by Jane Peart
With gentle fingers he lifted her chin, wiped her wet cheeks. “Come, it’s too pretty a day for tears. Let’s ride back to the house and try not to dwell on sad things.”
That incident strengthened Avril’s resolve. How lonely Graham must be—how much lonelier if she left for another long school term. If she were here, she knew she could make him forget all his past sorrows. She dreaded the thought of returning to the Academy and leaving Graham here in the big, empty house through all the bleak, winter days to come.
She must make him see that.
For her birthday Graham had invited the Camerons to dinner for a small celebration. Avril thought this the perfect opportunity to prove to Graham that she was now grown up enough to host a dinner party. She would dazzle him with her brilliant conversation, bringing up topics to show how much she had learned. She would be witty and charming and Graham would soon see she had no need of further education or “finishing.”
That evening the high-ceilinged dining room was mellow with candlelight. Avril had gathered a bouquet of beautiful flowers and arranged an artistic centerpiece. She had received permission to use the best china and helped polish the ornate silverware. The weather had cooperated with all her plans, presenting a lovely sunset and soft breezes to cool the late summer air.
There were presents for Avril to open afterward. Her delight would have been complete as she admired the small ivory fan Auntie May had given her, the wooden pencil case from Marshall, chamois riding gloves from Logan, and a gold locket containing her parents’ miniatures from Graham—except for an exchange she happened to overhear between her guardian and Auntie May.
“They have such an excellent music program that I think Avril should have harp lessons this term,” she heard Graham say.
“Oh, that would be quite appropriate. Such a ladylike instrument. And then there is the clavichord. My own dear mother played beautifully …”
But Avril did not hear the rest of the conversation. All that registered was the firm note in Graham’s voice, ruling out any idea that Avril would not be returning to the Academy.
She knew this was not the opportune moment to protest. She would wait until they were alone before bringing to bear all her finely honed powers of persuasion.
But as it turned out, her pleas were to no avail.
The scene that took place the next morning was the occasion of the sharpest clash of wills she and Graham had ever had. When she had first broached the subject, there had been a point where she had sensed possible victory. For a few seconds his eyes, regarding her, were clouded with doubt. She heightened her arguments, but his moment of indecision was short-lived. When he spoke his tone brooked no argument.
“Avril, you are already enrolled for another semester. You must go back.”
“But why must I go back?” she demanded.
“Because, my dear, your education is not complete. You need training in a variety of subjects and social graces needed by a lady of quality—things that you cannot possibly acquire here. Montclair is isolated, as you know. Even the Camerons will soon be leaving again. Winters here are lonely—”
“But you are here, Graham! You could teach me! You are ten times smarter than any of the women teachers at the Academy.”
Graham could not help laughing at this lovely, irrepressible, unreasonable child. He shook his head, holding up his hand as if to ward off any more outrageous suggestions.
“But I don’t see why not!” persisted Avril. “And if the truth were known, I don’t think you do either! We could be so cozy and happy here. It wouldn’t seem at all lonely. And we could read. Just look at all these books, many more than the Academy has in its library. Give me one good reason why I must go back to school.”
Of course, in the end, she knew it was useless. Graham had spoken and there was no recourse. Avril struggled to be calm and cheerful as the day of leavetaking approached. But inside there was a great aching void. Outwardly resigned, inwardly despairing, she dreaded her departure.
Avril managed a smile. She did not want to make Graham uncomfortable with her own unhappiness. He was doing what he believed was his duty. For now, her way was clear. Compromise, perhaps, but not capitulation.
But for all her brave resolutions, the morning Avril left she looked back through the carriage window as she drove off and felt a wrenching pang. It was always like that whenever she went away. It was as if she and Montclair were one—as if she and Graham—but she shook her head, refusing the thought.
It would have been even harder if Avril had known the long separation that lay ahead. But when they said good-bye, neither she nor Graham knew it would be years before her return to Montclair.
chapter
12
OF COURSE, Avril could not have known the series of unforeseen events that would prevent her seeing Graham or Montclair for such a long time. If she had, her return to the Academy and her reunion with Becky might not have been so joyous. As it was, except for rare moments of homesickness, Avril quickly settled back into the familiar routine of school and study.
This year, since their class category had changed, the two girls were moved from the dormitory to share a room on the third floor of the school building.
Over the next months the little room with its slanted ceiling and dormer windows was the scene of whispered confidences, smothered giggles, as well as midnight feasts with food foraged from the kitchen and spread out on the small table between the two narrow spool beds.
The friendship thrived, the two girls becoming more like sisters than roommates.
Avril wrote to Graham regularly, the twice-monthly letter to parents or guardians required by the Academy. But since all correspondence was subject to the inspection of the teachers, it was into her journal that Avril poured her deepest thoughts and feelings.
It was here she wrote freely of her growing love for Graham, a love that was more than she could fully comprehend and more intense than anyone guessed.
