“Not for good. Just for a short time. He came to see his godson. His friend Cecil Branson had a baby. They named him Royce which is Mr. Berkeley’s middle name.”
“Royce. That’s a nice name.”
“It is a nice name, I agree. All three of his names are nice. Addison Royce Berkeley. It sounds like a hero in one of your romance novels.”
She nodded stupidly. “Umm-humm.”
Priscilla laughed and stated with authority, “My word, Mercy. Just admit you are in love with him.”
“I am not!” It wasn’t true. She wasn’t in love with him. She was in love with Ian, although lately she couldn’t remember why she was in love with Ian. She hardly saw him anymore, and when she did he was often grouchy.
She glanced down to see Priscilla looking up at her with a knowing smile. “Stop looking at me like that Priscilla. I’m not in love with Addison Berkeley.”
Priscilla let out a playful, mocking laugh. “You are not a good liar.”
Mercy wanted to say, I’m a much better liar than you think. I’ve been lying about Ian for two and half years and you have never caught me.
The thought made her sick. She and Priscilla told each other everything from the time they were about five years old.
Priscilla told Mercy every single detail about her courtship with Luke, while Mercy always had to bite her tongue, keeping important parts about her quite.
There were many times she’d wanted to tell her best friend the truth, but Priscilla was honest to a fault. Asking her to hold onto such a lie would be unfair.
Mercy let out a sigh. She just couldn’t carry on this deception any longer. How many times had she said that? The words had no meaning anymore.
Mercy walked across the room and sank into a chair. “Anyway, Mr. Berkeley is probably married to that French Countess by now. You saw them together over a year ago.”
“I doubt it. I don’t think he is in love with her. There must have been four hundred people at that huge Paris ball, so I would say there were about two hundred men, and at least half of them were falling all over her. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I mean, she’s rich, beautiful, witty, and so I guess I’m not surprised. But I could tell Mr. Berkeley wasn’t jealous in the least. She kept hanging all over him, but then quite a few other women did too. French women are much more daring than little colonial girls raised on puritan values. Anyway, Mr. Berkeley never danced. Not once.”
“What makes you think he wasn’t jealous of the countess?”
“I could just tell. He looks at her like he thinks she’s amusing, but he never once looked at her like he used to look at you.”
“Well, that was a long time ago, anyway.”
“Not really. The sparks were there between the two of you before. Now when you see each other, perhaps those sparks will kindle into a flame.”
“No. I’m sure there won’t be any flame.” She hoped there would not be any flame. She would do her best to make sure there wasn’t.
Flames burnt people. She watched the flame as it danced and swirled in the fireplace and let out a nervous sigh.
That night she lay in bed staring at her ceiling and wondering how she would get any sleep knowing she would see Addison Berkeley in the morning.
What would she say? How would she act? How would he act? Would he be happy to see her? She twisted over to her side and punched her pillow trying to get comfortable. But that didn’t help.
Oh, how she wished Priscilla hadn’t told her he was going to be at the wedding in the morning. This whole night would be sheer torture.
****
After a restless night, Addison groggily stumbled to the washbowl and splashed water on his face. Part of him didn’t want to go to this wedding today. People would be there who still thought he was a rapist. But what did he care about that?
His main misgivings came from seeing Mercy again. He should probably just stay home. But he wanted to throw it in her face that he was fine although he wasn’t really.
Soon he walked down Salem Street toward the Old North Church with Cecil and Jane. As he got close, he practically ran into Mr. Creed who looked at him with a welcoming smile, but Addison almost didn’t recognize him. He looked so old. And tired.
Addison shook his hand and said genuinely, “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Creed.”
“It’s nice to see you again Mr. Berkeley. Truly. You are looking good.”
Addison wanted to return the compliment, but he couldn’t. “Thank you. Do you realize that twenty-one years ago we stood right in this same spot having a conversation, and now here we are again?”
“Yes, and now our situations have reversed.”
“What do you mean?” Addison asked.
“Now you are the wealthy one, and I’m…I’m not.” He looked around with apprehension. “I suppose I should not say that. I don’t know why it slipped out?”
Addison kept his voice low. “I knew you were having a little financial slump, but I assumed you were past it now.”
“No. I just cannot understand why.”
“Mr. Creed, please all me to help you figure out what is going wrong. Can I come to your offiice on Monday morning and we can go over your books and do some investigating. If we can find the problem, maybe we can find a solution.”
“You would do that for me?” Mr. Creed asked.
“Of course I would. I would be honored. You gave me money for a coat and it kept me warm for five years. How could I not spend a few days helping you and return the kindness?”
