Love Just In Time

By

Flora Speer

From The Cov er:

A MODERN-DAY REBEL

After discovering her husband's
infidelity, Clarissa Cummings thought she would
never trust another man. Then a freak accident
sent her into another century — and the most
handsome stranger imaginable saved her from
drowning in the Chesapeake and Delaware
Canal. But he was all wet if he thought he
had a lock on Clarissa's heart.

AN OLD-FASHIONED ROGUE

After scandal forced Jack Martin to flee to the
wilds of America, the dashing young Englishman
had to give up the pleasures of a rake and earn
his keep with a plow and hoe. Yet to his surprise,
he learned to enjoy the simple life of a farmer,
and he yearned to take Clarissa as his bride. But
after Jack had sown the Seeds of desire, secrets
from his past threatened to destroy his
harvest of love.

Other Leis ure and Lov e Spell Books by Flora Speer: CHRISTMAS CAROL A LOVE BEYOND
TIME NO OTHER LOVE A TIME TO LOVE AGAIN VIKING PASSION DESTINY' S LOVERS MUCH
ADO ABOUT LOVE VENUS RISING BY HONOR BOUND LOVE SPELL NEW YORK CITY

For my aunt, Sy lv ia Tuft, and for my brothers ,
Dav id and Ralph De Groodt, with thanks for y our help with the res earch for this book.
LOVE SPELL® February 1995 Publis hed by
Dorches ter Publis hing Co., Inc. 276 Fifth Av enue New York, NY 10001
If y ou purchas ed this book without a cov er y ou s hould be aware that this book is s tolen property .
It was reported as "uns old and des troy ed" to the publis her and neither the author nor the
publis her has receiv ed any pay ment for this "s tripped book." Copy right © 1995 by Flora Speer
All rights res erv ed. No part of this book may be reproduced or trans mitted in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means , including photocopy ing, recording or by any information s torage
and retriev al s y s tem, without the written permis s ion of the Publis her, ex cept where permitted by
law. The name "Lov e Spell" and its logo are trademarks of Dorches ter Publis hing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.

Prologue
Hunts ley Hall, Kent, England Spring, 1823
"Hah! Here y ou are at las t." The Marques s of Hunts ley looked up from the papers s pread out on
the huge library des k to fix a cold glare upon his s econd s on. "I am gratified to s ee y ou hav e
finally managed to remov e y ours elf from y our mis tres s and y our gaming."
"I left London as s oon as I receiv ed y our mes s age, s ir, and rode here as fas t as I could without
killing my hors e." Jus tin Nev ille Benedict Marty ns on adv anced into the room as far as the chair
that had been placed in front of the marques s ' s des k. There Jus tin s topped, one hand res ting on
the carv ed back of the chair. He tried not to grip the wood s o tightly that the marques s would
notice and comment, but he wanted a barrier, howev er flims y , between hims elf and the father who
des pis ed him for a was trel. "I as s ume

the matter mus t be of s ome great moment, or y ou would not hav e s ummoned me. The las t time
we met, y ou s aid mos t clearly that y ou hoped nev er to s ee me again."
"Look at y ou," the marques s s puttered. "Dres s ed in the height of fas hion while the res t of y our
family is hard pres s ed to keep food on the table and this old hous e intact. How much did y our
tailor charge y ou for that coat, y ou y oung fool? I' ll wager y ou can barely mov e in it. And as for
y our crav at--"
"I am fortunate to hav e an ex cellent v alet in Gilbert," Jus tin remarked quietly . "He ties my crav ats
for me."
"D' y ou bathe ev ery day ? I' v e nev er s een a man s o clean or linen s o white." The marques s ' s own
clothing was wrinkled and s potted, and the library in which he s at was in chaotic dis array and
obv ious ly had not been dus ted for weeks .
"I am of a tidy dis pos ition, s ir," s aid Jus tin, who was accus tomed to thes e complaints from his
parent. "In that I am much like my mother."
"She would be as hamed of ev ery thing els e about y ou!" the marques s s hot back. "Drinking,
wenching, gaming, phaeton racing--y ou are a dis grace to y our mother' s memory , and to my
name!"
Jus tin' s mouth tightened. The death of Aurelia, Marchiones s of Hunts ley , s ome four y ears earlier
had left a deep and aching emptines s in his heart. Jus tin' s mother had alway s unders tood him,
whereas his father made
no s ecret of his preference for the older s on, W illiam.
"Sit down," the marques s ordered, pointing to the chair behind which Jus tin had barricaded
hims elf agains t the inev itable parental fury . "I hav e a tas k for y ou."
"I am as tonis hed to learn that y ou think me capable of any thing other than winning a phaeton
race," Jus tin murmured. At a s narl from his father he s at down, but he would not keep s ilent. In
London he was cons idered an intelligent man. Only in his father' s pres ence was he reduced to an
inept child. "Since y ou regard me as a fool, why don' t y ou s et W illiam to this tas k, whatev er it
is ?"
"Becaus e W illiam is newly married and I will not s eparate my older s on from his wife until they
hav e bred at leas t two heirs to my title. Nor would I s end Lady Chas tity with him into a dangerous
s ituation until s he has fulfilled her marital duty to y our brother and there are children in the
nurs ery . No, y ou are the only ins trument av ailable to me, s o I am forced to us e y ou."
"Danger?" Jus tin' s ey es gleamed. "W hat danger? W hat is this tas k?"
"The danger lies in the journey , rather than in the tas k its elf." The marques s paus ed for a
moment before continuing. "I do not ex pect y ou to remember my y ounger brother Roger, who was
als o a ne' er-do-well like y ours elf."
"He was the one who went to America to s eek his fortune." Jus tin chos e to ignore the ins ult

to his character. "Didn' t Uncle Roger bankrupt hims elf in an unfortunate inv es tment before he
died in pov erty ?"
"Do not interrupt me, boy . As it happens , Roger' s foolis h inv es tment may turn out to be his
family ' s financial s alv ation. Twenty y ears ago he put all his s av ings into s hares in the
Ches apeake and Delaware Canal Company . W ork was begun on the canal, then s topped for lack
of money . I do not ex pect y ou to know aught of the geography of that area--"
"Oh, but I do." Des pite his father' s admonition, Jus tin dared to interrupt, for his interes t was
piqued by what the marques s was telling him, as it had been piqued a week prev ious ly by the
s omewhat drunken dis cours e of an acquaintance who was recently returned to London from
Baltimore. Jus tin was glad that he had taken the time to s it in his club and lis ten to what George
Feathercraft was s ay ing, and now he repeated much of that information to his father. "The riv ers
of s outhern Penns y lv ania empty into the Ches apeake Bay , which makes thos e waterway s
us eles s as trans portation routes for the farmers and manufacturers of wes tern Penns y lv ania who
wis h to s ell their products in Philadelphia. Building a canal between Ches apeake Bay and
Delaware Bay would make it eas ier and much more profitable to get goods to Philadelphia. It
would als o s horten by s ome fiv e hundred miles the s ea pas s age between Philadelphia and
Baltimore or W as hington."
"Precis ely ." The marques s regarded his s on with s urpris e. "I had no idea y ou were s o
well-informed. But y ou cannot know the contents of the letter I receiv ed three day s ago from Mr.
Benjamin W ilmot, the agent in Philadelphia who has attended to my affairs in regard to that
American property my brother Roger left to me when he died. The project to rebuild the
Ches apeake and Delaware Canal has been reactiv ated, which means that I hav e hope of
realiz ing a large profit from thos e old s hares that Roger bought. I trus t y ou are aware that our
family has fallen upon difficult times ?"
"I hav e heard of it, s ir." Jus tin did not res pond to the heav y s arcas m in his father' s v oice.
Jus tin' s own income was s ecured by a s mall inheritance from his mother, which he hus banded
with greater care than his father s us pected. "I will do any thing I can to help. W hat is it y ou want of
me?"
"You are to go to America. In Philadelphia, y ou will meet with Mr. Benjamin W ilmot. You will
make ev ery effort to ex tract as much money as pos s ible from thos e old canal company s tocks
and als o from the s mall farm that Roger held in Mary land."
"The canal company may need to us e its av ailable funds for cons truction cos ts rather than
pay ing large div idends to the s hareholders ." Jus tin was thinking rapidly as he s poke. "I may
hav e to remain in the United States for s ome time. W ould it be pos s ible for me to liv e on Uncle
Roger' s farm? Then there is the

matter of trans ferring funds from Philadelphia to London."
"You may liv e on the farm or not," the marques s res ponded. "I do not care. Your tas k will be to
s ee to it that the money s owed to me are s ent to England as quickly as pos s ible. Mr. W ilmot will
attend to the details of the trans fer. As for the time y ou will hav e to s pend away from England, I
would rather hav e y ou in the wilds of America than in the s tews of London. There mus t be les s
trouble for y ou to get into in America."
Jus tin knew better than to try to argue with his father, and it had at once occurred to him that a trip
to America might be jus t what he needed. Jus tin' s life had become a bit too ex citing in the las t
few day s s ince his deares t friend, Perciv al Cadell, had been forced to flee London after killing the
s on of a powerful earl in a duel ov er the honor of Percy ' s s is ter. Jus tin, who had acted as Percy ' s
s econd and then helped him to a s afe hiding place to es cape the v engeance of the infuriated earl,
could all too eas ily imagine what his own father would hav e to s ay when he heard about his
s on' s part in that particular s candal. It was a miracle that the marques s did not already know.
Jus tin had thought the duel was the reas on his father wanted to s ee him s o urgently , and he was
greatly s urpris ed to dis cov er that he had been called to Hunts ley Hall on another matter entirely .
A long journey acros s an ocean to a new world far from London and s candal, Jus tin thought.
There were fas cinating pos s ibilities inherent in the mis s ion he had jus t been giv en, and his facile
mind went to work immediately , lay ing plans .
"Very well, Father." Jus tin tried to s ound as s erious as he knew the marques s wanted him to be,
but his thoughts were dancing down av enues that would hav e s hocked his father-- and perhaps
would hav e made him refus e to s end Jus tin to America after all. "I will need a week or two to
s ettle my affairs in London. As s oon as that is done, I will make arrangements to s ail to America."
"You will leav e in one week. You will giv e thes e to Mr. W ilmot." The marques s pus hed a packet
of s ealed papers acros s his des k toward Jus tin. "I hav e booked pas s age for y ou on a s hip
leav ing Bris tol nex t Tues day on the morning tide."
"One week?" Jus tin repeated, s tunned by this news . He had hoped for a bit more flex ibility in his
s chedule.
"You will want to return to London at once, to begin s ettling y our affairs , as y ou call it. I s ugges t
y ou begin by handing y our lates t mis tres s ov er to s omeone who is willing to as s ume the leas e
on that hous e y ou rented for her."
"You know about that? Sir, I had planned to s tay here at Hunts ley Hall for one night, at leas t. My
v alet is following in the coach with my clothing and other belongings ."
"Then meet the es timable Gilbert on the road and turn him back to London. You will both hav e
work to do in the nex t few day s . W ell,

what are y ou waiting for? Take thos e papers and leav e. Now."
"Yes , Father." Jus tin s tood up and held out his right hand to his parent. The marques s ignored
the ges ture. "I hope y ou remain in good health until I return, s ir. I will do my bes t for the family ."
"See that y ou don' t fail me," the marques s s aid, his gaz e once more lowered to the papers he
had been s tudy ing when Jus tin had firs t arriv ed. "I will need ev ery farthing y ou can s end to me if
I am to av oid s elling Hunts ley Hall."
Jus tin looked down on his father' s bent head for a moment more before he turned on his heel and
left the library .
Chapter One
Ches apeake City , Mary land January , 1993
"Laid off?" Claris s a s tared at her bos s , one hand arres ted in the act of tucking an errant curl of
glos s y black hair back behind her ear. "I nev er ex pected to hear this from y ou."
"I wis h I didn' t hav e to do this ." Dr. Bucknell' s ey es were s ad behind his thick glas s es . "You
hav e been a wonderful as s is tant and the patients like y ou. I wouldn' t let y ou go if I could pos s ibly
av oid it. But y ou know how it is . W ith the lates t rent increas e on the clinic building and
malpractice ins urance premium rates going up ev ery y ear, the only way I could keep a s econd
medical as s is tant on my s taff would be if I rais ed my fees , and I don' t want to do that. It wouldn' t
be fair to my patients ."
"I unders tand y our reas oning. I ev en agree

with it. But what am I going to do now?" Claris s a turned away s o Dr. Bucknell wouldn' t s ee the
tears filling her ey es . "W e hav e mortgage pay ments to make on the hous e, and Rich has been
out of work for s ix weeks ."
"This reces s ion has been hard on ev ery one. I' ll giv e y ou the bes t pos s ible reference and I will
keep y ou on until the end of the month. You might get lucky and find a new job before then."
"Thanks ." Afraid s he would break down completely , Claris s a left the doctor' s priv ate office and
made her way to the clinic' s s mall laboratory . There Bets y , the other, older medical as s is tant,
awaited her.
"It' s a tough break," Bets y s aid before Claris s a could rev eal her unhappy news .
"Did y ou know about this ?" Claris s a as ked.
"He told me las t night after y ou left. He feels jus t awful about it, and s o do I. I' ll keep my ears
open, and if I hear of any jobs --"
"That' s what he s aid." Claris s a tilted her head in the direction of Dr. Bucknell' s office. "But where
do either of y ou imagine I' ll find another job in this area?"
"There' s alway s W ilmington," Bets y offered. "Lots of doctors hav e offices there near the
hos pital."
"If I hav e to driv e all the way to W ilmington on the highway ev ery day I' ll need a new car, and I
can' t afford to buy one. After pay ing the monthly bills we can barely afford to buy food. Now I' ll
hav e to go home and tell Rich what
has happened." Suddenly Claris s a was unable to s ay any thing els e and ev en more unable to
contemplate telling her hus band about this lates t economic blow.
"Is he s till giv ing y ou trouble?" Bets y as ked with her us ual s y mpathetic air.
"I don' t know what I' m doing wrong. I try s o hard to be a good wife, but he' s s o damned cold and
dis tant. At firs t I believ ed it was becaus e he los t his job jus t before Thanks giv ing, but when I think
about it, I know the trouble s tarted long before the holiday s . I' m really worried about his reaction
to this piece of news . Oh, Bets y , why is ev ery thing s o hopeles s ?" Claris s a s tifled a s ob.
"Surely one of y ou will find work before long," Bets y s aid encouragingly .
"If only Rich would be a little les s quarrels ome. If he would jus t put his arms around me and tell
me he knows we will get through this bad time. I knew marriage would hav e its ups and downs ,
but I nev er imagined it would be s o damned lonely . Lately , I feel as if I' m carry ing the entire
relations hip on my s houlders and Rich is n' t contributing one little bit emotionally ."
"Men," s norted Bets y . "Nev er there when y ou really need them, and who can figure them out? I
s ure can' t. Both of my hus bands were real bas tards and the guy I' m s eeing now is n' t much of an
improv ement. Sometimes I think they ' re all alike."

It was after dark when Claris s a left the clinic run by Dr. Bucknell. The rain had turned to s leet and
her car s lid s ev eral times before s he reached her s mall, one-s tory hous e. She had been s o proud
of the hous e when s he and Rich bought it, s o full of plans to decorate and improv e it, to plant a
garden and build a deck where s he and Rich could eat their dinners during the warm weather.
She had env is ioned the children s he and Rich would hav e--two boy s and two girls , all play ing in
the fenced-in backy ard while the grown-ups drank their coffee on s unny weekend mornings .
Thos e dreams s eemed v ery far away on this bleak ev ening, and s he dreaded hearing Rich' s
comments on the los s of her job.
So deep in gloom was Claris s a as s he pulled into her driv eway that s he s carcely noticed the car
parked in front of the hous e. The s leet was heav ier now, and there were pellets of ice bouncing
off the hood of her car. Fumbling with her key s s he rus hed to the back door, which was nearer
than the front entrance.
"Rich?" The kitchen was empty , but there was a light on in the liv ing room. "Rich, why hav en' t
y ou s tarted dinner? I left the cas s erole in the refrigerator. Did it look too inedible? W ould y ou
rather get a piz z a?"
There was no one in the liv ing room. Hearing a s ound from the direction of the mas ter bedroom,
Claris s a went to the bedroom door and pus hed it open. The light on the beds ide table was lit, s o
s he could s ee into the room quite clearly .
She wis hed s he could not s ee at all. If only it were dark, the ecs tatic moans would hav e told her
what was happening on the bed s he s hared with her hus band, and the darknes s would hav e
s pared her the s ight of his blanket-cov ered back and his unmis takable mov ements . But the room
was not dark, and s he could s ee that on this ev ening her hus band was s haring their bed with
s omeone els e. Claris s a adv anced into the room, her feet s ilent on the carpet. She was numb, in a
s tate of s hock, but s he knew one thing: s he had to find out who was with Rich.
"I lov e y ou, lov e y ou," Rich whis pered s oftly to his companion. His words tore at Claris s a' s
heart. Once Rich had s poken to her like that, when they were newly married and deep in lov e. At
leas t, s he had been in lov e.
"Harder. Harder," Rich' s lov er cried, s till unaware of Claris s a' s pres ence. "Oh, Rich honey , don' t
s top now or I' ll die."
Claris s a thought s he recogniz ed that v oice. Aching with dis gus t and rev uls ion at the lov ers and
at hers elf, y et unable to prev ent hers elf from making certain, s he took another s tep and then
another, tiptoeing toward the s ide of the bed. She looked down at the couple there, noting with the
eerily detached precis ion of s ev ere emotional s hock that Rich was pumping v iolently in res pons e
to his lov er' s demands and noting, too, the wriggling encouragement he was getting from his
partner. Rich gav e a s trangled cry and went rigid--and now Claris s a was clos e enough to s ee who
was in bed with him.

"How could y ou?" s he s creamed. "My friend! Friend? W hat kind of friend would betray me like
this ? W hat kind of hus band would? Damn y ou! Damn y ou both!"
Claris s a was not aware of leav ing the bedroom or of pas s ing through the liv ing room or the
kitchen. She only knew that s he had to get away from the s cene in the bedroom where Rich, the
man s he had married and planned to s pend the res t of her life with, now lay in a pas s ionate
embrace with her dear friend. She had to get out of the hous e s he and Rich s hared. After what s he
had jus t s een, it was her home no longer.
She went through the kitchen door s o fas t that s he s lipped on the ice-cov ered back s teps and fell,
cracking her knee on the s idewalk. She felt no dis comfort from the injury . The pain in her heart
was s o great, s o all env eloping, that nothing could s upers ede it. Sobbing bitterly , Claris s a
wrenched open the car door and collaps ed into the driv er' s s eat. She s aw the kitchen light go on,
and then the porch light, and s he knew Rich would come after her. If s he s aw him s he would
probably kill him.
Slamming down the gas pedal, s he s kidded back down the driv eway . W hen s he s hifted into
driv e, the car s lid s ideway s on the s lippery road. Then s he was s lipping and s liding down the
s treet, heading away from the hous e, heading any where that was far from Rich and his lov er, and
far from Claris s a' s pain.
But the pain went with her, mis ting her ey es , dulling her brain. She knew s he ought to s top,
or at leas t driv e more s lowly , but s omething in her demanded s peed. Before s he s topped driv ing
s he wanted to put as much dis tance as pos s ible between hers elf and Rich, and the fas ter s he did
it, the better.
"How could y ou hurt me like that?" Claris s a as ked her abs ent hus band. "How could y ou care s o
little about me or about what we had together? How many times hav e y ou done that in our bed
and I nev er gues s ed it? In our bed, Rich, where y ou were too tired to make lov e to me, or too
ups et about being out of work for s o long. Oh, God, all thos e day s when I was at the clinic and
y ou were home alone--were y ou really alone? And thos e ov ernight trips to job interv iews --what
wonderful ex cus es they mus t hav e been for y ou. W hat' s wrong with me that I didn' t s ee what was
happening, that I nev er gues s ed?"
Claris s a reached the bridge ov er the canal. Still uncertain jus t where s he wanted to go, s he
floored the gas pedal, increas ing her s peed as s he as cended the s teep grade of the arch of the
bridge. W hen s he reached the top s he kept her foot on the pedal. The s leet and rain had froz en
s olid on the upper reaches of the bridge s o that s he was in effect s kating, rather than driv ing, on
the downward s lope.
Claris s a s aw the truck coming toward her jus t as s he roared toward the bottom of the bridge. W ith
a s udden jerk, s he turned the s teering wheel s harply to the right.
Claris s a nev er knew what happened nex t, whether s he actually hit the truck or mis s ed

it by inches . She felt the car making a right turn, but after the truck went pas t s he could not
s traighten out the wheel. She continued in the s ame s harp turn until the right front fender of her
car hit s omething s olid. The s ound of ripping metal as s aulted her ears , followed by a flas h of
blinding blue light. She s uddenly realiz ed that her foot was s till jammed down hard on the gas
pedal. She knew s he ought to take her foot off the gas , but s he couldn' t s eem to do it. Then s he
and her car were s ailing through the air. The car door nex t to her tore open. In her anguis hed
has te to leav e her hous e s he had neglected to fas ten the s eat belt, s o when the car tilted to the
left, Claris s a fell out of it.
The night was black and cold, like the water toward which s he was plummeting. She heard hers elf
s cream. . . .
Chapter Two
It was cons iderably warmer, but s till raining hard at dawn when Rich Brown s tood with his friend
and a police officer, the three of them s taring down at the murky gray water of the canal.
" W hen we got the car out," the policeman s aid, "we found the regis tration in the glov e
compartment. That' s how we knew it was y our car, s ir. You s ay y our wife was driv ing it and s he
was alone?"
"That' s right." Rich s hook his head, the v ery picture of a griev ing hus band. He pas s ed a hand
acros s his face as if to wipe away tears . In the heav y rain no one could s ay that he was not
cry ing. "She went out las t ev ening to get cream for my morning coffee. I told her the weather was
too bad for her to driv e and I' d make do with milk, but s he ins is ted."
" W e had a report from a trucker who s aid he pas s ed a car matching the des cription of Mrs .

Brown' s . The trucker s aid s he s eemed to be out of control and was driv ing much too fas t. Like a
bat out of hell is how he put it. He s aid s he only mis s ed him by a few inches . Apparently , s he
s werv ed to the right and cras hed through both the guardrail and the fence."
"It certainly looks like s turdy protection," Rich' s friend remarked.
"It is ," the policeman replied. "It was intended to prev ent ex actly this kind of accident. W e can' t
figure out how Mrs . Brown got through it."
"By going like a bat out of hell," Rich' s friend murmured.
"Howev er it happened, we s till hav e to find the body ." The policeman s ent a s y mpathetic look
Rich' s way . "You may not want to s tay , s ir. Is there any one els e who ought to be notified?"
"No," Rich s aid. "Claris s a was an only child and her parents are dead. Ex cept for a few dis tant
relativ es who liv e out of the country , there is no one but me."
"You s houldn' t be alone at a time like this ," s aid the policeman.
"I' ll s tay with him. I know what he' s going through. Claris s a was my friend, too." His companion
put a hand on Rich' s s houlder, and the policeman mov ed away . Rich did not s peak until the
officer was bey ond hearing dis tance.
"I was planning to tell her las t night that I got the job in California and that I wanted a div orce
before I left," Rich s aid. "I didn' t want to hurt her any more than I had to. I didn' t want her
to know about us . And I nev er wis hed for her death."
"But this does s implify things ," his friend pointed out. "Now s he can' t tell any one that s he s aw us
together."
"I gues s y ou' re right." Rich heav ed a deep s igh. "Poor Claris s a. She lov ed me, y ou know."
" W e' ll arrange a nice funeral s erv ice for her." His friend s poke in a bracing tone. "Then y ou can
s ell the hous e and mov e to California. After a decent interv al, I' ll join y ou there."
"Yes ." W ith another s igh, Rich turned away from the canal. "I gues s things hav e worked out for
the bes t, hav en' t they ? Let' s go now. I don' t want to be here when they bring up her body . I
couldn' t deal with that."
"I unders tand, dear." But as they walked off the bridge, Rich' s companion added quietly , "If y ou
as k me, I think this happened jus t in time."

Chapter Three
Light, brilliant and golden, blinding Claris s a. Too bright. . . too painful to open her ey es into that
light. Better to s tay in the darknes s .
"Turn her ov er again, boy s ," s aid a rough mas culine v oice. "Pus h hard on her back."
Hands turned her unprotes ting body as ordered. Hands --there s eemed to be doz ens of
them--pres s ed down upon her ribs and s pine. She s truggled to draw air into her lungs and could
not.
"For God' s s ake, man, do y ou intend to break her ev ery rib?" A new v oice, more commanding and
with a dis tinct Englis h accent, interrupted the would-be helpers . "Here, let me try ."
The pummeling hands ceas ed their painful work. Two s trong male arms went around her wais t,
lifting her and pres s ing her back agains t a firm body . W ithout warning, the arms tightened, joined
fis ts s lamming into her jus t below her rib
cage. W ater poured from Claris s a' s throat and lungs . W ith the water gone, there was room for air
to enter. She gas ped, greedily s ucking in the air her body crav ed. The fis ts tightened for a s econd
time and more water erupted from her mouth. Claris s a began to fight agains t the man who was
holding her.
"Enough." She coughed, s pewing water and air.
"Can y e breathe now, girl?" the firs t man as ked, s tooping down to peer into her face as s he hung
limply ov er the s econd man' s arm. He glanced upward, looking bey ond Claris s a. "Jack, me lad, I
think s he' ll liv e. Ye can put her down now."
The man holding Claris s a lowered her to the ground. Kneeling, he s upported her in a s itting
pos ition agains t his thigh, with one of his arms acros s her s houlders .
"Someone bring us a blanket," he ordered. "She is s hiv ering."
"And jus t where in the name of all the s aints would y e be thinkin' a man' ll find a blanket in this
weather?" his companion demanded.
"Then we will us e my coat. She cannot remain like this , wearing only her s hift."
"Ay e, and that' s another thing. W hy would a female be floatin' in the canal wearin' only her s hift,
may I as k y e? Did s omeone try to murder her? Or--Mother of Heav en pres erv e us --did the poor
thing try to kill hers elf? W e cannot hav e females drownin' in the canal. It' ll giv e the place a bad
name."
" W e can as k ques tions later, when s he has had

time to recov er from her ordeal. Now, get my coat, Sam. And my boots and hat, too, if y ou
can find them."
"The boots ' ll be jus t where y e dropped them, my lord, when y e were preparin' to jump in to
res cue her, but y er hat is los t." "Don' t call me my lord!" "Men," Claris s a muttered, s till with her
ey es clos ed, s till not s ure what was happening or why . "Alway s men caus ing trouble."
"I take it y ou are not ov erly fond of the mas culine gender?" murmured the man who was
holding her.
"I hate men." Claris s a tried to turn her head away from the painful brightnes s that penetrated her
lowered lids . The only s hadow av ailable to her was the area nex t to his broad ches t. W hen s he
mov ed toward that s hade s he immediately found hers elf ly ing with her cheek agains t damp fabric
beneath which thrummed a s teady
heartbeat.
"Surely y ou cannot hate all men?" Her res cuer res ponded to her weary s tatement with barely
dis guis ed humor. "It would be a pity if y ou dis dained ev ery one of us , for y ou, madam, are
plainly made to delight and pleas e a man."
"That' s what y ou all s ay at firs t," Claris s a told him, her cheek s till pres s ed on his ches t.
"Here' s y er coat, my --er, Jack, and y er boots as well, but y e los t y er hat when y e jumped in
after her."
"Thank y ou, Sam." A heav y garment was draped around Claris s a' s s houlders . The motion
inv olv ed in this procedure rous ed her completely from the s tupor that was holding her in thrall.
"You are the one who pulled me out of the water?" By a great effort s he finally managed to get
her ey es wide open. Immediately , s he was compelled to s quint agains t the glare of the s un s o
that s he could s ee the man who was s till holding her.
He was remarkably hands ome, with finely chis eled features and a long, high-bridged nos e. His
ey es were gray behind dark las hes . His hair was wet, dark, and s traight. It was worn pulled back
into a low pony tail and fas tened with a dripping wet black ribbon. His white s hirt--a poet' s s hirt,
s he noted, with wide s leev es and an open, s las hed neckline--was als o wet, as the s kin of her
cheek had earlier informed her.
"Ay e, girl, he' s Jack Martin, y er res cuer," the man called Sam s aid. "And right happy we' d be to
hear y e s ay jus t how y e got into the canal."
"I fell," Claris s a s aid. She frowned, try ing hard to recall ex actly what had happened. She
remembered s leet, darknes s , her car trav eling much too fas t on the downward arc of the bridge.
"Fell where?" Sam as ked. "I came off the Ches apeake City Bridge and s ides wiped a truck. My
wheels locked--did s omething happen to my brakes ? It was s o icy , s uch a terrible s torm." She
floundered to a confus ed halt when the man holding her tightened his arms around her in a way
that conv ey ed a s tern warning. The mes s age was immediately reinforced by his low, urgent
v oice in her ear.

"Madam, I s ugges t that y ou be s ilent," he adv is ed, "els e thes e men will think y ou are a
madwoman."
"I am beginning to wonder about that my s elf." Claris s a s hrugged off Jack Martin' s arms to s it up
and look around. A group of a doz en men-half of them black and the other half white, but all clad
in the s ame ty pe of wrinkled, dirt-s treaked blue ov eralls and work s hirts --s tood nearby , watching
her and the two men with her. Claris s a as s umed that thes e workmen were the owners of the
many hands that had tried to force the water out of her lungs and s tart her breathing again. W ith
one of her own hands on Jack Martin' s s houlder for lev erage, s he got to her feet a bit uns teadily
to face the men.
"Thank y ou," s he s aid to them. "All of y ou. I appreciate what y ou did for me."
A few of the men grinned at her, a few s huffled their feet in the dus ty ground. Sev eral looked
pointedly at Claris s a' s legs , which ex tended well below the hem of Jack Martin' s coat. Following
the direction of their glances , Claris s a looked down at her own legs and feet.
"Oh, my God!" The white s hoes s he wore ev ery day were gone. Her panty hos e were laddered
with runners , and s he s uddenly realiz ed that the white uniform in which s he dres s ed for her work
at Dr. Bucknell' s clinic was als o mis s ing. Beneath Jack Martin' s coat s he wore only the remains
of her panty hos e, her briefs , bra, and the opaque white s lip that s he had worn under her uniform.
" W hat has happened to me? W here am I?"
Turning away from the men, Claris s a s tared at the unfamiliar s urroundings . She s tood on a s pit of
land bounded by water. On one s ide of her flowed a laz y greenis h riv er. On the other s ide lay a
ditch about 60 feet wide, its s ides s hored up by s tout timbers . Claris s a could not tell how deep
the ditch was , becaus e it was full of water. A s hort dis tance away on the s ame s pit of land s at a
s quare, unpainted building from which is s ued a s ound s he thought s he recogniz ed.
"Is that a s team engine?" s he as ked.
"It is in the pump hous e," Jack Martin ans wered her. He was watching her clos ely . "They are
tes ting the lock."
"The lock?" s he repeated. "But there aren' t any --not any more."
She looked around again, getting her bearings and taking in more details on this s econd
s canning of the area. On the s outh s ide of the riv er s tood a two-s tory hous e and a few s hacks . All
of the buildings were unpainted and the s hacks looked as if they would fall down in the s lightes t
wind. Bey ond thes e buildings Claris s a could s ee workmen carry ing long boards and what looked
like heav y wooden beams . She thought they were putting up another hous e. A narrow wooden
bridge connected the s ettlement on the s outh s ide of the riv er with the land where s he and the
men were s tanding.
" W here am I?" s he as ked again in utter bewilderment.

