Touch the Sun (5 page)

"Where is your maid? Call her so that we may take our leave."

He went outside to summon the coachman to help with the trunks and Meagan popped out from behind the highboy in the parlor. She wore a demure gray dress and matching pelisse, giggling softly with excitement as she pulled the hood over her black curls.

"What a marvelous adventure this is! I am looking forward to practicing this small deception on your self-assured fiancé!"

Priscilla was wild-eyed. "It will never work! He will know—"

"Not if you can manage to collect your wits and stop acting so guilty! Besides, what does it matter to him who your
maid
is so long as you have one?"

Lion came through the door then and Meagan immediately stared at her feet, assuming an attitude of meek subservience.

"I thought I told you to call your maid," he said sharply. "What trunks have you decided on?"

In her panic Priscilla pointed to two of them at random, then hurried over to Meagan's side. For a moment Meagan feared she might attempt to hide behind her. Lion stared at the two of them while the coachman carried out the cowhide trunks.

"What the devil is going on here? Where is your maid?"

"H-here," Priscilla gasped and Meagan wanted to pinch her.

He strode across the floor to peer at her, then drew off the hood on her pelisse. The long black hair spilled down her back and recognition sparked in Lion's eyes.

"It's you!" He turned to Priscilla, who shrank back against the paneled wall. "I've seen your maid this past week and I distinctly recall that her skin was a different color," he said caustically.

Meagan could see that her friend was on the verge of a teary confession so she impulsively stepped between them and smiled sweetly at Lion.

"Lily has lived at West Hills all her life, Captain Hampshire. Her family is here and Miss Wade is far too kindhearted to separate her from them. Whereas I—" she attempted a forlorn expression, "I am merely an orphaned waif who knows no life but service to my betters. Also, Mr. Wade thought that I might provide some small female companionship for Miss Wade. We are nearly the same age and it is sure to be difficult for her, moving north and beginning a new life among strangers..."

She knew that her speech had been excessive; no servant would ever be so bold, but since Priscilla was obviously incapable of acting her part, Meagan had no choice but to act it for her.

Lion was eyeing her suspiciously, but finally he let out a harsh sigh. "Something isn't right here, but I have neither the time nor the interest to sort it out. Half this day is wasted and we have a long journey ahead."

Once inside the richly upholstered carriage and with her betrothed riding outside, Priscilla seemed to relax.

Meagan was grinning as she bubbled inside with relief and her sense of victory. "Don't worry so, Priscilla," she laughed, "it will get easier from now on. Just try to keep your head!"

"I don't know why I ever let you talk me into this," she replied miserably. "He's going to find out and then we'll both be sent home! James will murder me and you'll be forced to go to Boston in the end and—"

"Oh, do stop it. No such thing will happen. You may believe that your Captain Hampshire is somehow superior to ordinary people, but I have complete confidence in my ability to outwit him. Besides, after we reach Philadelphia I'm sure I'll hit on a new course of action. I certainly do not intend to pass the rest of my days as your maid, you goose."

"But what about James? What will happen when he discovers that Lily hasn't come with me and the news of your disappearance reaches him?" Priscilla began to panic anew at this latest thought.

"I told Lily to inform James that Captain Hampshire decided there was not enough room for her and promised to find you a new maid in Philadelphia. As for me—no one would expect me to sit by and accept my fate in Boston, but James certainly would never guess that we could outmaneuver this nonpareil you are betrothed to." A fresh burst of laughter escaped Meagan's impish mouth, but Priscilla was not amused.

Barely an hour later Meagan's own confidence suffered its first shock when she realized that their carriage was approaching Mount Vernon. They ascended the hills on which the mansion stood and Priscilla gazed out the small window to admire the view. The entrance to the circular drive looked out over miles of surrounding countryside including the majestic two-mile-wide Potomac River which divided Virginia from Maryland. The water was still and bright in the afternoon sun, while all around were woods, cliffs, meadows, and neighboring plantations.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she sighed, turning to find a panic-stricken Meagan pulling at the loose tendrils of hair around her face.

"Dear God, Priscilla, you are both frightened and blissful at the wrong moments! Now is the time to be wild with terror, you ninny! He's taking us to Mount Vernon!"

Priscilla gazed back at her blankly. "Why, I shall be very pleased to see General and Mrs. Washington. After all, he is going to be the President soon—everyone says so. Perhaps Lion intends that we should lodge here tonight!"

"How can you be so dense?" Meagan cried. "The Washingtons
know
me! They have known me since I was a child! They were at my house just this past Christmas to offer their sympathies! What will I do?"

The question was purely rhetorical, for any advice Priscilla might offer would be worse than useless. As the carriage rolled up the long drive, Meagan decided she would be ill and suspected there would be no problem convincing Lion of this. Her face was chalk white and the look in her eyes could easily have been interpreted as pain. When Lion opened the door to the carriage, waiting for the coachman to put up the steps, he looked her over critically. Privately he thought that her conversion to female attire had done little to alter her disheveled appearance.

"Miss—ah—"

"Meagan!" Priscilla supplied immediately. Meagan felt like choking her again, for she had told her a dozen times that her new name was to be Eliza.

"Yes, well, Meagan, I'm going to ask that you remain in the carriage due to your—ah—state of disarray. We shouldn't be long, for I cannot spare much time. We shall pay our respects as speedily as possible."

Meagan watched as Lion helped Priscilla down the few steps to the ground, her heart thudding with relief. She noticed absently that they made a handsome couple; even the colors of their clothes, complexions, and hair were complementary. There was another coach ahead of theirs on the drive and Meagan recognized it as James Madison's. She had visited Montpelier many times with her parents and felt a fresh chill at the thought of his presence here.

