Hero's Bride Page 16

Scott met her at the entrance of the smart Georgetown restaurant where he had made reservations for them. It was unadvertised but well-known and patronized by an elite clientele. A dignified headwaiter showed them to a table for two in the corner.

  Everything was muted—the soft colors, the carpeted floor, the pearl-gray walls, even the lowered voices of the other luncheon guests. Kitty felt almost as if she should whisper.

  "How was Richard?" Scott asked after he had ordered for them and handed back the oversized menus to their waiter.

  "Better, I think. His spirits are good." Kitty tried to sound optimistic.

  Scott leaned forward, looking at his sister earnestly. "This marriage is ill-advised, Kitty. You'll be marrying an invalid, you know, a desperately sick man who will never be able to give you what you've always wanted—a home, real love, children—"

  "Scott, please. My mind is made up. It's what I want to do. I love Richard and he loves me . . . he needs me—"

  "That's just it. Isn't it his condition that is motivating you to sacrifice yourself? Don't let sympathy or pity drive you to do something you may both regret."

  "I'm not sacrificing myself. It's not as though either of us is being forced to do anything. We knew each other, fell in love before Richard was wounded, remember? That hasn't changed."

  "But so much has changed. I f you can't see that, you'rebeing deliberately blind."

  "You're wrong, Scott. Richard and I have so much in common. We understand each other."

  Scott was silent for a minute as if considering something he wanted to say. "Kitty, let's be honest. You fell in love with Richard . . . or thought you did . . . after Kip—" Scott hesitated. "You know Kip is free again, don't you? That has to make a difference. Don't let some mistaken sense o f honor or loyalty bind you to Richard now. Surely he, as any man in his situation would understand, would want you to—"

  Kitty's heart wrenched at her brother's words. Just then the waiter came with their soup, and neither of them spoke while it was placed before them.

  When the waiter left, Kitty leaned forward, speaking in a low voice. "It doesn't matter, Scott. I'm going to marry Richard. Please let's not discuss it any more." She picked up her spoon. "Umm, this smells delicious."

  But Scott made one more try. "What about Cara? What does she think of this?"

  "Cara understands." Kitty smiled, thinking her twin was the only one who did. "Now are we finished talking about this?"

  "I tried to talk her out of going overseas again." Scott shook his head, lifted an eyebrow. "But she didn't listen to me any more than you have."

  "Dear Scott. You mean well, and we do appreciate all your brotherly concern for us, but we're grown women now, you know. You have to let us go, make our own mistakes if that's what we're doing. I really and truly believe that both of us have made the right choices."

  "I hope so," Scott said doubtfiilly, unwilling to concede that his little sisters were adults now.

  At the train station he thrust a box of chocolate-covered mints and a newspaper at her before seeing her to her seat.

  "You will be at the wedding, won't you?" Kitty asked as Scott kissed her cheek.

  He gave her a long look. "Of course. It wouldn't be official if I weren't."

  Settled in her compartment as the train slid smoothly along the tracks from the station, out past the city toward Virginia, Kitty recalled their conversation at lunch. She knew her brother's love and concern for her had prompted his words, wise and logical as they were. And he was partly right. Whenever she had dreamed of marriage, she had always thought of passionate love—what she had once felt for Kip Montrose. To be honest, she had never imagined caring for a disabled husband, one permanently crippled and confined to a wheelchair.

  Yet Kitty knew she did love Richard. Maybe not the head-over-heels passion of her youth but with a deep caring and commitment. After all, she and Richard had been through a war together, had been tempered by loss, strengthened by surviving the unbearable. Their bond was deeper than perhaps anyone else could understand.

  In that dark time after Kip's letter telling her he was going to marry Etienette, Richard had given her back a part of herself she thought was lost. When she had needed someone badly, he had been there. By loving her, he had restored her shattered confidence, given her something to live for. Scott simply did not know how much she owed Richard. But Kitty knew, and she was willing to pay that debt, if it took the rest of her life.

  She stared out the train window. The landscape was growing more familiar as the miles rolled by. Richard loved her, needed her, and they were going to start a new life together, supporting each other, strengthening each other, giving to each other.

