Fortune's Bride Read online

  “And I happen to know that May always keeps her promises,” purred Mrs. Fontayne. “May’s parties were always the most delightful of any I attended in the old days. We lack only your presence to make the evening complete.” Awaiting Graham’s answer, she cocked her head in a way that irritated Avril.

  “Graham, it would take a cold heart indeed to resist Clarice’s charm,” prodded May.

  Again Mrs. Fontayne smiled, displaying dimples on either side of her round, rosy mouth. This time she rapped Graham’s knuckles with her closed fan. “I simply will not take no for an answer. Do come!”

  Graham threw up both hands in a gesture of helplessness. “All right! Very well, I surrender!”

  With a swift dart of indignation, Avril realized that Graham was completely beguiled by Clarice Fontayne, or he would never have forgotten his promise of another lesson in chess this evening. When the ladies rose to leave, he accompanied them to the door without a backward glance at his bewildered ward.

  Avril drew in her breath when she saw Mrs. Fontayne place her slender hand on Graham’s arm and lean toward him. “Adieu, then, for a little while.”

  Looking on at the little scene, Avril felt an irrational anger toward the lovely intruder and toward Auntie May for bringing her to Montclair. When they said good-bye, Auntie May kissed Avril affectionately but Mrs. Fontayne held out her hand daintily, her fingertips barely touching Avril’s, her eyes still seeking Graham. Nor did Graham seem to notice that Avril was standing there, forlorn and forgotten, as he extended his arm to escort the enchanting creature to her carriage.

  Watching the carriage wind down the drive, Avril’s hands balled into tight fists. She was feeling something she was to battle the rest of her life where Graham was concerned. Though too young to recognize it for what it was, she knew only that she felt somehow threatened and vaguely realized her feeling was connected with Clarice Fontayne’s advent into their lives.

  chapter

  3

  AN EAR SHATTERING clap of thunder catapulted Avril out of a dreamless sleep. She sat bolt upright in bed as scissors of lightning slashed through the darkness lighting her whole bedroom. Clutching the sheet, she cowered as the crackling echo split the quiet summer night.

  Trembling with fear, Avril was too frightened to call out. Then she realized she was alone anyway, since Dilly no longer slept in the trundle at the foot of her canopy bed.

  For a moment she was immobilized, knowing more was likely to come, yet afraid to budge. When another crash reverberated through the house, she jumped out of bed and ran barefoot along the uncarpeted floor to the door. Flinging it open, she ran out into the hall looking for Graham, stumbling on the hem of her nightdress in her haste. Shivering, she reached the head of the stairs and saw that the glass-globed candles on the hall table were still burning. That meant he had not yet returned from the party at Cameron Hall.

  A kind of helpless anger swept over Avril, momentarily quelling her fear. Another party! There had been so many parties this summer—at Cameron Hall and in Williamsburg as well, where Mrs. Fontayne had taken a house. Evening after evening Graham had changed his plans at the last minute to accept yet another social invitation, she thought with resentment, plopping down on the floor and gathering her gown around her knees.

  She huddled on the top step—small, square chin on fists, elbows on nightgowned knees, bracing herself for the next roll of thunder. She wasn’t going back to her room until this scary storm was over. Maybe Graham would be home soon—

  Avril’s face twisted fiercely at the thought of Mrs. Fontayne. Ever since Auntie May had brought her to Montclair, things had changed. There were fewer and fewer uninterrupted times with Graham. The long twilight walks, the evenings reading or playing chess had become rare occasions.

  And it was all that woman’s fault! Avril fumed. Clarice Fontayne, so dainty and beautiful, with her slender, graceful figure, her flirtatious manner! Being in the same room with her made Avril feel skinny, awkward, insecure. And the way Graham looked at her and laughed at every silly word … It was just too much to endure.

  Another peal of thunder roared and Avril shuddered. She wished Graham were home so she could steal down the stairs, curl up with him in the big wing chair by the library fire, and feel his strong arms around her, fending off all her fears and doubts. All at once Avril felt very lonely and abandoned. A salty tear trickled down each cheek and she leaned her head against one of the banister posts.

