Come Be My Love (16 page)

Charlotte looked directly at Sarah. "Perhaps you'd be better qualified to answer than I am."

Sarah's face felt as if it were on fire. "I don't know what you mean," she said, wondering exactly how much Charlotte, Flora, and Elizabeth knew about her relationship with Jon. They obviously knew something, perhaps even what happened on the beach. Had these women set up this little gathering to question her? Or perhaps to embarrass and humiliate her?

Charlotte shrugged. "You were a guest in his home, weren't you?"

"Well, yes," Sarah said, "but he certainly didn't talk about his romantic liaisons."

Elizabeth nudged Charlotte. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Char. You can't really believe the governor would discuss his liaisons with his sister's houseguest. After all, he is a gentleman."

Charlotte gave Elizabeth a wry smile. "He may be a gentleman, but he did, in fact, mention something about one of his liaisons to my brother."

"He did?" Elizabeth moved closer. "What did he say, and about whom?"

Sarah's stomach churned. Would Jon possibly have said something to Charlotte's brother about what happened on the beach?

Charlotte raised her hand to hold her bonnet in place. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. I gave Henry my word."

"Char, you know you're going to tell us. You're dying to," Elizabeth said. "So why not just go ahead and say it."

Charlotte hesitated for a moment, her eyes glowing with suppressed excitement. "It was about Mary Letitia... that she suggested to Jon that they marry."

When Charlotte offered nothing more, Elizabeth said, "That's all?"

Charlotte blinked several times. "Well… yes. But don't you know what that means?"

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Well, I imagine it means that Mary Letitia wants to marry Jon and she had to ask him since he didn't ask her."

Charlotte sighed. "Sometimes you can be thickheaded, Elizabeth. What it means is that Mary Letitia has most probably compromised herself. Perhaps she's even... with child."

Flora glanced at Sarah, a contrite smile on her lips. "Please don't think Elizabeth and Charlotte are busybodies," she said, "but sometimes Mary Letitia really gets our dander up. And I agree with Char. It wouldn't surprise me if Mary Letitia compromised herself to get Jon to wed her, if she truly believed there was no other way."

Sarah gave Flora a weak smile and said nothing. She tried to dismiss the disturbing thought of Jon wed to Mary Letitia... of Jon kissing her in the way she knew he could kiss... whispering endearments to her, holding her in his arms while making wild, passionate love to her... "No!" she burst out suddenly. All three women turned and looked at her with a start.

Sarah blushed. "I mean... no, I can't imagine she'd do that." She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump of melancholy in her throat.

"Oh, she would all right," Elizabeth assured her. She leaned forward, resting her hand on the back of Sarah's seat. "When Mary Letitia goes after something she wants, she doesn't stop until she gets it. You just watch her today. I'll venture to say she'll lure Jon onto her blanket, which will be spread some distance from the activities and, of course, out of sight. Then Jon will find himself eating from her picnic basket, which will undoubtedly contain an array of delicacies that no man could resist. And who knows what will happen behind the cover of the bushes, or in Jon's coach, especially if Mary Letitia has already compromised herself with him." She smiled brightly. "I do believe it will be an interesting day."

Sarah fixed her eyes on the road ahead, trying to maintain an indifferent facade, when in fact her stomach was tied in knots. But she refused to allow speculation about whether Jon was again involved romantically with Mary Letitia Windemere to dampen her spirits.

They turned into Beacon Hill Park and Flora pulled the wagon to a halt. Immediately, Sarah spotted Jon's midnight-blue coach. Parked behind the coach was a black-and-green phaeton that Sarah recognized as Jon's personal vehicle. Apparently, the entire family had come to the picnic, including, she suspected with some apprehension, Lady Cromwell. For the moment, no one made a move to climb down.

Scanning the crowd for Jon, Sarah noted the ladies in their ginghams and calicoes, and she contemplated the wisdom of joining the picnickers dressed as she was. But perhaps Mary Letitia had already arrived and paved the way for what was to come—four more women in bloomer costumes—and the crowd's shock at such a display would have passed.

