Elizabeth Meyette - [Love's 01] (23 page)

• • •

Jonathon set sail on an errand for the Committees of Correspondence two days later with nothing resolved between him and Emily. She had moved her things into her old room and remained politely cool toward him. She did not resume calling him Captain Brentwood; she did not call him anything. She did allow Jonathon to kiss her cheek before he left.

As Emily watched him walk to his horse, she fought the urge to run and wrap her arms around him. But, though her heart ached, her pride kept her solidly in place on the steps as she blinked back the tears. Jonathon swung up onto Neptune and looked at her.

“Good-bye, Emily,” he said in a tight voice.

Emily’s throat ached, and she knew if she tried to speak, she would be unable to stop the sobs that fought for release. So she lifted a hand and waved, trying not to notice the pain in Jonathon’s eyes. He kicked Neptune into a gallop and did not look back as tears began to run down Emily’s face.

The life and vitality seemed drained out of her, and if it were not for the enjoyable distraction of helping Joanna tend Will, Emily was sure she would go mad. They sat in the garden together one fine June morning as Will slept peacefully in Joanna’s arms.

“Emily, this must be so difficult for you,” she said sympathetically.

“I feel torn, and I do not know what to do. I love Jonathon very much, but I love England. Perhaps I feel somewhat like he did — torn between the land and the sea,” she replied.

“But you changed all of that, Emily. He came to love you above all else.”

Emily looked at Joanna thoughtfully.

“It seems he loves
his
home very much. Enough to humiliate me in front of our friends.”

“Emily, stop it. He defended you. You did not hear it all — ”

“Joanna, please, do not speak of it. I am so confused. If Jonathon does love me above this patriotic furor, he must prove it to me!” she exclaimed.

“So you will play games with him? Make him dance to your tune? Is a puppet what you want, Emily? I gave you much more credit than that. It is obvious to everyone but you how much Jonathon loves you. And that is because you refuse to see it. Your pride is wounded, and now Jonathon must pay the price. Do you love him so little?”

Joanna’s words stung with their accuracy, but Emily did not care. She rose angrily.

“How can you understand? You are surrounded with lifelong friends who believe as you do. You live in a home you grew up in with your family all around you. You do not know the isolation I feel and the anger and humiliation as everyone degrades the only home I ever knew. My lifelong friends — they are the ones who will do battle against yours. And I am forced to take sides. The man I love seems to be on the other side. Tell me, Joanna, how would you feel?”

Joanna was at a loss for words as she heard the anguish pour out of the girl. She remained silent as Emily slowly walked toward the manor. For a brief moment, Joanna imagined the loneliness that entering that red brick house would bring if it belonged to others. She shivered in the sunlight, and through tear-filled eyes, bent and kissed William’s forehead.

• • •

Emily was like a walking ghost; she appeared to be in a stupor at times. At other times, a frown crossed her features as she struggled with her inner turmoil. She was most animated when she played with Will, but even then, she seemed distracted, not noticing the smiles he was beginning to bestow. She would sit by the river and watch the water flow lazily by, searching its depths for answers.

Jonathon was gone for an agonizing two months, and all the while Emily struggled with a decision she felt she must make. When his horse approached, it was with a mixture of relief and dread that she awaited him. She did not know what to say to him, and the hurt she had felt was still deep. He seemed to place Brentwood Manor, Virginia, and this rebellion far above her, and she felt betrayed. And she felt so alone.

She watched him ride up the drive, tall and lean, bronzed from the sun and wind of the voyage, incredibly handsome. His horse trotted at a fair pace, yet to Emily it seemed that he came no closer as he rode, as if he were trapped in a single spot on the lane unable to move past it. Her heart pounded in her chest and the familiar warmth that Jonathon’s presence had always elicited spread through her. Yet the hurt she had felt all this time battled for control. Her emotions roiled in a battle of love and pain that had been her existence these two months. She wanted to fly to him and feel his arms wrap around her in his familiar embrace, yet the thought of his rejecting her rooted her where she stood. Finally, he neared the porch, slowed Neptune to a walk, and stopped before her.