  Yet another rumble of distant thunder, this time farther away and not as frightening, but now she could hear the rattle of rain as it descended in torrents.

  She would wait here until Graham returned, Avril decided. Make him sorry he had left her alone in this terrible storm. She shifted on the cold, hard steps, trying to find a more comfortable position. Gradually, as time passed, her eyes grew heavy. She nodded, yawning, and heard the grandfather clock in the downstairs hall striking the hour. As she counted the bongs, she drifted off….

  When Graham entered the house sometime later, a sudden gust of wind ripped the door from his hand and banged it sharply against the wall, waking Avril from her slumber. She was about to call his name when something stopped her.

  She watched as Graham unfastened his cape and threw it across a chair. He stood there for a moment, his broad shoulders drooping under the elegant waistcoat. Avril knew instinctively that something was troubling him and longed to comfort him as he had so often comforted her, but she could not move.

  From her perch, she watched him cross to the library and go inside. He did not bother to close the doors, so she had a clear view of the fireplace. Hector had left a small fire burning in the grate, and Graham crossed the room to stand before it, staring into the embers.

  Graham felt his loneliness well up within. No amount of lively companionship or festive partying had yet eased that deep, unhealed wound. Tonight, riding back home to Montclair through the driving rain, thoughts of Lulie had flooded his mind.

  Luella—his lovely, lost bride—though he always thought of her as Lulie. So young, the childish nickname had clung to her into glowing womanhood.

  Remembering the first time he had seen her, a thousand memories moved across the screen of his mind—images of the impulsive young man who had loved riding, dancing, and pretty women. He had met Lulie while visiting a classmate in Charleston. She was a fragile beauty with enormous brown eyes and hair as black and silky as a raven’s wing. Her demure charm was irresistible, and he had boldly scratched out every name but his from her dance card and spent the entire evening with her, entranced.

  On the veranda of her parents’ home, they had sipped punch and he had declared his intentions. “You may not believe it, but I am going to marry you,” he had burst out, to her shocked surprise.

  His courtship had been persistent, ardent. Her parents had finally given their consent and they had been married. Three months later she was dead, taken from him by a savage fever. And Graham had been left a widower at twenty.

  For years he had mourned her. Three months did not make a marriage, nor warrant a lifetime of grief, his friends all said. He was urged to get on with his life, leave the past behind him—all the trite, easy phrases spoken by those who could not possibly understand what he had lost. They could not know that he was mourning the loss of something he had never fully possessed—a deepening relationship, growing devotion, a home, a family, loving companionship. All these had been stripped from him before they had ever been his.

  He had brooded, drifting dangerously into melancholia. Gradually he had pulled himself through the worst of his depression. But it was not until the deaths of his friends, Paul and Eva Dumont, that he had been jolted from his self-imposed exile. Graham’s new life had begun, he mused, when he had brought Avril to Montclair.

  It was she who had brought the welcome diversion to his life that friends and family had failed to provide. This child who needed him so badly had in turn given him something to live for.

  Graham�
�s brow furrowed over his high-bridged aristocratic nose as he thought of the conversation he had had this evening with May Cameron and Clarice Fontayne.

  His guardianship of his friend’s daughter was well-known in the community and now, he was sure, had been widely discussed. Perhaps he himself should have foreseen some of the problems when he had first brought her here. Why had they not been obvious at the beginning, he wondered, and why had not the same people who warned him now, advised him then?

  The question now was whether he should act upon this recent advice. He knew his reluctance to send her away to school was selfish. Avril was a delightful child, open, eager to learn, spontaneous in her affection, quick to laugh, easy to please. With her, he had recaptured some of his youthful zest, his enjoyment of simple games. There were fewer and fewer moments when he felt useless, with no purpose, no goals.

  Graham sighed. He knew there was much truth in what both May Cameron and Clarice Fontayne had said when the subject of Avril had come up during dinner tonight.

