There was a share of other relatives, mostly Sally Jay's unmarried sisters. So many people rushed about the house that Meagan never did learn the exact dividing line between family and friends. Sally took it all in stride, her mood serene yet gay, so that Meagan just let herself fall into the group and hoped she was not making extra work for anyone.
When General Washington explained Meagan's circumstances to John Jay, he began with the tale of her wealthy parents and their untimely deaths, intimating that the spirited girl was now in the process of escaping Aunt Agatha's guardianship and had encountered the general quite by chance. Jay passed this explanation on to his curious household, all of whom had been dying to learn the secret of this gamine in boy's clothing. Sally was delighted by the entire situation.
For three days, she let Meagan relax. There was a constant stream of callers at the mansion; it seemed that the only time someone wasn't visiting was when Sally and John were out. Meagan was invited to join in as though she were another sister, but she was reluctant to leave the house, and often remained in her room when there were visitors. The day the Binghams came for tea, Meagan was adamant about not meeting them, despite Sally's vivid description of Philadelphia's most wealthy and beautiful lady.
Sally Jay worried about her young houseguest, especially since her reticence seemed so at odds with the adventurous spirit in breeches. Meagan had grown quiet, her huge violet eyes misty with hidden emotions.
Then, James Madison and Edmund Randolph came for luncheon and Sally glimpsed the girl Meagan had been. She seemed overjoyed to see them, her happiness translated into rosy cheeks, dancing eyes, and a smile so bright that Sally was startled by the sight of it. Over lunch, the three Virginians spoke of times gone by at Pecan Grove, Mount Vernon, and their own plantations. They discussed General Washington and his reluctant return to public life as well as Madison and Randolph's moves to New York and their own futures. Meagan was particularly anxious for news about Edmund's wife Betsy and their four children.
Finally, Jay took his guests off to the library so that they could discuss government affairs, and Meagan and Sally were left with their tea. The dining room overlooked a garden which stretched like a bright spring carpet back to New Street. Violets lent their perfume to the breeze that swirled through the open window, and Sally inhaled appreciatively.
"I didn't know you could laugh like that! Seeing Mr. Randolph and Representative Madison seems to have been the perfect tonic for your spirits."
Meagan looked up to meet her hostess's concerned eyes.
"I have felt so unsettled lately," she said carefully. "Since my father and mother died, I have had moments when I've been unsure of my own identity. My whole life has been turned upside down. But just now—being with those two men—was like falling backward in time—very reassuring..."
"You used to laugh like that?"
Meagan smiled crookedly. "I hope I didn't offend either you or Mr. Jay. I've never been good at holding my enthusiasm in check! But yes, I used to laugh like that—often at all the wrong times!"
"That sounds like me a dozen years ago! I'm still rather incorrigible, but age has toned me down." Sally inclined her head to one side, looking out over the garden. "And I know how you feel, losing your family, your home, and the environment you loved. About ten years ago, John was chosen to be the emissary to Spain and I went with him. The usual adjustments one makes in a foreign country—cut off from friends and relatives—were bad enough... but then, I gave birth to our second child. She was a beautiful little girl, but she fell ill when she was just a few days old and died." Her blue eyes pooled with tears. "I could find little to console me in a country whose customs, language, and religion were all the very reverse of our own, and where I had no ties. How I longed for a familiar face or voice! So you see, I have an idea of what you feel now."
Meagan blinked back tears of her own, unable to frame a reply. When Sally Jay took her hand, it was the first bond of their warm friendship; their eyes met in understanding.
"My dear, I liked you from the moment you entered my house, and I feel closer to you the more I learn of your personality. It breaks my heart to think you no longer crave laughter and gaiety. Would you make an attempt, just once, for me? There is so much excitement in New York right now and I think you deserve to share in it."
Meagan considered this. The dull pain of yearning for Lion never left her, but hearing of Sally's loss seemed to diminish the size of her own problems. Besides, she had never been one for self-pity.
"You are right. I suppose the time has come for me to plunge ahead. What did you have in mind?"
