by Jane Peart
Lenora started to say something, but Victor wouldn't let her interrupt.
"So, you see, I'm a fraud, my dear. Not in your class at all."
Before Lenora could protest, Victor caught her hands and clasped them tightly.
Then, before either of them could speak, Laity's voice broke in. "Noey! Come! They're about to give prizes for the best costumes, and they're calling for Columbine and Harlequin. Come along, you two, you've won!"
Lenora rushed through her packing and, leaving Lally to hunt for missing odds and ends, hurried up on deck, looking for Victor. Last night, after they had been awarded their prizes for the most original costumes, they had been surrounded by admiring people offering congratulations and compliments on their clever idea. Later they joined the other prizewinners at a special table where a sumptuous midnight supper was served. There Dru and Randall, with Lalage, had stopped by to escort Lenora back to her stateroom. There had not been another minute all evening to be alone with Victor.
Lenora had awakened early. She was dressing quietly so as not to disturb the still sleeping Lalage when the steward had rapped at the door and left Victor's usual offering. Today his note accompanied a small package containing a tiny sterling silver cornucopia pin, holding a white rosebud. The words he quoted from Tennyson held an ominous note of finality that frightened Lenora.
Their meeting made December June,
Their every parting was to die.
Surely, he wasn't saying good-bye! Surely he didn't think they would never see each other again! She must find Victor and ask him to explain.
Arriving on deck, Lenora realized they must already be docking, for passengers were crowded two deep at the rail. England! They were landing, and there would only be a half hour at most for her to find Victor, talk to him, make plans__
She quickened her pace, scanning the crowd, searching for that familiar figure, hoping he might be looking for her, too. The crowds thronging the passageways and decks increased until Lenora felt the huge ship shudder as its hull scraped the side of the dock and eased into the slip. Hordes of people eager to disembark were pushing toward the gangway, while those who had been waiting for the travelers to arrive were hurrying up on deck to meet them. It was impossible!
Lenora heard her name called and whirled around to see Lally, holding onto her hat, being jostled and elbowed as she made her way toward her sister.
"Noey, where have you been?" Lally sounded exasperated, "Everyone's been looking for you! Drucie was frantic and Papa was getting very annoyed."
"I was—" started Lenora, who then decided that there was no point in trying to explain, since her search had been fruitless anyway.
Somehow she had missed Victor. He had not given her his London address although he knew where to find her, knew that she would be spending the summer at Birchfields. Still, his strange outpouring to her the night before had filled her with uncertainty. What had he meant? Would she ever see or hear from him again?
"Oh, look, there's Uncle Jeremy Devlin!" exclaimed Lally, pointing to a tall, distinguished-looking gentleman with dark hair silvered at the temples. He was standing at the top of the gangplank in earnest conversation with another man.
Following the direction of her sister's pointed finger, Lenora felt instant relief. The man Jeremy was talking to so intently was Victor. She broke away from Lally and started to push her way toward the two men, but before she could reach them, they shook hands. Victor tipped his hat and, followed by his valet who had been waiting behind him, was immediately swallowed up in the crowd surging down the gangplank.
Lenora halted, dismayed. Why hadn't Victor sought her out to say good-bye? She touched the small silver pin on her dress lapel under her coat. Surely he would get in touch with her—and since he seemed to know Uncle Jeremy—
So many questions rushed into Lenora's mind, yet one constant remained. She was sure that Victor loved her, and she knew now that she loved him. This just could not be the end of the most thrilling, the most important thing that had ever happened to her!
Part IV
Jubilee Summer
In England
Summer 1897
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds and bowers—
Of June and July flowers.
Of bridegrooms and brides—
—Robert Herrick
chapter
15
ALMOST FROM the moment she set foot on English soil, Lenora felt a sense of homecoming. Although she had not been here since she was a little girl, it seemed as if everything had a familiarity about it.
Maybe it was because this was Victor's birthplace—the city he knew, as he said, like the back of his hand. He had told her about his apartment in London and that he was looking for a place in the country, somewhere peaceful and serene where he could write.
So, approaching Birchfieids, Lenora's first thought was how much Victor would love it. As they left the quaint timbered train station and drove through the village with its cluster of small gray stone cottages, his presence seemed to hover everywhere. Passing a picturesque, ivy-hung church, they started down the winding country road to the Devlins' house. June roses in riotous bloom tumbled over meadow walls and fences. She inhaled deeply, thinking that never again would she be able to smell that strong sweet perfume without Victor's image flooding her senses. Victor, Victor, where are you?
When she saw the house—its gabled roof, the diamond-paned windows, the yards of velvety lawn stretching out to the graceful birches growing along the riverbank—it, too, seemed strangely familiar. This would be the kind of place where Victor would like to live, she thought, adding, And so would L
What bliss it would be to walk beside that river, hand in hand with him, hearing his rich, mellow voice reciting poetry: "Come live with me and be my love"—
They had talked much of poetry, of books they had read, paintings they admired, music—and their own thoughts. He had never seemed a stranger, not even from the beginning. In fact, it seemed most unusual how soon she had known that she loved him. Despite his latest revelation, she had sensed in him a depth of thought and emotion, a tenderness of heart and spirit that had drawn her to him. It was a rare thing in any two people, she felt sure, but to find it in someone of such disparate background, experience, and age . . . well, this must be a miracle!
