Justin couldn’t leave Christ Church fast enough. The pew that had been his family’s since before he was born felt uncomfortable and alien to him. Not surprising since he felt the same way about God. The only reason he attended church at all was ingrained habit, and—if he was honest—to maintain an acceptable image among his peers. It had been that way for months now.
Justin held back a scowl, put on a smile and doffed his hat as friends bid them good day. He turned toward the carriage, relieved the after service amenities were over and they could go home. He had much to think about. There had to be a way to find out who Elizabeth was, and how she had come to marry him. He nodded a polite greeting to a passing Quaker family, handed Elizabeth into the carriage, then climbed in after her.
The horses’ hoofs clattered against the cobblestones. The buggy lurched away from the raised brick walkway and fell into line with the other carriages heading south on Second Street. Justin relaxed back against the seat.
“Your friends are very kind.” Elizabeth smoothed a fold in her skirt, then raised her gaze to him. “I hope you were pleased with my performance as your bride.”
Performance. The word added to his foul mood. He gave a brief nod. “More than pleased.”
Elizabeth waited, but he said nothing more. She held back a sigh. “Christ Church is beautiful. I’ve never seen such a tall steeple.”
Justin glanced her way. “It’s almost two hundred feet tall. It’s the first thing one sees of the city when sailing up the Delaware. A welcome sight to those who have been months at sea.”
Elizabeth tensed. It unnerved her to think of Justin’s possible business connections to her father, or Reginald Burton-Smythe. She glanced out the window as the carriage turned right. A building stood in the middle of the street. A long row of adjoining one-story stalls stretched out behind it. “What is this place?”
“That’s the Old Court House. It was built in William Penn’s time. That building has seen a lot of history—as has the whole of Philadelphia.”
His voice had warmed. Elizabeth smiled. “You sound proud of your city.”
“I am. Justifiably so.” He removed his hat and placed it on his knee. “America was born here. Philadelphia deserves pride from all her citizens. From all Americans.”
“I’m afraid my knowledge of our country’s history is woefully lacking. We weren’t taught such things at Miss Pettigrew’s Academy.” Elizabeth turned back to the window. “And what are the empty stalls?”
“A marketplace. The stalls are deserted now, but early tomorrow morning they will be teeming with farmers, butchers and craftsmen selling their produce and wares. The street will be so crowded with ladies and their maids, cooks and others seeking to purchase what is offered, it will be all but impassable for those in carriages.”
“I see.” Elizabeth felt a twinge of housewifely duty. She glanced back over at Justin. “I shall accompany Cook here one day and discover what is offered—though I’ve yet to learn what foods are to your liking.” Her cheeks warmed. That had sounded too intimate.
Justin stared at her for a moment, then stirred in his seat and cleared his throat. “I’m easily pleased.”
He sounded brusque. Elizabeth nodded and reached for the hold strap as the carriage swayed left. They rounded another corner. She stared out the window, taking in the sights of her new home town. At least the sun was shining on her first excursion beyond the walls of Randolph Court. “Those are lovely gardens, it must be beautiful when all the trees are leafed out and the flowers are in bloom.” Another building cut off her view. “What is that building?”
“Philosophical Hall—where the American Philosophical Society meets.”
Elizabeth leaned back and looked at Justin, intrigued by all she was learning. She had never been free to ask her father questions. “And what do they do?”
“They discuss ways to improve farm crops, new business practices—things that will improve the quality of life.” His eyes lit with enthusiasm. “Right now we are discussing the possibility of a canal system to ease and increase trade with the west—” He stopped as the carriage came to a halt. “Ah, home again.”
The door opened. Justin climbed out, then turned and offered her his hand. Elizabeth took a deep breath, put her hand in his and stepped out. The sun warmed her face as she walked beside him up the steps of the portico. Things that will improve the quality of life. That certainly didn’t sound self-serving. She looked at her husband with newfound respect, then lifted her gaze to the lovely fanlight. Peace and promise. Perhaps she would find those here.
Elizabeth finished pouring their tea and handed Justin his cup. He lifted it to his mouth and studied her over the brim as he took a swallow of the hot, black brew. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her—so much he wanted to know. Plague that agreement! The thing was haunting him. “No personal contact”…“no probing into the past”…“each partner’s life to remain separate and private.” Hah! He was shackled by his own cleverness.
