“It would seem dreadfully scandalous,” Miss Porter said. “But in truth, it would be completely innocent.” The young heiress, Marianne’s friend, sat primly in her chair, but her eyes were filled with mischief.
“Oh, dear.” Marianne pretended shock. “My papa will be livid. The whole purpose of having Mama’s garden party the week after Midsummer Eve is to avoid any association with pagan revelries, most of which take place in the middle of the night.” Seated in the upstairs parlor with the younger, unmarried guests, she hoped no one would discover this entire game was her idea and Miss Porter her unwitting partner.
“Pagan revelries, ha,” said Mr. Smythe, who everyone knew aspired to win Miss Porter’s hand. “My father will think nothing of it. He has told me about some of his own youthful pranks, and this will be nothing compared to them. I rather think the old boy wants me to do something delightfully silly so he can brag about it to his friends.”
“But is it fair to spoil the villagers’ festivities?” Marianne looked at Robert, hoping he would contradict her. “Their summer fair takes place this Wednesday, and their feast is in the evening.”
“I do not see that it would spoil anything at all,” her brother said. “’Tis a grand idea, a treasure hunt in the forest between here and the village. We will not disturb their merrymaking.” He frowned and puckered his lips thoughtfully. “However, to maintain propriety, the ladies must go in twos or threes, with at least one gentleman as an escort.”
Marianne’s heart sank. If she was required to have a partner and an escort, how could she make her escape?
“I say, what a good idea.” Mr. Smythe nodded with enthusiasm. “We can have teams.”
Others chimed in with suggestions that came near to ruining Marianne’s plan, and she scrambled to think how to amend it. “Very well. Since my brother gives his approval, I, too, shall play. But should we not wear masks?” She eyed Miss Porter’s blue gown. Perhaps her friend would trade clothes with her. “Part of the fun can be not knowing who our fellow players are.”
Everyone shouted agreement, and someone found pen, ink and vellum and began a list of the rules. With great care, Marianne added a few more ideas, all the while plotting her very different course. The treasure would be divided in many parts, and every item must be found before the hunt was declared over. Surely that would last until dawn. Some time before midnight, dressed as Miss Porter, she would whisper to someone that she had grown tired and would return to her room. After a night of games, none of the younger set would be expected to rise until afternoon. With Jamie sailing just after sunrise, no one would miss her until too late.
Excitement filled her chest and made her breathless. Now she had only to enlist Emma’s help, and her plan would succeed.
“I say, Moberly,” Mr. Smythe said to Robert, “too bad your brother and Captain Templeton will be gone by then. They seem the sort of chaps who would enjoy such a romp.”
Marianne smothered a gasp. She had not heard that Thomas would sail so soon, but this was all the better. Now, if Papa suspected her of going off with Jamie, Thomas could not pursue them. On the other hand, how else could she disappear other than to go with Jamie? Only one idea came to mind.
“Yes, it would be good to have extra men, for one never knows when the gypsies will return to the forest.” She put on a worried frown. “Do be on the lookout, all of you.”
Had she thought of every detail? Would something else come up to prevent her flight? Frequent twinges of guilt had struck her in the past few days, as if she had devised something evil, so Marianne had left off praying about her plan. Yet she could not help but think that God was directing her every step of the way.
“Flying Bennington’s flag should keep you from unpleasant encounters with His Majesty’s ships.” Thomas Moberly, dressed in the full regalia of a British naval captain, stood with Jamie while the rest of the family began to gather in the entrance hallway. “If some officious fellow accosts you, you must use my father’s name and mine and the letters we provided. But if you follow the heading I charted for you, you should reach East Florida without difficulty.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jamie forced a calm smile. If this man knew of the hundreds of muskets and the ammunition hidden in the Fair Winds’ secret hold, or if he knew Jamie would sail to Boston to deliver them before returning to East Florida, he would sink the ship before she reached the open seas.
“How many guns do you have?” Captain Moberly’s dark eyebrows bent into a frown.
Jamie coughed to cover his shock. “Guns?” Had this man read his mind?
Captain Moberly snickered and chided him with a friendly shake of his head. “Cannons, man.” He clapped Jamie on the shoulder. “Surely you do not sail unarmed when the seas are filled with pirates and privateers who are eager to seize your cargo.”
Jamie shrugged and huffed out a sigh, trying to hide his relief by sounding annoyed. “Ah, yes, the bane of every merchant captain. I have ten six-pounders—five port, five starboard—a twelve-pounder at the bow, and a crew that knows how to use them, sir.”