  No doubt some lingering hurt might haunt her when she returned to Eden Cottage, but she was determined not to let memories of what might have been with Kip spoil the life she would share with Richard. It was going to be a good life, a good marriage.

  After her broken engagement, Kitty had thought of Eden Cottage as described in a line from a poem by Tennyson:

  Make me a cottage in the vale,

  Where I may mourn and pray.

  That quotation no longer applied. It will not be a place of mourning, she resolved to herself. We'll be happy there. We will!

  Several days after her arrival at Cameron Hall, Kitty packed up the boxes o f household goods and other belongings she was taking over to Eden Cottage. As she came downstairs from the bedroom she had shared with Cara, carrying a large cardboard carton, her mother was standing in the lower hall.

  "Is that the last?" Blythe asked.

  "Except for a few odds and ends of mine," Kitty replied, setting the box down beside several others near the front door.

  "You've been working awfully hard, darling. Is it almost finished?"

  "Oh, there are a few last-minute touches, of course. For one thing, I want to fill the house with flowers before Richard arrives. But I'll do that tomorrow."

  Blythe gave her daughter a long, thoughtful look. "I hope you're doing the right thing, dear."

  "Now, Mama, don't you start in on me." Kitty came over and put her arms around her mother. "Believe me, this is the right thing. You'll see."

  "All I want is your happiness."

  "I know, Mama, I love Richard, and we're going to be very happy," she assured her mother, and gave her another hug. "Now, I've got to go. I have lots to do. I'll just carry these out to the car and be on my way."

  Upon her return to Virginia, Kitty had acquired a small station wagon. The dealer had made necessary adjustments to accommodate a wheelchair in the back. Now she filled the empty space with her boxes, got into the driver's seat, and drove down the curving drive to the gates.

  After Kip and Kitty's engagement, when Eden Cottage was being renovated for their occupancy, their fathers had commissioned the construction of a road beginning where the Montrose and Cameron property lines converged. This had made the little house accessible from the county road.

  As Kitty made the turn into the narrow lane leading to Eden Cottage, she caught sight of Montclair, viewing it through the foliage now tinged with the first colors of autumn. The Montrose home, like Cameron Hall, had been built in the early eighteenth century but retained an imperishable beauty. These two were among the few houses in the area still occupied by the same family who had built them, in spite of so many changes in the world.

  Kitty slowed the car to gaze at it, thinking how many memories both great houses must hold—all the arrivals and farewells, the births and deaths, the christenings and funerals, the trials and triumphs o f each generation. Yet both remained as a symbol of the strength of family love and loyalty and endurance.

  It was thrilling to be a part of it. Kitty couldn't wait to introduce Richard to all that was hers, the heritage she might have failed to appreciate fully before the war.

  She parked the station wagon at the side of the house where the sloping ramp had recently been built to accommodate Richard's wheelchair. She got out and stood for a
moment, breathing in the familiar, indescribable smells o f the woodland—the tree bark, pine needles, the spicy scent of marigolds and shaggy chrysanthemums along the low stone wall.

  It was a glorious day. A golden haze gilded the maple leaves and fired the dogwoods with touches of scarlet. The grapevines on the arbor were glistening clusters of ripe color—gold, purple, emerald.

  Stepping up on the porch, Kitty took out her key, inserted it into the brass latch, and opened the door. It squeaked a little, and Kitty smiled. She had meant to bring some oil to ease the ancient hinges, but it had slipped her mind. Oh, well, next time. She was about to enter the house when someone called her name.

  "Kitty?"

  For a moment, she could not move. She knew that voice, and her heart began to hammer wildly. Very slowly she turned around.

  Standing only a few yards away was Kip. He was in his riding clothes—worn tweed jacket, beige jodphurs, leather boots. The sun slanted through the trees and enveloped his tall figure in an aura of unreality.

  Kitty put one hand on the door frame to steady herself, for she was trembling. "Hello, Kip."

  He came forward, stood at the foot of the porch steps.