Justin scowled, took another swallow of tea and winced as the hot liquid burned his throat. He coughed, put the cup down, and leaned back in his chair. There had to be a way to find out about Elizabeth—who she was and how she had come to marry him. Of all his questions, that was the one he needed an answer for: Why had she married him? It was obvious she was well-born, and since she wasn’t carrying a child she would have had every opportunity for a good marriage.
“Would you care for a biscuit? Or cake?”
The question jerked Justin out of his thoughts. Elizabeth gave him an uneasy smile, and he suddenly realized he’d been staring at her. Probably glowering, given his frame of mind. He shook his head and reached for his cup. “No. Tea is fine.”
Elizabeth shifted in her chair. “I believe I’m making progress with Sarah.”
“Oh?” Justin made a mental change of focus. “What sort of progress?”
She put down her cup and looked at him. “She smiled at me today. A big, wide smile. I was telling her about Mr. Buffy and I being stuck in the evergreen tree, and she—”
“You were stuck in an evergreen?” Justin leaned forward in his chair and gave Elizabeth his full attention. Here was an opportunity to learn something about her past—perhaps glean information that would lead to the answers to his questions. “How did that come about?”
“It was an accident. And very dull in the telling.” Elizabeth reached up and tucked a curl that had fallen onto her forehead back where it belonged. “Now, as I was saying about Sarah, she—”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“What?”
“The story of how you and Mr. Buffy got stuck in the evergreen. I’d like to hear it.”
“Oh.”
She looked decidedly uneasy. Would she remember their agreement and refuse?
“It happened a long time ago.”
Justin relaxed. She hadn’t remembered—or she was too afraid of him to ignore his request? He ignored a faint twinge of guilt and leaned back in his chair. “Go on.”
Elizabeth stared down at her empty cup. There was no point in refusing. There was an undercurrent of determination in Justin’s voice that said he would not be diverted or dissuaded. And she needn’t tell it all. She took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. “Every spring my mother gave a large party. The house was always full of guests, and the servants were kept busy attending them. On this particular day, Miss Essie—” She glanced up at Justin. “That was my nurse-governess—had been unexpectedly called away by a death in the family.”
She lifted the teapot and looked over at him. “More tea?”
“I still have some. Please continue. You were saying your nurse-governess had been unexpectedly called away, and…?”
“And, I was not to be underfoot. So Barky—” Elizabeth poured herself more tea and added a bit of honey. “I mean, Barkley. The man was father’s head groom and his name was Barkley.” She stopped stirring the honey into her tea and glanced at Justin. “At three years old I couldn’t pronounce his name correctly. I still think of him as Barky.”
Justin grinned. “So you couldn’t pronounce your l’s when you were a toddler.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks prickled with heat. “That’s correct. Anyway…Barkley took me to the grounds behind the stables to play. He had made a swing for me in a large oak tree that grows at the edge of the wooded area bordering Father’s land. For a few minutes he pushed me on it, testing it I suppose, then he sat me at the base of the tree and told me to stay there until Billy—one of the stable boys—came to watch over me.” She sighed and laid her spoon down.
“I obeyed for a few minutes, but soon grew impatient. I tried to climb onto the swing seat by myself but was too small to manage. And then it occurred to me that Mr. Buffy might like to swing. I laid him on the board seat and pushed as hard as I was able. The seat wobbled through the air, and Mr. Buffy flew off and landed in the top branches of a large, old laurel bush.” Justin was grinning again. Elizabeth looked down and straightened her napkin.
“What did you do?”
She lifted her chin. “I tried to rescue him. I climbed into the laurel and had almost reached him when one of the branches broke and I fell. I tore my frock and grazed my face and arms on the branches, but the worst part was my hair became entangled with a branch and I couldn’t move. Billy found me there, struggling and crying, frightened and furious, because I couldn’t reach Mr. Buffy.”
“He must have been very important to you.”
Elizabeth nodded, wishing she had never opened the door for this conversation. “I have no brothers or sisters—or cousins. I do have an uncle that made an occasional, unexpected visit.” She shuddered, drew a deep breath, and went on. “And, of course, Mother and Father. But they were busy with their social obligations.” She could hear the loneliness of her childhood, the hurt of rejection, in her voice. She cleared her throat and tried for a lighter tone. “Mr. Buffy was more than a doll to me—he was my friend. My grandmother gave him to me.” She stopped talking, and took a swallow of her tea. Maybe he would be satisfied—
“Is your grandmother still alive?”
