Violet Fire

by Jo Goodman

  “I know. I would not ask it of you.” He took her by her beautifully shaped hands and pulled her to her feet, enclosing her in an embrace that was too brief and too desperate. “We’ll go on as we did before we understood the truth of our feelings.” He set her away and smiled faintly. “I shall be Mr. Fleming, and you shall be Clara’s governess.”

  * * *

  “It’s absurd, Brandon!” Aurora said, her glance darting between her husband and Shannon. “She cannot remain as Clara’s governess! She is my sister! Oh, it was all very well before you knew the truth, but surely you cannot expect me to countenance my own sister as a servant.”

  “I am not made to feel a servant, Aurora,” Shannon put in. She was emotionally exhausted from her interview with her sister and wished that she might reach out to Brandon and allow herself the comfort of his embrace. Aurora’s questions had seemed as if they would go on forever. She wanted to know everything about their mother and about the sort of person Thomas Stewart had been. She expressed horror, tears glistening in her eyes, when Shannon had told of the accident, the trial, and her voyage to the colonies. Aurora probed for details that Shannon would have rather left unsaid, but she did it in such a way that Shannon found herself answering helplessly, as if she had no control over her tongue. Now that it was over, Shannon felt bruised and weary, desiring nothing more than to retire to her room and stay there an age.

  “Of course you’re not,” Aurora replied, patting Shannon’s hand. “But nevertheless, that is what you are, or what you have been. It is simply not to be borne.”

  “But what would I do?” asked Shannon. “I like being with Clara.”

  Brandon raised his hand to halt the discussion. “We will leave it to Miss Kilmartin, Aurora. It is her choice.”

  “All right, but really, Brandon, you sound too silly calling her Miss Kilmartin in that stiff voice of yours. You must call her Shannon.” She turned to her sister. “Mustn’t he?”

  “That would be fine,” Shannon answered, keeping her face averted from Brandon.

  “Then it’s settled.” Aurora studied Shannon’s face closely before she turned to her husband. “Bran, how could you have ever mistaken her for me? The similarities are striking, but surely you can see the differences?”

  Indeed he could, he thought, but like Paul Marchand, he believed they were mostly differences of the heart. Aurora, however, was speaking of the subtle physical differences that were noticeable when the sisters were together. Shannon stood perhaps a half-inch taller than Aurora; her eyes were a shade darker. The bridge of Aurora’s pared nose was sharper, the thrust of her chin more defined. Shannon’s complexion was not as fair as her sister’s, but that was a result of her penchant for being out of doors without any head covering. Her cheeks held color that could not be matched by any artifice, and beneath the prim neckline of her blue linen gown, Brandon knew precisely how milk-white her skin really was.

  “I can see them now” was all Brandon would comment on Aurora’s observation.

  “Well, I am glad for that. It would not serve for you to confuse us now.”

  “No. That would not do at all.”

  Shannon heard the ironic inflection in Brandon’s tone and sought to make her escape before Aurora understood its meaning. She stood, excusing herself with the pretext that she had promised Clara they would visit Rainbow in the stables.

  When Shannon was gone, Aurora poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it thoughtfully. “She’s quite conscientious, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, I believe she cares for Clara.”

  “You think I don’t?”

  Brandon sighed, wishing he had not given his wife that opening. “In your own way, Rory, I think you wish the best for our daughter.”

  “I certainly do,” she said. “Have you given any thought as to how the divorce will affect her in the years to come? She will be touched by the scandal of it.”

  “Of course I have thought of it, but the most difficult time for her was when you left.”

  Aurora set her tea aside. Her eyes brightened with unshed tears. “It is a measure of the love I bear my daughter that I did not take her with me.”

  “Precisely what do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, Bran,” she said tiredly, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “Must you question everything I say, searching my motives? I meant exactly what I said. I cared too deeply for Clara to take her away from the folly. Her home is here.”