A short distance from the wagon, Sarah noticed several young men nudging one another, whispering and pointing in their direction, though they actually seemed to be amused by something just behind them.

"
Psst
! Miss Ashley?" Josephine's voice came from out of nowhere. Josephine stepped from behind a tree, and to Sarah's mortification, she was wearing the pair of black bloomers she’d given her. "May I join you?" she asked.

Sarah bristled. "No, you may not!" she said in a sharp voice, knowing what the ramification would be when Jon and his mother discovered that Josephine had defied them in such a brazen way. "Go home and change into a dress at once."

Josephine scurried up to the wagon and peered over the sideboards. "But you're wearing a bloomer costume," she protested. "Please, may I join you?"

"Absolutely not! Your father and grandmother would be shocked with you and furious with me for having allowed you to join us. Now, have Peterson take you home at once and be quick about it before anyone sees you.”

Josephine's mouth drooped in a frown. She slumped her shoulders and started across the road where Peterson stood waiting by the coach. Satisfied that Josephine would do as she'd been told, Sarah turned to find Flora staring in the distance, eyes narrowed, lips pressed in an angry slash. "Well, ladies," she said, disgusted, "it appears that we've been duped mightily by one Mary Letitia Windemere. And guess who she's with?"

Sarah glanced in the direction of Flora's gaze and froze. Leaning with one hand propped against a tree, the other holding a cigarette, was Jon. Beside him stood Mary Letitia. She reached up and brushed something from Jon's lips and laughed, and Jon didn't appear to mind the flirtation. It was obvious where he'd been for the past week.

It was some moments before Sarah's attention was drawn to what Mary Letitia was wearing. Not the silk tunic and bloomers as planned, but instead, a stylish promenade dress trimmed with ruches, rosettes, and tassels. Twirling her lace parasol against her shoulder, she smiled and chatted with Jon while making little feminine gestures with her hand. Whatever she was saying seemed to interest him. His eyes appeared fixed on the woman.

Lady Cromwell, who stood opposite Jon and Mary Letitia, also seemed charmed by Mary Letitia. Sarah had never seen the older woman wearing such a gracious smile.

"I don't understand," Flora said. "Why would Mary Letitia talk us into wearing bloomers, and seem so anxious to wear them herself, then not do so?"

"It's fairly obvious," Charlotte replied. "She intended for us to look like fools so she would stand out as the perfect lady. That's typical of Mary Letitia."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "I told you she'd do anything to turn Jon's head."

Sarah felt anger coiling inside as she considered how eagerly Jon had bestowed kisses on her when he obviously had another woman waiting in the wings, one whom he'd thought enough of to escort to the picnic. "Well, Mary Letitia Windemere might take us all for fools," Sarah said, her eyes narrowing when she saw Mary Letitia reach down and take a small tidbit from her picnic basket and stuff it into Jon's mouth, "but I refuse to let her put a damper on my day. And I hope the rest of you feel the same as I."

"I certainly do," Elizabeth said. "I came here to enjoy myself and that's exactly what I intend to do." She glanced around at the others. "Shall we go have the time of our lives, ladies, and show that peagoose, Mary Letitia Windemere, that her little ploy didn't work, that we will partake in the croquet tournament and the sack race, while she can do nothing more but stand around in her fancy dress and ogle the governor."

Sarah forced her lips into a smile and nodded in agreement, but inside she felt as if all the luster had gone out of her life. If Jon had withdrawn his affections from Mary Letitia, why had he suddenly changed his mind and asked her to accompany him to the picnic? Was it because of what happened on the beach? Or rather, what had not happened, that he’d rushed back into Mary
Letitia's
obviously welcoming arms? Jon had been clearly frustrated when he stormed off.

Deciding she would ignore Jon for the duration of the picnic, Sarah turned to help the women gather the parasols, blankets, and picnic baskets from the wagon. Walking in a tight group, they headed toward the concessions, and before long, a gathering of mocking male followers accompanied them. "Hey, ladies," one bellowed, "how about joining me in a smoke... maybe share a nice fat see-gar?"

