by Jo Goodman
Noah rolled his eyes. "Can you imagine what it would be like if I hinted anything to them? I may as well publish the proceedings in the Gazette."
Jessa laughed. "You do them a disservice. They would be discreet."
"Jessa! You met Rae. Discretion is not among her virtues. Speaking her mind is."
"Oh, very well," she said, giving in. "I only took their side because they're not here to state it for themselves."
"I'll be sure to tell them that when I write," he said dryly. "Anyway, the agreement is for the length of the convention, which looks to be months rather than weeks, and we are not committed to silence after that. Not a man among us would have agreed to such a thing. It violates the principles we hold most dear. Even now our agreement carries no force of law. It wouldn't be treasonous to speak of what we do, but neither would it be in the best interest of what we're trying to accomplish."
Jessa held up her hands as if in surrender. "You've made your point beautifully. If this is how you speak in the debates then I'm sure you will have no difficulty drawing others to your views."
"Hah! If only it were so simple as that. There are many men more eloquent than I with convictions just as strong." He rose from the rocker, kissed her cheek, and relieved her of the empty tray. "But I appreciate your confidence." He was warmed by her pleased smile. "I'll send Cam up with the water. You probably already know there's a tub in the dressing room. I think a leisurely bath is in order and then sleep. Don't wait up for me. I have no idea how long I'll be with Hilary. I shouldn't like to be there above an hour, but I'm not making promises."
"I understand," she said gravely.
Noah gave her a brief, encouraging smile and left the room. The night was warm and balmy, and Noah chose to walk to Hilary's. His shoulders were hunched, his head lowered, as he tested the tone of certain phrases in his mind. He was so deeply in thought he didn't hear Ben Franklin call to him as he passed his house. He deliberately hurried past the taverns where he knew he might see some of the delegates. His steps slowed after he walked by Christ Church and turned the corner onto Arch Street. When Noah realized he was only delaying the inevitable he quickened his pace until he stood squarely in front of the Bowen House. Raising his hand, he loudly rapped the heavy brass knocker against the door.
He was shown to the drawing room on the second floor where, as the doorman informed him, Miss Bowen was in expectation of his arrival. Noah would have chosen a less grand place to make his announcement, somewhere less formal and spacious than the room Hilary and her father used for entertaining large numbers of dinner guests. As Hilary drew him into the room and the doors closed behind him, Noah saw they were reflected in the half dozen gilded mirrors which decorated the walls. Noah had never given much thought to those mirrors before, but now their heavily scrolled borders seemed ostentatious, their very presence a sign of vanity.
Hilary caught Noah's gaze in one of the mirrors. She smiled at him. "We're striking together, aren't we? Everyone says so."
The comment startled Noah. It had never occurred to him that Hilary might see him as some sort of complementary bookend. "Do they? How odd of them."
Hilary pushed out her lower lip in a beautiful pout as she turned in his arm. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"
Noah placed a perfunctory kiss on her cheek.
"Noah! Is that the best you can do after being gone all these long months?" She leaned into him and raised her mouth to his.
Shaking his head, Noah grasped her elbows and took a half step backward. "No, Hilary. I have something to say and I want you to hear me out."
"What is it?" she asked, searching his face, uncertain for the first time in their two year courtship.
"May we sit down?"
Frowning now, Hilary pointed out a chair near the barren fireplace. "Would you like something to eat? I have sweetmeats and tarts." She started for the silver salver ladened with fresh pastries. "I thought it was safe to assume you ate dinner at home, what with Sally being back in your employ, but I know how you like desserts. I had Mrs. Corning make these especially for you."
Actually, Noah didn't like desserts. Hilary assumed that he did because of some idle comment delivered long ago. It had always seemed like such a small thing; he had never bothered to correct her assumption. Now it struck him that he had been dishonest. "Nothing for me, Hilary. I'm not hungry."
Hilary set the tray down again and nervously smoothed the folds of her lavender taffeta gown. "Did you just arrive in the country today?" she asked striving for calm.
