Sweet Deception Regency 07 - The Divided Hearts (17 page)

He paused, his eyes turned inward as though
he could picture the horrific scene. His voice had a faraway sound
which sent shivers along Judith’s spine and she noticed Patrick’s
eyes were fixed hypnotically on her father’s face. After a moment
Simon continued.

“When the crew had milked the passengers of
their last guilders, they deserted and set the ship adrift. On and
on it sailed, with no one aboard to navigate a course or mend the
sheets. Somehow the ship arrived safely in the bay but at the last
it struck a reef off Block Island. As was the custom, wreckers
swarmed aboard, stunned at the carnage that met their eyes. Of all
that vast company, there were only sixteen persons still alive.
They took them off, all except for one madwoman who refused to
leave. But when they tried to tow the ship into a secluded cove, a
gale sprang up so fierce it threatened to blow the ship apart. The
wreckers set the ship afire and once more set her adrift.”

Simon’s voice dropped to a whisper and both
Patrick and Judith huddled closer so as not to miss a word.
“Enveloped in flames, the Palatine sailed into the storm on her
last voyage. On shore all that could be heard was the roar of the
fire and the frenzied cries of the madwoman still on board. Now and
then a peculiar light can be seen off Block Island. Some have seen
it closer to Newport. Most say that it’s the phantom of Palatine,
ever drifting, swaying in the roll of the waves. Still it burns but
is never consumed.”

Judith sighed at the end of the story. She
had been mesmerized by the sound of her father’s voice, caught up
in the spell of the barbaric tale. It was a fitting ending to their
day at the beach and even Patrick must have sensed it, for without
a word, he began to pull on his stockings and boots for the trip
home.

“Welcome, Simon. We have not seen you often
of late,” Dolly Case said, beaming from behind the fringe of hair
that dangled in front of her eyes. With one hand she brushed the
curls away from her forehead and with the other she
enthusiastically shook Simon’s hand.

“Your husband was kind enough to remind me
of that fact, after I had soundly trounced him at chess the other
night,” Simon chuckled.

“And, Judith. How lovely you look,” Dolly
said. The plump little woman’s voice was sincere as she smiled at
the girl in the soft yellow muslin dress. “You remember my youngest
daughters? Amy and Julie.”

Judith smiled down at the flushed faces of
the girls who shyly peeked from behind their mother’s skirts. It
always amazed her that the nine-year-old twins looked nothing alike
except for the enormous freckles that covered their faces. Amy,
whose features were thin and elegant, had bone-straight,
white-blond hair, tied with a perky blue ribbon to match her
enormous cornflower blue eyes. Julie, her face still childishly
plump, had warm brown hair and soft brown eyes. Lest anyone suspect
she was as ladylike as her sister, one only had to behold the
devilish glint of mischief that sparkled in her eyes. Dolly drew
the girls forward to make their curtsies, and Judith was hard
pressed to smother a laugh. The girls wore matching blue dimity
dresses. Amy’s, as expected, was crisp and neat. The hem of Julie’s
dress drooped in the back where it had gotten snagged on something,
the bow was crushed and grass-stained and there was a shapeless
blob of what looked suspiciously like berry pie on the smocked
bodice.

“Thank you, girls, for inviting me to your
party,” Judith said to the giggling girls. “Have you met Patrick
O’Shea?”

Judith grasped the arm of the boy’s
linsey-woolsey jacket and pulled the red-faced child from behind
her back. When she cleared her throat, he made an awkward but
creditable bow, mumbling his greetings under his breath. Amy and
Julie giggled behind their hands.

“What a fine young man,” Dolly gushed.

Judith watched in amusement as the backs of
the boy’s ears took on a brilliant pink tinge and squeezed his
shoulder in encouragement.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Patrick muttered,
rubbing the toe of his boot on the back of his other leg.

Dolly’s eyes kindled with warmth and she
took pity on the squirming child. “Perhaps you would like it if the
girls took you around the farm? Amy? Julie?”

“I’ll do it,” Amy offered.

“I will,” her sister piped up.

“I offered first.”

“Well, I thought of it first.” Julie stuck
her tongue out in triumph.

“Mo-omma!” Amy wailed.

“Girls,” Dolly said in exasperation. “Where
are your manners?”

