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  ZONDERVAN

  Daring Bride

  Copyright © 1997 Jane Peart

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

  ePub Edition August 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-82990-4

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  ZondervanPublishingHouse

  Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  * * *

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Peart, Jane.

  Daring Bride : Montclair at the crossroads, 1932–1939 / Jane Peart.

  p. cm.

  ISBN: 0-310-20209-4

  I. Title. II. Series: Peart, Jane. Brides of Montclair series ; bk. 13.

  PS3566.E238D37 1997

  813’.54—dc21 97-12008

  CIP

  * * *

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible: New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973,1978,1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  chapter 15

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  chapter 18

  chapter 19

  chapter 20

  chapter 21

  chapter 22

  chapter 23

  chapter 24

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  Mayfield, Virginia

  Fall 1932

  THE ELDERLY WOMAN standing at the gates to Montclair was elegant if not fashionable. Her ensemble was identical to the style originated by the British monarch Queen Mary, from the creamy beige silk turban, the coat, collared and cuffed in pale lynx, to the French-heeled kid pumps. Although Garnet considered it flattering to have her resemblance to the sovereign of her adopted country commented upon, she maintained a distinctive style of her own. Never one to imitate, she refused to follow slavishly the current trend of hemlines, wearing hers long enough to complete her dignified appearance, short enough to show off her still-lovely ankles.

  Today Garnet Devlin’s thoughts were less on appearance than on the earlier part of her long life. Looking through the ornate scrolls of iron lace toward the house, memories flowed over her.

  A sudden rise in the wind rippled the ruff of fur collar. Although the afternoon was not cold, Garnet shivered. Foolish to dwell in the past. It was the present that demanded her attention. She was back in the United States, in her native Virginia, to see her grandchildren.

  She was on her way to Cameron Hall, her childhood home, a few miles further along the country road. Her nephew Scott and his English wife, Jill, now lived there, and she was to stay with them during her visit. It had only been on impulse that Garnet: had told her driver to stop at the entrance to Montclair.

  She had delayed long enough. She started to turn back to the Chrysler limousine, which she had rented in Richmond, when something caught her eye—a small sign posted to the left of the gate.

  Riding Instruction, Beginners through Jumping

  Quality Horses, English Saddle

  Also Pony Classes, Ages 5–8

  Cara Montrose, Instructor

  Experienced, Enthusiastic, Patient

  Inquiries Welcome—Phone: 2375

  A frown drew her arched brows together. What in the world was this? Cara teaching riding? She would certainly have to ask Scott about this. Were Kip and Cam’s finances that bad that she was reduced to being a riding instructor? Things must have come to a pretty pass at Montclair if that was the case.

  Garnet pursed her lips thoughtfully Well, she’d soon get to the bottom of this. She walked back to the car, and the chauffeur assisted her into the backseat. She leaned back against the cushioned seat as the car started. Good thing she had made the effort to come. There were things here she must see about.

  Her concern for the youngest of her grandchildren, Bryanne Montrose, was the main reason she had made this trip. A letter from Brynie’s older sister, Lynette Maynard, the wife of a state senator, had prompted this visit. From what Garnet had gathered, Bryanne was still mourning for the young Irishman she had loved. On a visit to his family in Ireland during the time in which that beautiful country had been plagued by the strife they called the Troubles, Sean had been killed. It had been a case of mistaken identity. He had been shot in a street battle, caught in the crossfire between the Sein Fein, the revolutionary underground army, and the British militia. He had died instantly.

  It was heartbreaking, to be sure. But Bryanne had grieved long enough. Life was for the living. Garnet had learned that from her own tragic experiences. She must make Bryanne realize that she was still young, that: life held a great deal more for her than sorrow. Surely she would listen to reason from her grandmother, who, after all, had raised her from the time she was five years old until she was eighteen.

  Garnet pressed her lips together firmly. She also intended to have a talk with Cara regarding this nonsense about horseback riding lessons. A surge of energy flowed through her. Yes, indeed, coming back had been a good idea. There was a great deal for her to do during this visit. There were problems to solve, things to set straight, steps to be taken. She felt rejuvenated.

  chapter

  1

  Montclair

  THE OLD BRASS knocker on the paneled front door needed polishing, Cara thought, glancing at it as she swept the windblown leaves off the wide veranda. She made a face. One more thing to do before the family began to arrive for Aunt Garnet’s party. Another reminder of how she’d neglected keeping Montclair to its old level of perfection. But they never used the front entrance anymore. Hardly ever had what you’d call company.

  Recently they had all been so busy. Rip at the airfield as an instructor, she giving riding lessons, trying to keep up the stables with little help and less money.

