Enchantress (20 page)

Thorn chose to ignore his stepmother and addressed himself to his father. “I cannot stay, since I have to see to the unloading of the
Victorious.
”

“Will you be staying at Stonehouse?” Wilhelmina asked.

“No. For now I will be on board the
Victorious.
”

His father’s eyes were seeking. “Will you be leaving me again?”

“No, Father. This time I have come home to stay. Already I have found a buyer for my cargo. I may even sell the
Victorious.
”

Benjamin’s eyes sparkled with relief. “Thank God. At last you can take over the running of Stoddard Hill. I am an old man, and I fear everything has fallen into disrepair without you in command.”

Thorn saw Wilhelmina’s eyes narrow with spite just before she smiled to hide her true feelings. “Yes,” she said. “Isn’t it good that your son has come home.”

Thorn tried to curb his impatience to leave. “We will talk of this later, Father.”

“Will you sell Stonehouse, Son?”

“No. I could not bring myself to do that.”

“I am glad.” Benjamin’s eyes softened. “Your mother loved that house. You know she was born there.”

“Yes, I had heard you say that.”

Wilhelmina turned away to hide her displeasure. She did not like it when her husband discussed Margaret, his saintly first wife. Lately Benjamin’s mind had begun to wander more and more to the past. She was often forced to listen to him talk of his first wife, and how wonderful everything had been when she was alive.

“I am sure you gentlemen will excuse me,” she said, moving out the door, her eyes on Thorn. “We would be heartbroken if you decided not to come home to live.”

Thorn’s eyes seemed to burn into her, and she caught her breath at the hatred she saw reflected there. She could not help noticing that he had grown into a self-assured man, and she trembled at the thought of his dark good looks.

She remembered with regret that he once loved her. If only she had not driven him away with her boldness, if only she had not married his father—if only she had been the innocent girl he had once thought her to be.

She looked at his firm mouth, now compressed with anger, remembering a time when those lips had burned into hers. Although he had been young that summer when they had kissed in her cousin’s garden, the memory still lingered with her. She had been with many men since, but Thorn had always been in her heart.

She moved out the door, feeling his coldness and knowing she would never win him back. It did not matter, she told herself, because something had to be done about Thorn or she would lose Stoddard Hill.

“Are you all right, Father?” Thorn asked in concern, observing his father’s trembling body and pale face.

“Now that I have seen you, I feel better than I have in years. I will recover if you are with me, Thorn,” his father said eagerly.

Thorn felt sadness settle on his shoulders. This was not the homecoming he had expected. “Shall I walk you to the house before I leave?”

“No. I spend most of my time here. This is where I brought your mother after we were married. Did I tell you that Thorn?”

“Yes, you have told me that.”

The old man moved to the bed and sat back. “I will just rest a bit. Will you come back tomorrow?”

Thorn towered over his father, feeling as if he were being pulling into a web. “If you like.”

“Yes, come back.” Suddenly Benjamin clasped Thorn’s hand. “Everything is going to be all right again, now that you are here.”

Thorn extracted his hand and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without a backward look, Thorn moved quickly out the door and hurried down the path.

Benjamin Stoddard was an old man whose mind was steeped in the past. Apparently his life with Wilhelmina was so unbearable that he preferred to dwell on the short time he had lived with his first wife. The one thing Thorn
could not understand was why his father had neglected Stoddard Hill.

Thorn had suspected that Wilhelmina would be waiting for him in the house, so he took the shortcut across the lawn, hoping to avoid her. The time would come when the two of them would clash, but that time was not now.

The last thing he wanted to do today was to talk to that woman. She had displayed no remorse for what she had done, and he knew not to trust her at all.

He questioned his reasons for coming home. Was this really what he wanted? Was there anything left for him here?

As he mounted his horse he thought of how old and tired his father was, and he knew he could not abandon him.

But did Thorn really want to battle Wilhelmina for Stoddard Hill? Yes, he would fight her, and he would win, he thought. He was determined not to let her defeat him this time.

Suddenly Thorn thought of soft green eyes and golden hair, and he kicked the horse in the flanks. For some reason he wanted to see Brittany.

Brittany was sunshine and a breath of cleansing air. She was what he needed tonight.

Since Achmed was still too ill to be up for long, Brittany insisted on nursing him herself. She had fed him a bowl of thick stew, pleased that he had eaten it all. Achmed had fallen asleep immediately afterward, leaving Brittany to amuse herself.

She walked about his room, examining every object several times. She had been to the stables and looked at the horses. She had taken a turn about the kitchen garden, trying to identify the herbs that grew there. She was bored and restless with so much time on her hands.

