A Heart for the Taking (16 page)

“Jonathan will not mind,” Ellen muttered, “he always seems to be just as happy in your presence as mine.”

“Oh, but that is not true. You know it is not.”

Ellen sniffed. “No, I do not. Not anymore. Richmond opened my eyes to many things.”

“But, Ellen, I cannot just . . . Can you not see that Jonathan will notice something is wrong? That he will notice you are avoiding him and are busily setting your cap for another man?” Fancy shot Ellen a look. “I mean, I am correct in assuming that you
are
going to avoid him—you are not going to try to hold both men captive to your charms, are you?”

“Of course not,” Ellen replied, affronted. “This is not some new parlor game to me, Fancy. I love Hugh Walker and all I am asking is for a little bit of time in which to make him fall in love with me. Is that so very much to ask?”

“Well, yes, it is, under the circumstances,” Fancy replied bluntly. “We are Jonathan’s
guests;
he thinks that you are going to marry him.”

Ellen shook her head. “No, if you remember correctly, you were the one who advised against any betrothal. The entire purpose of this trip was to make certain if we wanted to marry. And I, for one, have made up my mind. I do not want to marry Jonathan Walker.”

“Then the honorable thing for us to do is to tell Jonathan that information and remove ourselves immediately to Richmond.”

Ellen’s little face crumpled. “Oh, do not say such a thing! I will never see Hugh again if we do that. Won’t you please help me? Could you not just let things alone for a few days? Just let everyone believe what they want? Please?”

Fancy’s heart twisted at Ellen’s unhappy, pleading features. What harm would just a few days do? she asked herself reluctantly. And if it made Ellen happy? Eventually everything would have to be sorted out, and she was going
to have to apologize profusely to Jonathan and his mother, but in the meantime . . .

With great misgivings, Fancy finally said, “Very well, I will, er, let things alone for a few days.” She shook a finger at Ellen as her sister’s face miraculously cleared. “But you, miss, are going to have to handle Jonathan, and eventually you are going to have to tell him that you have changed your mind.”

Ellen flung her arms around Fancy’s neck, nearly oversetting her. “Oh, Fancy! I
knew
you would not fail me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most wonderful sister in the world.”

“And quite, quite mad, I am sure,” Fancy said tartly.

When Chance returned some time later, he found the women busy about a small fire and the inevitable johnnycakes, made from the last of their cornmeal and mixed with blackberries, baking in the ash at the edge of the flames. Lifting up the fat turkey he carried at his side, he said cheerfully, “Tonight we shall feast.”

He spoke the truth. Although it took the turkey a few hours to roast on the spit Chance had fashioned, with her first bite of the smoke-flavored flesh, Fancy agreed that it had been well worth the wait. Since there was no reason to hoard any of the food, they all gorged themselves, and for the first time since she had been captured, Fancy’s stomach was satisfyingly full.

Fancy was certain, after the stunning conversation with Ellen that afternoon, that she would spend the night tossing and turning. To her surprise, she did not. Her head had barely hit the ground before she fell into a deep sleep from which she did not stir until Ellen nudged her awake the next morning.

Everyone seemed in much higher spirits as they left the campsite; Chance even whistled merrily as they walked into the forests.

The terrain they now traversed was hilly in some places, gently rolling in others, all thickly wooded and alive with gurgling streams. They passed springs and little brooks
shaded by the spreading leaves of great sycamore trees and walked through groves of magnificent oaks and locust trees, with pecan and laurel trees scattered throughout. Later, they followed wide streams edged with willow and poplar, the ubiquitous grape and blackberry everywhere. They had been walking for several hours, and the sun was high in the sky, when they suddenly left the forest and stepped out onto a narrow path at the side of a huge tobacco field. Fancy blinked at the sight of the green tobacco plants, so abrupt was the change from the forest to the cultivated area.

The tobacco field was the first sign of the human hand upon the land, and as they walked along the red-clay path, Fancy glanced over her shoulder at Chance and asked, “Where are we? Do you know?”

