Fortune's Bride

by Jane Peart

  As they rounded the last bend of the driveway she saw the house clearly through the bare trees, and a lump rose in her throat. At last—at long last—home!

  Inside, fires were burning in both the drawing room and library. As she entered she could smell lemon wax and the scent of applewood logs. She looked around at the familiar objects—the polished table in the hall with the blue and white Meissen bowl and matching candlesticks beneath the round, gold mirror topped with the crested eagle. She spun around in the middle of the floor, gazing at the paneled walls, the framed portraits marching along the staircase. Hector, who had opened the door for her, stood beaming.

  “Shore is nice to hab yo’ home, Miss Avril,” he said.

  “But where is Graham? Where is Mr. Montrose? I thought he would be here when I came?” she asked, a little pucker marring her smooth forehead.

  “He had to go down to de storehouse at de las’ minute jes’ ‘fo de carriage come up de drive. But he should be in sho’tly. I knowed he heered de horses.”

  “I’ll wait for him in the library, Hector.” She went through the double doors into her favorite room in the house. Her favorite, because it was filled with memories of so many happy hours spent here with Graham.

  She moved over toward the fireplace, holding out her hands to the warmth of the crackling fire. Only a minute later she heard the sound of voices in the hallway and footsteps coming along the polished floor.

  Slowly she turned to face the door just as Graham came through at a full stride. At the sight of him a wild kind of joy seized her.

  Graham halted on the threshold. He drew in his breath sharply, and in spite of himself, his pulse thundered at the sight of the tall, willowy figure.

  The firelight behind her shed a bronze sheen on her glorious auburn hair falling about her shoulders. At a glance he took in every detail of her appearance. She was wearing a traveling dress of gray kerseymere, a soft, finely woven wool, trimmed with russet velvet epaulets and cuffs. Its high-standing collar framed her slender neck, and the cut of the garment revealed the new feminine curves of her maturing body. Her bonnet, cape, and muff had been tossed on a nearby chair.

  The last time he had seen Avril she had been a child. Here in her place was a graceful young woman.

  As he stood there, at a loss for words, a mischievous glint brightened her eyes. A playful smile fetched a dimple winking at the side of her full, red mouth as if she were trying not to laugh.

  It brought him around quickly. She had changed, yes, but there was still something of that impulsive, appealing child about her.

  “Avril, my dear,” he said, finding his voice. “Welcome home!”

  Avril ran across the room ready to throw her arms around him, have him lift: her and swing her around before setting her back on her feet as he had always done.

  But this time she noticed a difference. Even as she hugged him she could feel him stiffen. Startled, she looked up at him, puzzled and hurt as he held her carefully from him.

  “How was the journey, not too fatiguing, I hope?” Graham asked briskly. “And how was Aunt Laura when you stopped to see her in Williamsburg?”

  He pushed her gently away, his expression composed enough. But there was something in his eyes Avril had never seen there before. Something indefinable that bewildered her. Was it her imagination? Or, in her long absence, had there been some subtle change in their relationship?

  Perhaps he saw she had grown up, and that made him feel awkward. A perverse sense of pleasure in that thought gave Avril an unnatural boldness.

  Stepping up to him, she took both his hands in hers, lifted her face, and asked pertly, “Have you missed me?”

  “Of course,” he replied with mock sternness. “The house has been quiet—and peaceful and orderly, I might add!”

  “Well, I’m here to make it noisy again and disturb all your fine peace. So how do you like that?” She dropped his hands and pirouetted in front of him, setting her dark red curls bouncing and her skirt swirling to reveal her French-heeled boots.

  Graham stepped behind his desk, unconsciously distancing himself from this enchanting creature. The skinny little girl he remembered had changed from a moth to a butterfly.

  “Once the news is out that you’ve come home, we shall have the place full of young people in no time at all, I suspect. That is, if the young Camerons have anything to say about it. Both of them, Marshall and Logan, have ridden over at least twice already this week to see when you would be arriving. And they have a house full of guests themselves, so be prepared—” He gave a slight laugh. “I’ve given you fair warning.”