  “She is growing up with no contacts with girls of her own age. You may be educating her mind with books you select, Graham,” May had said, “but what about her spiritual training, the manners and social graces she should acquire before she can take her future position in society? What about matrimonial prospects? As her guardian you should be thinking of Avril’s future.”

  “It is never too soon to prepare a girl for the place she will occupy in later life,” nodded Clarice in agreement. “If Avril is the heiress May assures me she is, she must learn how to spot fortune hunters or others who would use her for their own gain. Only exposure to people from many different backgrounds in a variety of situations will give her that savoir-faire to be discriminating. I know that my days at boarding school were not only my happiest but also gave me my most valued and lasting friendships.”

  “But where would I send her?” Graham asked.

  “Oh, there are any number of fine female academies,” May said quickly. ‘There is Faith Academy in North Carolina, for instance, of which I have heard nothing but fine reports. Would you like me to get the necessary information for you to enroll Avril this fall?”

  Graham had agreed gratefully. Now he was having second thoughts. On one hand, he knew May and Clarice were right. He was unhappily aware that he could not provide the instruction in deportment and etiquette that young ladies were supposed to have. Avril needed the atmosphere of a good boarding school. But even as he determined to abide by this decision, his real desire was to keep Avril here at Montclair. Already he knew that he would miss her greatly, that she had filled a terrible void in his life, that he had come to love her dearly. He felt a mixture of emotions: remorse over his lack of responsibility for her welfare, guilt because he selfishly wanted her near him.

  But he knew what he must do—and without further delay. Unconsciously Graham straightened his shoulders.

  As soon as May found out about this school in North Carolina, they would tell Avril. In the meantime—well, let the child enjoy her carefree existence at Montclair.

  The driving rain slashed at the windows, and the sound of the wind was a long, keening wail around the eaves of the house.

  Taking a taper from the box on the mantelpiece, Graham leaned down and relighted the dying fire. He put the candle into a brass holder, then left the library and walked down the hall toward the master bedroom he had occupied alone for the last eight years, unaware that his movements were being observed by the small shadowy figure crouched at the top of the stairs.

  chapter

  4

  ALMOST FROM THE MINUTE she opened her eyes, Avril felt there was something different about this day. In the first place it was raining, a gentle, pattering sound rustling the leaves on the tree outside her open window, softening the morning light to a misty gray.

  Next she had a kind of quivering in the pit of her stomach—half anticipation, half apprehension, as if something were about to happen.

  Then the bedroom door opened quietly and Avril heard Dilly’s felt-slippered feet on the polished floor as she came in and closed it behind her. Through slitted eyelids Avril saw her move to the armoire and take from it the white lawn dress embroidered with tiny sprigs of lilac that had been made by a Williamsburg seamstress for Avril at Mrs. Cameron’s direction and declared by her to be “very apropos” for a child’s half-mourning attire.

  But why was Dilly laying out her best dress today? Avril wondered, her eyes now popping open in surprise as she watched Dilly take out starched petticoats from one of the bureau drawers, ruffled pantaloons and fresh white cotton stockings.

  She sat up in bed and Dilly, alerted that her charge was now wide awake, turned around. “Time you wuz up, missy. Mr. Graham ‘spectin’ some genmun along wid de Jedge and Missus Cameron dis mawnin’. He He tole me to hab you dressed and down in de parlor ‘fo ten.”

  “But why? I was going riding. Logan and Marshall were going to meet me by the river and we were—”

  “Doan know nuthin’ ‘bout dat. All I knows is what Mr. Graham tole me to do. Now, git on up. I axed Lonnie to bring up hot water for yo’ bath and we’s got to hurry.”

  Avril’s lower lip thrust itself out in a pout. She hated to have her plans changed without warning. She had quickly become friends with the Cameron boys. Today they had agreed to meet at the river, build a raft, and play “shipwrecked pirates.”