Brittany had written a letter to her grandmother in Philadelphia, and it had been posted three days ago. Now all she could do was wait for a reply.

She raised the window so Achmed would benefit from the cool breeze. Since he was sleeping so peacefully, she decided to return to the inn.

As Brittany entered the Green Gables, she thought of the lonely hours that stretched before her. Her foot was on the first step leading to her room when she glanced at the front door that seemed to beckon her. Since coming to Charleston, she had not been outside the inn other than to visit Achmed.

What would be the harm of taking a little stroll? she asked herself. Her heart was beating fast, and her hands were shaking as she moved to the door. She dared not look at the man behind the counter for fear he would try to prevent her from leaving the inn.

She had never been on her own before, and the thought
that she was free to make her own decisions was both exciting and forbidding.

Her hand closed around the doorknob; it turned slowly—she pulled backward and the door swung open. Her first step was the hardest, then she took another and then another. Closing the door behind her, she stood on the front porch, undecided what to do next.

It was a wonderful feeling to breath the air of freedom. There were people walking about, but they did not seem to pay the least attention to her.

Brittany saw a woman with black skin, whom she judged to be about her own age. Since the young woman was also unescorted, it gave Brittany the courage she needed to continue on her own.

She retied her bonnet before moving across the cobblestone street. How different these quiet, tree-lined streets were from the bustling and dirty streets of Constantinople. Here the air was clean, and there were no offensive odors. She paused beneath a tree to listen to the birds singing, and she thought her heart would burst with happiness.

She turned onto Meeting Street, where there were shops on both sides of the street. She smiled at a woman selling flowers and received a smile in return.

Pausing, she glanced in a shop window and saw many wondrous things displayed there. There were lamps, colorful blue-and-white dishes, copper pots and pans. Many of the objects were strange to her, and she could not imagine their use.

Moving on down the street, Brittany stopped before a ladies’ apparel shop. Taking her courage in hand, she entered the shop, only to be startled when a bell tinkled over the door. She was staring up at the bell when a woman approached her.

“What can I do for you, miss?”

Brittany smiled at the woman. “I was passing and saw your gowns in the window. They are lovely.”

The woman looked at the fashionably dressed girl. Her eyes fastened on the emerald necklace Brittany wore. “You
will find nothing as lovely as that gown you are wearing. I have been a seamstress long enough to know a Paris gown when I see one.”

“How clever of you to know that,” Brittany said, examining a turquoise shawl. “This is lovely.”

“Here,” the seamstress said, draping the shawl around Brittany’s shoulders. “This is a good color on you; it complements your eyes.”

Brittany removed the shawl and handed it to the woman. “I have no money.”

The woman smiled. “Are you new in Charleston?”

“Yes, I only arrived a week ago.”

“I hope you will like it here,” the woman said, sitting down to her sewing. “I can imagine that Charleston is going to like you very well.”

“Thank you, madame. I must be going now. It was lovely to talk to you.”

“Come in again,” the seamstress invited.

Brittany left the shop, thinking how wonderful these Americans were. They were friendly and open, and she was accustomed to living in a world of secrets and high walls.

She had made her way up the street, so she crossed and headed down the other side. The afternoon had turned hot, and Brittany stopped before a tea shop, where delicious smells were drifting in the air. She wished she had brought money with her, because her throat was dry and she longed for a cup of tea.

She felt someone behind her, and she turned to find a gentleman towering over her. His blond hair hung carelessly across his forehead, and he had a ready smile. “Pardon me, ma’am, but I have been observing you for some time. Are you lost?”

She smiled at him, thinking how kind he was to be concerned about her when she was a stranger to him. “Not at all. I believe I can retrace my steps with little trouble.”

“Allow me to introduce myself to you. I am Robert Devany.”

She offered him her hand. “I am a stranger in your city.”

Robert Devany could not believe his good fortune that the lovely creature neither turned her back on him nor accused him of being forward. “Well, lovely stranger, would you think it presumptuous on my part if I asked you to have a cup of tea with me?”

Her brow puckered, and she was thoughtful for a moment. “I think I should tell you that I have no money.”

He looked dumbfounded for a moment. “I would expect you to be my guest, of course.”

She beamed at him. “I like you Americans. You are so kind and generous.”

He was reeling from his good fortune. “Then you will have a cup of tea with me?”

Brittany looked over the young gentleman’s shoulder and saw Thorn Stoddard striding toward her. “Thorn,” she said, smiling, for she was happy to see him. “This is my new friend, Robert Devany, and you cannot guess at his kindness. He has invited me for a cup of tea.”

Thorn turned angry eyes on the man. “I just bet he did,” Thorn said, grasping Brittany’s hand and pulling her to his side. “I am afraid that Mr. Devany has other plans.” His eyes challenged the man to deny it. “Am I not right, Mr. Devany?”

