by Jane Peart
“Come, Avril,” he would have called. “Leave whatever you’re doing. It’s a fine evening. Let’s go riding!”
She had yearned to grow up, could not wait for the day when she would be eligible for Graham’s adult companionship, his love. Yet as Dilly had often warned, “You cain’t hab yo’ cake and eat it, too!” It seemed that in coming of age, Avril was losing much more than she had gained. In retrospect, those innocent days of childhood, when Graham had been hers, if only in the role of mentor, confidant, and guide—were to be preferred to this complete exile from his company.
That a subtle estrangement existed between them was all too clear. Where was the wonderful bond that had never needed words of reassurance, open declarations of affection? Gone. All gone?
She thought of those lovely sunlit days before she had ever gone away to boarding school, and they brought scalding tears coursing down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, rocking back and forth, remembering how much they had enjoyed each other’s company. Surely those happy times were not all in the past!
Yet perhaps all she would have of Graham resided now in her memory. This summer with Great-Aunt Laura had taught her the value of memory. The dear old lady, who was well into her eighties, might easily forget a neighbor who called every day or where she had put her thimble or even Avril’s name, but the summery days of her youth were crystal clear. Laura recalled vividly episodes from her own past when she and her sister were little girls and when Noramary Marsh, Graham’s grandmother, had come from England to live with them. Would it be that way for Avril too when she was old? Would she live in the dead past of her love for Graham?
She was not sure when her love for him had grown from the adoring worship of a child into the full-blown love of a woman—only that it had happened. That it might never be recognized nor fulfilled now became the reality replacing the dream.
The next day Logan and Marshall arrived on horseback to welcome Avril home. Marshall was full of questions about Becky, and Avril’s stay at Woodlawn.
Later Logan told Avril, “He’s quite smitten with your friend, you know. He keeps telling Mama to be sure to put the Buchanans on the guest list for your party!”
“The party!” Avril groaned.
Logan’s eyebrows lifted quizzically. “You’re not looking forward to making your bow to local society?” he asked, amused at her reaction.
“It’s mostly your mother’s idea, bless her heart! I know she thinks I should be thrilled. But I’m not. Quite frankly, I was looking forward to a quiet summer here with—” She stopped and felt herself blush.
Logan gave her a knowing look. “Don’t tell me that school turned you into a ‘blue stocking’—all books and Scripture verses and poetic walks in the woods!” he exclaimed in mock horror.
Avril laughed a little. “Not really. But it has been a long time since I had time of my own to do just as I wish. To ride, to read, and yes, even to take walks in the woods!” She mimicked his scoffing tone.
“Poor Avril,” he said softly. “They’re bound and determined to make a lady of quality of you. You know the whole show is to announce to all eligible bachelors and their matchmaking mamas that you have been refined, molded, polished, and turned out fashionably and are now a marriageable item on the market.”
“Logan!” Avril remonstrated, shocked. “How dreadful!”
“I agree.” He shrugged and smiled. “But it’s the truth. Of course, no one will admit it, least of all my mother. She is having the time of her life planning this affair for you.”
“I know.” Avril shook her head sadly. “And it’s such a waste. I don’t want to be married—” She pressed her hand to her mouth, realizing what she had said.
Logan looked at her curiously. “You mean—not ever?”
Avril knew they were treading on dangerous ground and quickly changed the subject. “Oh, not for years and years,” she said blithely.
Fortunately for her, further discussion was interrupted by Marshall’s return from the stables, where he had gone to get their horses.
After the Camerons had ridden away, Avril realized how close she had come to blurting out her feelings about Graham to Logan. The fact that her love must remain hidden indefinitely depressed her. All Auntie May’s plans to present her seemed so pointless when Avril knew that it was only Graham she loved. And if she could not have Graham, she would have no one.
As they dined alone that night, Avril’s secret weighed heavily. Being with him only confirmed what she felt. Glancing down the length of the table at his lean, handsome face, its interesting planes lighted by the flickering glow of the the candles, her heart contracted.
It was only his question when Hector had removed their dessert plates that jolted her out of her dreamy fantasy. “Would you come into the library with me, Avril? There are some important papers I need you to sign, some matters that have recently come up that must be discussed.”
She followed him wonderingly.
He went behind his desk and brought out a portfolio, then looked at her with something of the old mischief in his manner. “I’m sure what I have to say will be far less compelling than all the discussions you and May Cameron have been having lately. But life sometimes interrupts even the most pleasant of pastimes.”
She was about to deny his statement, declare that being with him mattered more than anything else in the world, but Graham was serious now, leafing through what appeared to be a sheaf of legal documents as he waved her to a chair.
“Sit down, my dear. I shall try to make this as brief as possible, but it is important that you understand. First, I must tell you that I came home from Europe by the southern route, landing in New Orleans, then traveling by stage to Natchez.”
“Natchez?” The familiar name sprang to Avril’s lips in a question.
