Folly's Bride

by Jane Peart

  At last the evening drew to an end, and at Katherine’s bidding, a circle was formed and the guests joined hands to sing “Auld Lang Syne” in the time-honored Scottish tradition. At the conclusion, Sara went to retrieve her wrap, and Katherine followed her into the downstairs bedroom used as a ladies’ “retiring room.”

  Alone in there, Katherine gave Sara an impulsive hug. “Sara, I have the most marvelous news! I cannot keep it to myself a minute longer! I have to tell someone. “Sara, I’m going to have a child!”

  Later, on the way back to Montclair in their horse-drawn sleigh, Sara was quiet. Even with Clay’s arm holding her close under the fur-lined robe, she felt cold and withdrawn. The gaiety and excitement of the evening had flown and she was strangely melancholy. Why on earth should she feel this way, she asked herself when, in Lucie’s words, she had “everything” to make her happy?

  They had been sitting under the trees on the velvety lawn when Lucie made a startling observation. “Well, Sara, who would ever have imagined that all your dreams would come true?”

  She gave a wry laugh. “What dreams?’ ”

  Her sister seemed puzzled, “Surely, you aren’t still thinking of Theo, after all I told you?”

  “But all that might not have happened if he and I—”

  “Oh, Sara, I hope you aren’t ever so foolish as to wish that things had turned out differently! If Theo were half the man Clayborn Montrose is—”

  These troubling thoughts came to a halt as the carriage drew up in front of Montclair.

  A fire was glowing in their bedroom fireplace, and Lizzie, who had waited up for her mistress, brought in a tray with a pot of hot chocolate and some fruitcake. She took Sara’s cape, offered her a warm mohair shawl, and drew her chair closer to the warmth of the fire.

  “Is there anything else you’d like me to do, Miss Sara?” she asked softly.

  “No, go to bed, Lizzie. I won’t need you anymore tonight,” Sara told her and the little maid left.

  Clay removed his jacket and flung it over the other wing chair opposite Sara’s before pouring them both a cup of hot chocolate.

  “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?” he asked, handing her a cup.

  Sara took a sip before replying. She studied her husband, wondering if she should express herself honestly. Actually, she had been thinking how much she would like to give a party at Montclair, a brilliant one that might rival the Camerons'. But that did not seem quite appropriate. Instead, she smiled and suggested, “It’s made me want to do some entertaining here. This is such a lovely house, and we have already acquired several social obligations we ought to return.”

  “Splendid idea!” Clay seemed enthusiastic. “Aunt Avril wasn’t much for party-giving, and Uncle Graham was rather reclusive. Besides, they seemed to have no need for other people in their lives, seemed to find each other sufficient.” He paused in reflection, then laughed. “Of course, we always had a houseful of Aunt Avril’s itinerant preachers! They’d start coming in the spring and kept on coming right on through the fall. Feeding the overflow from tent meetings and revivals was about the extent of their entertaining.”

  Clay, glancing over at Sara, thought How lovely she looks in the firelight. “I’m so glad you like the Camerons as much as I do, darling. Doug’s been my best friend since boyhood. And, of course, you and Katherine were schoolmates. What a wonderful couple they are!”

  Sara felt a prickle of irritation. She feigned a yawn before saying languidly, “Well, I do become a little weary of Doug’s constant fawning over Katherine.”

  Clay frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t you find Doug a bit uxorious? Every time he spoke to Katherine or about her, it was ‘my sweet Kate’ this, or ‘Kate, darling’ that!” Sara’s mimicry was tinged with sarcasm.

  Clay did not respond to her implied derision. Instead, he said thoughtfully, “Perhaps his tenderness shows the degree of intimacy they share.”

  Sara shrugged. “Perhaps,” she conceded, wishing now she had not said anything and hoping against hope that Clay was not angry with her for her comment about his friends.

  For a few minutes there was no sound in the room other than the crackle of the fire. She felt an unaccustomed uneasiness as Clay became silent, staring thoughtfully into the burning embers.

