Dream Weaver (14 page)

* * *

 
"There's a musical at
Fort
Pitt
this Saturday night," Rebecca told Gwen later in the day. "They usually have a ball on Saturday night, but a musical sounds like a pleasant change. Would you like to come along as our guest?"

"A musical!" Exciting! To see all the uniformed officers, dress up--"I don't have anything to wear." Gwen gave a helpless shake of her head. In her case, that age-old response was literally true.

"You can wear a silk gown I bought in
Philadelphia
a few years after my marriage. It's too small for me now," Rebecca said, contentedly patting her waist. "But it should fit you just fine."

"Rebecca, I couldn't wear a nice silk dress of yours."

"Why not? You might as well avail yourself of it. Daniel brought me a new gown on his most recent trip to
Philadelphia
, the most beautiful dress you can imagine--pale green silk with peach rosebuds. I must show it to you later."

Christian intruded on her thoughts again. Why couldn't she forget him? "Does anyone else from around here attend these events, like musicals and balls?"

"Only Daniel and I. You must realize we're far more fortunate than any other family for miles around. With Molly to help me, I have much more leisure time than most women around here. Other women barely have enough time to tend to the house and their children."

"I see," Gwen replied, properly chastened.

Rebecca clapped her hands. "Now then, let's see about my gown and what we must do to make it fit you properly. Oh, and a fan. I have one you can use."

"A fan." Gwen thought for a moment. "I don't think I'd know how to use one."

"'Twill take some practice. I'll show you. And by the way, you'll be obliged to wear stays. I have an extra one of those, too."

"Stays?" Gwen made a face. "Bet they're uncomfortable."

"I don't like them much, either. Truth to tell, I wear them very loosely at home and tighten them only for these balls. Daniel tells me the fashionable ladies of
Philadelphia
wear them very tightly all the time. Aye, even little girls."

"You're kidding!"

"Pardon me?"

"I mean, I find it difficult to believe." Gwen reminded herself to watch her language--again.

"'Tis true. But I don't think it's good for someone to wear them all the time, especially little girls. Enough talk. Let's see about your gown."

* * *

Outside the commandant's house, Gwen stood between Daniel and Rebecca, getting a good look at the spacious brick residence. On the grounds of
Fort
Pitt
next to the Flag Bastion, it sure was a lot bigger than her own house in the twenty-first century, she thought with a pang of nostalgia....

Inside the drawing room, scents and sounds became magnified, with so many red-coated officers and
Pennsylvania
belles gathered for the evening's entertainment. Dozens of beeswax candles flickered from brass chandeliers, revealing colorful silks and satins, sparkling jewels, and handsome officers in their red uniform coats.

Introductions and light talk followed, then they took their seats, Gwen between Daniel and Rebecca. She watched in fascination as two soldiers carried the oddest-looking instrument into the grand room, a third soldier following.

"They call this instrument an armonica," Daniel whispered to her. "I've never heard one played before."

"Neither have I," Gwen said in amazement, studying the strange contraption. Composed of a series of glass tumblers in graduated sizes, an iron rod spanning the center holes, it was attached to a wheel turned by a foot pedal, like a spinning wheel. The instrument reminded her of the times she'd made music on a wine glass as a kid. As if it were only yesterday, she remembered running her wet finger along the rim of a half-full wine glass. The memory brought a smile to her face.

She leaned back as the officer began to play, forgetting everything in the sweet tones of the music, its unusual, heavenly sound. She sighed, her hands folded in her lap.

During applause for the first composition--one she didn't recognize--Gwen looked around the room, her gaze absorbing the heavy draperies and brocade-covered chairs, the occasional table. Was this really happening? Was she really here in the eighteenth century, with all these distinguished-looking officers? And listening to music from another time?

"A remarkable contrivance," Rebecca said from her other side. "The music is so..." She pressed her finger to her cheek, frowning in thought.

"Ethereal," Gwen said. She smiled at her fancy language, yet that seemed as good as any word to describe the sweet sound of the music.

"Ethereal?" Rebecca smiled. "If you mean beautiful, I agree."

"One of Benjamin Franklin's inventions, I understand," Daniel said about a half-hour later as the last bit of applause faded away.

"Benjamin Franklin?" she asked in surprise.

Daniel nodded. "Surely you've heard of Franklin--a distinguished statesman and inventor, from this very province." He looked around as everyone rose from their chairs. "We shall have a brief respite now, then more music later." He smiled at her. "I've noticed all the men looking at you. I fear more than a few hearts may be broken tonight."

She smiled, rising from her chair and thinking she'd never enjoyed an evening such as this. Okay, so it wasn't a dance or a musical play, still its very dissimilarity made it that much more fun.

In a moment of reflection, she inhaled the faint scent of lavender that wafted from her clothes, but she missed her Escada. She smoothed her hand across the skirt of her luxurious silk gown, admiring how the pale blue material fell in graceful folds from her corseted waist, a hoop skirt underneath giving the gown added fullness. It was the most beautiful dress she'd ever worn, a serenade of whisper-soft silk with a layer of diaphanous gauze draped around her shoulders and gathered at the bosom with a silver brooch. Surreptitiously, she made extra swishing motions so she could hear the rustle of the silk.

 
But her stays were killing her. Aware the torture device would constrict her stomach, she'd eaten like a bird before leaving for
Fort
Pitt
. A lot of good that did her. The stays made no allowance for her breasts but pressed against her chest until she thought her boobs would pop out of the gown. She took a deep breath, reminding herself--as if she needed reminding--never to wear the Iron Maiden again.

