by Jane Peart
“I received special permission from my instructors to take some of my examinations early so I could attend my sister’s graduation,” Jamison told Avril, then lowered his voice significantly, “but my real reason was that I had to see you again.”
Avril, whose attention was distracted by Graham’s presence across the room, was only half listening. What annoyed her most about the present situation was that almost immediately the company had been divided into two groups—on one side, Graham with the parents; on the other, the young people!
“Did you hear me, Avril?” Jamison was saying. “I will be in Williamsburg at the end of the summer so I can finish up my work before the fall term begins.”
Avril turned to regard him blankly. His eyes were holding hers in an adoring gaze.
“I hope to see a great deal of you then,” he said.
“Oh … well … yes, of course, Jamison,” she replied without enthusiasm. Something that was being said on the other side of the room reached her ears and filled her with apprehension.
In response to some question from Mrs. Buchanan, she heard Graham reply, “I shall be leaving directly from here, right after the graduation ceremonies.”
Every nerve tensed as Avril strained to hear more.
“To Scotland, you say? How interesting.”
“I have always wanted to visit the land of my ancestors, especially the area on the coast called Montrose, from which our family’s surname is derived. And the home of the clan, the ‘gallant Grahams,’ for which I personally was named. History is one of my passions, and to trace our family history should prove very fascinating.”
Avril gasped, feeling almost as if Graham had struck her. Graham—going to Scotland right after graduation? Why hadn’t he told her? Or why could he not take her along with him? Was that the “surprise” rather than a stupid dinner party? Hope sprang into her heart, setting it pounding. But Graham’s next words banished even that frail expectation.
“Oh, Avril will be returning to Williamsburg with my friends, the Camerons. She will stay with my Great-Aunt Laura there, who is quite elderly and will be glad of young company this summer.”
“Perhaps Avril could spend part of the summer with us at Woodlawn, Mr. Montrose. We would love to have her and I know Rebecca will find it easier to part with her if she knows Avril will be coming for a visit.”
“I think that could be arranged.”
There was further murmured conversation between them, but Avril heard no more. The long-anticipated summer at Montclair with Graham, his getting to know her again on a new and more equal basis, faded like a misty dream.
The bell, announcing the end of visitation, echoed through the hall and everyone rose.
Avril followed Graham out to the entryway. “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning a trip to Scotland?” she asked, managing to keep her voice steady.
“I was planning to tell you, my dear. I was just waiting for the most opportune time.”
Making an effort to keep her lower lip from trembling, she said, “You might have told me sooner.” She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that—like the complaint of a fretful child.
Graham touched her arm, “I’m sorry. Perhaps I was wrong, but I didn’t want to spoil this special time for you in any way.”
“Well, you have!” Again the note of childish petulance. Fighting foolish tears she was thankful the shadowy hallway prevented Graham from seeing them.
“Avril—” Graham began, but just then Logan and Marshall joined them and their laughing farewells and parting remarks to Becky prohibited anything more being said on the matter. The headmistress had come into the entryway to bid the Buchanans farewell, and Avril’s distress was covered. She moved away from Graham and then he was gone.
It was only when they were in the privacy of their shared room that she vented her feelings to Becky.
“It’s not fair how my life is always being planned for me!” she said indignantly as she paced up and down their small room. “I’m almost nineteen and I’m still treated as a child.”
“But at least you’re coming for a long visit with us at Woodlawn, Avril! Mama told me your guardian gave permission. We’ll have such fun! I’m so glad when we say good-bye that it will just be until the end of the summer!”
The end of the summer! Avril moaned to herself as she lay sleepless in her bed long after Becky had fallen asleep. The end of the summer, when Graham would return, seemed a lifetime away! Somehow she would have to find some way to survive until then.
Avril felt angry, betrayed! It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t her prayers answered? She had tried to be good, to be patient, “to delight in the Lord,” “to wait upon him.” According to the Scriptures she was, in turn, promised “the desires of her heart.” Why had He not brought it to pass?
Her heart felt heavy and rebellious. How long must she wait?
She thought of the summer ahead in Williamsburg. She had come to love Graham’s Great-Aunt Laura, but to spend the entire summer in town and not at Montclair seemed a terrible lesson in patience.
As she lay there, Brother Lowe’s words echoed in her mind: ‘Trust in the Lord and lean not on your own understanding.” Avril gave her pillow a little thump and turned it over. Well, that’s what she would have to do because she couldn’t understand. Not a bit of it! But she would try.
The next day as the two girls donned their graduation dresses of white lawn with lace collars, and pinned on the filmy white caps adorned with white ribbons to signify their status as graduates, they were unusually quiet.
It was as if they were realizing that this day was both an end and a beginning. Even though they had often bemoaned the strict rules of the Academy, they knew these years had been important and their impression would mark them forever.
This time of introspection was soon broken with the delivery of several bouquets.
It was a tradition at the Academy for friends and family to send bouquets of flowers that would later be displayed with the sender’s cards around the dining hall where a reception was held after the ceremonies.
With each new delivery, the girls ooh-ed and ah-ed, finding and opening the congratulatory cards revealing the identity of the sender.
