The Kitchen House (29 page)

Lavinia

M
Y ENGAGEMENT TO
M
R
. B
ORAN
was announced on my sixteenth birthday. Stunned by his sudden proposal, I could not respond that evening and told him so. “I can wait,” he said, and offered me time to consider. I had no thoughts of marrying the man, but when I asked Miss Sarah for advice, her apparent relief had me reconsider.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her hands clasped to her bosom. “I was hoping for this.” She caught herself when my face gave away my feelings. “Of course, only you can make this decision, my dear,” she added.

“I hadn’t truly considered it,” I said, and waited for her reply. “I mean … he is so old. I mean … for me …”

“Yes, I suppose you might see it that way,” she said, “but there is also the fact that because of his age, he is well established. And you do get on so well with Molly.

And think, my dear: I doubt you would want for anything. He was known to have been most generous with poor Mrs. Boran. And think of the changes you might bring to him! His clothes, his… I can scarcily imagine the improvement. Then there is the advantage that you would stay here in Williamsburg. You would not have to say good-bye to Meg, nor to us. Just think of it! Your own home, a place in this society—you would be readily accepted. I think this is most exciting, most fortunate. But the decision must be yours.”

When I told Meg of his proposal, she was appalled. “How can you consider it?” she asked. “He is a boring old man!”

“I don’t know, Meg. This might be my only chance.”

“What can you possibly mean?”

“What else am I to do?”

“For heaven’s sake, Vinny! Surely you can see beyond this!”

Fear underlay my angry response. “It’s easy for you, Meg. You have this home, you have a family. Every day you make choices that suit you. I don’t have that luxury!”

Meg misunderstood my anger. “Are you saying that my parents haven’t offered you every chance?”

“I’m saying that I am considering marriage to Mr. Boran, and I had hoped for your support!”

“That you’ll never have!”

I swung from Meg’s room and ran to my own. There, I shut the door and, too angry for tears, decided to write a letter to Belle. I sat at my desk and imagined her with me. I would tell her of my dilemma, of Cardigan’s death, and of Mr. Boran’s marriage proposal.

Then I thought of Mama Mae and of what she might say. I thought of Papa and the twins, and of how I longed to see them. Before I could stop it, my most distressing memory returned. It was of Sukey and her run to follow my carriage. Losing her remained so painful that I seldom allowed myself to think of it. Now, knowing I had lost them all forever, I was unable to write one word. I leaned over the paper, placed my head in my hands, and gave way to tears.

The following day I approached Miss Sarah once again and told her that I had decided to accept Mr. Boran’s proposal. Delighted, she suggested that we announce the engagement on my sixteenth birthday. When Mr. Madden was informed of this development, though less enthusiastic than his wife, he agreed to the wedding provided that I not marry until my seventeenth birthday. I was relieved to hear of this stipulation.

T
HE NEXT MONTH, ON THE
morning of June 5, I was called to the front parlor. I was curious, for this was not a common occurrence. Having already completed my morning preparations, I wouldn’t have bothered to stop and check myself in the long mirror, but I suspected
Miss Sarah had a friend visiting and would prefer that I look presentable. My dress, made of fine muslin, was simple enough and of a pale green that Meg said complemented my eyes. It hung straight and soft, the line broken by a wide dark green ribbon meant to emphasize the fashionable empire cut. I turned to the side and smiled, pleased to see that my trim figure had rounded to womanhood. I leaned in to check more closely and wondered again if my odd-colored amber eyes were inherited from my mother or my father.

I had no complaint with the oval shape of my face nor with my high cheekbones, and I wrinkled my nose at myself, happy that I had grown into it. The freckles continued to vex me, and I thought my lips too full, but I was pleased that my teeth were white and straight. My hair hung down in a schoolgirl fashion, and I tossed it, noting with some pride the deep auburn that caught the sun’s rays. The style of the day was to wear the hair in a knot with tendrils softening any severity, but Meg and I preferred our hair loose, using only combs to pull it back. Miss Sarah agreed to this provided we gave our promise that when convention demanded, we would dress it.

Ready to go, I looked out and was surprised to see Meg’s door still closed. Not wanting to keep Miss Sarah waiting, I went ahead without her.

