by Jane Peart
“I suppose not—” Avril said hesitantly.
“Good! Then we agree! We are friends, eh, little cousin? There is really not that much difference in our ages. Eva was ten years older than I and merely seventeen years older than you! So! We have much in common, eh? Both orphans, both Duchampes!”
He leaned down suddenly and kissed Avril on both cheeks. “Eh bien! Au revoir for now. Every time you look at the bracelet, remember me and how close your mama and I were.”
Avril began backing toward the parlor door.
“Oh, one thing more.” Monsieur Duchampes held up a restraining hand. “I wouldn’t mention our little visit to Mr. Montrose. For some reason he has a grudge against me. He might not approve of our little rendezvous. Agreed, little cousin? He smiled at her, giving her a furtive wink.
Avril nodded, not knowing what else to say, and dropping a short curtsy, turned and fled from the room. Running up the stairs, she almost bumped into some of the other girls hurtling down to the study hall. Becky was among them.
“Where have you been, Avril?”
“I’ll tell you later!” promised Avril, brushing by her friend and hurrying back to her room. She felt upset. Claude Duchampes’ unexpected visit had been most disturbing. She knew instinctively that Graham would be very angry if he knew about it. That very fact made it easier to comply with Monsieur Duchampes’ request, though she disliked keeping anything from Graham.
She looked again at the bracelet. On impulse she removed it, put it back in the box, opened her bureau drawer, and shoved it beneath some of her chemises. Somehow she did not want to wear it even if it had belonged to her mother.
She banged the drawer shut and started back down to study period. She wished she could put out of her mind the entire afternoon’s episode. One thing she knew positively—she would never tell Graham about it.
Part III
Montclair
Spring and Summer 1810
Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.
Romans 15:13
chapter
9
THE CARRIAGE rolled nearer Montclair, and Avril leaned forward eagerly. With every familiar landmark her heart leaped higher. The elms along the driveway would be all leafy green by now and the fields around the house golden with daffodils.
Would Graham be on the veranda awaiting her arrival? Oh, she hoped so, though he might well be making his plantation rounds, since he was not expecting her until after midday.
But Avril had risen early, too excited to sleep any longer. She had arrived in Williamsburg by stage, accompanied by one of the Academy teachers who had relatives in town. Avril had spent the night at the Barnwells, where Graham had sent the Montrose carriage for her the night before, since it was planting time and his presence was required on the plantation. She understood all that, of course, but the delay in seeing him only intensified her desire.
At last the carriage rounded the last bend, and the stately brick and clapboard mansion came into view. It was just as Avril remembered it from the first time she saw it nearly four years ago.
When the driver drew to a stop in front of the porch steps, Avril did not get down at once. She sat there for a full minute trying to compose herself. She hoped to appear poised and ladylike to Graham, a product of all the deportment training at the Academy, proof that the year had been worthwhile. She did not want to seem a harum-scarum child, scrambling out to fling herself into his arms, though it would take all the discipline she could muster not to do just that.
So she waited, trembling with excitement, as the front door opened and his tall figure stepped out onto the shaded veranda. Drawing a deep breath, she took hold of the brocaded strap by the carriage door and, when it was opened for her, sprang lightly down.
“My dear! My dear child! How good it is to have you home!” Graham was holding her at arm’s length now and his whole face was alight with pleasure.
Avril had added at least three inches to her height, and the carrot color of her hair had darkened to a rich, deep russet, the color of autumn leaves. But the eyes were still the eyes of a child—clear, innocent, and now shining with delight.
“Oh, Graham, I’m so happy to be home! I’ve missed it so! And you!” she exclaimed and, forgetting her resolution, hugged him impetuously.
He laughed, caught her about the waist, and swung her in a wide circle. As he did so, Avril looked up onto the porch and felt her heart sink. Two other figures had emerged from the great house. One of them was Auntie May Cameron and the other—Clarice Fontayne!
“Welcome home, Avril!” sang out Auntie May in her high, sweet voice, and picking up her skirts daintily, she came to the edge of the porch and held out her arms to Avril. “How you’ve grown and how pretty you look in that bonnet. That shade of blue is just right for your coloring. Come, darling, let me have a good look at you!”
Avril concealed her disappointment with an effort. She had been anticipating her homecoming for weeks, and all the way from Williamsburg had planned what she would say to Graham, what they’d do, how they would spend their first evening together after their long separation. Perhaps they would even go riding before dusk. She was anxious to see her mare, Fancy, too. Oh, there was so much to tell and hear about, and she had so wanted Graham all to herself.
Now she knew she would have to sit for tea and make polite conversation, giving Auntie May a report on life at the Academy. Worst of all, she must grit her teeth and endure Clarice Fontayne’s posturing and preening.
After she reached the top of the steps and had been enveloped in Auntie May’s scented embrace, she turned to greet Mrs. Fontayne courteously.
“Cherie! What a young lady you’ve become, a credit to your guardian’s wisdom in sending you off to school, n’est ce pas?” Clarice’s amused glance slid over Avril’s head to Graham and lingered there fetchingly.
