The moon slid from behind the clouds and shone through the casement window of their room at the inn, splashing silvery beams on the couple as they snuggled in each other’s arms in front of the fireplace.
Charles turned over in the bed and leaned up on one elbow. “Do we need to make a bundling board for you two?” He chuckled. “Are you going to stay up all night?”
“Go to sleep, little brother. You have no need to be concerned.”
Sophie’s soft breathing from a pallet on the floor assured them she was already asleep.
Charles lay on his back with his arms folded behind his head and sighed. It was not long before he began to snore.
Philippe caressed Bridget’s face with his fingers and whispered, “Moonlight only makes you more beautiful.”
She took his hand and kissed his palm—rough from his years of breaking and training horses, and now from the hard work on the farm. “I love your hands. I’ve admired them for years, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.”
“I observed you as you harnessed our teams to the carriage, and as you helped mares foal in the spring, and as you repaired a fence—so strong and well-defined, yet tender. They are handsome hands.”
“I didn’t know hands could be handsome,” he teased.
“Yours are.”
“I think they must look like my father’s, from what Maman tells me.” He spread them out in front of him in the moonlight.
“Tell me about your father. Tell me about your life in France. I want to know everything about you.” She sniffled. “Although I feel I know you well, there is a part of you that has been hidden all these years. I am hungry to know the depths of your hurts and your fond memories as well.” She turned and looked at him in the moonlight. “I have also found out something about my own past that I want you to know.”
“What is that, my love?” Philippe picked up a lock of her hair and smelled it. “I can smell the lavender.” He smiled. “What was it you found out?”
“I was an orphan. My parents took me in when one of their servants, my true mother, died. So . . . our stations in life are not so far apart, after all.”
“It really makes no difference anyway, does it? As long as we can be together, it really doesn’t matter.” He kissed her hand.
They sat huddled in each other’s arms by the fireplace and talked as the room grew colder and the night edged into the morning hours.
“Did you have a sweetheart in France?”
“Of course not. I was only fifteen when we came to the New World. There has been no one but you.”
“Not even when you were at Versailles?”
“No one. There was a young woman who helped me learn the court dances.”
“Aha! I knew it.”
Philippe put his finger on her mouth. “She was Pierre’s former lover.”
“Oh.”
“She was very patient with my bumbling through the steps. It was part of my courtier training.”
“What was her name?”
“Lisette.”
“Was she beautiful?”
“Very. I felt sorry for her, because the fact that Pierre was in love with my mother had become obvious. She aided in Pierre’s escape from the Bastille.”
“Escape? From the Bastille? Tell me, tell me. You see? There is so much I do not know.”
“Now is not the time to go into all this.”
Charles began to talk in his sleep.
Philippe smiled and shook his head at Bridget. “Shhh. He must be dreaming.” He gathered her in his arms, and they snuggled beneath a quilt. “Try to get some rest. We have the remainder of our lives to fall asleep in each other’s arms.”
BRIDGET WOKE UP TO PHILIPPE STANDING OVER HER, SHAKING her, then kissing her cheeks. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him in return. “Is this a dream? Am I really waking up to the love of my life showering me with kisses?”
Philippe laughed softly and smiled at her. She ran her fingers over his face, his jawline, and through his thick, dark hair. “I fear I’m going to wake up and you will be gone—and I will be getting married to Edward.”
“This is no dream. It is very real. God has made a way for us.”
“He did, didn’t he? I prayed last night for him to rescue me, and he sent you. Philippe, God sent you to rescue me.” Bridget gathered the quilt around her and looked around the room. “Good morning, Charles. Did you sleep well?”
Charles ran his fingers through his hair and put on his hat. “As well as could be expected, considering the fact that some of us stayed up all night.” He cuffed his brother’s arm.
Bridget looked over toward the end of the bed. “Where is Sophie?”
“She went downstairs earlier. My love, you need to get ready.” Philippe spoke urgently. “We’ll leave at the first sign of daylight. And without anyone seeing us, if possible.” He stood. “Charles and I will go saddle the horses. Hurry.”
She loved his soft, mellow voice. It sounded almost melodious when he spoke. She clung to his arm. “I don’t want you to leave me even for a minute.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I’ll be back for you before you know it.”
PHILIPPE STROKED LEGACY’S NECK AND PUT HIS BRIDLE ON. He felt his jaw tighten.
