Authors: Elizabeth Johns
“It isn't?”
“Mind you, I’ve only been in the one place, but the people are much the same. There isn't as much fancy society, but people here work hard and people there work hard. In fact, many of the folk you will see came from England.”
“What is River’s Bend like?”
Josie's face took on a dreamy look as she told of the manor house on the river, and the vast fields of crops and vineyards that were grown there.
“It sounds very romantic,” Amelia said wistfully.
“Is there anything else near?” Lydia asked practically.
“Oh, certainly. You can reach Alexandria or Washington travelling a few miles in either direction.”
Hearing Josie speak about River’s Bend made Gwen think that it must indeed be a magical place. Josie spoke of all the fun and adventure she and Elly had had there together. She had also heard Elly tell stories and about how she missed her old home as they had prepared to leave. She could not help but daydream about what life would be like there in case she never returned to England.
She tried to dampen her anticipation and expectation of Mr. Abbott’s reception of her, but it was very difficult not to include him on her grand adventure. She often replayed their brief week together over and over in her mind. But for some, it was out of sight out of mind. It had been several months since that fateful day when he’d left, and even though he wrote to her, it might only have been out of pity. He had been most attentive—she was certain she was not wrong. What she was not certain of was the manner of proposal he intended, being so beneath his touch as she was. It was ridiculous to think he could have meant marriage.
Elly had assured Gwen that the Dowager had said he was enamoured when she’d had second thoughts about boarding the ship. He would not have invited her to join him were his love not assured. Those were heady statements indeed. However, she tried to maintain some measure of rational thought. Perhaps his family did not know him as well as they thought, she supposed. It was not uncommon in Society for a gentleman to keep a mistress. Marriages were arrangements of wealth, property and bloodlines in the aristocracy, which made her a highly undesirable candidate for wife. A ladybird was all gentlemen had thought her fit for after her father's downfall, and she would never forget the shame she felt when those gentleman had made their intentions known. She knew deep down her worth should not be measured by Society’s standards, but it was hard to overcome that experience. She could not stop herself from dreaming when alone with her thoughts, but she scarce dared to hope her destiny could be that of becoming Mrs. Abbott.
As the days passed on the seemingly endless sea, she tried to focus on the peace and serenity. If she stayed in her cabin she began to feel her sanity escaping her. Her grief was raw and her future uncertain, and it became easy to doubt. It was a small measure of comfort to feel the wind in her face and sail into the horizon, and believe that her mother was watching over her journey.
Nearly one hundred drawings, twenty books and thousands of card games later, someone shouted ‘land ho!’ Never before had Gwen properly appreciated earth, grass and trees. Some things one had to do without in order to appropriately miss them.
***
Andrew had found some workers to help rebuild the house, but they were not moving quickly enough for his liking. They worked diligently while he was around, but he had no notion if they would do so were he to leave. He had acquired many skills in this venture, not to mention calloused hands and sore muscles.
As he watched the summer fade into autumn, he was afraid he would be away from Miss Lambert until the spring. From the sound of his grandmother’s letters, he did not think she would wait for him. He had been parted from her several months already. But he would find her, no matter, and hope it wasn't too late. Absence was perhaps making his heart grow fonder—if that were possible—and he did not want to imagine life without her.
He helped nearly every day, but rebuilding was still a slow process. They had managed to enclose the house and paint it, therefore it looked whole from the outside at least, leaving only ten more rooms until freedom. His father had written of sending a steward from England, and he watched hopefully every day for his arrival, but thus far the only visitors had been ladies throwing their eligible daughters in his path. Even their belief that he had an intended did not deter them much.
He enjoyed the tasty baskets of baked goods and home brew they offered, but he could not find temptation in any of them personally. If Miss Lambert would not have him, he would not have anyone. She owned his heart. He sat on the porch swing he had built for relaxation after a hard day’s work and kicked up his feet. He had just taken a sip of lemonade when he heard carriage wheels. He muttered curses under his breath and decided against putting his sweaty shirt back on. Who could it be at this hour? He wasn't in any condition for unannounced visitors.
He began laughing at the sight the visitors would be presented with, and the gentleman in him won out.
"It would serve them right."
Everyone about knew the plantation was being rebuilt and he wasn't entertaining. This was not the time of day that people visited without an invitation. He sat back down and drank his lemonade hastily. He was not going to waste his hard earned treat. He continued with his feet up, hoping the carriage would realise it had taken a wrong turn.
The plantation workers had all settled in for the night in their cottages. Everyone worked hard and therefore turned in early, Andrew included. He would be more lonely were he not so exhausted from labour. But every evening before turning in he would sit here on the porch and dream of his green-eyed, flame-haired goddess and what it would be like to kiss her.
“I should have kissed her before I left,” he muttered to himself. He had never regretted anything more. Perhaps she would not have doubted me, he thought smugly. Or perhaps she would have doubted my intentions were honourable. He shook his head and tossed a nearby pebble as the carriage grew closer.
He eyed his rancid shirt with distaste and decided to walk himself and his shirt over to the water for a quick rinse. He had taken to bathing in the river. Why would he bathe indoors when he had Nature’s bathtub at his doorstep? He grabbed the bar of soap he kept on the ledge and took a refreshing plunge. He had some new plumbing inventions installed in the house to include indoor water closets and faucets, but he had not yet tried the bathing apparatus. He rather liked bathing at sunset.
The sounds of the carriage came closer. He was trying to determine who the visitors were before committing himself, but it was growing too dark to make anything out. He had best come out of the water to see. There was boat traffic this evening, and they wouldn’t be able to see him in the dark anyway.