“Sorry, momma.” Amy smiled archly at her
sister than turned to Patrick. “I could show you the new puppies,”
she lisped, holding out her hand to the boy. “They’re ever so
sweet.”

Patrick ignored the hand, looking up at
Judith in appeal. She nodded and he shrugged, gingerly taking the
small girl’s hand as though it were something repugnant. Feet
dragging, he followed her down the steps onto the lawn. Not to be
outdone, Julie scampered after the pair.

“Wait until you see the loft, Patrick. Poppa
hung a rope from the ceiling and you can leap off right into a
mound of hay.” Julie grabbed the sleeve of his coat and started to
run, pulling him along.

Patrick dropped Amy’s hand, grinning over
his shoulder at the dainty girl. “Come on, slowpoke, or we’ll miss
everything?”

“That boy is going to be a true caution when
he grows up,” Judith said smiling in chagrin at the girls’
mother.

“It’s a wonderful age,” Dolly said. “There
are times when I wish the girls were more alike, but in the long
run it’s better that they can be so individual.”

“There you are, Simon,” boomed a voice from
behind them. “And the beauteous Judith.”

Turning, Judith curtsied to Dr. Case, their
host for the afternoon. Ruddy cheeks smiled at her out of a heavily
whiskered face and his blue eyes twinkled with good nature as he
thumped Simon on the shoulder.

“Watch my back, you old quack,” Simon
roared. “I’ve just spent what seemed like months in bed, no thanks
to your medications.”

“If you’d called on me, I’d have been more
than willing to give you the advantage of my scientific advice.”
David Case quirked an eyebrow as he stared at Simon’s ample
waistline.

“A bottle of brandy a day proved an
effective cure,” Simon snapped.

“Gout’s next,” the doctor predicted
gloomily.

“You’re becoming an old fogey!”

Dolly intervened as the friends glowered at
each other. “David, why don’t you take Simon over and get him
something to drink. I’ll take care of Judith.”

The older woman looped her arm through
Judith’s and ushered her around the yard, introducing her to some
of the people she had not previously met. Then with a smile she
settled her on a chair beside her oldest daughter so that Judith
might watch the quilting bee in progress.

“Would you like to help?” Maggie Case asked
shyly.

Judith pulled a laughing face at the
nineteen year old and held up her hands in feigned horror. “I fear
I would ruin your exquisite masterpiece. My clumsy stitches would
look sadly flat compared to yours.”

“I’m just a beginner,” Maggie demurred,
raising doe-like brown eyes to Judith. “It really isn’t
difficult.”

Judith assured the girl that she would much
prefer to watch and settled into her chair. She liked Dolly’s
daughter for beneath the shy exterior, the dainty brunette was
every bit as mischievous as her younger sister Julie. They had had
an opportunity to talk on several occasions and Judith found the
girl to be well educated and like herself a devoted reader. Given
time, she hoped they would be friends.

Until Judith arrived in Newport she had
never seen a quilting bee. Simon had explained that the curious
American custom was one of the main sources of female hospitality.
Unused to idleness yet enjoying the companionship of others, the
colonial women had devised this useful project, so that while they
sewed they could trade gossip, recipes and general chitchat. Judith
had been fascinated by the variations in design and pattern.

“Whose quilt are you making today?” Judith
asked, admiring the bright geometric pattern of the harlequin
design.

“This will be for Jeremiah Meadville. He
wants to be a doctor and has been working with my father.” Maggie
answered. “It’s called a Freedom Quilt and Jeremy is twenty-one
today. Momma said it was the custom when she was a girl to give one
to the young men as a symbol of their independence.”

Dawn, a lovely blonde sitting on the far
side of the quilting frame, took up the story. “Usually the men had
quilts made by their mothers and their sisters. But at this
advanced age”-the girls tittered, grinning over their work-”the men
could live on their own. The quilt was his until he found a wife
who would make quilts to fill his home.”

“But this is the best part, Judith,” Patty
said. Her long elegant fingers holding the needle were poised over
a diamond shaped scrap of bright rose satin. “The quilt is made by
Jeremy’s lady friends. We each bring pieces of material from our
prettiest dresses to make up the design. This rose one was my
favorite.”

“She looked a picture,” Dawn enthused,
doe-eyes peering at the others for confirmation.

