by Jane Peart
All day long messengers came, bearing flowers, notes, gifts, and tokens of affection for Avril. As she bathed and dressed, she could not help thinking how richly blessed her life had been since coming to Montclair as a lonely orphan.
She remembered her first birthday party here, and realized that all the same people would be celebrating with her tonight—Auntie May, Uncle Hugh, Logan, and Marshall, with the delicious addition of Becky. And as indicated in Becky’s birthday note, Jamison would be with them, also.
Jamison! Coming, Avril felt certain, to demand an answer from her.
Ever since the wedding at Woodlawn Avril had felt more and more pressure. Jamison, gentle as he was, was becoming understandably impatient.
Not intending to use Jamison as a shield for her real love for Graham, she had nonetheless avoided giving him a direct answer to his continued pleas for her hand in marriage. But she needed time to plan, time to bring up the subject of their secret marriage, tell Graham she did not want it annulled, and open the way for him to confess his love for her.
Avril had been caught up in the web of misunderstanding that had swirled around her at Becky and Marshall’s wedding, with everyone assuming that she and Jamison would soon be making an announcement of their own. She had smiled through all the little jokes, playful banter, and innuendos people make under such circumstances. She had pretended a gaiety she did not feel, all the time seeing that spark of anger in Graham, that sudden flash of truth in his eyes.
What she had seen in Graham’s expression during the marriage ceremony and later blazing in his eyes even as he had calmly told her of Jamison’s request to propose, convinced her of his true feelings. In those few moments Avril had seen Graham’s soul stripped bare. He did love her. Why, then, had he not been able to tell her? Why had not God freed them both to declare their love?
Contritely Avril remembered something Aunt Laura, in her gentle wisdom, had once said: “God never tells us ‘why.’ He only asks us to trust Him.”
Trusting came hard for Avril. She had to work at her faith. But more and more she understood enough about herself to know that what she had told Becky was true: “If I cannot have Graham, I won’t have anyone else.”
Still, Avril was not ready to face the possibility of life without him. And if it did come to that, then she would have to leave Montclair.
But if she left, what would happen to Graham? What would become of Montclair without children to grow up here, to fill the rooms with laughter, to ride ponies in the meadows, to someday inherit this beautiful place? Would Graham live here alone? Or—and this thought chilled her—after she left, would Graham marry Clarice Fontayne?
Reluctantly Avril recalled what she had heard May and Logan discuss on the long trip from Woodlawn to Virginia after Becky’s wedding. At the last minute, Logan had changed his mind and accompanied his mother and Avril in the Camerons’ carriage. Worn out, Avril had fallen asleep during one part of the journey and had half-awakened while Logan and his mother discussed a subject not intended for her ears.
“But why Clarice?” Logan asked. “It would seem a man of Graham’s intelligence could see through that lovely façade.”
“Oh, I admit Clarice is somewhat frivolous—”
“Frivolous?” scoffed Logan. “She has a sharp, malicious tongue and a small mind.”
“Logan, that’s terribly harsh, isn’t it? It may seem she rarely gives a thought to anything beyond the moment, what gown to wear to the next fete or what to have for tea, but don’t underestimate her cleverness.”
“I don’t underestimate her, Mama, not at all. She would turn Montclair into a circus,” Logan said glumly. “Or let it go to seed. She enjoys the Continental-style life. They’d probably travel two-thirds of the year.”
“Graham has a plantation to run,” Auntie May chided. “And remember, Graham has been alone for a long time. Her companionship might be just what he needs.”
“What Graham needs is right in front of his eyes if only he could see it,” was Logan’s brisk rejoinder.
Dear Logan, Avril thought affectionately. Had he seen all these years what everyone else had somehow failed to see?
She and Logan had become closer than ever during the weeks they had spent together in England while his father was recuperating. When at last they had been given permission to take Uncle Hugh home, Logan had teased Avril on her elation at the prospect of returning to America.
“I had no idea you were such a patriot!” he remarked with exaggerated surprise.
“I’ve been away for a long time!” she retorted. “Months longer than you, Logan,” she reminded him archly.
“Ah, yes.” He nodded solemnly. “But something tells me it is less America, Virginia, and Montclair you have been longing to see than it is Graham.”
Avril gave him a quick, sharp look. Did Logan suspect? She started to protest, defend herself.
“When are you going to realize life is not a fairy tale with storybook endings?” Logan asked gently.
Again Avril started to say something but Logan had already turned away. His question rankled. Still, Avril stubbornly clung to her hope. Why wasn’t a “storybook ending” possible? Why couldn’t they—she and Graham—“live happily ever after”?
Not wanting to waste a minute of this very special day, Avril left her recollections and made quick work of bathing and dressing, then slipped down the back stairs and out into the garden. She took the shallow wicker basket hanging on a hook by the door and walked along the paths, selecting flowers. Morning dew still sparkled on the petals and leaves as she cut them carefully.