"Ye jus t came out of there," Sam replied, pointing to the ditch.
"Ex actly what is there?" Claris s a demanded.
" W hy , girl, ' tis the wes tern end of the great Ches apeake and Delaware Canal, the fines t work of
engineering ev er s een in the modern world," Sam informed her proudly . "To y er left is the firs t
lock. The riv er y e s ee is Back Creek, a branch of the Elk Riv er."
"That' s not--this can' t be." Claris s a s topped. She remembered s eeing pictures of the old canal
taken before the federal gov ernment had bought it in the early twentieth century and turned the
Army Corps of Engineers loos e on it to widen and s traighten the waterway s o large s hips could
us e it. W hat s he s aw before her clos ely res embled thos e old photographs . "Is this s ome
his torical ex hibit y ou' re building?"
"It will be a fine ex hibit on the official opening day ," Jack Martin ans wered her, "though I doubt if
the inv es tors will be greatly pleas ed by the final cos t of building the thing."
"The canal is n' t opened y et?" Claris s a tried hard to make s ens e of this . Then s he remarked on
another anomaly , one s he had actually been aware of s ince firs t regaining cons cious nes s . "W hy
is the s un s hining s o brightly ? W hy is it s o warm?"
"Becaus e it' s mid-July ," Sam s aid. He was a s hort, burly man with s andy hair and blue ey es that
might, on s ome more joy ful occas ion, hav e twinkled at her with eas y laughter. At the moment,
Sam' s ey es were filled with concern for her. "W ouldn' t y e ex pect warm weather at (he height of
the s ummer?"
"But it' s not s ummer." She s topped hers elf from declaring that the month was January , warned
again by a frown and an almos t imperceptible s hake of the head from Jack Martin. "Of cours e I
would ex pect July to be hot and s unny ," s he s aid to Sam. "My confus ion mus t be the res ult of
nearly drowning."
"How did y e get into the canal?" Sam as ked once again, "And where are y er clothes ?"
"Leav e off, man," Jack Martin ordered. "The lady has endured a terrify ing ex perience. She needs
dry clothing, a cup of wine, and a chance to gather her wits together."
"Yes , pleas e." Claris s a agreed to thes e mos t welcome s ugges tions with ferv or.
"And where are y e thinkin' to take her to procure s uch refinements ?" as ked Sam. "Not to Madam
Ros e' s hous e, I' ll be bound."
"For the moment, it s eems the only place to take her," Jack Martin res ponded. "W e will think of
s omething more s uitable later. Madam, are y ou able to walk acros s that bridge y ou s ee or s hall I
carry y ou?"
"I' ll walk." The thought of being lifted into thos e s trong arms a s econd time and carried s uch a
dis tance was too uns ettling to contemplate. Claris s a did not want any man to touch her unles s it
were abs olutely neces s ary . She was finis hed with men, thos e treacherous and undependable
creatures .
Still, s he could not help admiring the way the

damp gray fabric of Jack Martin' s trous ers clung to his long, mus cular legs . W hile s he had been
try ing to decide ex actly what had happened to her, he had taken the opportunity to pull on a pair
of high black boots . W hen he lifted his head from this tas k, his dry ing hair gleamed dark reddis h
brown, like fine mahogany in the s unlight. A wide black leather belt circled his s lim wais t. He
res ted his hands at his belt and s he s aw how long fingered and graceful they were. Claris s a
could eas ily imagine thos e hands holding a s word and quelling s ome fierce opponent--or
res cuing a lady in dis tres s .
"Damned romantic nons ens e," s he muttered to hers elf and s tarted toward the bridge.
The wooden planks were like a boardwalk at the s eas hore, hot in the July s un and s o rough hewn
that s he had to s tep carefully to av oid gouging her feet full of s plinters . Tiptoeing along in the
s hattered remnants of her panty hos e, guarded on either s ide by Jack Martin and Sam, Claris s a
s lowly made her way acros s the riv er. Sev eral of the workmen trailed behind them. The bridge
ended at a rutted, baked-mud s treet.
"This is Bohemia Av enue," Jack Martin informed her. "The town is Bohemia Village."
Claris s a was about to reply that s he knew Bohemia Av enue and that, according to her high-s chool
his tory teacher, Ches apeake City had not been called Bohemia Village s ince the middle of the
las t century , but s he bit back the words , deciding not to offer any more information until s he
dis cov ered ex actly what
was going on. Nothing s he s aw res embled the canal or the Ches apeake City that s he knew. This
Bohemia Village was n' t ev en a v illage; it was jus t one dilapidated building, s ome s hacks , and a
mud road.
To be fair, there were s ev eral new hous es in the proces s of being erected and it looked as if
there would s oon be a few s hops if s he was right in her gues s as to the future of the cons truction
now under way . Claris s a could hear the s ound of hammers , and the clean s mell of fres hly s awn
or s hav en wood drifted on the air, almos t ov ercoming the les s pleas ant odors of s tagnant water
and human refus e.
' "Twill be a fine town once the canal is fit for cons tant us e," Sam s aid, hav ing noted her
interes ted glance toward one of the building s ites . "All the s hips coming through will hav e to s top
here and pay their fees before they enter the locks . W e' ll s oon hav e a general s tore and hous es
for the canal pilots --and a bank to s afely hold all the cas h."
"You are a hopeles s optimis t, Sam," Jack Martin told his friend. "If there are many more
lands lides , y ou will hav e to s tart digging the canal all ov er again."
"Jus t wait and s ee if I' m right," Sam res ponded cheerfully .
The men conducted Claris s a to the large, two-s tory building. The moment they s tepped acros s
the v eranda and through the unpainted door, s he knew what the place was . All s ounds in the main
room s topped when they entered, and ev ery ey e

turned to Claris s a. There were only about 20 or s o people pres ent, lounging on s ettees or
uphols tered chairs or s itting at tables , and at that hour of the day mos t of them were women in
v arious s tages of undres s . The s mells of tobacco and alcohol reached Claris s a' s nos trils , along
with the unex pected fragrance of ros es .
"This is a whorehous e," Claris s a s aid bluntly .
"A s aloon," Sam amended.
"A tav ern," Jack Martin s aid. "A place for the men who work on the canal to come, to eat and drink
and be entertained."
"Ill bet." Claris s a glared at the two men. "Jus t what kind of woman do y ou think I am any way ?"
" W ell, as to that," Sam s aid, "we' re not quite s ure. It has cros s ed me thoughts that y e might hav e
run from this v ery hous e to throw y ers elf into the canal."
"There is nothing," s he informed him, "nothing in this world that would ev er make me commit
s uicide. I hav e recently prov en that to my s elf by s urv iv ing a heartbreaking emotional blow and
then an accident that left me nearly drowned in that ditch out there. And nev er, Mr. Sam, hav e I
ev er been any thing ev en v aguely res embling a pros titute. Quite the oppos ite, in fact. I want
nothing to do with dis gus ting men."
"MacKenz ie," s aid Sam, grinning at her.
" W hat?" She was s o angry s he thought s he had not heard him correctly .
"It' s not Mr. Sam. It' s Samuel James MacKenz ie. At y our s erv ice, madam." The words
were pronounced with only the faintes t trace of a Scottis h accent, and he bowed with a courtly
flouris h.
"You didn' t s ay y er," Claris s a noted.
"That' s for the men out there"--Sam wav ed a hand in the general direction of the canal-- "and for
the women in here. They all ex pect the s uperv is ors to s ound more like the workmen than like our
friend Jack here. I try to oblige them; it makes my work eas ier."
"You mus t unders tand, madam," Jack s aid. He s topped s hort. "I beg y our pardon. W e do not
know y our name."
"Claris s a Jane Cummings ," s he s aid, meeting his probing gray ey es with a lev el gaz e. She
would not us e her married name any longer. The v ery thought of Rich Brown made her feel ill.
She would div orce her errant hus band at the firs t opportunity .
" W hy does y our own name make y ou s o angry ?" Jack Martin' s ques tion made Claris s a realiz e
that her thoughts mus t be mirrored on her face. But s he did not want to ex plain to him about Rich.
" W hat about y ou?" s he countered.
" W hat about me?" His s harp ey es made her dis tinctly uncomfortable.
"Jack is s ometimes a nickname for John," s he s aid. "Is John y our actual name?"
"Jack will do v ery well." Nev er had Claris s a encountered s uch haughty dis dain written acros s
any man' s features . Further pers onal ques tions about him died on her lips , uns poken. "Now,

Mis s Cummings , y ou mus t unders tand that we enjoy few amenities in this rough place."
"I had noticed," s he murmured.
"Therefore, s ince y ou came to us undres s ed, y ou will be compelled to make do with whatev er
clothing is av ailable. Perhaps later we can arrange to s end y ou to W ilmington, where y ou will be
able to purchas e the raiment to which y ou are apparently accus tomed, but for the moment, y ou
will hav e to accept what Madam Ros e can s upply , or els e y ou will go naked."
"I hav e no des ire to go to W ilmington," Claris s a s aid. "I liv e in this area."
"There, madam, y ou lie." Jack s poke in a low, deadly v oice. "I know ev ery one who liv es within
twenty miles on either s ide of the entire length of the canal, and y ou are not among the citiz ens of
this locale, either in Mary land or in Delaware."
So as s ured was his tone of v oice that Claris s a could only gape at him, dumbfounded and unable
to think of any thing to s ay in res pons e to his accus ation that s he was ly ing. How could he know
ev ery one he claimed to know? And how could he be s o damned s ure--and s o mis taken-- about
her?
" W ell?" he s aid after a long moment' s paus e. "W ill y ou allow Madam Ros e to dres s y ou?"
"Do I hav e a choice?" Claris s a s napped.
"You may not believ e it," he s aid with a glance at the lounging women in their flims y wrappers
and low-cut chemis es , "but there is res pectable clothing to be found in this hous e."
"Sure there is ," Claris s a s pat back, "for the
pleas ure of men who want to pretend they ' re raping innocent, old-fas hioned s choolgirls ."
She was delighted to s ee that both men actually looked s hocked by this remark. Claris s a was
fas t growing tired of the game they were play ing. She wanted a rational ex planation for her
pres ence in this canal-building theme park, and then s he wanted to find a quiet place where s he
could take a hot s hower, put on a clean bathrobe, and lie down on a comfortable bed in
air-conditioned coolnes s and s leep until s he was res ted enough to cope with the mes s her life
had become.
It didn' t look as if s he was going to get that kind of break. Jack Martin' s intriguingly s haped lips
parted, almos t certainly to s cald her with s ome s nooty , Englis h-accented quip about her apparent
knowledge of brothels --as if s he had ev er s een one ex cept on telev is ion--but he nev er s aid
whatev er he was planning, becaus e their little group was joined by a remarkable-looking woman.
"Ah, Madam Ros e," Sam s aid. "Jus t the pers on we wanted to s ee."
"Hello, Sam." Madam Ros e was clos e to s ix feet tall and the mas s es of pale blonde hair piled on
top of her head made her look taller s till. She wore a floor-length gown of ros e s ilk, cut with a
rather high wais tline, long tight s leev es , and a modes t neckline that ended in a narrow lace ruffle
at her throat. The s kirt of the gown was trimmed with an abundance of ruffles , lace, flowers of
matching s ilk, and heav y ros e cording.

Madam Ros e' s height, s trong facial bones , and cool blue ey es gav e her the appearance of a
Viking goddes s and s he had the dignity to fit that role--with one aberration. Sam MacKenz ie
barely reached her s houlder, but the s mile s he bes towed on him s ugges ted that Sam' s lack of
phy s ical s tature was no problem at all s o far as their relations hip was concerned. After her warm
greeting to Sam, Madam Ros e turned more formal with Claris s a' s other es cort.
"Good day to y ou, Mr. Martin. How can I help
y ou?"
"Mis s Cummings fell into the canal and her clothing was s wept away before we could res cue
her," Jack Martin s aid.
"I heard the commotion." A faint glimmer of humor lit the cool Scandinav ian ey es . "W hat a pity
that the undertow in our s till uncompleted canal is s trong enough to rip the v ery garments off a
poor woman' s back."
"She needs s omething to wear until s he can make new clothing," Jack Martin s aid.
"Something s imple," Claris s a put in, refraining from adding that s he had no intention of s ewing
any clothing at all. Sewing was not her thing, not when there were plenty of s hops in the nearby
mall.
"You can put it on my bill, darlin' ," Sam s aid, giv ing Madam Ros e a heated look.
"Your bill, when y ou finally bother to pay it," Madam Ros e rejoined, "will buy me a new hous e
and furnis h it bes ides ."
"Let the bill ris e a little higher and it' ll buy y er freedom from this line o' work," Sam s ugges ted,
s liding an arm around Madam Ros e' s wais t. "And I' ll begin y er new life by makin' an hones t
woman of y e."
"You could begin by lay ing as ide that ridiculous and patently inaccurate accent." The words were
s poken in an affectionate tone, but Madam Ros e went back to bus ines s at once, turning her full
attention to Claris s a. "If y ou will come ups tairs to the wardrobe room, Mis s Cummings , I will
endeav or to find s omething to fit y ou." She ges tured toward a wooden s taircas e.
"This is not Sam' s res pons ibility ," Jack Martin s aid. "I will pay for Mis s Cumming' s clothing in
cas h."
"I don' t want to owe any thing to a man," Claris s a s aid to him, rather ungracious ly . "I' ll repay y ou
as s oon as I can get things s orted out."
"I hav e no objection to any arrangements y ou wis h to make, Mr. Martin." Madam Ros e nodded
toward Claris s a. "Come with me, Mis s Cummings . If y ou gentlemen would care for a drink while
y ou wait or a s lice of cold roas t beef or s ome bread and chees e, Dancy will be happy to s erv e
y ou."
"I' d rather be s erv ed by y ers elf, Ros e, in y er own s pecial way ," the irrepres s ible Sam s aid with a
wink, "but I' ll make do with Dancy jus t this once."
" W e will await y our return in the taproom, Mis s Cummings ," Jack Martin s aid, turning

toward the huge black man who came forward to take the men' s orders .
"Is Dancy y our bouncer?" Claris s a as ked Madam Ros e as they as cended the rickety s tairs to the
s econd floor.
"My what?" Madam Ros e looked puz z led.
"The one who remov es obs treperous patrons from the premis es ," Claris s a s aid, try ing to s uit her
language to the s urroundings . She was too tired to argue that any one in Madam Ros e' s bus ines s
s hould hav e known what a bouncer was . "The pers on who maintains order in y our
es tablis hment."
"I maintain order here," Madam Ros e s aid. "Dancy is cook, dis hwas her, barman, and y es , he
does occas ionally remov e a cus tomer who has imbibed too heartily . He is als o a full partner in
my bus ines s . Do y ou find that objectionable, Mis s Cummings ?" She s uddenly s ounded
defens iv e.
"No," Claris s a ans wered. "W hy s hould I object?"
"Becaus e Dancy is a freed s lav e."
"Slav e?" Claris s a nearly tripped on the top s tep. She recov ered in time to hurry after Madam
Ros e into a s mall room crammed with clothing that was piled on ches ts , chairs , and a bed with a
badly s agging mattres s . The walls of the room were unpainted wooden planks . There was one
window cov ered by a wooden s hutter, als o unpainted. This Madam Ros e threw open to admit
more light.
"Good heav ens ." Claris s a s tared around her,
unbeliev ing. "This room looks like a theatrical cos tumer' s v ault. I' v e nev er s een s o many
s pangles or feathers or gaudy colors in one place before."
"In a way , the girls who work for me are actres s es ," Madam Ros e res ponded. "The cus tomers
often require them to play a part. It makes the proces s more enjoy able, y ou s ee, which
encourages the cus tomers to return often, s o that we all make more money ."
"This is craz y . I don' t believ e this is happening. W here the hell am I?"
"You ought not to curs e, Mis s Cummings . It is mos t unlady like. I do not permit my girls to curs e.
Refinement of s peech is v itally important."
"I us ually watch my tongue," Claris s a confided. "At the clinic where I work, we deal with a lot of
elderly patients and they don' t like to hear a y oung woman s wear, s o I try not to do it. It' s jus t that
this has been one god-awful--ex cus e me. I mean, this has been a mos t peculiar day . Oh, Lord,
jus t lis ten to me. I' m babbling like an idiot." She collaps ed backward onto the creaking mattres s ,
giv ing way firs t to uncontrollable giggles and then to equally uncontrollable tears .
"I don' t know what' s wrong with me," s he wept, bury ing her face in a ruffled red s atin petticoat.
"Pleas e don' t dampen the cos tumes . Here, this will help." From s omewhere amongs t the
v oluminous folds of her pink s ilk s kirts , Madam Ros e produced a tiny v ial. She pulled out the

s topper and then held the v ial under Claris s a' s nos e. "Breathe deeply of this ."
Claris s a choked and gagged on the ammonia s cent that wafted from the bottle, but her tears
s topped.
"Sal v olatile," Madam Ros e ex plained, replacing the s topper in the bottle. "Smelling s alts . I
alway s keep a v ial handy . Some of my new girls become hy s terical when they firs t begin to work
here."
"I s houldn' t wonder." Claris s a y earned to as k Madam Ros e how an apparently intelligent woman
had become inv olv ed in s uch a career, but s he lacked the nerv e to pry s o deeply into the affairs
of s omeone s he did not know.
"If y ou are feeling quite recov ered," Madam Ros e s aid after a few minutes had pas s ed, "let me
look at y ou and judge y our s iz e."
W hen Claris s a s at up, Madam Ros e pus hed Jack Martin' s coat off her s houlders and s tood
gaz ing at her figure with a profes s ionally cons idering ey e.
"You are much too s lender to s uit any but the mos t degenerate of my patrons ," s he told Claris s a.
"I' m glad to hear it," Claris s a res ponded. "Pros titution would not be my firs t career choice."
"I can tell. You don' t hav e the look of a girl who would enjoy this kind of life," Madam Ros e s aid.
"Some girls do enjoy it, y ou know, at leas t for a s hort time. They like the attention men pay to
them. Others take to this life out of des peration to keep thems elv es from s tarv ing. There
is little els e an uneducated y oung woman can do, if s he has no family to feed and hous e and
protect her."
"Is that how y ou got into the bus ines s ?" Claris s a as ked, curios ity finally ov ercoming her
manners . She as ked the ques tion in a s y mpathetic v oice and Madam Ros e did not take offens e,
but s he did fav or Claris s a with a long look before s he ans wered.
"I was betray ed by a man," s he s aid.
"I can identify with that," Claris s a told her. "The s ame thing happened to me. I came home from
work las t night and found my hus band-- found him--" She gulped. Madam Ros e again offered the
v ial of s melling s alts , but Claris s a wav ed it as ide.
"And s o y ou ran away from him," Madam Ros e s aid. "Did y ou throw y ours elf into the canal?"
"No. Rich is n' t worth dy ing for. The mis erable bas tard."
"I approv e of y our s entiment, though I do wis h y ou would moderate y our language." Madam Ros e
pocketed the s melling s alts . "Anger is alway s better than grief. Now let us find clothing for y ou
before Mr. Martin s torms up the s tairs and pounds on the door and commands us to be done with
this bus ines s ."
"You don' t hav e to giv e me any of thes e fancy cos tumes ," Claris s a s aid. "I' ll be perfectly content
with an old pair of jeans and a work s hirt." "W hy in the name of heav en would an attractiv e
woman like y ours elf want to look like a

workman?" Madam Ros e appeared to be genuinely horrified by this idea. "You cannot think to
dis guis e y ours elf and thus hide from y our s earching hus band?"
"No." Claris s a s ighed. "Rich probably is n' t looking for me. After what he did, I wonder if he ev er
cared about me, and he mus t know that I don' t want any thing more to do with him. I jus t want to
forget I ev er had a hus band."
"In that cas e, y ou need not concern y ours elf about s erious purs uit on his part Nor will I mention
to any one in Bohemia Village that y ou hav e a hus band." Madam Ros e turned bris k. "Let me s ee.
W hat would fit y ou?" Searching in one of the trunks , s he pulled from it a s oft gray cotton dres s ,
the fabric s prigged with blue and y ellow flowers and tiny green
leav es .
"How pretty ." Claris s a touched the s kirt. "But
it' s s o long."
"No, it is not. It' s too s hort," Madam Ros e declared "Your ankles will s how, but y ou could add a
flounce at the hem to lengthen it. Here is the fichu to go with it, and this is the petticoat. You will
want another chemis e to replace the one y ou are wearing. Since Mr. Martin is pay ing for all of
this , I will try to find a s econd dres s that will fit y ou."
Claris s a held up the s heer white cotton fichu, which had a narrow ruffle all around its edges . She
had s een enough pictures of Martha W as hington and Bets y Ros s to know what a fichu
was and how it was worn. It was intended to be draped around the neckline of a dres s and knotted
s o the long ends would hang down the front of the dres s .
"Here." Madam Ros e held up a long gown with a blue-green bodice and a white s kirt. "You will
need another petticoat for this dres s and a s econd chemis e. Then, s tockings , garters , s hoes , a
night rail and wrapper, and a hat and glov es ." She began piling the items on the bed as s he
v erbally lis ted them. W hen s he lifted what looked like a big s traw s unbonnet out of a round
hat-box , Claris s a los t her patience.
"Stop it!" s he cried. "I am not interes ted in all this fancy dres s s tuff. I jus t want s omething to
cov er me decently until I can get out of here. I' ll buy s ome real clothes at the mall, and I promis e
I' ll pay y ou back for whatev er I wear when I leav e here. In fact, if y ou' ll take credit cards , I' ll pay
right now. Oh, s h--I mean, oh, good heav ens , I' v e los t my purs e."
"Mr. Martin has s aid he will pay me in cas h, and he will do s o before y ou leav e my hous e. You
may s ettle with him for the bill, if y ou wis h." Madam Ros e was unperturbed by Claris s a' s
emotional outburs t. "As for the dres s es , I do as s ure y ou they are the s imples t ones I hav e. Both
of them will be mos t becoming to y ou, with y our dark hair and thos e remarkable blue-green ey es .
If y ou need a purs e, I can s upply one. Nor will I tell any one who comes looking for y ou where y ou
hav e gone, if that is why y ou are s o eager

to leav e Bohemia Village. I am an ex pert at concealing the whereabouts of y oung women who
want to dis appear quietly . You appear to be a mos t unus ual y oung woman with y our own s ecrets
to hide. Now, after y our plunge into that dirty canal, I ex pect y ou would like a bath, wouldn' t y ou?"
s he s aid, the s udden change in s ubject s topping Claris s a from making another has ty and
ill-cons idered s peech.
"I don' t want to inconv enience y ou." The thought of Claris s a Jane Cummings taking a bath in
s uch an es tablis hment as Madam Ros e' s was abs olutely incredible.
"Conv enience has nothing to do with it. Mr. Martin will pay for y our bath. Come with me."
Madam Ros e kept a tiny room s et as ide ex clus iv ely for bathing. Once the copper tub was filled
with buckets of s teaming water carried in by two y oung black girls who looked like twins , Madam
Ros e handed Claris s a a bar of s oap and a cotton bathrobe that had a double ruffle down its front.
" W hen y ou hav e finis hed, go back to the wardrobe room," Madam Ros e ins tructed. "The girls will
help y ou to dres s . I mus t attend to bus ines s downs tairs ."
Claris s a was hot, s ticky with partially dried canal water, and ready to break into tears again at the
s lightes t prov ocation. She looked after Madam Ros e' s departing back, then at the tub of lov ely
clean water. The s oap in her hand was , of cours e, ros e s cented.
"Oh, what the hell," s he murmured, s niffing at the s oap. "W hatev er is going on, I may as well
enjoy it."
Half an hour later, feeling greatly refres hed and with her s kin and hair s melling of ros es , Claris s a
allowed the two black girls , who told her their names were Emmie and Lucy , to help her into the
gray s prigged-cotton dres s .
"But no cors et," Claris s a ins is ted, rejecting the heav y white linen garment with its buckram
s tiffening and narrow s tay s . "I refus e to be that authentic for this Early American pageant."
"You s carcely need a cors et." Madam Ros e rejoined her at that point. "In fact, y ou are much too
thin, Mis s Cummings . You will hav e to eat more if y ou wis h to fill out y our dres s ."
"This is the firs t time I' v e ev er been giv en that adv ice," Claris s a s aid. "I' v e been dieting all my
life."
"Emmie, Lucy , pack up the remainder of Mis s Cummings ' s belongings in that bandbox and put
them into Mr. Martin' s cart. It is waiting outs ide the front door. And be quick about it," Madam
Ros e added. "He is growing impatient."
"Mr. Martin' s cart?" Claris s a repeated.
"It has been decided that y ou will s tay with him at his farm for a few day s ," Madam Ros e
informed her.
" W ho decided this ? Did he?" Claris s a' s ey es flas hed. "I won' t do what any man s ay s jus t
becaus e he s ay s s o. From now on, I make my

own decis ions . W here is he? I' ll tell him s o my s elf and s av e y ou the trouble."
"I would not cros s him if I were y ou," Madam Ros e adv is ed. The cool s tatement gav e Claris s a
paus e.
"Jus t how well do y ou know Jack Martin?" Claris s a demanded, the ques tion making Madam Ros e
s mile as if s he unders tood a s ecret to which Claris s a was not priv y . "I thought y ou and Sam
MacKenz ie--"
"Sam is an old friend," s aid Madam Ros e.
"And does Jack Martin come to v is it y ou, too?" Claris s a did not know why s he was as king s o
many impolite ques tions . She was us ually much more dis creet. It was no bus ines s of hers if Jack
Martin s lept with ev ery girl at Madam Ros e' s hous e twice in each week and with Madam Ros e
hers elf on Sunday s . Madam Ros e did not s eem at all s urpris ed by her heated words .
"I no longer work in that way ," s he s aid to Claris s a. "I am too bus y with the management of this
es tablis hment. Mos t of the men who labor on this end of the canal come here, and the
contractors , too, but Mr. Martin les s often than the others . He has no particular girl of whom he is
fond, though the girls like him becaus e he is kind to them and alway s pay s them a little ex tra
when he is finis hed."
Her face red with embarras s ment for hav ing as ked the ques tion, Claris s a went through the open
door and headed toward the s teps , and Madam Ros e s aid s oftly , "Be careful, Mis s Cummings .
You are an innocent, and he is not."
"I hate men," Claris s a s aid. "I am not interes ted in Mr. Martin in that way ."
"Of cours e not." Madam Ros e s miled at her. It was a real s mile, not the carefully calculated s mile
the madam of a whorehous e routinely bes tows upon her bes t-pay ing cus tomers . "I recogniz e
y our ty pe of woman, Mis s Cummings , becaus e I was like y ou my s elf, wounded and full of pain. I
do not know ev ery thing y our hus band did to y ou--I s us pect it was more than mere
unfaithfulnes s --but of one thing I am certain. You hav e nev er known real pleas ure with a man.
W hen y ou do, y ou will fall into lov e with that man. Therefore, choos e y our partner carefully . Do
not allow y our heart to be broken; once broken, it may nev er mend."
"My heart has already been broken. I don' t plan to giv e any man the chance to do it again. And in
cas e y ou hav en' t noticed, not ev ery thing in this world depends on s ex ."
"On s ex , no," Madam Ros e s aid, her blue Viking ey es oddly s oft. "But on true lov e, ev ery thing
depends . Guard y our heart well then, Mis s Cummings . And beware of Mr. Jack Martin."

Chapter Four
"If y ou refus e to return to y our own home," Jack Martin s aid to Claris s a, "and y ou hav e no wis h to
join Madam Ros e' s girls , then y ou hav e no choice but to go with me."
"I don' t think that is s uch a good idea," Sam s aid. "It would ruin her reputation, and y our own.
Jack."
"Be quiet, Sam." Jack Martin s poke through his teeth without looking at his friend.
"It does n' t matter what y ou think, Sam," Claris s a told that worthy pers onage, "becaus e I am not
going any where with any one."
"Jus t what do y ou intend to do?" Jack Martin demanded.
Claris s a wis hed he were not s o impos ing a man. From his almos t dry , tied-back hair to his
s till-damp poet' s s hirt to his long, s traight legs and his booted feet, he pres ented a romantic
figure des igned to thrill any woman. W ere Claris s a
not s o dis gus ted with men, s he might hav e been more appreciativ e of his phy s ical as s ets . W ere
s he not s o tired and confus ed, s he certainly would hav e coped better with his chauv inis tic
ins is tence that he knew what was right for her.
"Since y ou claim to hav e no relativ es , and s ince I am the one who pulled y ou out of the canal,"
Jack Martin s aid to her, "I am res pons ible for y our welfare. I hav e nev er y et failed in my duty to
family or to friend."
"I am neither a relativ e nor a friend of y ours ," Claris s a s napped. "I am perfectly capable of taking
care of my s elf."
"Do y ou really think s o?" Her hands ome tormentor gav e her a daz z ling s mile that rev ealed a s et
of perfect teeth, but there was no humor in his gray ey es . "W here will y ou s leep tonight? How will
y ou find food?"
"I' ll take a room in a motel," s he s aid. "I' ll rent a car. Then I' ll v is it the mall to buy dinner and
s ome modern clothes . People will s tare at me if I walk around in this old-fas hioned dres s ."
"Madam, y ou s ound like a madwoman. You are making no s ens e at all," Jack Martin s aid,
frowning. "To begin with the mos t triv ial of y our s tatements , y our dres s will not be cons idered
much out of s ty le in this part of the world. In London, y es . It might rais e s ome uncharitable
comment there among members of the ton, but not here in America."
"Oh, thank y ou v ery much," Claris s a retorted. "I s uppos e mos t of y ou Brits of the ton s till refer to
this country as the Colonies !"

"Thes e United States hav e not been Britis h colonies for more than half a century ," he replied.
"For half a century ?" Claris s a repeated, try ing to ignore the growing chill of fear at her heart. She
refus ed to believ e the implications of ev ery thing that had happened and all that had been s aid
s ince s he had firs t regained cons cious nes s . It was eas ier to quarrel with the man s tanding before
her than to accept the mounting ev idence of her own ey es and ears . "Are y ou craz y ?" s he
demanded of him.
"I wonder if y ou are the one who is craz ed," he res ponded. "Tell me, Mis s Cummings . As s uming
that y ou are able to reach the road that runs between Philadelphia and Baltimore, which is the
only place where y ou might find a s uitable inn, and as s uming that y ou do locate s uch a roads ide
inn--both of which are highly unlikely achiev ements for a woman alone and on foot-how do y ou
then plan to obtain a room if y ou hav e no money ?" That obv ious ques tion brought Claris s a up
s hort, prev enting her from giv ing him another s harp ans wer.
"You are right," s he admitted. "My credit cards are at the bottom of the canal, along with my car
and my purs e."
"There is no cart at the bottom of the canal," he s aid. "If there were, I would know about it.
Furthermore, if y ou ev er pos s es s ed a letter of credit, y ou s hould hav e depos ited it at once into a
bank in W ilmington, which is the neares t s ettlement able to prov ide s uch a s erv ice. Did y ou
hav e a letter of credit, Mis s Cummings ?"
"Don' t be s illy ," s he s aid, her v oice s uddenly trembling. "I know what y ou' re talking about, and
no one us es thos e old-fas hioned things any more. Credit cards are much more conv enient."
"Are they indeed?" His glance was fros ty . "You hav e no ready money . From what y ou s ay , y ou
als o hav e no family , no friends , no letter of credit, and no means of prov ing y ou are who y ou
claim to be. You came to Bohemia Village wearing only a chemis e and a pair of badly torn
s tockings . W hat do y ou ex pect us to think of y ou, Mis s Cummings ?"
"You don' t unders tand."
"No, I do not. It is incomprehens ible to me why y ou would refus e an hones t offer of hos pitality
when y ou s o obv ious ly hav e no other options . I giv e y ou my word of honor that y ou will come to
no harm while y ou are in my care, madam."
" W ord of honor?" Claris s a gav e v ent to a cy nical laugh. "Boy , is that line out of date!"
"Do y ou dare to impugn my honor?" His v oice and his ey es were s o cold, his anger s o ev ident
that Claris s a took two s teps backward.
"I s till don' t like it." Sam' s meas ured tones eas ed the s trained s ilence s pinning out between
Claris s a and Jack Martin. "But when y ou put it in jus t that way , Jack me boy , and cons iderin' the
lack of av ailable accommodations in this area for a res pectable y oung woman, I can s ee y e do
hav e a point. Mis s Cummings , I' m thinkin' y e ought to go wi' him. If he s ay s y e' ll come to

no harm, y e can be s ure y e' ll be s afe wi' him."
"I don' t like or trus t men," Claris s a began.
"So y ou hav e s tated repeatedly , ev er s ince a group of men s av ed y our life," Jack Martin s aid. "I,
for one, am growing weary of y our cons tant protes tations . For the las t time, madam, will y ou
accept my offer? If y ou s ay no, I warn y ou I s hall leav e y ou here to fend for y ours elf." W ith that,
he s talked out of Madam Ros e' s hous e.
"Go with him," Sam urged.
"I thought y ou didn' t like the idea," Claris s a s aid to him.
"I didn' t. I s till don' t. But he has the right of it. There is no other choice. Ye don' t want to hav e to
s leep beneath a tree, where y e' ll be av ailable to hungry mos quitoes and wanderin s nakes , and
the occas ional canal worker who' s lookin' for a bit of ex citement, do y e?"
"No, I don' t want that." Claris s a s huddered.
"Then tell him y e' ll go wi' him."
"Sam, y our accent keeps s lipping," s he told him, once more us ing irrelev ance to av oid thinking
about ov erwhelming, terrify ing facts .
"Ay e, las s ie, I know it," Sam s aid. "' Tis a s ad s ituation when a man cannot remember whether
he' s Iris h or Scottis h."
"If y ou are try ing to make me laugh and feel better, y ou aren' t s ucceeding." W hile s he might find
Jack Martin difficult to deal with, Sam MacKenz ie was another matter. In his kindnes s and his
hones t concern for her welfare he reminded her of certain of her male relativ es . In her childhood
s he had been bles s ed with a
father, two grandfathers , as s orted uncles and male cous ins --all of whom had been good and
decent men. It was n' t right for her to blame ev ery member of the male s ex for what Rich had done
to her. Sam MacKenz ie was try ing to help her in the s ame way that one of her uncles would hav e
done. For all s he knew, Jack Martin might hones tly be try ing to help her, too. Claris s a let out a
long breath. "All right, Sam, y ou can s top worry ing about me. Ill go with Mr. Martin."
She found him s tanding bes ide an open cart s uperv is ing the loading of s ev eral wooden crates in
addition to the bandbox containing her new wardrobe. From s omewhere he had acquired a
low-crowned s traw hat to replace the one los t in the canal.
If they were going to driv e for any dis tance, he was going to need that hat. The s un was s o bright
that Claris s a was grateful for Madam Ros e' s ins is tence that s he wear the s traw s un-bonnet. She
did not much like the y ellow and blue flowers that decorated it, nor the green s atin ribbons that
were tied into a big bow beneath her chin, but the wide, s cooped brim did s hade her ey es . She
wis hed for s unglas s es , but s omething warned her not to as k for them. Ev ery one in Bohemia
Village s eemed to be s o determined to keep up the Early American theme that s he jus t knew they
wouldn' t hav e any thing as modern as s unglas s es , not ev en in the s ouv enir s hop. That thought
reminded her of an interes ting fact.