  At last he broke the silence. “I think Doug and Katherine are as close as two people can be. They seem to have a relationship something like Aunt Avril and Uncle Graham had—kindred spirits so close they can almost read each other’s thoughts, know what the other will say before he says a word.” Clay leveled his clear gaze on Sara. “Whereas with you, my darling—” He hesitated before continuing—“I adore you, Sara, but I don’t really know you. You are like that little desk you brought with you from Savannah—full of secret drawers, hidden places, and locked corners to which I have no key.”

  Icy fingers clutched Sara’s heart. He had compared her to the desk where the deepest secret of her heart was locked! Theo’s love letters! Could he have possibly guessed? No, of course not. Still, guilt was heavy upon her.

  Clay’s words hung there between them for a long moment, his eyes holding Sara’s until she could not look away. Slowly, she got up from her chair and came over to him, kneeling before him on the floor.

  “I don’t want to be like that, Clay. I want you to know me—as I am, with nothing tucked away, held back, kept from you. I want you to love me, just as I am, with no illusions, with all the crevices and cracks and flaws. That’s the only way I can feel safe. I love that little desk, not because it is valuable … it is veneered. But underneath, it is solid and sturdy and durable.” She looked long into his eyes. “You see only the polished surface of me. I want you to love the woman beneath!”

  Clay lifted Sara to her feet, took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. She heard him murmur her name against her lips. She held him, longing to be lost in strong, lasting love. This was the man she was committed to forever. With him she wanted to find the kind of happiness she had never known.

  On the second day of 1835 a cold, icy rain fell steadily, drumming a funereal beat on the roof and against the windows in sharp contrast to the spritely music Sara had danced to the night before.

  Restlessly, she roamed the house, moving from room to room as if searching for something. In the small music room stood an old-fashioned harpsichord in exile from an earlier day and replaced by the large piano now in residence at one end of the drawing room. As she stood there, sliding her hand along the covered keyboard, she wondered who had played it before, how it had come to be at Montclair. Never much of a musician herself, despite the hours of lessons she had endured, Sara nevertheless admired its quaint shape, the hand-painted floral designs on the finegrained wood, then noticed the framed sampler hanging above it.

  The yarn with which it had been embroidered was faded. Still, it was readable, and the name stitched at the bottom was NORAMARY MARSH MONTROSE A.D. 1745—almost one hundred years ago! Noramary, the first bride of Montclair. A turreted house at the top was identified as “My Birthplace,” MONKSMOOR PRIORY, Kent England; under that, a sailing ship named FAIR WINDS; next, a yellow cottage with picket fence, a row of flowers and then a Scripture verse, “Delight thyself in the Lord; and He will give thee the desires of thine heart—Psalm 37:4.”

  As Sara repeated the words aloud, she felt a pang of guilt. Since leaving school she had neglected Bible reading and daily devotionals. But the words of this verse were vaguely familiar and struck a responsive chord within her.

  What were the real “desires of her heart"? And if she knew and asked the Lord for them, would he give them to her?

  Sara wandered over to the window and stared out. The rain-soaked landscape was miserably dreary. Pressing her face against the panes, she was filled with an inexpressible longing. A longing for what?

  For some reason Kate Cameron came to mind. She saw Katherine’s radiant face when she had told Sara about the coming baby. She felt her h
eart contract. A baby, a son for Clay, a child to live in this house, make it a true home, inherit this beautiful place someday. Right then, Sara knew that was the real desire of her heart.

  Almost miraculously she felt calmer, and a kind of peace seemed to envelop her. Why had she not thought of it before? Maybe that was the missing piece, that void in her that never seemed to be filled.

  “Ask and ye shall receive.” Was it really that simple? All one had to do was ask?

  No, Sara thought. Surely it isn’t that easy. You have to be good for God to answer your prayers. She was far from good. Sara felt her face grow hot as she recalled all the countless small, mean, selfish things she had done in her life. She would have to be better, try harder.

  But Clay was good. Oh, yes, Clay was certainly “righteous” as the Bible said. And his Aunt Avril—surely her prayers were answered. She would write Avril and ask her to pray that she and Clay would have a child, a son!

