Spring Fires (56 page)

Priscilla sniffed. "I will forgive your rudeness. It is probably due to the strain of your grief. Speaking of which... people are wondering what you intend to do now that your mama and papa are... gone." She sighed and shook her head mournfully.

Refilling her own teacup, Meagan dropped back into the wing chair. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Certainly you are aware that you cannot stay here... alone—"

"As a matter of fact, I am not aware of any such thing! I've been alone here most of my life. Besides, 'alone' is a rather academic word since there are more servants than I can count. Furthermore—" she gestured angrily with a tiny hand "—it happens to be no one's business but mine!"

"You are so silly. Do you expect everyone to just ignore you? A girl who has scarcely had her eighteenth birthday?"

"Yes!"

"Well, they won't. For your own good! You must begin to think of your future—a husband—"

"Mind your own business!"

"Meagan!" Priscilla's lovely face was flushed. "Even James has been worrying about you. He's suggested that you might come to West Hills after I am gone—"

"No!" She exploded, jumping up again. "Why can't everyone just leave me alone? Just because I have different ideas about life and happiness, I'm labeled a misfit!" She could feel the elegant paneled walls closing in. "I'm sorry. I know that I'm a miserable hostess, but this room drives me mad. I've got to finish my ride before the sun goes down."

Her anger had evaporated, but she emanated a brilliant energy as she impulsively leaned down to kiss Priscilla's cheek. "I'll have Flora send you some more tea and some cakes. Wish James a—successful trip."

With that, Meagan darted off to the kitchen, where she passed along the tea instructions to Flora. The old cook followed behind to the door, wiping her rough hands on the white length of her apron as she watched Meagan run across the garden.

"That chile is roundin' the corner," Flora muttered to herself. "I been afraid of what would happen when she's forced to grow up. My little laughin' baby... Is those tears of hers 'cause she's findin' out there's no place for her in this ugly world?"

Chapter 2

Franklin Court, like the rest of Philadelphia in late January, was veiled by plump, wet snowflakes. A half-dozen inches had accumulated on the ground with no end in sight, but inside the new three-story library wing, all was cozy. Benjamin Franklin was feeling better today and, having dressed, was sharing a cup of tea with his daughter.

The library reflected his personality even more than the rest of the house, serving as a showcase for his inventions, most of which were in constant use. Clean, even warmth beamed out from the latest Franklin fireplace; the arm-extender lay where it had been put just minutes before, used by the doctor to reach a book on the top shelf.

At eighty-three, he looked frail and thin yet as alert and confident as ever. The constant pain from his bladderstones had driven him to take large doses of laudanum, even opium, but he remained in control of his spirits. They were higher than ever today.

"Ah, Sally, this tea is just the thing! Be sure to have a full pot when Lion arrives. He'll need some warming up!"

"Tea?" she echoed doubtfully.

Her father laughed. "Gad, you are right! Is there brandy?"

"Waiting on a tray downstairs, Father."

"Good, good." He sipped his tea in silence for a moment, gazing intently at his middle-aged daughter. Children and hard work had aged her, but her fuzzy gray curls and white mobcap framed a face as kind and warm as any Franklin had known.

"You seem thoughtful," she commented. "You aren't in pain, are you? Do you want to lie down?"

"No, no! I was just thinking—about Lion. Do you remember the first night he came here?"

"Why... yes. Summer before last, wasn't it? I recall that it was raining and very warm and you were upstairs pedaling that treadle-fan—"

"Naked as a baby!" he supplied happily. "I'll never forget Lion's expression! You know, that was the first day of the Constitutional Convention. The thunderstorm kept me at home and Lion came along that night with the delegates who reported to me."

"That's right! I remember now that he became a delegate of sorts after that. It seemed odd at the time..."

"He had just returned from the Orient with a magnificent cargo. I really slipped him into that Convention before he knew what had happened, but it certainly turned out well. With my illness, he became an extra set of eyes and ears for me on the days I couldn't be there, and I'd wager that the experience had a lasting effect on him."

"Lion Hampshire?" Sally scoffed, rising to her feet. "Certainly the man is bewitching, but it has always been my impression that his interests lay more along the lines of adventure, women, and money!"

A cynical voice answered her from the doorway.

"My dear Mrs. Bache, I am devastated to hear your description of my character!"

Sally spun around, her rosy cheeks deepening to scarlet. "Lion, I—meant that in the best way—"

The man's looks were enough to tongue-tie any female, and Sally Bache was no exception. He seemed taller than ever, his shoulders broader, his skin more deeply tanned, and his tawny hair windblown. When he smiled, white teeth flashed and ocean-blue eyes sparkled. Sally watched him cross the room, the epitome of powerful grace, and her plump hand went cold as he lifted it to his lips.

"Mrs. Bache, I admire a woman with opinions. Do not back down now!"

She gulped. "Why, Lion, you know how fond we all are of you. It's wonderful to see you again. I hope your voyage was a success! I hope you have been eating. It looks as though you've lost weight..."

"The farther my ship got from Cathay, the less appealing that stored food became. However, I'm certain the problem could be corrected with a few of your celebrated meals."

She blushed again and Dr. Franklin spoke up from his chair, "Is my daughter so entrancing that you can spare neither a glance nor word for her sick old father?"

Lion laughed and Sally exclaimed, "I think I heard the children calling! I'll be back in a moment with your refreshment."