  Brandon stood. “It gives me great pleasure to hear you speak so,” he said coolly. “I admit to having some fears that you would try to take Clara from me when we are divorced. It is good to know you have her best interests at heart.” He started toward the door as Aurora buried her face in her hands and began to sob. “As you say, her home is here.”

  * * *

  Three days later, after listening to more of Aurora’s pleadings than was his wont, Brandon left the folly for the capital. He had wanted to tear himself away earlier but was afraid to abandon his position as the buffer between Aurora and everyone else. Clara was cautious of her mother, rarely leaving Shannon’s side, but even there Aurora had made some progress, taking her daughter for walks and never objecting when Clara joined them for the evening meal. Cody was immune to Aurora’s charm, and Brandon wished it were also true of Shannon. With equal parts awe and fear he watched Aurora attempt to weave her spell on her sister. Because he never saw Shannon alone, he hadn’t the least idea if his wife was successful.

  Though the question bothered him during the ride to Williamsburg, Brandon found himself in his lawyer’s home, returning Thomas Maine’s firm handshake, without any clear answer.

  “It’s good to see you, Bran. Here, take a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Scotch?”

  “No. Nothing.” Brandon sat in one of the brocade wing chairs in front of Thomas Maine’s desk, leaning back and stretching his legs. Leather bound volumes on a variety of subjects, including law, astronomy, science, and agriculture, lined one wall of the study. Through the large bay window behind the desk Brandon could see two women strolling past the cobbler’s shop and a child rolling a hoop down the pebble-paved street.

  “It’s been too long, Bran. I was beginning to think you had forgotten your friends. Dare I hope this is a friendly visit?” Thomas asked, slipping into his high-backed leather chair. He took off his spectacles, buffed them on the sleeve of his russet jacket, and replaced them, carefully fitting the curved stems around his ears. “You received your payment for the tobacco, didn’t you?”

  “Every farthing,” Brandon said, his satisfaction evident.

  “Good. I honestly don’t know how far we would have gotten with the customs men if they had reneged on their agreement. Damn hard to fight the Crown and win. So, what brings you here?”

  “A delicate matter, I’m afraid. I want to divorce my wife.”

  Thomas’s silver-tipped eyebrows lifted a good half inch above his glasses. “What? Bran, you can’t be serious.”

  “I assure you I am.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees as his fingers interlocked into one fist. “My marriage to Aurora has become untenable. It is quite impossible that we should continue as husband and wife.”

  Thomas plucked a quill from his desk and began twirling it consideringly between his thumb and forefinger. “I am aware of certain rumors regarding Mrs. Fleming, that she did indeed honor her promise to leave you for Parker Grant. Is this the action which has prompted you to see divorce?”

  “Yes.”

  “And her return to Jamestown on the Century?”

  “So you heard of that…. I had wondered if the news reached you here. That is another matter entirely, Tom, and I cannot speak of it. But I assure you it did not enter in my decision. So? Will you assist me? I know nothing of how a divorce may be accomplished.”

  “It isn’t possible.”

  Brandon wasn’t certain he had understood the lawyer’s meaning. “I know it is not an action to be taken lightly, and I have con
sidered what the scandal will mean to myself, my wife, and my daughter. But the scandal is far easier to bear than continuing a mockery of marriage. Is it your services you are withholding? If so, I can understand why you would not want to embroil yourself in the affair, and I’ll seek help elsewhere. But you must know that I do intend to seek a divorce. On this I am determined.”

  “No, you misunderstand.” Thomas dropped the quill. “I will assist you in any way I’m able, but I fear I may only be of use to you as a friend, to offer and lend my support. As a lawyer there is nothing I can do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Thomas stood and prepared himself a brandy. He turned slowly to Brandon. “I mean there is no provision in our laws which address divorce. You must apply to the church.”

  “This is a poor sort of joke, Tom.”

  “I assure you I am not joking. There are simply no legal procedures to complete a divorce.”

  “But we’re Englishmen, for God’s sake. Surely the Crown has laws which govern the event.”