“Yes. It was not until I returned from the Continent to England that my mail caught up with me. Unfortunately I received some disturbing news. It seems a relative of your mother, a distant cousin, is contesting the disposition of your property that will come to you from your mother’s inheritance, actually. In Mississippi, a woman’s property goes to her husband at marriage. In Eva’s case, however, her land was never legally transferred to Paul, and, therefore, the claimant is going to court to obtain it. Since your parents did not leave a will, all this must be validated after their deaths. The cousin is suing to have the Duchampes property returned to him.”
Avril frowned. It sounded hopelessly complicated.
“While I was in Natchez,” Graham continued, “I consulted with a lawyer, a friend of your parents. Together we drew up what we believe to be unassailable protection and a countersuit to this man’s claim. Since you have been under my guardianship as well as legally a Montrose with our—” He cleared his throat—“marriage … he feels this document should stand up in court.”
Avril’s pulses were pounding. This was the first time in all these years that Graham had mentioned the secret marriage.
“We also arranged for the lease of the house in Natchez to a young couple who are building their own house upriver. In five years, when the lease is up, you will have reached your majority and we can reassess what needs to be done at that time.”
Graham slid some papers across the desk top and handed her a pen. “Now, if you will just sign where indicated on that line. Your full legal name, please.”
Carefully she wrote, using her best penmanship: AVRIL DUMONT MONTROSE. How beautiful it looked—written out like that, she thought. Avril started to say something but Graham reached for the document, saying, ‘Thank you, my dear. That should take care of it.”
She stood up, hoping Graham would see the longing in her eyes. But he was preoccupied with the papers.
At length he looked up absently as if surprised to find her still standing there. Smiling, he said with a tone of dismissal, “That will be all, Avril. You may go now.”
With a feeling of incompleteness, she left. It seemed there should have b
een more for them to say to each other. Avril stood outside the closed library door for a moment longer. Then, with a heavy heart, she climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom.
After undressing slowly, she lay on her bed and watched the shadows turn the summer twilight to dusk, the dusk to blackest night. The wind rose, lifting the filmy curtains at the windows into billowing sails.
Avril lay there, for how long she did not know. Downstairs, she heard the clock strike, then the sound of Graham’s footsteps on the veranda beneath her window. She got up and crept over to the window and looked out to see him, hands clasped behind his back, walking along the paths of the rose garden.
What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Avril ached to know. He looked so lonely. She wanted to run to him, fling her arms around him, comfort him, saying “I’m here, Graham! You have me!”
Shortly she heard him come inside, close and lock the front door, and walk down the front hall to the master suite.
Sleepless, she tossed restlessly on her bed. The wind outside blew through the trees with the sound of sobbing, and some deep, unfathomable longing rose within her. Was it a longing destined to go unsatisfied?
chapter
19
ALMOST AS SOON as she awoke, Avril got out of bed. Within days of her return to Montclair, she had learned that lying abed for any length of time only increased her sense of depression. Staying active helped to dispel the dreary fact that even though she was in the same house with Graham, he might just as well still be in Europe for all she saw of him.
Of course Auntie May was partly responsible for taking up so much of Avril’s own time. There seemed to be an almost endless list of things that must be done for the party. Almost every day she dropped in to check with Avril on one thing or another.
If Avril did not get an early morning ride, chances were that Auntie May would have so many other plans for her that she would never get out to exercise the gentle mare that Graham had given her to replace Fancy, who had been put out to pasture.
She went over to the windows and opened the shutters. Early morning haze shimmered like gossamer over the river where little clouds of mist were rising.
She took her dark blue riding habit from the armoire but left off the jacket, knowing that the hot August sun would be bearing down even this early in the day. She braided her hair in the old way, tucking it under and securing it with a ribbon. Picking up her boots, she slipped down the stairway in her stocking feet so as not to disturb anyone.
At the stables Avril roused a sleepy stable boy to saddle Ginger and bring her out to mount.
Avril trotted down the driveway, then took the fence at the end of the meadow. Once clear, Avril gave Ginger her head and the mare hit her stride at the entrance to the sunlit woods. The air was fresh and cool, the horse under her moving in gentle rhythm, and Avril relaxed, feeling a revival of the old joy.
The morning sun slanting through the trees touched Ginger’s mane with fiery fingers and set it aglow, echoing Avril’s own coppery hair.
No sound disturbed the tranquil moment except the muted clop of Ginger’s hooves on the pine-needled trail. Approaching a clearing, they jumped a fallen log, then cantered to the crest of the hill overlooking the river. Reining in, Avril slowed the mare to a walk and guided her to a place where, by rising in her saddle, she had a clear view of the water below—dappled with sunlight and rushing over the rocks.
Just then Ginger’s ears twitched. Thus alerted, Avril tilted her head, listening. Even before he rode into sight, some instinct told her who was coming.
High in the treetops she heard the burst of a bird’s morning song. She turned in her saddle to see Graham riding toward her and gave him a radiant smile as he drew up alongside her, her heart singing, too.
“You’re out early,” he said, returning the smile.
“Want to race?” she challenged him.
