Touch the Sun

by Wright, Cynthia

"Clarissa, this had better be important! I do not have time for any more scheming conversations with you." Marcus stalked into his study, where Clarissa waited, perched on the edge of a fashionable Hepplewhite easy chair. "I told you night before last that you would have to engineer the rest of your plans without my assistance. Priscilla has me rushing toward the altar at full tilt."

  "I hope you are enjoying yourself, Marcus dear, after working so hard for this!" She smiled archly. "Let me assure you that I have everything under control. Your information was more than enough help!"

  In the act of pouring himself a brandy, Marcus looked back at Clarissa curiously. "What have you done with the girl?"

  "She is out in the Delaware River—without a boat, of course!"

  His black eyebrows went up. "Rather drastic measures, eh?"

  "I wanted to leave no room for error this time. That wench was far too crafty. At any rate, the deed is done, so further discussion is a waste of time." Her perfect pink and white face was pinched, the sky-blue eyes flinty. "The swine I hired to do her in have returned for the remainder of their payment, and more. That is why I am here. They have a ring that they claim she wore; the chit said it was originally a possession of Lion's mother and begged them to leave it to her. It does have his surname inscribed in the band, and it is set with several small rubies. They want me to buy it from them, at a horrible price, to ensure it won't 'fall into the wrong hands.'."

  "Are you asking for a loan?" Marcus inquired coldly.

  "Yes."

  "Done. Now, I am due at Mansion House. Is there anything else?"

  "Only my dilemma of how to leak the news of the girl's death—without casting Lion's suspicions on you or me. They said the river had a strong current and she was taken off at once, so there is no chance of anyone discovering the body, as I had hoped..."

  Marcus was counting money at his desk, obviously in a hurry. "You are not as clever as you insist, my dear. Send the men to the servants' entrance of Mansion House where they may beg a meal and tell their tale to Smith. Let them take the girl's horse to show and say they saw her thrown from its back into the river last night. Swept away by the current. The ever-good Smith will undoubtedly take over from there." He leaned across the desk to hand her a small leather pouch bulging with guineas. "You may wait until you become Mistress Hampshire to repay me. In the meantime, it would behoove both of us to avoid one another, don't you agree? Especially with the death of the girl—suspicion is one thing we can do without."

  * * *

  Marcus's improvised strategy worked with such smooth efficiency that even Clarissa was astounded at how well things were going. Except for the ruby ring, there had not been a single tangle in her design.

  Seated at her graceful dressing table, she replaced the top on her orange flower water while regarding her flawless reflection in the mirror. Every blond curl was in place. She practiced the smile that had always entranced Lion and adjusted her décolletage so that just enough white flesh was revealed.

  It was April twenty-third. Clarissa had suffered through two torturous days since Lion had been told of Meagan's death, waiting until the perfect moment to approach him. Now she could not take the chance of letting another hour pass in case he should suddenly leave for New York to seek solace in the celebrations there.

  Carefully, she felt into the corner of her jewel case to be certain that the dearly bought ruby ring was safe. Then, she unfolded the letter delivered that morning by Marcus's disguised valet, and reread it.

  11 o'clock April 22, 1789

  Tomorrow, I shall be married. That knowledge has softened me sufficiently to compose one last message to you. I feel compelled to relay new information to you, since your failure and discovery could lead to my own.

  Events proceed splendidly. I understand that your two "swine" carried off their performance at Mansion House quite convincingly. (Thank God Bramble is no longer there! She would have closed the door on their snouts.) A grief-stricken Smith heard them out, then identified the filly. Wickham extracted Flynn from the Bunch of Grapes where he was deep into ale and winning at Pharaoh, and proceeded to destroy his jolly little world. (Yes, he was enamored of the chit as well!) Flynn delivered the news to Lion. It seems he is taking it very hard; Smith goes over regularly, for the situation appears rather desperate. The servants are actually frightened of him though he's spent the better part of the past thirty-six hours closed up in one room or another. Bramble is telling anyone who will listen that Lion has become more beast than man.