Avril wondered if Aunt Laura had taught Graham the same language of the flowers she had taught Avril. If so, would he recognize the message in the bouquet she arranged and placed on his desk to be found when he returned from plantation rounds—this mixture of marguerites, blue cornflowers, heartsease, and in the center, one perfect yellow rose? Together they spelled hope, faithfulness, love. Avril did not realize until that moment that they also symbolized the three spiritual virtues spoken of by the apostle Paul in the thirteenth chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians.
“And the greatest of these is love,” she quoted to herself as she set the vase on his desk.
She had so much love to give him that her heart was bursting with the desire to tell him so, to have him receive it.
All that day Avril’s excitement mounted. The importance of what she intended to do sent shivers of nervous anticipation trembling through her as she dressed for the evening.
She had chosen to wear the other gown Graham had commissioned for her in Paris. Fashioned with classic simplicity of line, it featured a peach-colored slip beneath a filmy lace overskirt. Its short, puffed sleeves and low, rounded neckline were trimmed with satin ruching in the same color, so complementary to Avril’s rich auburn hair and creamy complexion. As a finishing touch she fastened in the aquamarine-and-pearl earrings and pinned the fleur-de-lis pin to her bodice.
As she descended the stairway at the sound of the first carriage on the crushed shell drive, she saw Graham going out to greet them, and she paused on the landing. Someday, if all went as she planned, they would be going together to welcome guests as Master and Mistress of this great house. Unconsciously she glanced again at the framed portraits of the brides of Montclair along the wall, envisioning her own among them.
As she hesitated there caught up in her own fantasy, the grandfather clock in the hallway below struck the hour of seven. The strokes echoed strangely and Avril, without knowing why, shivered. For some reason she felt an eerie sensation, as if the clock were sounding a warning knell.
Passing off her momentary discomfort as nervous excitement, Avril flew down the rest of the stairs, hurrying toward the music, the laughter, the happy voices.
Avril moved through the evening with a heightened sense of destiny. Soon her future would be assured. Graham would know of her love and finally all would be settled. The thought acted upon her like a stimulan
t. She laughed and chatted happily with everyone. She opened her gifts with delight, and kissed each giver. Jamison beamed, and in her own happiness, Avril did not realize he assumed her mood reflected the fulfillment of his hope.
No one watching Avril would have guessed that she was impatiently waiting for the evening to be over.
Every time she glanced at Graham she could feel her heart quicken its beat. To her, he seemed more attractive than ever. The silvery strands that now tinged the dark, wavy hair did not age him at all. He was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. Each year the strong, well-bred face, the fine, clear eyes grew even more appealing.
That evening Graham seemed to be observing her in a new way, seemingly confirming her conviction that he loved her.
At last the evening came to an end. The thought that soon she and Graham would be alone made even her parting thanks and good-nights to each guest warmer than usual.
“May I come tomorrow so we can speak in private?” Jamison whispered as he clasped her hand before he left with the Camerons.
“Oh, yes!” agreed Avril happily, feeling sure that by the next day it would be possible to break her news to Jamison in a way that would not break his heart. How could he not rejoice in her happiness if he really cared for her?
Logan’s farewell did give her pause, though. As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, he said in a low tone, “Remember, Avril, if we do not like a storybook’s ending, we can write one of our own. There is always an alternative, even if it is bittersweet.”
She stared at him in puzzlement. “Is that some kind of riddle?”
“Just as life itself is a riddle,” he replied enigmatically.
Avril tried to brush aside Logan’s remark and shrugged.
But then he said something she could not ignore. As he pressed her hand, he murmured, “I’m always here, if you need me, Avril, remember that. Second choice does not have to mean second best.”
Then he was gone and Auntie May stepped up to embrace her.
“There has never been such a delightful party!” she declared as she kissed Avril an affectionate good-night. “And you, my dear, have never looked lovelier.” She gave her a little pat on her flushed cheek.
At last she stood on the veranda with Graham, watching the last carriage disappear down the drive.
“Well, was it a happy birthday for you, Avril?” Graham asked.
“Yes, almost perfect!” she replied. She walked over to the balustrade and leaned against it.
“Almost?” Graham asked. “Was there something … someone … missing?”
“No, not that.” She turned away, unable to see his face. “It’s not over yet. There’s something we must discuss, Graham.”
“Yes, I know,” Graham replied. His tone became crisp. “Young Buchanan cornered me early in the evening. He is anxious to have things settled between you.”
Startled by having the course of the conversation surprisingly wrested from her, Avril straightened, tensed.
Graham continued. “I told him that there were some legal matters—I was not specific—that had to be attended to regarding your future before I could consent to a formal announcement of your engagement.”
The words fell with deadly precision on Avril’s unwilling ears. At the moment she could find no words to refute the implication of his statement. This was far from the way she had planned their private conversation.
“I also told him that your happiness was my primary concern and he emphatically stated that it was also his. He has finished his law studies. His father is helping him set up practice in Pleasant Valley as well as giving him land on which to build a house—”
Finally Avril found her voice. “Wait! Stop, Graham! This is all happening too fast. You have given Jamison permission—” She broke off, took a long breath, and started again. “You are saying that you want me to accept his proposal of marriage?”
