Valiant Bride Read online

  Valiant Bride

  Book One

  of the Brides of Montclair Series

  JANE PEART

  ZONDERVAN

  VALIANT BRIDE

  Copyright © 1985, 1989 by 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 eBook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down loaded, 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 © June 2009 ISBN: 978-0-310-83446-5

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan Publishing House

  1415 Lake Drive, S.E.

  Grand Rapids, Michigan 49506

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:

  Peart, Jane.

  Valiant bride / by Jane Peart.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 0-310-66951-0

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

  bk. 1.

  PS3566.E238V35 1989

  813'.54—dc20

  89-34341

  CIP

  91 92 93 94 95 / LP / 10 9 8 7 6 5

  To Irma Ruth Walker, my friend,

  whose faith in me and this series contributed greatly

  to its creation

  Contents

  Cover

  Title page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part I: Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  Part II: He who finds a good wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord.

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  chapter 14

  chapter 15

  Part III: Wrath is cruel, and anger is outrageous; but who is able to stand before envy? Open rebuke is better than secret love.

  chapter 16

  chapter 17

  chapter 18

  chapter 19

  Part IV: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire comes, it is the tree of life.”

  chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Family Tree

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  Part I

  Boast not thyself of tomorrow;

  for thou knowest not what a day

  may bring forth.

  Proverbs 27:1

  chapter

  1

  “WELL, WILLIAM, whatever shall we do now!” demanded Elizabeth Barnwell of her portly husband.

  But all Squire Barnwell seemed capable of doing at the moment was to stare into the empty fireplace of the parlor in their Williamsburg home and to shake his head, a bewildered expression on his ruddy face.

  While waiting for some answer from him, Betsy reread the note she held in her hands. Then, looking up at her husband again, she tapped it against her palm impatiently.

  Betsy frowned, eyeing her husband’s appearance, which was in sharp contrast to his usual meticulously groomed state. Today Squire Barnwell’s powdered wig was askew and the buttons of his waistcoat had been fastened hastily, as if a five-year-old had been practicing. And it is no wonder! Betsy sighed. The shock they had just received would unsettle the most staid of men.

  Indeed, both of them had been badly shaken by a totally unimaginable domestic crisis. Practically on the eve of her wedding, their eldest daughter had eloped with her French tutor, leaving only a scribbled note for them to find after she was safely away.

  Who would have ever believed it of the girl? Even though Winnie was prone to flightiness at times, to behave in such an irresponsible manner was inexcusable!

  Really! It was almost too much to bear. Betsy smoothed out the wrinkled scrap of paper clenched in her hands and read for the tenth time the hastily written explanation. Her eyes misted with tears of frustration and indignation more than grief. A mother with four marriageable daughters prepares herself all their lives for the bittersweet moment of parting on their wedding days; and Betsy had been particularly proud of the good match Winnie had made with Duncan Montrose, a wealthy planter.

  “Well, ‘pride goeth before a fall’,” Betsy quoted. That foolish girl had allowed her infatuation with the suave foreigner to render her widess, and she had run off with him. By now they were probably in Yorktown, perhaps already aboard a ship sailing for England.

  Betsy bristled, setting her ruffled cap atrembling. Winnie had gone with not the slightest care for the havoc she left behind nor the wrecked plans for the wedding only two months hence, not to mention her jilted fiancé.

  William glanced over at his wife. Never in the twenty years they had been married had he seen her so upset. He himself was at a loss as to what the next sensible step should be. The silence between them lengthened. Suddenly they heard the sound of lightly running feet on the polished floor along the hall. Then followed a tap on the closed parlor door, and the familiar voice of their orphaned ward, Noramary Marsh asking “May I come in?”

  As if on cue, Betsy’s eyes met William’s in a long, measured look. No words were needed to convey the thought that was born in that instant. Noramary, William’s niece whom they had taken into their home when she was twelve, was now an appealing seventeen—only a year younger than Winnie.

  Quickly Betsy gave William an imperceptible nod, then, tucking Winnie’s note into her apron pocket, she called, “Yes, dear, come in.”

  The door opened slightly and around its edge peered an enchanting face. The coloring was perfection—the pink and porcelain complexion bestowed on country-reared English girls by a benevolent Creator. Masses of dark curls framed her forehead and fell in disarray about her shoulders. Her eyes were deep blue and darkly lashed; her smile, radiant. She was wearing a simple blue muslin dress and a wide-brimmed straw gardening hat that had slipped from her head and now hung around her neck, suspended by wide ribbons exactly the color of her eyes. She was holding a flat wicker basket filled with spring flowers.

  Noramary was unaware of the charming picture she made, and of the silent appraisal her foster parents were making of her assets.

  “I just wanted to show you the flowers I picked, Auntie.” Noramary smiled, holding the basket out so her aunt could see her choice. “The pinks will be perfect for the centerpiece tonight. Or do you like the daisies better?”