  Yes, she would do that right away. Today!

  Part III

  Montcla

  Summer 1842

  chapter

  11

  ON THE SIDE LAWN Sara was supervising six-year-old Malcolm and Bryson, a sturdy two-year-old, playing with the five new setter puppies when Kate Cameron came riding up in her landau, escorted by the redheaded twins on their ponies.

  Kate waved her buggy whip and rounded the curve of the driveway before halting her high-stepping chestnut mare in the leafy shade of one of the giant elms.

  “Did the boys ride the whole way?” Sara asked, getting to her feet and walking over to greet Katherine.

  “Yes, indeed, they insisted, although I offered to spell them at the halfway point.” Katherine laughed, looking with pride at her twins as they dismounted and looped their reins over the black iron hitching post in front of the house.

  “And they’re only five!” mused Sara, mentally deciding to increase Malcolm’s practice hours in the riding ring. She was determined Rod and Stewart Cameron’s equestrian skills would not surpass her son’s, even though he was a full year older.

  Sara was no longer so conscious of her deep-rooted, though subtle, rivalry with Katherine Cameron except when it came to the boys. She intended them to excel in everything. Secretly she knew she could not compete with Kate in most aspects—sterling character, her reputation as a hostess—unless it was, perhaps, on horseback. She only knew she wanted her sons to be the best riders in Mayfield County.

  Katherine followed the twins as they ran over to inspect the puppies, that were tumbling all over each other.

  “What darlings!” Katherine said, bending over to touch one’s soft furriness.

  “The twins can choose one each to take home—if you’ll allow it,” offered Sara.

  “Are you sure? That’s very generous, Sara.”

  “Yes, they’re almost weaned and in another week or so, they’ll be quite ready to be on their own.”

  The two women settled themselves on the swing beneath the shade of the sweeping elm, watching affectionately the four little boys playing with the puppies—two curly-haired carrot tops, Malcolm’s dark silky head and Bryson’s cornsilk blond one, all bumping together along with the scrambling brown-white-and-gold wriggling bodies of the pups.

  “What do you hear from Savannah, Sara?” Kate asked.

  “Not much recently. Lucie is so busy with her new house. They’re building on land given to them by Brockton’s father for a wedding present.”

  “It’s too bad you weren’t able to attend her wedding, Sara.”

  “Well, yes, but I was expecting Bryson at the time, you may recall, and it was impossible for me to travel so far.”

  “Of course, nothing is worth risking losing a baby for,” sighed Katherine. Both were silent for a moment, remembering the disappointment Kate had experienced when she had suffered a miscarriage with her first pregnancy.

  So grieved were the Camerons over the loss of their expected child that Sara and Clay tried to minimize their own joy at Malcolm’s birth for their friends’ sake. But then eighteen months later, the twins were born and Kate and Doug were ecstatic. As if not to be outdone, the next year Sara had Bryson.

  Sara and Katherine chatted about mutual Mayfield friends and upcoming social events while the children played.

  “Why don’t we go inside and have tea?” Sara suggested after several pleasant minutes. “I’ll have Becca come out to mind the boys.”

  On the porch Ruffy, now old, fat, and arthritic, struggled to his feet from the place where he had been sleeping in the sun, and followed his mistress into the house. It was pleasantly cool inside, in contrast to the warm spring afternoon.

  Sara led the way into the drawing room. She went over to the fireplace and tugged the embroidered bell pull. Almost immediately a woman servant appeared.

  “Yes’m, Miz Sara?” She bobbed a little curtsy.

  “Lu, please bring us tea and some of the lemon poppyseed cake and tell Becca to go out to the children. She can take them some grape juice and cookies,” Sara instructed. “And tell her to hurry.” Casting a watchful eye out the window, she continued, “Bryce tries so hard to do everything Malcolm does. I can’t leave them alone for a minute. They’re busy with the puppies now, but if they should decide to get on the ponies—” Sara stood there until she saw Becca coming around the side of the house, then she turned back to Kate.

