Daring Bride Read online

  Although Garnet submitted to her niece’s hug, she in no way agreed with Cara’s explanation. If Cara wouldn’t listen, she would talk to Kip. After all, if he was any kind of man, he wouldn’t want his wife announcing their financial woes to the whole county. Surely he had proper pride in the name Montrose. Yes, Kip was the one to address in this matter.

  On the way over to Montclair, the ten-year-old Cameron twins were squabbling in the backseat of Jill’s rather ancient station wagon.

  “I can’t wait to see Luc and Niki!” Scotty declared, bouncing up and down impatiently.

  “You just saw Niki this morning at pony class,” jeered her brother, Stewart.

  “I don’t care. We have a secret and I want to talk to her about it. So there!” Scotty stuck out her tongue.

  “That’s enough, you two!” Jill said sharply. “I want you to be properly behaved tonight, understand? No fighting.”

  Glancing into her rearview mirror, Jill thought incongruously that they looked like two little angels, scrubbed and shiny, with russet-red curls, round faces sprinkled with golden freckles, beautiful amber-brown eyes. Stewart wore an Eton-collared white shirt and tie, Scotty a starched, smocked dress.

  Her children were special, even though both were inclined to be headstrong, self-willed, and needful of a firm hand—discipline that their easygoing father did not wield very often. She had to be the disciplinarian, Jill thought regretfully. Scott was either too distracted or concerned about the future of the Mayfield Messenger, the newspaper he owned and edited. In the face of the ongoing economic morass that had hit the county hard, times were tough, and the paper was barely meeting its payroll and its ink and paper bills.

  “We do have a secret,” Scotty continued in a loud whisper. “And we’re not going to tell you and Luc.”

  “Who cares about you girls’ silly ol’ secret?” Stewart retorted, folding his arms across his chest. “So there!”

  “Didn’t you two hear me?” Jill demanded in her sternest voice. “I’m not going to warn you again. Best behavior, or else.”

  The two in the back moved to opposite sides of the seat and subsided. Jill suppressed a smile. What a handful. How mischievous. But how darling. She loved them fiercely. She had been so happy to have twins, a boy and a girl! Scott had been thrilled to have a man child to carry on the proud Cameron name.

  As they turned into the Montclair gates, Jill was reminded—as she was every time—of the strange, special connection she had here. Her maiden name was Marsh, and when she left England and came to Virginia, she had discovered that she was a descendant of the first bride to live at Montclair, Noramary Marsh.

  It always struck Jill as an interesting turn of the wheel of life that she should follow her ancestress to Virginia, marry a Virginian, and live happily ever after! At least, she hoped Noramary had been as happy at Montclair as she herself was at Cameron Hall.

  “Shhh.” Niki put her forefinger up to her mouth as she and Scotty crept along the upper hall. From downstairs, where the older members of both families were gathered in the drawing room before dinner, they could hear the murmur of adult voices, the clink of glasses, and bursts of laughter.

  “I’m not making any noise!” protested her cousin. “It’s these old floors. They creak.”

  At the end of the hallway, they opened the door into what was the old nursery, and darted inside, closing the door quietly behind them. It was nearly dark, and only the last lingering light of evening filtered through the long, narrow windows. The room was wrapped in shadows, haunted by the ghosts of children who had once slept and played here. It was almost empty now—the toys that had earlier been the delight and amusement of those long-ago little ones had since been removed or had fallen to pieces. The rocking horse, its leather body now worn down to the wood structure underneath, its mane tangled and wispy, its glass eyes missing, stood alone and motionless in a dusty corner. A large (tollhouse, devoid of the handcrafted furniture that used to elegantly decorate its many now-empty rooms, remained abandoned, deserted by its doll-family residents.

  Niki and Scotty considered themselves too old now for dolls and were much more interested in exploring and other adventurous games. The secret room no one else seemed to know about, which they had found in the nursery, had been an enormous discovery They slid open the small door and crept into the hidden enclosure, excited at the prospect of perhaps coming upon an old trunk filled with gold or some other fabulous treasure.