  “Oh, yes, tonight—well, dear, they are lovely, but there is something—” Betsy paused, lowering her voice. “Come in, Noramary, and close the door, please. Your uncle and I must talk with you.”

  The Barnwells’ eyes met again, and this time there was no mistaking the message that passed between them. Of course! Noramary! Why had they not thought of her at once? Noramary would be the most suitable substitute for her cousin as Duncan Montrose’s bride. Thus the family honor would be saved and disgrace averted, not to mention the sizable dowry already paid to the Montrose clan by the Barnwell family, the latter not to be dismissed lightly, considering the Squire’s recent financial reverses.

  William Barnwell cleared his throat, turned toward the empty grate, and absentmindedly extended his hands to a nonexistent fire. He decided to let his wife handle this delicate matter. Al
though usually quite direct, she could, when the occasion required, be very diplomatic. An admirable woman, he thought gratefully, equal to any situation.

  Noramary stepped into the room, closing the parlor door quietly behind her, never imagining that this conversation was to change her life forever.

  “Sit down, dear,” Aunt Betsy said gently, gesturing toward one of the needlepoint-covered chairs. “A most distressing thing has happened,” she began solemnly, “and we want to tell you before we tell the younger girls.”

  chapter

  2

  LESS THAN AN HOUR later Noramary came out of the parlor into the hall. Stunned by what she had just heard, she felt slightly light-headed and leaned against the closed door for a moment to steady herself.

  The shock of Winnie’s elopement sometime during the night had been followed almost immediately by a second— the staggering request of her foster parents that she step into her errant cousin’s place as the bride of Duncan Montrose!

  “So you see, my dear, why we must ask this of you?” Aunt Betsy’s voice rang in her ears.

  Noramary closed her eyes, bringing back the scene which had just taken place. As her aunt explained the dilemma Winnie’s irresponsibility had brought about and what must now be done, Noramary had sat very still, eyes downcast, hands folded in her lap, hearing but not fully absorbing her aunt’s words. Now those same words burst upon her, strong and clear, exploding in her head.

  “—marry Duncan Montrose!” Marry Duncan Montrose!

  Distractedly Noramary set down the basket of flowers she had picked up and carried out into the hallway with her. Moving woodenly, she crossed over to the staircase and, clinging to the banister, mounted the steps with weighted limbs. She felt strangely burdened, frightened, and confused. Suddenly all the joy, the lovely, comforting warmth she had found here in the Barnwells’ home was slipping away. Once again, in her short lifetime, she was experiencing that sense of aloneness—like a little boat adrift without its mooring.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, she went swiftly down the hall, passing Winnie’s bedroom as she did, wondering how her cousin had managed to slip out of the house in the middle of the night with no one the wiser. Pausing at the door of the room she shared with her other cousin, she listened for sounds of Laura’s moving about within and then opened the door cautiously. To her relief, she found it empty. Then she remembered that Laura had gone for a final fitting of the bridesmaid’s gown she was to wear at Winnie’s wedding.

  Will she wear it now—at mine? Noramary drew a long breath. The enormity of what had been asked of her swept over her. To marry a man who had been betrothed to her cousin—a man she barely knew, practically a stranger!

  But how could she refuse to do as they asked? When as a twelve-year-old child she had been sent from England to Virginia, the Barnwells had opened their home and hearts to her. When there had been no place for her with her half-brother Simon, newly married to the haughty Lady Leatrice, they had welcomed her here. There was so much for which she could never repay them. To Noramary, her duty was clear.

  Shakily she sat down on the edge of one of the maple spool beds, trying to bring to mind a clear image of Duncan Montrose.

  The first time she had ever seen him was a year ago at Christmastime on the night of the Barnwells’ annual holiday open house. Winnie, who had met him at another party earlier in the season, had boasted to Noramary of “the attractive Scotsman” whom she had invited to her home. Winnie was forever falling in love. None of the infatuations ever lasted for very long, so Noramary paid little attention to her cousin’s enthusiastic description. Besides, she was much too preoccupied with thoughts of her own beau, Robert Stedd. That evening, however, she had gone into Winnie’s room to borrow some ribbons for her hair, when suddenly Winnie had called her over to the window.

  “Come quick, Noramary! Duncan Montrose has just arrived! You must see how handsome he is!”

  Curious, Noramary had rushed to Winnie’s side. Peering over her shoulder, she watched below as a man dismounted from his horse. It was already dark and, with only the light streaming out from the downstairs windows and the meager illumination of the street lamps, she had only the impression of a tall, broad-shouldered figure moving with easy grace across the cobbled courtyard.