"I hav en' t s een any touris ts ," s he s aid, hoping Jack Martin would dis pel all her rapidly growing
fears by telling her that Bohemia Village was clos ed to v is itors on whatev er day of the week this
was .
"I beg y our pardon?" He looked at her as if s he were a complete idiot.
"Vis itors ," s he trans lated for him. "Ex cept for workmen and Madam Ros e' s girls , the v illage is
des erted."
"The v is itors will arriv e on the day the canal officially opens ," he s aid. "May I as s ume from y our
pres ence at my s ide that y ou hav e decided to accept my inv itation?"
"Jus t until I figure out what the hell--I mean, until I unders tand what has happened," s he
ans wered him.
"You do s eem to be a bit confus ed. Perhaps I can be of s ome as s is tance to y ou in clearing y our
thoughts ," he offered.
"That would be v ery kind of y ou, Mr. Martin." Thinking that Madam Ros e would approv e of her
refined language, Claris s a repres s ed a giggle and let him help her up onto the s eat of the cart.
He then leapt up bes ide her. The cart was made of wood, the s ingle board s eat had a matching
board back, and the whole contriv ance was pulled by a s turdy -looking farm hors e.
"Hold on," Jack Martin s aid and flicked the reins ov er the hors e' s back. The cart lurched forward,
the motion rocking the cargo in the rear and nearly bouncing Claris s a off the s eat. W hen s he
y elped in s urpris e, her companion
s lanted a glance in her direction. "I told y ou to hold on."
"Do y ou alway s trav el in this thing?" Claris s a dis cov ered that, not only did s he hav e to hold on to
the s eat, s he als o had to hang on to her bonnet to keep it from falling off the back of her head and
s trangling her with green s atin ribbons .
"I deeply regret that I cannot prov ide y ou with a well-s prung coach," her companion res ponded.
"No doubt y ou are more accus tomed to s uch conv ey ances than to farm carts ."
"As a matter of fact," s he rev ealed, "my own car could us e new s hock abs orbers ."
Jack Martin did not ans wer her. Setting the hors e to a s teady trot he drov e along the s ingle, rutted
baked-mud road of Bohemia Village, calling out greetings to the carpenters and other workmen
whom they pas s ed. Leav ing the v illage behind, he kept to what looked like a cattle path through a
dens e green wildernes s . Claris s a could tell it was s uppos ed to be a road becaus e the trees and
underbrus h had been cleared away on either s ide, but there was no other traffic to be s een.
" W here ex actly are we going?" s he as ked with as much dignity as s he could mus ter while being
jolted and bounced on the hard wooden s eat.
"To my farm."
"I know that. W here is it? W hat is it like?" Did the man nev er offer information freely ? Claris s a
s tudied him. He did not look like a farmer to her. It was true that his hands bore callus es from

hard work, but there was s omething about Jack Martin that made her think of elegant drawing
rooms and ladies in s atin and lace gowns with fans in their hands . She wondered what his real
name was . No man who looked the way he did could pos s ibly bear the pedes trian name of Jack
Martin. Claris s a was certain that, if s he as ked him, he would only ev ade her ques tion. She let her
gaz e trav el from his hands to the profile dominated by that long s las h of nos e. Perhaps s ens ing
her interes ted regard, he turned his head to look directly at her. Their ey es held for a moment,
and each s ilently attempted to s earch out the s ecrets of the other. "You are a mos t intriguing
woman, Mis s
Claris s a Jane Cummings ," he s aid s oftly . He s miled, and Claris s a, unable to prev ent hers elf,
s miled back at him. "If y ou know any W els h," he s aid, "y ou will unders tand why I named my
home Afon Farm. In W els h, the word afon means riv er, and my land borders the Elk Riv er."
"Are y ou W els h?" s he as ked.
"My mother was ." His s mile dis appeared and he returned to the original s ubject. "It is good
farmland, and it will be remarkably profitable before much longer. Once the canal opens ,
Bohemia will grow into a larger v illage--s ome would tell y ou it will become a city --and thos e who
liv e there or who pas s through on the canal will gladly buy the produce from Afon
Farm."
"You keep talking about the canal opening," s he s aid. "W hen will that happen?"
"There has been water along the entire route s ince the Fourth of July ," he s aid. "Unhappily , there
is s till a lot of work to be done, mos tly in s horing up the s ides . There are altogether too many
lands lides to allow s hipping to mov e freely as y et. Lands lides or not, howev er, the formal
opening, complete with s peeches , fireworks , and v is iting dignitaries , is s cheduled for
mid-October." "October of what y ear?" Claris s a could s carcely breathe for tens ion. She knew s he
could not continue to deny mounting ev idence jus t becaus e s he did not want that ev idence to be
true. Suddenly , s he was determined to know the truth, no matter how terrify ing it might be. "W hy ,
in October of this y ear," Jack Martin s aid in ans wer to her ques tion.
" W hich is what y ear?"
"Mis s Cummings , are y ou telling me that y ou don' t know what y ear it is ?" A s mile flas hed acros s
his hands ome features , then faded when he s aw her s itting there with her hands clas ped tightly
together in her lap. The s traw bonnet s he wore lifted with the breez e of their forward motion; the
green ribbons blew agains t his s leev e. Claris s a did not mov e to pres s the hat more firmly onto
her head or to catch and control the ribbons . "Pleas e jus t tell me the ex act date of the official
opening of the canal," s he ground out.
"The canal s hould be opened on the s ev enteenth day of October," he s aid, "in the y ear 1829."

"This is actually 1829?" Her v oice was a broken whis per.
"That is s o." He gav e her a hard look. "Hav e y ou los t s ome time, Mis s Cummings ? Hav e y ou
been s erious ly ill? Or hav e y ou s uffered a head injury , s o that there are day s , or perhaps weeks ,
that y ou cannot recall?"
"Thank y ou for not as king if I' m ins ane. I know y ou hav e y our doubts about me, but I am
generally acknowledged to be a competent and reas onably s ens ible pers on." Claris s a took a
long, s haky breath. "Mr. Martin, I am going to trus t y ou, becaus e I hav e to talk to s omeone about
this , and there is n' t any one els e."
"I will keep whatev er confidence y ou care to entrus t to me," he promis ed.
"Something is terribly wrong here, and I don' t know what it is or how it happened. W hen I fell into
the canal, the y ear was 1993," s he s aid and paus ed to obs erv e his reaction. So far as s he could
tell, there was none. He looked briefly at her, then turned his attention to the road ahead. Unable
to read his thoughts , s he went gamely on with her s tory . "You tell me that the y ear is now 1829. I
am, naturally , a bit ups et by the dis crepancy ."
W is hing s he had Madam Ros e' s v ial of s melling s alts , Claris s a s ternly repres s ed a mad des ire
to burs t into wild laughter. But s he knew s he couldn' t afford to los e control now. If s he did, Jack
Martin would s urely decide that s he really was craz y , and s he needed him to believ e her.
"Are y ou quite certain about this ?" he as ked with ev ery appearance of perfect calm.
"Of cours e I' m certain! I know when I was born, and I know what day y es terday was . Ev er s ince
y ou pulled me out of the water, the ev idence has been mounting that I am now in s ome prev ious
time."
" W hat ev idence?" He was remarkably calm.
He' s a true aris tocrat and a leader, Claris s a thought, not entirely irrelev antly . Abs olutely nothing
will ups et or frighten him, or if it does , he will hide his emotions s o no one will ev er gues s what
he' s feeling. He' d be a good pers on to hav e on my s ide in a fight.
"In my time," s he s aid aloud, "the canal is much wider and the locks hav e been eliminated. Back
Creek is jus t an inlet us ed for mooring pleas ure boats . And at Ches apeake City there is a v ery
high bridge ov er the canal. That' s what we call y our Bohemia Village," s he added.
They rode on in s ilence for a while through s un-dappled s hade. Jack Martin guided the hors e with
s killed hands . Claris s a s at watching him, waiting for s ome comment and try ing to control a fear
that could eas ily become hy s teria.
" W ell?" s he prodded, unable to be patient any longer. "Tell me what y ou' re thinking."
"That y ou do not behav e in the way a well-bred y oung woman s hould," he s aid.
"I don' t doubt that in the leas t. In my time, women are much les s res tricted. I can tell y ou," s he
added, grabbing at her bonnet, "that our

clothing is much more comfortable. You would probably find it indecent."
"Hav e y ou no idea by what means y ou came into the pas t?" he as ked her.
"You do hav e a talent for s ticking to the s ubject," s he told him. "W hen I get ups et, I tend to
wander all ov er the place, conv ers ationally s peaking, and I babble. No, I don' t know how I got
here. I jus t went into the water in one century and came up one hundred s ix ty -four y ears in the
pas t. This is s o unbeliev able!" She gulped back the s cream s he wanted to let loos e. She knew
that acting like a craz y woman was n' t going to help the s ituation. She had to try to s tay calm.
" W hen y ou firs t regained cons cious nes s , y ou mentioned ice and s leet," Jack Martin reminded
her.
"It was January . There was an ice s torm. That' s why I couldn' t s top my car and why I went ov er
the edge and into the canal."
"I s ee.
"Do y ou? Mr. Martin, do y ou really believ e me?" It s eemed to Claris s a that her v ery life
depended on his res pons e.
"My ev ery ins tinct tells me that s uch a s tory cannot be true," he s aid. "Yet if y ou are mad, then it
is a remarkably cons is tent form of madnes s . W hile y our behav ior s eems s trange to me,
ev ery thing y ou hav e s aid and done today makes s ens e when v iewed in the light of y our claim to
be from the future. My God! The future!" He broke off, s taring at her.
"Boggles the mind, does n' t it?" It was a s tupid thing to s ay , but Claris s a was too badly s haken to
care. Badly s haken--hell, s he was on the v erge of real hy s terics .
"Indeed it does ," he s aid. Then, after a moment' s thought, he added, "Mis s Cummings , let me
warn y ou of s omething. I hav e a pers onal reas on to be aware of the way in which uns crupulous
men may ex ploit women."
"So hav e I." Claris s a lifted her chin, wondering what was coming nex t. In her heart s he knew that
one major reas on why s he was n' t s creaming or cry ing or banging her fis ts on the cart s eat in
abject terror was becaus e the man bes ide her was taking all of this s o calmly . She clung to his
calmnes s and s elf-control and obv ious common s ens e as though thos e qualities were a lifeline
he had tos s ed to her in the mids t of a raging torrent.
"Then y ou will unders tand the adv ice I giv e y ou now," Jack Martin s aid. "I beg of y ou not to
confide this amaz ing information to any one els e. Mos t people will not believ e y ou. They will think
that y ou are mad and that can only be to y our detriment. Some few will believ e y ou, and of thos e
few, s ome will want to us e y ou. If y ou are truly from the future, then y ou can prov ide v aluable
information about coming ev ents ."
"I hadn' t thought of that. Until now, I' v e been too bus y telling my s elf there mus t be s ome s imple,
rational ex planation for what has happened. I hav en' t s pared a minute to cons ider what it would
mean if what I feared was actually true."

"Cons ider it now," he s aid, "and guard y our s peech and y our actions ."
"Yes , I think y ou are right. Does this mean y ou do believ e me?" She looked at him with a hopeful
gaz e.
"I do not know what to believ e," he told her. She noted his tightly drawn mouth and the s et
ex pres s ion on his face, and s he knew he was not really conv inced.
" W hat s hould I do now?" s he murmured, half to hers elf. "If I don' t know how I got here, then I
probably can' t get back to my own time again, can I?"
He took her rhetorical ques tions as a reques t for more adv ice. "It s eems to me that the only
cours e for y ou is jus t what we hav e already agreed upon," he s aid. "You will s tay at my farm for
a while. No one will annoy y ou, and y ou will hav e freedom in which to decide what y ou want to do
nex t. If y ou wis h, while y ou are there, we can dis cus s y our s ituation further, which ought to help
y ou put y our thoughts into better order. It will als o help me come to s ome conclus ion as to the
truth of y our claim to be from the future. In any cas e, I will not lock y ou up like a madwoman, nor
will I haras s y ou for more details until y ou are ready to div ulge y our entire s tory --for I do believ e
there is more to be s aid on this s ubject than y ou hav e y et rev ealed to me."
"I hav e told y ou ev ery thing I can remember about the accident," s he res ponded. "Thank y ou for
y our generos ity , Mr. Martin."
Forgetting that s he did not want to be told by a man what to do, or that s he did not want to touch
any man ev er again or to hav e any man touch her, s he laid one hand on Jack Martin' s arm. W hen
he cov ered it with his own hand, s he did not pull away .

Chapter Fiv e
They reached Afon Farm in late afternoon, when the lowering s un was s ending s hafts of mellow
golden light through the thick v egetation, s etting trees and bus hes and wildflowers aglow. The
farmhous e s at high on the cres t of a hill, hav ing been deliberately located by the builders in a
s pot where it would catch the cooling breez es from the riv er. On the gently s loping s ides of the
hill all but a few trees had been cut down and the land turned ov er to crops , corn on one s ide of
the road leading to the hous e and wheat on the other. Both were tall and lus h in the mids ummer
heat. In the orchard, peach and apple trees were heav ily laden with ripening fruit. A rough-cut
meadow s urrounded the hous e its elf.
The hous e was white, built s quare and low with a v eranda acros s the front s upported by wooden
columns . A row of bright y ellow marigolds bordered the v eranda, enliv ened by a clump of
orange tiger lilies at one corner, the lilies jus t beginning to burs t into bloom.
They did not s top at the front of the hous e as Claris s a ex pected, but drov e ins tead around the
s ide to a large barn, its walls neatly whitewas hed like the hous e. In a paddock nex t to the barn,
s ev eral hors es rais ed their heads at the s ound of cart wheels on the grav el driv e. Jus t as the cart
pulled to a s top, a middle-aged black man emerged from the barn.
"Good thing y ou' re back on time, Mis ter Jack," the man s aid, grinning. "Sarah' s jus t about got
y our s upper ready , and s he don' t like keepin' food too long pas t the correct moment to s erv e it,
as y ou and I both hav e caus e to know."
"Sarah can s top worry ing. I hav e brought both my appetite and a gues t." Jack Martin helped
Claris s a out of the cart. "Mis s Cummings , this is Mos es , who is s table mas ter, field hand when
needed, and all-around helper at all times ."
"Hello, Mos es ." Claris s a could tell by the way he looked at her that Mos es was wondering in
what capacity s he would act while at Afon Farm. Her hos t made no ex planation, but launched
ins tead into a s eries of ins tructions .
"Mos es , y ou had better call Luke to help us unload thos e crates . I want to do it at once, before I
eat. W e can put ev ery thing into the barn and open the box es tomorrow. I will take Mis s
Cummings ' s baggage my s elf."
"I' ll s ee to the hors e before I get Luke." Mos es picked up the reins and led the cart through the
large barn door.

W ith Claris s a' s bandbox in one hand, Jack Martin took her by the elbow with his other hand,
guiding her toward the back of the hous e, which was s haded by a v eranda identical to the one
acros s the front, ex cept that here there was no row of flowers . Ins tead, a clus ter of morning glory
v ines twined up two white columns and moonflower v ines up the remaining two. From the edge of
the v eranda outward a brick courty ard had been laid as a way to keep mud and dus t out of the
hous e, for the kitchen was s eparate from the main building and there was a great deal of traffic
through the rear doorway . The brick kitchen building s at at the far corner of the courty ard, reached
by a cov ered walkway . Bey ond the kitchen was the kitchen garden, enclos ed by a low brick wall.
Farther down the hill, clos e to the trees that formed a natural boundary between the cleared land
and the riv er, s tood two white cottages .
Claris s a wanted to s ee more, but her hos t hurried her into the main hous e. This building
cons is ted of four rooms , two on each s ide of a wide center hall.
"It will be eas y enough for y ou to find y our way around," Jack Martin told Claris s a. "Here on y our
right at the back of the hous e is the dining room. Jus t in front of it is the parlor. Acros s the hall are
two bedrooms . Mine is at the back. You will hav e the gues t room at the front."
"I' v e s een old hous es like this one," Claris s a s aid. "They hav e s o many doors and windows that
it' s difficult to furnis h them."
"The doors and windows are to let the breez es circulate." He s tood back to allow her to pas s into
the gues t room.
It was s imply furnis hed. A low rope bed on a wooden frame was cov ered with a thin mattres s and
a colorful quilt. A blanket ches t s tained in bright s wirls of green, red, and brown s tood agains t one
wall. Nex t to the ches t a was hs tand had been placed, with a bas in and pitcher on the top s helf. A
s mall beds ide table held a china candles tick in a blue-and-white pattern to match the bas in and
pitcher. Beneath the bed Claris s a s aw a chamber pot in the s ame blue and white. There were
three windows , each with plain white curtains . There was als o a door connecting the room directly
to the bedroom us ed by the mas ter of the hous e. To Claris s a' s relief, it was clos ed.
"You s hould be comfortable here," Jack Martin s aid, s etting down her bandbox . "If y ou need
any thing, as k Sarah where it is . She will be glad to help y ou, though I am afraid at the moment
s he is bus y preparing our ev ening meal."
"I can manage by my s elf," s he as s ured him. "Can I get s ome water? The ride was dus ty and I
would like to was h up before eating."
"The pump is at the s ide of the courty ard, jus t nex t to the kitchen. The priv y is in the field down
the hill and well bey ond the kitchen. There is an enclos ed outs ide bath s tall built agains t one
kitchen wall. You can get warm water in the kitchen, but y ou will hav e to carry it y ours elf. Sarah is
too bus y to act as lady ' s maid."

"I told y ou I can manage on my own."
"Good. W e are completely informal here. Make y ours elf at home, Mis s Cummings ."
Claris s a clos ed the bedroom door after him. She untied the ribbons and remov ed her bonnet,
then s tood paraly z ed by the churning emotions s he had v aliantly kept under control s ince
regaining cons cious nes s bes ide the canal. Fear, confus ion, horror, and a deep wearines s all
combined to keep her from thinking clearly . She s tay ed as s he was for a long time, her hands
clutching the ridiculous bonnet. She was unable to mov e, unable ev en to weep.
Then the quiet of the hous e began to s eep into her perceptions . She could hear birds calling to
each other outs ide the windows and men' s v oices in the dis tance briefly rais ed in laughter, but
the hous e its elf was empty and quiet. There was a profound peacefulnes s in the abs ence of
nois e. So much of her life had been s pent agains t a background of s ound, of piped-in mus ic, of
the nois e of her aged automobile or the hum of other machinery , and the inces s ant chatter of
radio or telev is ion. The lack of artificial s ound was remarkably s oothing. A knot deep ins ide her, a
tightnes s of which s he had s carcely been aware, s lowly began to loos en, and with its
unclenching, her ability to function as a thinking human being returned.
"All right," s he s aid to hers elf at las t, s peaking in a whis per s o as not to dis turb the lov ely quiet.
"I hav e to s tay here until I figure things out, and I can' t s ay any thing about being from the future
to any one but Jack Martin. That means I will hav e to act as if I belong in this time. Therefore, if I
want to clean my face and hands before eating, I will march right out to the pump and fill that old
pitcher with water as if I know what I' m doing. I wonder if it' s s afe to drink the s tuff? No, I' m not
going to worry about it." She lifted the pitcher, which was s urpris ingly heav y , and hurried down
the hall and out the back door.
The pump was eas y to find. Getting water out of it was n' t s o eas y . Claris s a had nev er us ed a
pump before. Hoping to av oid wetting her long s kirt and s oft, ballet-ty pe s lippers , s he bent ov er
from the wais t, holding the pitcher under the s pout with one hand, while with the other hand s he
tried to lift the pump handle.
"Put the pitcher on the ground and us e both hands on the handle," a familiar male v oice s aid
behind her. Claris s a looked around to dis cov er her hos t, s tripped to the wais t, a towel in one
hand. His feet were bare and he was wearing a clean pair of tan breeches that fit him like a
s econd s kin from his wais t to the curv e of his calv es . His hair was damp. He was obv ious ly fres h
from us ing that bath s tall he had mentioned.
"Like this , Mis s Cummings ." Slinging the towel ov er his s houlder, he took the pitcher from
Claris s a' s unres is ting fingers and s et it down under the s pout.
"I jus t us ed it, s o it is primed. Now, pump," he ordered, s tepping back a pace. "You mus t learn to
do it on y our own."

For a moment Claris s a could do nothing but s tare at him. He was magnificent, hard mus cled and
s leek, like a finely bred s tallion. On that thought s he s wallowed hard and reached for the pump
handle.
"Pump s moothly and s teadily ," he ins tructed. "Up and down. Up and down. Keep on. It is eas y
once y ou find the rhy thm."
Claris s a had already caught the motion and s he ferv ently wis hed he would go away . His
powerful, half-naked body , the s teady pumping motion, the hy pnotic s ound of his low v oice, and
his repetitious words were all cons piring to threaten her s haky s elf-control. Between s trokes of
the pump handle s he glanced at his face. She s aw laughter in his ey es , and far wors e, s he
thought s he detected mas culine erotic interes t.
"Up and down," he s aid. "Up and down again."
"I unders tand!" s he cried. "I can do it."
"Of cours e y ou can. Jus t don' t giv e up. Now up and down again."
"Stop s ay ing that!"
"Here it comes ." His v oice became almos t a cares s as water s purted from the pump s pout, then
began to emerge in a s teady s tream. "It alway s comes . After a certain number of s trokes , it is
inev itable."
"I' m s ure it is !" She gav e the handle one las t downward pus h and watched water running ov er the
edge of the pitcher.
"There y ou are," he s aid in the s ame cares s ing v oice. "You learn quickly , Mis s Cummings ."
She fancied s he could s till s ee that dangerous glint in his ey es . Claris s a ran her tongue acros s
dry lips and made hers elf look away from him.
"Thank y ou for y our help." Seiz ing the handle of the pitcher, s he attempted to lift it. The full
pitcher, heav y when empty , was too much for her to carry in one hand. Releas ing the s kirt s he
had jus t lifted out of the dampnes s , Claris s a bent down, us ing both hands to pick up the
ov erflowing pitcher.
"If y ou try to hold it out in front of y ou like that, it will only s eem heav ier," s aid Jack Martin, s till
watching her.
"If I hold it agains t my body , my dres s will get wet," s he pointed out. "My hem is already wet, my
s hoes are s oaked, and I am hot and tired." She s topped, realiz ing that s he was beginning to
s ound like a s poiled child. "Sorry ," s he s aid. "I didn' t mean to s cold."
"Jus t this once, I will help y ou." He took the pitcher from her and led the way to the gues t
bedroom. There he poured water into the bas in. "I trus t y ou will find the pitcher a little les s
unwieldy now that s ome of the water is gone."
"Thank y ou." Her v oice was s mall and filled with the embarras s ment s he felt. His bare arm
brus hed agains t her as he turned toward the door. Some laughing dev il dwelling deep ins ide her
mind made her look full at him while his head was turned for a s econd, and s he noted the bulge
at his groin. He s aw. She knew he had s een and noted her quick downward glance.

"Hurry and was h," he s aid. "You don' t want to keep Sarah waiting when the meal is ready to
s erv e."
Claris s a barely res is ted the impuls e to lift the pitcher in both hands and hurl it at him in
retribution for the faint, knowing s mile that lifted the corners of his mouth. She wondered how
nineteenth-century ladies ev er kept their tempers if all the men were like this one. Surpris ingly ,
s he kept her own temper under control.
"I will be as quick as I can," s he told him s weetly .
"No more than half an hour," he s aid, his face impas s iv e once more.
After he was gone, Claris s a began to wonder if s he had only imagined the emotional content of
the s cene at the pump. Very likely s he was s eeing s ex ual interes t where none ex is ted. Jack
Martin was only being kind and try ing to help her adjus t to a difficult s ituation. After all, her own
hus band had not been es pecially interes ted in s ex with her, not after the firs t few months of
marriage, and s he had nev er been bothered by the kind of propos itions that other women claimed
to hav e receiv ed. A y ear or s o after her marriage, Claris s a had finally come to the conclus ion that
s he was a s ex ually uninteres ting pers on. Thus , though the act of infidelity had been her
hus band' s , s he was all too ready to as s ume a large s hare of blame for the failure of her
marriage. If s he had been more interes ting, more womanly , perhaps Rich wouldn' t hav e looked
els ewhere.
Should hav e s een--s hould hav e done--failure-- failure....
The words tumbled ov er and ov er in her mind each time s he thought about Rich and the s cene in
their bedroom upon which s he had s tumbled. The rhy thm of pumping, the s purting of the water,
and abov e all, the cares s ing tone of Jack Martin' s v oice had brought that s hameful s cene back to
her, and with it, a crus hing s ens e of guilt.
It was not Jack Martin' s fault. He knew nothing about Rich. He didn' t ev en know that Claris s a
was --had been--married. In this time, only Madam Ros e knew, and Claris s a did not think s he
would tell any one. Men were Madam Ros e' s bus ines s , s o s he would be an ex pert in keeping
s ecrets from them. In any cas e, Madam Ros e did not know all the details .
In this time. W ith a s ens e of relief Claris s a s plas hed cold water on her face and then looked up
into the mirror on the wall behind the was h-s tand. In this time her marital problems didn' t ex is t.
She was n' t ev en married, for how could there be a marriage with a man who would not be born for
another one, 134 y ears ?
"It' s gone," s he s aid, s miling at her reflection. "W iped out. It has n' t happened. As long as I s tay
in this time, I' m free of all that pain and I don' t hav e to feel guilty any more."
Refus ing to lis ten to the quiet inner v oice that told her the s cars on her heart would not heal
eas ily , s he was hed her hands , tidied her hair, and went to dinner with Jack Martin.

Sarah was a hands ome black woman in a dark blue calico dres s and a s potles s white apron. An
orange-and-y ellow printed s carf, twis ted into an intricate pattern of folds , completely cov ered her
hair. She arriv ed at the dining room door a minute or two after Claris s a had entered the room.
"Oh, my God--er, my goodnes s ." Claris s a s tared at the tray Sarah was carry ing and then at the
s econd tray borne by a s lim teenager, who, from his res emblance to Sarah, was obv ious ly her
s on. Claris s a looked from the food to her hos t. "Are the two of us ex pected to eat all of that?" s he
as ked.
"Once y ou tas te Sarah' s cooking, y ou won' t be able to res train y ours elf," Jack Martin res ponded.
"I found a true jewel on the day I dis cov ered Sarah."
This compliment was greeted by a throaty chuckle from the woman in ques tion. Sarah finis hed
unloading her tray onto a polis hed mahogany s ideboard that almos t matched the color of Jack
Martin' s hair.
"Some men think of their s tomachs before any thing els e," Sarah s aid.
"Gluttony is my bes etting s in and y ou, Sarah, are my primary temptres s ." Jack Martin bent ov er a
roas ted chicken, s niffing appreciativ ely .
"Shame on y ou, Mis ter Jack. Sin is s erious ." But Sarah' s chuckle ros e again.
"Sarah, Luke, this is Mis s Claris s a Cummings , who will be s tay ing with us for a while," Jack
Martin s aid. "She is unfamiliar with farm life, s o s he may hav e ques tions for y ou about the way in
which things are done here."
" W e' ll help y ou all we can, ma' am." Sarah gav e Claris s a a long look, then nodded her head as if
s he approv ed of what s he s aw.
"Mama?" Luke was s till holding his tray of food.
"Put that pie down at the end of the s ideboard," Sarah ins tructed him. "Mis ter Jack, I' ll bring the
hot water for y our tea in a s hort while s o it won' t be too cool when y ou' re ready for it."
"Thank y ou, Sarah. Enjoy y our own dinner." At Jack Martin' s nod, Sarah and Luke departed.
"Mis s Cummings , will y ou s it?" Claris s a looked around to dis cov er her hos t holding a chair and
looking at her ex pectantly . There was a place s et at the head of the bare, gleaming table, where
an armchair awaited the mas ter of the hous e. On the mas ter' s right the place of honor had been
s et for a gues t, and it was there that Jack Martin s tood, the back of a s maller, armles s chair in his
hands .
Claris s a recalled Sunday dinners at her grandparents ' hous e when s he had been a girl, ev ents at
which all the men and boy s were ex pected to hold chairs for the ladies pres ent--and one
particular cous in who us ed to pus h Claris s a' s chair in s o far that s he was crus hed agains t the
edge of the table. No gentleman had held a chair for her s ince s he was 11 y ears old. She s lipped
into the chair Jack Martin was holding. Unlike her mis chiev ous cous in, he did not pus h it in too
far.