“Are you her husband?”

“No. Let’s just say that I am the man who means to see that she does not fall into unscrupulous hands.”

Poor Robert Devany looked into icy-blue eyes and nodded. “Alas, he speaks the truth, ma’am. I do have a previous engagement.” He looked regretfully at Brittany. “I hope you like it here in Charleston.”

She watched Mr. Devany walk away quickly before she turned stormy eyes on Thorn. “You were rude to him, Thorn, and don’t deny it.”

Thorn watched the man until he turned the corner. “Surely you are not so gullible to believe all that man wanted from you was conversation over a cup of tea.”

“He was a gentleman, and I liked him. He knew I had no money, so he offered to pay.”

Thorn drew in a deep breath. He pulled her forward, his stride so long she had to run to keep up with him. “If you want tea,
I
will buy it for you.”

“I…do not want any now. I am angry with you, Thorn.”

He paused and looked at her. Innocence shone in her green eyes, and he could see that she was having a hard time trying to comprehend what had happened.

“Brittany, you must understand that a young, unmarried girl should not go about Charleston alone—and you should never speak to a man who has not been presented to you.”

She frowned. “Is that an American custom?”

“Yes. It is also the custom in all gently bred ladies in civilized nations.”

She shook her head. “I fear I will never learn all the rules.”

He spoke to her more kindly now. “You will in time, Brittany.”

“How did you find me?” she wanted to know.

“I called on you at the inn, and the clerk told me you had gone out alone. It was easy to find you after that.”

“You came to see me?”

“Yes, I wanted to know how you were faring. It is fortunate for you that I took an interest.”

He took her arm and led her to a waiting carriage, where Cappy was seated. Thorn helped her in beside Cappy and leaned forward and whispered something to the first mate. Then he spoke to Brittany. “I have decided it is no longer proper for you to stay alone at the Green Gables. Cappy will escort you to more suitable lodgings.”

She leaned forward and placed her hand on Thorn’s arm. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“No. I have other matters to attend to at the moment.”

She leaned back, and to hide her disappointment, pretended to be adjusting the lace on her sleeve. “Good day to you, Captain.”

He stood back and motioned for the driver to move on.

Brittany smiled at Cappy. “I fear I have committed a faux
pas, although I am not quite certain how. I am in disgrace with the captain.”

Cappy patted Brittany’s hand. “Not at all, miss. You just need a bit of looking after.”

It was late in the afternoon when the carriage pulled up to the inn. Achmed was made comfortable, propped against pillows, and then Cappy helped Brittany into the carriage and climbed in beside her.

As they pulled away from the Green Gables, she watched out the window as people scurried homeward for the evening meal. She looked at the houses they passed and wondered how the lives of the people who occupied the dwellings differed from hers. She had a strange feeling that she would like to belong here.

When they turned onto King Street, she took notice of the stately mansions they passed, and she blinked in astonishment when the carriage came to a halt before an ornate iron fence.

She turned bewildered eyes on Cappy when the driver leaped down to open the tall gate.

“Cappy, this is not an inn, is it? Where are you taking me?”

“Begging your pardon, miss, but the captain said I was to bring you to his house. I would have mentioned it, but I just figured he’d already told you.”

“I…no, he did not. Why has he asked you to bring me here?”

“The captain keeps most of his thoughts to himself, miss. But he did tell me to assure you that he would be staying in town at one of the seaside inns and not here at Stonehouse.”

“Stonehouse?”

“Yes, miss.”

When the carriage moved past the arched gate, Brittany caught sight of the stately European-style redbrick house that was set far back from the road. There were two separate wings to the house, but they were drawn together in harmony
by the fig vine that clung to the brick. A green rolling lawn swept down to a brick walkway, and the house had a commanding view of the Cooper River.

“How magnificent,” she said, turning shiny eyes to Cappy. “It is only right that Captain Stoddard should live in such a house.”

“Oh, this wasn’t the house where he grew up,” Cappy assured her. “Captain Stoddard inherited Stonehouse from his uncle, who also left him the
Victorious.
He grew up on a Low Country plantation called Stoddard Hill.”

Brittany held out her hand so Cappy could help her to the ground, then she watched as he aided Achmed.

She did not want to stay in Thorn’s house, but she had become dependent on him.

Here in America she could not find her way alone. And although Achmed had been a commanding figure in Simijin’s palace, here he was as lost as she was.

With a feeling of trepidation, she moved up the steps, knowing Thorn had decided to move her to Stonehouse after the incident that afternoon.

She had been afraid that Thorn had gone out of her life forever; now at least she might see him again since she was living under his roof.