  "Kitty! It's really you! I wasn't sure. I saw Cara near here the other day, and I thought at first it might be—"

  "No, she's gone."

  "When did you come?"

  "Last week.' Kitty was surprised that her voice sounded so normal.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Didn't you know? I'm going to live here. That is, Richard and I are." She paused, seeing his brows furrow in a puzzled frown. "You did know I was being married . . . to Richard Traherne, didn't you?"

  He shook his head. "No, I mean, yes. I didn't realize-—" He halted. "Father and Fiona are away, in Bermuda. I just got home myself. I haven't actually seen anyone, talked to anyone—" He paused again. "When is the wedding?"

  "Saturday."

  "That soon?"

  She nodded.

  "And you're going to live here? At Eden Cottage?"

  's hand gripped the porch railing tighdy. What did she hear in it? Shock? Disbelief? Regret?

  "You do remember deeding the house to me, don't you, Kip?" she reminded him gently.

  He shook his head as if to clear it."Thatwas before the war . . . so much has happened—" His voice broke. He bent his head, drew a circle with the toe of one boot in the gravel path.

  Kitty knew he was remembering more than that.

  A silence fell. It was suddenly so quiet that the buzzing of bees among the flowers along the side of the porch droned loudly. Kitty stiffened.

  Finally Kip raised his head and looked at her. "Let's take a walk. I think we should talk."

  Kitty hesitated. Was it wise? What would they talk about—the past, old times, what might have been? Recalling them could only bring back the bittersweet memories, the anguish of their break-up, but would not change anything. She remained where she was until Kip held out a hand to her. remained where she was until "Please, Kitty?"

  She had never been able to refuse Kip anything. The pleading in his eyes drew her now, against her better judgment.

  She ignored his hand, thrust both hers into the pockets of her sweater, and stepped down from the porch. They started down the walk along the pine-needled path leading down to the brook that eventually ran to the river,

  "You know Etienette is dead." Kip spoke quietly, matter-of-factly.

  "Yes. I'm sorry."

  "I have a son. Her parents are keeping him until he's old enough for me to bring him home to Virginia. His name is Lucien."

  Kitty said nothing. What was there to say in the face of the tragedy Kip had suffered?

  "A lot of people died . . . young people, like Etienette . . . most o f my friends in the Escadrille. I never told you, but the average life of a flyer was three weeks." When Kip spoke again, his tone was charged with irony. "We were lucky, Kitty, you and I. At least, I guess we were."

  They walked on a little farther.

  "When Etienette died, I didn't want to go on living. Then an old priest, the parish priest in the little village where she lived, the same one who married us, actually, said something I've tried to hold onto. He said that the Lord had left me here for some purpose. Most people never know why they're in this world. But he told me that since I have a son, maybe my purpose is to teach him that war is madness, that I should bring him up to be the kind of man who'll help the world learn that lesson."

  Kip stopped abruptly and turned to face Kitty. "I could see what he meant. That's what I plan to do. Why I wanted to come back here, to Virginia, to Montclair, to my roots. I mean to bring Luc up with the values and traditions our families have held onto all these years." He paused, studying her face intently. "I'd hoped to have some help doing that, Kitty."

  He let the words hang between them, but their meaning was unmistakable. And when she looked into his eyes, she saw in them what she had always longed to see there—love, longing, need. Suddenly Kitty was aware of the danger they were in, and she was frightened.

  What did she really want from Kip? Did she want him to say he was sorry, that marrying Etienette had been a mistake, that he wanted to pick up with Kitty where they had left off, just as if nothing had happened in all the years in between?

  It was tempting to read into all of this what she might have wanted months ago. But if she allowed Kip to say what she sensed he was on the brink of saying and she listened— She halted suddenly, saying, "We'd better turn back."

  "Wait, Kitty." Kip caught her arm, 'There's something I have to say."

  "Maybe it would be better not to say it, Kip."

  "But I should have said it before," Kip insisted. "I wasn't too sensitive, was I? I've always been impulsive, thoughtless—I didn't realize at the time—howmuch—""

  "It's all right, Kip. I suppose we've both learned a lot, to appreciate happiness now more than we did before the war.