"Do y ou prefer the leg meat or the breas t?" he as ked. Claris s a was gaping at the fine china and
elegant s ilv erware, s o s he did not ans wer him at once. "Mis s Cummings ?"
"Oh, the white meat pleas e, but I can get it my s elf." She made as if to ris e again, but his hand on
her s houlder s topped her.
She wanted to protes t that s he liked the outs ide pieces of breas t meat bes t and that s he wanted
the lus cious -looking grav y ladled ov er the dres s ing, not the meat, but with a s ens e of abandon
s he leaned back in her chair and let him arrange her dinner plate for her. W hile he was at the
s ideboard s he recalled another of her grandmother' s rules . She took her elbows off the table,
s traightened her s pine, and adjus ted her s houlders s o s he was no longer lounging.
"Here y ou are." The plate s et before her contained three narrow s lices of ros emary -s cented
chicken breas t taken from the outs ide, a s coop of cornbread dres s ing, a s mall pile of
s affron-colored rice, and green beans with bits of bacon s cattered ov er them. The grav y had been
dribbled ov er the dres s ing and the rice, but not on the meat. Jack Martin' s plate was heaped a
good deal higher than Claris s a' s and before the meal was ov er he had emptied it and filled it
again and eaten all of the s econd helping of food.
Cons idering the many s ubjects they might hav e dis cus s ed, their dinner conv ers ation was oddly
impers onal, cons is ting mos tly of delighted
comments on the food and Claris s a' s ques tions about the farm, which her companion ans wered
as briefly as pos s ible.
In addition to the main cours e, there were incredibly light bis cuits with fres h s weet butter,
followed by large s lices of warm peach pie for des s ert.
"Is this a s pecial feas t in my honor?" Claris s a as ked.
"Sarah likes to cook," Jack Martin replied.
"It' s wonderful. I hav en' t eaten this well in y ears ."
"You hav e another enthus ias tic admirer, Sarah."
Claris s a had not heard her come into the room. Sarah s et a china teapot down on the s ideboard
before res ponding. "It' s jus t fres h food, s imply prepared," s he s aid.
"That' s why it' s s o good," Claris s a told her. "Some people think fancy s auces can dis guis e
inferior food, but there is no s ubs titute for fres h ingredients . At leas t, that' s what my grandmother
us ed to s ay . I can' t tell y ou how many dreadful meals I' v e eaten that were s uppos ed to be
gourmet delights ."
"I don' t know what that means , Miz Cummings , but y our grandmother s ure was right about us in'
fres h food."
W hen Sarah left them alone again, Jack Martin ros e from the table to open a door in the
s ideboard and bring out a wooden tea ches t lined with metal. He s pooned leav es into the teapot,

gav e the brew a s tir, then replaced the little ches t in the s ideboard.
" W hen I firs t came here, I dis cov ered that a family of field mice had mov ed indoors ," he s aid,
hav ing noticed her ques tioning look. "They were connois s eurs . They ate mos t of my firs t packet
of tea before I could ev ict them. I decided a metal-lined ches t would keep out both mice and the
s ummer dampnes s . I forgot to as k if y ou want cream or s ugar for y ours . Do y ou like tea?" He
placed a s ilv er tray containing the pot and two dainty china cups in front of Claris s a.
"I like it. I drink it plain, too." He obv ious ly ex pected her to pour the tea for them. Feeling v ery
much the grand lady , Claris s a did s o.
"Madam Ros e s aid I am too thin, but if I eat like this at ev ery meal, I s oon will need a cors et after
all," Claris s a noted. "Oh, dear. Somehow, I am abs olutely certain that real ladies of this time do
not mention cors ets at the dinner table."
"They do not," he s aid, but s he could tell he was try ing not to s mile. "Upon whatev er s ubject y ou
choos e to dis cours e, Mis s Cummings , allow me to tell y ou that I find y our company mos t
pleas ant. Des pite Sarah' s fine cooking, I do not entirely enjoy my s olitary ev ening meals ."
"Then y ou liv e here alone?" Claris s a dis cov ered that s he was unaccountably pleas ed by this
idea.
"Yes , ex cept for my employ ees and the occas ional gues t. Do y ou care for Madeira?" he as ked
when the tea was finis hed.
"I don' t ev en know what it is ," s he admitted.
"Then y ou mus t learn. Ev en the mos t delicate elderly ladies hav e been known to s ip a glas s on
occas ion." He poured the s traw-colored wine from a cry s tal decanter into two s temmed glas s es
that looked awfully s mall to Claris s a. "Shall we enjoy it on the v eranda?"
Again he held her chair for her. Then, with the wineglas s es in hand, he led the way along the
center hall to the front of the hous e.
"How quiet it is ." Accepting the wine from him, Claris s a took a s mall s ip. "Oh, that tas tes nice."
She s tepped off the v eranda onto the grav el path. There was s till a faint glow low in the wes tern
s ky , but ov erhead the s tars were beginning to s hine, and the s ounds of a s ummer night gently
charmed her ears . Ins ects chirruped, frogs peeped down by the riv er, and tree leav es rus tled in a
pas s ing breez e.
"No boom box es blas ting away ," s he murmured, taking another lady like s ip of wine. "No fire
s irens or train whis tles . Jus t peace. It' s s o res tful here. If I s tay at Afon Farm for v ery long, I will
learn to lov e it."
"Mis s Cummings ," he began.
"No." She s topped him. "You will probably tell me it' s highly improper, but y ou cannot go on
calling me Mis s Cummings . Nor do I intend to call y ou Mr. Martin."
"I hav e known ladies married for y ears who s till called their hus bands mis ter," he s aid, mov ing
to s tand jus t a little too clos e to her. "W hat do y ou propos e to call me?"

"I would like to us e y our real name." Claris s a s tepped off the grav el and onto the rough gras s ,
mov ing away from him.
"Jack will do nicely then." He joined her on the gras s .
" W e both know Jack Martin is not y our real name." She felt him go abs olutely s till bes ide her. A
long moment of charged s ilence grew between them.
" W hat do y ou mean by that?" His v oice was quiet and ev en, but Claris s a was n' t fooled. She had
made a gues s about his name and s he knew s he had s truck a nerv e.
"You don' t look like a Jack. Jack is a plumber, a mechanic, a man who works with his hands ."
Certainly not a man who ate off fine china and s ilv er and who s erv ed Madeira wine at the end of a
meal. Such a man ought to hav e a long and elegant-s ounding name.
"I am thos e s imple things ," he s aid. "In addition, I am a farmer, a contractor of s upplies to the
canal project, a hunter, a carpenter, and a phy s ician to the hors es and cows when neces s ary . In
s hort, a jack-of-all-trades . Therefore, I am in truth Jack."
"You aren' t going to tell me, are y ou?"
"I am Jack Martin."
So s ure was s he that his name was not Jack Martin that s he almos t called him a liar, until s he
remembered the blaz ing anger he had dis play ed in Madam Ros e' s hous e when s he had dared to
ques tion his word of honor. She looked up at his s tark profile agains t the wes tern s ky and
knew ins tinctiv ely that he would nev er break down under feminine ques tioning. He was too
elus iv ely my s terious to giv e up his s ecrets until he was ready to do s o.
"Hav e it y our way ," s he s aid. "I' ll call y ou Jack. You may call me Claris s a. I giv e y ou permis s ion,
s ir." She tried to s ound lighthearted.
"I find Claris s a much too formal for s o informal and unus ual a lady ." Unmis takable humor
warmed his v oice. "I s hall call y ou Clary ."
"Clary ." She tes ted the s ound of it, s wallowed a little more wine, and s aid it again. "Clary . Yes , I
like it."
"It s uits y ou," he s aid. "Soft and light and quick. And not at all formal."
"You mean, not well behav ed."
"Say , rather, unaccus tomed to our way s . That will change if y ou remain here long. You are too
clev er not to adapt y ours elf quickly ."
"No one has ev er called me clev er before." She finis hed her Madeira. "As for s tay ing here, on a
night like this , remaining in the pas t does n' t s eem s o terrible. I jus t wis h I knew whether I can
s tay here or what will happen if I hav e to go back." She fell s ilent when he laid a hand on her
s houlder.
"Hav e y ou cons idered the pos s ibility that in the other time, in the future, y ou may be dead? If, as
y ou claim, y our cart fell into the canal, y ou may hav e died in that accident."
"Not cart. Car," s he s aid, not wanting to think about his s ugges tion. "It was a car with an internal
combus tion engine. Don' t as k me to ex plain

it to y ou, becaus e I don' t know how it works . There are a lot of things in the twentieth century that
I don' t unders tand."
"Clary ."
"I can' t be dead." Her v oice ros e on a frightened note. "I' m here. I' m breathing and talking and
y ou can feel my s houlder beneath y our hand."
"Yes ," he murmured, his hand s liding around to the back of her neck. "You are here, and y ou do
appear to be s olid. Perhaps I ought to perform an ex periment to make abs olutely certain of y our
apparent pres ence." Before Claris s a could pull away , his lips brus hed lightly acros s hers .
"No," s he whimpered.
"Yes ," he whis pered. "Now, once more, jus t to be s ure."
This s econd kis s was not a tes t. It was the real thing. Her hand with the wineglas s s till in it was
crus hed between them, but that didn' t s top him. He held her head s o s he could not pull away
while his mouth worked a long, s low magic on hers . Claris s a was s o amaz ed by her own
welcoming reaction to him that s he did not try to s top what was happening until his tongue s lid
along the edge of her lower lip. Only then did s he begin to fight him. He releas ed her at once.
"How dare y ou?" s he cried. "I do not want to be kis s ed or handled in any way at all by any man."
"Now y ou begin to s ound like a woman of my time," he s aid. "W hat a pity ."
"Here. Take y our damned wineglas s !" She thrus t it at him. "Don' t try to ply me with liquor a
s econd time, becaus e I won' t fall for it again."
"Ply y ou with liquor?" He was laughing at her. "' Twas but a s ingle, v ery s mall glas s of wine. A
baby could drink it and feel no ill effect."
"Jus t keep y our hands off me!" She was s haking s o hard that s he was afraid s he would fall to the
ground, thus giv ing him an ex cus e to touch her again. She was horrified to realiz e that s he
wanted him to touch her. But s he couldn' t trus t-- not ev er again, not after what Rich had done, not
after what s he had s een.
"At leas t we both know now that y ou are truly aliv e," Jack s aid. "Clary , if I offended y ou, I
apologiz e. I thought y ou were willing to be kis s ed."
" W ell, I am not willing!"
"I did not force y ou, Clary . I s topped the moment y ou res is ted. Your reaction to what happened is
greatly ex aggerated." He paus ed, as if cons idering. Then, he as ked, "W hy is that? Did s omeone
hurt y ou once? Or more than once? Is that why y ou are afraid of men? Or is it jus t me y ou find
repuls iv e?"
"Yes . No. It' s none of y our bus ines s . I don' t want to talk about this ."
"It s eems we both hav e s ecrets ," he s aid. "Shall we agree not to ques tion each other too clos ely ?
In that way , we ought to be able to continue a pleas ant as s ociation while y ou are here."

" W hy do y ou want me here any way ?" s he demanded.
"I hav e told y ou why . There is no other s uitable place for y ou to go."
"I don' t believ e that for one minute. There mus t be a town where I could find a room."
"You hav e s een Bohemia Village. There is another town jus t a bit larger at Newbold' s Landing,
which is the eas tern end of the canal, and there are other s ettlements s outh of here. Mos t of the
land in this area is fores t or farmland. I fear y ou hav e no choice but to remain with me, Clary . I
hav e promis ed that no harm will come to y ou, and I will keep my word."
"You s till hav en' t ex plained why y ou want me here."
"How could I fail to be intrigued by a s tory s uch as y ours ? I would like to help y ou unrav el the
my s tery of y our s udden appearance at Bohemia Village."
"Is that really all that interes ts y ou?"
"I do confes s to a certain s y mpathy toward y oung women who find thems elv es alone and
abandoned through no fault of their own. Such women need the protection of a s trong man."
"I don' t!"
"Do y ou not?" W hen s he made no res pons e to his s oftly uttered ques tion, he added, "Go to bed,
Clary . After a day s uch as this one, y ou mus t be ex haus ted, and morning comes early at Afon
Farm."
"I am tired." In fact, s uddenly s he was n' t s ure s he would be able to walk acros s the v eranda
and into her room. She could not remember ev er being s o tired in all her life, and her head was
aching. She mov ed s lowly , heav ily , dragging her feet.
"Good night, Clary ."
She did not ans wer. She felt too drained to s peak. It took all of her remaining energy to clos e her
bedroom door and pull off her dres s and underwear. Someone--mos t likely Sarah-- had emptied
and dried the bas in on the was h-s tand and unpacked her bandbox . The cov ers on the bed were
turned down, and the white cotton nightgown and robe Madam Ros e had giv en her were draped
acros s the s nowy s heets . Claris s a pulled the pins out of her hair, but s he was too tired to brus h
it. She s lipped the nightgown ov er her head. She was as leep before s he fell onto the bed.
She wakened much later to the s ound of a booted foot crunching on the grav el at the front of the
hous e. The s mell of tobacco came to her on the s till night air. She heard a s igh, a footfall on the
front v eranda, a s tep in the hall, and then all was s ilent and s he s lipped back into s leep. She did
not open her ey es again until a roos ter crowed jus t before dawn to s tart the new day .

Chapter Six
"You don' t need to come to the kitchen for breakfas t, Miz Clary ." Sarah looked up from the bis cuit
dough s he was rolling out on the s crubbed pine table. "I' ll gladly carry it to y ou in the dining
room."
"I like it better here." Clary s miled to hers elf at the way Sarah addres s ed her. Apparently , Jack
had informed his s taff that they were to us e his new name for her. She didn' t mind a bit. W ith a
new name s he felt almos t reborn, fres h and clean, with no unhappy pas t to s hadow her day s . She
looked appreciativ ely at the whitewas hed kitchen walls and the y ellow-and-white-checkered
curtains . A pot of chiv es s at on the wide windows ill nex t to a peach pie fres h from the ov en, s et
there to cool. "The kitchen is s o pretty with the morning s un coming in the window."
"The s un' ll be hot later." Deftly , Sarah cut the
bis cuits into rounds and arranged them in a pan. "The men s tarted work early , while it was s till
cool. They ' ll be back s oon, hungry as wildcats in winter." W ith the bis cuits s afely in the brick
ov en nex t to the fireplace to bake, Sarah began to s lice a s lab of bacon into thin ras hers .
"Let me help y ou." Clary glanced around the kitchen, try ing to find s omething that needed doing,
that s he would know how to do. She took a s tep toward the bacon, but s topped with one hand s till
outs tretched when the knife Sarah was holding plunged downward point firs t into the tabletop.
"This kitchen is my domain," Sarah declared, fis ts on her hips . "I don' t need outs iders in here,
tellin' me how to do my work."
Clary burs t into laughter. She laughed s o hard s he had to s it down. She dropped onto one of the
s turdy wooden chairs on the other s ide of the table from Sarah and held her s ides , laughing until
s he was in tears . Sarah leaned acros s the table, both hands s pread out on top of it.
" W hat' s wrong with y ou?" s he demanded.
"I wis h I knew," Clary ans wered, wiping tears off her cheeks . "Perhaps it' s delay ed hy s teria.
W eren' t y ou told how Mr. Martin pulled me out of the canal y es terday ?"
"I heard. That don' t ex plain what y ou' re doin' here or why y ou' re try in' to pus h me out of my
kitchen."
"I' m not. I was hoping to make my s elf us eful and als o hoping that y ou would be willing to teach
me how to cook in a kitchen like this . I

don' t know any thing about it. I' m a terrible cook at the bes t of times ."
"Can' t cook? W hy not? Didn' t y our mama ev er teach y ou any thing a grown woman' s s uppos ed to
know?"
"I gues s not, becaus e I s eem to be s erious ly lacking in womanly accomplis hments ." In kitchen
and bedroom alike, Clary added s ilently to hers elf. "You s ee, Sarah, I hav e no family , no friends
in this area, and no home, which is why Mr. Martin inv ited me to s tay here for a while as his
gues t. But it s eems to me that ev ery one at Afon Farm has work to do, s o I think I ought to try to
make my s elf us eful, too."
"You want to be us eful," Sarah repeated. Her ey es narrowed. "Are y ou one of the girls from
Madam Ros e' s ?"
"Far from it." Clary s tifled renewed laughter at the thought. It was a minute or two before s he
could continue. "I hav e only the mos t bas ic idea of what thos e ladies do to earn their liv ing."
"It' s jus t as well." Sarah pulled the knife out of the tabletop and went back to s licing the bacon,
"From what Dancy s ay s , y ou don' t want to know too much about the goings -on in a place like
that."
"You know Dancy ?" Clary as ked in s urpris e. She was ev en more s urpris ed by Sarah' s ans wer.
"Dancy is Mos es ' s brother. He' s not s uited to farm work. He didn' t want to s tay here, s o Mis ter
Jack conv inced Madam Ros e to take him on at her place. It' s clos e enough that we can s ee
Dancy from time to time, and he' s done quite
well there, though I wis h there were another place where he could get hones t work."
"Madam Ros e told me that Dancy is her partner," Clary noted.
"You want to be us eful? Then don' t jus t s it there and talk. Us e this cloth to wipe off the table and
then s et it before thos e s tarv in' men arriv e. The dis hes are in the cupboard in the corner,
cutlery ' s in the drawer underneath." Sarah arranged bacon s lices in a black iron s killet, then put
the s killet on the wood-burning cooks tov e. Thinly s liced s teaks went into a s econd s killet. The
coffeepot s at on a lower lev el of the cooks tov e, where it would s tay hot until the coffee was
wanted.
Clary bus ied hers elf with dis hes , s poons , and kniv es , and while the two women worked, Sarah
talked. Clary had the impres s ion that Sarah was lonely for female company . The fact that her
companion at the moment was a s tranger and a white woman didn' t s eem to matter.
"Madam Ros e made Dancy her partner after he s av ed her life and her bus ines s ," Sarah s aid.
"Thos e men diggin' the canal drink an awful lot of beer and whis key , and Madam Ros e' s is the
only place around here to buy it. There was a terrible brawl one night. The hous e was nearly
des troy ed, all the furniture broken, and one of the men inv olv ed held Madam Ros e with a knife at
her throat. But before he could hurt her, Dancy crept up behind the man and hit him ov er the head
with a s hov el. Then he tos s ed out the res t of the brawlers and helped Madam

Ros e to clean up the place and s tood guard for the remainder of the night s o s he could s leep."
"So Madam Ros e made Dancy a partner out of gratitude?" Clary was wide-ey ed at this s tory .
"She calls him- her partner. I' m not s ure jus t what the ex act arrangement is . There' s all kinds of
laws about black folks ownin' property , s o it may be that Mis ter Jack is the legal partner, but if s o,
he s ees to it that Dancy gets the money that' s due him. And to giv e her credit, Madam Ros e has
alway s been fair to Dancy , too."
"She s truck me as a fair woman." Clary agreed, "but awfully tough. I gues s s he has to be to
s urv iv e in her bus ines s ."
"She ought to get out of that bus ines s before s he gets killed. Or put in jail." Sarah began turning
the bacon s lices with a long-handled fork. "You want to put the butter and the honey on the table,
Miz Clary ? There' s s trawberry jam, too. Mis ter Jack likes it on his bis cuits ."
"Sarah." Clary paus ed, honey jar in hand, watching Sarah to s ee what effect her words would
hav e. "Madam Ros e s aid Dancy is a freed s lav e."
"That' s right." Sarah checked the s teaks , which were s iz z ling in their own pan.
"Forgiv e me if I' m ov ers tepping a boundary I don' t s ee," Clary s aid, "but are y ou a s lav e? And
what about Mos es and Luke?"
" W e us ed to be."
"But y ou' re not now?"
"Not s ince Mis ter Jack bought us ."
"He bought y ou?" Clary s at down hard on the
neares t chair. "He actually went to a s ale and bought human beings ?"
"Happens all the time. Lots of people think black folks aren' t human."
Clary almos t bit her tongue. There were a doz en things s he wanted to s ay , but s he reminded
hers elf that this was the early nineteenth century when s lav ery was not uncommon. Ev en a man
as obv ious ly well educated and cultiv ated as Jack Martin might own s lav es and think nothing of
the human cos t.
"Sarah, would y ou tell me about it? About the s ale and how y ou came to be free?"
"It happened about fiv e y ears ago. Mis ter Jack went down to Carolina lookin' for s trong laborers
' caus e he needed help on the farm. Nobody round here wanted to hire out to work on a farm,
' caus e there was much better pay diggin' the canal.
"Dancy was up for s ale firs t. You' v e s een him. He' s big and s trong and looks like he' d be a good
field hand. But Dancy can' t s tand being' out in the s un all day . It makes him s ick. Any way , Mis ter
Jack didn' t know that, and if the auctioneer knew it, he was n' t talkin' , s o Mis ter Jack bought
Dancy . Then Mos es went on the block."
"Jus t Mos es ?" Clary was horrified, "You were going to be s old s eparately ? I' v e read about this
kind of thing. How awful for y ou."
"Luke was jus t a little boy then, and he s tarted cry in' , ' caus e he thought he was nev er goin' to
s ee his daddy again," Sarah s aid, continuing in the s ame matter-of-fact v oice in which s he had

related all of her family ' s his tory . "Mis ter Jack noticed Luke and came ov er to us and as ked what
the trouble was and if we were being' mis treated. W hen he learned we were a family , he as ked
me jus t one ques tion. ' Sarah,' he s aid, ' can y ou cook and clean hous e?' I told him, ' I' m the bes t
cook y ou' ll ev er get.' So he bought all four of us and brought us back here. Treated us real good
on the trip, too."
" W hen were y ou freed?" Clary as ked, enthralled by what s he was hearing.
"I' m comin' to that. Here, the bis cuits are done. W atch y our fingers . The pan' s hot. Put a napkin
into that bas ket and pile the bis cuits into it. Then pour s ome cream into the blue pitcher.
" W hen we got to the farm here," Sarah s aid, "Mis ter Jack s howed us around and told us we could
liv e in thos e two cottages jus t down the hill. Then he offered us a bargain. He s aid the farm
hadn' t been worked for y ears , but he wanted to make it profitable and he needed help to do that.
He s aid he didn' t believ e s lav es would work as well as free men and women who had s omething
to gain from their efforts , s o he' d giv e us each our freedom and a plot of land for our own. In
return, the men were to work in the fields and with the liv es tock, and I was to be hous ekeeper and
cook. Then, when each harv es t was in, he' d pay us a portion of the profits in cas h."
"He didn' t hav e to do that, did he?" Clary wondered where Jack Martin had acquired s uch
enlightened ideas . For the time in which he liv ed,
his generos ity to people he could hav e kept as s lav es was truly as tonis hing.
"No, he didn' t hav e to be s o good to us ," Sarah agreed. "' Cours e, Dancy didn' t las t too long. Like
I s aid, he can' t s tand being' in the s un all day , which is why Mis ter Jack arranged for him to work
for Madam Ros e, s o he could be indoors mos t of the time. Mis ter Jack is in Bohemia Village quite
often, s o he keeps a s harp ey e on Dancy to be s ure he' s all right. Dancy needs a bit of ex tra
help, y ou s ee, ' caus e he' s not as s trong as he looks . Mos es , now--Mos es is the s tronges t man
I' v e ev er known." Sarah' s mouth curv ed in an affectionate s mile as Mos es walked into the
kitchen.
"Strong," he s aid with a deep, rumbling laugh, "and half s tarv ed after puttin' in a full day ' s work
before breakfas t."
Behind Mos es came Luke. Jack followed a minute later, doffing his hat as he came through the
door. He was dres s ed like the other two in boots , denim ov eralls , and a blue work s hirt.
"Did y ou all was h up?" Sarah demanded. "Nobody s its at my table with dirty hands . Luke, let me
s ee y our hands . You, too, Mos es ."
"Don' t y ou want to s ee my hands ?" Laughing at his cook, Jack held his own hands out for
ins pection along with Mos es and Luke.
"I gues s y ou' ll do." Sarah nodded her approv al. "Sit down now. It' s almos t ready ."
Jack' s ey es met Clary ' s with a ques tion. She knew he was thinking about the way he had kis s ed
her the night before, becaus e that kis s

was uppermos t in her mind, too. But after hearing Sarah' s s tory , s he had a v ery different opinion
of him. W hatev er els e he might be, Jack Martin had a heart big enough to be generous to many
different kinds of people, including a des perate s lav e family . Including hers elf, too. Perhaps he
had a thing about helping people in trouble. Clary gav e him a bright s mile. She thought he looked
reliev ed.
"Since time immemorial," he s aid with a wink at Clary , "cooks hav e ruled their kitchens with iron
hands ."
"Clean iron hands ," Sarah s aid, breaking eggs into the s killet nex t to the bacon. She flas hed a
quick look in Clary ' s direction. "And s ometimes cooks take on apprentices . Miz Clary , y ou better
get thos e s teaks before they burn, ' caus e I only hav e two hands here. You can pour the coffee,
too."
They all ate together, s itting around the kitchen table. There was no point in s eparating the
mas ter of the hous e from his workers , for they were all too bus y to cons ider s ocial dis tinctions .
And while Clary knew that racial dis tinctions would hav e kept mos t white landowners of that time
from eating with their black farm workers , Jack s eemed obliv ious to that particular difference.
"You think today and tomorrow will be enough for the peaches ?" Sarah as ked.
"It' ll take another three day s at leas t to get the earlies t ripening ones picked," Mos es ans wered
her. "After that, half a day ev ery other day s hould
do it, s o we can work on the other crops , too. Sarah, y ou goin' to help us ?"
"Soon as I clean up the kitchen," Sarah s aid.
" W ell," Clary put in, "if ev ery one els e is going to be out in the orchard picking peaches , I' m going
to be there, too."
"It' s hot work," Sarah cautioned.
"If it' s not too hot for the four of y ou, then it' s not too hot for me," s he ins is ted.
"You' ll need a big hat." Jack was watching her intently but he made no objections .
"And s ome work clothes ," Clary added. "Sarah, are there any old ov eralls I could wear? I don' t
care how ragged they might be. I jus t want s omething I can mov e in eas ily . This long s kirt is v ery
hampering."
"No." Jack s ent her a look that s he was s ure was meant to make her giv e up at once her
outrageous idea of wearing men' s clothes .
"Yes ," s he s aid, lifting her chin and try ing to appear s tern and determined. "There was a time,
Jack, when I practically liv ed in blue jeans ."
" W as there?" Hearing the emphas is s he put on the word time, he nodded. "Very well, then. If it is
what y ou are accus tomed to wearing, I will not attempt to s top y ou. Sarah, outfit her as bes t y ou
can, and we s hall s ee how long s he las ts in the heat."
Clary las ted longer than the res t of them ex pected. Clad in a pair of clean but threadbare ov eralls
that Luke had outgrown, a pair of boots dis cov ered in the hous e when Jack firs t had come

there, one of Jack' s own s hirts with the s leev es rolled up, and a pair of his thick winter s tockings
to pad out the too-long boots , s he worked bes ide Jack for the greater part of that day , s topping
only to help Sarah carry a cold midday meal out from the kitchen s o they could eat beneath the
peach trees .
" W hat do y ou do with all of thes e peaches ?" s he as ked in the late afternoon as s he and Jack
lifted y et another bas ket into the cart. "W e can' t pos s ibly eat ev ery one before they s poil."
"Mos es and I will take a couple of cartloads into Bohemia Village," he ans wered. "There will be
boats picking up goods to take to Baltimore to s ell. They will be eager for fres h peaches ."
"Is that how y ou us ually dis pos e of y our ex tra peaches ?"
"Until the canal is fully us eable." Jack' s ey es were gleaming at the pros pect. "Sam MacKenz ie
and I hav e talked about buy ing our own boat. W e could load it with produce from Afon Farm and
fill out the cargo with s maller loads of goods that people will drop off at Bohemia. It will be a
while before the canal is s afe for larger boats , but when it is finally completed, we will be able to
s ail through to the Delaware Riv er and then upriv er to Philadelphia in only three or four day s ."
" W here y ou and Sam will both immediately become fabulous ly wealthy peach barons !" Clary
teas ed. Seeing Jack relax ed and laughing, with his blue s hirt open at the neck and the gleaming
s un on his dark hair when he doffed his hat for a moment to wipe his brow, s he
decided to take a chance. "I' ll bet y ou nev er picked peaches in England, did y ou?"
She was n' t s ure what kind of reaction s he ex pected from him. He might ignore her comment or
accus e her of intruding into his my s terious pas t, where he had warned her not to go. Or he could
jus t laugh off her remark and go on picking peaches . W hat he did was meet her ey es s quarely
before he gav e her a direct and s imple ans wer.
"I nev er picked peaches or any thing els e from a tree in England. I nev er did any us eful work
there." Clapping his s traw planter' s hat back onto his head, he adjus ted the ov erloaded bas ket
they had jus t mov ed s o it wouldn' t tip ov er and s pill the peaches , and then he s traightened up to
gaz e ov er his land, taking in the s un-drenched fields and the blue riv er jus t v is ible here and
there between the trees . The look on his face was one of deep contentment.
"I hav e learned a lot in thes e las t few y ears s ince I came here to liv e," he s aid. "I like America.
There is a s ens e of great freedom here. I feel as if I could ex plore to the v ery horiz on and bey ond
and nev er meet an obs tacle I could not conquer. This is good land. There is great s atis faction in
farming it."
Clary s aw that he was perfectly s erious and not the leas t bit annoy ed with her. "You' v e become
an American," s he s aid s oftly .
"Perhaps I hav e, in s pite of my s elf." He grinned at her, reaching out to pus h her wide-brimmed
hat down farther onto her head. "W atch out for

the s un. It' s turning y our nos e red. Let us get back to work, Clary . W e mus t take adv antage of the
good weather."
" W e could eat in the kitchen," Clary s aid. "It' s not right to ex pect Sarah to work in the fields all
day and then come back and cook our dinner and s erv e it to us ."
"Don' t ev en s ugges t it to her," Jack warned. "Sarah' s s ens e of what is right and proper would be
deeply offended. It is bad enough that I--and now y ou--eat breakfas t in the kitchen during the
harv es t. Trus t me, Clary . I know her better than y ou do."
"All right. You' re the bos s ."
"See that y ou don' t forget it."
Clary laughed and headed for her bedroom. Jack' s mood had lightened ev en more as the day
wore on, until his ey es were dancing with mis chief and his teas ing had Sarah chuckling and Luke
cracking up with y outhful laughter. Clary had the feeling that this was the way Jack and his
employ ees us ually worked together, with good humor and hard phy s ical effort. They appeared to
be perfectly comfortable with each other and their eas y acceptance of her felt wonderful to Clary .
Her arms and s houlders ached, s he knew her nos e was s unburned, s he could hardly wait to get
out of her dus ty work clothes and into the bath s tall nex t to the kitchen--and it had been a long,
long time s ince s he had been s o content.
She pulled off her clothes , folding them into a pile to put on again the following morning when
the peach harv es t would continue. After s hrugging into her wrapper, s he grabbed her towel and a
cake of s oap. Madam Ros e had included a bar of ros e-s cented s oap in the bandbox s he had
made up for Clary , but Clary thought after a day in the fields s he would need s omething s tronger.
Sarah' s homemade s oap would be jus t the thing.
She pumped two buckets of water and took them to the baths tall. Then, after hanging the towel
and robe on the hooks outs ide the entrance, s he began to s oap hers elf. The bath s tall was jus t a
J-s haped curv e of brick with a clean grav el floor and no roof. The bricks looked different in color
from thos e that made up the kitchen wall to which the s tall was attached. This made Clary think
the bathing arrangement was a later addition, probably built after Jack had arriv ed at the farm.
Ev en without a door, s he had a certain amount of priv acy , for any one wis hing to enter could s ee
the towel and clothing hung on the hooks and would know the s tall was already occupied. It might
be cold to take a bath there in winter, but on a hot s ummer ev ening it was jus t fine. Clary didn' t
ev en mind us ing cold water. Her hair and body lathered to her s atis faction, s he dumped a bucket
of water ov er hers elf to rins e off the s oap. W ith her hair dripping into her ey es , s he blindly
reached around the corner of the entrance, groping for her towel. It was put into her hand.
"Giv e it back when y ou are dry , and I will hand y ou the wrapper nex t," Jack s aid.

