The Flame and the Flower

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  She turned and gave him an ugly look, then whirled to Brandon again and smiled sweetly. “You must stop at Oakley, darling. I had planned a nice tea for us.” She lifted sultry eyes to his. “Of course you will not disappoint me. I do insist.”

  Jeff glanced between them and saw Brandon raise an eyebrow at the woman. Smiling devilishly, the younger brother reached out and pulled Heather from behind Brandon’s back and winked at her as he spoke to Louisa.

  “Tell me, Louie, does that invitation include the rest of the Birminghams, or is it a private affair? I’m sure my sister-in-law is not anxious to be parted long from her husband.”

  Louisa’s glance at him shot daggers. “But, of course, darling,” she cooed sweetly. “You’re all invited. I’m sure the child would enjoy some nice warm milk in her condition.”

  Jeff’s grin deepened as he reached up to tease the fur of Heather’s hat with a finger. “Do you like warm milk, Mrs. Birmingham?”

  “Yes,” she replied softly, smiling up at him. His charm had already won her. “But I really do prefer tea.”

  Jeff turned to Louisa and his eyes gleamed. “I do believe tea would be more fitting after this long voyage, don’t you, my dear?”

  Louisa fixed him with a venomous glare. “Yes, of course, darling. We must do everything to please your new house guest,” she returned, emphasizing what she considered to be a temporary arrangement. “The child may have anything she desires.”

  Jeff laughed softly. “Why, dear Louie, it would seem to me that she already has everything she could desire,” he quipped.

  Louisa spun from him in a huff, and Brandon cast a warning glance to Jeff who grinned with glee and turned his back and gallantly presented his arm to Heather.

  “Come, Mrs. Birmingham,” he said. “We must be careful of your condition, and I’m sure you’ll be much more comfortable in the carriage.”

  As he cleared the way for her through the crowd he plied her with questions, using again and again the form of address that seemed to irk Louisa so.

  “Mrs. Birmingham, did you have a good voyage over? The north sea can be quite boisterous this time of year, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Birmingham?”

  Louisa trailed them, hanging on Brandon’s arm. Her eyes were narrowed and her anger seethed anew for by the time they cleared the mass of people the air was buzzing with whispered conjectures, and she knew that word would spread like wildfire of Brandon’s marriage and her thereby broken engagement.

  Brandon, who had once strutted with Louisa through this city’s streets, now found the woman’s clinging nearness burdensome and he took exception to Jeff’s open courting of his wife. But he knew his brother had heartily disapproved of Louisa as a possible sister-in-law and would play this charade to its end. He concentrated on the small, slender figure of his wife, watching her skirts swing jauntily ahead of him, and his eyes glowed.

  With great aplomb Jeff handed Heather into the carriage, and as he pointedly sat beside her, he met his brother’s aggravated gaze with a calm and deliberate stare. Brandon assisted Louisa into her seat and took the only place remaining, beside her. She immediately slid close to lean against him and rested her forearm casually on his thigh as if declaring her intimacy with this man. With lips grim in vexation, Brandon crossed his arms and sat stiffly, glancing back and forth at the pair opposite him, wishing for mercy from his brother.

  Heather looked askance to her husband’s lap and the possessive hand that had claimed it and finally raised her eyes to his face to see his reaction. Her regard was caught by Louisa and a bland smile twisted the woman’s lips.

  “Tell me, darling,” she asked coyly. “Did Brandon tell you anything about us?”

  “Yes, he did,” Heather murmured, and before she could enlarge upon the statement Louisa interrupted, raising an eyebrow mockingly.

  “But of course he didn’t tell you everything about us.” She turned to Brandon, smiling coquettishly and blinking her lashes. “Surely you didn’t tell her everything, darling. I do hope you didn’t go that far.”

  No slap on the face could have hurt so much. A sudden weight fell on Heather’s heart at this crude revelation, leaving her stunned. Her eyes dropped in bewilderment, and a thousand thoughts raced across her brain and crashed together in confusion. She had not thought of this at all—that Brandon and the woman had been lovers. No wonder he was so resentful of their marriage. And though she carried his name and his child, she was the outsider, not Louisa. Hadn’t he said before that she was just a servant in his eyes?