Becky was still starry-eyed over a card from Marshall that had accompanied his bouquet, when Avril discovered a note in an unfamiliar handwriting resting in a bouquet of Michaelmas daisies and jonquils.
Another step along the way, dear Cousin. I look foward to the time when I may present my felicitations openly without fear of rebuke from those who “protect” you. Until your twenty-first birthday.
Always your affectionate cousin,
Claude Duchampes
The memory of his unexpected visit to the Academy years before returned vividly to Avril’s mind, and with it the same vaguely uneasy feeling she had experienced then. There had been—for all his good looks and debonair manner—something sinister about Claude Duchampes. The fact that he had pledged her to silence, not wanting Graham to know of his contact with her, seemed unprincipled. And why had he insinuated that Graham’s guardianship was unwarranted?
Hurriedly Avril tucked the card into her pocket and later tore it into tiny bits. When they took their bouquets downstairs to be placed on display, Avril left that one behind, grateful that Becky was too absorbed in her own happiness to notice.
Then before they left for the church, where the graduation ceremonies were to take place, Avril removed a single rose from the bouquet Graham had sent and pinned it to her sash.
As the graduates filed into the church and took their places, at least two people in the audience focused their gaze on the tall, graceful, young woman whose flaming hair contrasted strikingly with her white attire.
May Cameron leaned over to Graham and whispered, “How pretty and poised Avril looks. Sending her to this school was a brilliant idea, if I may say so. She has turned out beautifully.”
Graham nodded, not moving the direction of his eyes.
&
nbsp; Although he was seated in the section reserved for parents, he felt anything but parental. He had slept poorly the night before, troubled by the expression on Avril’s face when she had confronted him about his trip to Scotland—one of the few impulsive decisions he had ever made. Yet how could he have explained to her that she was the reason he must leave—and soon? For it had occurred to him that, after graduation, she would be returning to Montclair to stay and—what then? In the face of that disturbing question, he had been compelled to face the fact of his changed feelings for her.
Since Christmas Graham had been uncomfortably aware that, since he had brought Avril as a child into his home, the sympathetic affection he had felt for her then had changed into a man’s intense longing for the woman she had become. Not until that day in December, when he had first seen her after their long separation, had he recognized the powerful emotion as love. In that moment of recognition, however, everything had changed—and therein lay the danger.
Never, Graham determined, by any careless word or deed, must anyone learn of his secret love—least of all, Avril herself. To reveal his heart would be to destroy the trust between guardian and ward. That trust must be kept inviolate at all costs. And the cost would be great—to put as much distance between them as possible, for the duration of his guardianship. After that? Only God knew. Graham was certain only that her future was his responsibility, a sacred duty he would never betray.
Avril, from her place among the graduates, searched the audience for the one face most dear to her. Finding it, she smiled tremulously.
Oh, Graham, if you only knew how much I love you! her heart cried, wishing he could hear its secret message of longing. But one day you will know, I promise. I will tell you and you will have to listen. You will have to know that I love you—no longer as a child loves but as a woman loves!
Unconsciously Avril’s fingers touched the delicate petals of the rose from Graham’s bouquet. Again her eyes sought his and in that one unguarded moment the answer was clear. Convinced as she was that their love was in God’s plan, Avril felt a certain peace in her pain. If it takes forever, I’ll wait, for one day you will love me, Graham, as I love you.
At last the ceremony was over and the graduates mingled with the proud parents, relatives, and well-wishers. Auntie May told Avril they would be leaving in the Cameron carriage the next day for Williamsburg, while Graham would take the stage to Wilmington, then on to Charleston, where he would embark on the ship for Scotland.
Then came the time for good-byes.
With gentle fingers Graham lifted Avril’s chin and wished her a happy summer, promising to see her at summer’s end.
“Will you be back for my birthday?” she asked him, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.
“Of course,” he smiled. She lowered her eyes, her lashes veiling what he might easily have read there.
Then he was gone. As she watched him walk away, Avril felt the pangs of remembered loneliness she had felt so often before on parting. She knew Graham was all she wanted, yet he seemed further beyond her reach than ever.
Part IV
Exile
1815-1816
The Lord watch between me and thee, when we are absent one from another.
Genesis 31:49
chapter
18
DURING THE TIME Avril spent in Williamsburg with Aunt Laura, she was continually amazed by the woman’s energy. Despite her age and deceptive fragility, Laura Barnwell was a tiny dynamo of activity.
She gave herself unceasingly to family and friends. Rising early to work in her gardens, she gathered fruit and flowers, preparing bouquets and baskets to be dispatched to friends who were ill, as well as providing artistic arrangements for the altar at the church each week. In addition, her house always smelled of lilacs or roses for she placed fresh-cut flowers in each room daily, and there was always a new centerpiece for the dining room table.
After “doing” the flowers, which occupied a good part of the morning, Laura then paid a visit to the kitchen, where she often prepared special dishes with her own hands. These might be delivered by one of the maids to tempt an invalid’s appetite or appear as a delicate dessert at one of her frequent dinner parties.