  “Would you believe that Bryce cries when I put on my riding habit? I have to set him up on the saddle in front of me and ride around the circle a few times. Then, when I hand him back to Becca, he starts wailing again. I declare, he’s going to be an Arab on horseback.”

  “And what about Malcolm?” asked Kate.

  “Oh, he’s fearless, a natural. Of course, I put him on his own pony when he was three. I’m beginning to teach him to jump,” Sara said proudly.

  “Like mother, like son,” commented Kate. “I’ve never known anyone as brave on a horse as you, Sara.”

  “Clay would call it reckless, I’m afraid.”

  “But he doesn’t seem to object,” Kate remarked.

  “Object? He wouldn’t dare!” Sara spoke with mock indignation and yet there was a trace of seriousness underlying her words.

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t doubt that for a minute. After he agreed to let you drop the word obey from your marriage vows, Clay didn’t stand a chance!”

  Sara pretended shock. “How did you know that?”

  “Oh, come, Sara, it was the talk of the town after your wedding!”

  “Savannah has little enough to talk of then!” she retorted haughtily, then gave an amused shrug. “Actually, I was just so nervous repeating the vows that I simply forgot to say all the words.”

  “Sara! You really expect me to believe that?” scoffed Kate.

  “Believe what you like!” Sara’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

  “Don’t forget, Sara, I was at school with you. I know about some of your pranks!”

  “Ah, dear old Madame Couvoisier’s!” Sara rolled her eyes. “How did we ever live through it all? Those dreary lessons, being made to sit straight against a backboard, and only allowed to speak French at meals! I nearly starved to death my first year until I learned at least to say passez moi la panne and cafe au lait s’il vous plait!”

  “Well, at least we came out with good posture and a smattering of French.” Kate smiled.

  When the tea tray was brought in, cups poured, cake passed, Katherine launched another discussion. “Did I tell you I am going to take the boys to my parents for a visit in the fall?”

  “You’re going to Savannah?”

  “Yes, in October.”

  Sara’s hand holding her teacup began to tremble, and she set it down. She was suddenly seized with a rush of her old anger at her stepmother, a deep resentment that Katherine could so easily “go home” while she remained an exile from her father’s house. Georgina had made it no secret she was glad to have Sara out of her life.

  Unawa
re of her hostess’s inner distress, Katherine went on. “Yes, Papa has not been too well lately, and Mama doesn’t want to leave him, so my going there seems the best plan.”

  “How long will you be gone?” Sara asked through stiff lips.

  “About a month. Douglas will join us later and bring us back before Christmas. Actually, it is going to be something of a family reunion. Some of mother’s relatives are planning to visit at the same time.”

  Sara, who had picked up her teacup again, felt her fingers grip the delicate handle tightly. Would the “reunion” include the Maitlands’ relatives from Charleston, the Richardsons? She wondered, but would not allow herself to ask.

  “I’m going to the Springs in a few weeks myself,” Sara told Kate, only that minute making up her mind to do so.

  “Oh, aren’t you well, Sara?” There was a questioning concern in Kate’s glance.

  “I’m fine. I just feel the urge to get away for a while. The children are so demanding, don’t you agree? It is so restorative there. I come back feeling full of life and energy.”

  “But you never seem to be any other way, Sara.”

  “Yes, but there they encourage women to be more active. I’m afraid we are much too pampered here. Look how long the doctors want to keep you in bed after having a baby! Six weeks! Why, I’d be as weak as a kitten if I stayed confined that long!”

  “But, surely, the doctors know what is best—” Kate sounded doubtful.

  “Dr. Erling? He’s a nice old gentleman, Kate, but not at all advanced. I simply refused to follow his instructions after I had Bryce. I learned from having Malcolm that it wasn’t necessary for me to be so inactive.” Sara lowered her voice conspiratorily. “In fact, Kate, I read recently that hydropathists declare that a great deal of the pain of childbirth women endure can be prevented!”

  “How?” asked Kate, leaning forward, evidently remembering the twins’ birth.