  She bit a trembling lip and smoothed the fur of her muff with a hand that shook, and her dejection was caught by both men. The muscles worked in Brandon’s cheek as his jaw tightened. Jeff leaned forward with a somewhat forced smile and anger showing in his eyes.

  “Regardless of what you say, my darling Louie, our Heather bears the proof of Brandon’s devotion.”

  He stared hard into the woman’s eyes, and she withdrew a bit from Brandon, slightly miffed at being so put down. Brandon remained silent, content that his brother could keep Louisa in her place.

  Laying his hand upon Heather’s, Jeff gave it a small squeeze in gentle consolation, but she looked away in perplexity to the carriage window, fighting the tears that threatened to come. She saw George approaching the carriage and somehow she managed a tremulous smile for him when he came to the door. He snatched his wool cap from his head and returned her smile.

  “Why, lordy, mum, you look grand in all your finery. You seem to make the very sun shine brighter.”

  She nodded her thanks and blessed him with a sweet look. Louisa sat back and watched them half sneeringly. She could not mistake the respect within the servant’s gaze as he looked up at his mistress, and she felt a twang of bitter jealousy that this man, so trusted and valued by Brandon, showed to Heather what he had never given to her. Now he even ignored her completely as he turned to Jeff.

  “And you, sir. You’re looking fit to fight a brace o’ wildcats.”

  Jeff grinned and gave him word for word. “Why you barnacle bottomed old sea dog, I declare you blind me with your shining head.”

  He clasped the old man’s hand heartily and with the pleasantries exchanged, the servant spoke to Brandon.

  “We have the trunks loaded on the wagon, cap’n, and Luke and Ethan want to get those mules moving before they fall asleep. With your permission, cap’n, we’d like to start.”

  Brandon nodded. “Tell James to come and we’ll be under way. We’ll be dropping Miss Wells at Oakley and possibly spending a few moments there. If you miss us continue on home.”

  “Aye, cap’n,” George replied. He gave Louisa a single passive look before stepping away.

  An elderly Negro came running back a moment later to lift the tether stone into the footboards. He mounted the seat and, clicking his tongue, roused the horses from their dozing in the warm sun and shook them into a lively trot away from the docks.

  The group within the carriage was silent. Occasional comments were made as an interesting item here and there was pointed out to Heather, and she, trying not to think at all, kept her mind occupied with studying the city as they passed through it. She was astounded by the elegance of the iron work and masonry and by the secluded estates that seemed to abound behind tall walls.

  The journey progressed to Oakley with no further bickering among the passengers, and as the carriage drew up before the plantation house, Jeff made to rise in continuation of his solicitude of Heather and met a sturdy elbow which jarred him back into the seat. Brandon rose and, taking his wife’s hand, climbed down and assisted her from the carriage. Their gaze met briefly before she glanced away, and still holding her hand, he placed it firmly within his arm and led her into the house, leaving Jeff to grudgingly help Louisa down and most reluctantly hold her elbow as they followed.

  Upon entering they found that the butler already had Heather’s coat and muff and she was being guided into the drawing room by her husband, who had placed a possess
ive hand upon her waist. With a grin Jeff joined them, leaving Louisa to be assisted by her manservant. Glaring at his back, the woman gave orders for tea and some small hors d’oeuvres to be served, then followed. Brandon had seated Heather in a corner of the settee and was close beside her with his arm behind her on the back of the sofa, leaving no room for his brother to further intervene. Jeff was anything but displeased with the situation, having succeeded in goading Brandon into providing his wife’s protection, and he stood before them exchanging idle chatter about the sea voyage.

  As she went to the bar Louisa directed a question to Brandon. “The usual, darling? I know just how you like it,” she said smugly.

  Heather folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them, not feeling particularly witty at the moment.