Lord, thank you for allowing us to rescue Bridget and for protecting us. But I don’t understand why you allowed that . . . that awful thing to happen to Bridget. Where were you then? To have her innocence and purity ravaged by that brutal man? A tear trickling down the outside of one eye surprised him. He brushed it away. Why could you have not protected her? I am offended that you did not protect her.
—I sent you to protect her.
He recognized the voice. I should not have rejected her, is that what you are saying, Lord?
—You made the best decision you knew how to make at the time. Don’t look back now. Trust me for the future.
Philippe hung his head. I do trust you, Father. I just don’t understand your ways. You have made a way for us . . . a way for us to be together, but did this path have to contain so much heartache? Did Bridget have to be the victim?
He heard nothing else. He finished saddling his horse and tied him to the hitching rail.
BRIDGET LOOKED AROUND THE ROOM AND SPOTTED A BLUE-and-white pitcher on a painted table. She poured water into the basin and splashed it on her face. She piled her hair up underneath her riding hat.
Sophie came into the room with mugs of tea. “The cook was already up,” she said.
“Oh, Sophie, how thoughtful.” Bridget took a mug off the tray. “I hope you will consider coming with us . . . permanently, I mean.” She began lacing up her riding boots. “Abigail has a new baby, and her husband works for my father, so they will want to stay at Whisper Wood. But I’m sure my father will find a place for you, and then when Philippe and I have our own house . . . would you consider coming with us to the valley?”
Sophie smiled, revealing surprisingly straight white teeth. Despite the fact that she had escaped with very few of her things, she still presented a picture of neatness, her brown hair braided into a twist and tucked into her cap. She looked down, her thick eyelashes brushing her cheeks. “I would be honored, Mistress Barrington. I have no place else to go.”
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile before. You are a very pretty woman, you know.”
Sophie ducked her head. Bridget patted her hand, stood, and put on her jacket.
Philippe came back into the room. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes. Sophie brought us tea.”
“Thank you, Sophie.” He drank his down quickly. “Come, then. Charles is waiting for us. Let’s go home—to the Schuylkill Valley. Home.”
Bridget smiled, then her smile disappeared. “Philippe?”
“Yes.”
“Edward will come after me.”
“We will deal with that when it occurs.” He extended his hand. “Come, we need to hurry.”
The three of them walked down the stairs together and scurried across the property to the horses.
Bridget tugged on Philippe’s arm. “Could we stop at Whisper Wood? I’d like to get a few of my things. Edward won’t even know I’m gone for a few more hours, and he doesn’t know for sure where we are going. If we go straight to Whisper Wood—”
“Hold on, hold on.” Philippe laughed. “I happen to agree with you. But we must get underway.” Philippe mounted and pulled Bridget up behind him.
Charles did the same with Sophie, and they walked their horses through the alley beside the inn out onto the dark street. It was deserted. No business owners opening shops. No one going to work. It was Christmas Day.
“Stop! Philippe Clavell, wait up!”
Philippe and Bridget twisted around. Her heart started pounding. Mister Clark came running out of the inn waving a bag. “I had my good wife pack a knapsack for you.”
“Thank you, sir. That is very kind.”
“You are welcome . . . and Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you.” Philippe tipped his hat.
Mister Clark turned and went back into the inn, waving at the Clavells. “Merry Christmas!”
BRIDGET SWIVELED AROUND AND CALLED TO CHARLES AND Sophie. “Only another ten minutes to Whisper Wood.”
Philippe whipped Legacy into a canter and rode down the very familiar road to the estate where he had spent his adolescent years. Whisper Wood came into view, and Bridget giggled and squeezed Philippe around his waist. “We’re home, Philippe.”
He turned around and smiled. “Not yet, my love.”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “I know, but it’s a first stop on our journey home.”
Contentment rushed through her like she had never experienced before. How astonishing that yesterday she was the most miserable woman on earth, and today she had to be the happiest! She closed her eyes and remembered the days when Philippe had saddled Kimi for her, and they’d ridden through the pastures and cornfields. She knew she’d fallen in love with him from the beginning and wondered when it was that he began to develop feelings for her. She would ask him that—soon.
And now they were to be married. She opened her eyes and looked at the back of his head with his thick hair tied with a leather strip, and his broad shoulders that tugged at the seams of his jacket. She ran her hand across his shoulders.