By the time they had been inside half an hour, Meagan's uneasiness began to lessen. Mount Vernon in itself had a quieting effect on her. She knew that the Washingtons were contented in their home, and their love for it was reflected everywhere. Meagan was personally quite partial to the house, for it lacked the overt luxury of her parents' mansion. The perfect simplicity of the huge, white, red-roofed dwelling lent it an elegance that excessive ornamentation could never achieve, while the network of outbuildings which fanned out from the mansion had a clean charm all their own. She had spent many happy hours in her youth walking in the hanging wood which grew down to the river and riding through the surrounding meadows. It was common knowledge in Fairfax County that General Washington was heartsick at the thought of becoming President, and Meagan pitied him for having to leave his home again for the service of his country.

Her thoughts skipped back to Lion Hampshire and she wondered idly why a sea captain should be so interested in paying his respects to the future President, especially when the day was so far advanced. She vaguely recalled James Wade saying that Hampshire had been a delegate to the Constitutional Convention over which Meagan knew General Washington had presided. That seemed a partial answer, but she was still mulling it over curiously when the red front door opened and Nelly Custis appeared. Laughing, she tossed her brown curls and called to Washington, her younger brother, who followed her outside.

At ten and eight years of age, Martha Washington's grandchildren were delicately attractive and likable. As they ran onto the lawn, Meagan repressed an impulse to call to them and pulled her hood up around her face, sliding farther down into the seat. She watched, stomach knotting, as Martha Washington came through the door, arm in arm with Priscilla. The General's lady was several inches shorter than her companion, but her highly dressed white hair covered by a Belgian lace mobcap gave her added stature. She was wearing a simple pearl-gray silk gown with a large folded kerchief covering her shoulders and bosom, and the smile on her face was unquestionably sincere.

Several minutes passed before the men appeared, talking and gesturing enthusiastically. Meagan was astonished to see the animation in Lion Hampshire's expression. She was also surprised to see that he was slightly taller than the General, for all her life she had seen Washington tower over other men. Now there was a look of sad resignation in Washington's deep-set, gray-blue eyes and Meagan guessed they were discussing the Presidency. The gentle, black-clad James Madison had to tip his head back to see the faces of the other men as they talked, but in spite of his diminutive appearance and soft voice there was an aura of power about him. For years he had been part of the backbone of Virginia politics, but had only recently won the respect and fame due him by creating the structure of America's new Constitution with his Virginia Plan.

As the group neared the carriage, Meagan hunched over and pretended to search for something near her feet. Voices came right through the window to her and she felt sick with fear. At last the farewells were said, the sound of the well-known childhood voices sending a wave of melancholy over her that blotted out all other emotions. Pressing her face into the folds of her skirt, Meagan fought tears as she realized for the first time the upheaval her life was about to undergo. It was too late to turn back, but sadder still was the knowledge that there was nothing to turn back to.

The door beside her was pulled open then and Lion handed Priscilla in, eyeing Meagan in perplexity.

From her vantage point she could see all of their feet as they stood clustered on the drive: Martha's silk toes showing from under her skirts, Washington's high black boots, and Madison's silver-buckled shoes. In the distance, the children called to each other in high, happy voices. The door was pushed shut and there was a chorus of good-byes as the carriage rolled away toward the Potomac.

Chapter 5

It took several hours for the yellow post-chariot to travel the nine miles from Mount Vernon to Alexandria. The road was in terrible condition—an omen of worse things to come. They jounced over the rutted, muddy thoroughfare, stopping constantly to open and then close the gates which had been built to regulate the local pigs and cows.

Meagan said a prayer for the concealing darkness as they drew up outside the familiar Wise's Tavern. Lion was in poor humor over their progress and took it out on the tavern keeper, providing Meagan with the ideal distraction to slip away to her room. Priscilla joined Lion downstairs for supper, pleading illness as Meagan's excuse. After her fiancé disappeared into the barroom to smoke and drink with the other men, she went back to the kitchens to procure a tray of hot food for Meagan. Both girls were too tired to talk or worry and slept side by side in the feather bed until Lion rapped on the door the next morning.

"It's time to wake up!" he ordered. "Dress as hurriedly as you can. It will be a long day and we need an early start."

Meagan wondered at the harsh tone of his voice as she rubbed her eyes in the darkness and stumbled out of the deep, warm bed. Pausing at the window, she found the reason for his ill humor. It was sleeting. Large, wet frost flakes were falling thick and fast through the night sky, while the barest suspicion of light illuminated the rooftops of Alexandria's handsome brick houses. Meagan felt ill at the prospect of the day's travel ahead, and worse yet when she remembered Priscilla's childlike fear of bad weather. With a sigh she padded around to the other side of the bed and shook her awake, steeling herself for the long hours of fretful whining that lay ahead.

* * *

Several times during the few days that passed before they reached Baltimore, Meagan expected Lion to kill Priscilla with his bare hands. If the truth were known, she came close to doing it herself more than once.

Either snow or rain fell the entire way, and because of it Lion insisted on traveling from dawn to dusk in an effort to regain a portion of their lost hours. As it was, they had lost a full day by the time they reached Spurrier Tavern.

Even Meagan, who had known and tolerated Priscilla's childishness all her life, could scarcely believe that she could behave so badly. She worried and complained every mile of the way in a shrill voice, then whimpered pitifully every time someone spoke sharply to her. The situation wouldn't have grown so serious if Priscilla could have exerted some control over her emotions in Lion's presence, but she seemed to be even worse when he was within earshot.