  His voice held a teasing note and yet he was conscious of a curious blend of emotions as he looked at Avril. With this girl he felt alive again, energized by her gaiety, her exuberance, her vitality. The sight of her gave him enormous joy. That was immediately followed by a feeling of regret that was entirely selfish. Graham knew he would have to share her with any young man who came within a mile of her.

  Avril was looking at him now, her head tilted to one side in a questioning manner, as if awaiting his approval. He was at once aware of the ambivalence of his feelings toward her and felt his conflict anew.

  There was something very different about her; more than the poise, the new attractiveness. It was a quality he could not quite define although he was very much aware of it. But with her new maturity she had not, thank God, lost that endearing, unaffected sweetness.

  With her new womanly intuition Avril perceived the meaning of Graham’s distress. Her transition from child to young woman had come as a shock to him. She cautioned herself to move slowly, not to upset the delicate balance of their relationship. She was sure that Graham still thought of her only as his ward, while she had come to believe they had a joint destiny, part of God’s plan for both their lives. It was clear to her. But Graham had yet to be convinced.

  So she seated herself on the sofa in a ladylike fashion and said demurely, “Thank you, Graham, for giving me permission to have Becky come for part of the holidays. Her family was so kind to me when I couldn’t get to Montclair for the school holidays that I feel not only an obligation, but also a keen desire to show my appreciation.”

  “But, of course, your friends are more than welcome, Avril. Montclair is as much your home as mine.”

  Avril drew in her breath, feeling her pulses flutter. Oh, I hope so, Graham. I do hope so, she thought with yearning. But her voice was quite level as she continued. “I think you will like Rebecca. She is such good company. And isn’t it fortunate that her older brother is visiting friends in Williamsburg for the holidays and can bring her to see us?”

  For a moment nothing more was said and the only sound was the sputtering of the logs burning in the fireplace. Then the library doors opened and Hector came in, carrying a large, round tray with a silver tea service.

  Seizing her chance, Avril spoke up with gentle dignity, “Thank you, Hector. If you’ll put the tray right here, we’ll serve ourselves.” She indicated the low table in front of the sofa on which she had seated herself.

  Hector followed her instructions and left the room, later reporting to Cookie, “Young Miss shore got her manners.”

  Watching Avril’s graceful movements, Graham’s eyes shone with indulgent tenderness as she poured the tea, adding cream to his and tucking the snowy linen napkin under the saucer of the cup as she handed it to him. Amused by her desire to impress him, he saw, nevertheless, her new command of the social graces. Indeed, she was a credit to her training, yet retained a quality that was uniquely hers, though he had yet to name it.

  This new Avril presented a fascinating subject, Graham decided, observing her. The gold damask upholstery of the sofa set off her vivid coloring, her flaming hair through which the firelight sent golden lights. Perhaps she was not classically beautiful, but the combination of features was intriguing. All her freckles had faded and the stubby little nose had lengthened to an aristocratic shape, her large, luminous eyes the color o
f tide pools mysteriously changing from gray to green.

  As if all at once aware of his gaze upon her, Avril gave a little bounce on the sofa pillows, breaking into his thoughts. “Isn’t this cozy, just the two of us?”

  “Indeed it is!” he exclaimed, surprised by her directness into telling her the truth.

  She gave a delighted laugh and smiled at him over the rim of her teacup.

  The spontaneous happiness he felt at her laughter was immediately discernible in his eyes and in the smile that softened the lines bracketing his mouth.

  Avril felt a burst of assurance. Graham was happy to see her, glad she was home! She reached across the table and touched his hand.

  At her touch the old familiar bond between them sprang to life, heightened by another element both felt but were not ready to express.

  Patience, Avril counseled herself with a speeding heart. Time. That’s all it will take. Time for Graham to get used to the fact that I’m no longer a child.