He turned around to peer at her—his dark brown eyes filled with love. “Yes?”
“Nothing. I am simply having trouble believing that this is happening. I want to touch you to make sure it is real, that it’s not a dream.”
“It is a dream, our dream, and we are living that dream.” Philippe guided their party through the gate and around the side of the house to the stables. Bridget jumped off Legacy.
“Charles and I will get the wagon ready.” He turned to Bridget. “Which horses do you want to take?”
Bridget smiled and reached out for his hand. “Kimi, of course, and then you choose the other. You know them as well as I do, or better. You know what we’ll need. Do you think it would be smoother travel with the sleigh?”
Philippe nodded. “Very well. I’ll put the cover on it, and we’ll be ready shortly.”
“Come with me, Sophie.” Bridget got her pack and started up the path past the smokehouse to the house. The servant scurried after her.
Bridget threw open the back door. “Abigail! Abigail, I’m home!”
Abigail came into the keeping room from the pantry holding her baby wrapped in a quilt. Zachary followed close behind, holding their two-year-old. “Mistress Barrington! What are thee doing home already?” Both Zachary and Abigail turned to look at Sophie. “What about . . . the wedding?”
“This is Sophie, Mister Edward’s former maid. The wedding . . . well, that’s a long story.”
Philippe and Charles came into the kitchen and hung their jackets on pegs inside the door.
“Philippe!”
Philippe grinned and took off his hat. “Good morning, Abigail.” He motioned to Charles. “This is my brother, Charles.”
Bridget gestured with her hands. “To give you the most concise explanation possible, Mister Moorehead has been found to be a man of questionable character and integrity. Philippe and I have . . . have cared for each other for many years, but neither of us had the courage to vocalize it.” She moved to Philippe’s side, and he put his arm around her shoulders. “By God’s grace we found each other in time, and we made a bold decision to defy tradition and go with our hearts.” She laughed and took Philippe’s arm. “We are running away. Philippe and I are going to be married, have babies, like you and Zachary, and be happy. That’s the glad news that we bring.” She reached out and caressed the baby’s cheek. “However, we must hurry. Edward will certainly come here looking for me.”
Abigail nodded. “When will thee be getting married?”
“As soon as possible. The events of the last few hours have happened so quickly that we’ve hardly spoken of future plans. We much desire to be married right away.” Bridget looked up at Philippe, suddenly realizing they had not thought about clergy or a priest or banns, or anything except that they wanted to be married. “I . . . I suppose we need some sort of officiate. Philippe?”
Philippe hugged her closer. “We will solve that small dilemma. Maman and Pierre were simply married at the home of a pastor in Switzerland. Surely . . .”
Abigail smiled and shifted her baby to the other arm. “In our Quaker faith, thee can simply say the wedding vows in front of witnesses, and it is done. Zachary and I would be honored to be witnesses to thy vows.”
Philippe’s eyes widened. “Of course.” He turned to Bridget. “God has already made a way for us, before we even asked. Would that be acceptable to you—to say our vows here in front of Charles and Abigail and Zachary and Sophie?”
“Yes, but what about you? You would not want to wait until your family . . . ?”
Philippe shook his head. “I do not want to wait for anything. I want us married as soon as possible.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
Bridget touched her cheek and blushed. “So do I.”
What a gentle man Philippe is. So unlike . . . so unlike Edward.
A momentary flash of Edward dragging and shoving her onto the bed threatened to spoil her happiness, but she refused to allow it to do so. She would not ever have to deal with Edward Moorehead again. Once she and Philippe were married, Edward would be out of her life forever.
Philippe looked around the room at his brother, and Abigail and Zachary and their family, and Sophie lingering by the fireplace. “Can we do it right now?”
Bridget’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh. Oh my.” She looked at the circle of encouraging faces, nodded, and took a deep breath. “Very well, let us proceed. Shall we go into the parlor?”
The group moved quickly into the more formal room. The sunshine played through the casement windows and glistened on the dark furniture. Bridget took Philippe’s handkerchief out of her jacket pocket and held it in her hands as they faced each other in front of the windows looking out on the snow-covered landscape.
Philippe looked at Zachary. “How do we begin?”
Zachary chuckled. “Simply say what thee would like to her, and promise to be a good husband.”
