by Jo Goodman
Later, Shannon would have cause to wonder at the feverish certainty of his tone.
* * *
It was late in September. The weather had been kind, and the oak trees bordering the James were tenaciously clinging to their emerald-green leaves. The folly’s most important crop had been cured and tightly packed in thousands of hogshead barrels, forty-eight inches high, thirty across the head, and rolled to the wharf, where they were loaded on ships bound for England. There were still pumpkins and squash and late summer corn to be harvested, pickling and preserving to be done, but the main work had been completed, and the folly and its inhabitants were lulled into an untroubled existence.
It was into this quiet that Cody’s mount tore across the empty fields, crossing the distance from the far road to the house in record time. Leaping down from his lathered horse, Cody swatted its rump and sent it to the stables where it would be cared for. He negotiated the three steps leading to the folly’s front porch in one stride and threw open the door. Martha was coming down the stairs, but she stopped, hands on her hips, when Cody charged into the house.
“Chile! I don’t know what you think you—”
“Scold me later, Martha,” he said breathlessly. “Where’s Brandon?”
“Now, don’t you be—”
Cody flung open the door to the drawing room, glanced inside, and then yanked it shut. “Where’s Brandon?” he demanded again.
“He’s on the verandah with Miss Clara and—” She threw up her hands as Cody fled down the hallway. “Lord,” she said softly, shaking her head from side to side. “Sometimes I’d like to shake that boy.”
Cody nearly unhinged the door when he threw it open. “Bran! I need to see you!” And when his brother only glanced up from his cards. “Now!”
Brandon gave a start at Cody’s tone. “Alone?” he asked. When Cody nodded impatiently, he folded his hand and slid it in Shannon’s direction. “Excuse me.”
“Of course,” said Shannon, nonplussed by the urgency in Cody’s voice and stance. She felt Clara growing restless in her lap. As Brandon and Cody retreated into the house, she picked up Brandon’s cards and fanned them open in front of Clara. “Oh, look, we could have won!”
Brandon followed Cody into the library, shutting the door behind him. “What’s this about, Cody?” he asked brusquely.
Cody turned on his brother, running a hand through his windblown hair. “She’s coming, Bran. I wanted to warn you, give you time to prepare Shannon and Clara.”
Brandon had no need to ask who “she” was. “All right,” he said, forcing calm. “Where did you hear this? Who told you?”
“No one told me,” Cody said. “I saw her! I was riding along the bank a few miles downriver from here when I saw her at the rail of the Isidore. She’s coming here, Bran. I know it! Damn her eyes! I swear if I had my musket, I’d have fired.”
“Cody! Enough.” His smile held bitter humor. “You should have not persuaded me to let you stay away from William and Mary.”
Cody’s blue eyes widened. “How can you make light now?”
“How can I not? There will be little enough humor once the Isidore docks.” He grimaced. “How much time do we have?”
“About twenty minutes.”
Brandon’s forehead creased in concentration. “All right. Go to the wharf and meet her. Have Jemmy and Tom take her baggage. I’ll tell Martha to ready her room, then I’ll prepare Clara and Shannon.” As Cody started to leave, Brandon reached for him, placing a hand on his arm. “Is he with her? Did you see Parker?”
“I didn’t see him.”
“I won’t have him here, Cody,” Brandon said. “I want you to know that because he’s your brother, too. If he steps foot on this land, I’ll put the barrel of my rifle against his gut.”
“I’ll load it for you,” Cody said on his way out the door.
Brandon found Martha in the kitchen and quickly explained the problem to her. “I don’t know how long she’ll be staying,” he said when Martha began shaking her head and clicking her tongue. “Go on.” He gave her stiff shoulders a little push toward the hallway. “And Martha,” he added, “lock the door between our rooms and give me the key.”
When Martha had gone, Brandon went out to the verandah and asked Clara and Shannon to join him in the library. Because of the limited time he had to explain the situation, he spoke directly to Clara, holding her on his lap while Shannon sat in a nearby chair.