"No. I arrived in the city today. I spent two days at the landing before I came here."
He knew, she thought. He knew about Salem or Jericho. Perhaps both. That's why he was acting so strangely. Someone in his family had said something to him, poisoning his mind against her. Oddly, the realization lifted Hilary's spirits. This was a matter she could handle. She felt a measure of calm returning. "Tea, then?"
"No, thank you. Nothing for me. Will you please come and sit down?"
"You're so serious this evening," she said lightly, trying to coax a smile to his lips. "Such gravity doesn't suit you, Noah." She sat opposite him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Papa has retired to his room for the evening so you mustn't think that he'll interrupt us as he has in the past. Of course, we are engaged, and I'm past the first bloom of youth, when one must accept the chilling eyes of chaperones."
Noah knew precisely the response she was seeking, and dutifully he gave it to her. "You're looking lovely as ever, Hilary." And she was. The choker of pearls she wore emphasized the slim length of her neck. Her ebony hair was coiled becomingly at the back of her head and several dark ringlets brushed her ears as she tilted her head. It occurred to him the only jewelry Jessa had was stolen, and that her soft, fine hair would never obey the dictates of fashion.
"Then perhaps I have a need of a chaperone after all," she said lightly.
"That won't be necessary," Noah said. This was the side of Hilary she did not present publicly, the side of her that was slightly flirtatious and coy. Noah used to find it amusing that she reserved this part of herself for him alone. Her passion was a secret they shared. He had liked it that way. There was something powerfully fascinating in the contrast between Hilary's public reserve and her private passion. "I understand you visited my home today," he said.
"Oh, so she did tell you I came by. I was concerned that she wouldn't. But I suppose you saw the basket of fruit and wondered about it. Did she tell you I sent it?"
"Actually, I didn't know about the fruit. But it was kind of you."
Hilary stiffened. "You didn't see it? What did she do with it?"
"I couldn't say. And the fruit is not the issue here."
"I should think not. The issue is that woman's rudeness. I don't know what she told you, but her manner was wholly insolent. I paid a call at your home to welcome you. She informed me that you were at the State House—we can speak of that later—then she left me cooling my heels in the entrance hall while she ran after her sobbing child. I'm afraid I was curious so I followed her. Oh, Noah! You can't imagine my thoughts when I saw how she had abused your beautiful furniture! I know you must have your reasons for hiring her, but I wish that you had written to me of your intent. She is totally unsuitable. I would be reluctant to have her working for us after we're married."
"You would?" Noah asked casually, permitting himself to be diverted from his main concern.
"Certainly I would. I'm not suggesting that we let her go without making some arrangement for her future. Perhaps her husband can find other employment first and then she can follow."
"Her husband doesn't work for me."
Hilary's brows raised slightly. "I hadn't realized that. I thought he must have been somewhere about. She's married, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"And her husband's working here in the city?"
"Yes."
Hilary's head bobbed once as if the matter were settled. "Then there is no problem. You can di
smiss her at once. There's no reason she should be working for you, not with her unpleasant demeanor, and not with a child underfoot."
"It's not so simple as that Hilary, but I take responsibility for approaching this matter in a backward fashion. You mistook Jessa's position in my household. She is not an employee. She is my wife."
Color flooded Hilary's face. Gradually it receded, leaving her complexion pasty white. "That is a cruel jest Noah," she said finally. "I cannot help but think less of you for—"
"It's no jest," he said gravely. "I deeply regret having injured you in this reprehensible manner, Hilary. It is beyond the bounds of forgiveness. I came tonight because it is only right that you should hear it from me and no one else."
Hilary's hands unlocked. Like talons her fingers spread and curved as she grasped the arms of her chair. Her knuckles were bloodless, her skin like veined marble. She was perched on the edge of the chair, a cold stony figure more reminiscent of medieval demons than anything human. "You bastard," she said tightly. "You great bloody bastard!" She rose from her seat slowly, crossed the distance between herself and Noah in carefully measured steps, and slapped him with all her considerable strength across his left cheek.