Yet how could she tell anyone that she had fallen desperately in love with the discreet and elusive Victor Ridge-way? What would her parents say, especially her father? And who would believe that someone like Victor could love her in return?
She touched the small silver cornucopia pinned to the inside of her jacket lapel, not wishing to show it to anyone yet nor to have anyone question her about it. Not even Lally. She glanced at her sister with a twinge of guilt. Lally hadn't guessed her real feelings for Victor, nor had she told the younger girl about their midnight kiss on the deck the night of the costume ball.
Uppermost in her mind, however, was when .. . . or if. . . Victor would try to get in touch with her. Had she given him the address of the Devlins' home in the country? Everything had been so rushed, so confusing those last few hours, she could not be sure. All she knew for certain was that she was in love—deeply, ecstatically, completely in love—for the first time . . . and forever.
Lenora's private worries were temporarily forgotten as they entered the front hall of Birchfields. Paneled in dark, polished oak, the hall gave way to a wide stairway leading upward from a pair of heavy, carved posts. A huge fireplace whose hearth must surely beckon with roaring fires on a blustery winter evening, now displayed a large blue-and-white vase holding purple hydrangeas.
On the walls the portraits of bewigged gentlemen wearing ruffled jabots glared down out of their ornate frames at the intruders.
"They came with the house!" Garnet explained airily. "So we left them up. They add a touch of English aristocracy, don't you think?"
"What a magnificent place, Aunt Garnet," Lenora said, looking around, though she could not
help thinking how very different was this Tudor mansion from their home on the beach in South Carolina with its wrap-around veranda, its windows looking out to the sky and sea, its feeling of openness.
On the contrary, this brooding house held a hint of tragedy. Her aunt's next words confirmed her first impression.
"I don't know all the details, but this house has a dark history. The former owners told us that there is supposed to be a secret room somewhere, a place where fugitive priests were hidden during Cromwell's time when Catholics were persecuted in England. But they could never find it. And neither could we—" She laughed—"although 1 believe Faith and Jeff have searched for it many times!"
As if by magic, three young women in frilly white caps and aprons appeared, and Garnet directed them to take her guests to their rooms. The one assigned to Lenora and Lalage, a pretty, pleasant girl named Annie, bobbed a little curtsy and led the way upstairs.
"I'm really Miss Faith's maid," she told them, as she opened the door to a spacious room with flowered chintz curtains at the windows and twin brass beds covered in the same matching fabric. "But I'm to help you ladies while you're here. There's the bellpull right beside the fireplace." She pointed it out. "It rings down in the servant's hall. If you want anything I haven't seen to, all you have to do is pull it." She stood and looked about with a frown, as if checking to see if everything was in order, then gave a nod and quietly left them,
Lalage, looking at her sister with eyes twinkling, clapped a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle. In the Bondurant family, with only four house servants and a cook, no one had a personal maid! In fact, at Hurricane Haven, her father and Dru insisted that the household should be run casually and without fuss. So this would be a unique experience.
Lenora shrugged and flung out her hands. "So . . . when in Rome?"
"Oh, Noey, this is going to be such fun!" Lalage sighed happily and pirouetted across the room.
Lenora had to agree that it was certainly promising, but she was still preoccupied with Victor and how he would get in touch with her so as not to raise eyebrows or questions.
This worry was quickly put to rest when a few days later a package arrived, addressed to Dru from Victor, containing a book and a note in which he expressed pleasure in having met her and the Bondurant family on board ship and the hope that their paths might cross again. Would Dru be so kind as to allow Miss Lenora to accept his small gift on the subject they had discussed often when he had the pleasure of her company? It was all very proper, and Dru could see nothing untoward in either the note or the gesture.
The tide of the gift book was innocuous enough—A Collection of the Best-Loved British Poetry. However, Lenora did not share the note she found slipped between the pages, as if marking the Shakespearean sonnet that began: "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely—" Nor did she show anyone the inscription he had written on the flyleaf: "I remember the way we parted, the day and the way we met—Ever devotedly, Victor Ridgeway."
She slipped the note into her pocket to read again in the privacy of a special place she had found—the maze of boxwood in the Devlins' garden:
As I write this, sweet Lenora, I am in turmoil. My mind bids me be sensible. My heart tells me you will respond to what I say. The dream planted in my soul when we met is so special that I hardly dare put it into words. If there is a possibility that our friendship holds something deeper for you as well, will you write and let me know the true feelings of your heart? If I have misread them, simply do not reply—I will understand. Just know I shall never forget you.
Lenora's heart leaped as she read Victor's words over and over. She felt like shouting, like singing, like doing a thousand ridiculous things that a proper young lady would never think of doing! Victor loved her! Victor Ridgeway—man of the world, handsome, sophisticated but sensitive, and kind as well—really loved her! She had not dreamed it!
But what now? Of course, she would respond to his note. But how? What would she say? If she told him how she really felt—Lenora put both hands up to her flaming cheeks. A whole world of possibilities swung open to her, a world she had barely imagined!