Chance snorted. “Obviously you do not have much faith in my abilities. But yes, I do know where we are. In just a few minutes, the James River will come into view, and Walker Ridge with it.”

Chance was as true as his word. The tobacco field ended and there, on the small ridge that had given its name to the imposing house that sat upon it, was Walker Ridge. The James River, gleaming silver and blue, was in the distance. There were so many much smaller outbuildings near the main house and fanning out behind it that the area looked almost like a village. Fancy was startled by the unexpected sight of such a large community in the wilderness. As they approached the house, she could see beyond it to more huge tobacco fields, like the one they had crossed. To the left of the house, she spied an orchard, recognizing apple, plum, and pear trees. There was a formal garden in front of the tall H-shaped house of brick and wood in which roses bloomed wildly. Agrand sloping lawn, thickly dotted with pecan, willow, and oak trees, ran all the way down to the James River.

Their pace increased until they left the narrow path behind and reached the wide curving carriageway that circled the front of the house. Their approach had been spotted, and from several of the smaller buildings, people ran out and pointed. Fancy could hear the shouts of excitement. The
soaring doors of the main house were suddenly flung open and Jonathan and Sam Walker appeared, followed closely by Constance and an older lady who Fancy assumed was Sam’s wife, Letty.

With a great whoop, his handsome face alight with joy, Jonathan bounded across the broad porch and down the wide brick steps. Meeting them in the middle of the formal garden, the air heavy with the scent of the roses, Jonathan reached Fancy and swung her up into the air, saying delightedly, “My dear Fancy! We have been unable to sleep or eat, so consumed with worry about your fate have we been.”

Oblivious of the others, he pressed a kiss to Fancy’s cheek. “We had no idea whether you were alive or dead. You cannot imagine the terror we have endured.”

Embarrassed and uncomfortable, aware of Chance and Ellen on either side of her, Fancy was stiff in Jonathan’s arms. She wished heartily that she had never given her word to Ellen. Jonathan’s forward manner with her certainly lent credence to some of Ellen’s comments, and despite knowing that Ellen’s affections now lay in a different direction, she was angry for her sister.
If
Ellen had been in love with Jonathan, this unseemly display would have hurt her unbearably. Ruffled and out of sorts by the entire situation, Fancy stepped from Jonathan’s embrace, her mouth tightening with displeasure. Subterfuge was not her nature, and if it hadn’t been for Ellen . . . Jonathan was acting far,
far
too familiar! Sending him a cool look, she replied somewhat acidly, “Let me reassure you that your terror, while I am certain it was immense, was nothing, my dear man, to what Ellen and I experienced.”

T
he suite of rooms that Fancy and Ellen were shown to, on the second floor of the house, were luxurious. If she hadn’t known better, Fancy would have thought she was staying in a grand country estate in England. Both elegantly appointed bedchambers had their own lavishly furnished sitting rooms, as well as spacious dressing rooms. A door in each of the dressing rooms opened onto a short wide hall between the suites and gave the ladies private access to each other without having to traverse the main passageway of the house.

The summertime furnishings were evident, from the finely woven grass mat that lay upon the polished oak floor of the bedchamber, to the pale-yellow-and-white seersucker curtains that hung from the tall windows in the room Fancy had chosen for herself. The mahogany bed with its soaring post and canopy was swathed in a cream-colored filmy netting, and a silk coverlet printed with tiny yellow rosebuds lay atop the plump mattress. Ellen’s bedchamber was similar, except that pink and cream seemed to be the predominant color of the cloth furnishings.

Letty Walker had escorted the two women to their suite and shown them the arrangement of the rooms. She had smiled at them and, a twinkle in her eyes, had said kindly, “I
imagine that the very first thing both of you would like is a bath and a change of clothes.”

Fancy and Ellen had glanced down at what remained of their stained and bedraggled gowns and burst out laughing.