“Why not?” His smile broadened and before she knew it, he had given Chief a kick and passed her in a gallop, throwing her a laughing glance as he did.
Avril clicked her reins and went pounding after, straining to catch up. But Graham had already dismounted and tethered Chief lightly to a tree to graze when she approached the hillock where he waited. It was a place they had often paused to rest after a hard ride. From here they could see the river, winding through the verdant land like a sparkling ribbon.
Silently she looped her reins to a slender tree to let Ginger munch on the lush woodsy brush, then joined Graham where he stood looking down on the peaceful scene.
Suddenly filled with an indescribable joy in this intimate reunion after such a long separation, Avril put her hand on his arm in a spontaneous gesture.
“It’s so wonderful being here with you, Graham! I’ve missed you so!”
Almost at once he moved away, and she saw a flicker in his face she had never seen there before. She had always been sensitive to Graham’s every expression that indicated what he was thinking or feeling. But now she was bewildered. Was he angry?
“What’s the matter, Graham? Did I say something wrong?”
He frowned and shook his head, answering brusquely, “No, of course not. I’m glad you’re happy to be home. It’s just that—” He stopped, flung out his hands in a kind of helpless gesture—“things are different now. I mean, when you were a child—” He groped for words. “But now you are a young woman and perhaps—”
“I should be less honest and open?” she said in a slightly sarcastic tone.
Graham’s mouth tightened. He ran one hand through his thick, dark hair but made no reply.
Avril gave a short laugh. “Oh, of course. It is expected of children to blurt out their feelings, but adults are expected to dissemble. I find it contradictory. Why are children punished for lying, but grown-ups encouraged not to tell the truth? That seems a very strange sort of behavior. It is certainly not what I was taught at that fine Christian school you sent me to, nor what I now believe!”
Graham looked distressed. “I’m sorry, Avril, I only meant—”
“I think I know what you meant, Graham.” With that she whirled around, walked over and untied Ginger, and pulled the reluctant horse from her feast.
“Wait,” Graham called, coming over, placing one hand on Ginger’s bridle, the other on the velvety nose. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Avril. You may have misunderstood—”
“You made yourself very clear, Graham. I don’t think I misunderstood,” she said tightly, trying not to cry.
“Come, we’ll ride back to the house together, have breakfast, talk—”
“No, thank you, Graham. I think I’ll ride a little longer.” She tugged at the reins, turning Ginger’s head. Then, flicking the mare’s neck with the reins, she cantered off in the opposite direction, nearly blinded by streaming tears.
Given her head, Ginger thundered freely along the winding woodland path before Avril checked her back into a rolling canter. As she slowed the mare, Avril realized they had ranged quite far in a broad circle and were headed back toward Montclair by a path she seldom took.
Looking around, she spied a vaguely familiar structure, outlined through the dense foliage. Once before, a long time ago, she and Graham had come upon this same spot. It was the little house, Eden Cottage, the traditional first home to which Montrose men brought their brides.
Avril raised herself in the saddle for a better look. Then she walked Ginger closer, guiding her through the tangled underbrush until she had an unobscured view.
What must have once been a small replica of the lovely gardens of Montclair was now wildly overgrown, with thistles thrusting up among the gnarled rosebushes.
Avril felt a deep sadness as she gazed thoughtfully at the small abandoned building. Would it ever be a “honeymoon house” again?
Pausing there in the quiet glade Avril had a strong sense of some other Presence. Unbidden, the words of the Psalmist came to mind: “Be still and know that I am God.”
For a moment Avril’s very
soul was touched with awe. God seemed to be speaking directly to her! In this beautiful place He was reminding her that He was present in her life and His perfect plan for her would unfold. She needed only to be patient, to wait upon Him and He would give her the desires of her heart.
Remorse filled her. All her frustration and fury at Graham’s earlier rejection evaporated. Her love for Graham would wait until he was ready to accept it. In spite of anything he said, any denial he made, Avril was sure she had seen something in his eyes this morning, something more than words could have expressed.
Slowly she turned Ginger around and started back to the house. She must find Graham and apologize. He did not deserve her anger. He needed her understanding. And she needed God to show her the way.
Leaving Ginger at the stables, Avril intended to slip into the house, go up by the back stairs, change, then go in search of Graham.
But when she walked into her bedroom, she found Auntie May in a state of excited animation.
“Come see, dear child. These just arrived yesterday and I brought them over as soon as possible!”
Avril looked past Auntie May to the two gowns spread out upon the bed. Wide-eyed, she sought an explanation from May.
“Yes, you lucky girl, they are for you!” May clasped her hands together happily. “From Paris!”
“Paris? But how?”
“Graham had them made for you when he was there this summer,” beamed May. “Wait until you see the workmanship, the exquisite seams and embroidery.”
Slowly Avril moved over to the bed and lifted the flounce of one of the gowns, then turned bewildered eyes again to May.
“But I thought Graham went to Scotland—”
“He did, of course. First. Later he traveled to France.”
“I didn’t know he went to Paris …,” continued Avril, still puzzled. “He didn’t say—”