Her condescending tone, the kind one would use with a child, infuriated Avril and she could not refrain from giving a mild retort, “Oh, it wasn’t the school or being away from Montclair! It’s just that I’m fourteen nearly fifteen. People do grow up.”
Clarice regarded Avril, appraising her anew. “Oh, but you have learned the art of repartee, haven’t you?” she laughed and shrugged her slender shoulders.
To Avril, her laughter sounded affected and there was none in her cool blue eyes when they touched Avril briefly again. It was clear she was not really amused.
“Graham, I must go and leave you to your reunion en famille,” she said, thrusting open her yellow silk parasol, the ruffled edges casting delightful shadows on her perfectly contoured face. “If you will have my carriage brought around?”
“Of course.” Graham called for Hector to alert the Fontayne driver, who was enjoying the shade of one of the large elms.
Auntie May’s chatter covered the awkwardness Avril felt keenly between herself and Mrs. Fontayne. Then Graham was back and soon the carriage with blue painted trim rolled around the side of the house, coachman and footman in matching livery.
“So, we shall see you at the supper party this weekend?” Clarice asked. The two adults nodded. To Avril, Clarice merely said, “A party for grown-ups, cherie. I fear you would be bored.” With that she touched Avril’s cheek with the tips of her silk-gloved fingers in a gesture that appeared affectionate. But Avril had the distinct impression that the lady would much rather have pinched it.
Graham escorted Clarice to her carriage and handed her graciously into it. Then she leaned forward and whispered something that made him laugh. Avril’s cheeks flamed, imagining that she herself was the butt of some form of ridicule made to sound clever. Quickly, Avril turned her back. She hated seeing Graham and Clarice together. She linked arms with Auntie May and they went into the house together.
After her disappointing homecoming, Avril’s first few weeks back at Montclair were idyllic. She awoke every morning eager for the day to begin. S
ometimes she could scarcely believe she was really here, with a long summer of lovely days to be strung together like a daisy chain.
Adding to her enjoyment of her freedom from the restrictive atmosphere of the Academy was her secret decision not to return to school in September. Avril had formulated a plan that she was sure would guarantee her remaining at Montclair. She would make herself so indispensable to Graham that he would not be able to part with her. While this would take a great deal of effort on her part, Avril had no doubt that she could accomplish her purpose.
Their days together took on a pleasant pattern. Avril made sure she was down for breakfast neatly groomed, every hair smoothly brushed and bowed, at her place when Graham appeared. The minute she heard his footsteps on the stairs, she poured his coffee, and had it sugared and creamed to his liking, and ready for him even before he entered the dining room.
She always tried to have some fact, some bit of information to give her conversation sparkle and impress him with an intelligence that he would find both interesting and remarkable in a girl her age. Her purpose was twofold—to prove to Graham that the year at the Academy had not been wasted but had been sufficient, giving her incentive to pursue good literature, history, and geography on her own.
When Graham had finished his daily consultation with his overseer, Avril would sometimes have Fancy saddled and herself attired in riding habit, ready to accompany him on his rounds of the sprawling plantation.
At other times they would ride more leisurely, in sun-dappled woods, just as the purple dusk descended. Occasionally they would ride over to Cameron Hall to accept the frequent invitations extended by Auntie May for an evening with friends from neighboring plantations. On such occasions Avril especially loved the moonlit ride home—alone with Graham.
At home, they read books together. Graham, an avid reader, had a standing order with a New York firm to receive the latest publications. When these boxes arrived, they both delighted in opening and examining the volumes. Then they chose one of the more promising and took turns reading aloud, sometimes late into the evening. Then, when eyes and voices grew weary, they would sometimes walk through the garden before saying their good-nights.
That summer, the days were a series of cloudless blue skies. Nothing marred Avril’s happiness.
Even Avril’s hidden resentment of the lovely widow, Clarice Fontayne, had no reason to surface. From Auntie May, Avril had learned that the lady in question was visiting friends in the cool mountains and would not return until later in the season.
With that irritant safely out of the way, Avril almost forgot about her. It made her even happier to note that Graham did not seem to miss her, either, for he never mentioned her name. Besides, there were far more interesting things on the horizon: The Cameron boys returned from school in England.
Avril learned of their arrival one day when she was curled in the window seat of the library, waiting for Graham to finish going over the ledgers so they could take their afternoon ride. Acknowledging Hector’s discreet tap on the door, she admitted him and listened as he announced a visitor to see her.
Puzzled, Avril went into the hall and saw a tall, vaguely familiar figure standing at the open door. She stood uncertainly for a moment, trying to grasp his identity before proceeding to greet him.
“Marshall! Marshall Cameron!” she gasped. “When did you get back?”
Marshall grinned sheepishly. “Yes, it’s me,” he said, conscious of his new height, the gangly limbs he had not quite tamed. “We—Logan and I”—he jerked his head toward the driveway where Logan was rather impatiently pacing his horse back and forth—” rode over. Mama wants to know if you and Graham can come for supper—a sort of homecoming celebration.”
Avril looked past him at the young man still seated astride his horse. Logan seemed taller, too, broader through the shoulders, his thick, golden hair glinting in the sunlight, his boyish face now taking on the handsome planes of manhood.