  Louisa sought to set the spur deeper as she prepared the drink. “You have much to learn about your husband, my dear. He’s most touchy in his tastes.” She looked pointedly at Heather. “He prefers his drinks to be blended smoothly and this takes some experience. I could teach you much about his dislikes.” She smiled knowingly. “And his pleasures.”

  Jeff joined the conversation, uninvited. “You do have much to teach, Louie darling, but nothing I would think appropriate to a young wife.”

  She glowered at him and went to give Brandon his drink, standing behind the seated couple where she could stare down at Heather without having to meet her eyes. Jeffrey replaced her at the bar and poured himself a liberal drink of bourbon from her stock.

  “It will take a great deal of experience to make your husband happy,” Louisa purred. “I know that well. Such a pity you’re so young and unknowing.”

  Brandon’s hand moved to Heather’s shoulder, and with his thumb he lightly traced her jawline and gently caressed her ear. Rather bewildered by his attentiveness to her in front of the woman, Heather lifted her eyes to his face. The soft fur of her hat brushed his hand, and he fingered it lightly. From Louisa’s viewpoint it seemed a very loving exchange. She scowled down at them, stricken with jealousy, and she longed to pull them apart. She raised her eyes to find Jeff’s gaze fixed upon her. He smiled mockingly and nodded briefly, lifting his glass as if in toast, then sipped it slowly.

  A young Negress entered whom Brandon greeted as Lulu. She served the refreshments. Louisa seated herself before them in a chair to continue her badgering and raised an eyebrow at Heather as the younger girl stirred her tea.

  “Tell me, darling, how long have you known Brandon?”

  The cup rattled on the saucer, betraying her discomposure, and Heather quickly put them down on the table beside her and folded her trembling hands in her lap. Brandon slid a large hand over hers and squeezed them reassuringly. She raised her eyes to the woman.

  “I met him the first night he was in London, Miss Wells,” she murmured.

  Louisa studied her, letting her eyelids fall lazily over her brown eyes. Her lips twisted in a shallow smile. “So soon? But of course, it must have been. How else could you be so far along with child? How long have you been married?”

  Brandon smiled slightly at his former fiancée as he moved his hand on Heather’s shoulder, drawing her closer. “Long enough, Louisa.”

  The woman glanced from one to the other and thought Heather looked a little pale. She went on, directing her questions to her.

  “But however did you meet him, darling? I would have thought it extremely difficult for a well bred English girl to meet a Yankee sea captain.” She raised an eyebrow, stressing the words “well bred” as if she really doubted the fact.

  Brandon regarded Louisa somewhat coldly for a moment, then again a small, one-sided smile appeared and he answered calmly. “Heather and I came together through the efforts of Lord Hampton, Louisa, a very good friend of my wife’s. He wanted us to meet and threatened me with dire consequences if I refused him. He is what you would call a matchmaker of sorts. Very willful old gentleman.”

  Heather turned toward Brandon. He told no lie yet made it all seem so completely proper, saving her the pain of having them know the more embarrassing facts. She smiled at him, pleased with his answer, and as if the baby realized her pleasure, it moved strongly and abruptly. Her eye widened in surprise, and she knew Brandon had felt it also when his smile broadened into a grin. He bent over her, and his lips brushed her ear, causing every nerve in her body to tingle.

  “Hearty little rascal, isn’t he, sweet?” he murmured softly.

  Louisa was upset over Brandon’s display toward his wife. “What did you say, Brandon?” she questioned in a rather demanding tone.

  “It appears, Louie,” Jeff grinned, “that it is none of our business. But I think their child approves of the match.”

  The remark was lost upon Louisa. She looked in confusion between the two men who exchanged amused glances in brotherly communication. It was not the first time their wit had flown over her head, and it maddened her to be left out, especially now when that intruding chit of a girl seemed to know what her brother-in-law meant. But she could handle her.

  “Brandon, darling, would you care for another drink?” Louisa asked.

  He declined and the woman now looked to Heather. “I hope you don’t mind if I call your husband by his given name, my dear. After all, I’ve known him so long it doesn’t seem right to call him anything else, and we were to be married—remember.”