  Niki was randomly shining the flashlight, pilfered from Luc’s Boy Scout belongings, around in the darkness, when its beam landed on a battered cardboard box, tied with rotting twine, pushed back under the eaves. Both girls drew long breaths.

  “What is it?” Scotty whispered.

  “I dunno, but let’s open it and find out.” Niki reached up and pulled down the box, then shined the circle of light on its top. They leaned closer and breathlessly read the inscription they saw there.

  Not to be opened until January 1, 1912.

  “1912!” They gasped simultaneously.

  “That was twenty years ago!” Scotty, who was good at math, said in an awed voice.

  “And nobody opened it.”

  “Wonder who put it here?”

  “And why they didn’t come back?”

  “Probably they’re dead!” whispered Scotty.

  Both children shivered.

  Then Niki asked, “Should we open it?”

  “Seeing that nobody’s come to claim it…I guess,” Scotty answered slowly.

  “Let’s see if I can get these knots untied,” Niki said and, began tugging at them. “I should have got Luc’s pocketknife, these are the very dickens!” she said, puffing from the effort.

  Just then they heard Cara’s voice, “Niki! What are you and Scotty doing up there? Aunt Garnet is opening her presents. Come on down right away.”

  Startled, Niki dropped the flashlight with a clatter. They had left the sliding door to the hidden room half-opened. Fearful that their snooping about would be discovered and they would be scolded—or worse, that everyone, even Luc and Stewart, would find out about their secret—both girls jumped to their feet.

  “We’d better go,” hissed Scotty.

  “I guess___” Niki was more reluctant to leave their exciting, unexpected treasure unopened.

  “Niki, do I have to come up there and get you?” Cara’s voice came again.

  Niki put down the box and slipped out of the enclosure and ran to the nursery door. “We’re coming, Tante. Just a minute,” she called.

  “Well, hurry up, honey. We’re all waiting.”

  Niki dashed back into the secret room. “We’ve gotta go. We’ll come back another time. Come on.”

  Scotty shoved the box back where they’d found it. Carefully they pushed the sliding door back in place, and then they left the nursery and ran down the stairway, their patent Mary Janes clattering on the uncarpeted steps.

  Cara was standing at the bottom of the stairs. “What on earth kept you?” she asked, frowning. “And what are all these cobwebs in your hair?” She brushed Niki’s curls.

  They didn’t have to answer, because at that moment Jill poked her head out of the drawing room door, saying, “Aunt Garnet’s getting impatient. Do come along.”

  Exchanging a guilty look, the two girls followed Cara back to where the rest of the family was waiting. Neither of them knew just how long it would be before they could safely return to the hidden room and examine the contents of the secret box.

  Tonight being such a special occasion, the children were allowed to sit at the table with the grown-ups. Tante had told Niki that in the “olden days,” when Montclair was famous for its hospitality and entertaining, it wasn’t unusual to have thirty people seated around this table.

  Nicole’s gaze traveled the length of the table and then back again, taking in everything and everyone. The table looked gorgeous. She had helped Tante set it with the best dishes, the crystal-prismed candleholders, the silver pea
cocks, whose sweeping tails flanked the centerpiece of flowers Aunt Jill had brought over from the gardens at Cameron Hall. Niki wished they had flower gardens at Montclair, but Tante said she didn’t have time to keep a garden. She was too busy with the horses. There were lots of wildflowers, of course, in the meadows and along the drive, and in the spring there were rhododendrons and acres of yellow daffodils.

  Among the grown-ups there was much laughter, talk, reminiscing. Tante looked pretty, being all dressed up for a change. She was usually careless about her appearance. She was more comfortable in jodhpurs and riding boots, her hair tied back with whatever happened to be at hand.

  Niki glanced at Aunt Kitty and felt a sharp ache in her heart. This morning she had found that Aunt Kitty had moved out to the cottage in the woods to stay. When Niki had asked Tante why, she had received a sharp reply. Of course, Niki knew why. It was because of their terrible quarrel. They were still barely speaking. Aunt Kitty hadn’t come up to the house until after Brynie and Gareth arrived.

