by Jane Peart
The words that fell so lightly from Jeffs lips sank like weighted stones into Faith's heart. Jeff was going away again. Who knew when he would be back this time? Or how his experiences with a new group of kindred spirits would shape him? And what if, in that fabled country of lovers, he met someone who would capture his heart as Faith had not yet been able to do?
Part II
Invitation Extended
Invitation Received
A Family Reunion
Spring 1897
O call back yesterday, bid time return——
Shakespeare, Richard II
chapter
7
Belvedere Square
London, England
WHEN FAITH came down to breakfast, her parents were already seated at the table. As she entered the dining room, her mother looked up.
"Good morning, darling." Garnet's bright smile faded as she watched her daughter bypass the chafing dish of eggs, the hot plate of bacon and sausages, the silver rack of toast on the well-laden sideboard and pour herself a cup of coffee. "Is that all you're having?"
'This is fine, Mummy. I'm really not hungry."
"That's no breakfast at all," Garnet declared reproachfully. "Certainly not when you're spending all day with Lydia Ainsley at that dreadful . . . place."
Faith took a sip of coffee, bracing herself for one of her mother's tirades about her work at Hampton House. Garnet was vehemently opposed to her helping two days a week in the soup kitchen run by Lydia and a group of her like-minded friends.
Hoping to divert a prolonged argument before it began, Faith glanced over at her father and caught the unspoken caution in the eyes regarding her over the top of his newspaper. She had to suppress a smile. Knowing him so well, she realized that he was hoping there wouldn't be one of the frequent clashes of will between the two strong-minded women in his family.
"Good morning, Papa."
"Good morning, my dear," replied Jeremy, trying to conceal his concern as he looked at his daughter. To his way of thinking, Faith was much too thin these days, her cheekbones sharp under the shadowed eyes. What was troubling her? Jeremy wished he knew. He had given her everything a daughter could possibly want—or at least, he had tried. Why then were her eyes often so sad, her smile so wistful? Could it be something she was hiding from them? Some unhappy love affair, some failed romance?
Jeremy knew that Garnet had hoped Faith would make a brilliant marriage following her debutante season. But that had not happened. Now Faith seemed less inclined than ever to participate in the social scene unless pressured into an obligatory attendance somewhere.
"So what do you think, Jeremy?"
The slightly annoyed tone in his wife's voice let him know he must have missed her question. As it turned out, it was Faith's enthusiastic response that gave him the gist of Garnet's proposal.
"A family reunion this summer at Birchfields?" Faith exclaimed. "Oh, I think that's a wonderful idea, Mummy. Do you suppose they will all come? Druscilla and the girls? Jonathan and Davida? And Uncle Rod and Jeffs mother, too?"
"Well, that's what I'm hoping. I'm writing them today so they'll have plenty of time to make their plans and book passage. They could probably all come on board the same ship. Wouldn't that be a lark? To have us all together again—wouldn't Mama have loved it?" Garnet paused for a moment, an expression of sadness clouding her face. "Actually, now that she's gone, I feel it's more important than ever for the rest of us to stay close. That is, as close as possible with everyone scattered to the ends of the earth! It's not like the good old days when Montclair and Cameron Hall were only a horseback ride away and we saw each other often."
"So when will they come?" Jeremy asked, now aware that the next major event on their social calendar would be a family house party.
"I've asked them to come at the end of May when we can be fairly sure the weather will be nice. Cool by Virginia standards, but pleasantly warm here. By then the gardens at Birchfields should be beautiful, and we can enjoy lots of outdoor activities—tennis, swimming, boating on the lake—And, of course, I'll plan some wonderful parties and supper dances for the young people." Garnet clapped her hands together girlishly. "Oh, it will be such fun!"
"And we can take them sightseeing as well," Faith suggested. 'They'll want to see the Tower of London and Westminster Cathedral—"
"And don't forget that this is Jubilee Summer—the sixtieth year of the reign of Queen Victoria," Jeremy broke in, catching the spirit of the idea. "There should be some special events—parades and such, I'd think. Maybe they'll even be able to catch a glimpse of the old lady herself out in her carriage, reviewing her troops!"