Philippe cleared his throat and began, his voice low but confident.
“Mistress Bridget Barrington, you are the love of my life. I have never loved another. I covenant to love you only better as my beloved wife.
I will protect you, take care of you, and provide for you to the very best of my ability. I will be a good, faithful, and proper husband. I will allow no harm ever to come to you.” He kissed her hand. “And as God as my witness, I will cherish you, my wife, as a most precious treasure.”
Bridget gazed at her beloved’s dark eyes. He blinked away tears as he spoke. She felt as if she were floating. Surely her feet were not touching the ground. All she could see was Philippe and his smiling face.
She did not know what she was going to say, but began to speak and all the thoughts and emotions of the years came to the surface. “Philippe, I fell in love with you on that very first miserable, rainy day on the docks. It pained me to see a family of such obvious quality and refinement being torn apart and sold into servitude. But it was more than that. Something touched my heart of hearts about you. It was more than fantasy and young love. True love awakens the soul, and my soul pulsated with life whenever I was with you. When I was away from you, I counted the minutes until I could arrange to be in your presence once more. I was, and am, hopelessly in love with you.
“My parents attempted to make the perfect match for me by arranging a marriage of means and property, but I knew all along my perfect match was you. I promise to be by your side always, through whatever may come. I promise to support you and provide a warm hearth and home. And as God as my witness, I promise to be a faithful, good wife and will love none other.”
The two lovers stared at each other. Philippe looked at Abigail and Zachary. “Is that all we need to do? We’re married now?”
The young couple nodded, smiling at the newlyweds.
Philippe bent down and kissed Bridget tenderly. “I love you, Mistress Clavell.”
“And I love you more than I can say, Monsieur Clavell.”
The bride and groom embraced, tears mingling with laughter.
Charles strode to the couple and enfolded his brother in his arms. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.” He bowed to Bridget and took her hand. “Mistress, I am honored to have you as my brother’s wife. But we had best not tarry. Let’s get your things and depart as quickly as possible.”
Philippe kissed Bridget once more on the cheek, and he, Charles, and Zachary went to the stables. Bridget, Abigail, and Sophie took the children and ran up the stairs.
AT TEN O’CLOCK ELLA KNOCKED ON BRIDGET’S DOOR. NO one answered. She knocked again and tried the doorknob. She opened the door and peeked in. Lying on the bed was the wedding dress that had been Edward’s mother’s, with her diamond brooch pinned on the bodice. The box that the beaver cloak had come in was on the bed as well, with the hat and muff. She opened the wardrobe. All of the gowns were still there. Only Bridget’s personal small case and her riding habit, hat, and boots were missing. Ella sighed and started out the door. She nearly ran into Sarah.
“Is the beautiful bride-to-be getting ready? The ceremony takes . . . place . . .” Sarah stepped into the room and looked at the wedding dress on the bed. “Wh-where is Bridget? She’s going to be late. Ella?” Sarah turned around in a circle. “Where is my daughter? Where is Bridget?” Sarah’s voice rose to a screech.
Ella came in behind her and closed the door. “Aunt Sarah, I don’t know where Bridget is, but she left me a message to give to you. She wants you to know that she is safe, and that she will contact you in due time—as soon as she feels she can.”
“B-but where did she go? Why? Who is she with?”
“We’d better let the others know. We may as well get ready for a tirade. All I can tell you is that when she told me the whole story, I agreed with her decision to leave.”
“I don’t understand.” She began to cry. “Amos! Amos, come in here!”
Amos appeared at the door, his vest unbuttoned and without his cane. He hobbled to his wife. “Whatever is wrong? Where’s Bridget?”
“Oh, Amos. She’s gone! I don’t know where or with whom. Our baby’s gone.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh my. What shame. What disgraceful behavior.” She broke down into wails that soon brought the other members of the household flocking to the bedroom.
Amos turned to Ella. “What do you know about this? Where did she go?”
Ella shook her head. “I can honestly say that I do not know where she has gone.”
David came to the door holding Davey who, upon seeing Sarah crying, began to cry too. Bradley and Penelope, who had already arrived for the wedding, stood on the fringes of the bystanders. Bradley picked William up, took Penelope by the hand, and walked over to David. “What’s going on?”
David shrugged his shoulders. “I have not a clue.”
