“East Florida is a fine place for a new beginning.” Jamie walked beside Moberly around Bennington Pond, a long, narrow lake edged with cattails, ferns and weeping willows, and inhabited by swans and ducks watching over their hatchlings. In the distance, a man from the village sat in a rowboat and fished the black depths. “Marry Miss Kendall and come with me. Your brother Frederick would be pleased to see you, and there’s no end of possibilities for new businesses.” Even as he spoke, he questioned the wisdom of his invitation. Moberly never expressed any serious views on the Revolution other than to say it would be interesting to see how it all turned out. Yet Jamie felt God’s urging to encourage him.
“You are a true friend, Templeton.” Moberly found a rock and flung it sideways into the lake. It skipped several times across the water, scattering a group of ducks, who quacked in protest. “But Miss Kendall and I have decided the Lord would have us stay here. These past days, through her insights, I’ve come to realize my desire to go into the church was the misplaced zeal of a newly converted man. Thus, I shall have to find a way to support us before we can marry.” He exhaled a long sigh. “Of course, it will require another lengthy period of good behavior on my part so my next endeavor will meet with my father’s approval. In the meantime, I shall plumb the depths of my interests and talents to see if anything pops to the surface.”
“I understand.” Jamie nodded. “You know we’ll sail in just over a week. If you change your mind, I’ll give you a berth aboard the Fair Winds.” He found a smooth, flat stone, but once he threw it, it sank beneath the surface, much like his heart each time he thought about leaving Marianne. Up to now, his determination had held strong. Now that resolve wavered like the oak leaves fluttering in the wind on a branch above him. Somehow he must distract himself. “Tell me more about this garden party. Who’s coming? What do you do?” Since Bennington had come home, the evenings in the drawing room had become more than boring. He hoped the upcoming event would be a good diversion.
“You may have noticed Lady Bennington loves to throw a party.” Moberly chuckled, and his eyes lit with fondness. “This one began as a replacement for the annual Midsummer Eve festival, which of course is pagan in origin. Neither my stepmother nor Father could countenance such celebrations, yet they desired some sort of summer entertainment. They hit upon the idea of a garden party the week after Summer Solstice, so as to make a distinction. Theirs was to be decidedly more sedate—bowling, billiards, riding, grouse hunting, that sort of thing—an enjoyable way to gather like-minded friends for a week or so. They’ve hosted this event these past three and twenty years.”
“Ah, what a fine idea.” Jamie again considered the earl’s contradictory ways—faithful in his religion, generous to his friends and to charity, but cruel to his sons. “Christians can always find ways to enjoy themselves without participating in godless merrymaking.”
Moberly laughed ruefully. “I’m beginning to truly understand that...thanks to you.”
Jamie shrugged. “More thanks to the Lord, I’d say.” He looked across the lake toward the fisherman. “Any good fish out there?”
Moberly followed his gaze. “Sometimes. Want to give it a try?”
“I would. I haven’t been on water since March, a sorry thing for a sailor to admit.”
They found a rowboat and fishing equipment in the gray stone boathouse and rowed out to a likely spot. In the lazy quiet of the afternoon, both dozed beneath their wide-brimmed cocked hats, not minding in the least that no fish tugged on their lines to disturb their sleep.
Marianne threw herself into helping with the preparations for the garden party, as did everyone in the household. Mama spent a great deal of time with Cook planning a week’s worth of menus to serve the expected thirty-seven guests. The men practiced their marksmanship in anticipation of the grouse hunting. Servants scoured the house until not a spot of dust could be found, nor a scuff mark on the floors, nor a frayed edge on chairs or drapes. The guest wing was opened, furniture uncovered and linens aired. Mama assigned Marianne the duty of planning for the evening entertainment of the younger set.
Papa did not permit the hanging of bunting or evergreen bows, but he approved of flowers, as many as could be gathered to decorate the house. Marianne and Grace enlisted Jamie’s and Robert’s help and secured the use of a dogcart to bring wildflowers from the woodlands and fields, and blooms from Mama’s garden. The servants filled vases and scattered them around the manor, filling every room with delightful and varied fragrances. As much as Marianne loved Mama’s roses and carnations, her favorite flower was the sweet pea, imported from her maternal grandparents’ villa in Tuscany.
For all their enjoyment of Bennington House in London, it was Bennington Park the family claimed as home. And when Marianne considered all she was sacrificing for love, and how few days remained before she left, never to return, she found herself grieving the loss. But she had many more moments of giddy happiness—mixed with terror—over her own audacity. The ups and downs of her emotions left her exhausted at the end of each day.
In the evenings, she stared out of her bedchamber window, her gaze caressing the beloved countryside. She imagined her coming voyage and prayed she would not succumb to seasickness. She must secure some powdered ginger root from the kitchen. And, with a single small bag for all her possessions, she must decide what to take and what to leave. Some items she’d once considered treasures now proved to be foolish luxuries. She decided to take only two plain dresses. Would that she could ask Jamie which ones he preferred to see her wear.
But first she must get past the garden party. She drew out her volume of Shakespeare to design word games. In a moment of mad defiance, she considered presenting the elopement scene in A Midsummer Night’s Dream to tease Jamie or to give a hint to her parents of her plans. Papa could play his counterpart, the heartless Egeus, while she and Jamie were well suited to portray the fleeing lovers, Hermia and Lysander. She could hear Jamie repeating Lysander’s line, “‘The course of true love never did run smooth.’” But such foolishness would ruin her flight. In any event, Papa did not care for that particular play because of its pagan setting. Instead, he preferred the Bard’s histories, especially Henry V, which he likened to George II’s courageous leadership in fighting for England and making the throne secure for the House of Hanover.
As her musing continued, a startling thought occurred to her. Jamie had never asked her to marry him. Did he love her as Lysander loved Hermia—enough to risk his entire future for her? What if, when they were far out to sea and he found her aboard his ship, he brought her back home in disgrace? Papa might be hurt by her desertion, but he would be destroyed to see his only daughter behaving like certain infamous society women whose affairs he had widely condemned. Before Marianne ran away to sea like a boy longing to be a sailor, she must force from Jamie the truth about the depth of his feelings for her, even as she gave no hint that she planned to sneak aboard his ship.