“I would appreciate your help, Mr. Berkeley. I hate to admit this to you, but I’m desperate. If something doesn’t change soon, I’ll be forced to sell my house. I’ve already had to sell almost everything in my house, but my wife and daughter never complain. It breaks my heart.”
His weak voice faded away and Addison put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you told me this. We will get to the bottom of it, I promise. I’ll not leave Boston until we have your business humming along like it should be. You won’t lose your home. I promise!”
“Thank you, Mr. Berkeley.”
“You are welcome, but if we are going to be spending time together as friends, please call me Addison.”
“Fine. Addison it will be, and you must call me James.”
“Well James, we had best get inside for the wedding. If I don’t talk to you again, I’ll see you on Monday morning at nine?
“Perfect. See you then. Good day, Addison.”
Addison squinted up at the amazing bell tower and could not believe he was about to walk into this building he’d always admired from the outside. This was the church of the beautiful people and he was now a part of it.
Somehow it felt odd. He didn’t see Cecil and Jane, so he assumed they must have already gone inside. He strode into the church and looked around with an assessing eye. It certainly was not as glorious as the cathedrals in France, but it was a pretty building in its own simple way.
Behind a partition he heard a familiar giggle and without even thinking he went to investigate. He walked around the corner and there Mercy stood with another girl as the two of them fussed over Priscilla in her wedding gown.
He shouldn’t have come back here. What an idiot. Slowly he backed out hoping they would not see him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mercy. She wasn’t fat. She wasn’t pregnant. She had most definitely not lost her looks. In fact, she was more beautiful than ever. How was that possible?
He almost made it out of the room without them seeing him, but at the last second Mercy glanced over and saw him. Her mouth and eyes opened wide at the same time, and her gloved hand floated up and rested over her heart.
Finally, she gathered her wits and walked toward him with a warm and radiant smile that touched his cold and lonely heart like a ray of sunshine. “Addison Berkeley. My word. Somehow I thought I would never see you again. Where have you been?”
“Mostly France.”
“And is everythin
g going well?”
“My business?”
“Well that is a good place to start. Is your business going well?”
“Yes. Extremely well.”
“I’m terribly glad to hear that.”
His eyes slid down her body and back up again aggressively, boldly, in a way that probably offended her, but he couldn’t stop himself. He gave her a crooked smile. “You look good.”
With a self-conscious frown, she glanced down at the low cut, elaborately made gown of fine green satin and lace. “Priscilla had the gown made for me since I’m her bridesmaid. She said it’s the latest French fashion.” Scrunching her little nose in a comical way, she looked up at him. “Is it?”
He nodded as he fought back a laugh. “Yes, it is, but somehow I never thought to see a dress like that on you.”
She glanced down at the dress again. “It is rather daring.”
“Yes. Rather.”
Her eyes lifted to his in worry. “You don’t like it.”
“I do like it.” He liked it too much. Much too much. Even right now it took great effort to keep his eyes on her face. Who would’ve known little Mercy Creed was so voluptuous?
She interrupted his thoughts by saying, “Priscilla told me that when she was in Paris last year she saw you at a ball with the Countess D’Aubigne. It’s such a small world.”
Mercy was trying to find out if he’d married the countess. Well, he wouldn’t tell her. Let her wonder. As lightheartedly as he could manage, he replied. “Yes, it was lovely to see your friend and her family. I always enjoy speaking English once in awhile.”
She shifted a little and then asked, “Are you married?” Just like Mercy to get to the point.
With a disbelieving laugh, he replied, “No. Are you?”
“No.”
“You are twenty one now. Why aren’t you married?”
“Well, you are thirty now. Why aren’t you married? You are a lot older than me,” she teased with a laugh.
A beautiful laugh. A laugh that he felt in the depths of his soul. He glanced over and saw Priscilla and the other girl staring at him, but they both quickly looked away.
He took a few steps toward them. “Miss Brown, you make a beautiful bride, although I’m terribly embarrassed about seeing you before the wedding. Please forgive me.”
Closing the distance between them, she grabbed his arm with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. Just don’t go give Luke the details of my wedding dress.”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid you cannot stop me. I’m planning to find Luke this minute and tell him every detail. You know how we men are.”
She laughed and then surprised him by saying, “I’m truly glad you are here for my wedding. It’s wonderful to see you again.”
“I’m glad it worked out I was here in Boston for your happy day.”
“How long will you stay in Boston?”
“I don’t suppose I’ll stay long.” Addison replied.
