Love's Courage

by Elizabeth Meyette

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ve already purchased another ship that will safely return us home.” He placed his hands on Constance and Sarie’s shoulders. “We hope you will join us. I think you’ll find Virginia winters more forgiving than New York’s or Boston’s.”

  “Perhaps the winters are more forgiving, but I fear some people are not. Sarie and Isaac will be safer in Boston.”

  “But, Mother—”

  “We will be safe there now. The British no longer occupy Boston. And it is my home.” Her eyes glistened. “But your home is in Virginia.” She stroked Andrew’s hair. “Thank you for saving my daughter’s life.”

  “I believe it was mutual salvation.” Andrew grinned at her.

  Jenny laughed and squeezed Andrew’s hand.

  Lively talk and gentle teasing ensued while all ate their fill. Jenny and Andrew recounted their journey, and Mother filled in with hers. Jenny relished the laughter, the safety, the love that filled the room. Beneath the table, she sought out Andrew’s hand.

  Jonathon detailed the plan to get them out of New York and back to Williamsburg. He had seen Lieutenant Ashby while at the encampment where he’d met the Wirth brothers. Ashby was still alive, though barely, but enough to know that it was Jenny who had stabbed him. Should he recover, she and Andrew would have a formidable enemy out there.

  As they finished their breakfast, Jonathon finalized the plans, urging them to be ready to leave at dusk. Traveling at night would be safer.

  Jenny looked around the table at the people whom she had saved, and the people who had saved her. She took a deep breath and counted her blessings.

  Andrew ran along the wharf, dodging porters carrying barrels, jumping over crates stationed on the dock before being loaded onto ships, skirting sailors mending sails and rigging. He shouted, “Excuse me,” and “Pardon me, sir,” as he sprinted to the end of the wharf where the ship was ready to sail.

  Jenny stood at the brass railing watching, laughter bubbling up at his exasperating progress. Her heart was full to bursting as he dashed up the plank then hastened along the deck to join her. Reaching her, he embraced her like a man holding a lifeline.

  “Just in time, Andrew. How do the two of you like my new ship?” Jonathon asked as he approached.

  “She’s beautiful.” Jenny scanned the trimmed sails, the neatly coiled ropes, the glistening brass fixtures, and the polished mahogany.

  “I named her for you, you know.” He smiled down at her. “She’s called the Courage. She’s a proud ship, an intrepid ship, and a salvation to me while the Destiny is being repaired.”

  “Captain, we are ready to depart,” Mr. Gates called over.

  “I will leave you two to entertain yourselves as I set sail.” Jonathon bowed.

  Jenny looked up at Andrew. “You ran fast enough.”

  “So did you.” He kissed her.

  “Yes, I finally did.”

  They stood at the rail, their arms encircling each other, and sailed out of port toward the life they’d dreamed of so long ago.

  Read an excerpt from Love’s Destiny:

  Book One in The Brentwood Saga:

  Emily viewed her reflection in the mirror. Thick dark lashes made a startling contrast to clear, blue-violet eyes. She wrinkled her delicate nose.

  “I am too short,” she thought. “And my hair…I must wear it up.”

  She pushed her long, thick, tawny-colored hair up from the nape of her neck. Golden highlights danced off it in the evening sun that streamed through the window.

  A plan had formed in Emily’s mind as the weeks had passed, bringing the inevitable meeting with Captain Brentwood closer. She needed no guardian—why she was seventeen years old. Andrew and she could continue to live here in London. Surely their inheritance would be an adequate income on which they could live comfortably. It was silly to even appoint a guardian for them.

  Her heart lifted as she thought of her foolproof plan. That was why she must appear a mature and self-assured woman. But she wrinkled her nose once again at her reflection.

  “Bah! I look like a child, and Captain Brentwood will be here any moment.” She rang for Mary, her maid.

  “Quickly, Mary, dress my hair high, and… well, sophisticated. I need to look mature… older. Oh, you know what I mean.”