"You aren' t s uppos ed to be here," s he told him.
"Madam, I am nex t in line."
Quickly s he dried hers elf, then wrapped the towel around her wet hair. W hen s he put her hand
around the corner again, Jack gav e her the wrapper. "Go away ," s he ordered, "and s tay away
until I hav e finis hed."
"Am I an inadequate as s is tant?" She could hear the laughter in his v oice.
"I don' t need an as s is tant. I can take my own bath and dry my s elf. Go away !"
The s ilence following this command made her as s ume that he had obey ed her. W ith the s as h of
the wrapper tightly knotted about her wais t, s he lifted the long s kirt off the wet ground and
clutched the neckline up to her chin. Then s he s tepped around the curv e of brick. He was waiting
for her, one arm braced on the wall. "I trus t y ou are feeling better now," he s aid, his gray ey es
twinkling.
"Much." She tried to s tep around him but he was too big and the bath s tall entrance was too
narrow.
"Thank y ou for today , Clary . You were a great help."
"Ev en though I s hocked ev ery one by wearing men' s clothes ?"
"Did y ou really wear them frequently in the other time?"
"Almos t ev ery day ."
"You mus t hav e driv en to madnes s ev ery man who s aw y ou in s uch garb." He took his hand off
the brick wall. W ith one finger he tilted her chin upward. She s aw his mouth s often and knew he
was about to kis s her. W ith a his s of s harply indrawn breath, s he s tepped backward and his hand
dropped. "You need not fear me, Clary . I would nev er do any thing to hurt y ou." "So y ou s ay .
Prov e it. Let me out of here."
He mov ed as ide s o s he could pas s him. She s tepped out of the s hadow of the curv ing brick wall
into early ev ening s unlight. He followed her. "W hile there is a certain piquant charm to the s ight
of a lov ely woman in men' s clothing," he murmured, "I find that I much prefer to s ee y ou in more
feminine attire." It was then that Clary realiz ed how the s lanting ray s of the s un mus t be s hining
through the thin cotton wrapper, outlining her figure. To make matters wors e, s he was holding the
s kirt at knee height. She was more completely cov ered than s he ev er was at the beach, and
certainly more cov ered than when Jack had pulled her out of the canal, y et s he felt indecently
ex pos ed. She dropped the fis tful of cloth s he was holding, letting the wrapper fall down to her
ankles , and then s he s talked away to the hous e without looking back to s ee if he was s till
watching. "Infuriating man," s he muttered, s afe in her room and rubbing her hair s o hard with the
towel that s he almos t made her head ache. "Thos e long looks , thos e innuendos --who the hell
does he think he is ? Oh, no--pardon me, Madam Ros e--

forgiv e me, Mr. Jack Martin. I meant to s ay , who in heav en' s name does he think he is to treat a
lady in s uch a s hocking manner?"
She began to laugh at hers elf. She couldn' t help it. She couldn' t decide whether s he ought to be
an outs poken, crude-mouthed, late-twentieth-century woman or an ov erly genteel
nineteenth-century lady . Furthermore, if s he were perfectly hones t with hers elf s he would admit
that s he found Jack Martin' s open interes t in her flattering, and although s he ought to know better
than to trus t any man, s he believ ed him in her heart when he s aid he wouldn' t do any thing to hurt
her.
That night Sarah s erv ed up a baked ham, s weet potatoes , greens , and fres h corn bread for dinner
with a warm peach cobbler for des s ert. Jack was the perfect hos t, humorous , relax ed, and only
mildly , politely flirtatious . Clary enjoy ed hers elf s o much that s he was more than a little
dis appointed when he s ugges ted an early bedtime. Then s he was annoy ed with hers elf for being
dis appointed. She had made it clear to him that s he did not want any thing romantic to happen
between them, and he was taking her at her word. There was no logical reas on why her feelings
s hould be hurt when he did not s ugges t an interv al beneath the s tars with glas s es of Madeira
wine. On this ev ening he didn' t ev en bring out the wine; he jus t es corted her to her bedroom door
and bid her good night.
Tired as s he was , s he could not fall as leep. She lay with her ey es clos ed while s cenes from the
day jus t pas t replay ed thems elv es like a mov ie through her thoughts : Sarah' s s tory of s lav ery
and freedom, the backbreaking work of picking peaches , Jack' s laughter and eas y manners with
his employ ees , the way he treated Clary , hers elf. W ho was he, this s trange Englis hman who had
bought and then freed an entire family , who had dragged a half-drowned and des perately
unhappy woman out of a canal and taken her home with him and treated her as if s he were
s omeone fas cinating and des irable and y et did not force hims elf upon her?
She heard a foots tep on the grav el in front of the hous e. Recalling the s ounds of the prev ious
night s he got out of bed and on s ilent bare feet went to the open window. Jack was s tanding a few
paces bey ond the v eranda with his head thrown back, gaz ing up at the s tars . He held s omething
in his hand, and when he put it in his mouth s he realiz ed that he was s moking a pipe. A trace of
tobacco s moke drifted her way .
"I ought to tell him what twentieth-century medicine has dis cov ered about the dangers of
tobacco," s he murmured. She almos t climbed ov er the windows ill to warn him right then. She had
one knee on the s ill when s he s topped hers elf. "Claris s a Cummings , what are y ou doing? This is
an ex cus e to go out there and s tand under the s tars with him until he kis s es y ou. And then y ou' ll
tell him that y ou don' t want him to touch y ou. And he' ll know--and y ou' ll know it, too--that all y ou
want is for him to put his arms around y ou and hold y ou tight and tell y ou that he' ll nev er

let any thing hurt y ou again. And y ou know y ou can' t trus t or depend on any man, not ev en this
one. Not ev er again."
She made hers elf go back to bed and forced hers elf to s tay there, ly ing s tiff and breathles s ,
lis tening for the s lightes t s ound Jack produced as he s trolled on gras s or grav el. W hen s he
heard his s tep on the wooden v eranda floor s he clos ed her ey es , feigning s lumber as if he could
s ee her through the bedroom wall and the clos ed door. She did not s leep until long after his own
bedroom door had clicked s oftly s hut and all mov ement in his room had ceas ed.
The nex t day , they picked peaches again, not s topping until it was nearly dark, and the ev ening
was a repetition of the prev ious one. On Clary ' s fourth day at Afon Farm, s he and Sarah did not
go to the orchard to pick. Ins tead, they s orted the peaches , keeping the ripes t ones for immediate
us e and packing the les s ripe fruit into the bas kets in which they would be trans ported to
Bohemia Village to be s old. In late morning Jack and Luke drov e the loaded cart into Bohemia
Village, not returning until dark.
W hile they were gone Mos es attended to v arious farm chores before going into the orchard to
pick peaches by hims elf. Meanwhile, Clary and Sarah made peach jam in a huge old kettle. W hen
the jam was finis hed they mov ed on to another method of pres erv ing s ummer' s s weet gifts . Jack
kept a barrel of Kentucky whis key in the pantry that opened off the kitchen, and the
women us ed s ome of it to mix with honey . Then they packed the peeled, halv ed peaches along
with whole clov es and s ticks of cinnamon into crocks and cov ered them with the honey and
whis key mix ture.
"This is bourbon." Clary dipped a finger into the whis key and licked off the drop that clung to her
fingertip. "It' s pretty raw s tuff, too."
"Jus t y ou wait," Sarah told her. "W hat' s in the crocks will be nice and mellow by Chris tmas time,
with all the peach juices being' drawn out by the honey and thos e s pices flav orin' ev ery thing.
Mmm, I can almos t tas te it now."
"I wonder if I' ll s till be here at Chris tmas ." W ith the crocks full and the edges wiped clean with a
damp cloth, Sarah put the lids on and they carried the crocks into the pantry .
" W here els e would y ou go?" Sarah as ked.
"I don' t know. Ev en if I went back, I don' t hav e a home any more."
"Then y ou jus t s tay here. There' s few better places . And," Sarah s aid, handing Clary half-a-doz en
ears of corn to hus k, "y ou' v e turned into real good kitchen help. I' d hate to los e y ou. Now take
thos e ears outs ide s o y ou don' t get s craps all ov er my clean floor. And be s ure y ou pick off all
the s ilk. Then bring them back here and s crape off the kernels into the big bowl while I fire up the
ov en."
It s eemed to Clary that ev ery crop on the farm needed harv es ting at the s ame time, but Jack and
Mos es appeared to hav e an agreed-upon

s chedule, s o they worked methodically . Peaches , corn, wheat, beans , early apples , and ev en a
s mall crop of tomatoes were gathered, though Sarah informed Clary that few people cared to eat
tomatoes , fearing they might be pois onous .
"Black folks know better," Sarah s aid. "Tomatoes nev er hurt us , and Mis ter Jack likes them." She
added the v egetable to a tas ty rice dis h and did not laugh when Clary ins is ted on eating raw
s lices as a s alad.
Sarah s howed Clary how to cut the herbs that grew in the kitchen garden, how to tie them into
bunches and hang them from the s toreroom rafters to dry for winter us e. Ev ery third or fourth day
Jack took a cart laden with produce into Bohemia Village. Each day Clary and Sarah worked
together in the kitchen or, when they were needed, in the fields with the men.
The hot, s unny day s fell into a pattern of early ris ing, long hours of work broken by a cold midday
meal, and brief, cool ev enings when Clary was too tired to care that Jack nev er talked about
hims elf or mentioned his pas t or his family or friends --but then, s he didn' t talk about her pas t life
either. Nor did Jack make any further romantic ov ertures toward her. He was doing what s he
wanted him to do--he was obey ing her order to leav e her alone--and for that s he told hers elf s he
was grateful. For the firs t time in y ears no one was making any emotional demands of her. Thus ,
for the better part of a month, s he ex is ted in a timeles s world of s teady work and dreamles s
s leep in which s he rarely
thought about her old life. If s he recogniz ed that certain deep and bitter wounds from that life
were beginning to heal, s he did not dwell on the thought.
On one particularly hot afternoon Jack returned from Bohemia Village early and walked into the
kitchen, where Clary and Sarah were working.
"I can s carcely believ e my ey es ," he s aid. "Clary , y ou are wearing a dres s ."
"My ov eralls are in the laundry ." She looked down at her flower-s prigged gray cotton dres s ,
which was s omewhat faded after s ev eral was hings .
" W hat do I s mell?" Jack looked around the kitchen, then at Sarah.
"Bread fres h from the ov en," Sarah told him, "and three pies jus t put in to bake. Two apple and
one peach, s o y ou' ll hav e a choice. The ham' ll go in nex t for a nice, s low baking, s ince
tomorrow' s the Sabbath." The neares t church was too far away for regular attendance, but Sarah
refus ed to cook or bake on Sunday s , and s he s pent the day quietly in the neat white cottage down
the hill, where s he and Mos es and Luke liv ed.
"Clary ," Jack s aid, "would y ou like to go on a picnic?"
"You' re not plannin' to take her out in that leaky rowboat, are y ou?" Sarah as ked. "You thinkin' of
s pendin' the ev enin' fis hin' ?"
"If I catch any thing, I s hall as k Clary to clean it down by the riv er," he promis ed s olemnly ,
ignoring Clary ' s dis gus ted gas p of refus al. "Your

kitchen will remain s potles s until Monday morning, Sarah. Clary , get y our hat."
"I' m not s ure I want to go," s he s aid. She could s ee Sarah looking from her to Jack with an
ex pres s ion that reminded her of a mother worried about teenagers about to go off on a date.
"I was only teas ing. I promis e not to make y ou clean the fis h," Jack s aid to Clary . "It will be much
cooler by the riv er. You will come to no harm in my rowboat. I am an accomplis hed s ailor."
Clary s tood in the hot kitchen, thinking about cool riv er water and the s hade prov ided by the tall
trees that edged the water. If s he s pent an hour or two alone with Jack, away from the farm and
his cons tant chores , perhaps s he could coax information out of him about his own pas t and why
he was liv ing alone in Mary land. It was als o pos s ible that together they might be able to think of
a reas on for her pres ence in the early nineteenth century . She had put s uch ques tions as ide for
weeks . Now that s he had a few minutes to think about them, they began to nag at her mind once
more.
"Go on," Jack s aid to her. "Find y our hat while I s uperv is e the packing of our meal to be s ure we
don' t open the bas ket later to dis cov er we hav e been giv en s omething I don' t like."
"Superv is e, huh?" Sarah gav e v ent to a hearty chuckle. "There' s nothin' y ou don' t like. You eat
ev ery thing I s et in front of y ou, and y ou know
it.
"That is becaus e y ou are s uch a marv elous cook. Now let me s ee what treas ures y ou hav e
s tored in the pantry ."
"Mis ter Jack, y ou come out of there! Don' t y ou go dis turbin' my arrangements ."
Shaking her head in amus ement at Jack' s teas ing and Sarah' s affectionate fus s ing, Clary headed
acros s the brick courty ard to the hous e. In her room s he s natched up the s traw hat s he us ually
wore when working in the fields , then paus ed to take a quick glance in the mirror. That morning
s he had tied her long dark hair back with a ribbon, but in the heat of the kitchen, curls had
es caped to clus ter about her face. Thanks to the herbal concoctions Sarah ins is ted s he us e ev ery
day , her s kin was only lightly tanned in s pite of long hours in the s un. Her cheeks were flus hed,
her ey es s parkling. She looked like a woman on her way to meet her lov er.
She ran all the way back to the kitchen.

Chapter Sev en
"Sarah was right." Clary walked acros s the narrow s andy beach to ex amine the rowboat in
ques tion. "This thing does n' t look s eaworthy to me."
"Obv ious ly , y ou are unacquainted with the finer points of s hipbuilding. This thing, madam, is an
ex cellent little craft. She handles beautifully . You will be perfectly s afe in her." W hile he s poke
Jack flipped the dilapidated-looking boat right s ide up, s pread the blanket in the s tern, and
depos ited the picnic bas ket in the bow. He gav e the bow a s hov e, s liding the rowboat off the
beach and halfway into the water. His preparations completed, he put out his hand to Clary to
help her into the boat.
"Can y ou abs olutely guarantee that it won' t s ink?" Clary was s till regarding the rowboat with
trepidation.
"You hav e my word of honor on it."
She s aw the s mile in his ey es and knew he would teas e her for at leas t a week if s he refus ed to
go with him. She took his hand and let him guide her ov er the s ide. After making certain that s he
was comfortably s eated on the blanket with her back agains t the s tern, Jack pus hed on the bow
again, s ending the boat into the riv er. W hen he jumped in Clary came bolt upright, clutching at
the s ides , afraid they would tip ov er. She was n' t afraid of the water--s he knew how to s wim. It was
jus t that s he felt helples s while wearing long s kirts . She was us ed to a bathing s uit or a pair of
s horts when s he was around boats . She was s ure that, if s he fell in dres s ed as s he was , the
weight of her s kirts would drag her down and s he would drown.
There was no ques tion that Jack knew what he was doing. After a few minutes Clary s at back and
relax ed, watching the eas y motions of his arms as he rowed upriv er. His ev er pres ent planter' s
hat s hielded his face from the s un and s haded the ex pres s ion of his ey es from her, s o s he had
no hint as to what he was thinking. As for hers elf, s he was all too aware of his mas culine
pres ence and of the fact that they were completely alone. There were no other boats to be s een
and no s ign that humans liv ed any where near the riv er.
"This is a tributary of the Elk Riv er," Jack s aid, breaking the long s ilence between them with
neutral conv ers ation. "Afon Farm is on a point of land between the two."
" W ere y ou s erious about fis hing?" Try ing to

appear les s nerv ous than s he was , Clary let one hand dangle careles s ly into the water. W hen
s he looked ov er the s ide s he could s ee that it was remarkably clean water.
"Not really . I was only teas ing Sarah. W e can make another ex curs ion to fis h if y ou like on s ome
later day . I thought this would be a good opportunity for us to talk without interruptions ." Hav ing
reached the middle of the riv er s ome dis tance ups tream from where they had embarked, he
s hipped the oars , then reached around to lift the picnic bas ket out of the bow. He s et the bas ket
on the bench nex t to him before, with a graceful mov ement that barely rocked the boat, he s lipped
off the bench to s it bes ide her.
"Is this s afe?" Clary was n' t talking about the boat rocking too badly and dumping them into the
riv er. She was more concerned about Jack' s dis turbing nearnes s . There was s o little s pace in the
s tern of the rowboat that his right arm and thigh were pres s ed agains t her left s ide.
"That depends ," he s aid. "If y ou bounce around and try to mov e farther to s tarboard, we may v ery
well tip ov er and caps iz e. If, on the other hand, y ou hav e the good s ens e to s it quietly and eat the
cold collation I hav e prov ided, y ou s hould s tay dry ."
But not neces s arily s afe, s he thought, accepting the napkin he handed to her. Jack pulled a wine
bottle and two s temmed glas s es out of the picnic bas ket.
"Uncorked while s till s afely as hore," he s aid, s howing her that the cork had been pus hed partly
back into the bottle. "Now, my dear, if y ou will hold the glas s es s teady ."
" W ine in a rowboat, s erv ed in fine cry s tal?" Clary s hook her head. "Jack Martin, y ou are craz y ."
Nev ertheles s , s he held the glas s es as ordered while he poured a pale wine into them.
"I am cut to the quick by y our as s es s ment of my mental capacities . How can y ou s o cruelly ins ult
the v ery pers on who has made this charming meal pos s ible?"
"Jus t bad manners , I gues s ." She tried the wine and found it delightfully refres hing
"On the contrary , I perceiv e nothing wrong with y our manners ." Jack quirked an ey ebrow at her.
"No, ' tis rather s ome unhappy ev ent in y our pas t that has made y ou s o mis trus tful of men, a
matter which I plan to inv es tigate this v ery ev ening."
" W hy s poil a lov ely picnic by talking about unpleas ant s ubjects ?"
"Then y ou do admit this open-air feas t was a good idea?"
"So far it is ." Clary was thinking furious ly . If s he could make Jack talk about hims elf s he would
div ert his attention from her own pas t while at the s ame time learning more about him. She was
continually fas cinated by the way he could change in a moment or two from a s erious , practical
farmer who was not afraid to get his hands dirty working s ide by s ide with his black helpers or
with women to a charming, carefree man of the world who at times barely mis s ed coming off as a
s hallow play boy . Mos t definitely ,

Jack Martin was an interes ting pers onality . "Did y ou do this s ort of thing v ery often in England?"
s he as ked him. "Now and then." He unwrapped a napkin from a plate of cold chicken and offered
the plate to her. Clary s elected half a breas t. Jack took a leg and bit into it with ev ident relis h.
Clary was about to as k where in England he had conducted his picnics when he s poke firs t. "Did
y ou often do this s ort of thing?" he as ked.
"No. It' s too bad. I like eating out of doors ."
"I am glad to hear it. I will make certain that we do it again s oon."
"Jack, tell me--"
"Here is s ome of Sarah' s fres h bread, s liced and buttered," he interrupted. "W e als o hav e
wedges of tomatoes , s ome of that chees e I bought from a trader in Bohemia Village las t week,
and a napkin full of s ugar cookies . Sarah refus ed to giv e me the peach pie. She claimed it would
be too mes s y to eat with our hands . Somehow I think s he was wrong about that." "Jack--"
" W as there s omething els e y ou would like? It is not an ex trav agant feas t, I admit, but it s eemed
adequate to me." She regarded the man s itting nex t to her and knew he was n' t going to rev eal
any thing about hims elf that he didn' t want her to know. He lounged at his eas e, his hat tilted ov er
his forehead to keep the wes tering s un out of his ey es , his cros s ed, booted feet res ting on the
oars man' s bench, their two wineglas s es and the picnic bas ket crowded nex t to his feet. He
gnawed on the chicken leg he was holding as if he hadn' t eaten all day . "It' s a lov ely feas t," s he
s aid.
"Thank y ou. I thought s o, too." He s lanted a quick look at her. "You s eem to be content at Afon
Farm."
"I am." If he was going to be s ecretiv e about his life before coming to Mary land, then s he could
be jus t as clos emouthed about her own life and about her feelings . "I hav e noticed no indication
that y ou may be s uddenly called away ," he s aid.
"Neither hav e I." She met his lev el gaz e. "Perhaps we would not recogniz e thos e indications if
we s aw them. Then again, perhaps I am in this time to s tay ." "W ould that make y ou unhappy ?"
"No, it wouldn' t."
"You s ound s urpris ed, Clary ."
"Someone from the twentieth century would probably point out all the material adv antages I
would be mis s ing by remaining here," s he s aid s lowly . "Certainly I work harder and liv e more
s imply than I ev er hav e before." "There is a deep pleas ure to be found in s implicity . I hav e
ex perienced it my s elf."
"And in quiet," s he agreed. "That is the difference I notice mos t. Almos t all the s ounds I hear now
are natural ones ." "Then y ou hav e no real des ire to return to y our original time?"

"I think it' s out of my control. Coming here was certainly not my doing." W hen he offered her the
s ugar cookies , s he took two of them. "I eat twice as much as I ev er did before, but I don' t s eem to
gain weight, and I am dev eloping new mus cles ."
"Still, y ou are s ofter than when y ou firs t came here. You are more at eas e. I as s ume that is in
part becaus e y ou were unhappy in the other time."
"I try not to think about that time. Or about y our s ugges tion that in the twentieth century I may be
dead." She leaned forward to pick up her wineglas s , and when s he s at back again, Jack' s arm
was around her s houlders . Clary tens ed, but did not try to mov e away from his cas ual embrace.
In the cramped boat, there was no place for her to go.
"I hav e noticed," he murmured, "that y ou hav e a lamentable tendency to av oid any s ubject that
dis tres s es y ou. Thus , y ou deliberately do not think about y our unhappy pas t. It was unhappy ,
was it not?"
"I am not av oiding any thing."
"No?" He took the wineglas s from her hand and s et it down on the bench. "Prov e the truth of that
s tatement."
"I don' t hav e to prov e any thing to y ou."
"Perhaps the pers on to whom y ou need to prov e s omething is y ours elf." His hand touched her
cheek only briefly , y et it was as though s he was impris oned in bands of s teel. He turned her face
toward his and his ey es captured hers . Clary
was aware of a mos t dis turbing heat s weeping through her body . She told hers elf it was caus ed
by the wine.
"How can a woman s o beautiful be s o untouched and y et s o afraid?" he whis pered.
Ev en if there had been s ome place for her to go, Clary could not hav e mov ed. There was a
trembling deep ins ide her that made her incapable of any action. Jack pulled off her hat and
tos s ed it into the bow of the rowboat. His own hat s ailed after it.
"I am not beautiful," Clary protes ted.
"You truly think not?" He s miled at her. "Therein lies a s ad mis take of perception, madam." His
fingers mov ed from her cheek into her hair. She felt the hair at the back of her neck loos en as he
unfas tened the ribbon that s ecured the full weight of her locks . He lifted the dark curls , pulling
them forward to frame her face, while he s poke in a s oft, cares s ing v oice. "Hair like the fines t,
blackes t jet. You mus t allow it to grow longer than s houlder length. I can eas ily imagine it
cas cading downward to y our hips or lower s till.
"Ey es like pure aquamarine cry s tals ." His fingertips lightly touched each ey elid. Clary s at
immobiliz ed while one long finger mov ed to outline her lips . "And a mouth des igned to driv e any
man mad with pas s ion. Oh, Clary , y our beautiful mouth may well prov e to be my undoing."
Still holding her only gently , his fingertips barely touching her chin, he gaz ed at her for

a long moment, then s lowly lowered his face to kis s her lightly .
"Don' t." Clary caught her breath, frightened by the haunting s weetnes s of his mouth. "I can' t."
"I thought y ou were beginning to forget y our fear," he s aid. "I hoped in time y ou would learn to
trus t me."
"I do trus t y ou," s he whis pered. "About ev ery thing ex cept--ex cept--"
"Ex cept this ?" His mouth touched hers again briefly , jus t long enough to make her want him to
kis s her a third time.
"Pleas e--" A tear trembled at the corner of her ey e. She blinked it away .
"Gladly , my dear." He kis s ed her cheek where the tear lay .
"Jack, I--" She prepared hers elf to tell him why s he could not allow him to continue. She would
ex plain all the reas ons . He would unders tand and row the boat back to s hore and es cort her to
the farmhous e and nev er trouble her like this again. She drew in a s huddering breath and opened
her lips to s peak.
"Oh, Clary . Clary ." His mouth was a s weet enchantment on hers . The arm that lay around her
s houlders tightened, drawing her clos er to him.
She rais ed a hand to pus h him away , but when her fingers touched his s houlder they did not
pus h. They gripped, her nails digging into the hard mus cle beneath his s hirt.
He did not allow her to catch her breath long enough to offer any coherent protes t agains t his
lov emaking, though s oft cries and moans he permitted. Nor did he object when her hand crept
upward from his s houlder to his cheek and then to his s mooth mahogany hair. His own hands
were bus y , too. Clary cried out when he cov ered her breas t. He s tifled the s ound with a renewed
ons laught upon her mouth. A moment later s he was pres s ing hers elf upward into his hot palm,
s training agains t the cotton bodice of her dres s . She felt the boat rock a little as he s hifted
pos ition, but s he was no longer concerned about being dumped into the water. She was ins tead
totally focus ed on what he was doing to her.
It was magical, incredible, bey ond any thing s he had ev er ex perienced. His tongue teas ed around
the edges of her mouth until her lips parted and he plunged into her in a s urge of v elv ety heat.
Clary was drowned in pure s ens ation. Forgetting dis trus t and fear, s he gav e hers elf up to kis s es
that drugged her s ens es , y et s timulated them at the s ame time.
She s carcely noticed when he remov ed his hand from her breas t and reached down to lift her
s kirt, but s he was immediately aware of his fingers creating upward-mov ing heat along calv es
and knees and then on her thighs .
"Clary ." He tore his mouth from hers to whis per in her ear. "Don' t be afraid. Let me s how y ou--no,
don' t be afraid of me, s weetheart." This las t admonition was murmured as his fingers reached the
place between her thighs and s he went rigid and tried to clamp her legs together. He s topped her
cry of alarm with his mouth,

kis s ing her until s he began to relax again. He did not remov e his hand from between her thighs ,
and after a few minutes he began to cares s her. Clary whimpered agains t his mouth, s tiffened a
s econd time, then made hers elf go limp. She was quaking in the v ery depths of her being, but
s he did not want him to s top what he was doing. In fact, if he were to s top, s he thought s he would
go mad, becaus e there was a heav y , throbbing need building s teadily in the area where he was
s troking and mas s aging. If he would jus t--jus t touch--there! His finger circled, pres s ing agains t
the ex act s pot, and Clary s hiv ered into erotic awarenes s .
" W hat are y ou doing?" s he cried.
"Hus h, lov e. It' s all right." His mouth took hers again. And then the mos t amaz ing thing began to
happen. His tongue s lipped into her mouth again, while in the s ame way his finger s lid into a
more intimate place. Clary felt her body tighten around him. She winced when he withdrew, and
s he s ighed with pleas ure when he came back into her. All the time his mouth was on hers and his
tongue was ins ide her, too, s urging and withdrawing in her mouth. She felt a s econd finger
s troking her mos t s ens itiv e place, s troking and s troking until the rippling conv uls ions began and
drov e the breath from her lungs and s ent her mind reeling far bey ond thought into s ens ation s o
intens e that s he s creamed aloud in ex ultation.
W hen s he was able to think again, s he was ly ing crus hed agains t Jack' s ches t, with her s kirt
s till up around her thighs and her arms wrapped about his wais t.
"Dear God in heav en!" s he ex claimed. "I mean, good heav ens , what did y ou do to me?"
His arms tightened and s he felt laughter rumbling through his ches t. She s at up, ris ked a quick
downward glance, then looked into his ey es .
"You hav en' t finis hed," s he s aid, preparing hers elf to accept what he would probably want her to
do for him.
"That does n' t matter. I will s urv iv e the dis comfort, for a while at leas t. There is no need for us to
rus h matters ." The look he gav e her was deep and s earching. "Clary , we mus t talk. You cannot
ev ade my ques tions now."
"No, I gues s not." She s ank back into his arms and lay quietly for a while before s peaking again.
"That nev er happened to me before. It was lov ely ." An inadequate word to des cribe what s he had
felt during thos e s oaring, ecs tatic moments , but her mind s eemed to be as relax ed as her body ,
s o s he could not think of any thing more profound to s ay .
"I am glad I was with y ou for y our firs t time," he s aid. "Howev er, Clary , when I touched y ou s o
intimately , I dis cov ered to my s urpris e that y ou are not a v irgin. I as s ume that y our dis trus t of
men is the res ult of hav ing been badly us ed and then abandoned."
"That' s pretty clos e to the truth," s he admitted. "Emotional abandonment is ev ery bit as

bad as a man phy s ically walking out of a woman' s life."
" W ho was he? Did y ou lov e him?"
"I thought I lov ed him v ery much," s he s aid s lowly , try ing to gather her thoughts s o s he could
decide how to tell Jack the truth without making him angry or rev ealing too much. "W e knew each
other as children and we were alway s friends . He was kind and gentle during thos e firs t y ears ,
and he nev er gav e me the hard time other boy s gav e their girlfriends ."
"Hard time?" Jack looked puz z led.
"The pawing," s he ex plained. "The heav y kis s ing and groping and wanting more than a girl
wanted to giv e."
"Ah, I unders tand. He treated y ou as a gentleman ought to treat a lady , hoping thus to lure y ou
into dropping y our guard. Very clev er of him. W hen did his behav ior change?"
"After we got married."
"You hav e a hus band?" He s at up with s o abrupt a mov ement that the boat rocked and tipped.
"Not any more," Clary s aid. "If I were s till in the twentieth century , I would div orce him. As it is , in
this time, I am not married y et, becaus e Rich has n' t been born y et. Believ e me, if I ev er hav e the
chance to marry him again, I will s ay a loud, clear no."
"I can s ee s ome dis tinct adv antages to y our unus ual s ituation. Of cours e y ou are not married."
He came down bes ide her once more, but he did not put his arms around her. "Am I correct
in believ ing that y our dis trus t of men s tems from Rich' s ill treatment of y ou?"
"Neglectful treatment would be a better word for it. I don' t think he ev er lov ed me. I think now that
he married me becaus e ev ery one we knew ex pected us to marry ."
"That does happen," Jack agreed. "So it was not a happy marriage?"
"At firs t I thought it would be, once we both had a little time to adjus t, but after the firs t couple of
months Rich began to grow more and more dis tant. W henev er I tried to be romantic he told me I
was a bore. You know, Jack, I really s houldn' t be telling y ou this . It' s not in v ery good tas te for
me to lie here with y ou after what we' v e jus t done and s ay thes e things about Rich."
"On the contrary , I think it is v itally important for y ou to tell me ev ery thing," he s aid. "It is the only
way I am ev er going to unders tand why y ou feel the way y ou do about men."
"I can tell y ou all y ou need to know in jus t a couple of s entences ." A bitter note crept into Clary ' s
v oice. "Rich and I were married for two y ears , and for much of that time he made me feel guilty
becaus e I was n' t ex citing enough for him. Then one ev ening I dis cov ered him in bed with
s omeone els e--with a mutual friend, to be precis e."
"You s hould not hav e s een that." His touch on her cheek was s oft and reas s uring. "You mus t
hav e been deeply hurt."
"I was furious . It was like being hit by a bolt of lightning. In that one moment I unders tood

that all my efforts to be a good wife were futile and alway s would be. That was when I ran out of
the hous e and got into my car and drov e away as fas t as I could. As I came off the canal bridge I
s ides wiped a truck and the car mus t hav e flipped ov er or my foot jammed on the gas pedal. I' m
not s ure what the ex act mechanics of the accident were, but that was when I went into the canal.
The nex t thing I knew, y ou were pumping water out of me." Clary hoped that the information s he
had jus t prov ided would s atis fy him and that he wouldn' t try to probe more deeply into her life in
the twentieth century . She did not want to reliv e the humiliation of her marriage and its ending.
But s he s hould hav e known Jack better than to imagine he would s top until he knew ev ery thing.
"I am beginning to unders tand," he s aid. "I take it y our intimate relations with Rich were not
pleas ant?" W hen s he did not ans wer, he added, "You did s ugges t a few minutes ago that y ou
nev er fully enjoy ed y ours elf with him."
"No." Clary took a deep breath to s trengthen hers elf for further rev elations . "It was alway s v ery
fas t and us ually rather uncomfortable. I was prepared for that at firs t, and I thought it would get
better with time. W e talk openly about s ex in the twentieth century , s o I did know what I was
mis s ing, and I tried to correct the s ituation. I us ed to read books on the s ubject and make delicate
s ugges tions to Rich, but I only annoy ed him. He refus ed to go to a marriage couns elor. He s aid
that, if there was
any problem, it was all in my head. He was the only man I had ev er been with, s o I didn' t hav e
any one to compare him with. I finally decided that he mus t be right and that my unhappines s
really was all my fault."
"Self-centered brute," Jack muttered.
"He was n' t really a brute," s he s aid. "He nev er hit me and he was alway s reas onably polite. Our
problems were all in the bedroom, and he didn' t s eem to be the leas t bit ups et by them, pos s ibly
becaus e I made a point of nev er refus ing him."
"As I s aid, a s elf-centered brute," Jack repeated. "Clary , I am not without ex perience in s uch
matters . If I told y ou jus t how much ex perience I enjoy ed in my y ounger day s , y ou would
probably be s hocked. I hav e been more continent s ince becoming a res pons ible landowner." He
gav e her a wry little s mile. "I am not boas ting about the life I liv ed as a v ery y oung man. I only
mention it s o y ou will know that I am aware of the res pons es of women in the bedroom, and thus I
hope y ou will believ e me when I s ay that y ou are one of the mos t delicious ly res pons iv e and
potentially the mos t pas s ionate woman I hav e ev er known."
"I hav e nev er thought of my s elf as a pas s ionate woman," s he murmured.
"I am not at all s urpris ed to hear that," he s aid. "I s tand ready to teach y ou any thing y ou want to
know in s uch matters ."
It was Clary ' s turn to s it up. "You are a dangerous man," s he told him.
"Pos s ibly ." He ran a finger along her right calf,

the touch s ending renewed tremors through her. She brus hed his hand away and pulled her s kirt
down to her ankles .
"Probably ," s he told him, "y ou will break my heart, too, if I let y ou."
"Rich did not break y our heart. He damaged the image y ou once had of y ours elf, and he badly
injured y our woman' s pride. I would not blame y ou if y ou were nev er able to forgiv e him for that.
But y our heart he did not ev en crack, let alone break."
"You may be right," s he admitted after a moment' s cons ideration of this theory . "Rich was my
childhood friend and my teenage crus h, but the las t two y ears des troy ed any tender feelings I
once had for him. That does n' t mean, howev er, that I will eas ily trus t another man."
"You can learn to trus t," he s aid. "You are learning already , or els e y ou would not be here with
me."
"Yes , and look what happened when I trus ted y ou for a few minutes ."
"Are y ou going to pretend that y ou did not enjoy it?" A s mile tugged at his lips . His finger was
running up and down her arm. Fighting back the urge to return his s mile, Clary s hook off his hand.
"I will begin to trus t y ou," s he told him, "when y ou tell me as much about y our pas t as y ou now
know about mine."
His fingers clos ed around her wris t, holding her tightly . His laughing mouth hardened into a firm
line.
"You know as much as y ou need to know. Judge me by what y ou s ee of me ev ery day ." His v oice
dropped a tone or two. "Judge me by the fact that I hav e not rav is hed y ou, though I hav e wanted
y ou badly s ince the firs t day I met y ou. I could make y ou want me, Clary . W ith what I hav e
learned about y ou this ev ening, I could make y ou ache with des ire for me until y ou came to my
bedroom at night and knelt down and begged me to take y ou. And though my need for y ou would
be far greater than y ours for me, and y ou lay naked and panting bes ide me, s till I would not
pos s es s y ou if doing s o would mean harm to y ou or if I thought y ou would regret it afterward."
"Don' t talk like that." She could not free her arm, nor could s he take her ey es from his .
"That is how far y ou can trus t me, Clary . Other men y ou may find untrus tworthy , but not me."
"Then tell me who y ou are," s he whis pered. "Tell me y our real name."
"I cannot."
"You want me to trus t y ou, but y ou won' t trus t me."
"There are other people inv olv ed."
"Are y ou married?" s he cried, frightened at the thought.
"No." His hand on her wris t loos ened. "After hearing y our s tory , I can unders tand why y ou would
as k that. I am not married, nor hav e I ev er been married. You hav e my word on it."
" W hy won' t y ou tell me y our name?"

