But alas! we are not to expect that the path will be strewed with flowers.
—GEORGE WASHINGTON
YONKERS-ON-HUDSON
Mary didn’t want to do what Frederick told her must be done. Her stomach felt sick over it. He was right, but that didn’t mean she should be happy about it. She would quickly thank Captain Roger Morris and be done with it. It took her this long to finally agree. Months had gone by since the banquet. Her world had gone silent that night.
It had been Captain Morris who discovered her lying alone in the dark in that room where that scoundrel left her. She had little knowledge of what happened. An image flashed in the back of her mind; she forced the thought into hiding, for she wanted to keep its awfulness from even herself.
She would keep the conversation with the captain short. More than anything, she wanted the guards assigned to her by Lord Loudoun gone. The protection began after the banquet. They followed her each time she set foot outside, each time she rode on horseback. She wanted to get fresh air alone; instead, she had to deal with officers trailing her. Valentine, the horse born to George’s mare, outsped the guards every time. George would be proud. She wrote to him numerous times to keep him abreast of the young horse, which, although small, was still a fine mare. She hoped he received these letters, but how was she to know? He never wrote back, not a word. She understood, for he was a colonel fighting a war. There would be little time, she surmised, for writing letters.
She heard the clip-clop of hooves hitting the cobblestone path leading to the front door of the manor. Through the window to the right of the doorway, she saw the arrival of an ostentatious chariot. It looked as if a sheet of ice covered the exterior, for the black color had an extreme gloss. A golden lion shimmered upon its door. Green velvet housing covered the livery.
Dressed in a yellow suit, the man Eva had taken to calling “Genu,” Captain Morris, stepped onto the path. He wasn’t particularly tall. He was close to her height if she wore a satin heel. He held something sizable concealed behind his back. The last thing she wanted was a gift from him.
The captain had a spring in his step as he walked to the manor’s front door. He appeared to her as a summer’s garden in bloom, with embroidered flowers on the fabric of his coat that were large enough to see from a distance.
She planned to answer the door herself. No attendant for this. She needed the greeting to be over before it even started. She moved back from the window as he drew closer. The sound of his heels could be heard near the doorway. A quiet moment followed. Maybe he decided to turn around. She did not hear his heels click again. The lightest tap at the door came next. He must have seen her at the window. How humiliating, she thought. She waited before opening the top portion. If she looked only from the top, this affair would be done with sooner. Otherwise, he would expect to be invited in.
She undid the latch and opened it. Before she could get out the sentence she planned to say to him, he took off his tricorn hat and brought his hand from behind his back to reveal giant-sized flowers—with faces like the sun.
“For you, the Helianthus verticillatus.”
An awkward lull followed. She peered out the top of the door but could not see the stems. She undid the latch to open the bottom half. “These flowers are known to grow double this size.”
“Where do they come from?”
“They are native to France, Italy, and Spain. There are other species of this genus, as well—of the smaller variety.” He pointed to the seeds at the center of the flower. “If planted at the correct time of year, your gardeners will find they can be propagated quite easily, especially in the greenhouse.”
“The flower heads appear to be tilting.”
“I surmise due to their flexibility … or for reasons of kneeling before beauty.” With these words, he knelt before her. “Without flowers, you might as well live out of this world.” He handed her the bouquet. He stood back up, said a brief farewell, and strolled off.
Mary was left holding a bouquet of sunflowers that carried a scent of musky earthiness. She realized she never thanked him for what he had done. She would hear of it from her brother.