It did not go well. Clara, whose frantic search for her mother had led Brandon to Shannon, had changed her mind about wanting her mother back. She expressed her unhappiness immediately, calling Shannon her new mama, proving to both the adults that she had never really thought of Shannon as anything else. Brandon looked helplessly at Shannon.
“I’ll take her to the nursery,” she said. She lifted Clara in her arms and the child clung to her neck, sobbing against her shoulder. Shannon placed her hand on Clara’s head, smoothing her bright orange curls. “She’ll be fine, Brandon. She’s just confused.”
He nodded wearily. “Will you join us at dinner?”
Shannon gave a small negative shake of her head. “I think I’ll have my meal with Clara in her room. This first night you will need the time with your wife.” She left before Brandon could argue.
* * *
Cody held out his hand to assist Aurora as she alighted from the gangboard. He could see she had been crying. Her thick lashes were still spiky with tears, her lids puffy. In spite of the weeping she had done, or perhaps because of it, her eyes were luminous.
Aurora gave Cody a watery smile. “Faith, Cody!” she laughed, trying for lightness and failing. Her beautiful features still reflected pain. “I didn’t think anyone would meet me. I never knew I was expected.”
Cody bit his tongue to keep from saying that she was as welcome as the plague. “I saw you on the ship a few miles from here,” he said coolly. “Is Parker with you?”
Aurora’s mouth trembled, and tears, held back for a moment, reappeared in her eyes. Her slender hand rested heavily on Cody’s arm for support, and her shoulders drooped slightly. “He threw me out, Cody,” she said quietly. “Your brother told me to leave.”
“Came to his senses, did he?”
Aurora’s hand dropped as if scalded. Her voice was tremulous. “You beast! Why must you take his side? Why must you Flemings always pull against outsiders?”
“Cut line, Rory,” he said tiredly. He pointed to the baggage that was being unloaded on the landing. “Are those all of your trunks?”
“Yes, everything I own.”
Not everything, he thought, directing the trunks to be taken to the house. He remembered the clothes she had left behind, the ones that she thought too plain and dull for the mistress of the folly. “Let’s go, Rory. Brandon’s waiting for—”
But Aurora had already seen Brandon coming down the path. Her lavender taffeta skirt rustled as she lifted it above her ankles and began running toward her husband.
Cody lagged behind, raising his face to the cloudless azure sky, and sought a higher guidance for protection from the storm that had just descended on the folly.
Chapter 11
Aurora clutched Brandon’s shoulders, clinging and sobbing into his chest even when he tried to detach her. It was as if the last of her control had snapped. Her body trembled against the entire length of his. “Oh, Brandon! I’m sorry…so terribly sorry!”
When Brandon realized Aurora would not be moved, he let his hands fall from her waist. His fingers curled into loose fists at his sides. “You’re sorry about what, Aurora?” he asked with a patience he did not feel.
“Don’t be mean, Bran,” she said shakily, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. “You were right about Parker. How I wished I had listened to you.” Her fingers slid along his collar and held the lapels of his jacket as she took a step backward, raising her tearstained face to him. “He used me, Bran, just as you said he would. Used me to get back at you.” Her face crump
led. “I don’t have anywhere to go. He’s sent me away.”
“‘Came to his senses,’ I told her,” said Cody as he passed Brandon and Aurora on the path. He kept on walking.
Aurora stamped her foot, releasing Brandon. “He hasn’t changed. He still hates me.”
Brandon ignored that. He gripped Aurora’s wrists, removed them from his coat, and dropped them. “Why have you come, Aurora?”
Her eyes widened beseechingly. “Don’t look at me that way.”
The hard light in Brandon’s eyes did not change. “Aurora.”