Quickly she folded the note and tucked it into the bodice of her dress, next to her heart. Later, when she was alone in her room, she would think through her reply to him.
chapter
16
WITHIN A SHORT time the guests at Birchfields had settled into a pleasurable routine. There was never any lack of something to do—an expedition to view some historic site, winding paths to stroll, a leisurely game of lawn tennis or croquet with other houseguests. Or, if one were so inclined, one might paddle a canoe on the quiet lake or retreat to a hammock under a shady tree for reading or a discreet nap.
The summer could not have turned out more happily as far as the children were concerned. This could be attributed in large part to Phoebe McPherson, the delightful young Scotswoman that Garnet had hired as their temporary nanny for the summer. Glowing with vibrant health and energy, she had a lovely smile and the tiniest burr in her speech that immediately inspired the children's loyalty and their parents' confidence.
To Dru's immense relief, Phoebe's way of making everything seem an adventure succeeded in causing Evalee to give up her high-and-mighty "I'm too old for this" stance and join Scott, Kitty, and Carmella on many an outing.
Even though she adored her daughter, Dru had begun to recognize some deplorable traits in the little girl. While Evalee still had a child's natural charm, she was beginning to develop an art of manipulation that concerned her mother. What she had previously acquired through tantrums and naughtiness, she now tried to gain by resorting to more subtle tactics, so it appeared to Dru.
"That Miss McPherson is remarkable," Dru said to Jonathan one morning as they sat on the terrace, watching her with the four children.
"Yes, indeed," agreed Jonathan, wishing with all his heart that his own Kendall and Meredith could be enjoying her blend of magic—getting the children to behave in acceptable ways while still having much light-hearted fun.
"She's quite intelligent and independent," Dru told him. "From what she tells me, she has goals and ambitions beyond her present position as a governess. In fact, she is thinking of emigrating either to Australia or the States. More opportunities for women there, she says."
"What kind of opportunities? Marriage?"
He gave the young woman in question a long appraising look. Even from this distance, Miss McPherson, rosy-cheeked from the game of tag she was playing, presented a very appealing picture.
"No, I don't think so. She says she has heard that women may own property, buy land, that sort of thing. She said she's even read about women ranching in the American West!"
Jonathan let out a low whistle. "Well then, I would say she's quite a different sort of young lady indeed."
Dru laughed. "Of course, that could all change if the right man comes along, I suppose. I think of my own days as a governess. As you know, I married my employer!"
"Yes, but that was quite different. Besides—" Jonathan smiled—"I think Jeremy Devlin is out of the running. Incidentally, doesn't Aunt Garnet look splendid? She ages hardly at all," he commented, just as their aunt's tall, slim figure appeared at the terrace entrance.
It was several days later before Jonathan had occasion to become better acquainted with Phoebe McPherson due to a chance encounter in the downstairs hail. He was looking through the mail to see if there just might be a letter from Davida when Miss McPherson came down the stairs.
"Good morning," he greeted her.
"Good morning, sir. Has the post come?"
"Yes, and I hope you'll be luckier than I," Jonathan said with a slightly rueful smile after failing to find any mail from Massachusetts.
"Oh, I wasn't expecting anything. Just wanted to drop off a letter to go," she told him. "I'll just leave it for the afternoon pick-up." She placed an envelope on the silver platter at the end of the table, then turned to go.
She looked so bright and cheerful, and since he was feeling sorely in need of some cheering up, Jonathan indulged his curiosity about this self-assured young woman.
"So what adventure are you off to today with your charges?"
She seemed surprised at his question, since none of the children were his. "Why, we're off to the village fair. I suppose you don't have them in America, because Scott and Cara and Kitty say they've never been to one."
"Oh, but we have circuses and exhibitions and centennial celebrations—"
"Yes, of course. And the British and the Scots have their own, too, like the highland games. A village fair is very different from all that, but lots of fun with booths, games of chance, a merry-go-round, all kinds of food—"
"Sounds grand!" Jonathan interrupted. And after only a moment's hesitation, he added wistfully, "You wouldn't be needing some help in keeping those youngsters out of mischief, would you?"
Miss McPherson darted a quick curious look at him. "Are you suggesting, sir, that you might want to accompany us—me and the children—to the fair?"
"Well, yes, actually. Why not?" Jonathan was smiling widely now. "I was thinking particularly about Evalee. She's apt to be—"
At the wry expression on his face, Miss McPherson laughed. "You're welcome, then, if you'd like to come. I know the children would be pleased. We'll be leaving in about half an hour. I've permission to take the pony cart."
Jonathan felt his spirits lift immediately, and he took the stairs two at a time to change into something more appropriate for the day's outing.
When the party from Birchfields arrived in the village, the fair was already in full swing. The children were wildly excited, and Phoebe had reason to be grateful for Jonathan's gentle but authoritative manner. They decided to explore first and made the rounds of all the booths to see everything that was offered before choosing the activities they most wanted to do. Then, while eating an ice, each child named a first choice, and the others agreed to wait their turn. The whole affair was settled amicably, on the whole, and without too much argument or debate.