Graham’s picture resided on her bedside table, beside the small double silver frame containing those of her parents. One day as she sat gazing at it, her pen poised above her open journal, Becky came into the room.
Casting an observant look at her dreamy-eyed roommate, Becky, who often displayed a wisdom beyond her years, remarked, “He is very handsome, Avril, but if he’s your guardian, he must be frightfully old.”
Avril rose instantly to his defense. “Not really,” she replied crossly. What was fifteen years, or even twenty? she thought. Love spanned all bridges of age, time, separation. Love knew no barriers. At least, that’s what Avril had come to believe. The longer she was separated from him, the more she knew her love for Graham was something special, apart.
“Wasn’t he your father’s age?” Becky persisted, curious.
“No, younger. He and my father were friends. Both attended the same preparatory school, lived in the same house for students, and became very close, but Graham was several years younger.”
With this, Avril promptly shut her journal, closing out any further discussion as well. There were some things she wasn’t willing to talk about—not even with her best friend.
Ever since she had found the documents in his desk drawer, Avril had become newly aware of her relationship with Graham. To strengthen her growing conviction that theirs was a unique bond was her awakening interest in spiritual things. Since the Christmas before, when she had participated in the pageant and attended the midnight service on Christmas Eve, Avril had felt a need to learn more about the “indwelling Christ” the minister had spoken about so movingly.
Avril had bought her own small Bible and had begun to read it. She did not understand much of it but loved the poetic beauty of the Psalms. She memorized some of her favorite ones and found comfort and a sense of peace when repeating them to herself.
During those times when the longing to see Graham or to be at Montclair overtook her, she would turn to them, often finding a new perspective. She was particularly drawn to
those that expressed her recurrent feelings of loneliness, of being without any real family, of uncertainty about her future. As she grew older, she thought a great deal about her parents.
What had they been like? How strange it was not to have any clear memories of them as people, merely shadows. She found herself envying Becky, who had so many caring, loving relatives and was always receiving letters and packages from home.
At times like that, when Avril felt sad and lonely, she would repeat over and over the verses she had learned. “Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart,” and “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.”
She did not really know how the Lord would do this. He was still vague in her mind, mixed up somehow with Graham and the teachers at the Academy who did see to all her worldly needs. It was this other nagging void, this little spot like a stone bruise in her heart that she somehow trusted the Lord to heal.
When winter road conditions again prevented Avril from spending the holidays with Graham at Montclair, she was invited to Becky’s home for Christmas. Her initial disappointment was soon replaced by excitement at the prospect of seeing Woodlawn in nearby Pleasant Valley and meeting the large and lively family that Becky had spoken of so fondly.
Much to the girls’ surprise and delight, Becky’s father and older brother, Jed, arrived at the Academy in an open sleigh to collect them when classes were dismissed for the holidays.
Mr. Buchanan, a jolly man with a hearty laugh and a deceptive brusqueness, tucked them in with fur-lined blankets before he took up the bell-trimmed harness on the four horses and headed homeward. They skimmed effortlessly over the icy, rutted roads with the sound of sleigh bells ringing in their ears, while the cold wind reddened their noses and stung their eyes.
Arriving at Woodlawn, a sprawling fieldstone and frame farmhouse, Avril was hugged, kissed, and welcomed as warmly as Becky by her mother, grandmother, and two aunts who lived there. The house was fragrant with the smell of baking pies, the spicy scent of cedar boughs decorating the mantelpieces and windows, and the odor of bayberry candles lighting all the rooms.
Avril reveled in her first real taste of family life. From the day they arrived it seemed she was surrounded by loud, happy voices, laughter, and activity. The Buchanans had almost as many relatives as friends who thronged to this merry household about which life in the community seemed to revolve.
Strangely enough, there was no separation of age groups as Avril had known in Williamsburg and at Cameron Hall, but adults and young folk alike joined in all the noisy activities. Even very young children participated in the simple games, the square dancing, taffy pulls, and blindman’s bluff.
There was outdoor fun to be enjoyed, too. Tobogganing on the snow-covered hill behind the house, snowball battles, and building snowmen added to the memories Avril was storing away.
She entered into all the gaiety with enthusiasm. It was impossible to be shy around the Buchanans. Becky’s brothers were all tall, ruggedly handsome young men of high spirits, good humor, and a complete lack of self-consciousness, treating Avril with the same casual affection they bestowed on Becky. Only Jamison, the brother closest in age to Becky, who was promptly smitten with Avril, could barely find his tongue around her.
But one night, during a lively square dance, he surprised Avril by dancing her out of the parlor and into the hallway where a “kissing ball,” an orange studded with cloves and beribboned with green and red streamers, swung from the chandelier. Positioning Avril directly under it, he kissed her soundly.
“I love you, Avril,” he declared. “And I should very much like to marry you someday!”
Avril had no time to react, for just as quickly he danced her back into the front room that had been cleared of furniture, and she was soon skipping with another partner.