“Hmm. I suppose that will have to do. ’Tis better than none at all.” Thomas leaned closer. “You will be pleased to know that Governor Tonyn has been granted an admiralty commission and is issuing letters of marque to a dozen or more Loyalist sloops to protect the St. Johns River and the inland passage from Georgia.” A measure of controlled anticipation filled his eyes. “A former Royal Navy officer, Captain Mowbray, has been contracted to lead the waterborne defense. This will deter the rebels from invading East Florida. In fact, on your next voyage, no doubt Tonyn will commission you to carry naval stores to the area. What do you think of that?” Patriotic pride shone from the captain’s eyes. “We’ll rout those scoundrels soon enough and put an end to this rebel nonsense.”
“Very good, sir.” During Captain Moberly’s little speech, Jamie somehow managed to maintain his calm. This was the very information he needed to complete his mission. Now the Patriots would know what they were up against—that Tonyn had the orders, power and means to fully prosecute the war in East Florida—and could plan their assault accordingly. “And I’ll deliver these letters to Governor Tonyn and tell your brother Frederick all you’ve said.” Jamie sent up a prayer of thanks and contrition. He should have known the Lord would supply everything he needed to complete his mission for General Washington. Once again he knew without doubt God was on the Patriots’ side.
While Marianne and the others clustered around Captain Moberly, Jamie played the part of a servant, bowing away to leave the family to their private adieus. Strange how he had grown used to effecting such poses, except when he and Marianne, Robert and Miss Kendall, had gone beyond sight of the manor house. But soon he could fully straighten his shoulders and once again be the captain of his own ship, an American Patriot answering only to God, conscience and the Continental Congress, with fealty not to a feudal-like lord but to a new nation of free men.
That afternoon, Jamie, Marianne, Robert Moberly and several household servants accompanied Quince and Emma to the church at the edge of the village, where Reverend Bentley led them in their marriage vows. Jamie stood beside his friend while Marianne stood beside her maid. More than once he gazed at the woman he could never have, to see tears glistening in her lovely blue eyes. Even though he rejoiced at seeing his friend happy, his own heart felt like a cannonball in his chest.
Afterward, they walked back toward the manor house, where a small wedding celebration was to take place in the kitchen among the household staff. Then Jamie would gather his belongings and travel to Southampton. Quince and Emma would follow later in the evening, after Emma had seen to the last of her duties as Marianne’s lady’s maid.
Chafing at the misery soon to visit Marianne and him, Jamie offered his arm to her and fell back behind the others. His heart overflowed with love, as it had a few days before beneath the willow trees. Who knew the wedding of a friend could move a man so deeply?
“What a lovely bride Emma makes.” Marianne’s own loveliness was enhanced by her affection for her servant.
“Yes, and I’ve never seen Aaron... Quince grin so broadly.” His emotions rioted within him. Grief must not cause him to slip from his role as Quince’s master. “My lady...”
“Yes, my Jamie.” She looked up and gave him a smile that was strangely serene.
“Tsk. Be careful.” He winked at her, not feeling the slightest bit playful. “I won’t have another private moment with you, but if you will permit, I’d like to tell you something.”
“Of course.” Her perfect eyebrows arched with expectation.
He cleared his throat, fearing he was treading on dangerous ground, fearing his words might inspire her to some foolish action. Yet he could not restrain himself. “If the course of history should ever level the ground beneath us to permit an equality made clear in Scripture, then perhaps by God’s grace we can somehow be united.” He prayed she would not notice the rebellion implicit in this declaration.
She stared at the ground before them as if hiding her widening smile. “What will it take to level the ground? Will you perform some gallant deed for His Majesty and be made a knight?”
“You know that’s not possible.” Why had he said anything? “I merely meant...it is my way of saying... I shall never love another.”
She tugged him to a stop and faced him, no longer smiling or teasing, but staring up at him with misery in her eyes. “Nor shall I. And you must know this—if I cannot marry you, I shall not marry at all.” Her lovely, full lips formed a pout of determination.
He stared down at her for only an instant before pulling her into his arms and kissing her with all the fervor burning in his heart. Right here on the village road. Right here where they could be seen, should someone look out of a manor house window. This moment of bliss could not be wrong, at least not before God, not when they had just pledged eternal love to each other.
A harsh whistle met Jamie’s ears, snapping him out of his euphoria. He and Marianne looked up the road. While Moberly stared at them with fists at his waist, the others continued their walk toward the house. Now he beckoned sharply, his every move a warning. So this was it. Jamie might never see his love again. But he would carry her in his heart forever. My true-love hath my heart, and I have hers.