  Niki leaned forward and looked up to the head of the table, where Aunt Garnet sat. In the flattering of candlelight, it was hard to believe she was as old as Tante said. She looked like a queen, Niki thought. Her diamond drop earrings sparkled like little crystal chandeliers, and the glow of the pink candles softened the lines in her face.

  The combined Montrose and Cameron families certainly made a crowd, Niki thought. Both families had lived side by side for generations, as far back as when Mayfield was first settled. They had been close friends and neighbors, related for years and years. Niki felt a small pang. It was something she often felt, a kind of longing that had no name, a deep-down wish to really belong.

  Just then Scott tapped on his glass with a fork and announced, “Attention, everybody.” Conversation stilled momentarily as Cara came in from the kitchen, carrying a cake alight with tiny twisted candles studding the tiered layers of white frosting.

  Instantly an expectant hush descended on the table, which had a moment before been a buzz of talk, laughter. Everyone seemed to realize the significance of this celebration. Garnet Cameron Montrose Devlin, born in the last century, represented the history of both families.

  As the cake was set in front of her, Garnet forced a smile and murmured, “My goodness! What a lot of candles!”

  “Happy Birthday!” came a chorus of voices.

  “Well, yes. Thank you,” she responded with a tightened throat. “You do realize, don’t you, that we’re celebrating a few months early?”

  “That’s because you’ll be back in England on your real birthday, Grandmother,” Scotty explained as if Garnet did not know.

  Garnet nodded. Bright child. Both the Cameron twins were. Her eyes rested on the two redheads fondly. Then she lifted her tulip-shaped wine glass and, summoning all her willpower, looked straight ahead, thinking, Happy Birthday, indeed!

  Her birthday! Could she really be ninety years old? Her gaze moved around the table, looking one by one at each face turned toward her. All of them were illuminated in the glow of candlelight, which shone also on their raised crystal glasses. Behind the chair of each one here, Garnet saw the others who had once gathered around this same table.

  For a moment, past and present merged. Then she chastised herself sternly. Only the old, the senile, the demented, saw ghosts…

  Attempting to control the suddenly rapid beating of her heart, the racing pulse in her wrists, Garnet concentrated on the beautifully arranged flower centerpiece. Ninety! It seemed unreal. She still sometimes felt like a young girl mistakenly placed in a body that occasionally betrayed her. She touched her silvery, marcelled hair, which she had stopped tinting years ago. There was no dye on earth that could capture her once glorious gold-bronze hair.

  While Cara cut the cake and Kitty handed out the pieces, Garnet glanced around herself with satisfaction. What a handsome group the members of this combined family were. Her sharp-eyed gaze traveled around the table. On one side there was Scott, with his aristocratic, British wife Jill. On the opposite side were Garnet’s three grandchildren—Lynette, with her husband, state senator Frank Maynard, and Gareth and Bryanne. At the other end was Kip Montrose. There Garnet’s gaze lingered. Kip was the son of Garnet’s cherished foster-son Jonathan. Oh, how many people filled her long life.

  Her reverie was interrupted as Scott stood and made a toast. “To Aunt Garnet—above all, a survivor.”

  Scott’s choice of words struck Garnet as being more true than he might realize. She had survived heartbreak, war, pain, despair. From somewhere had come the strength to go on. However, it wasn’t until a few years ago, after Faith’s death, after her long refusal to accept it, that Garnet had experienced an epiphany. It had been a meaningful, unforgettable experience. At last she had learned not to expect happiness nor to explain its loss. She had realized that we are put on this earth not merely for our own purposes but for reasons beyond our understanding, reasons we may never know—at least, not until eternity.

  The incident had lasted only a few minutes, yet its effect had lingered. Garnet could measure her own spiritual renewal from that day alone in Jeff’s studio at Avalon.

  Thinking of Avalon, Garnet turned her gaze to Gareth. How much he looked like his father, Jeff. Yet he had something of Faith in his expression as well. Her eyes, of course, and there was a sweetness about him in spite of his manly build and strong features. If he would only—but she was not going to regret that he hadn’t followed some profession. Gareth seemed to have found what few men find—contentment, his place.