A boat came nearer and nearer to his landing, and carriages still sounded in the distance. Was the long-awaited steward here at last? He ran into the house and changed into some dry clothes and was walking back towards the landing with a lantern when he spied a rather large party of men landing.
“Ahoy there!” one of them yelled.
“Welcome!” Andrew yelled excitedly and waved his arms as if he was Crusoe being rescued. “Who goes there?”
“Major Abbott?” He heard a familiar voice.
“Buffy?” Would it be highly inappropriate if he gave him a hug? He was so relieved to see a familiar face. He settled for shaking his arm with vigour.
“Yes, sir. I brought along five men to help us.”
“I could kiss your feet, Buffy.”
A carriage pulled up near the house, and they all turned to see the arrivals.
“I'm a popular man tonight, Buffy. Unfortunately, it is seldom a welcome visitor.”
“That must be Lord Fairmont with the ladies. They were sick of being on a boat.”
“The ladies?” He swallowed hard. Dared he hope? His pulse began to race and he was more nervous than he'd been at any time in Wellington’s service. He'd had too much time alone to think. What should he do? He always said something acerbic. It was his best mode of defence. But this was Gwen, and she'd just lost everything. For once, humour did not seem suitable.
The carriage opened to reveal Mrs. Bradley, followed by her eldest daughter, Jenny.
Oh God above, please help me not to strangle them
, he thought. Suddenly sarcasm did not seem inapt.
“Good evening, Mrs. Bradley, Miss Bradley. My company from England has only just arrived. I believe the carriage behind you is carrying the ladies.”
“Oh, dearest me. I had not realized you were expecting such a large party,” Mrs. Bradley said, as she blatantly surveyed the crew of men approaching from the landings as a mother of four unmarried daughters would.
He had only mentioned the imminent arrival of his family every time he had spoken with Mrs Bradley during the past month since he’d learned of it. He desperately wanted to dispose of her and her daughter before his visitors arrived. Instead, Miss Bradley took the opportunity to boldly wind her arm through his and behave as though she were mistress of the manor.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your guests?” Jenny suggested.
“I apologise, ladies, but it is growing late and I am certain the arrivals will wish to be settled and rest. Perhaps we may meet for a proper introduction soon,” he said cordially, but with finality. He walked them towards their carriage and tried to usher them in. Mrs. Bradley was speechless for once.
“We shall throw a welcome party for them,” she blurted, trying to stall her departure.
“Very considerate of you, ma’am. Good day!” he practically shouted as he shut the door and signalled to the driver.
The other carriage pulled to a stop, and the door opened and Amelia poured out.
“Uncle Andrew!” She ran and barrelled in to his arms. That would never get old.
“Amelia!” Lady Fairmont chastised while laughing.
“She has a few more years to polish her technique. How are you, Lydia?” Andrew said as he opened his arms.
“Very well, Andrew, but most happy to be off the ship.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
“Not so happy as Miss Lambert, I'll wager.” Lord Fairmont said dryly, as he exited with their son sleeping on his shoulder.
Andrew's breath caught in his throat. She was here. She’d actually come! He had to stop himself from jumping into the carriage and driving off. He longed to welcome her properly. He was thankful he had rid himself of the unwelcome appendage of Miss Bradley on his arm.
“Where is she?” he asked, as he walked to the door of the carriage and peeked his head in. Gwen was sitting in the corner crying. When he saw that, he had no choice but to climb in and wrap his arms around her.
“What's the matter, dearest Gwen? Are those tears of happiness to see me?” he teased.
She hiccoughed a laugh. “Insufferable, odious man! You won't even allow me to cry seriously.”
He inhaled the most pleasant scent from her glorious hair. “What should I think when you arrive crying?”
“I thought it would be marvellous to travel abroad. But I should not have come.”
“Now, now. Do not be so hasty in your judgement, or I might take it personally. You have not had a proper meal for over a month, I gather.”
“It would not matter if I had.”
“I assume the sea agrees with you about as well as it agrees with me.”
She nodded.
“Let us get you inside. Once you've eaten and had a good night’s sleep, everything will seem better in the morning.”
He handed her out of the carriage and walked her into the house. Seeing Miss Lambert happy was his primary concern. He fervently hoped that Gwen’s tears were not from having caught sight of Miss Bradley and assuming the worst.
Chapter Fifteen
Gwen was relieved to be on dry land, but as she looked around at this strange country, she felt conflicting emotions. The city of Washington had been large and daunting, and looked nothing like Bath, though it paled in comparison to London. She was somewhat relieved to cross the Potomac River and into the countryside. They soon reached the gates of the plantation, and it was an incredible sight as the sun was beginning to set. They rode through fields of tobacco and vineyard-covered hills, before entering a wooded parkland. When the trees stopped, a beautiful white mansion stood before them abutted by a large river. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. Her sketch had not begun to do it justice. She was already itching to begin painting it.
Her eyes drifted towards the crowd of people standing before the house. Her palms began to sweat as she searched nervously for his face. At last she found it, and next to him, arm-in-arm, was a beautiful, elegantly dressed young woman with perfectly coiffed brunette curls. Gwen shrunk into the corner of the carriage with her heart in her throat. She knew she had made a grave mistake. She had not fully thought through what would happen when she arrived, but she had not expected to see another woman on his arm!
Tears fell from her eyes and the magnitude of what she had done hit her with full force. This was not how it was supposed to turn out. No, in storybooks, the heroine did not go chasing after her prince. He was supposed to come to her. Yet here she was throwing herself at his feet. Of course he had found someone else of his own station. She was disgusted with herself and filled with remorse for her naivety. She should never have listened to Andrew’s family. Of course they would think him a saint!