  With Aun
t Garnet’s visit, she now had to get busy, get things in order. Especially since she had volunteered to host the birthday dinner party at Montclair. Cara shook her head ruefully. Another one of those reckless impulses that had got her into trouble most of her life. But Garnet had come here as the bride of Bryce Montrose, her first husband, and it somehow seemed appropriate to have the party here.

  Thank goodness Kitty would be here to help. Of course, Kitty would notice every single tiling that needed doing! Kitty was as opposite Cara as a twin sister could be.

  With a final swoop of the broom, Cara went inside. Looking around herself and seeing the house through her sister’s eyes, Cara realized that it badly needed a great deal of attention.

  When she had first come here after marrying Kip in Paris five years ago, she had had the best of intentions. She remembered the dismay and discouragement she felt when she had opened the door of Montclair. But she shouldn’t have been surprised. Kip and Luc had lived here alone after Mattie, their longtime housekeeper, retired.

  The house had become a repository of museum-quality pieces alongside wicker sets that needed both repairing and repainting. Fan-backed Victorian chairs with curved legs and shredded velvet upholstery were set opposite worn leather Morris recliners. Priceless mahogany Duncan Phyfe tables bore white circles where glasses had been carelessly placed. Fine portraits hung slightly askew, their elaborate gold frames covered with dust.

  Cara had had her work cut out for her. Not that keeping a perfect house or entertaining was something she had wanted to spend the rest of her life doing. But some semblance of order had to be made of that chaos to be able to have a home where children could live and grow up in some sort of normal fashion.

  She had been sure there would be children besides Nicole, the little French orphan she had brought back to Virginia, and Luc, Kip’s son by his first marriage. Cara had wanted a whole houseful of little Montroses running about. However, there hadn’t been the slightest sign that this dream would be fulfilled, and by now Cara had given up hope. After all, she was nearly forty. She had started to wonder if they should think of adoption.…

  Well, that decision was for a less hectic day. First things first.

  Cara made a slow walk through the downstairs, but her mind couldn’t seem to stay in one place. She kept thinking of Paris and how it had been for them. Lost in thoughts of the past, she did not hear the back door open or Kip’s footsteps. He had left his boots outside and was in his stocking feet. He came up behind where she was standing, encircled her waist, and kissed her cheek.

  Startled, she twisted around and pushed him a little away, saying, “You scared me, sneaking up on me like that!”

  “I live here!” he said in mock protest. “Can’t I walk into my own house, kiss my own wife?”

  Trying to recover her composure, she asked, “Where’s Luc?”

  “With Niki. They’re feeding the ducks,” he told her and released her.

  “You’d better shower and change,” she said: “I’m not sure when Kitty will get here.”

  Kip started toward the stairway and then turned back, “Oh, by the way, Beau and Tim are coming for supper.”

  Cara bit back the words she had almost flung at him—Why didn’t you let me know? It was, after all, Kip’s home. He could invite whomever he wanted here. She just wished…Then she remembered she’d put in a roast earlier. Having dinner guests just meant cutting up more vegetables, potatoes.

  Beau Chartyrs and Tim Pratney were fellow flyers, friends of long standing. Tim had been with Kip in the Lafayette Esquadrille, the squad of American volunteers who had flown for France in the war. The two of them had been among the very few survivors of that group. They shared memories, a love of flying, a friendship that was bonded in steel, a camaraderie that would last a lifetime.

  That’s OK, isn’t it?” Kip asked.

  “Sure,” Cara said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.

  She took some potatoes to the sink and began scrubbing them, her mind still occupied with Aunt Garnet’s coming visit. For as long as she could remember, the old lady had caused ripples. Garnet had never got over being the prettiest belle in Mayfield, a pampered daughter and wife used to having her own way. She still liked to have her way, even if it meant manipulating other people’s lives. Poor Bryanne. She was probably in for it this time.

  Kitty Traherne took the turn off the highway, drove through Main Street, then onto the familiar country road. Her neck felt tight and her back ached. The drive from Williamsburg was long and depressing. So much of what had been quaint and picturesque about the countryside seemed to have vanished. Of course, Rockefeller money was restoring Williamsburg to its Colonial beginnings, or so it was rumored. But Mayfield looked dreary, its buildings drab, run-down. The depression had taken its toll, and there was no northern multimillionaire interested in a small, out-of-the-way, rural Virginia town of no particular significance.

  It was late afternoon when Kitty started up the winding road that led to Montclair. Halfway up she drew to a stop. A turn to the right would take her to Eden Cottage. So many memories of Richard and their life together there swept over her, memories she still did not feel strong enough to face. Someday perhaps she could go back there to live, but not yet.