“Good day, Em.”

Soft and low, just the sound of his voice sent a tremor of desire through her. She was afraid to speak; afraid she would be reduced to sobs in front of him. How she had longed to see him all this time; she could not — would not — lose control of her emotions in front of him.

“Good day. I am glad you are safely returned.”

He studied her. “Are you?” He dismounted and a stable boy came to take his horse.

“I wish you no harm,” she replied defensively. Joanna came out then and, going to her brother, gave him a welcoming embrace.

“Welcome home, Jonathon,” she said. Emily silently watched the woman do and say what she should have done and said. She felt awkward, almost like an intruder. Feeling the tears filling her eyes, she turned and went inside so the others would not see her pain.

Jonathon watched Emily walk away, misreading her action for anger, or worse, indifference. He looked down at Joanna for help, but his sister merely shrugged. They headed indoors.

They had supper after sunset when the oppressive August heat had abated somewhat. To avoid contributing any more heat to the room, as few candles as possible flickered at the table casting long shadows on the papered walls. David and Jonathon carried on most of the conversation throughout the meal, discussing the progressing conflict.

“The Continental Congress has adopted the Olive Branch Petition, professing their loyalty to the king and a desire for a peaceful reconciliation. Perhaps this will all be resolved soon,” Jonathon said.

Emily looked up at him quickly. He caught her eye and gave a slight smile.

“We cannot give in, Jonathon!” David exclaimed. “Not after working so hard to make our voices heard. We cannot afford to soften.”

“No, we will not soften,” Jonathon reassured him. “Our grievances are stated quite clearly in the petition. King George must intervene with Parliament and put a stop to their oppression.”

Emily’s heart sank. The conflict continued, and who knew how long the communication to England and back would take? Or what the king’s answer would be.

“I must sail again soon. It looks as if I shall be at sea almost continuously for a while, sailing out of Yorktown.” He turned to Emily, his eyes soft. “Emily, I would like you to move to Williamsburg. I have spoken with the Cosgroves, and they would like to have you as their guest. You might find them kindred spirits for they are loyalists also,” Jonathon smiled gently. “And I would be able to see you more often.”

Emily’s heart quickened at the tenderness in his voice. “Yes, Jonathon. I shall go.”

• • •

Emily sat before the mirror in her room and brushed her hair, the golden highlights dancing in the glow from the candles. It had been awkward saying good night to Jonathon and then coming to this room. But she did not know what else to do. She had left him in the parlor with David, deep in discussion. He had not invited her back to their room; there had been no opportunity for him to do so with the others present. And she was not sure whether she would have accepted that invitation. Her pain had brought her to a difficult decision, and returning to Jonathon’s bed would make that decision even more difficult.

She looked into the mirror on her dressing table feeling an aching emptiness. The soft, fragrant breeze billowed the curtains on either side of her bed, and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply the heady scent of summer. She exhaled long and slow, her breath ruffling the lace of the nightgown that lay low across her breasts. Setting down her hairbrush, she rose and walked toward the bed. A light rap sounded on the door.

“Emily, may I come in?” Jonathon called softly.

A thrill ran through her at the sound of his voice, and she felt flushed all over. She looked around for her robe and quickly put it on. It was filmy and scant; one that Jonathon had bought her for enticement rather than modesty, but perfect for a hot summer night. She realized this too late, for she had already called, “Come in.”

Jonathon closed the door softly behind him. He stepped toward Emily and silently inhaled her beauty. Gently he raised his hand, lifted a curl from her shoulder, and placed it behind her back. Then he ran his finger lightly along her cheek, her jaw, her throat. Emily trembled beneath his touch and felt that familiar longing spread throughout her body. She closed her eyes and heard the rush of excitement pounding in her head. Suddenly his hand was gone, and she opened her eyes. Her knees shook, and she felt as if she would collapse. He turned toward the fireplace and leaned against it looking at the figurine on the mantel.

“I would like an explanation,” he stated.

“I would like an apology,” she countered.