Her temporary admiration vanished at the fact that he had not dismounted and come to greet her. How arrogant! Still felt he was too old to be bothered with a mere girl, probably. Avril lifted her chin defensively. So much for him, she thought. I’ll ignore him.
She smiled sweetly at Marshall. “I’ll ask Graham. I’m sure he would like to, since I don’t know of any other plans.”
“You can send word over later. Or for that matter, just come!” Marshall suggested, shrugging. “Well, then, we’ll see you. Maybe we could go riding tomorrow.” He hesitated a second before bounding back down the porch steps and leaping onto his horse.
As Avril watched the two gallop down the driveway, take the fence at the edge of the meadow, and disappear into the woods, she smiled, secretly amused that they were conscious of her eyes upon them. They were still just little boys, she thought. The brothers had grown taller and older perhaps, but neither had ever been willing to concede defeat to the other and were still enjoying a friendly rivalry. And though Logan had not paid her the courtesy due a young lady, she would show him a thing or two, Avril decided then and there.
Assuming Graham would accept any invitation forthcoming from his close friends at Cameron Hall, Avril raced upstairs, pausing only long enough to ask Polly, the maid who was just coming down from doing the bedrooms, to bring her up some rainwater so she could wash her hair.
With her chief motive that of showing Logan Cameron that she was someone to be reckoned with, not ignored, Avril spent the rest of the afternoon preparing herself for the evening at Cameron Hall.
The evening was successful beyond Avril’s fondest hopes. Entering the Camerons’ drawing room on Graham’s arm later, she was gratified to see the startled look in Logan’s eyes. She had selected her gown with care—a lemon yellow mull—a fine, delicate muslin—trimmed at the neck with bands of lace threaded with yellow satin ribbons, and embroidered all over with tiny butterflies. With Dilly’s help, she had tamed her masses of dark red curls into two bunches on either side of her head, banding them with bows of yellow ribbons that matched those on her dress.
Marshall had lost his initial self-consciousness at being back with his former playmate and was soon chattering away with Avril, pointing out the differences between Americans and his English schoolmates. All the while Logan looked on, keeping his distance.
When at last it was time to leave, he ambled over to Avril and said in an offhanded manner, “When Marshall and I go riding tomorrow, would you care to join us?”
Avril felt a glow of triumph. She had won, but she did not think it wise to flaunt her victory by refusing. Instead, she smiled a slow, sweet smile and replied demurely, “Yes, thank you. That would be very nice.”
Later, when she reflected on that night, Avril remembered she had been so happy thinking it would be like old times.
And, indeed, it seemed so for a time. The three of them rode out together almost every day. Though there were no longer the rowdy games of pirates and Indians, chasing each other through the woods or wading in the river, a new camaraderie developed between them and Avril was satisfied that now at last Logan accepted her as an equal. He still tried to best both Marshall and her by galloping faster, jumping higher fences or hedges, and generally proving his superior horsemanship. But his appreciation of her was evident.
Avril would never forget when it all changed.
It was nothing any of them did, but later she would think back and realize that if she had not heard of it through Logan and Marshall, things would have been different, her lovely summer left unspoiled.
chapter
10
AVRIL GAVE a sigh of pure happiness as she leaned on the sill of her bedroom window overlooking her favorite view of Montclair. Beyond the velvety green expanse of lawn and magnificent elms, the river shimmered in the early morning sunlight.
The dewy scent of newly mown grass was better than the most expensive perfume, she thought, closing her eyes and sniffing appreciatively. She whispered a little prayer of thanksgiving for lif
e, for this glorious day, for Montclair—the place she had come to love most in the world.
Turning from the sight she treasured, she dressed hurriedly in a dark blue riding skirt, for she was meeting the Cameron boys at their usual place, the path in the woods where the borders of the Montrose and Cameron lands met. She pulled on her boots, bundled her hair up in a twist and secured it with the nearest ribbon, then rushed down the back stairway into the kitchen. There she cajoled Cookie to part with some fresh gingerbread she had baked for dinner dessert, along with some ripe peaches, to carry in her saddle bags for the picnic they had planned.
Humming happily, Avril ran out to the stables under a clear sky, never dreaming that soon the day would seem heavy and dark.
Mounting Fancy, Avril lifted her head, feeling the soft breeze on her face as the mare moved into a gentle canter. She never felt freer than when she was riding Fancy, and in a surge of exquisite joy, Avril gave her free rein to take the trail at a gallop, losing her hair ribbon somewhere along the way. Her red-gold hair caught fiery lights from the sun that filtered through the trees.
The day ahead held the promise of fun, comradeship, and also a tenuous new undercurrent of excitement that surpassed anything she had ever experienced with the girls at the Academy on some school outing. Avril was not sure exactly what caused it, but she was keenly aware of Logan’s altered manner toward her. Sometimes he held her horse’s head for her when she dismounted or gave her a hand up when she mounted. He did not join in the competitive kind of teasing debates she and Marshall enjoyed, but kept himself a little aloof from them, listening, at times laughing at them.
Whatever it was that was different in his attitude toward her, Avril rather liked it even if she did not understand it.