  Marshall had accepted her more readily than Logan, who was older by a year and sometimes considered himself too old to play with a girl or to take part in the imaginative games Marshall was always suggesting. More often than not, he condescended to join them, as long as he was permitted to be the captain or king or whatever leader the game required. And because it was so much more fun to have him, the younger two usually allowed him to have his way.

  Now her day was spoiled, Avril fretted.

  “Why do I have to get all dressed up for company?” she pouted.

  “Now, none of dat mule-headed actin’,” Dilly ordered as she helped Avril out of her nightie. “How many times do Mr. Graham ever ax you to do somethin’? Think you could be sweet and pleasant when he do!” She sniffed indignantly.

  Immediately Avril was conscience-stricken. Dilly was right. It must be important or Graham would never have requested her presence. He was kindness itself, and Avril adored him. More and more every day she lived at Montclair, she realized how lucky she was to have him as her guardian.

  Subdued, Avril sat while Dilly applied the brush to her unruly mane, only grimacing once in awhile when the brush hit a snag of stubborn curls. Finally, smoothly brushed and bowed, and neatly buttoned into the becoming, high-waisted gown, Avril straightened her shoulders, awaiting Dilly’s approval.

  “Um-hum,” it came as Dilly, head to one side, turned her around slowly, then gave a last adjustment to the lavender satin sash. “Yes’m, think you’ll do jes’ fine.”

  Coming down the steps, Avril had a clear view of a portion of the parlor. Besides the familiar figure of Auntie May Cameron, and her husband, two other gentlemen were seated on the damask-striped sofa opposite them. Graham was standing in front of the fireplace, where he could see her approach. He nodded as she drew near, then came to the doorway to usher her inside the room.

  “Come, Avril, we’ve been waiting for you.”

  That funny little shiver passed over her again as she entered the room, aware of the eyes of all the adults upon her. Something very strange was going on, Avril was sure, and it had something to do with her.

  Auntie May, looking beautiful in pink taffeta and a matching bonnet with plumes, its puckered lining framing her oval face with a delicate rosy tint, rose to greet Avril and cupped her cheek with her cool hand.

  “Here, darling, sit beside me,” she said as she arranged herself again on the sofa and patted the pillowed seat.

  Gravely Graham introduced her. “Gentlemen, my ward, Avril Dumont.”

  The two men, who had risen at Avril’s entrance, bowed in t
urn as Graham said, “Mr. Emory Fisher and Mr. Horton Daniels.”

  Avril nodded, acknowledging the introductions, then clasped her small hands together tightly on her lap, fastening her eyes on Graham as he continued speaking.

  “Mr. Fisher and Mr. Daniels are lawyers, Avril. Lawyers are well versed in legal matters and are able to advise people on all matters pertaining to the law—what to do and what not to do under different circumstances. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Avril nodded again, still mystified by what all this was leading up to, and kept her gaze fixed upon Graham.

  “As you also know, my dear, your father designated me as your guardian and entrusted me with your care if anything should happen to him and your mother. Of course, neither of us ever thought—” Graham paused. ‘They were both young and healthy, and he could not foresee anything other than living to see you grown, married, safe, and protected—” Here Graham paused as if emotion made it difficult for him to go on. There was an uneasy stir among the occupants of the room. At last Graham was able to finish. “So, because your father, being human as we all are, could not look into the future and imagine the untimely death he was to suffer, he made no provision for you. That is to say, your parents left no will, no written document to ensure that you, as their only child and heir, would inherit their combined goods and property—house, land, personal belongings, bank accounts. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Avril?” Graham asked.

  Listening attentively, Avril came to the conclusion that her plight was not unlike those of heroines in some of the stories she had read.

  “You mean that I am a penniless orphan?”

  There was a ripple of suppressed laughter.

  Graham smiled at Avril’s question but replied with great seriousness. “No, my dear. Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. You are potentially an heiress to a sizable fortune. However, we have a problem that must be resolved in order to guarantee that you will be the beneficiary of all that your parents would have left you had they been able to make provision for that before their untimely deaths. As it is, there is a danger of your losing everything unless—”