Elizabeth stared at the pattern twining around the rim of her cup and shook her head. “No. My grandmother died when I was two years old. I never knew her. But Miss Essie said she loved me very much.” Sudden tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away and raised her hand to touch the brooch on her dress.
“What happened after Billy found you in the laurel?”
Elizabeth smoothed a fold from her skirt and glanced over at Justin from under her lashes. He was watching her—waiting. She took another deep breath. “Billy was frightened when he found me. He was only a boy, and I was dirty, disheveled and bleeding—and crying, of course. And I was still struggling to reach Mr. Buffy. Billy retrieved him—to quiet me I suppose—and then untangled my hair. When he had freed me, he ran with me to the house and carried me directly to my mother.”
Elizabeth’s voice sounded strange and far away to her. She intended to stop the story there, but the words kept tumbling from her mouth. “Mother was terribly embarrassed. Her friends were there and my appearance was disgraceful. She demanded to know why Billy had disturbed them, and he blurted out the whole story. Her friends laughed. Mother—” Elizabeth’s throat thickened. She swallowed convulsively. “Mother ordered Barkley to burn my doll, but I fought him. I held on to Mr. Buffy with all my strength, and begged Barkley not to hurt him. He let go of Mr. Buffy and lifted me into his arms. I cried and kicked and fought to get free, and then—and then Mother came and took Mr. Buffy from me. She threw him into the fire.”
Something hot and wet fell on Elizabeth’s hand. She looked down—another tear fell. She wiped it away. “I was banished to the nursery in disgrace, and then Father came and—and disciplined me.” She shuddered and closed her eyes. “Billy and Barkley were let go. I never saw them again.”
A heavy silence descended. The fire crackled. A glowing coal arced out into the room and fell on the floor at Justin’s feet. He drew back his foot, kicked the ember back into the fire, then withdrew his handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and pressed it into Elizabeth’s hand.
She dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you. I seem to be very needful of your handkerchiefs.” She tried to laugh, but only succeeded in causing an odd little catch in her voice.
Justin lunged to his feet. If he sat looking at Elizabeth a moment longer he would not be able to resist the temptation to hold her. He didn’t know if he wanted most to comfort Elizabeth the child, or love Elizabeth the woman, but he knew he wanted her in his arms. How he wanted her in his arms! He moved to the fire and threw another log on the blaze.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I didn’t realize the story would bring back painful memories, or I—”
“Please, don’t.” Elizabeth stared down at his handkerchief in her hand. “Please don’t apologize, Justin. I’m embarrassed enough.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When she spoke again her voice was steadier. “I don’t normally lose control like that, and I apologize for subjecting you to such a display. To cry over something that happened so long ago is foolish indeed.”
“It’s not foolish, Elizabeth. Time doesn’t always help. Sometimes pain doesn’t go away.” Justin rubbed a hard knuckle across the throbbing nerve in his clenched jaw and made a determined effort to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Sometimes pain only gets buried.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
She lifted her gaze to his.
Justin cleared his throat. “I can see now why you understood about Sarah’s rag doll. All I saw was its deplorable condition. That’s why I ordered it replaced. I thought the child would be happy to have a new one.” He was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he had been so caught up in his own pain, anger and wounded pride he had been as callously indifferent to little Sarah’s need for love and security as Elizabeth’s parents had been to hers. Margaret had never loved her daughter. She had been too busy playing her greedy little games to have any time for Sarah—but he had been just as neglectful. That she was not his daughter was no excuse—she was a child under his care. He stared down at the fire not liking the picture he saw of the man he had become. “That wasn’t very sensitive of me, was it?”
He sounded…contrite. Elizabeth raised her head. “You mustn’t blame yourself.” Again, she strove for a light note. “After all, you didn’t have Mr. Buffy to teach you.”
“Perhaps he’s teaching me now.”
Elizabeth smiled. She’d never imagined Justin Randolph capable of such a whimsical thought. “Perhaps.”
Justin turned and looked at her. “It seems unfair that Sarah and I should profit from an experience that was so painful for you.”
