her pink lips were parted as if they wanted to taste his sweet words. Well-kept hands were clasped to her chest, making him wonder if they were trying to hold his poem in her heart.

  Her obviously favorable response gave him courage. He had opened his mouth to begin the second stanza when he heard Helen’s voice.

  “Stop right there, Doctor.”

  Both of them snapped their heads in Helen’s direction. She was standing in the doorway of the parlor, her arms folded across her chest, concealing part of the bodice on her sky blue morning dress.

  “What, pray tell, is happening here?”

  As if the motion would strengthen her, Lavonia stood. “William was just reading me a poem—”

  “A poem?” She paused. “By whom?”

  Feeling the tension, William opted for levity. “Certainly not Shakespeare.”

  Helen’s narrowed eyes indicated she was in no mood for humor. “If what I heard is any indication, I quite agree.” She cut her glance to Lavonia. “Would you like to tell me what has been happening here?”

  Lavonia shrugged. “The doctor was merely reading me a bit of poetry.” Her voice was pitched an octave higher than normal.

  “Please, let there be no trouble here.” William rose from his seat as he folded the paper and returned it to his pocket. “Forgive me for upsetting you, Mrs. Syms. That was never my intent.”

  “Perhaps that was not your intent, but it was certainly the result! I will not have you toying with my cousin.” Turning to one side, she motioned for him to leave. “Good day, Doctor. You know your way to the door.”

  eight

  William didn’t argue. Rising from the bench, he bid them both a courteous “Good day,” then strode to the exit, his shoulders erect and his head held high.

  The longing look he cast toward Lavonia just before he reached the parlor door told her she would see him again. Yet upon seeing him leave, she felt a sudden pull in her heart.

  Helen cast his departing figure a withering stare as the front door shut with a thud. “Good day, indeed. I should say, Allez-vous-en!”

  “He will not go away no matter how much you ask,” Lavonia told her, “or whether the language be French or English.”

  “Is that so?” Helen waved her fan in front of her face with rapid motions, despite the spring chill that clung to the room.

  “Why are you so vexed, Helen? I should think you would want me to find a suitor here, since you told me yourself that you think me ill suited for pioneer life in America.” She watched Helen’s fan move back and forth as her face took on a most disagreeable expression. A sudden thought occurred to Lavonia. “Why, Helen! If I did not know better, I would think you were jealous!”

  “Jaloux! Mais non, ma cherie! I am concerned only for you.”

  Lavonia wasn’t convinced. “Concerned for me? But why?”

  Walking toward the bench, Helen made a motion to sit beside Lavonia. Then, cringing as though she didn’t wish to occupy the place just vacated by Dr. Amory, she positioned herself instead upon the nearby sofa. Crossing her legs, she cupped her hands over her upper knee. Her fan, held by a red ribbon, dangled from the little finger of her right hand. “Our doctor has been well acquainted with many women. An innocent such as yourself is easy prey.”

  “I am not entirely without knowledge of the world.” As soon as she blurted her defense, Lavonia wished she could take back her words.

  “Then you are prepared for the wiles of Dr. Amory?” Lifting her chin, Helen looked down her nose at Lavonia.

  “Wiles?” Lavonia chuckled. “Can a man not read a poem to a woman without everyone thinking he’s a suitor?”

  “Not that type of poem.”

  “How do you know? Your interruption caused him to cease reading to the end.”

  “Perhaps,” Helen agreed, though her tone wasn’t conciliatory. “Nevertheless, he knows you would make him an excellent match, Lavonia.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “The doctor knows you are my cousin. And he is aware you have recently come out of full mourning for the deaths of both your parents. Perhaps he has guessed you will be inheriting a large fortune. And now that his benefactor has expired, certainly he could make good use of the money.”

  “So you believe he is pursuing me for my money?”

  “I do not mean to be hurtful, Lavonia. And I do hope I am wrong about his wanting you for your fortune. You have so much to offer. Your wit, your beauty, just to name two. Any man would be lucky to make a match with you. If marrying you at least in part because of your fortune is the doctor’s plan, he would be most opportunistic indeed.” Helen let out a sigh. “But what can one expect of someone of unknown lineage?”

  “I fail to see your point.”

  Helen looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. “Why, he has a benefactor. Does that not tell you anything?”

  Lavonia thought for a moment. “And what disgrace is that? Helen, one of Father’s missions was to help parentless children. He used his connections to find homes for many orphans.”

  “And what was his reward?” she asked.

  “The joy he brought to many childless couples was reward enough on this earth, although I have no doubt he shall be awarded a jewel on his heavenly crown for each person he assisted,” Lavonia answered. “My, but he must have many jewels! Who knows how many people he helped? Why, I recall a time when a young man who wanted to attend Cam-bridge stopped by, asking Father if he could assist with his tuition. When Father discovered he wished to pursue the ministry, he agreed to help.”