Noah was prepared for the blow and he accepted it without flinching. Only when Hilary backed away, gripping the folds of her wide skirt to keep her hands still, did he allow himself to relax. "Do you wish me to leave?" he asked.
Hilary's hip bumped the edge of a table. An oil lamp teetered. She managed to still it before it toppled. This small action, the normalcy of it, rooted her in reality again. "No," she said, crossing her arms in front of her to quiet their trembling. "No. You owe me more than what you've given me. I deserve and demand an explanation." Her bottom lip quavered slightly. "How could you do this to me, Noah?" she asked plaintively.
"I'm sorry, Hilary." The inadequacy of the words struck him on the raw, and he knew they did nothing to salve her wounds. "I fell in love."
She sucked in her breath. "You said you were in love with me!"
"I thought I was," he said, meeting her fiery eyes directly. "Jessa made me realize otherwise."
"Is it because you made her pregnant? Is that it?"
Hilary demanded, grasping at straws. "If you married her out of some gallant sense of obligation I can accept that," she went on quickly. "In time you can divorce her and we can still be married. We can weather the scandal. I'm willing to do that for you!"
"Then you should know I am unwilling. I love my wife, Hilary. I have no intention of divorcing her. Also, I am not Gideon's father. He is Jessa's child and I love him like a son, but he is not mine."
"You're going to accept someone's bastard child as your own?" she asked disbelievingly.
"Gideon is no one's bastard, Hilary," Noah said with more calm than he was feeling. "His parents were married."
Hilary turned away, clutching the table for support. "I cannot credit what you're telling me," she said lowly, her head bowed. "Why didn't you write? Why did you marry her there? Couldn't you have waited until you returned, shown me the civil courtesy of speaking with me first?"
"I didn't write because I thought it was an unacceptable means of communicating my intentions. In any event the letter would not have reached you much before I arrived. Jessa and I were married very near the end of my visit to England, and no, I could not have waited to speak with you first."
Hilary spun around. "What you mean is that you were sniffing after her skirts! I salute the chit for demanding marriage before she allowed you to spread her legs! I should have been so uncompromising!" Her midnight blue eyes glittered coldly when Noah remained silent. "Well? Have you nothing to say?"
"I didn't believe your remarks deserved a response," he said evenly, "but if you insist, I will remind you that at no time did I ask you for something you were unwilling to give. More to the point, I don't remember asking on the first occasion. You were flatteringly eager to be intimate with me and you were not without experience."
Noah regretted having said that last as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He had not come to pitch stones at Hilary, yet that was precisely what he had done.
Her cheeks flushed and her indrawn breath hissed. "Damn you! How dare you say that to me now! No, you weren't my first lover! Or my second. Or even my third! Shall I tell you about my lovers?"
Noah forced himself to look at her though her pain cut through him. "Don't do this to yourself, Hilary. You don't have to make explanations to me. If you think for a moment you'll realize I cared nothing about men you had known before me."
"And you think that's flattering?" she asked, her voice rising.
Pressing one hand to his forehead, Noah released his breath slowly. "I put that very badly." But there was some truth in what he said, he realized unhappily, just as Hilary had divined. He had never been jealous enough to ask about her former relationships. "I meant that what happened before you met me was placed properly in the past It had nothing to do with us. I asked you to marry me before I went to England, more than seven months ago." Belatedly he wondered if Hilary had heard him. She had gone to the window facing the street and was staring vacantly into the night. The lamplight below threw her beautiful profile into stark relief.
"Ah, yes," she said tonelessly, once more under control. "Your marriage proposal. How clever you were to make the offer before you went to England. A wedding trip, you said. Yet you knew full well that I would not take such a voyage."