"Becaus e s ix y ears ago I made a promis e. Since I am an honorable man, I cannot break that
promis e. W ould y ou want me to break a promis e I made to y ou?"
"No, of cours e not, but--"
"In this y ou mus t trus t me, Clary . That is what trus t is : belief without demons trable proof of what I
s ay ."
"I don' t know if I can do that." She looked down at her hands , twis ted together in her lap.
" W ith y our his tory , it will be particularly hard for y ou. W ill y ou make the effort? W ill y ou giv e me
the chance to prov e to y ou day by day that I am an honorable man and worthy of y our trus t?"
She did not ans wer him at once. Ins tead, s he rais ed her ey es to the glorious s uns et painting the
wes tern s ky with molten gold and s uffus ing the earth with a s oft, s himmering light. She looked
around at the green trees growing clos e to the riv er and at the pale, s andy beaches that s howed
here and there along the riv er' s edge. The rowboat had drifted s lowly downs tream until they were
almos t lev el with the beach from which they had s et forth. Clary s aw a fis h leap out of the water to
catch a hov ering ins ect and watched the ripples s pread outward after the fis h s ank back into the
water. She had grown to lov e the farm, and the land and riv er around it. She cared deeply about
the people who liv ed on Afon Farm. She knew that s he was perilous ly clos e to falling madly in
lov e with the mas ter of Afon Farm and that in letting hers elf
lov e him s he would be taking the bigges t ris k of her life. W as he hones t? Or was ev ery thing he
had s aid to her s ince the firs t day s he had arriv ed at Bohemia Village a lie? She s hiv ered a little,
thinking of what he had done to her in the hour jus t pas t and of what they might do together in the
future. And then s he gav e all her qualms and all her fears to the riv er and let it take them away .
Only when s he had made her decis ion did s he meet his ey es once more.
"Yes ," s he s aid. "I' ll giv e y ou the chance. I will trus t y ou."
Clary knew that, if Luke had not come running onto the beach jus t as Jack helped her out of the
rowboat, s he and Jack would v ery likely hav e s pread out the blanket and lain down on it to make
lov e. She was trembling with renewed need for his touch and he, after a deep and pas s ionate
kis s upon hearing her declaration of trus t, had climbed onto the bench and rowed them to s hore
with his ey es locked on hers , s av e for an occas ional quick glance ov er his s houlder to be s ure
he was heading in the right direction. As the rowboat ground s oftly into the s and, Clary licked her
parched lips , thinking of Jack' s kis s es and of his hands cares s ing her. She was certain that her
heated emotions mus t be written upon her face for him to s ee. Furthermore, s eated where s he
was , s he could hardly av oid noticing the ev idence of his continuing des ire for her.
"Jack," s he whis pered.

"Yes , Clary . I know." His v oice was weighted with meaning. He leaned toward her, letting his
hands mov e from her s houlders to her breas ts and downward to her wais t. There his hands
remained, urging her upward. Then he was s tanding on the damp s and and s he was balanced in
the boat with one hand on his s houlder, ex pecting him to pick her up and carry her to drier
ground.
Luke chos e that moment to race out of the trees and onto the beach.
"Mis ter Jack," he y elled, panting, "my daddy s ay s to come quick. The ches tnut mare' s taken real
s ick. Daddy thinks it might be a bad cas e of colic."
"It' s all right, Luke. Stop and catch y our breath." Turning to Clary , Jack added in a lower tone, "I
am s orry , but this is important."
"Of cours e it is ," s he agreed. She could s ee how regretfully he was s etting as ide pas s ion, and
s he felt that s he could do no les s . She, too, was s orry they would not make lov e, but s he was not
hurt or angry about it. This was not Rich try ing to av oid her. This was Jack, and s he could tell he
wanted to be with her and that it was an effort for him to res ume s o quickly his role as
res pons ible gentleman farmer. The knowledge was like balm to her none-too-s ecure feminine
ego. "W e can be together another time. I know how v aluable the hors es are. You can' t afford to
los e one. Tell me what I can do to help."
"You could dis pos e of the remains of our picnic." As he s poke, Jack was pulling the rowboat
out of the water. He handed the bas ket and her hat to Clary and gav e the blanket to Luke.
"Forgiv e me for leav ing y ou s o abruptly , but I ought to get to the barn at once. Mos es does not
call for help without good reas on."
"I do unders tand," s he s aid, adding with a laugh that s he hoped he would find encouraging, "I will
leav e Sarah' s kitchen as clean as I find it."
"Thank y ou, Clary ." She knew it was n' t jus t the promis e about the kitchen for which he was
thanking her. He was grateful to her for agreeing that he ought to do what his pos ition as owner of
Afon Farm required of him and for not rais ing petty objections ov er his departure. Jack s poke to
Luke. "Es cort Mis s Clary s afely to the kitchen and help her there for as long as s he needs y ou.
Afterward, y ou may join y our father and me in the barn." W ith a quick s mile for Clary , Jack s et off
on the path between the trees , followed at a more leis urely pace by Clary and Luke.
"Go on, Luke," Clary s aid to him as s oon as they came out of the trees and onto the open
farmland. "I know y ou want to be in the barn with the other men."
"You s ure, Miz Clary ?" His y outhful face lit up when s he linked him with the men. He s tood
bouncing from foot to foot in his eagernes s to be gone, y et s he knew he would not leav e her
unles s s he urged him.
"I am pos itiv e." Clary took the blanket from him. "Tell Mis ter Jack that I will make a pot

of coffee and leav e it on the s tov e in cas e y ou need s omething later to help y ou s tay awake.
Now, go."
"Thanks , Miz Clary . You know, we men might hav e to s tay up all night long with that hors e." Luke
took off acros s the fields at a run.
An hour later, with her kitchen chores completed, Clary pumped water for a quick bath. Hoping
that Jack would s oon join her, s he us ed the ros e-s cented s oap. But he did not appear and after a
while s he got into her bed to wait for him. Her mind s till filled with memories of his lov emaking,
s he fell as leep lis tening for his familiar s tep in the hall.
Chapter Eight
As Luke had predicted, the menfolk were compelled to s pend the entire night in the barn with the
ailing ches tnut mare. Thus , Clary s us pected that ex haus tion might hav e caus ed the accident, for
it was not like Jack to be careles s about his work.
Clary was in the hous e s traightening her room when s he heard Luke' s v oice rais ed in
ex citement, followed by Mos es ' s quieter tones . Hurry ing to the back door s he s aw Jack walking
acros s the brick courty ard between the other two. She did not at firs t notice the bloods tained cloth
wrapped around Jack' s left forearm below his rolled-up s hirts leev e, but s he could tell that
s omething was wrong.
" W hat is it?" s he as ked. "W hat' s happened?"
The men paus ed when s he left the v eranda and approached them.
"Mis ter Jack was trimmin' a piece of harnes s

while we were s ittin' with the hors e," Luke ex plained, s till in that high-pitched, ex cited v oice. "The
knife s lipped and he s tabbed hims elf. There' s blood all ov er the s tall."
"It was nothing," Jack ins is ted. "The hors es were more ups et by the blood than I am."
"No wound inflicted in a barn could pos s ibly be called incons equential," Clary told him. "Mos es ,
take him to the kitchen. I hav e a pot of water heating on the s tov e already . W e can us e it to was h
out the wound. Luke, bring s ome more wood for the s tov e."
"I thought I could jus t go to my room and was h it off in the bas in," Jack s aid. "Or perhaps beneath
the pump. All it needs is a little fres h water and a tight bandage."
"I was right about y ou, Jack." Clary took him firmly by the left elbow, ignoring his wince of pain at
the s udden ges ture. Relentles s ly , s he s teered him toward the kitchen door.
"Right about what?" he as ked, try ing uns ucces s fully to pull away from her.
"You are craz y . Either that or y ou hav e no common s ens e at all," s he s aid as s he pus hed him
into the kitchen. "Sit down and put y our arm on the table and let me look at the wound."
"Yes , madam." Meekly , Jack s eated hims elf.
"Miz Clary , I thought all ladies fainted at the s ight of blood." Luke dumped an armload of wood
onto the floor and began feeding the logs into the cooks tov e.
"Not this woman," Clary s aid. "Nor would y our mother faint either. Luke, as s oon as y ou get that
fire burning well, fill another kettle with fres h water and put it on the s tov e to heat along with the
firs t pan." She pulled the cloth off Jack' s arm and looked at the gas h.
"You did a bang-up job of it," s he told him. "Mos es , hand me the big bas in from the s helf ov er
there. That' s right. Now, Jack, I am going to let y ou bleed into the bas in for a while to help clean
out the wound before I s crub it with s oap and water. Let' s get rid of this bloody cloth."
"You' re right about cuttin' human fles h in a barn, Miz Clary ," Mos es s aid. "I' v e s een s maller cuts
than that fes ter up till a man' s arm had to be taken off."
"At leas t this is n' t a puncture wound," Clary s aid. "If it were, I' d be s cared to death about tetanus ."
"It s ure is bleedin' s teady like." Luke peered ov er Clary ' s s houlder to s ee.
"All right, guy s , pay attention now." Clary s traightened to look at them one by one. "This is a
problem I do know s omething about becaus e a long time ago I us ed to be a medical as s is tant, s o
y ou men are going to follow my orders on this . Luke, y our job is to keep that s tov e going and at
leas t two kettles of water boiling. Mos es , where is Sarah?"
"Mos t likely in our cottage," Mos es s aid. "She alway s s tay s quiet on Sunday s ."
" W ell, we are going to hav e to interrupt her. She' s a s ens ible woman; s he' ll unders tand. Find her,
Mos es . Tell her I want a large needle, a s pool of s trong white thread, and the cleanes t white
fabric s he has for bandages . Come back

here as s oon as y ou deliv er my mes s age, Mos es , and bring the s upplies with y ou."
"Yes , Miz Clary ." Mos es did not ques tion the way s he was taking charge.
"Mis tres s Clary ," Jack s aid, "I do not wis h to s eem ov erly s queamis h, or to complain when y ou
are try ing to help me, but I do hav e a certain av ers ion to watching my lifeblood draining away into
a kitchen bas in. Perhaps if y ou were to replace the cloth Mos es us ed and allow me to pres s down
on it, I could s top the bleeding and s av e y ou the trouble of hav ing to s ew up my arm."
"Not on y our life," Clary told him. "That cloth came from the barn, s o it mus t be loaded with
germs ."
"Germs ?" He gav e her an amus ed look. "W hat, pray tell, are germs ?"
"Bacteria," s he replied. "Microbes . Organis ms too s mall to s ee with the naked ey e, y et powerful
enough to caus e a mas s iv e infection. W hat y ou need is a couple of s hots of antibiotics . Not to
mention a tetanus s hot, jus t to be on the s afe s ide."
"Fas cinating," he murmured, s till amus ed in s pite of her s erious nes s .
" W hat y ou are going to get ins tead is a couple of s hots of Kentucky whis key ," s he informed him.
"Some of it y ou will drink to numb the pain, becaus e the s titching-up proces s is going to hurt like
hell, and s ome I will us e to was h out the wound. It' s hars h s tuff, but it' s the bes t dis infectant we
hav e."
"Couldn' t I jus t drink it all?" he as ked. "It does s eem a pity to was te any of it on my arm when
water will do as well."
"This is n' t funny , Jack." She glared at him, her fear for him trans formed into anger. "I' ll jus t bet
y ou and y our friends back in England all s ay idiotic things like that before y ou ride into battle.
And no doubt, s ick jokes along that line are als o required before y ou fight a duel-- or better y et,
afterward, while y ou lie bleeding to death on the gras s at dawn."
He went perfectly s till for a minute or two before he res ponded. W hen he s poke his v oice held an
odd note of des pair beneath the continuing, defiant humor.
"I hav e nev er ridden into battle," he s aid. "I fear I was a trifle too y oung for the Napoleonic W ars ."
"Be s erious , Jack," s he admonis hed.
" W ill s erious nes s heal my arm or prev ent the infection y ou dread?" he as ked.
"No, it won' t." She s at down acros s the table from him, clas ping her hands together on the pine
s urface. "Jack, I' m going to be perfectly hones t with y ou. I am worried. In my time, with good care
and antibiotics , a wound like this wouldn' t be a life-threatening problem."
"I know y ou will do y our bes t for me." He reached out to her with his right hand, lay ing it ov er her
clas ped fingers , where they res ted on the tabletop. "You s ee, I trus t y ou, Clary ."

"My bes t may not be good enough." Her v oice was tightly controlled becaus e s he was afraid her
feelings for him would get in the way of what s he was going to hav e to do in the nex t hour. He
didn' t des erv e any of the crippling pos s ibilities that Clary could fores ee. Jack Martin ought to
continue to be whole and in v ital health, s triding acros s his fields and giv ing orders to Mos es
and Luke. He ought to s it tall and s trong at the head of his mahogany dining table, pouring out
Madeira wine at the end of a meal. And he needed two good arms to put around her when they
made lov e--becaus e they were going to make lov e. Only his death or her return to the twentieth
century could prev ent them.
"I unders tand y our apprehens ions . I s hare them." The warm s mile he bes towed on Clary made
her wonder if he could read her mind. "I put my s elf into y our hands without res erv ation and
without fear."
"I hav e nev er actually s ewn up a wound my s elf," s he admitted, "but I hav e as s is ted the doctor I
worked for lots of times . Jack, I want to warn y ou again: with only whis key for anes thetic, it is
going to be terribly painful."
"I know that. I can bear it. I hav e borne wors e."
"All right, then." There was no one els e on the farm who unders tood the real dangers as well as
s he, and no one els e who knew the methods to us e to prev ent a s ev ere infection. There was no
point in wis hing for the twentieth-century equipment and medicine s he did not hav e. She
could only do her bes t for Jack and pray that he would recov er. She began to ris e from the table,
but he held her where s he was , his hand tight on hers and his v oice taking on a new urgency .
"Clary , let me s ay s omething while Luke is out at the pump and before Mos es returns . If the
outcome of this is not as we would wis h, y ou will find papers in the bottom drawer of the ches t in
my bedchamber. They will prov ide proof that Mos es and his family are all free, if any proof is
needed bey ond what they already hav e in their own pos s es s ion. You will als o find in the ches t
my will and ins tructions on what is to be done with the farm."
"I' ll s ee to it." There was no point in protes ting that he would be jus t fine; they both knew his
pros pects might be grim. She lifted the hand that cov ered hers and pres s ed it to her lips . "I' m
glad we met, Jack Martin."
"Not half s o glad as I am," he res ponded. "Now do y ou think y ou could repair my arm without
further delay ?"
"I hav e been waiting for Sarah," s he s aid, jus t as Sarah came through the kitchen door.
"I' m right here. I' v e brought the needle and thread and the clean bandages y ou wanted--oh,
Mis ter Jack, what hav e y ou done to y ours elf?" Sarah s hook her head ov er his wound before
s ending a worried glance in Clary ' s direction. She s aid nothing at all about the dis order in her
immaculate kitchen. "Tell me what y ou want me to do, Miz Clary ."

"Thread the needle with a doubled length of thread," Clary ins tructed. "Make it three times longer
than the gas h in his arm. Put the needle and thread and the s harpes t knife y ou hav e into the
boiling water. Then was h Jack' s arm with s oap and hot water, while I was h my hands ."
Quickly they made the preparations . Clary s crubbed her hands with the hottes t water s he could
bear and Sarah' s s tronges t s oap. W hen s he thought the needle and thread had boiled long
enough, s he told Mos es to giv e Jack two big glas s es of whis key .
"If y ou want more, jus t s ay s o, and Mos es will giv e it to y ou," s he s aid to Jack. "Now, Sarah, pour
whis key ov er the cut and the s urrounding arm. Do it s lowly . I don' t want to touch any thing y et
my s elf becaus e my hands are clean."
Jack groaned when the whis key met the open fles h, but he kept his arm ov er the bas in.
"Now, Jack," Clary s aid, "take y our arm off the bas in and lay it down on the clean cloth Sarah has
arranged. Mos es , hold his s houlders . Sarah, hold his hand s teady , but don' t touch him abov e the
wris t."
"There is no need to hold me. I will not mov e," Jack promis ed.
"You won' t be able to s top y ours elf," s he s aid. "It' s a reflex to pull away from whatev er caus es
pain."
Taking the needle and thread out of the water, s he began to lay down s utures , drawing the s ides
of the wound together, making s ecure knots and us ing the s harp kitchen knife to cut the thread
after each s titch. Fortunately , the gas h in Jack' s arm, though a good four inches long, was not
v ery deep. It inv olv ed no large blood v es s els , nor was the mus cle tis s ue badly damaged. Clary
worked as quickly as s he could, not looking at Jack' s face at all becaus e s he didn' t want to s ee
how badly s he was hurting him. He made no s ound, but s he could s ens e how rigidly he was
holding his entire body and once or twice s he heard him grit his teeth.
"Miz Clary , why do y ou keep cuttin' the thread after ev ery s titch?" as ked Luke, who was watching
what s he did with great interes t.
"Becaus e after the wound heals I will cut the s titches , then take hold of the knots and pull out the
threads one by one," s he replied, making her ex planation as s imple as pos s ible. "That will
prev ent the s titches from becoming infected later." If there is a later for Jack, s he added to
hers elf. If he does n' t die of blood pois oning or los e his arm to gangrene.
Hearing Jack moan, s he paus ed before taking another s titch and looked at him in s urpris e. So far,
he had endured the pain in s ilence.
"Do y ou want more whis key ?" s he as ked him.
"Not at the moment," he s aid, "but I fear I will hav e to order a new barrel in preparation for y our
future s urgical activ ities . Are y ou s ay ing that, after I endure the putting in of thes e s titches , I mus t
als o s urv iv e their remov al?"
"Sorry about that, but it can' t be helped." She tried to s peak as lightly and teas ingly as he had
jus t done. "Look at it this way , Jack: if y our

wound heals cleanly , y ou will be s o grateful to me that y ou won' t mind the dis comfort."
" W ill I not?" he murmured.
"Hold s till now. Jus t another s titch or two and we' re finis hed." A few moments later s he knotted
and cut the las t s titch. "I think a little more antis eptic is in order before I put on the bandage. A
glas s of whis key if y ou pleas e, Luke."
"Yes , ma' am." Luke filled the glas s and handed it to her. Clary dipped a clean white cloth into the
glas s and s wabbed Jack' s forearm from elbow to wris t.
" W hat a was te of good whis key ." He s poke through gritted teeth, and s he knew he couldn' t take
much more pain. She was amaz ed that he hadn' t pas s ed out after the firs t couple of s titches .
Quickly s he wrapped the wound in one of the bandages that Sarah had prov ided, and then s he
looked from Mos es to Luke.
"If y ou two gentlemen would help me get our patient to bed," s he s aid, "then I think we can
declare the operation a s ucces s .
"Sarah." Clary looked from the mes s on the kitchen table to the hous ekeeper. Sarah wav ed her
away .
"You go on, Miz Clary . I know y ou' ll want to s it with him. And don' t y ou worry about my kitchen.
Mis ter Jack' s life is more important."
Jack ins is ted he could walk unaided, but he was dis tinctly uns teady on his feet and Clary was
grateful to Mos es and Luke for s tay ing clos e on either s ide of him. Once in his bedroom they
s tripped him down to his calf-length
linen underdrawers and tucked him into bed. He did not protes t the as s is tance. Clary noted that
he was pale and his s kin felt clammy . He s oon drifted into a light doz e.
"Any thin' we can get for him?" Mos es as ked, s ending an anx ious look in Clary ' s direction. "Or for
y ou?"
"A pitcher of fres h water," s he s aid, "and a clean cloth from Sarah, if y ou pleas e. He will probably
s pike a fev er, s o I will want to wipe him down occas ionally to keep him cool."
"I' ll be glad to do that. Young unmarried ladies s houldn' t be handlin' men' s bodies ."
"I hav e taken care of other s ick men in the pas t. There is nothing the leas t bit improper in it." She
was n' t going to tell Mos es that s he was not an unmarried lady as he thought. She patted his arm,
unders tanding his need to do s omething to help. She felt the s ame way about Jack. "I will take
good care of him, and I' ll call y ou if I need any thing. You hav e been v ery helpful, Mos es . You,
too, Luke."
"Could I be a doctor when I grow up?" Luke as ked. "I' d s ure like to learn to fix wounds the way
y ou jus t did."
" W e' ll talk about it s ometime s oon," s he promis ed. "You will hav e to learn to read and write
firs t."
She promptly forgot Luke' s interes t in medicine, for Jack became fev eris h and res tles s . Through
the night s he was hed his face repeatedly with cool water and bathed his ches t, too, hoping thus
to lower the fev er. W hen he began

to pick at the bandage on his arm, s he took his right hand in hers and s at on the edge of his bed,
holding his hand and talking to him. She did not think he heard her. He was los t in his own world
of fev eris h pain and memory .
"Philly ," he muttered. "Don' t s ay that. Dead? He can' t die. No--bes t friend I ev er--I won' t let
him--damn it! No--no!"
"Jack!" Clary began to wonder if s he would hav e to call Mos es to hold him down. Jack was too
s trong for her to control. She was practically s itting on his ches t and he was s till thras hing
around, his mov ements threatening to throw hims elf and her off the bed and onto the floor. "Jack,
wake up. It' s me. It' s Clary ."
"Clary ?" His ey es were open but they were focus ed on s omething bey ond her s ight. "Impos s ible
s tory --s houldn' t believ e. Mouth s o s weet. Skin like s ilk. I want y ou, Clary .
"Bloody bas tard!" he s houted a moment later. "Us e a woman like that. W hy ? Kill him! Oh, God, it
hurts !"
"I know, Jack. I know." She put her arms around him and he turned gentle, nes tling his face
agains t her breas ts . "Try to s leep, dear."
He lay quietly for a while, and Clary s tarted to relax . She ran a hand through his tangled hair,
s moothing it back from his face.
"Damned unfair," he s aid s uddenly . And then he began to s hiv er. Clary cov ered him with the quilt
from his own bed. W hen he continued to s hake s he pulled open the connecting door
between their rooms and hurried into her bedchamber to take the quilt off her bed. She s topped
jus t ins ide her room and turned around to look more clos ely at that door. There was a lock on it,
but no key on either s ide. She had nev er tried the door, jus t as s uming that it was locked.
Jack could hav e entered her room on any night. He wanted her, y et he had res trained hims elf.
She recalled his words about not rus hing matters , and s he knew he had been thinking of her
welfare rather than of what he des ired.
"I wis h y ou had come to me," s he whis pered, looking through the doorway to where he lay ,
s haking on his bed. "If y ou die now, we will nev er know what it would hav e been like. After what
y ou did for me y es terday afternoon, I think it would hav e been bey ond any thing I ev er imagined."
He cried out again, s houting s omething about Philly or Philadelphia. Clary hurried to him and
tucked the quilt around him. Gradually the s hiv ering s topped, but then he began to complain of
the heat, s o s he remov ed the quilts and bathed him in cool water again.
Sometime during the s ilent hours of the night his fev er broke and he fell into a deep s leep. Clary
watched him for a while until ex haus tion caught up with her, too. She wanted to lie down bes ide
him. But s he was afraid s he might dis turb him, and s he knew he required res t abov e all els e jus t
then. Leav ing the door between their rooms wide open s he s tretched out, s till clothed, on her own
bed. Her las t waking thought was

that s he would do any thing to s ee Jack Martin well and happy again.
He was awake and alert the nex t morning, though he was pale and, Clary s us pected, much
weaker than he wanted her to know. She was jus t leav ing his bedchamber with a pitcher in her
hand, headed for the pump, when Mos es appeared, als o with a pitcher, his brimming ov er with
fres h water. "Sarah s ay s for y ou to go to the kitchen and eat breakfas t right now," Mos es s aid.
"I' ll s tay with Mis ter Jack while y ou' re gone. There' s things I can do for him that he wouldn' t want
a woman doin' ." "I s uppos e y ou' re right, but make him s tay in bed."
She s hould hav e known that Jack wouldn' t obey that order. W hen s he returned to his room an
hour later carry ing a fres h s upply of bandages , he was s itting on the s ide of his bed and he was
wearing his breeches . "He won' t lis ten to me, Miz Clary ," Mos es s aid as s oon as he s aw her.
"May be y ou can tell him to lay down again."
"I refus e to be s hav ed while ly ing in bed," Jack declared. "No offens e to y ou, Mos es , but I can do
a better job of it my s elf while s tanding upright. If y ou would jus t help me with my boots --" "You
get back into bed!" Clary marched right up to him and gav e him a hard s hov e on the ches t. Jack
did not mov e. He didn' t ev en wav er. Lov e Jus t in Time
"I hav e work to do," he s aid.
"Not in the fields ," Mos es told him. "It' s rainin' hard."
"Rain nev er s topped me before," Jack replied.
"There' s nothin' to pick today ' cept corn, and Luke can do that," Mos es argued. "You s tay indoors
like Miz Clary wants . If y ou catch the lung fev er, we' ll all be runnin' around try in' to s av e y ou
again." "There s peaks a wis e man," Clary s aid. "As y our primary care giv er, I mus t ins is t that
y ou s how s ome common s ens e and s tay indoors . There is a mons oon going on out there." She
wav ed a hand toward the window, inv iting him to s ee for hims elf. "Very well." Jack looked from
Clary to Mos es and back again, apparently comprehending that they were going to join forces to
prev ent him if he tried to leav e the hous e. "I ought to s pend a few hours working on the ledgers . I
will do that today ." "You ought to be in bed," Clary ins is ted.
" W ritin' in books is better than workin' in the fields or tendin' the hors es ," Mos es put in. "' Leas t
he' ll s tay dry if he' s in the hous e writin' ." "How is the ches tnut?" Jack as ked him.
"Gettin' better, jus t like y ou will if y ou do what Miz Clary s ay s . Hors es hav e s ens e enough to
s tay in their s talls when they ' re ailin' . I jus t wis h y ou had the s ame kind of s ens e, Mis ter Jack."
W ith that, Mos es s tamped out. "My boots pleas e," Jack commanded Clary .

"I refus e. If y ou feel ill and hav e to lie down, I will only hav e to pull the boots off y ou again Don' t
y ou own any s lippers ?"
Looking around s he dis cov ered a pair of s oft-s oled woolen mules tucked beneath a magnificent
Philadelphia highboy made of finely grained mahogany . She gav e the tall ches t of drawers only a
curs ory glance, s ince s he was more interes ted in s eeing Jack properly clothed agains t the
dampnes s than in admiring the pediment that topped the ches t or the lov ely carv ed s hell motifs
that decorated its apron and the tops of its legs . Howev er, s he did look clos ely at the s lippers
when s he picked them up, noting that they were handmade. Each s lipper had a cres t embroidered
on the toe in red, green, and gold threads .
"Thes e are v ery pretty ." Clary s lid the mules onto Jack' s feet. His feet were like his hands , long
and s lender and elegant. Still in a s quatting pos ition, s he looked up at him "Did s omeone
embroider thes e es pecially for y ou?"
"I wear them becaus e they are comfortable." He s tood up, leaning agains t the carv ed mahogany
bedpos t for s upport.
"Take it eas y ," Clary adv is ed. "Don' t mov e too fas t. If y ou faint, I will hav e to call Mos es back to
lift y ou into bed again, and if that happens , I warn y ou, I will make y ou s tay there until tomorrow,
ev en if I hav e to tie y ou down to force y ou to obey me."
"Madam, I hav e nev er fainted in my life. If y ou will ex cus e me now, I intend to s hav e." Carefully
he mov ed toward the was hs tand. "I s aid y ou may go, Clary ."
"Do y ou need any thing?" Still s he lingered, unwilling to leav e him alone. She knew what pain and
fev er could do to a patient, s o s he did not believ e that he was feeling as well as he claimed.
"Mos es has prov ided what I require," he s aid.
"Call me when y ou are finis hed and I' ll change y our bandage before I help y ou with y our s hirt."
He did not ans wer. He was working up a lather, us ing a knob-handled brus h in a s mall bowl of
s oap. Clary s us pected that he was weak enough to hav e to us e all of his av ailable energy for
what he was doing, leav ing nothing to ex pend on conv ers ation. She went into her own room,
pus hed the door half clos ed, and pretended to be tidy ing her belongings until he s ummoned her
back.
She made him s it on the bed again while s he remov ed the bandage from his forearm. There was
s ome rednes s along the wound, but ov erall it did not look badly infected. Clary began to hope it
might heal cleanly .
"Hurrah for good Kentucky whis key ," s he muttered.
" W ell?" Jack as ked. "W ill it be completely healed by a week from W ednes day ?"
"Of cours e not." She gav e him a s harp look. "W hat' s s o important about nex t W ednes day ?"
"It is the day I leav e."
"Leav e the farm?" She gaped at him. "W here are y ou going?"