  “My dear uncle must have enjoyed great respect as a result.”

  “Au contraire. When he discovered I overheard the conversation, he was so embarrassed, he ordered me not to tell a soul. When I asked why, he reminded me that Jesus said that in matters of charity, ‘let not your right hand know what your left is doing.’ I kept my promise and did not tell a soul until this moment. And though I witnessed that act of generosity by happenstance, I suspect there were many others. As you know, he was an educated man. He wanted knowledge to be used to help others.”

  “If your father were here today, I wonder what he would say about William, about whether his benefactor made a good choice in helping him.”

  “Father put his trust in the Lord to decide whom to help. Anyone he chose would, of course, have stellar quali
ties.”

  “No doubt. But he was not William’s benefactor.” She gave Lavonia a meaningful look. “I would be reticent to rush into a betrothal with Dr. Amory.”

  “But no one has said he plans to marry me. No betrothal, or even courtship, was mentioned by either of us.”

  “Perhaps not aloud.” Helen’s right eyebrow arched, her way of showing disapproval. “But are you not the least bit anxious about his uncertain parentage?”

  Had Helen not been serious, Lavonia would have found her concern amusing. Her own father, by his example of respect for people of all stations and classes, had taught her to place little value or emphasis on parentage. She hadn’t appreciated his unique outlook until she became an adult, and society began imposing its expectations upon her. Recalling the world’s bankrupt values, Lavonia cringed.

  She knew Helen expected her to be shocked. In fact, Helen probably wanted her to denounce the doctor as a fraud and a cad. Weeping, followed by a delicate intake of breath before falling to the floor unconscious, would have been a performance sure to please and delight her cousin. Unwilling to give in to Helen’s expectation, Lavonia stalled.

  “Uncertain parentage? Whatever do you mean?”

  Helen leaned toward her. “He grew up in an orphanage. According to all accounts, when William was but a month old, he was left on their doorstep one morning.”

  The vision brought a heaviness to her heart. She clasped her hands to her chest. “Only a month old? How sad.”

  “They were never told anything about him. Not why he was left there. Nothing.” Sitting straight, she stretched her arms out to the sides and shrugged.

  “Not even his name?”

  “No. And I suppose he would have lived in obscurity had it not been for his benefactor.”

  “Philemon Midas.”

  “Oui.” Helen looked surprised. “But how did you know his name?”

  “Dr. Amory asked me if I might know him since he was from Dover.”

  “Did you?”

  “I am afraid not. But God must have been keeping William in his care to send a benefactor.” Lavonia sighed. “Obviously his parents were in the direst of circumstances to abandon him.” She imagined Dr. Amory as a baby. She wondered how anyone could resist a bright-eyed babe with a mop of dark curls and rosy cheeks, cooing in his crib.

  Helen broke into her fantasy. “Obviously.”

  Lavonia couldn’t resist a barb. “I notice the doctor’s background seems to matter little when someone becomes ill.”

  “Of course we patronize such a fine doctor. But that does not mean he is welcome as a suitor for you, Lavonia.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I not to choose my own suitors?”

  “Of course you have a say,” Helen assured her. “But while you remain under our roof, naturally my darling Luke shall take responsibility for you in these matters. After all, we have a duty to our family to be certain you do not make a poor match.”

  Lavonia clenched her teeth to prevent herself from lashing out at Helen. She knew her cousin was following the rules she had lived by all her life, and that she had Lavonia’s best interests in mind. Lavonia was also aware that no amount of debate would change Helen’s mind. She decided to take a different tact. “Please do not fault the doctor for circumstances well beyond his control. Surely his parents left him at the orphanage because they were desperate. Or perhaps his mother was alone, and loved her son enough to leave him where she knew he would be cared for beyond her ability to do so. Since we do not know, is it not our duty to God to give her the benefit of the doubt? Mercy, not judgment, should be our way of expressing Christian charity.”

  “To a woman who obviously had no morals?”

  “ ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’ ”

  “ ‘Condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.’ ” Helen continued, “Is that not Luke 6:37?”

  “Oui. Tres bien.”

  “Merci.” Helen tilted her chin upward in a prideful motion. “So you see, Lavonia, though you aspire to be a missionary overseas, you are not the only one in this family who can quote the Bible. I have attended my share of church services, too.” Satisfied she had proven her point, Helen continued, “I hope you understand that I do not mean to appear harsh. You fail to realize that someone must act as judge on your behalf. You apparently are not able to see the circumstances with a sensible mind. Why, if I did not know you better, I would think you had taken leave of your senses!”

  Lavonia was about to retort when the vicar’s voice bellowed from the foyer. “Good morning!”

  Helen gave her a look to indicate they would resume their discussion later. Lavonia dreaded when that time might arrive. She was loathe to contemplate Helen’s observations. What if Helen is right? What if the doctor is only interested in me because he believes I possess wealth? In a flash, she recognized that her thoughts betrayed her growing affections for the man. She forced her mind onto a new path. It matters not what the doctor thinks of me. I have no plans to marry. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever!