  “The Crown does have laws—for Englishmen in England. The colonies, within reason, have been allowed to establish their own laws. Quite simply, Virginia has no procedure for divorcement at this time. You may leave her, she may leave you, but a legal end to the marriage? No, it cannot be done.” Tom returned to his desk, hitching one hip over the edge. “Must you have a divorce, Bran? Why not go on as you have?”

  Brandon slumped backward in his chair. “Aurora was never on the Century, and that is all I can say on the matter. She was with my brother then, but she returned recently. When I informed her what I wanted to do, Parker turned her out. She’s at the folly now, Tom, and I want her gone. I am willing to make some provisions for her, but I do not want her at the folly.”

  “Then you have but one choice that I can see, and that is to appeal to the church. It will take time, more than you would like, but it can be done.”

  “More time,” Brandon said softly, wearily. He laughed at himself. “I was so certain this could be done quickly…. Honestly, Tom, with little difficulty I could find myself an admirer of old King Henry.” He made a slashing motion with his finger across his neck. “He managed to rid himself of—” Brandon grinned crookedly when he saw his friend was unamused. “Just a bit of ill humor, I’m afraid. No need to look alarmed.”

  * * *

  It was late when Brandon finally returned to the folly. He lit a candle in the foyer and carried it upstairs, nearly groaning aloud when he saw Aurora waiting for him outside his bedchamber door. “What is it, Rory?” he asked, making little effort to disguise his impatience. His lids lowered, shuttering his eyes, as Aurora set her own candle on a hall table and leaned her back against the wall. Her breasts swelled above the deep neckline of her lawn nightdress as she sighed deeply.

  “May we talk in your room?” she asked.

  “No. Whatever you wish to say may be said here.”

  Aurora’s eyes swept over her husband consideringly. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “Yes. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m foxed,” he said brusquely. “What is it you want?”

  “I couldn’t sleep for thinking of you in town this evening,” she said softly, raising her face to him. Candlelight caressed her features, enhancing her beauty. Her mouth was slightly parted and she wet the corner of her lip with the tip of her tongue, making the action somehow tremulous and seductive in the same moment.

  “Stop it, Aurora. I’m unimpressed by your wiles. If it is my meeting with Tom you want to know about, then you only have to ask.”

  “You wrong me.” Aurora looked away, seemingly hurt by his curtness. “All right then,” she whispered. “What did you learn from Mr. Maine?”

  “I learned the law cannot help me in this matter,” he said. “I can only divorce you by speaking with the Reverend Whittaker and making an appeal through the church.” Brandon watched Aurora relax slightly, her shoulders straightening as she realized the time involved in such an appeal. “No doubt you’re relieved. You think it will take longer and I will change my mind. Well, it will take longer, but there is nothing that will sway me. And to help you understand that better, I want you to know I have already visited Reverend Whittaker.” Brandon gave the door handle a twist. “That is where I was drinking tonight.” He shouldered the door to his room and, without another glance in Aurora’s direction, went inside, kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot.

  Aurora stared at the closed door for a moment. She retraced her steps down the hallway, paused at the entrance to her own room, and then continued toward Shannon’s room adjoining the nursery. She knocked lightly several times until she heard her sister stirring.

  Shannon cracked open the door. “Yes?” When she saw Aurora standing there, clearly bereft, she felt her heart give an odd tug. She stood aside and with a wave of her hand ushered Aurora into the chamber. “What’s happened?” she asked, slipping on her dressing gown as Aurora sat on the edge of the bed.

  Aurora’s composure broke. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and her shoulders shook. “He wants to divorce me,” she sobbed. “Oh, Shannon! I have made such mistakes! I cannot bear it if he sends me away!”