  "That's not all I wanted to say, Kitty—"

  Kitty knew that they were on dangerous ground and she interrupted him.

  "It was a long time ago, Kip, no need ___

  "I am sorry, Kitty. Truly sorry."

  Did Kip just mean sorry that he had hurt her or did he mean more than that? I f she looked into Kip's eyes, what would she really see? Simply loss and loneliness or really love? Kitty dared not look. Instead she turned away, saying softly, "I must go, it's late, Kip."

  "You mean that it's too late, don't you, Kitty?" she heard him say as she started down the path leading back to Eden Cottage.

  He fell in step with her, and they walked the rest o f the way in silence.

  At the small herb garden, a miniature of the one at Montclair planted by the first Montrose bride, Noramary, Kitty bent and plucked a sprig of rosemary, held it for a moment, then handed it to Kip. "Rosemary for remembrance. Let's just remember the happy times."

  They were standing close together, and he put his hand on her shoulder, letting it rest there for a moment, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly.

  "I hope you'll be happy, Kitty. You deserve it."

  Watching him walk slowly away, Kitty knew in her heart that she needed only to call his name to recapture her once-cherished dream. Then she glanced at the little house. It had a waiting look.

  With an awful certainty Kitty realized that a step in either direction would change her life irrevocably. Was there a choice? Had life really handed her a second chance? The longing o f the moment seemed irresistible. Or would there be an eternity o f regret? The wind rustled the boughs in the tall pines overhead, making a sighing sound. Kitty shivered slightly, then she stepped out of the shadows and into the sunshine.

  Cast of Characters for Hero's Bride

  Mayfield, Virginia

  Kip Montrose

  Kitty Cameron

  Cara (Kitty's twin)

  BJythe and Rod Cameron (the twins' parents)

  Lynette Montrose (the twins' grandparents)

  In En
gland

  Lydia Ainsley (an old family friend)

  Garnet Cameron Devlin (Kitty's aunt)

  Bryanne Montrose (Garnet's granddaughter, Kitty's cousin)

  Richard Trahern (a Canadian officer)

  Scott Cameron (Kitty's brother)

  The Brides of Montclair Series

  . . . is a sweeping saga of a single American family, from before the Revolutionary War to the twentieth century. The twelve volumes are:

  1. Valiant Bride

  "If you enjoy reading romances, you'll enjoy reading Valiant Bride"—Jane Mouttet, book reviewer, KHAC radio

  2. Ransomed Bride

  "Earns a rousing A + "—The Bookshelf WBRG

  3. Fortune's Bride

  "Excellent. . . another triumph for Jane Peart!"—Christian Readers Review

  4. Folly's Bride

  This is the stunning "prequel to Jane Peart's Civil War epic, Yankee Bride/Rebel Bride.

  5. Yankee Bride/Rebel Bride: Montclair Divided

  This novel is a newly revised expansion of the book that won the 1985 Romantic Times Award for Best Historical Fiction.

  6. Gallant Bride

  "Such a splendid book!"—a reader in Ontario, Canada

  7. Shadow Bride

  A continuation of the story of Blythe Dormán (many readers' favorite Jane Peart heroine) and her struggle to find lasting happiness.

  8. Destiny's Bride

  Druscilla Montrosefindslove unexpectedly among the sun-drenched hills of nineteenth-century Italy.

  9. Jubilee Bride

  A Cameron and Montrose family reunion amid all the joy and romance of Victorian England.

  10. Mirror Bride

  Twins—alike yet not alike—search for their hearts' desires.

  11. Hero's Bride

  A novel of epic faith and endurance during World War I.

  12. Senator's Bride

  Love, politics, and abiding faith in the restless era "between-the-wars." (Due spring 1994.)

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jane Peart, award-winning novelist and short story writer, grew up in Asheville, North Carolina, and was educated in New England. Although she now lives in northern California, her heart has remained in her native South—its people, its history, and its traditions. With more than twenty-five novels and 250 short stories to her credit, Jane likes to emphasize in her writing the timeless and recurring themes of family, traditional values, and a sense of place.