I recognized the voice before I reached the front parlor, and my heart began to race. When I saw Will Stephens, when my eyes met his, all of my good training was forgotten. “Will!” I cried, rushing toward him, “Will!” I stopped myself short when I saw Miss Sarah’s frown. I remembered then to stand and wait for Will’s approach. When he reached me, I offered him my hand.

“And who is this?” he asked, but I could see that he was teasing.

“Will!” I could only say. “Will!”

“Lavinia,” Miss Sarah reminded me, “why don’t you invite our guest to sit?”

“Oh, please do,” I offered. Will smiled broadly as I led the way to the settee. After we were seated, Miss Sarah excused herself, saying that Nancy required her assistance.

“Will! Why are you here? When did you come? How is everyone? How long are you staying? Did anyone else come with you?” A hundred questions surfaced and tumbled forth.

Will laughed, and my heart was lost. My childhood infatuation came rushing back and my acquired years gave it additional weight. How beautiful he was: his smile, his sunbrowned face, his dark and happy eyes. I stared at him as he spoke, delighting in his every word.

All was well. He was here on business, he said, to renegotiate his contract as farm manager. He had some changes to make and wanted the approval of both Mr. Madden and Marshall before implementing them. He was proud to say the plantation was doing well, and as he told me about everyone, he remembered a packet from Belle. I held it, unopened, as I continued to quiz him about home.

Ben and Lucy had another baby. Uncle Jacob and Mama and Papa kept everything ready for the return of Miss Martha and Marshall.

I looked directly at him. “How is Belle?”

“She is as hardworking as ever,” he said. “She still misses you.”

“And Jamie?” I continued my hard stare.

Will noted me studying him, but his eyes held no embarrassment, nor did he waver when he answered, “He is well. How old was he when you left?”

“Nine months. He is at least three now.”

“Ah, yes, now you would see he is a sober little man, much as you were a sober little woman.”

I blushed with this tender intimacy. “And the twins?” I asked. “How are they?”

He laughed. He said that Fanny was proving to be a handful. Mama was keeping a tight rein on her since she and Eddy, Ida’s son, had developed an interest in each other. Fanny alone, he said, was a handful, but Fanny in love was a force to be reckoned with. Beattie, he assured me, was the same gentle girl she had always been, and she had taken over the care of Sukey.

“And Sukey—” My question was interrupted by Mr. Madden’s
sudden appearance. He came forward to greet Will, then informed me that Meg and the tutor were waiting for me.

“Mr. Stephens will be here for two days,” he said kindly when he saw my reluctance to leave. “You will have time for other visits, my dear.”

I knew to excuse myself as Mr. Madden waited to settle himself in a chair.

It was a Thursday, so I was surprised when Marshall joined us for dinner that afternoon. Marshall had not responded to the announcement of my engagement any better than had Meg, though Meg was over her upset as long as I did not discuss Mr. Boran. I was on my way to her room the night I overheard a terrific row between Marshall and Mr. Madden. Their voices from the study were so loud that I could plainly hear them from the top of the stairs.

“I said, I refuse to release her! You know I still have rights to her.”

“True, Marshall, the estate does. But her indentureship was not well defined, and surely you see why she must be given this opportunity.”

“Opportunity! He has little to offer! He is nothing but a lecherous old man!”

“Take care, Marshall. This man is a colleague of mine.”

“Uncle! You cannot presume that she will be happy!”

“Your aunt seems to think otherwise. She believes that this will be a good fit for Lavinia. And Lavinia is not opposed.”

“Lavinia? Opposed? I’ve known her all of my life. She is the gentlest creature I’ve ever seen. When has she ever opposed anything?”

“I’m sorry, Marshall, but this marriage is Mrs. Madden’s wish. I’m afraid that I must overrule you on this matter.”

“I refuse to go along with this! You cannot—”

“You know that I can, Marshall, and I will!”

The study door slammed, and after I slipped back to my room, I sat at my little desk, too despondent to cross the hall to visit Meg. I did not want to go through with the marriage, but I saw no way out. What alternative was available? Besides, I had made the commitment.