“Mrs. Walker, how did you guess?” Fancy asked, her face alight.

“Well, my dears, it happened that once when I was much younger,” Letty said easily, “Sam and I got lost in the forest. It was three days before we managed to find our way home again. I can tell you that the first thing I wanted was a bath and change of clothing. I assume the same would hold true for you. Am I correct?”

“Indeed you are,” Fancy replied. “Ellen and I have had dreams of doing nothing but soaking in a hot tub of water for at least a fortnight.”

Letty chuckled, a warm, inviting sound that added to her already charming manner. Fancy found her initial liking of Sam Walker’s wife increasing with every moment. Letty’s seventy-two years sat lightly upon her slim shoulders. Her sweet-natured face was framed by a cloud of soft white hair that owed nothing to powder. Her gray-blue eyes had been warm and welcoming when they had been introduced upon their unorthodox arrival several minutes ago. Fancy’s gratitude toward Sam’s wife had been immense when she had briskly swept the two younger women away from Constance’s embarrassingly fulsome welcome, stating calmly, “Yes, yes, Constance, I am sure that all of that is true, but I think our guests might like to refresh themselves and have a few moments of privacy right now, is that not so?”

Constance’s lips had thinned, but she had not demurred. They had then taken their leave from the gentlemen, and keeping up a gentle flow of conversation, Letty had graciously ushered Fancy and Ellen up the broad, curving staircase and shown them to their rooms.

“Well, I hope that we can persuade you not to linger in the tub quite
that
long,” Letty said teasingly. “As soon as I leave you, I intend to have a counsel with Cook and plan on presenting you this evening with a meal to tempt even the most
delicate appetite.” She chuckled again. “An easy task, I would think, considering what you have been eating.”

“Oh, Mrs. Walker, that sounds lovely, but please,
please
, nothing with blackberries,” Ellen said with a shy smile.

“No blackberries, I promise you, child.” Letty crossed to the dressing room in Fancy’s quarters and opened the door. “All of your trunks and belongings have been unpacked and hung in the armoires,” she said. “I do not know if we guessed correctly whose possessions were whose, but you will be able to sort things out. I have assigned a girl to each of you. Lady Merrivale, I believe that Ora will do very nicely for you.” Sending a smile to Ellen, she added, “Clover is a little young, only sixteen, but I think, Miss Merrivale, you will find that she is very cheerful and willing. If there is a problem, please let me know and I shall take care of it.” Letty took one more glance around the rooms, then said, “And now, before I make a nuisance of myself, I shall leave and see about getting those baths for you.”

Sinking into the warm lavender-scented water in the big brass tub in her dressing room some time later, Fancy was certain that she never wanted to move again. The tub was unusually deep and large, specially manufactured to Sam Walker’s measurements, she’d been told proudly by Ora. As she lay back and the soothing water lapped at her chin, Fancy gave a great sigh. After the fortnight or better that she had just spent, she would never again take for granted such a simple act as bathing.

Fortunately, the Walker household had more than one brass tub. Knowing that Ellen was experiencing the same pleasure she was and that there was no reason to rush, Fancy lingered over her bath, scrubbing her body and her hair numerous times. Only when the water, despite some hot additions by Ora, began to cool did she finally rise from the tub. After drying and a lavish use of some of her favorite dusting powder, she slipped into an amber-colored dressing gown and began idly to brush her long
clean
hair. Even this is a luxury, she thought ruefully, remembering the lank, untidy braid she had worn during their trek through the wilderness.

Setting down her silver-backed brush on the satinwood dressing table, she stifled a yawn, then wandered into the bedchamber. Ellen was just peeking her head around the connecting hallway door as Fancy entered the room.

Her face scrubbed and shining, her damp hair held back by a white silk ribbon, Ellen was wearing a pale blue dressing gown edged in blond Brussels lace. Her eyes meeting Fancy’s, she cried gaily, “Oh, Fancy! Wasn’t it bliss? Did you ever think a bath could feel so wonderful?”