  Vicar Gladstone’s voice broke into her troubled musings. “I could not help but overhear you, ladies. Am I to understand that you have a sister who is ill with headaches and now you have taken leave of your senses, Miss Penn?” The smirk on his face indicated a most unpleasant sort of amusement.

  Not wanting the vicar to be privy to the details of their disagreement, Lavonia cast her cousin a pleading look.

  Helen gave the vicar a sweet smile. “What brings you here, Vicar, so very long before the noon meal?”

  If Vicar Gladstone realized Helen’s implication, he didn’t let his expression show it. “I am pleased to find both of you ladies well today. However, I would also care to inquire after the health of Miss Katherine Penn. I passed the doctor on my way here. Has he called on her today?”

  Both women nodded.

  “I am sure he is offering the finest medical treatment.” The vicar’s tone indicated he did not believe his own observation.

  “Vraiment,” Helen said. “In fact, we were just discussing what a fine doctor he is.” She shot Lavonia a meaningful look.

  “A better doctor than he is a Christian, I hope.” Vicar Glad-stone muttered the words as though he did not intend for them to be overheard, yet the volume of his voice indicated he sought comment.

  Though Lavonia chose to ignore him, Helen jumped at the opportunity for an inquisition. “What causes you to make such a statement, Vicar?”

  “Perhaps I should not be so free with my judgment.” His look of chagrin seemed false.

  “Au contraire, perhaps you should,” Helen encouraged him. “After all, he is treating my dear cousin Katherine for her headaches.” Her eyes flitted in Lavonia’s direction. “And he has been putting romantic notions in Lavonia’s head.”

  “Helen has always possessed a flair for fantasy,” Lavonia observed.

  The vicar took a seat in a wingbacked chair. “Is it a fantasy that the doctor is well acquainted with your Uncle Joseph?”

  A sudden feeling of discomfiture possessed Lavonia. “I believe they may be acquaintances. I do not know the nature of their relationship or if they have any relationship at all, for that matter.”

  “I see.” The vicar pulled on his vest in a nervous motion. “Realizing I am speaking of your family relation, I do not know how to say what I wish to impart delicately. I do not wish to give offense.”

  Obviously seeing she had an ally in the vicar, Helen summoned her formidable charm. “My dear Vicar. You possess much too much savoir-faire to give offense in your speech.”

  He flashed her a yellow-toothed smile. “Oui, but I would dearly regret le faux-filet.”

  Not expecting even the vicar to make such an egregious error in his French, Lavonia burst into laughter before she could restrain herself. Catching a glimpse of Helen, she saw that she, too, was amused. Only the vicar had taken on a peevish demeanor, indicating he had no idea he had just said he w
ould dearly regret “sirloin.”

  Lavonia composed herself. “I beg your pardon, Vicar. I could not help but find your little joke amusing.”

  “Oui,” agreed Helen. “How witty to substitute faux-filet for faux pas.”

  The vicar hesitated for an instant before a sheepish smile swept over his face. “Oh, yes, I do try to be amusing. I am of the opinion that learned clergymen such as myself have no cause to be dour. Except when the occasion requires, of course.” He let out a practiced laugh.

  “Your levity is appreciated,” Helen said. “But we must turn to serious matters. You are among friends here. It is your duty to honor that friendship by telling us what you know about Dr. Amory and any connection he might have to our dear uncle.”

  “That is just the point. I have no substantive evidence about Mr. Penn and his financial dealings. Only the suspicions of many acquaintances, expressed to me in confidence, of course. But since they are all of good breeding and recognized as upstanding members of the community and the parish, I can only rely on my instinct and believe what they say.”

  An unpleasant twinge shot through Lavonia’s midriff. She had a feeling his intuition about her uncle was correct. “Was Dr. Amory one who confided in you?”

  “No. But those who do, tell me that your uncle is known for making sly investments and manipulating his dealings so that the balance is always in his favor.” The vicar sighed. “To say any more would bring me treacherously close to breaking their confidence.”

  As far as Lavonia was concerned, he didn’t need to say more. Though she neither liked nor trusted Osmond Glad-stone, she knew deep down he spoke the truth. Uncle Joseph’s attitude each time he had discussed estate business with her only confirmed what the vicar speculated. Her heart felt as though it had hit the bottom of her stomach. Deep in thought, she did not listen to the vicar’s speech until he mentioned a name that had become increasingly dear to her.

  “Dr. Amory may be as honest as any man God placed upon this great earth,” he was saying. “However, if he is an associate of Mr. Penn’s, then I am afraid that allowing him to become a suitor to you, Miss Penn, would be most impolitic. I even wonder at the wisdom of allowing him to come into contact with your sister at all. It would be grievous to me for her to become endangered by him in any way.”