"They'd probably rather share a chaw," another shouted.

Husky laughs erupted, followed by heckles and wolf calls. Another man yelled, "Looks like Jeremy's no longer
wearin
' the pants in the family, eh, Flora?"

When it became evident that the men, with their snide remarks, were intent on making them as uncomfortable as possible, Sarah said to the women, "Hold your heads high, ladies, keep your eyes focused straight ahead and just ignore them. They'll soon get bored and leave us alone."

Flora nervously scanned the faces of the men parading along with them, and said in an anxious voice, "I surely hope Jeremy doesn't change his mind and decide to come. I left him home working in the garden."

Charlotte looked at her in surprise. "I thought you told him about the bloomers. You always boast that he's such a reasonable man. Or do you just say that to impress us?"

"He is reasonable," Flora said. "I just didn't get the chance to tell him. Did you tell Ned?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I started to. But you know Ned, always worrying about his patients and their ailments and all. I didn't want to cause him any more worry than he already had."

Elizabeth pursed her lips. "Ned would absolutely die if he knew you were here in bloomers, and you know it."

Charlotte's eyes darkened. "I suppose you told Charles."

"Of course I didn't tell Charles," Elizabeth said. "I'm not a fool. Charles would skin me alive. But he's in Esquimalt so he'll never know."

"That's what you think," Charlotte said, eyes fixed straight ahead.

Elizabeth froze. "Oh... my… goodness! He's here!"

Sarah gazed in the distance and saw a man approaching, his long strides quickly closing the gap between them. From the look on his anger-reddened face, she knew he was anything but amused by his wife's display. "Now don't let him bully you," she told Elizabeth as Charles Thurman drew closer. "Just stand your ground."

"Stand my ground! He's furious!"

"That may be," Sarah said, "but you have a perfect right to dress as you wish, without your husband's approval. And you must let him know that he simply cannot dictate your fashion." Seeing the scowl on Charles Thurman's face, Sarah wasn't sure she was giving Elizabeth the best advice, but then, Elizabeth must learn to stand up to her husband.

Elizabeth drew in an anxious breath. "All right. I'll try." Sucking in a long breath, she stepped from the group and said, "Charles, I can explain—"

"You can get the hell out of here, that's what you can do!" Charles said, taut cords standing out in his neck. He reached for her arm, but Elizabeth shook his hand away and moved to stand between Flora and Sarah. "I'm sorry you feel this way," she said, her voice faltering, "but the fact is, I intend to stay at the picnic with my friends."

"Not in those, you won't!" Charles said.

Elizabeth raised her chin. "You cannot dictate my fashion, Charles. I'm a grown woman, and if I choose to wear a bloomer costume, that's exactly what I shall do."

"Like hell you will!"

"Please lower your voice. You're creating a scene."

"Good! Now either come with me quietly, or I'll bodily carry you off."

"
Attaway
, Thurman!" a man called from the crowd that was quickly closing in around them. “Put her in her place or she’ll have you parading around in them things.”

Guffaws of laughter rose from the crowd.

Charles Thurman looked around at the hecklers. Grabbing Elizabeth's arm, he tugged her away. "When we get home, I'll personally rip those clothes off you."

"What are you gonna to do then, Thurman?" another voice shouted. "She's the one wearing the pants now."

"He'd better show her while he still can who's the man in the family," someone else called. "Looks like she needs a little taming."

Charles Thurman said nothing, but Sarah had an uneasy feeling that once home, he'd indeed show Elizabeth who was the man in the house. She didn't think Charles Thurman had ever beaten his wife, so she assumed he'd assert his masculinity in the only other way she could imagine. For an instant, she had an image of Jon ripping off her bloomer costume and asserting himself in that way. In her fantasy, she visualized her naked back and Jon's naked front, but she had trouble filling in the details. She'd never seen a naked man before.

"Flora!"