Sally leaned forward in her chair, wearing the excited look of a matchmaker who seldom had the chance to act. "There is an assembly Tuesday night at the home of Henry and Lucy Knox. It should be a splendid affair, and I have the perfect gown for you. Isn't it wonderful that we are the same size?" Dimples appeared in her pink cheeks as she patted the curve of her abdomen. "Well, we were once, and shall be again! At any rate, I should confess all..."
Meagan was puzzled, but Sally laughed and rushed on.
"When John came home yesterday, he said that he had met a most interesting man at City Tavern. Apparently this fellow possesses every physical and mental virtue, including a facility for sarcasm—a trait much admired by my husband! In John's opinion, he is destined for greatness... but he did seem lonely. Now, in my opinion, you and this mystery man sound ideally suited!"
Chapter 40
Wearing only her chemise and petticoats, Meagan lay stiffly on the pencil-post bed, afraid to move lest her coiffure be ruined. A cool afternoon breeze played with the linen ruffle on the canopy frame and caused her bare throat and arms to prickle.
I must have lost my senses to have agreed to this, she thought desperately. It is bound to be one of the major gatherings; the Binghams are sure to attend! I'm not ready yet for confrontations...
She closed her eyes in an attempt to keep Lion from invading her mind, but it was no use. She had been gone a week, and he and Priscilla were certainly married by this time. Her thoughts had only to touch on the subject of their wedding night and her brain recoiled as if scalded. She practiced again at making her mind a blank.
There was a knock at the door, followed by the cheerful entrance of Sarah Jay, who wore a loose, skillfully cut gown of cinnamon brocade shot through with gold threads. The colors were perfect against her chestnut curls.
Sally's maid followed. Meagan saw that she held a beautiful dress fashioned of smoky-violet taffeta in one hand, silk slippers in the other.
"Do you like it?" Sally inquired anxiously.
"Oh, it is lovely!"
"Good! That color never flattered me half as much as it will you. Oh, Meagan, I haven't been so excited since the night John proposed to me!
"As soon as you finish dressing, join us downstairs. The cook is fixing lobster tonight, so we shall feast before leaving for General Knox's. We also have an entire tray of éclairs from Mr. Pryor's shop, but the children will devour them if you aren't quick!"
She paused, noting Meagan's position and expression.
"I do hope you are well. John tells me the young man with the scathing wit will certainly attend—as well as a girl you may know. Her name is Priscilla Wade, and I understand her family also lives near Mount Vernon. Anne Bingham said that she and her brand-new husband were due to arrive in New York at any time!"
Sally could not have been more surprised when, at the end of her cheerful announcement, she saw Meagan's face go as white as her petticoats.
* * *
General Henry Knox lived in a handsome four-story brick house located not far from Bowling Green, on the west side of Broadway. Tonight, it was ablaze with light and an assemblage of dazzling notables who were enjoying their chance to play a role in this week-long fairy tale. Women and men alike wore costly imported silks, satins, and brocades, as well as a profusion of jewels. To Sally Jay, it was like returning to Versailles.
There
was at least one person present who was not opulently garbed. He stood away from the groups of people who drank and danced and laughed. His expression was indifferent; cool and cynical. Steely blue eyes watched the performances of others, and although one tawny brow arched in seeming amusement, the hard line of his mouth never softened.
John and Sally Jay were coming in from the piazza when she spotted the stranger. He was magnificent. Clad in a well-cut coat of indigo blue over white breeches, a pearl silk waistcoat, and a spotless linen shirt with a froth of lace against his brown jaw, the man seemed to mock the extravagant clothes worn by others. He lounged against the wall, sipping brandy, and Sally thought that even in repose, he appeared more powerful than any man she had ever seen.
"John!" she hissed, pulling at her husband's arm as he started off toward Alexander Hamilton. "Who is that ferocious-looking fellow over there? Do you know?"
He followed her gaze and broke into a rare smile. "That is the man I was telling you about! The one Meagan was to meet—Lion Hampshire."