“And this one,” Jeanne said, her voice
wistful as she pointed to a yellow diamond, “was my favorite. I
ruined it when I spilled prune whip all down the front. I’ve always
had a taste for prunes.”

“I wonder if you have any taste at all,”
Martha snapped. Her prim mouth was set in disapproval and the
others rolled their eyes in amusement. “You would do well to learn
to cook rather than eat. I myself excel in all the wifely
arts.”

“Then why aren’t you married?” redheaded
Sharon asked in quick defense of her friend. She immediately hugged
the scandalized Martha to take the sting out of her words.

Judith joined in the laughter of the girls
as they once more bent their heads over their work, their lips as
busy as their flashing needles. The talk was very similar to the
discussions Judith would have overheard in London. The latest
fashions, engagements and discreet hints of scandal were spoken of
with varying degrees of enthusiasm. However the abilities and
shortcomings of the men they knew were the favored topic of
conversation.

“Ezekiel Waters keeps looking right over
here.” The short girl sitting beside Maggie announced, nudging
her.

“Hush, Ruth,” she said as a becoming blush
rose to her cheeks. “Zeke will hear you.”

“He’s with Bobby Feldhake and that awful
Dennis Burgess,” Suzette whispered as she stabbed her needle
sharply into the batting. “Dennis pinched me yesterday when I saw
him in town.”

“The nerve of that man. Has he no social
conscience? Where did he pinch you?” Ruth asked, her eyes round
with horror.

“In front of the Redwood Library,” Suzette
answered archly.

There was a momentary pause and then the
bevy of girls dissolved into gay whoops of laughter. It was almost
late afternoon when the quilt was finished. They spread it wide and
the other guests joined in admiring the work. The center of
attention, Jeremy Meadville fussed with his spectacles in an agony
of embarrassment and pleasure. In his quiet manner he complimented
each of the girls on their needlework. He paused in front of
Maggie, stumbling over his words.

“I remember this b-blue dress. It was real
pretty.” The gawky young man shifted his feet self-consciously.

“Momma made it for my birthday last year,”
Maggie said, staring with rapt attention at the quilt in her
hands.

“I remember,” Jeremy said. His eyes were
full of longing which went unnoticed as the girl refused to raise
her head.

Judith left the young couple alone, moving
to join her father who was talking to Nathanael Bellingham. She was
not surprised to see him since he seemed to be in popular demand
for every social occasion. Like many gatherings she had attended in
Newport the guests came from both of the political camps. Simon had
already told her that there would come a time when everyone would
be forced to declare a loyalty but for now the two sides freely
mingled.

“Gadzooks, milady, your very beauty leaves
me speechless for a proper greeting.” Nate drawled

“Would that that were true,” Judith answered
sweetly.

“Now, now, minx,” Simon said, raising his
hands palms facing her. “Let’s not start this conversation with
daggers drawn. I’m much too old to referee another dustup.”

“You’re right, old dear,” Judith said,
linking her arm with her father. “Besides it’s such a beautiful
day. Truce, Nathanael?”

“Your every wish… ,” he began, until he
took in her cocked head and narrowed eyes. Hastily he said,
“Agreed.”

“Congratulations, Jeremy, on your birthday,”
Simon boomed as the young man joined their group.

Nate echoed his best wishes, shaking hands
with Jeremy. “Since you’ve been looking after my cattle, they’re
all in prime twig. Thanks for the poultice for Dakar’s leg. It
worked the trick. The stallion’s been trotting around like a four
year old.”

“He’s a good horse, Nate, for all his
years.”

Now that the talk was in his area, Jeremy
seemed less shy and awkward. Judith had liked the soft-spoken young
man when she first met him. She saw, behind the eyeglasses, a mind
both quick and intelligent and occasionally she caught a flash of
dry wit. He was slight of stature, wiry rather than muscular and
seemed ill at ease among the brawny types in the younger crowd.
Judith had seen his preference for Maggie Case but he appeared to
stand back as the other young bucks vied for the girl’s
attention.

“Would anyone care to bet on the outcome of
the race?” Zeke Waters said as he pushed himself between Jeremy and
Nathanael. “Good lord, Nate, you must think me a threat, to be
turned out in such a businesslike manner.”