But she thought often of his romantic declaration and hugged to her the delicious idea that someone considered her a prospective bride! Perhaps Graham, too, would notice how mature she was becoming when next she went home to Montclair.
On the day Becky and Avril were to return to the Academy, Jamison thrust a box of sweetmeats into her hands. But, with the family encircling the girls, saying their good-byes, there had not been another kiss.
Avril experienced a decided sagging of spirits upon her return to school after the days of frivolity with the Buchanans. The stiff regulations and unrelenting regimen of the Academy seemed ever so much more oppressive.
A chill January merged into a sleety and windblown February, and just as the weather began to break, an epidemic of smallpox swept through the Academy. The younger girls became ill first, and the severity of the illness demanded more the nursing skills of the staff than the teaching ones. Classes for the older students were temporarily suspended, and those who had not come down with the “pox” had very little supervision.
For weeks the school was in quarantine. At first, neither Becky nor Avril contracted the disease. While the effervescent Becky found time dragging on her hands, Avril discovered an interest in painting with watercolors and whiled away many happy hours recreating scenes of Montclair—the gardens, the river, the woods.
Just when the seige seemed to be waning, both Avril and Becky felt the first feverish symptoms. A new wave of the illness hit the older girls with fierce tenacity, leaving them pale and shaky, though thankfully unscarred when they emerged from their beds several weeks later.
However, because of the extended quarantine and lost school days, the summer vacation period was canceled, and the Academy notified the families of the students that classes would continue during the summer months.
If it had not been for her close friendship with Becky and the fact that Woodlawn, less than a day’s journey away, offered a welcome reprieve from classwork and drudgery, Avril did not know how she could have endured the long separation from Graham and Montclair.
At Woodlawn, where she was always received warmly, Avril was made to feel entirely at home. She quickly became a part of the group of young people whose plans for picnics, parties, and square dances went on all summer. Jamison, or Jamie as he was called by his family, was her constant and devoted escort, and although Avril did not take his promise seriously, she found his attention both flattering and fun.
For the second year in a row, ice-covered roads prevented a holiday trip to Montclair, and Avril again spent Christmas with the Buchanans. By the next, war was raging with the British and it was considered too dangerous for her to travel north to Virginia.
Feeling alienated and estranged from Graham and Montclair, Avril might have slipped into melancholia had it not been for an unexpected event at the Academy that third year.
It was, in fact, the announcement one morning at devotions that a noted evangelist was coming to New Hope Church and that any of the students wishing to attend his series of sermons might be excused from afternoon classes.
Three days later Avril made this entry in her journal:
So much has happened since I last wrote. Something strange, wonderful, and mysterious. I have confided in no one—not even Becky, so I alone know. For while I am unchanged in appearance, I know that on the inside I shall never be the same!
For three days we have had opportunity to hear a series of special talks by a man named Henry Lowe. His calling is to travel about “bringing the good news,” much like Jesus’ early disciples.
He told us that each of us is where we are in life because God has put us there. He has a plan and purpose for our lives, and every person who enters our lives does so, not by happenstance, but by divine appointment!
For the first time I think I understand that even losing my parents was for a reason, and that Graham’s coming into my life was in His plan, too. While I don’t understand it all, I am certain it is God’s doing. Now it is up to me to discover my part in His plan.
The last day of the talks, Mr. Lowe asked that whoever wanted to surrender their hearts and lives to the Lord should come up to the al
tar rail and he would pray for them. At first I was afraid to go. But feeling a sense of urgency, I obeyed the small voice within. Now I’m so glad I did.
When Mr. Lowe placed his hands on my head and prayed that the Lord would show me His “plan and purpose,” I was overcome with happiness.
I will never find the words to describe all that has happened. I only know that now I am a child of God, and I don’t feel like. in orphan any more.
chapter
13
Avril was going home! The thought of spending Christmas at Montclair after such a long time brought a sparkle to her eyes, a glow to her cheeks, and the motivation to work very hard at her studies so that she could take home a splendid report.
Her efforts did not go unrewarded. As she got into the Montrose carriage Graham had sent for her, Avril carried with her a certificate from the headmistress that would be sure to make him proud.
Be it known that Miss Avril Dumont has completed this year well and this is a testimony of her general good conduct, following the rules of the school, pursuing her studies with all assiduity, gaining the goodwill and esteem of all the Tutoresses under whom she has been placed. She has shown a good understanding of History, Writing, Cyphering, Grammar, Geography, as well as a talent for Drawing and Painting. All of her instructors have been pleased with her progress and anticipate she will graduate this institution this next year with honor.
Signed at New Hope, North Carolina, Dec. 10, 1815
Avril could not sit still in the carriage, but moved from side to side, looking out the windows, still not quite believing she was really on her way home.
The fields and woods on either side of the road were silver-misted with a light snow that had fallen earlier, the dark green of the spruce trees dusted with glistening white powder.
She was thankful that the winter had been mild thus far, and if it should snow up a blizzard now, why it might even mean being snowbound at Montclair! Avril thought with a little surge of hope.