"Are you joking?"
"No, of course not. And stop staring, Sally."
"Well, introduce us, then! I am consumed by curiosity!"
A moment later, Lion was greeted by the tall figure of John Jay, who lost no time in presenting his wife. Lion nearly closed his eyes after one look at her. The rosy cheeks, gleaming dark curls, and dancing eyes were wrenchingly familiar.
Sally felt the brown hand that held hers tighten almost reflexively and saw the pain that flared in his eyes.
"Captain Hampshire, are you unwell?"
Lion waited for the agony to subside and his wall of ice to slip back into place, protecting him from those emotions that made living worse than hell. Mrs. Jay's anxious gaze was like a steady flame that prevented the ice from setting.
"I—" A muscle moved in his jaw. "To be honest, Mrs. Jay, your enchanting face and manner remind me of someone I loved—and lost, recently."
"Oh, my! Captain Hampshire, I am so sorry! That must be the reason why you look so bitter—"
"Sally—" interjected John.
"You poor man. This is simply dreadful, especially at your age. Were there any children?"
"Sally!"
"It's all right, Mr. Jay." Lion's mouth hinted at a smile, the first in days. "No, there were no children. We were just on the verge of marriage."
Sally's great blue eyes shone with compassion. It seemed a tragedy beyond belief that two people as young and splendid as Lion Hampshire and Meagan Sayers should both be so sad during this wonderful, festive week.
John was watching Sally, his high forehead creased as he sensed her busy mind at work. He took full advantage of the opportunity to interrupt.
"Captain Hampshire, are you acquainted with Mr. Hamilton?"
"Yes, though I doubt that he would remember our meeting. I attended the Constitutional Convention, where he was a delegate."
Sally would not be turned aside so easily. "Captain Hampshire, I do hope you will forgive me for daring to interfere, but it breaks my heart to hear of your misfortune and to see you harden toward the rest of the world.
"It just so happens that we have a guest in our house whose circumstances are very similar to yours. She is a lovely girl. Perhaps you have heard John speak of Miss Sayers? The ordeal she has been through this winter has driven out all her natural gaiety. Even tonight—I had persuaded her to come along, but at the last minute, she couldn't face the crush."
Lion was afraid to reply, sensing what was ahead. "That does sound like a sad situation, Mrs. Jay," he murmured at last.
"Oh, Captain Hampshire, I know you will believe me an incorrigible meddler, but I cannot help thinking that you and Miss Sayers might be able to help each other! At least, it couldn't do any harm for you to meet—"
"Sally!" pleaded John.
"Well, it couldn't! Captain Hampshire, won't you agree to come home with us later tonight for a bit of brandy? If my friend could meet just one person, it might be the first step back into society for her."
Lion felt cornered. He was too charmed by Sally Jay to deliver the curt refusal any other woman would have received.
"Mrs. Jay, I am at your disposal."
As the clock struck ten, the white-wigged major domo intoned, "Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Reems!"
A radiant Priscilla moved beside her husband to meet Henry Knox, the convivial giant of a man who was called Washington's closest friend, and his wife, Lucy. They went on to greet a dozen other socially prominent couples. They had been in New York only a few hours, but Marcus had been determined to make an appearance at General Knox's.
The president-elect was due to arrive at any moment. Marcus stood in the large parlor, flawlessly attentive to his beautiful bride, but all the while looking for Lion. If he could have seen his brother through the walls, Marcus would have burned anew with frustrated rage.
Lion was in the library, in the middle of a group of the country's most influential men. Alexander Hamilton, graceful and courtly, stood to his left; John Adams, the plump and often pompous vice president-elect to his right. Also present were James Madison and John Jay.
They were involved in a heated discussion concerning the issue of the month: presidential etiquette. They argued back and forth, each with a different idea for General Washington's title. Hamilton commented that a Senate committee had voted for "His Highness the President of the United States of America and Protector of the Rights of the Same."
Madison wrinkled his nose and inquired reasonably, "As I have argued from the first, what is wrong with simply, 'President of the United States'?"