  Doubtless, that is not the reaction you hoped for, but it rather satisfies me.

  Priscilla and I shall be leaving the twenty-fifth for New York. She wishes to begin our marriage at the estate I've just purchased above Woodlands, so I shall indulge her, however briefly. I want to allow at least two days in New York before the inauguration.

  Perhaps, if this astonishing good fortune continues, we shall meet there, both enjoying the first week of wedded bliss. I remain, in spirit—

  Your Obed. Servant.

  M.

  Clarissa folded the letter and wedged it into a compartment inside her dressing table. Her face was serene with confidence in her one talent—enchantment of the male animal, the most splendid of whom was Lion Hampshire.

  No matter how bewitched he had been by that kitchen wench, Lion had never been a man who bemoaned the past. He would be ready to pull himself together, which meant he'd crave a female to warm his empty bed. Clarissa meant to be in the right place at the right time.

  * * *

  Wong was close to hysteria as he tried to stop Clarissa Claussen from ascending the stairs.

  "Please, missy! He say he no see anybody! He kill us both if you go in. Oh, please!"

  She ignored him. On the tenth step, Wong reached wildly for her skirt, and Clarissa turned to deliver a savage blow with the flat side of her hand. Wong, already frantic, stumbled and fell against the stair rails. By the time he recovered, Clarissa had reached the top step and was turning down the hall.

  She knocked, receiving an angry growl in response. Obviously, the man was in no mood for company, but it was up to her to remind him of what he was missing.

  Lion tensed, instantly erect, when the door to his bedchamber opened the first inch. He had been staring out the window at the garden below, but his mood switched from pensive to hostile in the space of a heartbeat.

  Clarissa stood on the threshold, a vision in ivory and peacock blue. Her rosebud mouth smiled.

  "Get out," was Lion's terse greeting.

  She made a moue, widened her sky-blue eyes, and inhaled slowly so that her breasts swelled temptingly above her neckline.

  "Get out!" Sparks began to flash in his eyes; tendons stood out on his neck. Clarissa felt a sharp twinge between her legs at the sight of him outlined in sunshine and she burned with passions that she longed to channel in the right direction.

  "Darling, I know you need me now, even though you aren't aware of it yourself. Your fiancée has been stolen from you and—you've lost a—a mistress—"

  That brought him to her side, but the expression on his dark face gave her true cause for alarm. He gripped her arm to the bone. "Be silent and get out of my house!"

  She tried tears next. "Oh, Lion, I am only trying to help! Can't you see you need me? I can make you well again, I know I can. Please—"

  Lion shook her off savagely, causing Clarissa to fall on the bed, and headed toward the wardrobe. "When a man cannot find peace in his own home, the time has come for a change of scene! Excuse me while I pack; Wong will show you the door."

  As he pulled clothing out, piling the random choices on the nearest chair, Clarissa was struggling to rise from where she had landed.

  "No! You cannot ignore me this way! I know you want me as much as I want you! Oh, Lion, don't you know I haven't slept through a night since we parted because of my need for you?"

  He brushed past her on his way to the bureau, not even glancing in her direction.

 
Her lovely grew flushed. "You imbecile! Do you think you can deny your true feelings to me? Listen to me! Look at me!" She was back at his elbow, breathing in gasps of rage. "Would you deny that you have missed my body?" Feverishly, she tore at the hooks on her bodice to expose her shaking breasts, but Lion seemed completely oblivious. When Clarissa clawed at his coat with her long fingernails, he finally looked down, but his expression was one of sickened fury.

  "Get away from me!"

  Before Clarissa could remember to fight, she had been literally pitched into the hallway, where she collided with a thud against the far wall. The door slammed, and her tears began in earnest.

  "I will show you, Lion Hampshire. The day will come when you beg for my body and for my forgiveness! I will become your wife!"

  Chapter 39

  To the females who were acquainted with George Washington, his chivalrous nature was legendary. He loved women, with restraint, and showed to them the most charming aspects of his personality.

