Love Me With Fury (13 page)

“Out of her own goodness make the net,
That shall enmesh them all.”
—
Othello,
William Shakespeare

Philadelphia was marvelously exhilarating in early June. Lady Alexandria Hampton was thrilled and pleased by her visit to this unexpectedly magnificent city in this surprisingly civil and thriving country. She was constantly amazed at her friendly reception by the people in America; she had fully expected them to dislike her on sight because of her loyalty to England. Yet, she was anything but scorned by those amicable people whom she had come into contact with since her arrival two weeks before. The dinners and parties had delighted and enchanted her, as had this wonderful land. Discounting the few women who treated her as a threatening rival, her stay with her uncle had been enjoyable and enlightening.

After Henry Cowling’s party to introduce her to his circle of friends and acquaintances, she hadn’t been allowed a moment’s rest from invitations and sieges by eager young men. Feeling deliriously happy and desirable, she revelled in her femininity. What cloud could possibly darken this glorious trip and her heady adventure to what she had erroneously considered the
end of the earth?

Henry glanced down the lengthy table at her and lifted a quizzical brow, wondering at her suppressed giggles. “What butterfly flutters within you, my dear?” he genially teased his lovely niece. “That smile could light the darkest corner and your laughter could lift any dismal heart. I’m so glad you decided to come visit your lonely, old uncle,” he remarked.

“Henry Cowling, you sly fox,” she mirthfully chided him. “You’re anything but lonely or old. Isn’t it wonderful to be alive and well?” she commented, her vitality and youthful zeal sparkling within her enchanting eyes. “You were absolutely correct; America is a fantastic land. I can hardly wait to tell Papa all about my experiences here,” she excitedly told him. “There’s so much to see and do,” she stated.

“Ah, to be young and carefree again,” he sighed dramatically, then chuckled. “Once you’ve returned home and settled down, you’ll always remember these gay times,” he unwittingly ventured.

“Settled down! What a dire thought to dampen this happy occasion. I could live this blissful way forever,” she exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it be stimulating to seek new and different adventures every day for the rest of your life?” she dreamily suggested, a note of sadness entering her eyes and sending her previously elated spirits downward.

“Why do you talk in such a miserable way? You sound as if marriage is a prison,” he jested, failing to return a smile to her somber face. “You can’t go gallivanting around the countryside much longer,
Alex; it wouldn’t be proper.”

“You’re sounding more and more like Papa every day, Uncle Henry,” she rebuked him for spoiling her sunny mood with reminders of her imminent fate in the bonds of legal wedlock. “Why must I be chained to a marriage I do not want? My blood sings with wanderlust, Uncle Henry. I cannot bear the thought of being housed away in some country manor. It isn’t fair I was born a woman! I’d love to be a sailor and travel to distant ports. Besides, I’m still a young girl; there’s no rush to see me wed!”

“You’re far past being a young girl, Alex; you’re very much a woman, a beautiful and desirable woman. Why do you so despise the idea of marriage?” he seriously questioned, intrigued and dismayed by the wretched irritation lining her striking features.

Horrified, she caught herself before shouting back, “Because it wouldn’t be to a vital and interesting man like Stephen!” She flushed and glanced away from his probing gaze before saying, “If Papa would allow me to select my future husband, I wouldn’t be so rebellious! What happiness can lie in an arranged marriage? It’s humiliating and disgusting! I didn’t think Papa so cruel and selfish.” A mental image of Stephen flashed before her mind and annoyingly warmed her very soul.

“Now, now, Alex. You did say your father had given you some time to find a husband on your own,” he mildly corrected her. “Why, you’ve at least fifteen young lads pursuing you here, not to mention countless swains back home,” he reminded her of the
hot-blooded males who seized any chance to catch her eye.

“I want a man, Uncle Henry, not some foppish wastrel. You’d think at least one real man would come calling!”

“What about Daniel Grey or Seth Carter or Steven Hardy?” he argued.

At the mention of one particular name, she grimaced and wailed, “You call those men? Daniel has more appendages than an octopus! Seth sits under his father’s fat thumb! And Steven…Steven is boring to tears,” she issued her criticisms of each male suitor.