She glanced over at Mercy and then back to him. “So how is Countess D’Aubigne?”
“Well, she was fine when I last saw her.”
“She certainly is one of a kind, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she most certainly is.”
“She still lives in Paris?”
“Paris is her primary residence. She has several homes.”
“She didn’t want to come to America with you?”
He wasn’t sure why she would ask him such personal questions, but she kept glancing at Mercy out of the corner of her eye. He could tell Mercy was trying her best to pretend she wasn’t listening.
Finally, he said, “I don’t think she wanted to come to America. I didn’t even invite her. She didn’t care for America much the last time she came here.”
“She did tell me that when I saw her last year. She said the only good part about coming to America was meeting you.”
He nodded with a slight laugh. “That sounds like something she would say. Only she could get away with insulting your entire country and still come off making you think she is charming.”
Feeling a little uncomfortable, he glanced around the room and his eyes landed on the girl standing next to Mercy. Addison wondered if this was Daisy.
Mercy sensed his interest and quickly said, “Mr. Berkeley, this is Daisy.”
The pretty, young girl shocked him by grabbing both his hands and with tears brimming in her eyes declared, “I’ve always wanted to meet you. You gave me my life. You will never, ever know what you have done for me. Thank you does not seem a big enough word. I pray for you constantly. Every day I ask that God will bless you.”
Squeezing her hands, he gave her a sincere smile. “Daisy, it’s my absolute pleasure to meet you. Miss Creed has said wonderful things about you, and I can tell she didn’t exaggerate. I’m glad you are happy.”
“I am happy. I love Mercy. I love the Creed Family. And I’m free.”
“Yes, you are.” He smiled at Mercy and then at Priscilla. “Well, I should go find a seat so we can get this wedding started. If I stand back here all day chatting with the bride, Luke and the rest of the guests might be cross with me. I’ll see you after the wedding.”
With one quick look at Mercy, he strode from the room. He felt he’d done quite well. Everything within him wanted to grab her into his arms and tell her he missed her desperately and thought about her every day for the last two years. He wanted to rub his finger over her skin and watch her tremble. He wanted to lean in close and say something that would make her blush. He wanted to kiss her and feel her lips against his. But he wouldn’t do any of those things. If she wanted him, she’d have to make the first move.
****
As soon as Addison left the room, Priscilla turned to Mercy. “Have you ever in your life seen a more magnificent man? I love my Luke, don’t get me wrong, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything, but Mercy, what is wrong with you? I still think you might have a chance with him.”
“Don’t be silly. He is involved with the countess still. He didn’t deny it.”
“I’m telling you that he likes her, but he doesn’t respect her, and Mr. Berkeley would never marry a woman he didn’t respect.”
“He’s such a complicated man. Why do you think you have him all figured out?”
“He’s not that complicated. Listen to me, Mercy. He isn’t staying here in Boston long. Make the most of your time with him. If he leaves, you will probably never see him again, and if you let him slip through your fingers, you will regret it the rest of your life.”
“What makes you think I have a chance with him? If he could have a rich, sophisticated, gorgeous French countess, why on earth would he chose a simple little Colonial girl, or American girl, or whatever we are called now?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Mercy. Just promise me you will flirt with Mr. Berkeley a little bit and see where it goes.”
“I don’t know how to flirt.”
“Don’t be silly. Every female knows how to flirt. We are born with the ability.” Mercy didn’t agree with that statement, but she merely nodded, because she didn’t want to argue with Priscilla on her wedding day.
A matronly woman bustled into the room and asked in a clipped tone, “Are you ready?”
With laughter in her voice Priscilla replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Good. Your father is waiting outside the room to walk you down the aisle.”
Mercy reached over and squeezed her best friend’s gloved hand and said with a big smile, “This is the last time you will be Priscilla Brown. From now on you’ll be Priscilla Ainsworth. Isn’t that something?”
Priscilla giggled. “Yes, it certainly is.”
During the ceremony Mercy stood next to Priscilla, but she glanced out at the crowd and immediately her eyes landed upon Mr. Berkeley who stared at her with an intensity that made her blood feel hot. Surprisingly, he didn’t look away in embarrassment, but held her gaze as if he searched for something.
Oh, how she wi
shed she knew what thoughts went on inside that handsome head of his. With sheer force, she pulled her gaze away from his and turned to listen to the Pastor.
The Pastor said the word “holy” and it seemed to pierce through her soul like a knife. Two people coming together in marriage should be open, honest and honorable—not hidden, secret and surrounded by deceit like her relationship with Ian.
Understanding Mercy Page 21