Elizabeth raised her hand to the brooch on her bodice. “It would please me if you did.”
Justin nodded and leaned back against the mantel. “That’s a lovely brooch. It seems special to you.”
“It is.” Elizabeth smiled and looked down at the pin on her gown. “My grandmother left it to me—the one that gave me Mr. Buffy. It’s all I have of her, now.” She returned her gaze to him. “Sometimes when I think of her I have an impression of laughter and warmth—and sometimes I smell flowers. But it isn’t even a memory. It’s only an impression.”
“It’s an unusual piece.” Justin looked away from the sadness in Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’ve noticed it before.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Grandfather had it made specially for Grandmother.” She unfastened the brooch and held it out to him. “Would you care to examine it more closely?” He moved to the table and Elizabeth laid the brooch on his palm. It was a small tree, with a solid gold trunk and filigree branches dotted with tiny emerald leaves.
“It’s beautiful. And, as I said, very unusual. The workmanship is exquisite.”
“Grandfather gave it to Grandmother on their wedding day. He chose a tree design because he said it was an appropriate symbol of the strength of their love, the beauty it brought to their lives, and the fact that it would continue to grow as long as they lived. Grandmother left me a lovely note explaining it all. She wanted me to—” She came to a dead halt.
“To have the same kind of love in your marriage?”
She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”
Guilt twisted deep within Justin. He laid the brooch on the table and walked back to the fire. Again, he was faced with a picture of himself that was ugly and unsettling. Not only had he consigned himself to a lonely, empty life—he had destined Elizabeth to the same fate. His bitterness and anger had reached out and engulfed her life also.
Justin gave a soft snort. How had he imagined himself so brilliantly clever when in truth he was the biggest fool he had ever known! He looked down at the gray ash at the edge of the fire and his face tightened. If he were to choose a symbol of their future life together that’s what it would be—cold, gray, dead ashes. Ashes that would lay forever on the perimeter of the beautiful, flaming warmth of what might have been. He pushed the thought away. “Your grandparents were very fortunate to find a lasting love that grew with time, Elizabeth. It doesn’t always happen that way.”
“I don’t believe it ever does.”
Justin turned around. “That’s an interesting observation—especially in the face of your grandmother’s note. She clearly stated otherwise.”
Elizabeth finished pinning the brooch back on her gown and looked up at him. “The note explained the symbolism of the brooch. It didn’t say that it was true.”
Justin stared at her, taken aback by the cynicism. “You don’t believe that love between a husband and wife can grow?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You mistake me. I don’t believe that it exists.”
“I see.” And there was his answer. “Is that why you married me?”
“I—” She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. “Yes. That was part of it.”
Justin’s questioning gaze bored down into hers but she did not explain further. She rose from her chair and began to move idly about the room. He watched her for a moment, then turned and stared down at the fire. The awful stillness in her voice as she answered had chilled him. What had happened to her? What was the other part she referred—?
“Is this your family Bible?”
Justin turned. Elizabeth’s hand rested on the large Bible that occupied a place of honor on the rosewood table beside his favorite reading chair. Though he no longer read it, he had been unable to make himself put the Bible away—Nana would be extremely upset. He smiled at the thought. “Yes it is. It’s my grandmother’s legacy to me.”
“How lovely.” Elizabeth brushed her fingers lightly across the cover. “Did you know your grandmother?”
“Oh, yes.” Justin smiled at a sudden rush of tender memories. “I knew her very well. She came to care for us—Father, my sister Laina, and me—when Mother died.” He grinned. “I was her favorite.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You seem very certain of that.”
“I am. I can prove it.”
Justin stepped to her side, reached down and flipped open the Bible. “There.” He pointed at some handwriting on the inside of the front cover.
Elizabeth leaned over the Bible. Her blond curls fell forward and gently brushed against Justin’s hand. She read the inscription aloud. “To Justin Davidson Randolph, the fourth greatest love of my life.”
“That’s me.” Justin fought the urge to turn his hand over and run the silky softness of Elizabeth’s hair through his fingers. “I’m Nana’s ‘fourth greatest love.’” His heart thudded when Elizabeth straightened and raised her gaze to meet his. For a moment he lost himself in the dark-blue depths of her eyes.
“And who were the three greatest loves that came before you?”
