Tracie Peterson & Judith Miller - [Lights of Lowell 01] (15 page)

Adjusting the lace collar on her pale yellow gown, Jasmine tried to think of another way to word her request in such a manner that her grandmother would yield. She’d been cajoling the Wainwright matriarch in the rose garden for well over half an hour, but there was no indication she would budge from her position.

Grandmother concentrated on her stitching as though the piece of embroidery required unremitting attention. ‘‘You will not change my mind upon this matter,’’ she said as if reading Jasmine’s mind. ‘‘I insist upon acquiring Bradley’s permission. If you’ll recall, the last time I hastily agreed to one of your requests, we suffered dire consequences.’’

Jasmine thought to stomp her foot but stopped short of the act. She knew such childlike behavior wouldn’t serve her cause.

‘‘There’s nothing further Bradley can do to me—to us. He’s already imposed himself on me with this ridiculous engagement.’’

Alice Wainwright looked up and shook her head. ‘‘You know better, Jasmine. There are many ways Bradley could punish us both. However, he’s been civil and even kind. It was very generous of him to send us that gift of exotic fruit.’’

‘‘I don’t care how many gifts he sends. I have no desire to be his wife.’’

Grandmother caught her eye and was silent a moment before saying, ‘‘This truly isn’t an issue about whether you want to marry him or not. Your father has arranged an advantageous union. It is your duty to put your family ahead of yourself. Women have done this for generations and will go on doing it for generations to come.’’

‘‘Not if I can help it,’’ Jasmine replied bitterly. ‘‘I would want my children to marry for love.’’

‘‘But emotions are greatly overrated. There is much to be said for making a good marriage—knowing you and yours will be provided for, that you will always have shelter and food. It was thus with my father, and I learned to be happy, even grateful, that he had made such a choice on my behalf.’’

‘‘Well, I’ll never be grateful for Bradley Houston,’’ Jasmine said, folding her arms against the ruching of her bodice. For several minutes she paced back and forth before trying to turn the conversation back to her original request.

‘‘I can’t see the harm in this outing. Besides, I truly want to go, Grandmother. You’ll be with us, and we could ask Violet and Mrs. Cheever to attend.’’

‘‘No need to extend an invitation until you’ve received Bradley’s permission. You’re now betrothed to him, Jasmine. It is improper to go on an outing with another man without Bradley’s express permission.’’

‘‘Nolan isn’t another man; he’s Bradley’s brother. And I need no further reminders I am betrothed. That distasteful news constantly haunts me.’’

Grandmother looked over the top of her reading glasses with a raised brow. ‘‘I don’t believe Bradley would appreciate your appraisal of the situation.’’ Her expression softened into sympathetic concern. ‘‘My dear, you must try to accept your fate and make it work so that you’ll be happy. I would not have chosen this man for you, but your father has.’’

Jasmine plopped down on a cushioned garden chair. ‘‘Yes, I know.’’ There was resignation in her voice. The issue of her marriage to Bradley Houston was no longer something to be discussed or deliberated. Her father had agreed to their betrothal, and her mother was already making arrangements for the wedding. Perhaps that was why it seemed so important to insist on this one simple outing. ‘‘So there is nothing I can say that will convince you?’’ she finally asked.

‘‘Nothing short of Bradley’s consent.’’ The old woman continued stitching. Jasmine wondered how she could possibly be so at ease. Without looking up, her grandmother asked, ‘‘Shall I send word to Bradley?’’

Jasmine shook her head and folded her hands in her lap. ‘‘No need. I didn’t expect you would relent. He should be here any moment.’’

Alice stopped stitching and gazed at her granddaughter. ‘‘Had I yielded, what would you have asked him when he appeared?’’

Jasmine shrugged. ‘‘Something would have come to mind. However, I hadn’t prepared. I was certain you wouldn’t acquiesce.’’

Alice shook her head and pursed her lips. ‘‘I dare say—’’

‘‘Excuse me, ma’am. Mr. Bradley is here to call on Miss Jasmine,’’ Martha said quietly.

Bradley came up behind Martha in long, determined strides and brushed past her. ‘‘I told her I didn’t need to be announced, but she insisted. I’m in a bit of a rush, Jasmine. What is so important?’’ He gave a slight bow in the direction of each woman, then waited for an explanation.