Some of the Moorehead children crowded around the door, already dressed in their wedding finery, wide-eyed at the scene. Nervous laughter from the adolescent boys’ changing voices and giggles and titters from the girls echoed in the hallway.
Jacob and Faith shooed their children away from the door as Edward bounded up the stairs two at a time.
“What is going on up here? Is Bridget . . . ?” He shouldered his way through the gathering in the doorway and burst into the room. He took one look at the wedding dress on the bed and began to bellow and roar. “Where is she? Where did my bride go? Where is she?” He stomped around the room. “She can’t have simply disappeared.”
He turned to Amos and Sarah, his face purple with rage. “Tell me where she is. You’re her father. Do you have control of your household? Can you not maintain better control of your daughter?” He shook his finger in their faces. “She cannot escape from me. Not again, she won’t.” His behavior belied his impeccably powdered and coiffed hair. He had unbuttoned his ivory and gold jacket and stood with his fists on his hips.
Amos stared at the uncontrollable display of rage from the man who had been scheduled to become his son-in-law that very day. He straightened himself up and looked Edward directly in the eyes. “Young man, I understand that you are upset, but no one is allowed to speak to my wife nor myself in that manner. We are as shocked as you are, and have no idea where she has gone.”
Edward stepped back and took a deep breath. “You are right. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He looked at the circle of onlookers. “Does anybody know where she has gone?” His eyes rested on her cousin. “Ella? Do you know where she went?”
Ella shook her head. David looked at his wife. She evaded his eyes.
“Does no one know what has happened to my bride? Did no one see anything?”
Servants started to gather in the hallway.
Edward began to shout again. “I want everyone in the house questioned, including servants. Someone had to have seen something.”
Children and servants scattered in the face of his anger.
He stormed toward the door, stopping in front of Faith and Jacob. “Our guests are already beginning to arrive. Take care of them.”
“Where are you going?”
“To look for Bridget.”
Jacob shook his head. “And where are you going to look? Don’t you think you need to do some investigating before you take off like a wild stallion? She could be anywhere. Wait until we find out some more facts.”
Edward swore and punched his fist into the wardrobe, splintering the wood of the door. “Everybody out!”
The rest of the spectators hurried out of the room. Ella took Davey from her husband. “Let’s leave Edward to his misery . . . and his tantrums.”
Edward glared at her as they left the room.
EDWARD WALKED TO THE STABLE, PULLING ON HIS GLOVES, his mouth grim. By questioning the servants and cooks, he’d been able to piece together bits of the story and had deduced what had happened. The Clavell brothers had come after Bridget. Why, he did not know for certain, but Edward had a hunch that Bridget fancied herself in love with one of them. And his Sophie had gone with them. That was a further jolt to him.
The Osbornes and senior Barringtons planned to leave after dinner, but Amos and Sarah would stay with their relatives a few days to recover from the shocking incident. Ella thought they might do some shopping. Perhaps it would be good for Sarah, to get her mind off the scandal of her daughter running away with another man on her wedding day. Bradley and Penelope had already gone home.
Edward didn’t care what their plans were, just as long as they left his house. Sarah’s crying and blubbering about the shame and disgrace annoyed him. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there and pursue those who had wronged him. Getting a late start going after them perturbed him. He still felt like Ella knew more than she was revealing. He was chagrined, mortified, and humiliated. He would make Bridget Barrington pay. She would not get away with this.
Jacob walked with him to the stable. “I wish I could go with you, but I need to get the family back to New York.” He stopped Edward. “Listen, Edward, take some advice from your older brother.” He smiled, but his eyes reflected his concern. “Let this go. I’m sorry it happened, and that your bride-to-be proved to be less than what you had hoped for, but she’s gone. Even if you find her and force her to come back to you, what have you gained—a reluctant, bitter wife? I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?”
Edward snapped his gloves against his leg. “No one betrays me and gets away with it. They will pay the consequences.”
“And what consequences might you have in mind?”
“I’m going after them. If I cannot have Bridget, then neither can anyone else.”
“Edward, you are not thinking properly.” Jacob caught his brother by the shoulder.
Edward pushed him aside. “Get out of my way.”
“You are making a mistake.”
“Maybe so, but I cannot let this pass without taking some action.” Edward got on his horse and turned his horse’s head north toward Whisper Wood. That’s where they would be. That is where he would catch up with them. They would not escape their just due.