  Mary hesitated. Etta was only the housekeeper, but she clucked over Emily and Andrew like a mother hen. If she did not approve, Mary would really get a dressing down. As gentle as Etta could be with the children, she could be equally stern with the servants.

  “Come on, quickly, Mary,” Emily insisted. It was time to start asserting her authority and look the part of woman of the house.

  Mary did not want to tangle with Emily’s temper either, so she quickly picked up the brushes and began to dress the girl’s hair.

  Emily surveyed the results. Her black, high-necked dress set off her creamy white skin. With her hair piled high on her head, she appeared taller, more dignified. She was sure her plan would work, and in spite of her sadness, her spirits lifted. There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” she called.

  Andrew entered. “He should be here…Oh, Em, you look so different …”Andrew stared at his sister. The transformation was remarkable.

  “Do I look older, Drew? Do you think our plan will work?” Her eyes sparkled for the first time in weeks.

  “I hope so, Emily. But please do not set your hopes too high. What do you think Captain Brentwood will be like?” Andrew asked.

  “Well, he was Father’s friend, so perhaps he will be a bit like Father. Perhaps not as robust, perhaps a bit older…I do not know. I just hope he agrees to our plan. I do not see why he would not. He probably does not want to be burdened with us any more than we want to be uprooted and moved to those savage colonies.” Emily was not to be dissuaded; her plan would work. “We could continue to live here…what does it matter to him where we are? I have to convince him that I am capable of running this household and Father’s estate.”

  Captain Jonathon Brentwood stared out the window of his coach. Lamplighters were making their way along, igniting the lamps that lined the streets of London. The clop, clop, clop of the horse’s hooves beat a rhythm against the night as he pondered his new role as guardian of his dear friend’s children. It was not a role he relished, being ignorant of the ways of children. And his dealings in Europe were becoming more tenuous as friction mounted between the colonies and England. Most of his time would be spent in the colonies now as trade and prosperity were growing there. And as the rebellion grew, he had other duties to attend…

  The timing of this guardianship could not have been worse. But George Wentworth had been a mentor and had become one of his closest friends. Jonathon would honor the promise he had made to him. His experience with children had been limited, and when he was exposed to them, he was bewildered by their endless energy and their proclivity to mischief. He hoped George’s children were not quite as lively and imaginative as some he had spent time with. George had told him many stories of Little Em and Andrew. From his stories they sounded well-behaved and mannerly. They certainly would tie him down more than he had been used to in his 28 years of bachelorhood. He had written his sister Joanna explaining the situation. Surely she would help him watch over the children so he could continue sailing. She and her husband lived in Brentwood Manor, the family home. David was a good manager, and the plantation was thriving under him. Jonathon would soon have to take over, but he wanted to sail for a few more years. Well, he would get this situation settled soon, and then he could set sail again.

  The coach came to a stop in front of the handsome London townhouse. As he stepped down from the coach, Jonathon noticed an upstairs curtain fall back in place. He took a deep breath, straightened his cravat, and went up to the door.

  *

  “He is here, Andrew. You go down first. I shall be right there, but let me talk to him alone. I am so nervous; I have eaten nothing all day!”
She ran to the mirror as Andrew closed the door. “Oh, dear God, please let this work,” she whispered. She lifted her chin peering sideways out of her eyes. Raising one eyebrow, she nodded her head regally. She had been practicing all week. “It must work!” she breathed.

  As she descended the curving staircase she saw a tall figure with broad shoulders and dark hair studying the portrait of Jessica, Emily’s mother. Jonathon Brentwood turned and looked up at a younger version of the portrait he had just viewed. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a lazy, engaging smile.

  “So you are Little Em,” he drawled. Not quite, he thought to himself. He gazed at the beautiful tawny-haired girl whose blue eyes threatened to drown him.

  Emily was stunned. This was her father’s friend? Soft brown eyes gazed at her with amusement. They were set in a bronzed, handsome face. He was dressed in a blue longcoat and cream-colored breeches which enhanced his tall, lean figure. His broad shoulders and brown curly hair tied back at the nape of his neck completed the picture of a strikingly attractive man. Emily’s cheeks felt flushed under his close scrutiny, and a strange tingle ran through her body. She reached the bottom of the stairs and looked up into his warm, brown eyes again as she extended her hand.