Jasmine looked up in distaste. She didn’t always abhor his presence, but his forceful nature irritated her. Even now, he was in a hurry to be somewhere else, tending to business far more important than the needs of his fiancée. Getting to her feet, Jasmine held his gaze. ‘‘I’d like to attend a gathering in Cambridge on Tuesday, and Grandmother insisted I obtain your permission before accepting the invitation.’’

He smiled in that self-satisfying way that Jasmine had come to hate. ‘‘I can’t escort you on Tuesday. I have business that needs my attention.’’

He spoke slowly, enunciating each utterance as though she couldn’t possibly understand anything more complex than a two-syllable word.

Jasmine barely held her temper. ‘‘I’m not asking you to escort me. Nolan is attending and has agreed to act as an escort for Grandmother and me. I understand Lilly and Violet Cheever will be attending also. Fanny Longfellow has invited all of us to be guests at her home.’’

Bradley sat down on one of the benches and gave a wry grin.

‘‘Henry and Fanny are hosting another one of those literary gatherings, aren’t they?’’

Jasmine came to stand directly in front of him. ‘‘I believe that’s what Nolan said. I understand there will be various discussion groups. Nolan tells me that Nathaniel Hawthorne, Horace Greeley, and many others will all be in attendance.’’ She couldn’t contain her excitement.

‘‘And I’m sure Henry Longfellow will be in his glory with his erudite cronies surrounding him. As much as I don’t understand why you would want to make a tedious journey to hear pompous men profess their intellectual and philosophical beliefs, I don’t suppose it will do you any great harm.’’ He got to his feet. ‘‘Now, I really must get back to my business. You may walk me to the door, Jasmine.’’

She knew his words were a command, and under other circumstances she would have balked. However, he had granted her the permission she earnestly sought, so she submissively followed him to the entrance hall. After collecting his hat, Bradley turned and tenderly caressed her cheek. Instinctively, she moved back a step and hovered in the doorway.

Bradley’s eyes narrowed into an icy stare. ‘‘You should be favoring me with accolades. Instead, you withdraw from my touch. I’ll remember your thankful nature the next time you seek my agreement.’’

The slamming door shuddered in the wake of his anger. She’d made a mistake, but permitting him to stroke her cheek had been insufferable. His very touch repulsed her.

Nolan offered an arm to Jasmine and Alice Wainwright and escorted them to the carriage, one of them on either side of him.

‘‘I must say I was surprised to hear of Bradley’s accord. I expected him to recite the many arguments against your attendance. Did he not attempt to dissuade you at all?’’ Nolan asked. After helping the older woman into the carriage, he took Jasmine’s hand and assisted her up.

‘‘No. At first he thought I expected
him
to escort us, but once he realized his presence would not be required, he was most amenable to our attending.’’

Jasmine hadn’t informed her grandmother of the encounter with Bradley prior to his departure, and telling Nolan about it would certainly be reckless. Although she believed she could trust Nolan, there was no need taking undue risk. She’d already alienated Bradley with her behavior.

‘‘And what of Violet and Lilly Cheever? Have they decided to join us?’’

‘‘No. They had a conflict and send their regrets. I had tea with Violet yesterday and she said her father isn’t fond of the transcendentalist views espoused by those who frequent the gatherings at the Longfellows’ home. I’m afraid I appeared quite the fool as I didn’t realize you adhered to such beliefs.’’

‘‘I’m not a transcendentalist, and I certainly don’t count myself among those who believe God is immanent in man and that individual intuition is the highest source of knowledge. That kind of thinking has led such believers to place an optimistic emphasis on individualism and self-reliance. I believe in God and His ultimate authority. My faith and trust are in God, not myself. However, I do occasionally enter into debate with them. For I believe if I’m going to associate with these men, I have an obligation to speak God’s truth.’’

‘‘Good for you, Nolan,’’ Mrs. Wainwright said. ‘‘I’m glad you have the courage to express your beliefs.’’

‘‘Thank you, ma’am. However, I must admit that many times I would prefer to remain silent. Doing battle with that group of learned men makes me realize how David must have felt when he confronted Goliath.’’

Jasmine’s grandmother chuckled at his reply. ‘‘I’m sure you can hold your own with any of them.’’

‘‘I’d like to think so, but Bradley has always been much stronger in the skill of debate. He could certainly make some of them appear foolish if he had a mind to do so.’’

‘‘Are his Christian beliefs well-founded enough that he would challenge such men?’’ Jasmine inquired. She’d seen no evidence that her future husband esteemed any faith except that which he placed in himself.

