by Jane Peart
“Aren’t they lovely? Which one will you choose for your debut party?”
“I’m not sure.” Avril was still overwhelmed that Graham would select such extravagant gowns for her. “But, Auntie May, I don’t understand. How would Graham know my measurements or how to go to a dress salon or—”
May seemed a bit disconcerted, then giving a small shrug, said, “Well, actually, on the ship going over last spring, Clarice gave him the names of some of the shops she prefers when she is in Paris—”
“Clarice Fontayne?” Avril felt some of her elation drain away at the mention of the name.
“Yes, she had been visiting relatives in Charleston and had booked passage on the same ship as Graham. She owns a small house in the south of France and I think was returning to place it for sale. Anyway, I suppose Graham discussed what he wanted to do and asked for some suggestions—”
“You mean Clarice picked out these gowns?” Avril wrinkled her nose slightly.
“Oh, no! Graham chose the materials, the colors—everything! He has marvelous taste, don’t you think?”
“But how did he know they would fit?” Avril persisted.
Auntie May looked smug. “To be truthful, I thought there might be a chance, and I gave him your measurements before he left, just in case—”
All her pleasure in the wonderful surprise returned. How thoughtful, how dear of Graham. Spontaneously, Avril hugged May.
‘Thank you, Auntie May, thank you!” she said rapturously. Then she picked up one of the dresses, held it up to her, and spun around. “I feel like Cinderella,” she laughed, “with a real fairy godmother!”
“A kind and loving guardian, I would say,” corrected May.
And perhaps one day he would be something more! Avril smiled a secret smile.
chapter
20
DRAWING ON her long white kid gloves and buttoning them at her wrists, Avril could think only of Graham. Would he think her beautiful tonight? What mattered was his opinion and his alone.
She confronted herself severely in the bedroom mirror. Her dress, of course, was perfection. One of the Paris creations, it complemented her coloring and made the most of her slender figure. Of pale blue crepe-lisse, ornamented with Persian roses and satin ribbons, it was fashioned on Grecian lines, the delicate fluted tiers of the gauzy fabric fluttering with every step.
Copying a picture, Avril had plaited her hair and drawn the braids up in loops, entwined with satin ribbons pierced with seed pearls. As a final touch she had pinned the fleur-de-lis pin on the tucked bodice. Tonight she would not allow the memory of Clarice Fontayne to spoil anything for her. To her vast relief the widow was out of town and would not be present at her party.
In the last few days Avril had been filled with a new determination. With her debut she entered into a new phase of her life. Inadvertently Auntie May had given her the clue by saying that many girls married within the year of their bow to society. This being proper, then publicly acknowledging her secret marriage to Graham should not be at all complicated.
Ever since that day in the woods, Avril had become more and more convinced that Graham was fighting some deep feeling for her that he did not wish to acknowledge, even to himself. Possibly he felt that such feelings for his ward were unseemly and would create gossip damaging to both of them, or that he was too old for her. Whatever his reason, Avril felt sure he needed only her declaration to believe that it was not only possible, but inevitable that they should spend the rest of their lives together.
With new confidence Avril floated out of her room and down the stairway on a cloud of anticipated happiness, never imagining it was as precarious as it was precious.
She wanted a few minutes alone with Graham before the guests arrived. Already she could hear the musicians tuning their instruments, could see the servants scurrying about, carrying cut-glass punch bowls and silver trays of sparkling crystal glasses. Her excitement mounted. This promised to be the most wonderful evening of her entire life!
She halted midway down the stairs to glance, as she always did, at the portraits of the brides of Montclair. With a new sense of the lightness of her “heart’s desire,” Avril knew that one day her picture would hang beside them.
She found Graham in the pantry, consulting with Hector about the beverages to be served during the evening. She stood watching him, thinking how magnificent he looked in his elegant evening attire. Graham seemed to grow more handsome, more distinguished-looking with each passing year. The brush of silver at his temples enhanced the tan, healthy look of his smooth skin. His carriage was as erect, his body as muscularly slim as when she had first met him. The clothes he had had tailored in London fit superbly. Avril had not the slightest doubt that Graham would be the finest-looking gentleman at the ball tonight.
When she called his name softly, he turned, seeing her for the first time. A look of affection and admiration passed across his face as he took in everything, from her charming hairstyle to the tips of her blue satin slippers.
Avril pirouetted in a slow circle, fluttering her fan, holding out her train, a slender, graceful figure.
“Do you like it?” she asked eagerly.
“No Parisian lady-at-court could look more beautiful!” he declared.
She laughed delightedly, her eyes sparkling. She had never felt so happy, for in that brief unguarded moment she had seen in Graham’s face all that she needed to confirm her own inner belief.
“He must love me! He will love me as I love him!” she whispered in her secret heart, ignoring the thought that followed, “And what if he doesn’t?”
But she would have tonight. Tomorrow was only a dim promise. The future, after all, was in God’s hands.
“Come into the library with me for a minute,” he said, offering her his arm. “I have a little birthday gift for you.”
She slipped her hand through it and together they walked across the hall and into the library. Graham went over to the desk, opened a drawer, and brought out a small box. He seemed hesitant.