  “Captain Brentwood? I am pleased to meet you.” Emily was annoyed at the tremble in her voice. He bent and kissed her hand, his lips brushing softly against her skin. Their eyes met as he straightened. Emily tried to steady herself, unable to make her heart stop beating so hard. She was sure he could hear it. She reminded herself of her plan, and quickly regained her composure, straightening to her full height.

  “You must be exhausted after your long, hurried voyage. May I offer you some tea,” she paused noting his suppressed smile, “…or some brandy?” she added.

  “Brandy would be fine. Thank you, … uh… Miss Wentworth,” he replied still fighting back the smile.

  Emily led him into the parlor and rang for the maid; Etta appeared. Emily knew this would be difficult for Etta still thought of her as a child.

  “Two brandies please, Etta.” She raised her chin as she had practiced before the mirror. Etta started to protest, but something in Emily’s eyes stopped her, and she hurried off to get the drinks.

  “Please sit down, Captain Brentwood,” Emily said coolly as she sat on the end of the settee. To her confusion, Jonathon sat beside her rather than in the chair she had indicated. A crooked smile played around his lips as though he attempted to hide a joke. He thought of the “Little Em” of George’s stories and chuckled to himself. Nothing had prepared him for this beautiful girl who was trying so hard to be a woman.

  “We have much to discuss, Miss Wentworth,” he said as Etta returned with a tray carrying the decanter and two crystal glasses.

  “Indeed we have, Captain,” she replied.

  Etta set the tray on the table in front of Emily. The housekeeper poured brandy into the glasses, and Emily was grateful for she had no idea what an appropriate amount would have been. She thought Etta rather stingy based on what was in each glass, but she took them and handed one glass to Jonathon. “Thank you, Etta; that will be all.” She turned to Jonathon dismissing the housekeeper.

  “Hmmmph!” Etta grumbled as she left the room.

  Jonathon silently saluted Emily and then took a drink from his glass. Emily sipped hers and tried to choke down the spasms of coughing that threatened to overcome her. She had sampled wine before at social gatherings, but had never tasted brandy. Heat spread down her throat and she blinked the tears out of her eyes causing her to miss the fleeting smile that crossed Jonathon’s face. It was a few minutes before she caught her breath enough to speak.

  “Captain Brentwood, I loved my father very much and always obeyed him as he had my welfare as his concern above all else. However, with all due respect, sir, I think in this last instance he erred.”

  Jonathon raised an eyebrow encouraging her to continue.

  “I realize you were his dearest friend, and I appreciate your generosity in this matter, but as you can see, sir, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and Andrew. I think Father often thought of us as much younger than we actually are and so made provisions which we obviously do not need. With the wealth Father accumulated on his voyages, Andrew and I can continue to live here quite comfortably. Eventually, I will marry, and Andrew will stay on in this house. So you see, Captain Brentwood, I appreciate your willingness to care for us, but it is unnecessary.” She took a deep breath. Would it work? She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and cross her fingers for good luck. Instead, she maintained her composure though it took all of her strength.

  Jonathon continued to look at her with that amused expression. He took another drink of his brandy and, putting down his empty glass he eyed hers and looked at her inquiringly. Emily lifted her glass to her lips and sipped again. It seared her throat and brought tears to her eyes once more. She could not speak for a moment, and when she finally took a breath, the fire returned. She cleared her throat and felt a warmth infuse her. Her cheeks felt flushed and her breath came in short gasps. Finally, she spoke.

  “Well, Captain Brentwood, do you not agree that this is a simple solution for all of us?” The room seemed very warm.

  “Miss Wentworth, I can see that you are a very sensible, as well as capable, young woman…”

  Emily’s spirits soared.

