Just Jane (8 page)

Soon, to Lucinda's annoyance, Brandon had Jane in his ardent clutches, declaring his undying devotion and assuring her that every day he spent without her was utter misery.

“It's good to see you, Brandon,” she said with a fond smile. It occurred to her that unlike Jacques, who didn't pretend that he meant what he said, Brandon honestly believed his own romantic declarations. She did not, but she had to admit to herself, she found them charming.

Soon enough, Brandon deserted both young ladies, displeasing Lucinda still further by attaching himself to Robert. He wanted to talk to his uncle about building a racetrack on a section of unused Rosewall land. Jane noticed that Robert listened carefully. It seemed to her that he was the only member of the family who took Brandon's enthusiasm for horses and racing seriously.

 

For two hours, the house and grounds rang with social chatter as guests lounged in the parlor or strolled with their host and hostess along the garden paths. Then in midafternoon, Omar appeared, announcing in his deep voice, “Dinner be served!” The guests filed into the dining room, scanned the place cards, and seated themselves at the huge table—Robert at the head, Clarissa at the other end.

While Cuba served the first course, Omar worked his way around the table pouring wine. Then Robert tapped his glass for quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to propose a toast.” When all glasses were raised, he continued. “I should like to honor a new family member. Like a beautiful English rose, she has brightened all our lives immeasurably since she has been with us. Indeed, as the great Shakespeare wrote, ‘She doth teach the torches to burn bright.' Would you all please join me in honoring the daughter of my late brother, Edward, Third Earl of Almesbury—my beloved niece, Lady Jane Prentice.”

“To Lady Jane,” chorused the guests, drinking the toast.

Jane glowed with pleasure as the friendly faces beamed at her. She knew she couldn't decline being called Lady Jane this time.
How sweet of Uncle Robert
, she thought.
And how clever of Aunt Clarissa, to enliven these drowsy summer days with a lovely party
.

After dinner, the women moved into the parlor while the menfolk remained in the dining room sipping brandy and indulging in what Clarissa called “mantalk.” The “woman-talk” in the parlor failing to hold Jane's interest, she wandered over to a window and stood admiring the soft golden slant of afternoon sunlight on the grounds outside. Thus, she was the only one who saw the horseman arrive at the front gate; saw Omar open the gate to admit him; saw the visitor dismount, hand the horse's reins to Omar, and walk hurriedly toward the house. Feeling the color of excitement rising in her cheeks, Jane turned to see that Clarissa was watching her.

“What is it, Jane? Something going on out there?”

Jane tried to make her reply sound casual. “Mr. Cordwyn just arrived.”

Clarissa stiffened slightly, stared rigidly at Jane for a moment, then turned back to her guests.

 

Robert was discussing the prospects for next year's rice crop with his friend Louis Lambert when Omar came into the dining room and leaned over him.

“'Scuse, sar. Mr. Cordwyn from Charlestown desires admittance.”

“Cordwyn!” Robert scowled. “What the devil is he doing here?”

“It must be urgent for him to have ridden all this way,” Arthur Ainsley said. “We'd best find out.”

“Very well, show him in,” Robert said gruffly.

Simon appeared before them, his face grimy, his shirt damp. “My apologies for this intrusion, Mr. Prentice,” he began. “I was sent with a message for Mr. Ainsley. But in truth, it's important to everyone here.”

“All right, Simon,” Arthur said. “Let's have it.”

“It's from Mr. Rutledge with the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, sir.” Simon's tone was solemn. “The Virginia Resolution is adopted. The American colonies are declared free and independent from England.”

Frozen as if in disbelief, the men at the table stared at the messenger, then at one another. Red in the face, Robert came to his feet.

“This party,” he growled between clenched teeth, “is at an end.”

Suddenly everyone was up and shouting at once. Sweeping into the room, Clarissa brushed past Simon without a glance and approached her husband.

“Don't let this upset you, Robert,” she said in a soothing tone. “Those wild men in Philadelphia are surely bluffing.”