Nolan’s gaze remained fixed upon the roadway. ‘‘He attends church regularly.’’

Jasmine gave him a sidelong glance. ‘‘Simply attending church doesn’t mean he’s a Christian. Is he truly a believer?’’

‘‘That’s a question you’ll need to ask Bradley. I don’t feel qualified to answer for another man’s salvation, even if he is my brother.’’

‘‘If I were to ask Bradley if
you
were a Christian, how would
he
answer?’’ Jasmine persisted, now certain he was avoiding her question.

Nolan gave her a lopsided grin. ‘‘I’d like to think he would speak in the affirmative, but then, I hope that is true of anyone who knows me. Although I’m not always successful, my goal is to make Christianity my life pattern. I want other people to see Christ in me rather than merely hear me advocate some vague philosophy.’’

‘‘And is that what your brother does? Practice religiosity?’’

He chuckled and shook his head. ‘‘I never said such a thing. You’re putting words in my mouth, Miss Wainwright. If you truly want to find out who Bradley is and what he believes, you’ve merely to ask him. In fact, now that the two of you are betrothed, it would seem prudent for the two of you to discuss these matters.’’

Jasmine smelled the heavy scent of pines as the carriage moved into the countryside. ‘‘I haven’t asked him because I fear his answers. Unfortunately, I know that no matter what he believes, I’ll be forced to marry him. Remaining ignorant somehow seems easier.’’

‘‘You must do what you believe best, but lack of preparation can sometimes prove fatal.’’

Jasmine leaned back and stared out the window of the coach, but the beauty of the passing countryside wouldn’t erase the ominous warning in Nolan’s earnest words.

Nolan motioned Jasmine from the circle of older women gathered in one corner of the room. ‘‘Come meet a few of these people,’’ he said, taking her by the arm.

They moved through the crowd, stopping in front of a wing-backed chair. ‘‘Jasmine, I’d like to introduce you to Horace Gree-ley,’’ Nolan said. ‘‘And, of course, you know Fanny Longfellow.’’

Jasmine dipped in a small curtsy. ‘‘It is a genuine pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greeley,’’ she said while attempting to hide her excitement.

‘‘My pleasure,’’ Horace replied. Before he could say anything further, Henry Longfellow grasped him by the elbow and pulled him off in another direction.

Jasmine turned her attention back to Mrs. Longfellow. ‘‘I do want to thank you, Mrs. Longfellow, for the gracious hospitality you’ve extended to Grandmother and me.’’

‘‘It’s my pleasure, Jasmine. And please, call me Fanny. Only Father refers to me as Frances and only
very
young children address me as Mrs. Longfellow. Now come sit with me and let’s get better acquainted.’’ She patted the cushion of a nearby chair.

Jasmine glanced toward Nolan. He said, ‘‘I’ll leave you ladies to become better acquainted while I join Henry and the other men for some stimulating conversation.’’

‘‘Isn’t Nolan quite a wonderful man? I’ve attempted to play cupid on several occasions but to no avail. He always tells me my choices have not been women that adhere to his beliefs. Probably because most of the people whom Henry and I befriend have become transcendentalists. Poor Nolan finds himself quite outnumbered in these gatherings. Unfortunately, there are few Episcopalians, Baptists, or Methodists who care to discuss topics that interest the rest of us—including Nolan. However, I’m pleased to see he has found a young lady who meets his requirements.’’

A warm blush colored Jasmine’s cheeks. ‘‘Nolan is my escort this evening. However, I am betrothed to his brother.’’

Fanny’s eyebrows arched. ‘‘Bradley?’’

‘‘Yes. Do you know him?’’

A vague smile played at the corner of Fanny’s lips. ‘‘Don’t think me impolite, but you’ll soon come to learn that all of us who attend these gatherings speak quite frankly to one another. I know Bradley better than I care to, and I must say that you seem more suited to Nolan than to his brother—both in age and disposition.

How did you and Bradley become acquainted?’’

‘‘Our marriage is a business arrangement between my father and Bradley. He is certainly not the man I would choose to wed.’’

Fanny nodded earnestly. ‘‘I thought not. Bradley has little in common with any of us, and he wouldn’t abide Henry or me were it not for my father’s position among the Boston Associates. I think Nolan is drawn to us as much because of our antislavery beliefs as our literary discussions. Bradley, however, aspires to be in the hierarchy of the Associates, but I’m certain you already know that.

Now, do tell me about yourself. You have an odd accent. Where do you call home, Jasmine?’’