“I hope you like this.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked, puzzled.
“Well, open it and see. Then I’ll tell you why I had my doubts.”
She took the box, touched the spring that opened the lid, and saw inside a pair of aquamarine and pearl earrings in the shape of tiny fleur-de-lis.
“Oh, they’re lovely!” she breathed. “Why would you ever think I might not like them?”
“Because I have never seen you wear the pin of the same design since last Christmas—”
Avril felt a small clutch of regret. How could she tell him that knowing Clarice had picked it out had spoiled the gift for her?
“I ordered them made up at the same time as the pin, but they were not ready in time for Christmas, so I planned to give them to you for your graduation. But when I never saw you wear the pin—I assumed you didn’t care for it—although Clarice Fontayne, who happened in to the jewelry store in Williamsburg, thought it was lovely when I showed it to her.”
Avril realized with a shock that Clarice had deliberately let her believe the lie that it was she, not Graham, who had selected the pin. What a cruel, spiteful person she was!
“Oh, Graham, I’m so sorry about the misunderstanding, but I do love the pin and am wearing it tonight as you can see. And the earrings are exquisite. That you had them designed and made up especially for me means so very much.”
Impulsively she reached up, bent his head toward hers, and would have kissed his lips, but at the last minute he turned his head and her kiss landed on his cheek. No matter, Avril thought happily. At least that mystery has been explained.
Oh, what glorious news! she thought. He loves me! I knew it all the time. What does it matter that Clarice tried to trick me. Tonight, after everyone is gone and we are alone, I shall tell him how long I have loved him and he can tell me!
So sure was Avril of the evening’s happy outcome that her countenance glowed and her eyes spark
led so that everyone declared she had never looked so beautiful.
Carriage after carriage drew to a stop before the portico, and one after the other deposited its passengers, the ladies in billowing silks and laces, the gentlemen in fine broadcloth and ruffled linen. The drawing room, center hall, and dining room soon resembled a swirling garden of bright flowers as guests milled about through the rooms.
When the music for dancing began, pairs of couples took their places, moving, swaying, bowing in rhythm to the spritely tunes. Avril was immediately surrounded by young men clamoring for a dance, and as she passed her card among them, each in turn scribbled in his name.
Standing in the hall, waiting to receive any late-arriving guests, Graham observed her. In the glittering glow of the dozens of candles in the crystal chandeliers overhead, Avril’s hair shone with amber lights. Her blue gown set off the creamy shoulders, the slender neck, the interesting profile of her head lifted to her dance partner.
How lovely and graceful Avril was tonight—how different from that scrawny little waif he had brought here seven years ago. He felt his chest constrict as she drifted from partner to partner. The yawning difference in their ages, their positions, struck him with new awareness. Just then Avril caught his eye and, over the shoulder of her dancing partner, smiled and gave him a little wave. She looked so joyful, so full of youthful exuberance that his own heart ached to share it—every thought and feeling, to share her life!
“Graham, my dear!” he heard May’s voice calling behind him and turned to see her entering from the open front door. “Look who came back in time to attend Avril’s party!”
Both Graham and Avril looked and, at the same moment, saw the one who had accompanied the Camerons to Montclair on the night that was to have been Avril’s happiest.
“Clarice,” murmured Graham, bowing low over the lady’s proffered hand. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
Avril’s heart was clutched by icy dread. Why, tonight of all nights? All her happiness drained away, and, as it did, her eyes met those of Logan Cameron. He was looking at her with something very like sympathy, but she felt as if he were reading her mind. With a purposeful stride, he crossed the room and, taking her dance card, scratched out the next name and wrote in his own.
“The privilege of an old and trusted friend,” he explained to the disappointed young man who had just stepped up to claim Avril.
Even with Logan, Avril did not feel she could give full vent to her emotions, so she attempted a charade of frivolous conversation. She was grateful and relieved, however, when he tactfully took charge, dancing her skillfully out of the room, through the French doors, and onto the veranda.
“What a lovely idea,” she thanked him. “It was getting much too warm in there.”
Taking his cue from her, Logan also struck a light touch. “Especially for the belle of the ball who has not missed a single dance, I’ll wager.” In his voice was the teasing affection of long friendship. “So now it’s official. Miss Avril Dumont, turned out like a Parisian mannequin, gilded and coiffed to a fare-thee-well, on display for all Mayfield gentry to see, inspect, and put up their bid. Now the question remains: Who shall win this prize?”
“Logan! You are awful! Incorrigible!” scolded Avril, but she could not help laughing.
“Besides the poor, besotted Jamison Buchanan, whom else have you considered giving your hand in marriage?”
“I thought I told you, Logan—” Avril began.
“I know what you told me, Avril. But I also have ears. I am privy to much discussion, much speculation, much conspiring among the elders, and somehow your name is constantly cropping up. Why is that, do you suppose?” Logan asked, all innocence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Why not? Unless, like an ostrich, you’re sticking your head in the sand?”
“Marriage is the farthest thing from my mind,” Avril retorted archly.
“Well, that isn’t the case with everyone else.”
“Why are we talking such silliness on this beautiful evening?” She was growing annoyed now.