Simon was quick to dispute this. “I'm afraid not, Mrs. Prentice. I've seen Mr. Jefferson's resolution. It's called the Declaration of Independence now, and it ends with the words, ‘We pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor.' It's no bluff.” Turning from Clarissa's cold gaze, he addressed Arthur again. “Sir, Mr. Rutledge wishes the Declaration to be read from the steps of the Exchange Building on Monday. And he hopes that you, as well as all the other respected and influential men of the city, will be present, to stand in a show of solidarity and support.”

“No, Arthur!” Clarissa pleaded. “You wouldn't!”

“Not unless he's a complete fool!” Robert snapped. “Joining a mob for a public declaration of treason? Unthinkable!” Again Simon disagreed. “Three-quarters of Charlestown's population is no mere mob, ma'am. People are dancing in the streets at the news. This will not soon pass.”

Robert lashed out at him. “Damn you, Cordwyn! I've always suspected your loyalty. Now I see I was right!”

“You're mistaken, sir. I deplore the rebel movement as both ill-advised and doomed to failure. I report to you only what I've seen with my own eyes.”

Dismissing Simon with a snort of disgust, Robert turned back to his brother-in-law. “Well, Arthur. The time has come when you must state once and for all where you stand. With King, Crown, and orderly rule? Or with the rebel mob? Which is it?”

The ladies had silently filed in to stand with their husbands, who were on their feet, watching and waiting. All eyes were on Arthur—some suspicious, some openly hostile. But beside him stood a faithful ally.

“I'm with you, Arthur,” Harriet said softly, “whatever you must do.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Drawing strength from her, he spoke. “Friends, not long ago I met with Mr. Rutledge, Mr. Heyward, and the others who were going up to Philadelphia to the Continental Congress. It was decided that they would speak moderately and explore all avenues for reconciliation with England. But if a strong course of action was determined upon, we would stand steadfastly together. I pledged myself to that. Now that such decisive action has been taken,
I will keep my word. I will be there on Monday. And heaven help our cause, which is just and right.”

Brandon slammed his fist down on the table in rage. “For God's sake, Father, come to your senses! Even the learned schoolmaster says this rebellion is doomed. You could lose everything—maybe even your life!”

Arthur smiled sadly. “We're a strange pair, Brandon. A father moving into the future, a son clinging to the past. Seems as if it should be the other way around. I wish you'd join me on Monday. After all, it's your generation that will have to carry on the work of mine. But if it's not to be—”

“I cannot speak for my generation, Father,” Brandon declared hotly, “but for myself, it's certainly not to be. I am a King's man, and you speak treason. Henceforth, sir, we are enemies!”

Harriet and Clarissa gasped in horror, but Robert beamed approval. “Well said, my boy!”

Arthur turned on Robert, seething with bitterness. “It seems he
is
your boy, and none of mine.”

Robert, too, was seething. “I can only tell you that if you do this, Arthur, you'll never set foot in my house again. Nor I in yours.”

Clarissa appealed to both of them. “Now, Robert, there's no need for such talk. Please, Arthur—don't do this to us!”

Their guests stood spellbound by the sight of a family disintegrating. In all the turmoil, no one noticed that Simon had quietly slipped away. Or that the guest of honor was nowhere to be seen.

 

Simon found her sitting on a garden bench under a grape arbor. “Hello, Jane. May I join you?”

She gave a disinterested shrug. “If you like.”

“Thank you.” He drew a heavy sigh as he slumped down beside her. “I believe I've made myself very unpopular here today.”

“I know. I was listening from the hallway. Well, they say it's human nature to blame the messenger for bad news.”

“And it's bad news, indeed. This so-called Declaration of Independence will be taken by the British as a declaration of war, nothing less. Until now there was still some faint hope for a peaceable settlement. But now I'm very much afraid we've passed the point of no return.”

“The point of no return,” Jane repeated dully. “So now we must watch helplessly while friends go to war against friends. Kinsmen against kinsmen. Fathers and sons become sworn enemies! My heart bleeds, Mr. Cordwyn.”

He nodded somber agreement. “As does mine. As any thoughtful person's must. But I've learned that yours is a particularly sensitive heart. It's one of the many charming things about you that never ceases to—”

Jane rose abruptly and moved off a few steps. “It's getting late,” she said, her tone now cool and distant. “Shouldn't you be going?”