Little had changed after the announcement of our engagement. The Sunday dinners continued as before, though Meg refused to take part in the social gathering that always followed, where Molly clung to my side and Mr. Boran’s eyes never left me. Mr. Boran and I had met privately only one time, the evening of our formal announcement, when he presented me with an emerald brooch. He did so while he made a stammering remark that emeralds could not enhance my beauty, but as they were the finest, they might hold up to my loveliness. I thanked him, pinned the gift to my dress, and found myself at a complete loss for conversation. Before I could stop him, he was on his knees. He reached for my ungloved hand and began to cover it with such ardent, damp kisses that I could only observe his growing passion with alarm.

Imagining Meg witnessing her Mr. Boring at work, I had a fleeting impulse to laugh, but when his lips moved up to my wrist, I claimed back my hand, rose quickly, and suggested that we join the others. Mr. Boran’s eyes were glazed with desire, and I wanted to strike him when he jumped to his feet at my command. Yet as I wiped the remnants of his love kisses from my hand, for the first time ever, I felt the exuberant power of my womanhood. With horrid premonition, I saw in the future the likelihood of this man becoming a victim of my own unhappiness. Appalled at the thought, I was kinder than ever to the besotted Mr. B. for the rest of the evening, while Miss Sarah made much of my new jewelry.

Marshall had distanced himself from me following his argument with Mr. Madden. During our Saturday class, I often caught him observing me, and when I met his eye, he would turn away as though angry. Over the following weeks, without excuse, he often cut short our class and asked Meg to tell Miss Sarah that he could not stay for dinner.

T
HIS DAY, WITH
W
ILL AS
a dinner guest, Marshall was pleasant enough at the start of the meal, although, with each glass of wine, he challenged Will in increasingly cool undertones.

I could scarcely contain my excitement with Will’s presence. I
proudly observed his grace and good manners, though it was true that had I not caught his eye, he might have used his dessert spoon for his soup. But he saw my signal and winked his thanks, then followed my example.

Miss Sarah kept the conversation flowing. Meg encouraged Will to speak of the farm and of my earlier years there. He told some stories of my childhood that he claimed exhibited my precocious nature. After one such tale, with everyone laughing, he ended by saying how very much I was missed at Tall Oaks. I couldn’t help but smile broadly when his eyes rested on me.

We were all startled when Marshall stood to raise his wineglass. With flushed face, he spoke louder than was necessary. “Let us toast Lavinia,” he said. “I have high hopes that soon she will be returning to Tall Oaks with me. But this time it will be under improved circumstances.”

There was silence. Meg kicked me under the table. Will choked and began to cough. Finally, Mr. Madden responded. “Yes … well … one never knows, Marshall, ah … what the future might hold. But,” he continued, “perhaps it more appropriate that we toast Lavinia’s upcoming marriage to Mr. Boran.”

Although my head was down, I could feel Will’s astounded eyes on me. I was grateful when the toast was over and Miss Sarah rang the bell for dessert.

T
HAT FIRST EVENING OF
W
ILL’S
visit, after a light supper, he asked permission to escort me on a walk. Miss Sarah agreed but suggested that Meg accompany us. After a short distance, Meg pointedly began to lag behind. As Will and I walked ahead, he broke the silence.

“Belle was right, you know.”

“About what?”

“Years ago, on a wagon ride to church, you told me that Belle said you would grow up to be a beauty.”

I blushed to remember. “Thank you, Will.”

“Is it true, Lavinia? Are you to be married?” he asked.

“It was sudden—” I said.

“Is it what you want?”

“I don’t—” I began slowly.

Again he interrupted. “And what did Marshall mean at the dinner table when he spoke of you returning with him?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I began to walk quickly; without reason, tears were threatening.

Will reached for my arm and pulled me to a stop. He turned me to face him. “Lavinia, I might be foolish for saying this, but I’ve always thought of you as my girl.”

My chest ached. His words sounded genuine, but before I could respond, before I could bring up Belle and question his relationship with her, Meg caught up to us. “Mother says that I am to stay with you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Will graciously offered his other arm to Meg. As he did so, he leaned over and spoke in my ear, his nearness so affecting that I felt weak. “We will talk later,” he said, but to my frustration and regret, we did not have the opportunity to meet in private again that evening.