“An apology?” he blurted out. “What in blazes have I done? It seems to me that I am the one who has been wronged.”

“You humiliated me in front of everyone! It is
your
home, you said. Shortly before that you had assured me it was
my
home, too. In fact, you asked me to make a choice between Brentwood Manor and England. And then when I call it
my
home, you contradict me and say differently. Well, forgive me for assuming too much, Captain — ” her voice had risen with her anger and hurt.

Jonathon gripped her arm tightly. “Do not
ever
call me that again!” His eyes bored into hers, angry sparks seemed to fly from them. “You are my wife, and you will act like my wife from now on. I have had enough of this silly childishness.”

Emily bristled. “Well, Deidre was right. You did tire of this
child
. Now you can return to her arms and
experience
. And she will listen to your patriotic drivel and cheer your cause with equal fervor.”

“I came here tonight to try to straighten out this mess, but I can see I shall get nowhere with you. I came to ask you to come back to our bed.” He approached her slowly, his eyes a mixture of rage and desire. “I want you so badly, I could hardly bear to look at you all through supper for fear I would take you then and there.” His fingers lightly caressed her shoulders and ran up and down her arms. “I thought we could settle this and bring back the magic that we shared.” His voice was soft and low, his breath brushing her hair. “I wondered for two months why you treated me so. I still do not understand, even with your explanation.” He placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to his.

Emily’s heart beat wildly, and the flame he had enkindled raged through her like wildfire. Her lips ached for the touch of his, her body cried out for the feel of his against her. Her taut nipples pushed against the sheer fabric of her gown.

“But I see now that I shall get nowhere with you until you decide to grow up.”

Abruptly, he released her and walked to the door. Emily grabbed for a bedpost to steady herself. He turned at the door and said over his shoulder, “Be ready to leave for Williamsburg the day after tomorrow.”

And he was gone. Moments later Emily heard hoofbeats travel down the drive. She sighed; Deidre had won.

• • •

Emily glanced around the room one last time to see if she had forgotten anything. She had lain awake the night before last listening for Jonathon’s return. But the sun rose and still she waited. She took coffee alone, purposefully waiting until David and Joanna had eaten. Then she wandered through the gardens absent-mindedly touching the blossoms that surrounded her with vivid color, not seeing their beauty, not noting their fragrance.

Dinner was strained, for no one seemed to know what to say to Emily, and their attempts at conversation with each other were feeble at best. David rose with ill-concealed relief to return to the fields. Joanna sat a little longer, but finally left to tend to William. Then Emily sat alone at the large table in the large dining room that suddenly felt cold and strange to her. Her joy at finding a new home and family was so distant at this moment that she thought she must have dreamed it. She rose and dragged herself to her room, loneliness engulfing her.

She sat in her room and stared out at the brilliant sunshine spilling across the emerald green lawns. It all blurred as tears filled her eyes and ran unchecked down her cheeks.

She sat there still when Dulcie came in to pack her things. The tears had dried, but the loneliness lingered. Emily went through the motions of making decisions regarding what clothing and toiletries to bring, but once or twice Dulcie looked at her curiously and, when Emily turned away, substituted the appropriate articles. The activity at least gave Emily something to do as the afternoon dragged on, and she was grateful for the distraction.

Supper was a little more relaxed as conversation turned to the Cosgroves and their last visit with them. Jonathon still had not returned, and Emily began to wonder if, indeed, she was to go to Williamsburg after all. She joined David and Joanna in the parlor after the meal and watched Will in his mother’s arms. She had hoped to conceive a child by now and felt envious of Joanna. She realized how much she loved little Will and how much she would miss him.

“May I hold him, Joanna?” Emily asked.

“Of course, Emily,” she said. She rose and brought the baby to her. As Joanna laid Will in Emily’s arms, she smiled into the girl’s eyes in understanding.

Emily cradled the baby against herself and, as she looked down at him, her eyes brimmed with tears. She tried to blink them back, but they caught on her lashes and spilled down her cheeks. Joanna sat beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders.