You Belong to My Heart (11 page)

“Dear Lord, this can’t be happening! You’ve gone mad! You don’t know what you’re saying, you don’t, you don’t!”

“I do, darling. That callous bastard held up his whiskey glass as if he were proposing a toast to the future, then said to me, and I quote, ‘It’s time you and I level with each other, Preble. You don’t want me for a son-in-law and I’m not thrilled with the notion of having you for a father-in-law. Help me get what I
really
want.’ To which I said, ‘Good God, man, you mean Mary Ellen is not what you really want?’”

Her eyes as round as saucers, disbelief and hurt flashing from their dark depths, Mary Ellen gasped, “Clay doesn’t want me, Papa?”

Again John Thomas shook his head sadly. “That lowly seamstress’s son smiled smugly at me and said, ‘I’ve tolerated Mary for years. Get me an appointment to Annapolis and I’ll hand your precious daughter back to you.’”

“No…No…” Mary Ellen shook her head violently, choking on the lump forming in her throat, bright tears stinging her eyes. “No. Clay would never say that. He wouldn’t do that. I know he wouldn’t. He loves me.” Her voice lifted, was shrill. “Clay loves me!”

Her father again put his comforting arms around his distraught daughter and said soothingly, “I’m as shocked as you, sweetheart. Of course, I knew—we both knew—how much he wants to go to the academy. But, my God, I never dreamed he would…” Patting her trembling back, he said, “Mary Ellen, darling, unfortunately those of the lower classes prey on people like us. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do, nothing.”

Mary Ellen sobbed heartbrokenly, “Clay’s not like that…He wouldn’t—”

Interrupting, her father said, “Have I ever lied to you?”

Ignoring the question, she said, “If he had said those horrible things, you wouldn’t have allowed him to stay and—”

“I did that for your sake. In fact, I commanded Knight to stay for dinner just as if nothing had happened. I made him swear he would say nothing to you about any of it.” He hugged her closer to his chest. “I didn’t want that black-hearted son of a bitch to be the one to tell you all this.”

“No…No!” she sobbed, refusing to believe. “Clay wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t have held me in his arms and stayed…”

“He didn’t stay long. I heard you come in,” said her father. “Didn’t he make excuses to leave early?”

Confused, hurt, Mary Ellen thought back to their final moments together. She had tried to get Clay to stay. But he’d gone. For no good reason, he had left her. Had he been anxious to get away from her?

Suddenly she remembered the faint taste of liquor in his kiss. She’d never known him to drink before. Had he needed a drink to propose his ungodly bargain? Had he known, as he kissed her good night, that he was kissing her good-bye?

“I’ll ask you again, dear. Have I ever lied to you?” John Thomas said softly.

“No, but—”

“And I never will. There, there, my precious baby girl, your papa will take care of you.”

J
OHN THOMAS PREBLE TOOK
a seat in his tall-backed desk chair. He drew his weeping daughter onto his lap and held her while she cried. He rocked her just as he had when she was a child, and he cooed to her and promised he would make everything all right again.

When finally Mary Ellen had cried herself out and was so totally exhausted that she went limp against him, the powerful master of Longwood rose from his chair and carried his pale, heartsick daughter upstairs to her room.

Gently he laid her atop the high, soft featherbed and murmured, “Rest now, dear. Sleep. Sleep, my baby, and when you awaken your papa will have put an end to this terrible nightmare.”

Knowing she wouldn’t sleep, feeling as if she would never sleep again, Mary Ellen closed her puffy, red-rimmed eyes. She wanted her father to leave. She wanted to be alone. Alone with her grief.

Hoping his beloved child had cried so long and so hard she would soon be dozing peacefully, John Thomas kissed Mary Ellen’s smooth forehead, tiptoed from the room, and quietly closed the door.

Outside in the corridor, he exhaled deeply, then went in search of his wife.

“It’s done,” he told the worried Julie, ushering her into his book-lined library and closing the door. “Clayton Knight’s on his way to Baltimore, and in a couple of days you and Mary Ellen will be on your way to New York and then on to England.”

“How did she take it, John?” asked his troubled wife.

John Thomas Preble shrugged negligently. “As you would expect a starry-eyed, trusting young girl to take the betrayal of her sweetheart. At the moment Mary Ellen is devastated, but that won’t last.” He smiled confidently and touched his wife’s cheek. “A month from now she will have forgotten all about Clayton Knight.” His smile broadened when he added, “She’ll be the blushing bride of Daniel Lawton and honeymooning happily in the sunny South of France.”

Skeptical, Julie Preble said, “I don’t know, John. She’s truly fond of Clay. They’ve been soulmates since they were small children.” She paused a moment, then said, “Besides, how you can be sure Daniel Lawton will want to marry Mary Ellen?”

“Now, Julie, you know very well I see Lawton’s father regularly at my club. The two of us have often discussed the attractive prospect of our offspring marrying. James Lawton is just as anxious to have Mary Ellen for his daughter-in-law as we are to have young Daniel for our son-in-law.”

“I understand that, dear, but what about the children? Daniel’s been seeing Brandy Templeton off and on for the past two years, and he might not—”

“I foresee no real problems. Daniel hasn’t exactly been
seeing
that Templeton girl in the way you mean. He’s been sleeping with her, dear. Lawton Sr. assured me the boy has never had any intention of marrying her.” Smiling, he added, “I’ve caught the way young Lawton looks at our Mary Ellen. He has wanted her since the moment she became a woman. He’ll jump at the chance to marry her, mark my words. As for Mary Ellen, after what Knight’s done to her, she’ll be extremely vulnerable. If Daniel is around—which he will be—she’ll naturally turn to him for comfort.” John Thomas snapped his fingers loudly and smiled. “Before you know it, she’ll be in love again and safely married.”

Julie Preble nodded. It made sense. And it was for the best. Of that she was certain. Poor Mary Ellen was suffering now, but she was young. She’d get over Clay Knight. And she would have a much happier life with Daniel Lawton than she’d have ever had with Clay. Clay was a sweet young man, but he could never fit in with their circle of friends. It really wouldn’t be fair to poor Clay to subject him to that kind of cruel snobbery.

John Thomas circled his mahogany desk, took a thick packet from the middle drawer. “Here’s the itinerary for your trip,” he said, handing it to her.

Julie took the packet as John Thomas counted off the items on his fingers. “One, you and Mary Ellen will leave Memphis Tuesday morning. Two, when you reach New York, you will board the Cunard liner SS
Oceana.
Three, when you arrive in London you will check into the Cannaught. Four, a couple of days later the Lawtons show up in London and check into the Cannaught, where they will naturally bump into you and Mary Ellen. Five, after a few days the Lawtons will invite the two of you to board a chartered yacht and accompany them to their villa in Monte Carlo.”

“And you will meet us there in Monaco,” said Julie.

John Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Just in time to give my beautiful daughter away at her wedding.”

Two weeks after a grieving Mary Ellen and Julie Preble stepped onto a steamer in New Orleans for the journey to New York to board an oceangoing vessel, a jubilant Clay Knight stepped off the steamer
Dixie Star
at the Memphis levee.

He was eager to get to Longwood and Mary. He had exciting news to share with her. He could hardly wait to see her lovely face when he told her he had been accepted at Annapolis. His long-held dream had come true! He would be a plebe midshipman in the autumn, and when he graduated from the academy, they would be married. She would one day be the proud wife of a naval Captain!

Valise in hand, Clay hurried down the gangway to the busy wharf. Dodging waiting riverboat passengers and sweating dock workers and huge bales of cotton, he weaved his way through the crowd and eagerly climbed the Chickasaw cliffs.

He ran all the way to Longwood and was so out of breath once he got there, he had to lean for a moment against a tall white porch column to collect himself.

His breath finally regained, he knocked on the front door and waited anxiously, the smile on his face as bright as the afternoon sun. Heart beating fast with anticipation, he hoped it would be Mary who answered the door.

It was Titus who let him in.

“Hello to you, Titus,” Clay said cheerily. “Is Mary around?” He automatically looked up the grand staircase, expecting to see her come flying down to greet him.

The old Preble house servant looked grave. Unsmiling, he said, “Mast’ Preble waitin’ for you in his study, Mist’ Clay. If you jes’ follow me, please.”

Clay’s bright smile slipped a little. Nervously he asked, “Mr. Preble is waiting for me? Why is he here at Longwood in the middle of the day?”

Titus gave no reply. Clay followed the uniformed butler down the silent corridor, puzzled, a feeling of uneasiness settling over him. They reached the open study door. Titus left him, turning away quickly, avoiding Clay’s eyes.

“Come in, son,” came John Thomas Preble’s low voice from inside the shadowy study.

Clay felt a hint of a chill skip up his spine. He drew a shallow breath and walked into the book-lined study. He squinted in the pervasive dimness. He found it strange that all the curtains were pulled against the afternoon sun and the tall double doors behind John Thomas’s massive desk were closed. The room was overwarm, and it was stuffy.

John Thomas Preble was seated behind his mahogany desk. He came slowly to his feet when Clay walked in.

“Clay, Clay, my boy,” John Thomas said, his tone clearly revealing that something was wrong.

“Mr. Preble,” Clay said, alarmed, “what it is? Are you ill, sir? Has something happened? Why are you shut up here in the shadows?”

“Forgive me for that,” John Thomas said wearily. “I guess I was feeling so bad I just—” He stopped speaking.

He sighed, crossed to a set of tall windows, and drew the heavy damask curtains, flooding the room with bright sunlight. It was then Clay saw that the older man’s gray-streaked dark hair was badly disheveled, that his lower face was covered with a couple of days’ growth of beard. He looked haggard and very tired.

“Oh, God, no,” Clay murmured, fear clutching his heart. “Mary? Something’s happened to Mary! She’s fallen ill. She’s been hurt. She’s…she’s…No, God, no…”

Shaking his head, John Thomas said, “She isn’t ill. She hasn’t been hurt.” He paused. A muscle jumped in his cheek. “But I’m afraid you are going to be badly hurt, son.”

Clay stared, dumbfounded, at the older, shorter man. “I don’t understand. What are you saying? Where is Mary? Why isn’t she—”

“Mary Ellen is gone, Clay,” said John Thomas. Gesturing, he added, “You better sit down.”

“I’ll stand,” Clay said firmly. “Where is Mary? When is she coming back?”

“I just don’t know how to tell you this,” said John Thomas, running both hands through his ruffled, silver-streaked hair. “It’s so hard for a father to admit that his only daughter is a…a very foolish, fickle little…heartbreaker.”

“Mary? A heartbreaker? What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“Christ, this is terrible, terrible! Clay, I’m afraid that the impetuous Mary Ellen let no moss grow under her dancing slippers while you were away.” John Thomas covered his eyes with a hand, gritted his teeth. “Son, I’m ashamed of my own daughter, so help me God.” His hand came down, and he looked Clay squarely in the eye. “As soon as I told Mary Ellen you were to be gone for a couple of weeks, she ups and invites Daniel Lawton over for dinner. Can you believe it? The very first night you were gone, she was…they were…Can you imagine?”

His tight face showing his puzzlement and disbelief, Clay said simply, “No, sir. No, I can’t. I
don’t
believe it. There must be a reasonable explanation. Mary would never entertain someone else when she’s…she’s—”

“When she’s been sleeping with you for more than a year,” the older man interrupted. Smiling sourly then, he added, “Well, neither would I, but there you have it. It’s your own fault, Knight. You turned her out at such a tender age, she knows no better. Bedding my baby, you…you—!” He stopped speaking, but his dark eyes flashed with condemnation.

Clay’s tanned jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he said nothing.

“I’m sorry.” John Thomas’s expression softened immediately. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper, but I’m as upset as you. She’s my daughter, she’s behaving abominably, so I guess I lashed out at you because I so badly want to blame someone else. Anyone else.” Preble moved to a crystal decanter of liquor. Pouring whiskey into a couple of shot glasses, his back to Clay, he said, “Mary Ellen fell right into Lawton’s arms, and it must have been love at first kiss. They’ve sailed to Europe to be married on the French Riviera. They’ll honeymoon there in the Lawtons’ villa overlooking the Mediterranean.”

Clay’s tanned face paled, and his heart squeezed so painfully in his chest he was afraid he might pass out. “No. No, that can’t be,” he said, and his voice sounded hollow, foreign even to himself. “Mary loves me, she wouldn’t—”

“Apparently she would.” John Thomas turned to face him. “We tried to talk her out of it, but her mind was made up.”

Thinking out loud, Clay muttered, “I have to talk to her, to see what really happened. To find out why—”

“That’s out of the question, I’m afraid. She’s with Daniel Lawton, and they’re already inseparable. I realize that Mary Ellen has acted rashly and that you’ve been hurt by her heartless betrayal. But you’ll get over it. You’ll get over
her.
You’re an intelligent, likable, handsome young man, and there’ll be an abundance of beautiful women in a young naval officer’s life.” Finally John Thomas smiled.