"I hav e bus ines s along the canal," he s aid, "and then in W ilmington and Philadelphia. I s hould
be gone for a little more than two weeks ."
"So that' s what y ou were talking about." She began to rewrap his arm with a clean bandage.
" W hat do y ou mean?" he as ked. "I do not recall informing y ou of my planned journey ."
"You were babbling las t night when y ou were fev eris h. You mentioned Philly s ev eral times ."
"Philly ?" He looked s tartled, then puz z led. Then he laughed. "Is that what y ou call Philadelphia in
y our time?"
"Hav en' t y ou heard the term before?" She I s topped wrapping the bandage to look hard at [ him.
"If not, why did y ou us e it when y ou were delirious ?"
"Perhaps y ou mentioned it, Clary ."
"Perhaps . I could hav e." He was being ev as iv e and they both knew it. But why s hould he be
s ecretiv e about the nickname for a city ? It didn' t make s ens e to Clary .
"I would like y ou to remov e the s titches before I leav e," he s aid.
"I can' t decide about that until I s ee how quickly y our arm heals ," s he replied. "Jack, may I go
with y ou? I would lov e to s ee Philadelphia the way it us ed to be."
"It is impos s ible. I will s pend s ev eral day s along the canal, and there would be no place for y ou
to s tay . In the cities , I will be preoccupied with bus ines s ."
"I don' t mind camping out at the canal," s he s aid, "and I could wander around by my s elf in
W ilmington and Philadelphia."
"No, y ou could not. This is not y our time, Clary . In this time, gentlewomen do not wander around
unes corted."
"Do y ou ex pect me to s tay here at the farm forev er?" s he cried. "I am us ed to being more mobile
than that."
"Ah, y es . In y our car, the machine y ou ran into the canal."
"That was an accident. I am not going to s tay here while y ou go off to the big city to enjoy
y ours elf."
"Oh, y es , y ou are. Philadelphia is an unhealthy place in the s ummer heat, with y ellow fev er and
the s weating s icknes s . No, it would be too dangerous for y ou, Clary ." He caught her by the upper
arms and pus hed her down on the bed. He winced when he bumped his left arm, but the
dis comfort didn' t s top him. She lay beneath him, his bare ches t pres s ing on her breas ts , his
mouth jus t a breath away from hers . He s melled of bay rum and Sarah' s homemade s oap. All of
Clary ' s s ens es came ins tantly aliv e, clamoring for his embrace. Until he s poke again. "W hile I
am gone, I want to know that y ou are s afe here, waiting for me to return."
"Of all the male-chauv inis tic comments I hav e ev er heard, that was one of the wors t," s he told
him, dis appointment and irritation dis pelling any s ofter emotions . "W hy s hould I hav e to

wait for y ou? And down on the farm, no les s ! W hy can' t I go with y ou?"
"I hav e told y ou why not." He grinned at her. "Tell me, Clary , ex actly what is a primary care
giv er? The phras e s ugges ts interes ting pos s ibilities ."
"In y our cas e it refers to the fact that I am the one who is s eeing to y our wound," s he s aid,
momentarily div erted from her annoy ance with his antediluv ian attitude toward women.
" ' Tis but a narrow definition. W ould y ou like to hear the activ ities I would include under that
term?"
"I can imagine what they are." She lifted a hand to s troke his fres hly s hav en cheek. "You are the
mos t ex as perating and the mos t complicated man I hav e ev er met. You teas e when y ou ought to
be s erious . You won' t talk about y ours elf. You do more work than any two men."
"I want y ou more than any other two men pos s ibly could," he s aid.
"You hav e been injured," s he objected.
" W hat does that s ignify ? It' s not my left arm that will be inv olv ed in making lov e to y ou, Clary ."
"In y our weakened condition--"
"I do not feel at all weak when y ou are near." He s hifted his pos ition, letting her ex perience his
hardnes s and s trength. Clary s lid her arms around his neck and parted her lips , awaiting his
kis s .
"Howev er," he s aid, s itting up and mov ing away from her, "perhaps it would be adv is able
for me to wait a while, in order to prev ent the depletion of my v ital energies s o s oon after
s urgery . Particularly s ince my primary care giv er is s erious ly concerned about my condition."
"You ins ufferable teas e!" Clary pus hed hers elf off the bed to s tand with fis ts on hips . He caught
her right hand, pulling it to his mouth. He placed a kis s in her palm and curled her fingers around
it while Clary ' s irritation melted once more and her frus tration lev el ros e by s ev eral notches .
"If y ou will as s is t me in donning my s hirt, Mis tres s Clary , I feel certain that will be all the
s eduction my poor, decimated body can bear for the moment." He s tood, forcing her to look up at
him, and then he bent to kis s her lips quickly and lightly . "You mus t unders tand, my dear, that
Mos es or Sarah or ev en Luke may appear at any moment, ex pecting to find me s tretched out
upon my deathbed. W hat would they think-- Sarah in particular, if s he comes bearing tea and hot
s oup to s trengthen me in my weaknes s -- what would they s ay if they were to dis cov er y ou
making pas s ionate lov e to a man who is des perately ill with a raging fev er? They would believ e
that y ou were taking unfair adv antage of a dy ing man and think much les s of y ou for it. For I do
as s ure y ou, Clary , I hav e been s haken by a v iolent fev er that rages in my blood day and night."
"It s erv es y ou right for teas ing me like that, though I mus t admit I s ee y our point." Clary picked up
the s hirt ly ing folded at the foot of his bed. She held it out to him. "I s ugges t that

y ou put on the left s leev e firs t. Jack, y ou do look pale. Are y ou s ure y ou feel well enough to get
dres s ed?"
Ins tead of ans wering her, he grabbed for the bedpos t and s tood weav ing, his face s uddenly chalk
white and beaded with pers piration.
"Jack!" Dropping the s hirt, s he caught him, s linging his right arm ov er her s houlder. "Come on.
Don' t pas s out on me y et. Get into bed firs t. Jack, will y ou pleas e help me?"
"Doing--my --bes t." But he was too weak to be of much as s is tance and Clary ended up heav ing
him forward onto the mattres s . She landed bes ide him with his arm holding her down.
"Tis but a momentary light-headednes s ," he murmured. "I s hall recov er s oon and then I will be
able to ris e again."
"Ris e?" She s hov ed his arm off her s houlder and s at up. "W ill y ou pleas e jus t knock off the
comedy and this macho-man routine? Lis ten to me, Jack Martin. You are s ick. Do y ou
unders tand? Sick, as in fev eris h and weak from an injury . You are going to s tay right here in this
bed until I s ay y ou hav e recov ered." She pulled his s lippers off his feet and angrily threw them
acros s the room. "If y ou had lis tened to me in the firs t place, this wouldn' t hav e happened. Let
me look at y our arm."
" W hy ?" His ey es were clos ed, dark las hes res ting agains t the pale s kin of a curious ly y outhful
face. Clary repres s ed her des ire to s troke his mouth and to pus h his loos e hair back off his
forehead.
"Becaus e with all the mov ing around y ou' v e been doing y ou may hav e torn a s titch." After
as s uring hers elf that no further damage had been done to his arm, s he rewrapped the bandage
and s at looking at him. Since he had been ly ing down for a few minutes , his color was much
better.
"By y our s tern ex pres s ion, I fores ee a lecture," he s aid, watching her.
"You des erv e one," s he told him. Lifting a warning finger to prev ent him from s peaking again,
s he went on. "If y ou hav e any common s ens e at all, which I am s erious ly beginning to doubt, y ou
will unders tand after this little incident that y ou are not well enough to be out of bed. If y ou will
jus t s tay put for today , I may allow y ou to get up tomorrow."
" W hat reward will y ou giv e me if I obey y ou?" he as ked.
"You will get y our health back," s he s napped. "That s hould be reward enough." Sliding off the
bed and keeping her back toward him, s he added, "Howev er, y ou can' t lie there all day in y our
breeches . Unfas ten them and I will help y ou to pull them off. But s tay flat on y our back. If y ou
s tand up and get diz z y again, I s wear I will let y ou s tay on the floor."
"You could call Mos es to help y ou," he s ugges ted.
"Mos es is too bus y to s pend the entire day looking after a man who does n' t hav e the brains of a
flea," s he retorted.
" W ould y ou as s is t me now?" He s ounded remarkably humble and contrite. Clary s pun

around, ex pecting more teas ing and nons ens e from him, only to find him s truggling to pus h his
unbuttoned breeches down ov er his hips . She caught them at the wais t and s lid the breeches
along his legs , fully aware of his well-dev eloped mus cles beneath her fingers .
"Shall I remov e my underdrawers , too?" he as ked, s till in that humble v oice.
"Certainly , if y ou will be more comfortable with them off," s he s aid, her ey es on the breeches s he
was folding. "Don' t be modes t on my account."
"You were frightened for my s ake, weren' t y ou? You thought I was going to fall and hurt my s elf.
Clary , come here." He held out his right hand.
"I don' t think I s hould." She s tay ed well out of his reach.
"In my weakened condition, I would be hard put to ov erpower y ou, s hould y ou choos e to res is t
me," he s aid.
" W hy can' t y ou be s erious for more than a few minutes at a time?" s he demanded, s till refus ing
to look at him. She laid the folded breeches down on the blanket ches t at the foot of tin-bed.
"I was completely s erious on Saturday afternoon," he replied.
She heard him mov ing around on the bed. Fearing that he was try ing to ris e and come after her,
s he ris ked a glance at him, only to dis cov er that he was wres tling with the pillows .
"Let me do that." She took the pillows from him, fluffed them up, and piled them at the head
of the bed. "Now jus t s lide y ours elf along until y ou are s itting agains t the pillows ."
He had apparently decided not to remov e his underdrawers , for which Clary was deeply grateful.
She did not know what s he would do if s he were confronted by the naked fles h s he could s ee
s training boldly upward agains t the linen. The ins tant he relax ed agains t the pillows s he pulled
the s heet ov er him right up to his armpits . She ex pected a knowing grin from him, but he
remained s erious .
"Clary , tell me the truth. I know I was mis erably ill las t night. Do y ou think the fev er is a recurrent
thing? W ill it attack me ev ery night, weakening me a little more each time until it kills me? I hav e
s een other men die that way . If it is to happen to me, I want to know s o that I can put my affairs
into order while I am s till lucid."
"The fev er y ou s uffered las t night was a natural reaction to being injured and to hav ing y our arm
repaired under nons terile conditions , but the wound does n' t look abnormally s wollen or red. If
y ou can get through the nex t couple of day s and it s tarts to heal well, then I think y ou s houldn' t
hav e any s erious trouble. You don' t hav e any problem mov ing y our fingers or y our hand, do
y ou?"
"Only a little, when the mus cle pulls ." He flex ed his left hand and wiggled his fingers for her to
s ee. "I ought to be back at work by tomorrow."
"Hav en' t y ou heard any thing I' v e s aid?" s he cried, ex as perated almos t bey ond endurance.

"You abs olutely mus t take it eas y and keep the wound clean until it heals properly . You hav e
been entirely too cas ual about this , Jack."
"I am not at all cas ual. Nor am I unappreciativ e of y our efforts on my behalf. I hav e no wis h to
los e my arm or my life. Not now. Not when I hav e s o recently dis cov ered how s urpris ingly s weet
life can be." She had mov ed clos er to the bed, s o he was able to reach her hand. "I hav e not
finis hed with y ou, Mis s Cummings . There is much more we need to s ay to each other, and
more--much more--for us to do together."
Chapter Nine
As Clary ex pected, Jack grew fev eris h again in the late afternoon. Through the night that followed,
s he repeatedly wiped his hot s kin with cool water. She thought the continuous rain and the humid
heat were making his condition wors e, and there was a time toward midnight when s he would
hav e giv en any thing s he pos s es s ed for a s mall air conditioner. But as had happened on the
prev ious night, the fev er broke and Jack fell into a deep s leep.
In the morning Sarah found Clary curled up at the foot of Jack' s bed. "You can' t go on like this ,
s tay in' up with him ev ery night!" Sarah ex claimed. "You' ll s oon be s ick y ours elf."
"The fev er was n' t as bad las t night," Clary s aid, s tretching her s tiff s houlders . "He was n' t
delirious . That' s a good s ign."
"You come to the kitchen now and eat. I' ll call Mos es to s tay with him for a while."

"I am not leav ing this room," Clary told her. "If Mos es is here, Jack will think he can get out of
bed. He will obey me if I ins is t that he s tay where he is ."
"That man don' t obey no one." Sarah cas t a reflectiv e glance toward the s leeping figure on the
bed. "Mis ter Jack alway s thinks he knows bes t, and us ually he does . If he lis tens to y ou, then
y ou are s omeone s pecial. None of us here on the the farm would dis pute that after the las t two
day s ."
"Let' s jus t s ay that I hav e conv inced Jack that I know more about treating wounds than he does .
Sarah, if y ou will bring food for both of us , I' ll s ee to it that he eats a good breakfas t."
W hen he awakened a s hort time later, Jack argued about wanting to s hav e, but ev entually he
gav e in when Clary promis ed that if he would obey her orders he would hav e to remain in bed for
only one day more.
"Howev er, I cannot lie here and do nothing," he ins is ted. "Bring me the ledger. It is in the bottom
drawer of the ches t. I will als o need my trav eling des k, which is in the parlor."
"All right, if it will keep y ou quiet," s he agreed, going to the highboy . The bottom drawer contained
not only the heav y bound ledger, but an as s ortment of other papers . Some of them looked like
letters . Res training her curios ity as to the contents of documents that might rev eal at leas t s ome
of the well-hidden facts of Jack' s life, Clary gav e him the ledger he wanted, then located his
trav eling des k. This was a wooden box
with a s lanted lid that was intended to be us ed as a writing s urface. In compartments beneath the
lid were paper, quill pens , a knife to s harpen the quills , and a tightly clos ed bottle of ink.
"Don' t open that," Clary warned when Jack picked up the ink bottle. "A s pill will s tain the s heets ."
"How, may I as k, am I ex pected to write in the ledger if I cannot us e ink?" His s harp res pons e
told Clary better than any other ev idence could hav e done that he was recov ering nicely . In her
ex perience, male patients who felt well alway s res ented being forced to remain in bed under
female s uperv is ion.
"I hav e an idea," s he told him. Hurry ing back to the parlor, s he returned carry ing a s mall table,
which s he placed nex t to the right s ide of the bed. W ith the ink and pens on the table in eas y
reach and Jack ens conced agains t a pile of pillows , he was able to work in relativ e eas e. Clary
left him there and s et about her daily chores .
By midafternoon Jack was growing increas ingly res tles s . After checking his arm to be s ure it was
healing with no s ign of s erious infection, Clary agreed that he might eat his ev ening meal in the
dining room. She ev en brought him a pitcher of hot water s o he could s hav e and was h.
Retiring to her own bedroom and clos ing the connecting door, Clary quickly changed into the only
other gown s he owned. She had torn the hem of the gray cotton dres s , which was her us ual
day time attire, and it would hav e to be mended

before s he could wear it again. Her other gown, the one s he s av ed to wear in the ev enings , was a
more elaborate affair. The tight, wide-necked bodice of blue-green s ilk had puffed, elbow-length
s leev es finis hed with embroidered ruffles . The white mus lin s kirt was gathered onto a wide
wais tband that was s et s ev eral inches higher than Clary ' s natural wais tline. All around the hem of
the s kirt a repeating pattern of blue flowers and green leav es was embroidered. Becaus e the s kirt
was s o s heer, Clary was forced to wear a cotton petticoat. She als o put on a s imple cotton
chemis e, but s he refus ed to wear either the cors et or the long drawers prov ided for her by
Madam Ros e.
Clary cons idered the ankle-length drawers to be an idiotic article of clothing. They were nothing
more than twin tubes of white cotton held together at the wais t only by a draws tring. The garment
had no center s eam. Clary s uppos ed this arrangement was conv enient when attending to the
wearer' s pers onal needs , but the drawers tended to twis t and bind around her legs in a hot and
irritating way . After her firs t attempt to be authentic and wear them, s he had folded up the drawers
and tucked them down at the bottom of the blanket ches t in her room. As for the cors et, s he would
hav e to be a madwoman to hook and lace hers elf into s uch an ins trument of torture. In s pite of all
the food s he was eating lately , s he remained s lender enough not to hav e to res train her figure in
order to fit into the dres s .
After completing her toilette by brus hing her hair hard and confining the thick dark curls behind
each ear with matching combs , Clary took her gray dres s and the needle and thread that Sarah
had giv en her and went acros s the hall to the parlor to work on the torn hem until Jack appeared.
The parlor was not a room that was us ed v ery much in the s ummertime, and the furnis hings did
not look as if they had been chos en with much cons ideration for what went with what. Agains t the
plain whitewas hed walls and uncurtained windows the elegant lov e-s eat-s iz e s ettee cov ered in
blue s ilk looked out of place, as did a wing chair uphols tered in multicolored crewelwork on a
pale background. There was a wooden foots tool in front of the wing chair, and a s mall round table
was between the chair and the fireplace, as if s omeone s at there regularly in cold weather. A pipe
and jar of tobacco added to the impres s ion that this was where the mas ter of the hous e s pent the
cooler ev enings . Clary had mov ed a s econd table from the parlor to the bedroom for Jack to us e.
She wis hed s he had that table back, becaus e s he needed to put a lighted candle on it in order to
s ee what s he was doing. The room was s o s hadowy that s he s tabbed her finger with the needle.
"Damn it!" s he muttered. "Oh, dear. Sorry , Madam Ros e. I really am try ing to watch my language,
but s ometimes it' s hard."
" W ere y ou s peaking to me?" Jack s tood in the hall doorway , looking frighteningly hands ome

in pale beige breeches , a white s hirt open at the neck, his embroidered woolen s lippers , and a
blue s ilk dres s ing gown. His hair was clubbed with a blue s ilk ribbon.
"I was talking to my s elf." Clary hoped he couldn' t s ee in her ey es what s he was thinking. Jack
Martin was eas ily the s ex ies t-looking man s he had ev er encountered and s he was amaz ed at
hers elf for the way he could make her feel jus t by coming into a room.
"I hope y ou will not be offended by my s tate of dis habille," he s aid. "I did try to don my coat, but
found it difficult to get my left arm into the s leev e while wearing the bandage."
"I am not offended," s he replied. "You ought to s ee the way s ome men in the twentieth century
dres s --or rather, don' t dres s . Compared to bare feet, torn jeans , and a dirty s weats hirt, y ou are
wearing formal attire."
"Yours mus t be an unus ual time, if the gentlemen choos e to dres s like beggars ," he murmured.
W ith one long finger he lifted a corner of the dres s s pread acros s her lap. "W hat are y ou doing?"
"Mending." W atching his face for the flas h of humor s he knew would come, s he added, "And
waiting."
"Indeed?" There it was , jus t as s he ex pected. He was try ing not to s mile. W ith practiced grace he
s eated hims elf in the wing chair. W here had he learned to mov e in that lithe, perfectly balanced
way ? He was like a cat--or an ex pert s words man. That was it, s he thought. Jack mov ed like
s omeone fencing in a cos tume mov ie. But for him it
was n' t a mov ie; it was real life. Suddenly s he was tired of play ing gues s ing games about him. If
he would not tell her any thing about hims elf, then perhaps s omeone els e would--but not any one
on Afon Farm. She was conv inced that neither Mos es nor Sarah knew much more about Jack than
s he did. If s he wanted to find out about him, s he would hav e to get away from the farm and talk to
other people who knew him. She thought of the perfect ex cus e to leav e for a little while.
"You know, Jack," s he s aid, "this room really needs to be redecorated."
"I s it here s o s eldom," he res ponded, "that I hav e thought more than once about turning the room
into an office. It would be more conv enient. I s pend entirely too much time working on my ledger
in the dining room, which makes it difficult for Sarah to s erv e meals in there."
"You could put a des k in the corner and s till hav e s pace left for a s eating area," Clary offered.
"Actually , I was thinking more along the lines of curtains and a rug and s ome cheerful cus hions .
You need more light in here, too."
"Do y ou think s o?" He was regarding her with an interes ted, alert ex pres s ion, as if he was
wondering what s he would s ay nex t.
"If y ou are worried about money , it s houldn' t cos t v ery much."
"I was not thinking about money ," he told her. "W ould y ou like to make a lis t of what y ou will
require? I intended to as k y ou if y ou would like more clothing. I will be happy to purchas e

any goods y ou want in either W ilmington or Philadelphia."
"If y ou would let me go with y ou, I could make my own decis ions on the s pot and get ex actly what
I want," s he s ugges ted.
"I hav e told y ou that y ou may not make this trip with me." It was s aid politely , but s o finally that
Clary knew s he would not be able to change his mind.
"I s till don' t unders tand why I can' t go." She knew s he s ounded s ulky , but s he didn' t care.
"I hav e my reas ons . They are good ones . Howev er, s oon it will not be neces s ary for y ou to go far
abroad to s hop. You will be able to buy a great v ariety of goods in Bohemia Village. Ev ery time I
driv e into town, s ome new building has been finis hed. W hen the larger boats begin to s ail
through the canal this autumn, they will all hav e to s top at the locks . Then the v illage will become
a grand market for ev ery one who liv es in this area. Tell me, Clary , does this des ire to trav el and
to refurbis h my home mean that y ou believ e y ou are in this time to s tay ?"
"Does that ques tion mean that y ou believ e my s tory about coming here from the future?" s he
countered.
"You do appear to be a s ingularly hones t and s traightforward y oung woman," he s aid
thoughtfully . "Amaz ing as y our claim is , during thes e pas t weeks , I hav e s een nothing in y our
actions or y our s peech to make me think y ou are not telling the truth. Your s urgical s kills alone
s ugges t that y ou are not a woman of this time. Then there is
y our independent s pirit. Yes , Clary , after clos e daily contact with y ou for more than a month, I
mus t conclude that y ou hav e indeed been remov ed from y our own time to this one."
"Thank y ou." Clary clos ed her ey es in s heer relief. "You cannot know how much y our belief in me
means ."
"Perhaps I do know," he murmured.
"I am beginning to accept the idea that I will be liv ing in this time permanently ," s he s aid in
res pons e to his declaration of belief in her. "The funny thing is , after the firs t few day s of
adjus tment, I really hav en' t minded being here. I am happier now than I hav e been for y ears . I do
wis h, though, that y ou would giv e me a little more freedom."
"You are not a pris oner, Clary ."
"The thing is , in my time, women don' t jus t s tay at home ev ery day . W e go out without a male
es cort, we hav e jobs , and we are v ery independent."
"I hav e already noted y our independence. Yet y ou claim to be happier here," he s aid, "under my
protection."
"Don' t think for one minute that I will s tay here contentedly forev er. Sooner or later I am s ure to
dev elop cabin fev er. At which point y ou will dis cov er jus t how difficult a twentieth-century woman
can be."
W hat Jack might hav e s aid in res pons e to that threat was prev ented by Sarah' s appearance to
announce that their meal was ready . For the nex t hour Clary directed her comments to the food

and to the polite conv ers ation that Jack ins is ted upon when they were at the dining table.
"I do believ e the rain has s topped," he remarked as they ros e at the end of the meal. "I would
enjoy a breath of air after two long day s as a conv ales cent." Drawing Clary ' s arm through his , he
guided her down the hall and onto the front v eranda. There he s niffed the humid air. "It will rain
again s oon."
"Then y ou will s pend another day indoors ," s he told him.
"I will not. I hav e too much work to do."
"Dev eloping cabin fev er s o s oon, Jack?" Her v oice was wry . "Then y ou mus t know ex actly how I
feel."
"Touche, Clary ." She heard his low laughter in the darknes s , jus t before he caught her face
between his hands . His palms were rough with callus es , but his touch was gentle.
"Nev er before hav e I met s uch a determined woman," he s aid. "You are amaz ing, Clary , to come
here from s o far away and make a place for y ours elf with s uch s peed and apparent eas e. The
as tonis hing thing to me is that, for all y our determination and y our independent way s , I hav e not
the leas t des ire to tame y ou. I would much prefer to hav e y ou remain with me by y our own free
choice."
"Let me go to Philadelphia with y ou."
"No, Clary . Do not as k again. I hav e planned a bus y s chedule in which there is no time for a
woman' s pres ence. It would be mos t inappropriate for me to take y ou along. Howev er, I make
s uch journey s with s ome regularity . Perhaps the nex t time y ou may join me. W ould that s atis fy
y ou?"
" W hen will the nex t time be?"
"I s hould know the ans wer to that when I return. The final work has been s peeded up on the Deep
Cut, to meet the date chos en for the official opening. I ought to return there once or twice more
before mid-October, and I may hav e to v is it W ilmington again."
"I learned about the Deep Cut in grade s chool," s he s aid. "It' s in the ridge that makes up the
center of the penins ula, where men are digging by hand through ninety feet of s olid granite to get
down to canal lev el. There are terrible lands lides and other as s orted accidents . And the bridge
ov er the Deep Cut--I learned about it, too. I got a v ery good grade in his tory clas s ," s he ended
proudly , to Jack' s approv ing grin.
"Summit Bridge was completed before the workers began remov ing the earth," Jack added to her
s tory from his own firs thand knowledge. "The engineers of the project decided it would be les s
ex pens iv e, far eas ier, and much les s dangerous to build the bridge firs t and then dig out the
canal beneath it. Unfortunately , no one knew how uns table the earth walls would be in that area,
s o the men are hav ing to s hore up the s ides . Nor did any of the engineers ex pect to hav e s o
much difficulty while working through the mars hes at the eas tern end toward Delaware Bay .

"Sometimes I think this canal will nev er be finis hed. And it has been s o ex pens iv e that I doubt if
it will ev er earn a div idend for the s tockholders ." He paus ed, drew a long breath, and added,
almos t to hims elf, "There are men who are mos t ups et about the lack of return on the
inv es tment."
"I want to s ee the bridge, Jack," Clary told him. "In the twentieth century it has been replaced by a
new bridge."
" W e will all go to s ee it on opening day ," he promis ed. "Now, hus h, Clary . I don' t want to talk
about the canal any more, or the bridge either."
" W hat s ubject do y ou want to dis cus s ?" Newly aware that his hands were s till holding her face,
Clary fell s ilent.
"On Saturday ev ening we were conducting a mos t interes ting conv ers ation, which was interrupted
entirely too s oon," he murmured. "I would like to take up the threads of that talk again
now."
"In what way ?" She knew full well what he wanted, but s he longed to hear him s ay it out loud.
"I am as king y ou to s hare my bed tonight."
"Oh, Jack." She could not breathe. She had the feeling that his hands on her cheeks were all that
was holding her on her feet. W ithout them s he would s urely collaps e.
"You did lead me to believ e y ou were willing," he s aid. "But I will not force y ou, Clary . I hav e
s een at clos e hand the pain and grief that ens ue when a woman' s true wis hes are not heeded. I
would nev er do that to y ou. You mus t come to me freely ."
" W ill y ou do what y ou did out there on the riv er?" She did not know how s he had the nerv e to as k
him that. She could feel the blood rus hing to her face in embarras s ment
"Dear girl, what can y our pas t be like that y ou can as k s uch a ques tion? No, don' t ans wer. From
what y ou s aid on Saturday , I can all too eas ily imagine the kind of treatment y ou once endured.
Clary , I promis e y ou we hav e barely begun to s ample the pleas ure we can giv e to each other."
He hadn' t ev en kis s ed her y et and already s he was aching to feel his hands on her. She could
not s ee his face. His v oice was a hy pnotic whis per in the dark, y et s he ins tinctiv ely knew that
ev ery thing he s aid was true. If s he s aid no, he would leav e her alone. It was an incredible
promis e, but he would keep it. She knew he wanted her, for it had been perfectly obv ious during
their picnic in the rowboat. She s ens ed that his need had grown ev en greater. And s he, hav ing
tas ted the delight of his touch, wanted to repeat the ex perience. Repeat it? No, s he wanted to go
farther. She wanted to know ev ery thing he could teach her.
"Clary ?"
"Yes , Jack. I will s pend the night with y ou." She felt a s udden rus h of pleas ure s weep through her
v eins . This was not going to be s omething Jack did to her; it would be s omething they did
together. In the ins tant when his mouth clos ed on hers ,

Clary ceas ed to marv el that he would trouble to as k her permis s ion firs t, when he might s o eas ily
hav e s wept her along on his own pas s ion. Nor did s he think at all about her earlier dis trus t of
men. Jack had read her character ov er the pas t month, and s he had come to know his integrity .
She put her arms around his neck, pres s ing hers elf agains t him in s ilent s urrender to what they
both wanted.
She thought s he would faint before he finis hed kis s ing her. His thumb rubbed along the margin of
her lower lip until s he opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to s urge into her with dev as tating
effect on her s ens es . One of his hands caught the back of her neck, holding her head s teady ,
while his other hand s lid downward to draw her lower body more firmly agains t his harder frame.
Clary melted into him, holding on tightly , letting him ignite a roaring blaz e ins ide her.
She knew s he was going to find with him the ex quis ite completion s he had known only once
before, and that once had been in his arms . He would not s top or let her go until s he was as
s atis fied as he was . This knowledge, this abs olute certainty , eliminated her las t qualms , s o that
when he did releas e her s he did not feel abandoned, but waited patiently to dis cov er what he
would do nex t.
He put out his hand and Clary took it. Side by s ide they walked back into the hous e and along the
hall until they reached the door of his room. The hous e was quiet and empty s av e
for the two of them, and Sarah had dous ed the candles before leav ing. Clary s tood jus t ins ide his
bedroom door while Jack lit the candle on the table nex t to his bed.
"I ought to change," s he murmured, looking down at the blue-green s ilk and white mus lin.
"I will undres s y ou." Again he held out one hand, and Clary went to him.
"You are s o lov ely ." He remov ed the combs from her hair, pus hing his fingers through the thick
and curly mas s . W hen Clary tilted her head back, his burning mouth des cended upon her throat.
She clutched at his s houlders to keep hers elf from s inking to her knees . A moment later his
fingers were at the neckline of her gown, unhooking the bodice right down to the wais tband.
" W here?" He as ked, and s he became aware of his hands running along the s tiffened wais tband,
s earching for the fas tenings .
"Here." She s howed him where the hooks were and the dres s loos ened and fell away from her
body . The draws tring of her petticoat gav e way at his as s ault and the garment crumpled
downward atop the dres s . He pulled her chemis e upward ov er her head. Clary s aw the flare of
humor in his ey es when he realiz ed that s he was wearing no cors et or drawers or s tockings .
Then laughter faded to s omething v ery like rev erence and his hands were cares s ing her from
throat to thigh and back again.
"Beautiful." His hands res ted on her breas ts , palms agains t nipples . Clary moaned s oftly . She

moaned again when he lowered his mouth and fas tened it firs t on one breas t and then on the
other. She began to tremble, already aching to feel him ins ide her.
Slowly Jack eas ed her down onto his bed and knelt nex t to her. One hand s lid upward, to knee
and thigh and bey ond. Clary gas ped and pus hed her hips agains t his hand.
"Do y ou know how much I want y ou, Clary ? You are s o warm, s o res pons iv e to my ev ery touch."
He buried his face in her s oft belly . Clary caught at his head with both hands , pulling off the
ribbon, freeing his mahogany hair from its tight queue. But when s he would hav e lifted him
toward her to kis s his mouth, he pulled away , leav ing her s prawled upon the bed while he
remov ed his robe and s hirt and s lippers . His fingers mov ed quickly on the buttons of breeches
and underdrawers , and then he was pus hing both garments downward together, rev ealing firm
buttocks and long s traight legs . He turned to her and Clary ' s ey es went wide. He s aw her reaction
and s miled and came to s tand bes ide the bed. Clary could not s top s taring.
"Are y ou afraid?" He res ted one knee on the bed.
"No." Clary licked her lips nerv ous ly .
"Then what is it?" He mov ed clos er to her.
"I was thinking how much I want y ou--all of y ou--deep ins ide me." Boldly s he met his hungry
gaz e. "I was thinking what a finely made man y ou are, and not jus t phy s ically ."
"At the moment, the phy s ical as pect would s eem to predominate," he murmured.
"Do y ou think y ou could kis s me again?"
"I intend to kis s y ou ev ery where." He s tretched out bes ide her and took her into his arms .
"At firs t, I was worried that y ou might s till be too s ick for this ," s he s aid. "You know, weakened by
fev er and all that. It would be too bad, wouldn' t it?" His mouth s topped her words for a long,
s weet moment.
"You did warn me once that y ou hav e a tendency to babble when y ou are ov erly ex cited," he
teas ed gently . "I s hall therefore take y our babbling in this ins tance as a pos itiv e s ign and
proceed to try to leav e y ou quite incoherent." His hands mov ed on her, touching and s troking, his
cares s es becoming ev er more intimate.
"But--but I--oh, Jack--no one ev er--oh, good heav ens !"
"I do believ e I am s ucceeding," he whis pered.
"Don' t teas e. This is s erious . You' re driv ing me mad." Thes e words ended in a s hort little
s creech as his fingertips s troked s lowly down her s pine and into the cleft between her buttocks .
"You are abs olutely right, madam." Jack s eparated her thighs and knelt between them. "This is
no longer a joking matter. Now open y our ey es , my s weet, and look at me."
"Oh, pleas e," s he whis pered. "Jack--y ou hav e to--pleas e--do s omething--I can' t--can' t--"
"Is this what y ou had in mind?" He s lid into her s o s moothly and s o s wiftly that Clary ' s ey es

flew open with s hock at his s udden entrance. She s aw the blaz e of triumph in his ey es and heard
his whis pered, "Beautiful, s o beautiful, Clary . You are s o tight and s o hot."
"Jack." He was balanced ov er her. Clary wrapped her fingers around his upper arms . She
became aware of her inner body adjus ting to his pres ence and tightening around him. And s till
s he could not s peak in coherent s entences . Her mind was bus y els ewhere, regis tering the new
s ens ations and the growing demands of her body . "You--don' t s top--I need--want--"
"I know. Hold me, Clary . Put y our arms around me. I need y ou to want me as much as I want
y ou."
"I do. I--Jack! I can' t s top!" Her arms were around his wais t, her fingernails digging into his back.
Some force within her demanded that s he mov e, and when s he did, he began to mov e, too, in
deep s trokes that rapidly led her to the brink of total mental chaos . Then the rhy thm changed,
intens ify ing, and Clary went rigid for a long, breathles s moment. Locked in Jack' s arms , s afe and
cheris hed y et s till free, s he went s oaring into an ecs tas y s o wildly intens e that it s ent the breath
out of her lungs in a long, broken cry .
Ev en after he s eparated from her, Jack held her clos e, kis s ing and cares s ing and whis pering to
her, teaching her what gentlenes s and tendernes s could do, until at las t s he lay back, gaz ing at
him in near adoration.
"Are y ou coherent again?" he whis pered.
"Don' t teas e," s he began, and he s obered at once.
"I am not teas ing y ou, Clary . I only wanted to know if y ou are completely y ours elf again."
"I don' t think I will ev er again be my old s elf. Not after that."
"I am deeply honored to hear y ou s ay s o. I cons ider y our words a great compliment." He turned
onto his back, but s till kept an arm around her. They lay quietly for a while, until Clary was unable
to keep s ilent any longer.
"You knew I wanted y ou, y et y ou as ked my permis s ion," s he s aid. Ris ing on one elbow s he
looked down at him, waiting for s ome kind of res pons e.
"It is only fair to as k firs t," he s aid. Clary could not be s atis fied with that.
"You hav e mentioned a couple of times that y ou once knew a woman who was mis us ed by a
man." He grew s till, as he alway s did when s he pried too deeply into his pas t life, but this time,
emboldened by their lov emaking, Clary pers is ted. "Is it becaus e of her that y ou as ked?"
"Yes ." Nothing more, jus t the s ingle word. Cons umed with curios ity and a need to know
ev ery thing s he could dis cov er about Jack, Clary tried again.
" W ho was s he?"
"A girl far too y oung and innocent to know how to deal with a man who refus ed to believ e

her when s he s aid s he did not want him."
"You cared deeply about her." Jack remained s ilent. "W hat finally happened, Jack?"
"That man will not harm another woman." The tone of his v oice chilled Clary , but s he would not
s top as king ques tions --not when he was actually ans wering them ins tead of turning them away
with teas ing. "And the girl? W hat happened to her?"
"I hope in time s he will recov er her old s pirits and unders tand that what happened was not her
fault. I pray s he will learn to be happy again." "W as this in England, Jack?"
"It happened y ears ago." There was finality in his v oice, and Clary thought it was bes t to let that
particular s ubject drop. Howev er, s he did hav e one more comment to make. "Madam Ros e told
me that y ou alway s treat her girls well." W ith that, s he lay down bes ide him again. He laughed at
what s he had s aid. "I hav e not been to v is it the girls at Madam Ros e' s hous e more than fiv e
times s ince I arriv ed in Mary land," he s aid. "And not at all s ince y ou came into my life." "I am s o
glad to hear that. I admit I did wonder a bit about y our frequent treks into Bohemia Village."
"All I s ell there is produce," he s aid, laughing again, "and all I buy are s upplies for hous e and
farm."
"And what do y ou do along the canal?" s he as ked, taking a chance on a new line of inquiry
becaus e he was s o relax ed.
"I was a contractor for portions of the work," he replied. "I make periodic ins pections to be s ure
the s ections dug earlier under my s uperv is ion and us ing material I s upplied are holding up well,
and to make certain that the work done by my men is not being des troy ed by thos e now in
charge." "And what do y ou do in W ilmington and Philadelphia?"
"The board of directors is bas ed in Philadelphia. W e hold meetings ; I make reports . And there is
other bus ines s to which I mus t attend." "And W ilmington? W hat do y ou do there?"
He rolled ov er, looking down at her with ey es in which caution and a deep res erv e warred with
his us ual teas ing attitude and a new warmth directed toward her. "Madam, I do believ e y ou are
once more becoming incoherent. Perhaps y ou will allow me to as s is t y ou in reaching rational
thought again--after a certain interv al of complete madnes s , of cours e." "You are ev ading my
ques tions ."
"Only becaus e y ou as k too many of them, and mos t concerning canal bus ines s , when what I
hav e in mind for this ev ening has nothing at all to do with the canal. You ought to be flattered,
Clary , and s top changing the s ubject, for I intend to s pend the entire night lis tening to y ou babble
in uncontrollable ex citement." "Jack--I think--don' t--oh, don' t s top--Jack!"
"Jus t as I thought," he s aid and put his mouth on hers to s ilence her.