  “…and you are correct when you say that your father thought of you as younger. Why, he would call you ‘Little Em’ and tell me of how you sat in his lap and begged for stories. Or how you would tease the cook into an extra helping of dessert, and how, on a hot summer’s day, you would totter across the lawn with just your…ah, well, suffice it to say I was expecting someone much younger.”

  Emily was blushing furiously at his last reference to her childhood. She avoided his gaze. She had to convince this man that she was mature and responsible enough to be on her own. Goodness, the room felt warm, and it seemed to be tilting a bit. Not thinking, Emily reached for the last of her brandy. Again her throat burned as the fiery liquid made its way down. Finally, she spoke.

  “Well, as you can see, Captain, Father was mistaken. I am quite capable of looking after Andrew and myself.”

  “Yes, I can see that. In fact, you are quite a lovely young woman.” Jonathon leaned back against the settee, casually resting one arm behind Emily. He saw through her charade and could not help teasing her for she was so serious. “I imagine you have captured the hearts of all the young men in London. How many suitors have lined up at the door asking for your hand and whispered their undying love in your delicate ear, promising ever to be true.” He had leaned forward and his breath touched her hair, his eyes held hers. His voice was soft and silken as his arm encircled her shoulders. Emily sat gazing at his warm, brown eyes, captivated. The room was warm, and the firelight flickered on their faces.

  Suddenly Emily caught herself and sprang from the settee, her head swimming, desperately needing some air.

  “It is a beautiful evening, Captain Brentwood. Shall we step out onto the terrace?” she asked trying to steady her trembling. It did not help that the room seemed to be moving, too.

  The half-moon perched on a treetop, and the stars sprinkled across the ebony sky. They walked silently out to the garden, the smoky smell of well-stoked fires filling the crisp air. Emily felt a little steadier. They sat on a bench beneath a tall oak.

  “May I speak frankly, Captain?”

  “By all means, Miss Wentworth,” Jonathon smiled.

  “I do not want to go to Virginia with you any more than you want to be burdened with me. I fully intend to stay here with my brother. Father’s intentions were good, but he was wrong to do this to either of us, and I believe you see the sense in this, too.” Emily folded her hands in her lap as if to end the discussion.

  “Miss Wentworth, may I also speak frankly?”

  “Of course,” Emily nodded.

  “In the carriage on the way over here, I
would have given anything to be rid of this responsibility. But now, having met you, Miss Wentworth, I am not so sure I want to be relieved of my duty. I was expecting a young child. Instead, I find a beautiful young woman who has made it perfectly clear that she does not need me. Yet I find that this is just what I want—for her to need me.” Jonathon could see Emily’s embarrassed blush even in the moonlight. He could not help but continue to tease her; she was so serious. “No, I do not think I will be remiss in my duty. In fact, I am sworn to my promise even more having met you. How can I desert this fair damsel in distress? Why, it is my opportunity to be a knight in shining armor come to rescue a fair maiden.” He leaned forward taking her hand. “Is it possible, my lady, that out of many I might claim your heart?” His voice was low, his eyes sparkled. “Oh, but one kiss from your sweet, gentle lips to carry with me forever would be so kind.”

  Emily felt a new rush of warmth course through her that had nothing to do with the brandy. She knew he was teasing her, yet she tingled with excitement. Just the thought of his soft lips against hers, being held in his strong arms…what was she thinking? She stood quickly.

  “I fear you mock me, sir, when all I desire is to settle our lives so we can each go our separate ways. Please just agree with me that this solution would be best and we shall be finished with it.”

  “I do not mock you, Emily,” Jonathon spoke softly, “but even if I wanted to, which I do not, I could not agree to your plan.”

  “Why ever not?” she cried near tears.

  “Because your father’s will states that I hold everything in trust for you until you marry. Or, if you do not marry, until you reach age twenty-one. I am afraid you cannot be on your own until such time.”

  Emily’s face went white. Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned quickly so he could not see them. It would not do to cry. Not here, not now. Her mind raced. She would be packed off to the colonies, and she was helpless to stop it. What could she do?