His round cheeks flushed, Adams launched into a speech that all had heard before. "What will the common people of foreign countries say when asked to speak to the President of the United States? They will despise him. The title 'Mr. President' would put him on a level with the governor of Bermuda!"
Lion stifled a yawn, remembering that Adams wanted the President to be known as "His Most Benign Highness." It was a variation on the same conversation at the Shippens' dinner over a month ago and Lion was still amazed that the men with whom he had longed to fraternize could waste their time on such a trivial subject. Why, Hamilton, Madison, and Jay were the authors of The Federalist Papers!
For his own part, he had drunk too much brandy and sunk back into his abyss of indifferent bitterness. He had hoped that coming to New York and mingling with the people who had inspired him in the past would rekindle the fires of his ambition. How desperately he needed a reason to live, or as Dr. Franklin had said, a passion.
Lion pressed a hand against his forehead, wishing he could remember how to cry. Alexander Hamilton was speaking in a most persuasive tone, but the words blurred by the time they reached his ear.
I can't go to the Jays' tonight, he thought wearily. The last thing I need is an introduction to some maiden who is afraid to leave her room!
He could feel someone watching him. Turning his head, he looked past Hamilton in the direction of the doorway. There, in the brightly lit hall, stood Clarissa, a vision in silver brocade and diamonds.
* * *
Clarissa had brought her abigail to New York, hoping to pass her off as a chaperone if anyone were to question her conduct. She had to pay an exorbitant price to get a pair of rooms in Widow Bradford's Coffee House, but suddenly it was worth it.
Lion had made a shockingly brief apology to John Jay and none at all to Sally. He even failed to notice the gold eyes that followed his every move. Within moments of first sighting Clarissa, he was walking with her out the front door of General Knox's house to the place where his post-chariot waited.
Clarissa was astonished. She wondered what could have happened to totally reverse her luck, but there was little time to ponder this mystery, for as soon as they were inside the carriage Lion reached for her.
Being in his arms after so long released such a flood of sharp pleasure in Clarissa that she thought she would faint. Hungrily, she touched his hard shoulders and
jaw, stroked his hair, inhaled his intoxicating scent, and met his lips with feverish ardor. So absorbed was she in her own need that she failed to notice Lion's response. He thrust her away at the same moment the post-chariot lurched to a stop before the coffee house which stood on the southeast corner of Wall and Water Streets.
By the time they entered her rooms, a vague fear had begun to take shape in Clarissa's breast. Lion had not met her eyes even once, though she watched him anxiously all the way upstairs. His handsome, arrogant face was as cold as a piece of sculpture, his eyes like splintered sapphires. He shut the door and reached out to catch her wrist, pulling her against him. Immediately, his mouth was on hers in a kiss as degrading as a stranger's rape while lean hands opened the priceless silver gown and found her breasts.
Lion's fingers had always been wickedly sensuous; the memory of their touch had haunted Clarissa's dreams for weeks. But now, he was taking her with deliberate cruelty. She pushed away just long enough to glimpse his face and was devastated by what she saw. There was no love, or even passion, in Lion's blue eyes—only contempt and raw pain.
Tears closed her throat. She began to tremble as the totality of all she had done assailed her, followed by the realization that she could never win Lion or his love.
"What the devil is wrong with you?" Lion demanded harshly.
She stumbled to the bed, choking back sobs. Lion turned his back and looked for a bottle of brandy or wine. Some brandy stood on Clarissa's dressing table, along with two glasses, but he filled only one. Briefly, he glanced back at the bed, but she continued to moan.
Damn it all, I can't even indulge my despicable impulses anymore! he thought. Who could have guessed that the most ready and eager wench of all would go to pieces on me?
Deciding to leave, he drank deeply of the brandy. Her jewelry case was open on the table and Lion momentarily entertained thoughts of reclaiming all the gems he had given her. A long emerald necklace hung over the side of the box, but when he reached for it, desiring nothing more than a closer look, Clarissa gasped a protest.
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