"Well, it sounds like an exciting summer ahead," said Faith, finishing her coffee and standing up. "I'll be happy to help with the planning. Won't it be wonderful to see the cousins again? I haven't seen the Bondurants, Lally and Lenora, since . . , well, since Uncle Rod's wedding to Aunt Blythe."
"And we've never seen Druscilla's own little girl, Evalee," her mother reminded her.
"Nor have we met Jonathan and Davida's children," Faith said as she came to drop a kiss on her mother's smooth cheek. "I must go now, but we'll have plenty of time to discuss all this later."
"Now, don't be too late, dear. You always come home so worn out from your days at that place," Garnet said petulantly.
"I'll try to be home early," Faith promised, giving her father a hug. "Good-bye, Papa."
"Have a good day, dear girl," Jeremy said, clasping the hand she put on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
His eyes followed her as she left the room, thinking of what a strikingly handsome young woman his daughter had matured into—tall and slim, with glossy dark hair, and bright, intelligent eyes, even if her chin was perhaps a trifle too square for classic perfection. If only he could be sure she was happy—
"I wish we could do something to keep Faith from traipsing down to those awful slums and exposing herself to who knows what!" Garnet said peevishly. "Sometimes I could just wring Lydia Ainsley's neck for encouraging Faith in her own particular brand of good works!"
"They do a lot of good, my dear. From what Faith tells me, conditions are extremely bad for those people, the women and children particularly. Why, I've heard that Lydia's friends provide the only square meal that some of them get in a week. Frankly," he said, squinting at her over his spectacles, "I'm glad that our daughter has a compassionate heart."
Garnet's eyes widened and she drew herself up indignantly. "But, Jeremy, we do a great deal for the village people in Glenmere when we're down at Birchfields! Why, I'm always sending baskets of fruit and vegetables to the vicarage to be placed in the poor boxes. And sometimes I go with the vicar's wife and some of the others in the Ladies' Guild to visit the sick and poor. Isn't that enough?"
"You do your part, my dear, but you mustn't discourage Faith when she chooses to help in other ways," Jeremy remonstrated gently. "She isn't a child anymore, you know."
"Don't I know that? She's twenty-three and no nearer to being engaged than she was five years ago when she came out! I declare, I sometimes wonder at poor Neil Blanding's patience. He still has hopes, I presume." She let out a long sigh.
Jeremy folded up the newspaper that he had not had a chance to finish reading and rose from the table.
"Well, my darling, I must be off to the office. I have a new author to interview today before taking him to lunch at the club."
Walking over to Garnet, he looked down into her uplifted face, leaned down and kissed her tenderly, once, then again. Even after all these years, Jeremy still found his wife alluring and lovely.
"Have an enjoyable day, Garnet, love. I do think your plan for a family reunion at Birchfields during Jubilee summer is a capital idea."
After Jeremy left. Garnet remained at the table, working out the details of the marvelous plan she had devised. Absentmindedly, she started to take another slice of bacon but stopped herself mid-reach, giving a sigh of resignation
. At forty-seven, one ought to be able to eat what one wanted without worry! But not with today's fashions!
The new "hour-glass" figure did not allow for a single extra bulge or an inch if one were to keep the "wasp waist" it decreed. Not even her daily horseback ride whether along London's Rotten Row or in the country lanes around Birchfields insured that. So she must watch the temptation to overindulge in fattening foods.
Resolutely, she pushed back her chair and stood up. While she was out riding this morning, she would think about the entertainment for her guests this summer. Soon she should be getting letters of acceptance from her brother Rod and Blythe, from dear Jonathan and his wife, Davida, at Montclair, and from Druscilla— Here, Garnet paused. Would Dru's husband, the aloof Randall Bondurant, agree to come to a family reunion? Maybe after all these years, he had decided to let bygones be bygones, although Garnet knew for a fact that his first wife Alair's parents, Aunt Harmony and Uncle Clint Chance, had never really forgiven him for, as they told it, "driving Alair to an early grave."