“God…Grandfather…and Mother.” Being near her played havoc with his self-control. Justin walked away. He rested one arm on the mantel. “You’re wrong, you know.”
“Wrong?” Elizabeth gave him a quizzical look. “About what?”
“Love.” Justin locked his gaze on hers. “It does exist between a husband and wife. And it does grow. I’ve lived in the warmth of it.”
His words brought all his old, warm, wonderful memories surging to the fore. Justin fell silent. Somehow, all his memories of the goodness of love had gotten buried under the hurt and bitterness brought into his life by Rebecca and Margaret. But they were still there. They were all still there. He had just remembered them too late.
“Forgive me, Justin. I should not have spoken so. I should have remembered your wife.”
Justin stared at Elizabeth. Should he explain that she had misunderstood—that he had not been speaking of himself, but of the love he had witnessed in his parents’ and grandparents’ marriages? Should he tell her the truth about his own marriage? He considered the idea, fleetingly—but only fleetingly. It would serve no purpose, and he did not care to admit to others what a fool he had been.
“There’s nothing to forgive, Elizabeth.” He nodded toward the Bible. “There is more writing inside.” He made his voice cool and matter-of-fact, deliberately dispelling the tender emotions that filled him. “Nana was quite a one for underlining favorite passages and writing small comments in the books that she read. You’ll find evidence of that in many of the books in this room. The Bible is no exception. It was her favorite reading material.”
He pushed away from the mantel, moved to the table and thumbed idly through the pages of the Bible until he found what he sought. “There.” He pointed to an inscription in the margin of a gilt-edged page.
Elizabeth leaned forward and read aloud the verse that was underlined. “For thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.” Her gaze shifted to the notation he’d indicated, and she read that also. “‘Must have Laina memorize this. It will be good for her character.’” She straightened and gave him an inquiring look.
Justin chuckled. “Grandmother Davidson thought Laina a little too proud and haughty for her own good. Nana was always trying to undo the damage she said my father wreaked on Laina’s character by his ‘mindless doting.’” He grinned widely. “It was an old, rather comfortable, argument between them.”
He reached down and tapped the underlined scripture. “This was Nana’s favorite weapon. She loved to memorize and quote scripture. She firmly believed that God has an answer for every problem or circumstance of life.” With a flick of his wrist he closed the Bible. His smile died.
“I take it you do not agree.”
Justin looked from Elizabeth’s deep-blue eyes, to the cold, gray ashes on the edge of the fire—there were a lot of empty years ahead. “You’re right—I do not agree. Not anymore. For some things, there are no answers.”
Elizabeth watched a bleak, bitter look settle on Justin’s face. He must be thinking of his wife again. Her heart went out to him. She longed to offer some comfort, some word of hope, but she could find none within herself. She agreed with him. She, too, had been taught the hard lesson of hopelessness. She, too, had lost her dream, her hope of love. There was no answer for that.
She turned back to the Bible and leafed through its pages, leaving Justin to his private thoughts. At least he had this. It was almost as if his grandmother were still here. She paused at another verse that had been underlined and leaned forward to read the terse inscription beside it. “For Isaac.” She looked up to ask Justin who Isaac was, but he was lost in thought. She left him to his memories and began to read, her soft voice accompanied by the crackling of the fire.
“‘The spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn—’”
Elizabeth’s voice trembled. She lifted her gaze to Justin. He was staring intently at her, listening to her read. A feeling of awe swept over her. It was almost as if God was speaking directly to them. She lowered her gaze to the Bible and read on. “‘…To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes…’” Her throat tightened, tears filled her eyes and blurred the words—she could read no more.
Justin stared at Elizabeth. She stopped reading and silence settled around them. It was impossible. He couldn’t have heard her right! He crossed to the table and looked down at the Bible, searching the page for the underlined scripture. It was there. Just as she had read it: “to give unto them beauty for ashes.” He looked over at the fireplace, at the cold, gray ashes he had named the symbol of their future, then looked back to the words that seemed to leap off the page at him. “To give unto them beauty for ashes.”
A brilliant, bright light of hope pierced Justin’s soul. He looked back at Elizabeth. If only—
If!
Doubt flooded Justin’s mind, and, as quickly as it had come, the hope disappeared, leaving a desolation that was worse than any he had previously known. Without a word he pivoted on his heel and left the room.