“Indeed, I should. Even at full gallop, I'll be long after dark getting back to town. But we're not quite done here yet.” He got up and came to where Jane was standing. “When I volunteered to bring the news out here today, I knew I wouldn't be welcomed. But I gladly took on the duty, because I wanted to see
you
again. There's something we need to talk about.”

“Really?” Jane looked off into the distance. “I can't imagine what.”

“I think you can. The morning you left Charlestown, you were very cold to me. And unless I'm imagining things, you still are. I've racked my brain ever since, wondering what on earth I did or said to displease you. But it's quite beyond me. So, won't you tell me now?”

This was something Jane had intended never to discuss with anyone, least of all Mr. Cordwyn. But now that he had confronted her with the question, she forced herself to answer. “The night before we left Charlestown, I saw you and Aunt Clarissa together in the garden. Heard you, too.”

“Oh, dear Lord!” Simon held his head, groaning. “So
that's
it! I am so sorry, Jane. If you'd been there to overhear us again the other day, you'd know that's all over now. I was a lonely bachelor, she was a discontented wife—but that's no excuse. It was a shameful thing that never should have happened, and when she visited last week, I put an end to it.”

“And that's why she's angry with you now?”

“Exactly. We had a bit of a row. She became furious, accused me of deceiving her, which I certainly never meant to do. In any event, it's finished. And I'm terribly sorry you heard about it. I expect you'll think ill of me forever now, won't you?”

“Well . . .” Jane's hostility was slipping away. “Since you've put an end to it, I suppose I can feel more kindly toward you.”

“I'm very relieved to hear that. Because, you see, this will be our last meeting, and I'd deeply regret it if we couldn't part friends.”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him. “Whatever can you mean?”

“I'm leaving now. Going back to Pennsylvania, where I came from. I've always intended to go back one day. I couldn't live my whole life in a society that depends on human slavery. Besides, I'm worried about my sister and her family. They have those two young children to look after, and now I've heard my brother-in-law's in poor health. When war explodes all around them, which it's bound to soon, they'll need me.”

“Of course they will. I understand,” Jane said. “But before you go, will you be my schoolmaster one last time? I need your guidance. I'm still so . . . so
uneducated
, I scarcely know who or what I am. I'm English, but I live in America now. And all around me there are people I care about on both sides of this terrible conflict. What shall I do? Where should my allegiance lie?”

Simon smiled as he shook his head. “You don't need guidance from me, Jane. Nor from anyone. Knowing you, I'm quite confident that you'll do what you always do. You'll listen, you'll observe, you'll think things through for yourself, then make your own decision. And whatever it is, it will be a wise one. Because you
are
wise. And that's even better than being educated. So there you are. And now I really do have to be on my way.”

Her grave eyes held him. “You'll be greatly missed, Mr. Cordwyn.”

“I'll miss a few people myself. The Ainsleys. They've been good to me. Hugh and Lydia—dear friends. Even hotheaded Peter. And, of course, you, Jane. You're the best, the brightest student I ever had. Let's not say good-bye, all right? Let's just tell each other”—he took her hand and held it—“‘may God keep you safe till we meet again.' Will you share that parting thought with me?”

She nodded, no longer trusting herself to speak.

“Don't forget me. I won't forget you.” He kissed her hand lightly, then let it go and strode rapidly toward the gate.

Jane watched until Omar had closed the gate behind him and the sound of his galloping horse's hooves had died away in the distance. Then, feeling numb, she started slowly back to the house. Others would be leaving soon, of course. As Robert had so rightly said, the party was over. Jane wanted desperately to be alone, but her good manners would not permit that. Putting on her most gracious demeanor, she went back inside to attend to her social duties.

After all, she was supposed to be the guest of honor today.

 

Light was failing in the west when at last she escaped to her room and found merciful solitude. As seen from her window, the deserted garden, its flowery abundance softened by lengthening shadows, was especially beautiful—but she was in no mood to appreciate beauty. She was thinking of the gentle schoolmaster, and things he had said that she knew would haunt her forever.