Upon observing the old lady, always impeccably attired in colors suited to her silvery hair and manifesting grace and charm in all circumstances, Avril was forced to reconsider her earlier hesitance in spending the summer here. The time, instead of being tedious and dreary, had been infinitely rewarding, for she had learned much of gracious hospitality and genuine compassion. Then, too, living with an elderly person who was both hard of hearing and somewhat frail had taught her patience on a very personal level.
Avril’s greatest lessons, however, came from the discovery that Laura Barnwell’s enduring strength was drawn from the Lord. Since her eyesight was failing, Avril was called upon to read a chapter of the Bible to her in the evenings before bedtime. Thus, the old lady and the vibrant young one became abiding friends.
Avril had promised Becky that she would visit Woodlawn before Graham returned, so at the beginning of August she left for Pleasant Valley. She planned it when she knew Jamison would be away during her stay. As much as she liked him, she could not face the thought of his coercing her into making any sort of promise she might not be able to keep.
Upon Avril’s return to Williamsburg she learned that Graham was back at Montclair, and lost no time in sending for a carriage.
The August day was humid and the trip along the dusty country roads seemed longer than usual, but it did provide her with time to remind herself that this homecoming would be different. With a whole summer to think about her relationship with Graham, she had decided that she must not be imprudent nor act impulsively. Gradually, she would simply demonstrate to him that she was now a woman, ready to love and be loved.
As she neared the turn-off to Montclair, Avril could hardly contain her excitement. It seemed an eternity since she had said good-bye to Graham at the Academy. She remembered contritely how childishly she had acted before he left for Scotland and was determined to behave quite differently when she saw him again.
When they rolled up the driveway and she saw the Camerons’ carriage drawn up before the veranda, Avril gave an impatient sigh. “Oh, no! And I had so hoped to have this first meeting with Graham by myself!”
Again she felt the rebuke of her conscience. “Patience,” she told herself, and with only a slight tightening of her mouth, she composed herself and alighted from the carriage to greet her guests.
Afterward, Avril was grateful for May’s presence, for Graham’s greeting was so reserved as to be construed as indifference. May, on the other hand, had been so delighted to see Avril that her spirits lifted for the moment. In fact, Avril had no time to ponder Graham’s constrained manner, for Auntie May launched immediately into a subject about which she was utterly enthusiastic.
“We were just talking about you, darling!” she told Avril, giving her another hug, “and we have so many lovely plans.” Taking Avril’s arm, she led her into the parlor.
Here it was refreshingly cool. The louvered interior shutters closed out the heat of the early afternoon and the French doors were open to the side of the house that faced the river, admitting a gentle breeze into the room.
Auntie May poured Avril a glass of lemonade from a tall cut-glass pitcher, then patted the cushion beside her. “Sit beside me, my dear. It is time, I was telling Graham, for you to make your formal entry into Mayfield society and of course the most acceptable way is a ball. I suggested we hold it at Cameron Hall, for Hugh and I would love to host your debut. But Graham insists it be held here at Montclair. So, I agreed. However, he has graciously consented to allow me to arrange the entire affair, since I will never have a daughter of my own.” She gave a happy laugh and glanced gratefully at Graham.
Avril looked from one to the other. Attempting to disguise her horrified reaction to Auntie May’s plans, she gasped. “But t
hat’s so much trouble, Auntie May!”
“Trouble?” echoed May. “My dear, I’ll adore every minute.”
Avril tried to quell her aversion for the idea. The last thing in the world she wanted was to make her bow to society. She cast one desperate look at Graham, but if he saw her silent plea for help, he did not acknowledge it. He remained aloof, smiling indulgently at May, who prattled on and on about guests, flowers, music, and refreshments.
Avril tuned out May’s voice, wondering how she might escape the web that seemed to be weaving itself ever more tightly about her. She concentrated on Graham, hoping against hope to catch his eye and signal her distress, praying that he intervene in this frivolous event Auntie May seemed determined to orchestrate for her.
A sense of futility eclipsed her, and Avril experienced the complete collapse of her hopes for the last weeks of summer, when she had dreamed that she and Graham, alone in the seclusion of Montclair, could come to know each other again. Know each other as equals—not as child and guardian—but as two people drawn together and destined by God for a future together.
Now that was not to be, Avril realized hours later as she unpacked in her bedroom.
Auntie May had left in a flurry of last-minute promises to be back the next day with a guest list for their approval and appointments with dressmakers in Williamsburg for Avril’s new debutante wardrobe.
Avril’s emotional reaction to the whole idea of a debut vacillated between hopeless acceptance and furious resentment.
She had come home an honor graduate, expected to be treated accordingly, and within minutes of stepping in the door, had been relegated once again to the status of a dependent child for whom a party was being planned—a party she neither needed nor wanted.
Suddenly she heard horses’ hooves on the drive below. Flinging down her pile of petticoats, she rushed over to the window just in time to see Graham mount his horse and canter down the driveway.
Her fists clenched convulsively and she slumped down in a disconsolate heap on the floor. He hadn’t even asked her to go with him! In the old days he would have whistled up the stairs for her.