“He sent me away,” she whispered. “I told you…he never really wanted me. It was always you, a way to hurt you. I didn’t understand…” Her eyes dropped to the ground and she spoke quietly, hurt and humiliation rife in her shaking voice. “Not until I received your letter. He didn’t want me anymore, not when he realized you didn’t either. We argued…I thought he would help me. He said he had a plan…” She looked at Brandon again. “Oh, it doesn’t matter now. His promises were for nothing. He could not rid himself of me quickly enough. I don’t want a divorce. Please don’t do this to us. I can change, Bran,” she said earnestly. “I know I can be the wife you want if you’ll let me.”
Brandon’s mouth hardened as a muscle worked in his cheek. “This is not the place to discuss this matter. We’ll speak of it later,” he said. “Come, let’s go in the house. Martha’s prepared your room. You probably want to rest after your journey.” His tone strongly suggested that she would be wise to retire to her chamber.
Aurora meekly followed her husband into the folly.
Cody handed his brother a tumbler of Scotch as Brandon walked into the library. His own glass was nearly drained. “Do you believe her?” he asked without preamble, searching Brandon’s face.
“What?” he asked, distracted by the focus of his own thoughts. He forced himself to concentrate. “Oh. I don’t know. I suppose I should have known that Parker would send her packing.”
“Yes,” agreed Cody, slumping into a wing chair. “It’s precisely what he would do when he knew you wanted to divorce her. What are you going to do?”
Brandon took a swallow of his drink, made a face as he realized he didn’t really want it, and set it down. “I intend to get my divorce, Cody. I do not believe I require Aurora’s consent, and her protests will not touch me. I wrote to her out of courtesy and waited for her reply out of respect to those few feelings she had. Now that I know her answer, there is no need to wait any longer. I’m going to Williamsburg at week’s end and speak to Thomas Maine. He will know what is to be done.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime she may remain here, though I will try to dissuade her. Her parents will welcome her. She has abandoned most of her pride by coming here; she can finish by going home to them.”
* * *
Brandon and Aurora ate their evening meal alone in the large formal dining room. Cody preferred the company of the servants in the kitchen, and Shannon and Clara were served in the nursery. Neither Brandon nor his wife did justice to the meal Martha laid before them. Turtle soup, oysters, shad, sweetly buttered corn, and honey cakes were for the most part uneaten. Conversation lulled, as Brandon hoped it would, because of the long table separating them.
Aurora refused the sweetmeats she was offered with a small negative shake of her head, staring miserably at her plate. Martha merely snorted and placed the tray in front of Brandon. She left the room, her back stiff with resentment that Miz Rory had come to the folly.
“They all hate me, don’t they?” she murmured. “Cody. Martha. Even Clara. She hasn’t made the least attempt to see me.”
“She is with her governess in the nursery,” Brandon told her.
“Her governess? When did this come about?”
“Some months after you left me,” he said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me you don’t know anything about Shannon Kilmartin? I am finding that difficult to believe.”
Aurora frowned, looking down the long table in bewilderment. “I don’t understand. What is it that I’m supposed to know?” When skepticism continued to pull at the corner of Brandon’s mouth, Aurora stood and braced her arms on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Nothing will come of that look, Bran, for I have not the least idea what you are talking about,” she said, her spirit returning as she defended herself. “I know I have given you reason to doubt my word.” She ignored the derisive toss of his head. “How is it that I should know of Clara’s governess? I have left Belletraine only rarely, been visited not at all, and heard nothing of the folly this last year. And more to the point, why do I have the impression it is important to you? Have you a mistress, Brandon? Is it the governess? Is this what this is about?”
“Sit down, Aurora.” He watched her hesitate, then sit slowly, rather like a balloon being deflated. “Why have you come here now? I wrote you of my intentions more than a month ago. It would seem that Parker should have discarded you then.”
“He did,” she said. “Oh, not immediately. At first I thought it would not matter to him, and later, when I realized he would want none of me if you divorced me, I threw myself at him shamelessly, hoping he could stop you or promise to marry me. In the end he did neither.” Her voice shook and her eyes glazed with pain. “I will not insult your intelligence by saying I cared nothing for Parker. I loved him, Brandon. I begged him to let me stay, and he refused me.”