  The firelight filled the room with a glowing warmth and the light patter of Avril’s voice lulled Graham into a reflective mood. He remembered how many nights he had returned to this big house, feeling lonely and depressed. Now he understood why. Without Avril, this house—like his life—was empty.

  chapter

  14

  AVRIL HAD FORGOTTEN with what enthusiasm Christmas was celebrated among the plantation dwellers along the James River and in Williamsburg. She had become used to the quieter festivities at the Academy, closely associated with the church and with the emphasis on the spiritual observance of the season.

  Invitations for all sorts of parties arrived at Montclair within days of her return, and this year she was included in many of them. Although she had not been formally introduced into society, Avril was pleased to see both hers and Graham’s names on quite a few of the envelopes.

  One morning shortly after her arrival, Avril came downstairs to find a pile of varicolored envelopes on the silver tray on the hall table. Flipping through them, Avril came upon one with a seal and crest she recognized: CF in elegant initials. She picked it up and held it for a long time. Instantly she felt all her old antagonistic feelings for the fascinating Mrs. Fontayne sweep over her. She had never forgotten Clarice’s part in influencing Graham to send her away to boarding school. Away from her beloved Montclair. Away from Graham.

  Avril tried to justify her dislike of Mrs. Fontayne, thinking that it was more than irrational childish resentment. But she could not deny that the seed planted by the Camerons—that Graham was the target of the lovely widow’s wiles—was the real reason for her antagonism.

  Avril was still holding the square, rich vellum envelope with its intricate calligraphy when Graham came in from his plantation rounds.

  “Another batch of requests for the honor of our presence at some soiree? It seems you have added immeasurably to my popularity, my dear. I can’t recall ever having received so many invitations!”

  There was nothing Avril could do but pick up the lot and carry them into the library for Graham’s perusal.

  Helping him remove his caped greatcoat, Avril talked gaily of all sorts of small, inconsequential things in an attempt to distract him from the task at hand. He would read all the invitations, then decide which to accept and which to decline regretfully. She tugged on the needlepoint bellpull, asking Hector when he appeared to bring a pot of tea and biscuits. Then she pulled up a stool and sat down beside Graham’s easy chair in front of the fire.

  The moment had come. She might as well be comfortable.

  Sorting through the envelopes, Graham held up one, chuckling. “For the socially ambitious, here is the most sought-after invitation of the season—Clarice Fontayne’s New Year Eve’s party. There are some who would do anything to get in, I’m told, even going so far as to forge one of these.”

  Avril tensed as she saw Graham toss it onto one of the piles. Accepted or refused? Hope sprang up in her. Perhaps Graham had seen through the woman’s artifice, after all, for she knew he detested sham in any form. But his next words dashed her hope.

  “Wait until you see how she has redecorated the Handley house. Brought over all sorts of objets d’art from France and some grand furnishings from her English mansion. May raves about it. So shall we go see what all the fuss is about?”

  “Becky will be visiting then,” she reminded him. “Do you think, perhaps, that we could have a small party here instead?”

  “Oh, I doubt that we could surpass the lavish affair that Clarice is sure to have. Don’t you think your friend would enjoy a taste of elegance?”

  Avril knew that Becky would be overjoyed to attend such a gala. She could just see those blue eyes widening at the gowns, the decorations, the food served at the Fontayne mansion.

  Forced to tell the truth, Avril nodded. “Yes, I guess Becky wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  Avril would have liked nothing better than to spend most of her holiday time alone with Graham, for they seemed to have found a new level of companionship, a new camaraderie. She felt that Graham respected her hard-won maturity, and she was looking forward to many happy hours of discussing the subjects into which she had gained clearer insight.

  But that was not to be, for the next afternoon Logan and Marshall came calling. Their reunion, although marked with the natural enthusiasm of long friendship, had a new element as well, Avril was quick to see.

  Marshall had simply grown taller, losing his adolescent awkwardness. But his face still held the boyish openness and ready smile. It was Logan who had changed most. Not only had he grown extraordinarily handsome, but his manner was decidedly different—especially in his attitude toward Avril.