  Heather turned her smile on Louisa, feeling some confidence now. “I see no reason why you should not remain on friendly terms with the family, Miss Wells,” she replied softly. “And please feel free to call upon us anytime you desire.”

  Jeff chuckled with delight. “Well, Louie, I do believe the girl can teach you something of the good grace of a sincere hostess. Too bad you can’t appreciate the lessons.”

  Louisa jerked upright and glared at him. “Will you please keep your dirty mouth shut and refrain from showing what a clod you are!” she spat.

  Brandon laughed softly as he caressed his wife’s shoulder. “My dear brother, you’ll be fighting for your life if you continue with this madness. Have you forgotten Louisa’s temper?”

  “No, Brandon,” Jeff grinned. “But apparently you have. If you continue fondling your wife in front of Louie, you’ll find that you’re the one clawed.”

  The older brother chuckled good naturedly and almost sorrowfully withdrew his arm from around Heather, then rose. “We really must be going, Louisa. The voyage was most tiresome for Heather, and she’s anxious to get settled. I too am eager to get home.”

  He thanked her for the refreshments and then, giving Heather his hand, assisted her from the settee as Jeff drained his glass. In the hall he helped his wife on with her coat and held her muff as she fastened the garment. Louisa watched his attentions with a sick feeling, knowing she had been preempted in this affair of the heart. She followed them out, at a loss for words to further torment the young wife.

  Brandon handed Heather into the waiting carriage and said a polite farewell as Jeff climbed in and took a seat opposite his sister-in-law, leaving the space at her side for Brandon. As the carriage rolled away Louisa stood alone upon the veranda in the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon and watched them go.

  Once upon the road, Jeff and Brandon conversed with an easy camaraderie, and it soon became apparent that these two brothers understood each other with a clarity not found in normal friendships. As the matched pair of horses clip-clopped along through the quiet afternoon, they renewed the companionship of a lifetime. Brandon pointed out to Heather a large squared stone that marked the boundary of his property, and she strained to catch some sight of the house from the carriage windows. Seeing nothing but endless forests, she drew her bewildered gaze within to find Jeff wearing an amused smile.

  “It will be some time yet before we arrive,” he informed her. “We have nearly two miles to go.”

  She turned to Brandon with blue eyes wide. “Do you mean you own all of this?” she asked, gesturing outside.

  Brandon nodded
slowly and Jeff grinned.

  “You just didn’t realize what you were letting yourself in for when you married a Birmingham, little sister.”

  Suddenly Brandon pointed. “That’s Harthaven.”

  She followed his finger, leaning against him to see, but could glimpse only a slight haze of smoke rising above the treetops some distance from the road. Above the clatter of wheels and hooves she could hear the sound of happy voices. They approached a lane lined with huge live oaks from which gray streamers of Spanish moss hung swaying. The carriage turned into the lane and she gasped, for at its far end stood a house the likes of which she had never seen before. Huge doric columns held a roof level with the tops of the oaks and supported a wide veranda for the second floor. From the center of this veranda hung the huge antlers of some great buck of the forests. Both brothers sat smiling at her astonishment, and she realized that here was the place she would raise the child she had within her and, with great hopes—many more. She leaned back, now filled with a calm contentment and a new trust in the future.

  Chapter 7

  Two small Negro children were playing in the dust in front of the house as the carriage jolted to a halt. At the first sight of Brandon’s face they scurried away, leaving a few moments of dead silence. Only an occasional sound of a voice in the distance broke the quiet. A child’s giggle was heard from the corner of the house and another came from the other end of the porch. There was a loud shhh and then a whole chorus of giggles. From the back of the house sounded a youngster’s strident voice.

  “Mister Brandon’s here! He done come home!”

  Then from an older female throat, “Lordy me! That boy’s finally got home.”

  Footsteps pounded through the house coming toward the front. Children began to filter out from every crack and from behind every bush until more than a score stood goggling at the carriage. The front door flew open and a more than ample Negress strolled onto the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She squinted into the carriage.