  The last few weeks, spent traveling, speaking, signing Richard’s poetry books, relating to people almost constantly, had been exhausting. Now, with Aunt Garnet’s arrival, there was the family reunion to face. What Kitty really wanted, really needed, was time to herself, time to think, to pray, to plan. Where did she go from here?

  With a sigh, she turned on the ignition, shifted, and drove the rest of the way up to the house. There she braked and got out of the car, just as the front door opened and Cara came running down the steps, calling, “Kitty! Wonderful. I was beginning to wonder, but here you are. Come in. Welcome back to Montclair!”

  “There’s so much to talk about, so much to catch up on,” Cara said, curling up at the bottom of the bed in the room Kitty would be using while she was here. “Did you know Aunt Garnet has arrived?”

  “Yes. I thought she was here. I had dinner with her at her hotel in New York before she left for Richmond.” She paused. “You heard about Evalee, didn’t you?”

  “No, what about our dear cousin?” Cara asked sarcastically. Evalee Bondurant had never been one of her favorite relatives.

  “She’s married,” Kitty told her. “To a Russian count.”

  “You’re kidding!” exclaimed Cara, astonished, sitting up straight.

  “No, it’s true. Aunt Garnet can fill you in on the details. She attended the wedding.”

  “Where?”

  “In Paris. You knew that Aunt Dru and Evalee were over there. They’d been to visit Leonora and Lalage, then went on to France. And that’s where the romance happened.”

  “Ah, Paris!” Cara affected a dreamy expression. “But really, a count? That sounds like something Evalee would do.”

  “An. impoverished count, I’m afraid. One of the many White Russian émigrés that fled when the Bolshevik revolution took place.”

  Cara shook her head. “Hmmm. Then our luxury-loving cousin won’t be living in a palace, after all.”

  “More likely a garret, I suspect. They’re all refugees, lucky to get out with their lives.”

  Just then a knock came at the door. “Tante, I want to see Aunt Kitty,” came a child’s voice.

  The sisters exchanged glances. “Niki, and probably Luc too,” Cara said, then raised her voice. “OK, come on in.”

  The door opened and in rushed a little girl, small-boned, with dark, curly hair and huge, sparkling brown eyes. She flung herself into the arms Kitty held out to her. A tall boy followed more slowly and stood waiting for the enthusiastic hugs and greetings between his aunt and adopted sister to be over. Then he stepped up and thrust out his hand to Kitty. Over his head Kitty’s eyes met Cara’s amused ones. Luc, at twelve, was giving notice that he was too old for sissy stuff like kisses
.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Cara said. “Some friends of Kip’s will be here for dinner.”

  “Had I better change?” Kitty asked.

  “Heavens, no!” Cara got up and moved to the bedroom door. “They’re just some of his flying buddies. Practically family,” she flung over her shoulder as she went out of the room, not waiting for Kitty’s reaction to this additional information. Cara knew how Kitty felt about Kip’s continuing interest in flying. She called it his protracted “daredevil ace” obsession, something he should have got over by this time. Cara just hoped her twin wouldn’t let her own distaste for any reminder of the war spoil what could be a pleasant evening.

  chapter

  2

  A FEW MILES away, over at Cameron Hall, Garnet was regaling Scott and Jill with her account of Evalee’s wedding.

  “Wouldn’t you guess, she wanted as elegant a wedding gown and as lavish a reception as if her family were still in Charleston society! Of course, Dru was beside herself. Who wouldn’t be, if a daughter was determined to marry a man whose background, religion, and outlook were so foreign? Would you believe the child had only known him two weeks?”

  Garnet looked at each of them in turn, expecting an affirmative response, then continued. “Naturally, as soon as I heard about it, I went to Paris. Dru needed family support, and I intended to give it to her.”

  “What’s the guy’s name?” asked Scott.

  “Andre Oblenskov. I think that’s the way it’s pronounced.”

  “And what was he like?” This was from Jill.

  “Charming, I must say! Looks like a movie star. Has eyes like Rudolph Valentino.” Garnet’s own eyes twinkled in the telling. “It’s not hard to understand how someone as romantic and irresponsible as Evalee would fall for him. Of course, she’s been spoiled all her life, stubborn, self-centered. Randall doted upon her, never denied her anything. No wonder!” Garnet threw out her hands in a helpless gesture.

  “Tell us about the wedding,” urged Jill.

  “Well, my dear, it was like nothing you or I ever saw, I can say that. I felt I was witnessing a play. It was very strange indeed. It took place in a small Russian Orthodox church. They were married by a dark-bearded priest dressed in elegant robes, embroidered and trimmed in gold braid. Of course, Dru and I didn’t understand a word he said, but actually it was quite beautiful. At the end of the ceremony, he held two golden crowns over their heads and made a sign of the cross over them as he blessed them.”