They were quiet for a few minutes, leaning on the porch balustrade, looking out at the garden, barely silvered by a rising moon.
Then Logan broke the silence. “You know, Avril, my mother would be very happy if you married one of us. So why not consider it.” His tone was half-joking, half-serious.
She turned to look at him in amazement. Auntie May herself had witnessed the signing of the document of marriage between Avril and Graham. Evidently she had kept the secret well. So why this hint of a possible marriage to one of her sons?
Avril smiled up at Logan and said in soft reproach. “You aren’t in love with me, Logan. That’s reason enough.”
Logan placed his hand over hers where it lay on the balustrade.
“That wouldn’t be difficult. Not difficult at all,” he said seriously, then shifting to a lighter tone went on, “Anyway, from what I’ve observed of marriages, the most successful ones are not made in heaven, but are very down-to-earth affairs. Common backgrounds, interests, family. We certainly have that!”
“The same is true of Marshall and me!” she laughed.
“Oh, Marshall!” scoffed Logan. “He’s so far gone on Becky he can’t see anyone else!”
“I’m glad,” declared Avril. “Becky is a darling. I’m sure they would be ideally suited, very happy together.”
“Not to change the subject, but just what plans do you have for your future?” Logan asked.
“Nothing very different from now. To stay on here at Montclair, ride in the woods, spar with you in these—interesting—verbal battles!” she teased.
“You mean stay on here at Montclair—with Graham?”
“And what would be wrong with that?”
“Well, there is the possibility that he will marry one day, when his guardianship is over. Or even before, if Clarice Fontayne has anything to say about it. Then what would you do? There can’t be two mistresses of Montclair.”
Logan’s words pierced Avril’s complacent happiness like a stiletto. The night that had shone for her like a thousand stars splintered and crashed around her like a house of cards swept away by a careless wind. She straightened and stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“The fascinating widow of Williamsburg!” Logan replied satirically. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? You must be deaf and blind, Avril, not to see what is going on right under your pretty little nose.”
Avril felt a vice of pain grip her throat. “It can’t be true,” she managed to say over the swelling lump that thickened her voice. “Graham is much too—too—intelligent to—”
Logan’s sarcastic laugh stopped her. “Too intelligent not to be intrigued by a sophisticated beauty like Clarice? When did intelligence have anything to do with being enamored?” Logan put his hand to Avril’s hair, twisting one of the straying tendrils around his fingers. “You’ll have to wake up, Avril, grow up. Life is not a fairy tale that always has a happy ending. I say this not to hurt you, but to save you from greater hurt. It would be foolish to ignore the obvious.”
An indignant denial sprang to Avril’s lips but was instantly halted by the sound of an affected little laugh nearby. Turning in the direction from which it came, they saw two figures emerging from the shadows of the garden. Graham and Clarice! As they approached the steps of the veranda and saw Avril and Logan, they stopped.
Avril’s heart felt leaden within her at the sight of Clarice. The older woman was a vision in blond lace over satin. A tulle scarf, embroidered with glittering beads, swathed her bare shoulders and décolletage. Her pendant earrings were diamond and gold as were the bracelets she wore over her gloves.
“Good evening, sir.” Logan spoke first and Avril could have kicked him. With that deferential address he had immediately set Graham apart from them, and she suspected that it had been intentional. She threw him a scathing look, and to her horror, realize
d that Clarice had seen it!
Clarice looked amused. “Are you enjoying your debut, Avril?”
Avril, disguising her resentment, gripped her fan so tightly that she heard one of its fragile spokes snap in two. “Oh, yes! It’s quite the most delightful evening I’ve ever spent.”
“Did you put me down for a dance?” Graham asked.
Wounded as she was, Avril’s only thought was to strike back, not caring that the target was the one she loved most in the world.
“Oh, Graham, I’m so sorry. I forgot and I’m completely filled up!” She held up her tasseled dance card.
A curious look crossed Graham’s face, and for one startled moment, he appeared hurt. Then he said gently, “Of course, my dear. I should have known.”
Avril felt Logan’s eyes burning into her, but she kept a smile fixed on her face.
Graham said to Clarice, “Shall we go in and join the dancing?”
Clarice gave Avril a long speculative look, and as she and Graham started toward the house she paused. Cupping Avril’s cheeks with her smooth gloved hands, she murmured, “What a child you are!” Then she passed on.
Avril let out her breath after they had disappeared inside and rapped her closed fan sharply on the balustrade. Logan, standing behind her, said nothing.
Then Avril spun around and, taking his arm, lifted her chin bravely. “Take me in now, Logan. Jamison is waiting.”
chapter
21
LONG AFTERWARD Avril would ask herself how something that had begun in such hope and happiness could end in disaster and despair. That it was her own fault made it no easier to bear.
For weeks after her debut party, Avril went over and over the events of the evening—what she might have said differently, how she could have avoided the confrontation with Clarice altogether. Agonizingly she relived every detail, each time punishing herself the more.
With the chance meeting of Clarice and Graham on the veranda, she realized that she had completely lost her composure. From that point on the evening ceased to be a joyous occasion and, as it proceeded, grew worse.