Ah, well, whoever came or did not come, she would make them all welcome and do everything possible to make this an unforgettable summer for everyone.
She picked up the London Times that Jeremy had discarded at his place, her eyes traveling casually over the page that he had folded back. Then she saw something that caught her attention—the lead in bold type of Grace Comfort's "Moment of Inspiration" column—and read:
We can make of our lives what we will, nettles and thorns that wound others—or give off a fragrance that beautifies and delights. Give and receive, share everything you have.
Don't horde, or store, open both hands, Be joyously generous to what life demands, Sharing and caring, kindness and love Are gifts to the soul from the Creator above. Of your talents and abilities give the best. If you are the giver, you'll be the blest.
"What drivel!" Garnet exclaimed as she flung the paper down in exasperation. "Now why on earth would Jeremy have circled this?"
chapter
8
Cameron Hall
Mayfield, Virginia
"WATCH ME, Mama, watch me!"—eight-year-old Scott Cameron, mounted on his gray Shetland, called to his mother, who was standing on the stone terrace steps.
"I'm watching, darling!" Blythe called back, exchanging a proud glance with Rod, who was standing alongside the boy and his pony.
"Ready, Scott?" asked his father.
"Ready," the boy replied, leaning forward.
Rod gave the pony a slap on its hindquarters, then stepped back as the pony started at a trot and headed toward the low hedge at the end of the lawn. As they took it easily, Rod shouted, "Good jump, Scott!"
Scott turned his pony around and trotted back.
"Now it's my turn. My turn, Papa!" Six-year-old Katherine tugged at her father's arm.
"All right, Miss Impatience, your turn." Rod laughed, turning to the little girl, who was jumping up and down.
"No! It's mine! I'm next, aren't I, Papa!" protested Carmella.
"Now, just a minute, you two," said Rod, casting a perplexed glance at his wife, who shrugged as if to say, "You deal with it."
"Here, I'll tell you what. Scott will get down, and Kitty can ride Doby this time, and Cara can take Cleo," Rod suggested.
"I want to have my own pony!" declared Carmella sulkily. "It isn't fair."
"But, sweetheart, was it fair that you rode your own pony too hard yesterday, and poor Clancy went lame?" her father reminded her. "Now don't pout. Look what a good sport Scott is to let Kitty ride his pony." Rod lifted his daughter up into the saddle of the other pony, a gleaming cinnamon color.
Carmella picked up the reins in small gloved hands but looked straight ahead, not down at her father.
"Scott, run down to the stable and get Jed to saddle Pacer for you to ride. We'll meet you down at the pasture gate."
Blythe silently complimented her husband on his diplomacy. For a man who had come to parenthood late in life, Rod was a devoted father who took obvious pride in his children.
Scott dismounted and set off at a run toward the stone stables visible from the house. Rod then swung his second daughter up into the saddle of the gray pony. Kitty straightened her shoulders, then cast a dimpled glance toward her mother.
Blythe clapped her hands and nodded approvingly to Kitty, at the same time glancing at Cara's stubborn little profile. How different their two daughters were, in spite of their being "mirror-image" twins—Kitty, right-handed; Cara, left-handed. Although physically almost identical, the two sisters could not have been more unlike in character and personality. Kitty, who had been named for Rod's late mother, Katherine Maitland, seemed to have inherited many of the qualities of her gentle grandmother. Cara was christened Carmella after Blythe's Spanish mother who had been a gypsy dancer whom she could not even remember. Was it possible that Cara's fiery temper, her independence, and tendency to dramatize herself came from this unknown source?
A moment later Rod mounted his own horse and, with a word to the twins, started along the drive to the place where Scott was to meet them at the entrance into the woods.
"Have a good ride!" Blythe called after them.
When the riders disappeared, she returned to her chair on the sunny veranda and picked up the letter she had left on the table when Scott summoned her to watch his jump.