  Meagan knew that she could not have encountered a more ideal rescuer, for in spite of the conspicuous, parade-like nature of this journey, he never considered deserting her. She explained, in the sketchiest of terms, what had befallen her since Christmas, revealing little more than the fact that she had gone with Priscilla to escape Aunt Agatha. Washington tactfully refrained from pressing the issue. He had known Meagan all her life and had been both shocked and enchanted by her antics in the past. Never for a moment did he question the quality of her character, not even now.

  David Humphreys was given the task of blending Meagan into the scenery. This was fraught with risks, for there were no women included in the entourage and it would be a catastrophe if she were discovered. Humphreys transformed her into his valet. They sneaked her into the inn at Princeton that first day and sent her one suit of clothes out to be cleaned. The next morning, Humphreys labored to make her look as boyish and inconspicuous as possible; even General Washington stopped in to approve the disguise.

  Meagan looked adorable, just as she had the first time she donned the suit to go shopping with Lion, but they planned to use her size to advantage by keeping her hidden behind the other men. Charles Thomson agreed that discovery was unlikely, if only because everyone's eyes would be riveted on the idolized President-elect.

  The morning of the twenty-third found Meagan in Elizabeth Town, peering around corners at the hotel of Samuel Smith in search of her shield—Colonel Humphreys. The men had just returned from Boxwood Hall and a meeting of the Committee of Congress, and were ready to embark on the fifteen-mile journey by water that would bring them to Manhattan Island.

  Through a window, Meagan could see the distinguished-looking crowd that milled about in the spring sunshine, but there was no sign of David Humphreys. She was about to creep into the next room when a hand caught her elbow and spun her around. Meagan swallowed a startled cry at the sight of her tall protector.

  "I was beginning to fear that you had forgotten me!" she exclaimed in relief.

  Humphreys smiled. He was an attractive man with almost beautiful eyes and mouth, a prominent nose, and neatly arranged gray hair which curled naturally. Meagan thought he looked splendid in his buff and blue uniform.

  "My dear, you would be most difficult to forget!"

  "Well, it is almost time to leave, and I haven't the faintest notion what I'm to do!"

  "All is arranged. The general has given this a great deal of thought, as you know. I opted for the Hamiltons—"

  "Do you mean as my final destination?" she queried, eyes twinkling. Humphreys was amused as well.

  "Yes. The idea is to find a man with a wife who has a temperament sufficiently capricious to accept this rather mad situation. And, of course, most of the men who have just moved to New York as part of the new government have not brought their wives in yet. So that narrowed the field down to a family already settled in the city. The general resists the Hamiltons, since he and Alexander are rather on the outs, so the final decision is to put you with John and Sarah Jay. At your age, she nearly matched you in enthusiasm and impulsiveness, so you should be great friends.

  "Jay is here now, as part of the escort from New York, and the general has discussed the matter with him. He assures us that his wife will welcome you with open arms."

  "And later...?"

  "There's no need to worry about the future, Meagan. Just relax and enjoy yourself, and when things quiet down after the inauguration, we can all decide what to do next." He smiled reassuringly. "You know how much General Washington loves children. Perhaps after Mrs. Washington arrives, they will have you come to live with them!"

  Meagan looked bleak. "The only problem is that I am no longer a child!"

  * * *

  It was a long day. Meagan had grown accustomed to the extravagant displays of adulation that met General Washington at every bend in the road, but the journey by barge to New York outdid all the rest.

  The custom-built vessel was grand, complete with an awning festooned with red curtains and thirteen identically dressed harbor pilots who manned the oars. As it started out through Kill van Kull into the bay, a naval parade formed behind. Meagan was deposited on a boat with John Jay and Henry Knox, though they were generally too preoccupied to pay much attention to her. Mr. Jay had the look of an aristocrat: a slender build, long chin, hawk nose, and arching eyebrows. He was polite when introduced to Meagan, but she thought him aloof, even forbidding, and hoped his manner did not reflect the way he felt about taking her into his home.