  Shannon gasped, and it was the sound of it in her own ears that warned her she was not dreaming. How was she supposed to offer the comfort Aurora expected? Tears, not of sympathy, but of her own misery, sprang to her eyes. She sat at Aurora’s side, staring at her uselessly folded hands.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Aurora continued, impatiently brushing a tear away. “Everyone here hates me. There is no one who cares what happens. Did you know what he plans to do? I know Cody does. He can’t even keep a civil tongue when he speaks to me. Did you know, Shannon?”

  “I had heard,” admitted Shannon uneasily. “There are matters the servants can’t help but learn eventually.”

  Aurora nodded as if expecting Shannon’s reply. “I know. There are few secrets at the folly.” She sniffed inelegantly, rubbing the sleeve of her nightdress across her pale cheeks, then gave Shannon a watery smile as she was handed a handkerchief from Shannon’s bedside table. “You’re kind to listen to me,” she said. “I didn’t know where else to go after he came back tonight and told me….”

  “Told you.”

  “Told me that the divorce must proceed through the church. Oh, Shannon, it is too awful. When it was a legal problem, I thought to myself that no matter what he did, in my heart I would still be married to him, our vows sealed by God. But to divorce through the church? It is the dissolution of a sacrament and too horrible to contemplate.”

  Shannon was struck deeply by Aurora’s words, and guilt pressed against her chest like a weight. This was Brandon’s decision, she told herself. She had nothing to do with it. Still, the knowledge that Brandon wanted this divorce with or without her agreement to marry him did little to ease Shannon’s mind. When Aurora wearily leaned against her, Shannon accepted her sister’s bent head as it rested on her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around Aurora, stroking her back, offering support when she couldn’t offer comfort.

  “He is so cruel to me,” Aurora whispered. “So cruel. He’ll send me away and I’ll never see my daughter. He’s said as much. How am I to bear that?”

  Shannon had no response. Late into the night she listened to Aurora talk of her marriage to Brandon, her infatuation with Parker, and the foolishness of her decision to leave her husband. When Aurora finally exhausted herself, Shannon accompanied her back to her own room and helped her to bed. Shannon never slept that night. She stayed at the window in her chamber until sunrise, her thoughts as scattered as the colors of dawn.

  * * *

  Shannon happened upon Brandon in the stables the following morning. He was teasing his horse with a dried apple while it was being saddled by one of the grooms. He looked so much like a young boy, his beautiful face alight with mischief, that Shannon felt some of her resolve falter. It was when Clara dropped her hand and ran to her father that Shannon�
��s brain cleared.

  “Papa! I’ve come to see Rainbow!”

  Brandon gave the piece of apple to his mount and scooped Clara off the stable floor, tickling her. Her giggles danced over his body like droplets of spring rain. His smile faded when he saw Shannon was staring at him as if she did not know what to make of him, her expression tense, devoid of amusement or laughter. He set Clara to the ground and told her to find the kittens and play with them before going to Rainbow. When she was out of earshot, he dismissed the groom and turned to Shannon. In a few even strides he crossed the distance that separated them and took her by the hands. “What is it?” he asked, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  Shannon tore her hands from him with more force than she meant to use, giving the action a contemptuous flair she had not intended. She saw his bewilderment, his hurt, and was immediately sorry, though the words of apology stuck in her throat. “I do not think I can stay here, Brandon” was what she said. “The situation is becoming impossible. I know about the church having to sanction your divorce. I don’t—”

  “You know? How?”

  “Aurora. She came to my chamber last night after you returned. She told me. She was despondent, Brandon. There was no one she could talk to save me.”

  Brandon tore off his hat and slapped it against a wooden support angrily. “That’s because she’s made an enemy of everyone else at the folly. I should have known she would try something like this. She wanted your sympathy, didn’t she?” He held up his hand. “No, don’t bother to answer. I know that she did. I can well imagine what happened. She confided in you, telling you how terrible I am, even claiming she deserved it in part. I would wager she made quite a show of tears when she said she was miserably sorry for every hurt she ever inflicted.”

  Because Brandon’s description was so close to the reality, Shannon could only wonder how he knew. “Were you listening?” she asked.