Henry laughed, then suggested, “Are you perhaps being too choosy or just plain stubborn, Alexandria Hampton? A perfect man doesn’t exist, child. If I were you, I would study each one carefully and select the best man among them,” he wisely hinted.

She sighed wearily and agreed, “You’re right, of course. But that doesn’t make marriage any more acceptable.” Naturally she couldn’t blurt out there was a perfect man around, near perfect anyway… Besides, Stephen was lost to her forever and it was best to put him completely out of mind.

In an attempt to alter this explosive and offensive subject, she asked, “How did your meeting go with Mister Clay? He certainly seemed piqued about something when he arrived this afternoon.”

Immediately Henry paled and looked down at his plate. He toyed with the roasted chicken before him. Alex watched him with rising intrigue. “Uncle Henry,
is there some problem with Mister Clay? You’ve been as nervous as a colt near a branding iron.”

Henry shifted apprehensively in his chair and sipped some red wine from a stemmed glass. “Nothing to worry your head over, Alex, just a business matter,” he stated, hoping to dismiss the topic.

“You have no dealings with Mister Clay, Uncle dear. What are you keeping from me?” she demanded softly, but seriously.

“That imagination is running wild, Alex. You best concentrate on choosing a husband before your time is up,” he suggested, yet his tone was strained and riddled with guilt about something.

“Look at me, Uncle Henry,” she gently commanded. “Your eyes and voice tell a different story from your words,” she refuted his casual excuse.

“A beautiful girl can’t fill her head with politics and business. We have to discuss our dinner party for next week,” he made another attempt to change the subject.

“Isn’t Mister Clay one of those Warhawks?” she unexpectedly asked.

Henry paled again and squirmed in his seat as he searched for an appropriate answer. His reaction told her a great deal. “Has he convinced his countrymen to go to war with us?” she inquired in a shaky voice, observing him closely.

His head jerked up; his expression betraying an affirmative reply. Yet, he teased, “Whyever would you think such a thing? War’s a nasty business. It
wouldn’t do to charge into it blindly.”

“I wouldn’t call discussing and planning it for months charging blindly and impulsively. How soon?” she asked, her knees quivering and her stomach knotting.

“How soon what?” he stalled as he desperately pondered an explanation.

“You know what I mean, Uncle Henry. Has war been declared yet?”

“No, Alex,” he replied honestly, but nervously.

“When?” she demanded succinctly, her eyes never leaving his ashen face.

“In a week they will meet to hear Madison’s suggestions and to vote,” he finally gave in to her demand to hear the truth.

Alex stared at him in disbelief. She had previously overheard talk of the dissatisfaction and dissension. It was actually coming to an open confrontation! What would happen at that June eighteenth meeting? She was in America and her father was in England. How could she get home if…She trembled and stammered, “I’ve…got to get…home before…they vote.” Aware of how lengthy and costly English wars could be, she knew she would be stranded in America once the decision was made.

“Leave here? Now?” he reasoned aloud. “You can’t, Alex. Sea travel is dangerous. There’s no way I could get you safely home before…”

“Before what, Uncle Henry?” she asked at his abrupt hesitation.

“There’s no way I could arrange passage before the eighteenth, Alex; that’s only four days from now,” he argued with the defiant girl.

“If you can’t or won’t, then I will! I refuse to remain here while your country wars against mine. It could be years before I could get home again. What about my father?” she wailed in panic.

“He knows I’ll see to your safety. I cannot allow you to sail under these perilous conditions. Besides, Tessa is still unable to travel. She’s been ill since your arrival,” he reminded her.

“Tessa’s only problem is a difficult pregnancy. She should have told me the truth before we sailed! Papa would have forced the groom to marry her. She can remain here until it’s safe to travel again, but I’m going home,” she willfully announced with fierce determination. “Even if I have to stow away, I’ll be on the next ship which sails for England.”

“Surely you jest, child!” he thundered at her, his nerves taut and his patience sorely tested.

“No, I do not jest. Before June eighteenth, I’ll be on my way home. Either you arrange it or I will,” she stubbornly refused to relent.

“But, Alex…”

She promptly cut him off. “Until you declare war, business on the high sea will continue as usual,” she debated.