She hurried out of the library and Lion settled into a cozy red chair across from Franklin's. Leaning forward, he grasped the frail hands of his mentor. "I can't tell you how wonderful it feels to be home again and to see you up and about. How are you?"

It had been more than a year since Lion had left for Cathay and he was alarmed by Franklin's apparent deterioration. The wispy fringe of hair that brushed his shoulders was visibly thinner. So was the doctor himself. His back was bent, and chronic pain had etched hundreds of new lines in his face, but the warmth in his expression was undimmed.

"Right to the point, as always, eh? Well, I've been better. My body may be withering away, but I find that the energy in my mind remains undiminished. The conflict which ensues between my mental and physical abilities is mighty frustrating!" He paused as though to rest. "I can see how
you
are! You're looking splendid; the sea air must agree with you."

They conversed at length about Lion's experiences in China and the latest developments in America until Sally Bache returned with Lion's brandy. Apparently, there was some crisis involving Franklin's grandson Benny that she wished to discuss with her father, so Lion leaned back in his chair and let his thoughts wander.

Sipping the brandy reminded him of the enormous amount of the stuff he had bitterly consumed since his return to Philadelphia three days ago. How was he to tell Dr. Franklin what was
really
on his mind? It was the old man's fault, after all! Persuading him to attend the Constitutional Convention on a permanent basis... including him in the elite group that met almost nightly in the dining room at Franklin Court. Washington, Madison, Robert Morris, not to mention Franklin himself. It had turned out to be the sort of experience that left Lion with a craving for more, a burning desire to be one of these men whose brilliant minds and courage were shaping the new, idealistic nation of America. Day after day in the stiflingly hot East Room of the State House, Lion had been unaware of the changes taking place inside himself; he only knew that he loved every moment of debate, even the longest, most pompous speeches.

Yet, there had been no choice in his mind when the time came that autumn to return to the Orient. It never occurred to him that his experience that summer would have any permanent effect. He had always loved the sea. After fighting in the Revolutionary War and receiving a degree at Harvard, he had chosen the new China trade as a means to amass a fortune and lead an adventurous life at the same time. Where other ships seemed continually plagued by hostile men-of-war and destructive storms, he had found that as a captain he led a charmed life. Now, at thirty-two years of age, he was both wealthy and successful.

And satisfied... until this last voyage.

Setting down his glass, Lion looked up to find that Mrs. Bache had gone, and Dr. Franklin was watching him with a penetrating gaze.

"You seem pensive," the old statesman commented. "Is something bothering you? A woman?"

"God, no!" Lion replied vehemently. "Would that it were so simple! Do you really want to know? Are you certain?"

Franklin was taken aback by this outburst from a man who was usually so cool and cynical.

"Why, of course, if—"

"Then I'll tell you, and you can have a good laugh! I ran into a storm off Macao on my way home that delayed me so much that I missed the elections for the First Congress!"

Completely bewildered by now, Franklin inquired, "Should I understand what that means?"

"It means that I intended to return in time because I hoped for a seat in the Congress!"

"Am I hearing correctly? I could have sworn that you said—"

"Yes! It's all your fault, you know. I became addicted during the Convention! After a few months at sea, I was a man obsessed. Lord, how I longed to be back at the State House, listening to Madison discuss the Virginia Plan. I tell you, it's in my blood and now I've missed my chance! What are you going to do about it?" Lion was leaning forward, his shoulder muscles outlined against his tailored coat, eyes blazing.

"I?" Franklin echoed. "My dear boy, I do hope you have not directed, all your ferocious rage in
my
direction! I am an old man and very weak..." His eyes were twinkling, and Lion relaxed in spite of himself.

"Devil take it, I've got to blame someone."

"That's better. You know, this is quite a shock, though I must admit I suspected your interest even then. I did not, however, dream that it would reach such proportions!"

"Neither did I," Lion growled.

"At any rate, your frustration is not necessary. You would never have been elected anyway. That is not to say that the men who will make up the Congress are any better than you, for they are generally a sorry lot. I am simply afraid that you have too many strikes against you at this point in your life."

Lion's amazing blue eyes flashed. "Such as?"

"A well-known temper," he returned with bland amusement, lifting his eyebrows for emphasis. "Your age, your background, your marital status, your reputation as a womanizer and an adventurer—even your looks."

Lion raised a hand to his jaw. "My looks? What the hell is wrong with my looks?"

"Absolutely nothing, and that is the problem. You look too spectacular to have any serious intelligence."

"That's absurd!" he exploded, coming halfway out of his chair.

Franklin held up a veined hand, smiling. "I never said that I subscribe to the theory, my boy. Yet I fear that it is quite widely held. In your case, however, I would say that the other points I mentioned are more important. If you are serious about being a member of Congress, Lion, you will have to put in some time and build a name for yourself. Not that you don't have a name of sorts now, but..." He smiled at him, eyes dancing behind the gold-rimmed spectacles.

Lion sat back, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm not used to playing waiting games."

"It is not a simple thing to turn one's whole life around overnight. I realize that you are used to getting what you want, but my advice to you is to cultivate some patience and lay your plans carefully. However... there is one thing you might do to speed up the process of achieving respectability."

"What's that?"

"Take a wife."

Lion looked as if he'd been struck. For a moment, speech failed him, but finally he managed to choke, "What? You say that as if it is in the same category as ordering a new coat from the tailor!"

"It can be."

"Are you mad? A wife?
Me?"

Franklin merely reached for his teacup, arching a faded eyebrow in a way that told Lion he had never been more lucid.

Chapter 3