  He had tossed his reins to the boy stationed outside to attend to the guests’ horses, then stood for a minute, brushing the falling snow from his caped greatcoat with his tricorne hat. Then almost as if aware that he was being observed, he had lifted his head and looked directly up to where the two girls were peeking at him from behind the curtains. Startled to be caught so handily, both girls had jumped back, giggling.

  Later, downstairs, Winnie had brought him over to be introduced to Noramary.

  At close range, Duncan Montrose was taller than he had appeared from her vantage point at the bedroom window, was Noramary’s first thought. Her second was that he was every bit as handsome as Winnie had claimed. His strong features were classically molded, with skin bearing the bronzed glow of a man much outdoors. Although elegantly attired for the occasion, he was not the least foppish. His fine blue broadcloth coat was superbly tailored. The pleated cravat and ruffled shirt of white linen boasted exquisite lace trim, and the crested buttons on his gray satin waistcoat were of silver.

  But there was something else about Duncan Montrose that Noramary now remembered. Something Winnie had never mentioned. Something compelling—a directness, an inner confidence without affectation, a maturity that belied his years. His was a strong face, a magnificent face, full of character, she decided. And then there were his eyes—clear, gray, thickly and darkly fringed, strangely searching.

  But does anyone recognize a moment of destiny in life? Noramary asked herself as she recalled that first meeting. They had exchanged the usual pleasantries and yet, now that she thought about it, she remembered there had been something unusual about that first encounter.

  As he acknowledged their introduction and bent over her extended hand, his eyes had held hers intently for a few seconds. In that fraction of time, everything surrounding them—the laughter, the music, the guests—momentarily dimmed, and something infinitely important passed between them.

  Recalling that long-ago evening, Noramary remembered something else she had almost forgotten. When Duncan’s lips brushed her fingertips, her heart had lifted lightly. Duncan had held her hand a little longer than necessary, raising his eyes to linger on her face. Noramary had turned away quickly, glad to see Robert crossing the room to claim her for the next reel.

  Robert! With a sudden clutch of panic, Noramary realized that in all the confusion of the morning’s events, she had completely forgotten Robert! It seemed unimaginable that her first thought was not of him!

  A half-sob escaped Noramary’s tight throat. Robert— whom she loved so dearly and who loved her, too. From a childhood friendship, their relationship had progressed into a romantic attachment special to both of them. And at Christmas, Robert had asked her to marry him. Of course, it was their secret. Robert still had to finish his studies at nearby William and Mary College before entering medical practice with his guardian, Dr. Hugh Stedd.

  Robert! He would have to be told of these startling new circumstances which would affect their future. Even now he was probably waiting for her at their meeting place. He was free now during these days of spring holiday, and during his visit at the Barnwells last evening they had made plans for this afternoon.

  Thinking of last evening, Noramary shook her head in remembered amazement. Winnie had seemed her usual self, not betraying by a single telltale look or word or action her own secret plans. And Monsieur, dropping by so casually, all respect and circumspect behavior toward the Barnwells, whom he was to place in the most awkward position imaginable. What a wily pair they had been! Noramary wondered if her pretty cousin had acted upon whim or impulse. It seemed unlike Winnie to plot such an escapade while in the midst of fittings for her trousseau and the flurry
of pre-wedding festivities. The whole episode defied understanding.

  But now Noramary was to pay the piper for the tune Winnie had danced to!

  Slowly, hot tears rolled down Noramary’s cheeks. How was she ever to tell Robert? How could she explain her obligation to the Barnwells? How could she make him understand what she must do?

  Although the families were longtime friends, neither suspected that Robert and Noramary had discussed anything so serious as marriage. Noramary had purposely delayed saying anything to Aunt Betsy and Uncle William because it was an unwritten law of Williamsburg society that the eldest daughter must be wed before the younger daughters followed suit.

  Noramary’s own plans must be deferred until Winnie was happily settled, though she had never doubted that both families would give their blessing to the match. After Winnie’s wedding to Duncan Montrose, Noramary and Robert had planned to announce their engagement. Now everything had changed.

  Noramary could no longer restrain her tears as she thought of how much Robert meant to her and how painful it would be to give him up.

  Almost from the first they had been drawn to each other by the parallel circumstances of their lives. Noramary and Robert were both orphans and, so, set apart. Unlike Noramary, who was penniless and without family or fortune, Robert had an assured future. The only relative of the prosperous physician, he had been adopted by Dr. Stedd and made his sole heir. Besides this, at age twenty-one, he would inherit the combined legacies of wealth, land, and property of his own parents.

  Well aware of her own precarious position as a young woman without the dowry required to attract a suitable husband, Noramary was particularly grateful for Robert’s devotion. This fact also assured her of the Barnwells’ approval when the time came to declare their love and desire for marriage. But aside from all practical considerations, they had loved each other with a shining, incandescent affection that transcended the thought of dowries or property or inheritances.