  Dressed in her breeches, it seemed a wise idea to stand off to one side and keep quiet. She watched General Washington's barge progress toward Staten Island as more and more boats came out to crowd the water. At one point, cannon began to fire a thirteen-gun salute from a Spanish ship-of-war and banners spiraled out on dozens of boats. A sloop sailed alongside the barge so that four of its passengers faced the General, whereupon they began singing to the tune of "God Save the King":

  Joy to our native land,

  Let every heart expand

  For Washington's at hand,

  With glory crowned.

  More music-producing boats followed. Meagan could scarcely believe her eyes as she watched the spectacle. A school of porpoises performed next, and then a vessel appeared carrying Philip Freneau, the Anti-Federalist writer, and two orangutans.

  Even General Washington seemed startled by this. Frequently during the boat trip, he had turned to seek out the faces of Jay and Knox, who were familiar friends in an ocean of strangers. As Freneau passed by, the president-elect looked back with an expression of startled confusion. Meagan caught his eye and gave him her brightest grin, which seemed to have the desired effect.

  That smile had taken all her willpower, for in the midst of the day's contagious excitement, she was feeling desperately lonely. Ever since Washington had taken her under his wing, the overpowering nature of her will to survive had gradually been replaced by misery. Now that she was safe, and returned to her true name and position, it began to seem that her past with Lion was only a bittersweet dream. He was lost to her forever... and she had no idea what the future would hold for her.

  As the boat neared Manhattan Island, she forced herself to concentrate. All along the shore, deafening cheers went up from crowds that stood so close together that little was visible but hats. People were clinging to the masts of ships and hanging out of windows; thousands of arms waved to and fro. It seemed to Meagan that every person in the city must have assembled on the docks today. She watched as the white-uniformed pilots skillfully brought the barge into a landing on Murray's Wharf at the foot of Wall Street.

  The next hour was a blur of cheers, faces, shoves, and confusion. Once General Washington had mounted the stairs to the dock, where he was greeted by Mayor Duane and Governor Clinton, Meagan was not destined to see him again that day. Wedged in among the men, she could not get a proper view, and the cheering crowd made it impossible to even think. John Jay took her arm, but once they
were off the boat he handed her over to his coachman.

  Washington had begun to walk through the crowds on his way to the home which had been procured for him on Cherry Street, but Meagan bounced along a different route—up Broadway in the Jay carriage. She was exhausted. A man had been crying nearby when she and John Jay stepped off the boat, sobbing that he could die contented now that he had seen the savior of his country.

  It seemed too much. In fact, the entire period of her life since she had left Virginia was taking on the quality of a grand, mad illusion.

  * * *

  The city of New York had been ravaged during the Revolution by two terrible fires and seven years of British occupation. After the war's end, the island seemed suspended in a state of shock which lasted through most of the 1780s. Lately, however, there had been much improvement. Damaged buildings were being restored, fine new homes were built, and improvements were begun on the narrow, crooked streets. New Yorkers loved to socialize, often to excess, and there was more than enough entertainment to satisfy every taste.

  John and Sarah Jay were at the center of the elite social whirl in New York. Their mansion on Broadway was a gathering place for distinguished people from all over the world, known for the excellent wine and French food served by a hostess who charmed every guest.

  Meagan was no exception. She and Sarah, whom everyone called Sally, were immediately drawn to each other by certain shared physical traits: clear sparkly eyes, small frames, and creamy skin which was prone to blush. Sally Jay, however, was quite pregnant and possessed beautiful chestnut hair and dimples.

  Meagan felt at home instantly. The Jay mansion was handsome and dignified, yet warm. The combination reminded Meagan of the marriage of John and Sally—opposites bringing out the best in each other.

  She was given a lovely room on the second floor, a hot bath, and a collection of dresses from Sally's pre-pregnancy collection. The children, ranging in age from four to fourteen, danced in and out of her room until she felt like an older sister.