  He was certainly not like Kip, who even at forty was still restless, unsettled. Garnet frowned. The beautiful silver, the china, the Battenberg lace tablecloth, the gleaming candelabra, didn’t fool her for a second, didn’t hide the general shabbiness of Montclair. What was he thinking of, to let the place run down so?

  And Bryanne. Garnet glanced at her. She was laughing gaily at something Kip was teasing her about. Her eyes sparkled and her color was high. Her hair looked like gleaming satin in the candlelight. She was really quite lovely. Why didn’t Lynette see that her younger sister got out and about more? Certainly she and Frank must know any number of eligible young men they could introduce her toGarnet decided she must ask Lynette about that.

  The younger children were having fun. It was easy to spot the French in Nicole, the little refugee orphan Cara had brought home after the war. Niki and Scotty were giggling irrepressibly. Niki’s flashing dark eyes and dark curls tumbled in ringlets about her merry, rosy face. Her hands, moving rapidly as she talked across the table to Stewart, were making typical Gallic gestures.

  Luc, Kip’s son by his first marriage, was a handsome boy, though quiet and rather thoughtful. However, now he seemed to be enjoying his adopted sister’s vivaciousness.

  The Maynard’s only child, Cara-Lyn, was watching the others with a rather pensive expression. Sadly, the little girl took after her father instead of her beautiful mother and her lovely grandmother, Faith. Garnet heard she was musical. That was a blessing. If developed, it could be an asset and make up for her lack of beauty.

  Garnet glanced around the table again with pride. She was glad she had come, glad she was spending this time with her family. And once she was finished with her business here, she would be equally glad to get home. To Birchfields, the lovely English manor where she and Jeremy and Faith had been so happy.

  For now, she would be very glad to get to her bedroom, take off her high-heeled shoes and her jewelry, take down her hair, and get into bed. Ninety, for heaven’s sake! She deserved a good night’s rest.

  chapter

  5

  THE MORNING AFTER Aunt Garnet’s party, Niki came back from her early-morning ride. She finished rubbing down her pony, led her into the paddock, slipped the feedbag of oats over the velvety nose, and with a final pat of her neck, left the barn and walked up to the house. When she walked into the kitchen for breakfast, she knew immediately something was dreadfully wrong. Instead of greeti
ng Niki in her usual cheery manner, Tante was standing at the stove, her back to the door, frying bacon. Aunt Kitty, dressed for traveling, was at the sink, looking out the window, sipping a cup of coffee.

  The tension was so thick that even Luc, who rarely noticed such things, was aware of it. He was seated at the table, silently spooning cereal. Niki took her place opposite him, poured milk from the pitcher onto her bowl of Rice Krispies, and ate. Then, as if they’d exchanged a secret signal, they both got up, grabbed their jackets, and gathered up their books. Although nothing had been said, they both understood what was happening.

  “Wait a minute, you two,” Aunt Kitty said, turning around. “No you don’t. Not without giving me big hugs.”

  “Do you have to go?” Niki asked plaintively.

  “Yes, sweetie, I do.” She squeezed Niki hard, then said in a husky voice, “You too, Luc. You’re not too old yet for your auntie to give you a kiss.” She laughed but it sounded shaky. “Wait, I’ll walk out with you, put my things in the car.”

  There were more hugs outside, and then Niki and Luc went down the driveway. Neither spoke until they were out of their aunt’s hearing.

  “I never saw Aunt Kitty so sad,” Niki said.

  “Aunt Cara too,” Luc commented gruffly.

  That seemed to say it all. In the distance they saw the yellow school bus round the bend in the road, and they both began to run.

  On the long drive back to New York, Kitty went over and over the quarrel she’d had with Cara. She winced, remembering the hurt in her twin’s expression when Kitty told her she was moving out to Eden Cottage. Could she have handled it any differently? Probably. But Kitty’s feelings were too strong, too near the surface. Listening to Kip and his friends speak so casually of what amounted to preparation for war had brought all those feelings out.