Had he been clever? he wondered. Had he known even then, in some secret part of him, that he shouldn't marry Hilary, that he didn't love her enough? "I would have wed you before I left." That was true. He would have married her if she had agreed. It also would have been a grave mistake. He realized that now.
"So you said," she answered, implying she believed otherwise. "Since I refused we'll never know, will we?" Her short laugh held no humor. "I spent these months planning our wedding." She turned to face him. "I can't even tell people I broke with you before you left for London. It would be such a patent lie that I would seem more of a fool than you've already made me."
There was nothing Noah could say. He remained silent.
"Shall I tell you why I wouldn't go to England with you?"
"You've never made it any secret that you dislike the British."
"That's true, but you don't know why."
Noah wondered why she was addressing this now. He felt compelled to listen to her because it was all he had to offer. "I don't? You always said it was because your brother was killed at Yorktown."
"Yes, that's what I've said. And I've always been amazed that people accepted it so easily." She sneered. "You included. Evan and I were never even particularly close. We had one thing in common though. We were our father's pawns and during the war Papa played his pieces well."
"Hilary," he said gently. "Are you sure you want to go on?"
"Very sure," she answered. She returned to the table where the pastries were laid out. Smiling, she poured herself a cup of tea and added a dollop of sweet cream and sugar. "Tea makes it all seem very civil, doesn't it?" she asked, taking the chair opposite Noah once more. "I remember serving many cups of tea during the war," she continued quietly. "I was seventeen, no, I'm sorry, I was eighteen when British troops occupied the city. In general, the redcoats made their quarters where they pleased, but in some homes, like this one, they were welcome. Did you know that? Papa welcomed them in our house. You and I didn't know one another then, but I know where you were during that winter. Valley Forge. You see, Evan was there also. That's what I meant about Papa playing his pawns. Evan was his patriot. I was his Tory. Papa claimed to the British that he had disowned his son, that Evan was an irresponsible ruffian. To his revolutionary friends he said the British were quartered in his house against his will and that Evan was acting on principles he had learned at home."
Hilary sipped her lukewarm tea, her hands shaking ever so slightly. "In the midst of war Papa had found a way to show favor to bo
th sides. No matter what the outcome, Papa believed he was safe from reprisal. He lost his son, of course, and I was... ," she shrugged with a forced air of indifference, "...and I was raped. But those were reprisals Papa could learn to live with. He still had his bank, his friends, his home... his slightly soiled daughter."
"Oh Jesus, Hilary," Noah said softly. "I don't—"
The dainty china teacup clattered against the saucer as Hilary set it in place. "Let me finish, Noah. And then I want you to leave."
He nodded, his eyes pained.
"All during that winter, while Evan was wondering where his next meal would come from, wondering whether his uniform would withstand the bitter cold, I played hostess to well-fed, warmly clothed British officers. It seemed ironic to me even then that the roles Papa forced on Evan and me suited neither one of us. I believed in the cause Evan would eventually die for. Evan never stopped hoping for eventual reconciliation with England. But gender, not ideology, determined our fates.
"Papa said I should be pleasant to the soldiers. He would later say, after the rape, that I was too pleasant, that I encouraged their attention in an unseemly manner. It had to be thus, he said. Why else would it happen not once, but twice? Two different men on two separate occasions."
Noah dosed his eyes briefly. "Were the soldiers—"
"Punished? No. Papa asked me not to speak of it to anyone. And I haven't... until now." She set her cup and saucer on the nearby table. "I wanted you to know about those lovers, Noah, because I want you to understand how deeply I despise the British. Unreasonable, perhaps, to hold an entire people responsible for the vile acts by two of their red-breasted representatives, but that is my feeling, and nothing will change it." Hilary's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "There were other men after the war, but I was not an indiscriminate whore. Far from it. I earned and deserved my reputation as a snow queen. I relished it." The corners of her mouth lifted. Her smile was malevolent. "And occasionally I was able to have my revenge as well. Do you know that I took your brother Salem and your brother-in-law Jericho as my lovers?"