It was from Rod's sister, Garnet, and Blythe reread it with mixed feelings. She and Garnet went back many years, not always pleasant ones. When Blythe had first come to Virginia as Malcolm Montrose's bride, she did not know that Garnet had been in love with him for most of her life or that the then widowed Garnet had hoped to marry Malcolm herself After all, she had taken care of his invalid mother and his little boy, Jonathan, after the death of his first wife, Rose. Malcolm had been away, fighting with the Confederate Army, Afterward, still reeling from the tragic accident, he had fled to California, where he had met Blythe. When he returned home at last, bringing another bride, it was, in Garnet's mind, a betrayal.
Of course, that was all in the past. They were both now happily married for the second time, to devoted husbands. This scrap of history should not influence Blythe's decision to accept or refuse Garnet's gracious invitation to spend the Jubilee summer at her English country place.
Besides, it would be an unexpected opportunity to see Jeff, her son by Malcolm, now studying art in London. She had not seen him for almost two years. His last visit to Virginia had not been a particularly happy time, and she was eager to make amends.
Her husband, Jeff's stepfather, had not been pleased with her son's decision to drop his architectural studies at Oxford University to become an artist. When Rod had suggested that Jeff apply to the University of Virginia, hoping that the boy would eventually go into the Cameron family business of raising thoroughbreds, he was not the least bit interested.
"You'll have to wait for Scott, I guess" had been Jeffs indifferent response to his stepfather's suggestion.
Although Rod had not said much, Blythe knew that he disapproved strongly of Jeffs change of plans. To Rod, Jeff's artistic ambitions seemed impractical and foolish. But she was caught squarely in the middle between the two men she loved dearly. Defending one to the other was increasingly painful.
During his last visit to Virginia, Jeff had spent a great deal of time at Avalon in Arbordale, the home where he and Blythe had lived before her marriage to Rod Cameron. Although the house had been rented several times over the years, it was now unoccupied. Jeff would be gone for hours, riding on the bridle paths that wound through the beautiful woodland surrounding the island estate he had known as a boy, revisiting all his secret places, she learned later. He would return from these solo excursions, silent and thoughtful.
Blythe sensed Rod's resentment of the time Jeff spent at Avalon, even though she completely understood what it meant to her son. It was his property, and his affection for it bordered on the same kind of feelings that Rod had for Cameron land.
When h
e married Blythe, Rod had wanted to adopt Jeff legally, make him his heir. But at sixteen, Jeff had rejected the idea. He reminded his mother that he was a Montrose, with his own heritage, one as long and honorable as Rod's. In fact, the Montrose family had come to Virginia from Scotland at the same time as the Camerons. Although Jeff had been cheated out of his right to Montclair through Cousin Druscilla Bondurant's deeding it to Jonathan, Jeffs half-brother, Avalon belonged to Jeff.
It was with a measure of surprise and a great deal of satisfaction that Blythe had first recognized her son's strong family ties. She hoped that he would one day come back to Virginia to live. But while he remained in England, she wanted, needed to make this trip.
Blythe's close friends and Jeff's godparents, the Ainsleys, saw him often, and Lydia wrote that he seemed well and happy with his career choice. In Garnet's letters, too, there was a frequent mention of Jeff's visits to Birchfields and how fond they all were of him.
Blythe felt a twinge of jealousy. She envied both Lydia and Garnet for being able to enjoy Jeff's company, his dynamic presence. Quickly she rejected that emotion as unworthy. She ought to be glad that Garnet and Lydia welcomed Jeff so warmly and made him feel at home. But she could not shake the fear that he was beginning to feel more English than American.
That thought brought a sense of guilt. If he did, it was her own fault. Hadn't she fled to England after the shock of Malcolm's death and the loss of Montclair because of his gambling debt? Maybe that was why Rod never wanted to visit England again, since it was there that Blythe had hidden herself for so long. He had searched everywhere after she disappeared.
Blythe sighed. There were other reasons, too, why her husband might not want to go. If ever a man loved his own native land and birthplace, it was Rod Cameron. He had inherited Cameron Hall and its vast acreage from a long line of prestigious ancestors, beginning with the stalwart Scotsmen who had come to Virginia before the American Revolution to tame the wilderness. Until the birth of their little son, Scott, Rod had been the only remaining male descendant.