Richard Shelbourne, a tall red-haired officer with pale skin whom she'd met earlier, approached her from across the room. She fidgeted with her ivory fan, not sure what to expect when she saw his solemn expression.

He stopped beside her and made a slight bow. "Pray come with me, Miss Emrys, so we may have more privacy to talk."

"Okay by me."

He shot her a puzzled look. "I beg your pardon?"

Oops! there she went again. "Just my funny way of talking."

"I see."

Richard led her to a spot away from the other guests. She fanned herself, thankful for the breeze that fluttered the brocade curtains and cooled her face.

As they stopped beside a window, she nodded toward an officer across the room. "I'm afraid I missed the name of your commandant. How silly of me, but I was introduced to so many men..."

"Simeon Ecuyer," the lieutenant said. "Captain Ecuyer."

Gwen raised her eyebrows. "Ecuyer? The name sounds French."

"Nay, madam...Swiss. He and Colonel Bouquet are both fine soldiers who have served the colonies well, and both are from
Switzerland
."

"Well, that explains their names." Resolved to act like a lady in colonial times, she collapsed her ivory fan and tapped it on his arm. "And you, sir? How do you like our fair
province
of
Pennsylvania
?"

"I'm liking it more and more," Richard said with a warm smile her way. "And if all the ladies are as pretty as you, I vow I'll stay and make my home in this province."

Gwen opened her fan to spread it in front of her face. "Sir, you flatter me so," she said, hoping she'd made a suitable reply. How did singles react to each other in this time period? "How kind you are to say such things."

 
Richard's look became serious. "I mean it, Miss Emrys, every word."

"Well, thank--" She stopped talking, chills racing down her back, faintness washing over her.

"Miss Emrys--"

Screams fractured the evening, Indian howls from the woods and cries of the wounded within the fort. Muskets roared from the parapets, punctuated by the cannons' booming. An attack!

Gwen pressed her hand to her pounding heart, looking around for a means of escape.

"I say, Miss Emrys, is something amiss?" Richard peered down at her, his brow wrinkled in concern.

"Oh!" Gwen glanced at all the people in the room and found everything and everyone the same, officers and their ladies talking and gossiping during this interlude. She laughed nervously. "Must be the heat. For a minute I thought--well, never mind."

"You must be thirsty on this warm night. How remiss of me." Richard placed his hand under her elbow and led her to a brocade-covered chair that stood against the wall. "Pray sit down and allow me to fetch you a glass of punch." After bestowing her a slight bow, he headed for a lace-topped table that held a crystal punch bowl and cups. Men and women gathered around there, conversing and sipping with self-assured gentility.

Sitting in a hoop skirt was definitely awkward, but after several shifts of her position, she managed. Her heart still pounded, but she tried to push her emotions aside so she could return to her former enjoyment of the evening.

With a deep breath and a faint smile, she aimed to present a picture of calm sophistication. A lot of other single women graced the ballroom tonight, and if she wasn't mistaken, a few engagements might result from this evening.

"Here we are." Richard handed her a glass of punch, then pulled up a chair next to her. "Are you from
Pittsburgh
, madam?"

"No--nay, sir. Farther east, close to
Fort
Ligonier
." Gwen smiled and sipped her lukewarm, overly sweet punch. "I miss city life," she said in dreamy recollection. The theaters, the opera and ballet, watching the Steelers play on a cold Sunday afternoon.

"City life? Then you're originally from
Philadelphia
, Miss Emrys?"

"I meant that I miss being able to visit the trading post where they have so many different things to buy." Gwen bit her lower lip to stifle a giggle, whether from nerves or her harmless joking, she wasn't sure. One thing she knew--it would be a long time before she forgot her recent vision.

"You really like to visit there?" Richard asked with a disparaging frown. "Then, madam, you would truly enjoy
Philadelphia
, with its many fine shops, not to mention its grand assemblies and other social activities."

"Sounds like fun." As a matter of fact, she'd never visited
Philadelphia
.

"Mayhap we have strayed from my original question," Richard said. "I meant to say that I should like to call on you, with your father's permission, of course. Pray give me your direction so that I may visit you at the earliest opportunity, that is, if you are agreeable."

My address? Sure. Just drive east on Route 30--that's the
Lincoln Highway
, you know, named for our sixteenth president... She fanned herself vigorously. "La, sir, I'm quite ignorant with directions. But if you'd ask that gentleman over there," she said, nodding toward Daniel, "he's my uh, guardian, since my parents are dead. I'm sure he could tell you how to get--uh, I mean he could give you my direction."

Richard beamed. "Then I shall certainly speak to him." He looked across the room as the officer prepared to play again. "Now, Miss Emrys, will you do me the honor of sitting next to me while we listen to the armonica once more?"

* * *

"What if I go with you on your medical rounds?" Gwen asked Christian a few days later, when he'd stopped by the Chamberlains. Ready to leave, he stood by the front door, his hand on the knob, his tricorne in his other hand.

He dropped his hand from the doorknob. "You wish to accompany me on my rounds?"

"If it's no trouble."

"No trouble, I assure you, but I fear 'twill bore you."

She smiled. "Bore? Not me. Might be a learning experience."

"Very well, then. Let me know when you're prepared to depart."

"I'm ready now."

A ride of several miles led them to a weathered cabin set among acres of rye and flax, the crops planted in uneven rows filled with weeds. Heaps of garbage nestled against the house; a broken table and remnants of benches littered the scraggly yard. A short distance from the cabin, Christian dismounted by a sprawling oak, then reached for her and set her on the ground. They exchanged glances, and as always, her heart pounded at his touch. She dropped her gaze, reluctant for him to see his effect on her.