“And so you have decided that you want me now? Your nerve is not to be believed, Rory. You left me and abandoned your child. This break with Parker has cut your pride, and that is all that has been affected. If you genuinely loved him, then I am sorry for you, but not enough that it will sway me from my decision.”
Aurora’s face was ashen and she choked off the sob that rose in her breast. “No, Brandon! Oh God, please don’t do this! Is there no way I can make amends?”
Brandon watched as Aurora seemed to shatter in front of his eyes. She was like a child, vulnerable, lost, unable to acknowledge that the consequences were born of her actions.
“What is to become of me?” she said piteously.
Brandon hardened his heart. “As to that, I cannot say.” He hesitated slightly. “You can go to your parents, Aurora. They will have you, scandal or no.”
She shrank into her chair, closing her eyes briefly. The corners of her mouth were engraved with pain. “They know?”
“Yes. They visited last month. I told them I was going to divorce you.”
“Oh God,” she said softly. “I can’t go to them, Brandon. I can’t. I have caused them so much grief…and…” She paused. Her confession was made breathlessly, as if torn from her. “They are not my parents. I…they took me from my mother, who did not want her bastard.”
“You know?”
Aurora heard the inflection in his voice and realized that he was not surprised by what she said, but rather surprised that she said it. “You know?”
“Yes. Only recently. Paul told me.”
“But why? Why would they tell you and never me? I had to learn of it by accident.”
“So you did overhear their argument.”
“You know of that, too?”
He nodded. “Again, only recently. There were reasons why they thought it imperative to tell me the truth.”
Aurora rose from her chair and skirted the table, coming to stand near Brandon. “What reasons?”
“They met Clara’s governess,” he explained. “She is your sister, Aurora. Your twin sister.” He leaped to his feet, catching his wife a moment before she collapsed in a dead faint.
* * *
“I want to meet her,” Aurora said dully. She was lying on the chaise in the drawing room where Brandon had taken her, pressing a cool compress to her forehead.
“Tomorrow is soon enough.”
“No.” She sat up, found the movement too much for her, and weakly lay back down. “Please, let me meet her tonight.” She thought about her request for a
moment. “Or is it that she wants nothing to do with me? Have you turned her against me, Bran?” Without waiting for his reply, she went on. “How did she come to be here?”
“That is for her to tell you—on the morrow.” He stepped away from the chaise. “I will have one of the servants take you to your chamber. You are understandably overwrought. I bid you good night.” Brandon left the room and went straight for the nursery. Clara, exhausted from a recent bout of crying, was asleep in her bed. Shannon sat in a rocker she had moved close to the bed and was making a sketch in the allybet book.
She put the book aside when Brandon entered. “I can see in your face that it did not go well,” she said.
Brandon briefly described his meeting with Aurora, their dinner, and its aftermath. “I want you to tell her that you came here to find her, that you always knew of her existence,” he said. “You can say that you learned of the Marchands from your father and—” He stopped because Shannon was shaking her head and looking at him sadly.
“No, Brandon. Even if it were possible that she would never learn the truth, I could not do it. You have taught me not to be afraid, and I am not. Do not be afraid for me. I will tell my sister the truth—all but the fact that we met at Glen Eden and we love each other now. In spite of what you say she is, I think that would hurt her deeply. It would seem that Parker’s rejection has already crushed her. I would not add another burden.”
“And the things your stepfather did to you?” he asked, thinking Shannon was being too considerate of Aurora’s feelings. “You will tell her that also?”
“No,” she admitted. “I cannot speak of him, not in that way. I will say what you and the earl have oft wanted to make me believe: that it was an accident.”
Brandon released a breath he had not realized he was holding, relieved by her decision to keep some things to herself. “Good. I cannot say what Aurora would do if she knew everything.”
Shannon caught her lower lip in her teeth. “While she remains at the folly…I cannot…” She stared at him, pleading for his understanding.