“As usual, yes! There are pirates and privateers! There are English ships scouting the coast, dropping off spies in every port! It wouldn’t be safe or wise.
Please reconsider this wild idea,” he pleaded with her.

“Don’t you understand, Uncle Henry? It’s now or never!” she dramatically presented her case. “I have to sail before Congress meets. Surely there’s some acceptable ship who can take me aboard?”

“Your father will thrash both of us! Perhaps I could send word for him to join us here,” he suggested.

“Papa move to America? Don’t be absurd! I’m going home with or without your assistance,” she concluded, rising gracefully from the dinner table to head to her room to pack. She turned to say, “I’ll be packed by morning, and I’ll head to town to see about a ship.”

Henry shook his head in dismay. He couldn’t reveal the information he knew. When she learned the truth about her father, it would have to come from his own lips! “All right, Alex,” he called out as she was mounting the tall staircase. As she halted and looked down at him, he sighed and stated, “I’ll see what I can do. But I refuse to let you leave on any ship that doesn’t seem safe. Tessa can stay here with us.”

She smiled radiantly. She rushed down the steps and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Uncle Henry. I’m sorry, but I must go home.”

He smiled faintly and said, “I know, Alex. But if anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. If I can’t locate a proper ship and captain, I’ll lock you in your room to prevent any foolish behavior,” he warned.

She laughed and tweaked his plump cheek. “For once, I’ll be a good girl,” she teased merrily, her eyes
dancing with mischief. “I promise to be very careful.”

Once in her room, Alex had this same argument with Tessa. When nothing worked to change her young mistress’s mind, the maid sullenly helped Alex pack her belongings. “Ye Papa’s gonna be furious, Mum. He’ll flog me somethin’ terrible when he finds me,” she fearfully stated.

“Don’t be silly, Tessa. Papa knows how determined and headstrong I. can be. How could a sick maid stop me?” she teased the dimpled, squat servant of seventeen who was revealing her condition more and more every day. Even after a year of service, Tessa was still guarded and strange.

“You remain here with Uncle Henry and take good care of yourself. Once you come home, Papa will see that you’re legally wed to Timothy. Right after he thrashes him good and proper,” she impulsively added.

“No, Mum. You mustn’t get Timothy into trouble. ‘Tweren’t his fault. When them fires rage in ye body, they ain’t no putting them out,” she declared unwittingly, her face closed to Alex’s scrutiny.

When Alex halted her progress to stare at her, Tessa brazenly went on, “Ye wouldn’t be knowing about such things, Mum. But I tell ye the truth; when ye blood boils with passion, ain’t no controlling yeself. When Timothy holds me and kisses me, the whole world is wild and wonderful. Ever’thin’ spins and dances, and I only thinks about him and cooling the heat in me body. I’m a bad girl, Mum, for I kin not
fight the weakness of the flesh.” Tessa shamelessly locked gazes with the shocked girl she was trying to embarrass and spite.

I wouldn’t know about such things? Alex mentally echoed. If only I didn’t know exactly what you mean…

She looked at Tessa and modestly argued, “No, Tessa you aren’t a bad girl; just an impulsive and foolish one. I should think love would be that way. Besides, why should men have all the pleasure at such special moments? I daresay you are fortunate to have known such a unique and wonderful time. But marriage should come before such carnal pleasures. As you can see, there are punishments for wanton desires,” she teased, patting Tessa’s protruding stomach, refusing to expose her dismay and shock. “First the husband, then the romps in bed and babies. Agreed? No more dallying?” she demurely hinted.

“Yes, Mum,” she quickly and resentfully consented. “Ye be a joy to know, Miss Alex,” she deceitfully remarked, jealousy filling her heart and eyes. “How kin I ever thank ye?”

“Stay well and have a healthy baby. And no more fiery blood,” she couldn’t help but add with gay laughter to visibly reprimand this audacious servant who was much too brazen and defiant.

Not once during this conversation did Alex consider her own good fortune in remaining slim and unfettered by a fatherless child from her own wanton experience by the pond. Somehow, she never imagined
herself as being unwed and blossoming with a bastard child. To her disadvantage, her education in that vital area was sadly lacking…