  She had felt his cool appraisal the minute they had arrived, and the interest kindled by her appearance gave her a distinct sense of satisfaction.

  As they were leaving, Logan lingered a moment in the hall after Marshall had bounded down the porch steps where the grooms held their horses for mounting.

  “You will be coming to our Open House on Christmas Day, won’t you, Avril?” he asked. The holiday party at Cameron Hall was a countywide tradition.

  “Of course,” she smiled. “We wouldn’t think of missing it.”

  “I’m glad,” he replied, touching her arm. “Maybe we can find a way to slip away from little brother and catch up after all these years.” There was a certain insinuation in his words that she found vaguely exciting. “I never thought you’d grow up to be so beautiful, Avril.” His smile broadened to his old teasing grin. “But you have!”

  As it turned out their plans for horseback riding the next day were rendered impossible by an unexpected change in the weather. A light rain falling during the night turned to sleet and then to snow, making Montclair an impenetrable white fortress and preventing any visitors from negotiating the ice-encrusted roads and trails. Avril’s concealed satisfaction at the pleasant isolation with Graham was short-lived, however. On the third day brilliant sunshine fast melted away any trace of snow, and the following day was Christmas and the occasion of the Camerons’ open house.

  After the Christmas morning gift-giving to the assembled house and field servants, a tradition at Montclair, Graham and Avril had their own private exchange.

  Graham seemed pleased with the framed watercolor of Montclair that Avril had executed from memory during her time at the Academy, and he praised her talent extravagantly.

  Among the several gifts Graham presented her was a velvet jewel box containing a tiny jeweled pin—a fleur-de-lis composed of aquamarines and pearls.

  “Oh, Graham! It’s lovely!” exclaimed Avril, clasping it to her.

  “I’m glad you like it. I hoped it would be something you might enjoy wearing.” He smiled tenderly, regarding the breathless young woman, whose cheeks bloomed with a color that rivaled her glorious hair.

  “Oh, I shall!” she declared and immediately fastened it onto the collar of her spencer, the high-waisted jacket of her blueberry wool dress. “I shall lov
e wearing it!” she said, thinking she would probably pin it to her nightie, so thrilled was she that Graham had chosen it for her.

  Early Christmas afternoon they drove to Cameron Hall. Dressed in a short cape, the same bright blue as her dress and wearing the gray squirrel tippet and muff, another of Graham’s Christmas presents to her, Avril felt she had never been so happy.

  So far her holidays had been sublime. She and Graham had enjoyed some unexpected moments alone together thanks to the unpredictable weather, and next week Becky was coming for a visit. Then in only a few months she would graduate from the Academy and come home to Montclair for good.

  She looked over at Graham and smiled a secret little smile. Dreamily she imagined those long, leisurely days of summer when once again she and Graham would be together. This time, however, she would not be ticking away the days before her departure for the Academy. Her formal education would be complete and she could remain at Montclair forever!

  Cameron Hall was beautifully decorated and filled with gaily attired guests. Auntie May, in a geranium-red taffeta gown, greeted them affectionately. It was the first time she had seen Avril since her return and she looked her over from head to toe.

  “Oh, my! Now, I believe every word of Logan’s description!” she exclaimed. “My funny little redhead has become a beautiful auburn-haired princess!” She beamed at Avril as though she herself were responsible for the transformation. Then she winked slyly at Graham. “Now, all we have to do is find her a proper prince.”

  “But how many frogs will she have to kiss first?” asked a deep, male voice from behind her, and Avril turned to see Logan smiling at her.

  They all laughed at the jest except Graham, who looked a bit uncomfortable.

  “Come along, there’s food and punch and the famous Cameron eggnog,” Auntie May urged, taking both of them by the arm and leading them toward the dining room.

  Spread out on the festively decorated table, draped in lace and sparkling with crystal and silver and gleaming china, was a feast truly fit for royalty!