“If you love him …” Graham left unfinished the unanswered question.
Waves of emotion flowed over Avril. Should she speak now? Even as she tried to gain possession of herself, she felt dizzy and held onto the balustrade to steady herself.
“As I said, your happiness is my main concern.”
At these words Avril wondered what Graham would say or do if she told him where and with whom her true happiness lay. But his voice was grave and level as he went on.
“Once the legal matter that binds you from making any other commitment is resolved, I will want to go over with you the things you will need to know about your inheritance, your property in Natchez—and then after your betrothal, Jamison will have to be instructed, advised on how best to handle the transfer from me, as your guardian, to him, as your husband-to-be. His law training will make it easier to understand—” Graham cleared his throat, then repeated, “Again, your happiness is my primary concern.”
Avril replied coolly, “I am very touched by your concern for my happiness.”
“Your happiness has always been my concern—your welfare—has always been my concern.”
“Oh, there is no doubt of that,” she interrupted, sarcasm sharpening her words. “It made me very happy to spend so many years away at boarding school and nearly two years in Europe …” She felt rather than saw Graham stiffen. She stopped, her throat tightening, glad that the darkness hid from Graham her unshed tears. Suddenly she knew she had to escape before she broke down completely. She moved toward the front door.
“Avril, my dear,—” Graham’s voice sounded husky. “Is there something else you wished to talk to me about?’
She halted, then turned and made a gesture of dismissal. “It doesn’t matter—I think I am too tired tonight to be clear-headed about any of this. Perhaps, tomorrow—” Again the threat of tears closed off her words. “Good night, Graham.” She started inside, then called over her shoulder, “And thank you for my happy birthday.”
Her feet were like leaden weights as she mounted the stairs, clinging to the banister as she climbed, the sobs she was trying to suppress choking her. At the top she started running down the hall to reach the haven of her bedroom. There she flung herself on her knees beside her bed in despair.
All Auntie May’s warnings about eventual heartbreak had come true. She felt such a sense of hopelessness that even the healing tears would not come. She realized her helplessness in a profoundly painful awakening of reality. She might be twenty-one—an adult in every sense of the word—yet her life, her future was still being dictated as if she were a child.
Avril knew it would probably not have made any difference if she had tried to tell Graham what was in her heart tonight. It would only have humiliated her and embarrassed him, putting even more distance between them. Whatever he felt, he had decided not to tell her. Not ever. And since their relationship was no longer that of guardian and ward—they had nothing. Nothing at all.
Avril did not remember afterward how long she had remained on her knees, half-despairing, half-praying. Finally she had risen, gone over to the window, and sat there.
Moonlight flooded the room, giving her a sense of unreality. She did not feel sleepy nor especially tired. In fact, she felt more alert than she had felt earlier. There was not a sound anywhere, neither in the house nor in the garden. It was as if everything were suspended, waiting … for what, she did not know.
Avril gazed out the window and in her mind’s eye, like pages of a book turning too fast, she tried to imagine what it would be like living away from Montclair. How could she bear not to see the fields golden with daffodils in the early spring or the orchards dressed in pink “fairy lace” for one brief week in May when the trees were in bloom, or the gold, crimson, and bronze of the elms and maples along the fences in the fall?
All sorts of memories marched through her mind, bits and pieces of conversations, incidents, events small and large, all the assorted things that had made up her life since she had come to live at Montclair when she was ten. Graham was a part of every memory—the biggest part of he
r life for the past eleven years. What would it be like without him?
For now, Avril knew, if she could not be his wife, she would have to find a life, some kind of happiness without him. She would have to leave Montclair, of course.
Gradually the sky became light, the pale dawn replacing the dark night. With it came the flickering revival of hope. She had to follow the dictates of her heart.
Then she realized she had not even tried to tell Graham how she felt. Had not wished to risk his rejection. But love was a priceless gift, to be offered before it could be accepted.
This was a new day. All she could do was to be truthful with Graham. Be truthful with Jamison. If she had been mistaken, misread God’s plan for her life, then she would have to accept that and wait for Him to show her the next step she should take. She would trust and obey.
Finally Avril went to bed and slept so long and peacefully that when she finally went downstairs, she found that Graham had already left for the day.
“Did he say when he would be back?” she asked Hector as he served her breakfast.
“No, ma’m, he sho’ didn’t. He said he had to see Judge Cameron on some business matters. Doan know how long he’s likely to be.”
The “business matters” he wanted to discuss with Uncle Hugh must concern their secret marriage, Avril felt positive.
Well, no matter. Nothing could be annulled without her consent and signature, she was sure. In the meantime, before anything was definitely decided, Graham must be confronted with the truth.
Avril felt the stir of impatience. It might be hours before Graham returned. How would she pass the time until then?
That, however, did not prove a problem. That afternoon Avril had two callers. Logan came first.
He had sauntered in, unannounced, with the familiar freedom of years of friendship. Without prelude he launched right into what he’d come to say. “Father and Graham have been closeted for hours,” he told Avril. “And I have the decided feeling it has something to do with you.”