Chapter Ten
For Clary , the nex t s ix day s pas s ed in a romantic haz e. The rain s topped and they enjoy ed clear,
dry weather, with the s un hav ing grown gentler s ince the y ear was mov ing on toward September.
Jack' s arm was healing nicely with no s ign of the infection Clary had dreaded, s o he was s oon
back at work on the farm and making his regular trips into Bohemia Village. He nev er made any
ov ert dis play of affection when Mos es , Sarah, or Luke were pres ent, but whenev er his ey es met
hers , Clary could read in them the des ire he would unleas h when nighttime came. Not certain
what the reaction of the deeply religious Sarah would be to their affair, Clary did her bes t to
conceal her feelings , too. She wondered about Sarah s ometimes . Did that intelligent woman
really believ e that Clary and Jack s imply went into their res pectiv e bedrooms at night and kept
the connecting door clos ed? Or did Sarah think that
what Clary and Jack did together was their own priv ate affair, s omething not to be dis cus s ed?
During this time, Clary ' s emotions were in a cons tant s tate of delightful turmoil. She was growing
s teadily more grounded in her new life, until s he could not believ e that s he would ev er return to
the twentieth century . Nor did s he want to return. There was nothing in that other time to draw her
back. Her father and mother had died within a few months of each other when s he was barely into
her teens , and all four of her grandparents were dead y ears before her parents . The other
relativ es --aunts , uncles , cous ins --who had been a part of her childhood were all s cattered around
the world and s he s eldom s aw any of them. As a res ult, for the greater part of her y oung
womanhood, Clary had been s tarv ed for lov e. She realiz ed that what s he and Rich had known
together was not lov e at all, but s omething much les s , s omething triv ial and temporarily
conv enient. For all the y ears of lonelines s and for the pain of her unhappy marriage, this time
with Jack was her reward. She went eagerly to his bed each night, where s he res ponded to his
s killed lov emaking with increas ing pas s ion.
"I was right about y ou," he whis pered into the predawn gray nes s of Monday morning. "You are
the mos t res pons iv e woman I hav e ev er known."
"I nev er dreamed that two people could fit together s o perfectly ," s he s aid. "Or that I could be s o
happy for s o many day s in a row."

"And s o totally incoherent for s o much of that time," he teas ed.
"You weren' t ex actly making intelligent conv ers ation y ours elf a few minutes ago," s he teas ed
back, adding, "I hope I nev er hav e to leav e y ou." "I could not bear it if y ou did."
They had not s poken of lov e, but Clary knew in due time they would dis cus s the future. For the
moment, it was enough that s he had cas t as ide her former dis trus t of men and opened her heart
to Jack. On Tues day afternoon, at Jack' s ins is tence, s he remov ed the s titches from his arm.
"It is bes t to hav e it done before I leav e tomorrow," he s aid, lay ing his arm on the kitchen table
s o Clary could work on it. Luke peered at the healing gas h, then at Jack' s face. "You want s ome
whis key firs t?" he as ked.
"I believ e a glas s would not be amis s ," Jack res ponded. W hen Luke gav e it to him, he drained it
at a s ingle gulp. "Luke, y ou get out of Miz Clary ' s way ," Sarah chided.
"I think he wants to watch." Clary s miled at Luke. "I hav e a feeling that Luke plans to be a
s urgeon when he grows up." "Yes , ma' am, I do," s aid Luke.
" W hat s chool would take a black boy ?" Sarah demanded.
Clary looked from Sarah' s angry face to Luke' s hopeful one to Jack' s half-amus ed ex pres s ion.
"Perhaps Luke could go to s chool in Europe," s he s aid.
Sarah appeared s tunned by this idea. "W hat place would there be for him when he came home?"
s he as ked.
"I don' t know," Clary ans wered hones tly . "W e can talk about it later. For now, let' s pull thos e
s titches out of Jack' s arm." She us ed a s harp knife to cut each s titch and, lacking forceps , caught
each knot in her fingers to pull out the thread. As he had done during the original repair, Jack
made no s ound and did not flinch during the s omewhat rough procedure. "Are y ou all right?" s he
as ked him when s he was done.
"Perfectly ." But his jaw was s et and his face was a bit pale. Clary s wabbed the area of the wound
with whis key and put on a fres h bandage. "That will keep it clean," s he s aid. "Perhaps y ou ought
to lie down for a while."
"I s hall ins tead take this opportunity to make the final preparations for my departure," he replied.
"Perhaps y ou would be good enough to look in on me later, to make certain that I am not ly ing
uncons cious on my bedroom floor." "I' ll do that." Clary finis hed cleaning off the kitchen table and
dis pos ed of the dirty bandage. W hen s he looked up again Jack was gone. "Sarah, is Mos es
taking the cart into Bohemia Village tomorrow?" "Mis ter Jack s aid to let Luke do it," Sarah
ans wered. "He' ll ride into town bes ide the cart, s o Luke will only hav e to trav el the one way by
hims elf. W hy do y ou as k?"

"I' d like to go along. If Jack won' t let me go as far as W ilmington or Philadelphia, at leas t I could
enjoy a day in the v illage. From the s mall bits of information I hav e been able to drag out of Jack,
I unders tand it has grown s ince I las t s aw it."
"I don' t think Mis ter Jack would object." Sarah cons idered the propos al. "Things in the v illage
hav e quieted down s omewhat s ince the work at this end of the canal is almos t finis hed. Mos t of
the workmen are at the Deep Cut now. They ' re the ones who caus e the trouble, and us ually on
Saturday night after they are paid. That' s when they get drunk and s tart brawls ."
"Then, unles s Jack dreams up s ome new ex cus e to keep me here on the farm, I will plan to go
with Luke," Clary s aid.
"Did he tell y ou not to leav e here?" Sarah as ked.
"No, not that I couldn' t s et foot off the farm," Clary s aid. "Nor has he refus ed to let me go into
Bohemia Village. W hat he objects to is my wis h to s ee Philadelphia and W ilmington with him. He
does n' t giv e me any good reas on why I can' t go. He jus t s ay s I can' t and that' s final."
"He alway s complains about the heat in Philadelphia," Sarah s aid. "So it may be that he thinks
y ou wouldn' t like it there in the s ummertime. As for y ou goin' to W ilmington, he probably plans to
v is it that woman and don' t want y ou around when he does ."
"I beg y our pardon?" Clary s tared at her. "W hat woman, Sarah?"
"Don' t know who s he is ," Sarah s aid. "I only know he goes to W ilmington quite often, us ually
after one of his ins pection tours along the canal. He finis hes on the Delaware Bay s ide and then
goes on to W ilmington."
"How do y ou know he v is its a woman?" Clary as ked. "Did he tell y ou?"
"Mis ter Jack?" Sarah laughed. "You know how tight-lipped he is . I accidentally heard Mr.
MacKenz ie talkin' to him one time, when I was s erv in' them dinner. Something about the lady
needin' ex tra money that month."
"Jack s ends money to a woman in W ilmington?" Clary s at down at the table, hoping thus to
caus ed by a s harp pain s omewhere in the area of her heart. "He has a mis tres s ?"
"Don' t make much s ens e to me either," Sarah s aid, apparently obliv ious to Clary ' s dis tres s .
" W ilmington' s a long way for a man to go for a bit of pleas ure, but I know better than to ques tion
Mis ter Jack. I wouldn' t dare interfere in his priv ate affairs , and y ou s houldn' t either, Miz Clary . If
y ou do, he' ll jus t s nap at y ou or teas e y ou, and y ou' ll nev er learn what y ou want to know. And
s ometimes , it' s better not to know too much."
"But Sam MacKenz ie knows ."
"He mus t, ' caus e they were talkin' about it. Miz Clary , y ou aren' t ups et about this , are y ou?
' Caus e if y ou are, I' m s orry I told y ou."
"Don' t be s orry . And, no, I' m not ups et. It' s no bus ines s of mine." She s tood up, heading

for the kitchen door. "Mis ter Jack Martin can do whatev er he damn well pleas es ."
"You goin' to check on him?" Sarah as ked. "I think takin' thos e s titches out hurt more than he' d
admit."
"I hope s o," Clary whis pered too low for Sarah to hear her. "I hope it hurt like hell. As for checking
on him, let him rot!"
Not wanting to return to the hous e, s he went for a long, rambling walk, which las ted more than an
hour and ended at the s andy beach, where s he s tood s taring at the ups ide-down row-boat in
which her lov e affair with Jack had begun.
"Damn y ou!" s he s houted, pounding on the keel of the boat. "You bloody bas tard! I actually
trus ted y ou."
Dropping to her knees in the s and, Clary leaned agains t the rowboat and finally gav e way to
tears . After a while s he dried her ey es and began to think ov er ev ery moment with Jack s ince the
day he had fis hed her out of the canal. She had alway s known ins tinctiv ely that he was more than
the s imple gentleman farmer he pretended to be. There was s ome important s ecret in his life, and
the woman in W ilmington was s urely a part of that my s tery .
Jack had s worn to Clary that he was not married and nev er had been, and s he believ ed him on
that s ubject. Though he had not mentioned lov e, s he thought he cared about her. And s he knew
s he was in lov e with him--enough to fight for him and for the relations hip that had grown between
them.
"I will be reas onable about this ," s he s aid to hers elf. "I won' t make Jack pay for what happened
with Rich. I will giv e him another chance to tell me what is going on and to prov e he lov es me. In
the meantime, I will talk to Madam Ros e. She may know s omething. And pos s ibly Sam
MacKenz ie will be in Bohemia Village tomorrow. I might get s ome information out of him, too. If
I' m going to fight for Jack, I will need to know who my competition is ."
Ris ing to her feet, s he dus ted the s and off her s kirts , then left the beach. She made her way up
the hill, through the trees , and out onto the fields . W hen s he reached the kitchen, s he s tuck her
head ins ide the door.
"Sarah, are thos e peaches we pres erv ed in whis key ready to be eaten y et?"
"You could eat them now, but they ' ll tas te much s moother later in the s eas on." Sarah gav e her a
ques tioning glance, then went back to s tirring the pot that was s immering on the cooks tov e. "W hy
do y ou as k? You want to make s omething with them?"
"I want to giv e a jar of them to Madam Ros e."
Sarah nearly dropped her wooden s poon.
" W hy do y ou want to make friends with that woman, Miz Clary ?"
"The peaches will be a thank-y ou gift for the clothes s he gav e me." Spinning around, Clary
marched acros s the courty ard and into the hous e. Jack was in his room, packing a v alis e.
"I want to go to Bohemia Village with y ou tomorrow," Clary announced.

"My dear, I hav e told y ou s ev eral times that I mus t make this journey alone," he s aid.
"I didn' t s ay I want to join y ou on y our tour along the .canal. I won' t as k to go to W ilmington or to
Philadelphia either." Her v oice was s trained, and he gav e her a puz z led look. Ignoring his
ex pres s ion, Clary continued. "I jus t want to go into the v illage to look around and s ee how much it
has grown s ince the las t time I was there. I als o want to take s ome pres erv ed peaches to Madam
Ros e and pers onally thank her again for what s he did on that firs t day ."
"She did little." Jack' s frown told Clary what he thought of her as s ociation with Madam Ros e. "I
paid her for y our clothes . She ev en charged me for y our bathwater."
"I don' t care about that. She was nice to me when s he didn' t hav e to be. She als o gav e me s ome
ex cellent adv ice, which I foolis hly did not heed. I will ride into Bohemia Village in the cart with
Luke, and I will come home with him in the ev ening."
"Home?" Jack repeated, his face lit with pleas ure. "Has this farm truly become y our home? You
cannot know what it means to me to hear y ou us e that word."
It was then that Clary ' s ey es fell upon the object in his hands . It was a s quare, flat package
wrapped in clean white paper. Jack had been about to place it into his v alis e when Clary had
walked into the room. She recogniz ed it as one of s ev eral parcels that he had brought home from
his mos t recent day in Bohemia Village, where he had made purchas es from the boats s topped
there to unload their cargo. There had been a length of cotton fabric from which Sarah could make
new s hirts for Mos es and Luke and y ards of dark red calico for an ev ery day dres s for Sarah. For
Clary , Jack had brought a fres h s upply of ros e-s cented s oap and a patterned woolen s hawl to
keep her s houlders warm when the coming autumn ev enings turned cool. She had as s umed that
this package contained s ome pers onal item for Jack' s own us e. Now s he s aw that one s ide of the
package had come open, and from it s pilled a corner s ection of s omething made of white lace. It
was a delicate piece with a pattern of ros es and leav es , and it had a s calloped edge. Jack s aw
her looking and glanced down at it.
"Are y ou taking that to W ilmington?" Clary as ked.
"I am."
No ex planation, no ex cus es --jus t two s imple words . They broke Clary ' s heart. Her thoughts
whirled forward in time to an icy January ev ening when s he had als o been betray ed by s omeone
s he had lov ed and trus ted. The hurt and pain were infinitely more dev as tating--proof, if proof were
needed, that s he had grown to lov e Jack Martin with all her heart. And like Rich, Jack had
betray ed her with s omeone els e. Clary thought s he would die from pain.
"Good," s he s aid through clenched teeth. She nodded toward the white lace. "That ought to buy
y ou a wonderful time."

As he s tepped toward her, s he s lammed the connecting door between their rooms .
"I am as king y ou to trus t me." "Forget it, Jack. I was n' t born y es terday ." Clary let loos e a peal of
bitter laughter. "But y ou would think I was , wouldn' t y ou? In s pite of the fact that I was born in an
age when women were a lot more aware of what goes on in the world. In that time, one man
already play ed me for a fool. Then I came here and let y ou do the s ame thing to me. Some people
jus t nev er learn, do they ?"
"How dare y ou ins ult me in that way !" Jack' s ey es blaz ed. "I am not y our former hus band. In this
time a gentleman' s word is accepted as truth. I hav e not play ed y ou for a fool."
"That' s a laugh and a half!" Clary watched him clench and unclench his fis ts . From the look on his
face s he thought that if s he were a man he probably would hav e s lapped her acros s the face and
demanded that s he meet him with pis tols at dawn. In fact, he looked s o furious that s he took a
wary s tep away from him. Bes ide her, their ev ening meal s at cooling on their untouched plates .
For once Clary had no appetite for Sarah' s delicious food. Her s tomach was twis ted into s ev eral
different kinds of knots that made eating impos s ible.
"Clary ." Jack appeared to be in better control of hims elf now. "I know y ou do not properly
unders tand this time."
"Oh, s o y ou think I' m dumb." She s aw him grit his teeth and prepare to try again. He wanted
to reas on with her when s he felt like throwing a full-s cale tantrum.
"Obv ious ly , y ou are not dumb, s ince y ou refus e to s top talking long enough for me to finis h a
complete thought."
"Oh, do pleas e finis h y our noble thoughts , my lord. I do mos t humbly apologiz e for interrupting
y ou." Her words made him angry all ov er again. Clary knew well that tight, s till look he
s ometimes got when s he s aid the wrong thing. At the moment, s he couldn' t s eem to help hers elf.
Ev ery thing s he s aid was wrong.
"In this time," he told her with ex aggerated patience, "a gentleman' s word is not giv en lightly and
it can alway s be believ ed."
"Is that s o? Are y ou claiming that no one of y our ex alted, lord-of-Afon-Farm s ocial clas s ev er tells
a lie? Not ev en to a s tupid little female?"
"Es pecially to a s tupid little female." His tone of v oice ripped acros s Clary ' s raw emotions like a
jagged s aw.
"I am well aware that people in this time don' t think men and women are equal," s he s aid. "But
y ou are wrong, and I can prov e it. W hy , right here on y our own farm women do heav y work--"
"Be s ilent!"
Nev er had any one s poken to Clary in that way . In Jack' s demeanor and in his low-pitched, quiet
v oice s he recogniz ed his inbred s ens e of his right to command and his certainty that his orders
would be ins tantly obey ed. For a moment s he s aw hers elf through his ey es . Since walking into

the dining room half an hour ago s he had been s napping and s narling at him like s ome petty ,
quarrels ome creature. And he was right. She had not giv en him a chance to ex plain. Her own pas t
was getting in the way here, making her as s ume that he was hav ing an affair with another woman
when, for all s he knew, that piece of lace might actually be a pres ent for his elderly maiden
aunt--or a bus ines s gift to the wife of a member of the board of directors of the canal project. She
was talking too much and interrupting him becaus e s he was ups et and s he was giv ing way to her
natural tendency at s uch times to babble without s topping.
"Go ahead, Jack. Say what y ou want to s ay . I will lis ten."
" W hen a gentleman giv es his word, it cannot be broken. I hav e giv en my word not to s peak on
certain matters that are of the utmos t importance to other people. I will not break my word, Clary ."
"That' s it? That' s y our ex planation?"
"I am afraid it is ."
"But it' s no ex planation at all!"
"You mus t be content with what I hav e s aid. Clary , from what y ou hav e told me about the future, I
know that in y our time a man' s word is no longer his bond, but the change between y our time and
mine is not my fault. If y ou cannot trus t me, then--"
"Then what, Jack?" Clary caught her breath, hoping he would tell her ev ery thing s he wanted
to know about his pas t life. She s hould hav e known better. He uttered only one brief s entence.
"I hav e not been unfaithful to y ou."
"Yet." The moment s he s poke s he would hav e called the word back if it were pos s ible. Then s he
s aw the hurt on his face and s aw how quickly and how well he dis guis ed it. Jack Martin was us ed
to hiding his feelings . That being s o, how could s he believ e any thing he s aid?
" W ill y ou eat?" he as ked coolly , indicating the food on the dining room table and the s ideboard.
"After this argument? No way ." She s tarted for the door, hoping s he would reach her bedroom
before s he began to cry .
"Perhaps a glas s of Madeira then to s ettle y our nerv es ." He filled two glas s es with the pale wine
s he liked to s ip after their ev ening meals together.
"No, thank y ou." She nearly choked on the words , fighting the tears .
" W hat, Clary ?" His v oice was s oft and cares s ing, making Clary y earn to throw hers elf into his
arms . "W ill y ou not allow me to ply y ou with liquor?"
"Is there a key to that door between our rooms ?" s he as ked.
"I can find it if that is what y ou wis h." It was amaz ing the way his v oice could change from tender
to ice cold in an ins tant. "But y ou do not need to us e a key . You hav e my word on it--I will not
dis turb y ou this night."

"I hope not, for y our s ake, becaus e if y ou try any thing, I plan to s cream bloody murder until
Sarah, Mos es , and Luke all come running to the hous e to s ee what y ou are doing to me."
W ith that, Clary s talked out of the dining room. She was in the act of s hutting her bedroom door
when s he heard the tinkling s ound of a delicate cry s tal wineglas s s hattering agains t wood.
Chapter Elev en
In the weeks s ince Clary had las t s een it, Bohemia Village had indeed changed. There were new
hous es being built on Bohemia Av enue not far from Madam Ros e' s es tablis hment, and behind
her hous e two new s treets had been laid out, with buildings in the proces s of being erected along
them. On the s hore of the cov e at the s outh s ide of Back Creek the lime kiln was operating at full
blas t, no doubt to produce whitewas h with which to paint the new buildings .
The mos t noticeable difference, howev er, was not in the v illage but along the s ides of the canal
and on the water, where there was a s teady bus tle of activ ity . There was a line of boats tied up,
waiting to go through the locks . At the moment Clary could s ee two boats already in the firs t lock
with the lock gates clos ed, and s he could hear the s team engines in the pump hous e working
hard to force water into the lock, which

would rais e the boats to the nex t lev el.
Along the water' s edge an informal market had been s et up where fruits , v egetables , and s acks of
grain were being s old. There were s maller v endors purv ey ing baked goods , meat, milk, and
butter to thos e who liv ed on their boats and who depended upon s uch s ales men to replenis h their
food s upplies . A cart loaded with barrels of water rumbled pas t on its way to s ell that v ital
commodity to the boatmen, for in the immediate area of the v illage and the locks , the water was
much too dirty for drinking.
The v illage was nois y : loud v oices , laughter, and the occas ional curs e mingled with the s ounds
of hammer and s aw and the rattle of carts making their way along the rutted road, which had s een
no improv ement at all s ince Clary ' s firs t v is it. On the canal boats babies cried, women chattered
among thems elv es , and dogs barked. A team of mules s tood waiting to be harnes s ed to the boats
after the lock had been filled and the v es s els were ready to mov e on. The animals would pull the
boats through the canal to the nex t lock. The s udden bray ing of one of the mules added to the
general clamor. W hen Jack s poke, he had to s hout to be heard abov e the nois e.
"Ov er there, Luke." From his s eat on a fine black s tallion, Jack pointed, and Luke turned the cart
left toward the market, bringing the hors es to a s top nex t to the long wall of Madam Ros e' s
hous e. Looking acros s Back Creek, Clary could s ee a s imilar market s et up on the oppos ite s ide
of the water.
"Uncle Dancy !" Luke s houted, wav ing wildly , and a tall, mus cular black man left one of the market
s talls to join the group from Afon Farm. Incongruous ly , for s uch a huge man, he had the handle of
a bas ket filled with fres h fruits and v egetables s lung ov er one arm.
"Hello, Luke, Mis ter Jack. Good to s ee y ou." Dancy fav ored his former mas ter with a broad grin.
"Mr. MacKenz ie' s in town, too. He' s ov er at the pump hous e on bus ines s , but he' ll be back s oon.
Luke, y ou' v e been growin' again. Thos e ov eralls are too s hort for y ou."
"I know," Luke s aid proudly . "Mama s ay s I' ll be tall like y ou and my daddy ." Seeing the curious
glance Dancy turned on Clary , Luke has tened to introduce them while Jack found a place for the
cart among all the others gathered at canals ide with produce.
"I remember y ou," Dancy s aid to Clary . "You were almos t drowned."
"I feel much better now." Clary allowed Jack to help her down from the cart, but s he did not look
directly at him, nor did s he thank him for his as s is tance. She had refus ed to talk to him s ince
their quarrel the prev ious night. "Dancy , is Madam Ros e at home? I would like to pay her a v is it."
"She' s there, Miz Clary , but ladies don' t us ually pay her no v is its . There' s not many ladies here
in Bohemia Village, but they mos tly jus t ignore Madam Ros e."
"Then s he will probably be glad to hav e a little company ." Clary s hook out her s kirts and

tilted her s traw s unbonnet lower ov er her brow to s hade her face from the s un. Dancy s tared at
her as if wondering what to do, then looked to Jack for direction.
"There is no s topping this determined woman," s aid Jack. "She cares little for the conv entions of
proper s ociety , and s he will v is it Madam Ros e whether I approv e or not. If y ou will be good
enough to conduct her to the front door, Luke and I will deliv er our merchandis e to thos e who
hav e ordered it in adv ance. Then I will help him to s et out the bas kets of produce he plans to
s ell."
"Dancy has his own work to do." In her lofties t tone Clary objected to Jack' s arrangements .
"There is no need for him to es cort me. I know where the front door is . If s omeone would jus t
remov e the jar of peaches from the cart before a cus tomer decides to buy them," s he finis hed,
watching a pair of women looking with interes t into the back of the cart.
"I' ll take ' em." Slinging the handle of the market bas ket higher on his arm, Dancy picked up the
large crock and s tarted for the front of Madam Ros e' s hous e.
"Dancy , I can carry the peaches my s elf." Clary hurried to catch up with him. It was an uphill walk
and Dancy was mov ing fas t. Breathles s nes s s oon s ilenced Clary ' s protes ts . She and Dancy
rounded the corner of the hous e together and came out onto Bohemia Av enue jus t as Madam
Ros e hers elf appeared on the v eranda.
She was wearing the s ame pink taffeta dres s
Clary remembered from their firs t meeting, and her pale blonde hair was piled high in an
elaborate s ty le. The curls and wav es and braids were apparently well lacquered, becaus e they
were not in the leas t dis turbed by Madam Ros e' s pres ent v igorous activ ity . She was holding a
s mall, s quawking man by the s cruff of the neck, carry ing him out of her hous e and acros s the
v eranda to dump him into the s treet.
"See that y ou s tay out of my hous e in the future, Hez ekiah Bartram," s aid Madam Ros e. "I run a
dignified, orderly place, and I will not hav e any man threatening me or my employ ees with
phy s ical harm."
A y oung woman with improbably red hair appeared on the v eranda to hand Madam Ros e a black
felt hat. The redhead clutched a s kimpy , trans parent wrapper acros s her tightly cors etted figure,
"Thank y ou, Hermione." Madam Ros e flicked her wris t and the hat flew into the s treet to land nex t
to the haples s Hez ekiah Bartram.
"You' ll pay for this , y ou worthles s bitch!" he s narled, s crambling to his feet with defiant glances
toward s ev eral men who had paus ed to watch the s cene. Clary was s urpris ed to s ee that the
ex pelled cus tomer was well dres s ed in a full s uit made from what appeared to be good dark
fabric, a white s hirt, a neatly tied crav at, and black leather glov es .
"Pay ? Me? I think not. You are in the wrong here." Madam Ros e dus ted off her hands as though
s he were ridding hers elf of all traces

of her former cus tomer. She s traightened one of the flounces on her pink taffeta s kirt, and then,
catching s ight of Clary , s he nodded pleas antly . "Good day to y ou, Mis s Cummings . W ere y ou
looking for me?"
"I came into town with Mr. Martin and Luke," Clary s aid. "If y ou' re not too bus y , I thought I would
pay y ou a s hort v is it. I wanted to thank y ou for y our kindnes s and for the clothing y ou gav e to
me."
"I was paid in full." Madam Ros e frowned a little, as if s he could not quite comprehend what
Clary ' s true purpos e might be.
"I know that," Clary s aid, "but kindnes s s hould alway s be reciprocated. I hav e brought a crock of
pres erv ed peaches for y ou and y our--er--y our employ ees ." She wav ed a hand toward Dancy , who
s tood holding the crock along with the bas ket s till s lung on his arm.
"For me?" Madam Ros e looked baffled. She recov ered quickly . "W hy , thank y ou, Mis s
Cummings ."
"May I come in?" W hen Madam Ros e hes itated, Clary added, "I hav e been ins ide before, y ou
know."
"Of cours e." Madam Ros e led the way through the front door. The interior of the hous e was jus t
as Clary remembered it: s moky , s melling of beer and s tronger s pirits , with half-a-doz en barely
clad girls lounging about the main room. Madam Ros e looked around as if wondering where to
put Clary , and Clary decided to take the initiativ e.
"The table in the corner will be jus t fine," s he s aid. "W e can look out acros s the water and watch
the activ ity while we talk. That is , if y ou are not too bus y to take a break."
"A break?" Madam Ros e' s mouth quirked upward in a brief s mile as s he deciphered the
unfamiliar term. "I think I would like a cup of coffee. Hermione, s ince Dancy is bus y , would y ou be
s o kind as to bring us two cups of coffee pleas e?
"Now, Mis s Cummings ," Madam Ros e s aid when they s at at the table s ipping the s trong black
brew, "perhaps y ou will tell me y our real reas on for this v is it."
"I really did want to thank y ou," Clary s aid. "I appreciate what y ou did for me on that frightening
day when I firs t came here."
"No one has come to Bohemia Village looking for y ou, if that is what concerns y ou," Madam Ros e
told her.
"I didn' t ev en think about that," Clary s aid with complete hones ty .
"Then there mus t be s ome other reas on for y our pres ence here today . Ev ery one who comes to
this hous e wants s omething, if not from me, then from one or more of my employ ees ."
"Can' t we jus t meet like friends ?"
"No, Mis s Cummings , we cannot." Madam Ros e fix ed Clary with a lev el gaz e and s poke bluntly .
"I am the proprietres s of the local whorehous e, where a res pectable woman nev er s ets foot
ex cept under the mos t dire circums tances . How can y ou and I ev er be friends ?"

"Perhaps becaus e we are women alone, try ing to make our way in a difficult world."
"Do y ou find life at Afon Farm s o hard?"
"No. Actually , I' m v ery happy there. That is , I was until y es terday ."
" W hat happened y es terday ?"
"Sarah s aid that Jack v is its a woman in W ilmington."
"Ah." W ith a s atis fied air, Madam Ros e s at back in her chair, coffee cup in hand. "This is why y ou
are here. You want to know if I know who the woman is ."
"Do y ou?" Clary leaned forward. "Madam Ros e, if y ou know any thing about her, pleas e tell me.
You can' t imagine how important it is to me."
"On the contrary , I can imagine all too eas ily ." Madam Ros e s hook her head s adly . "I did warn
y ou about Jack Martin on our firs t meeting. It is plain to me that the man is harboring more than a
few s ecrets . And now y ou hav e fallen in lov e with him. I s uppos e that y ou hav e been to bed with
him?"
" W ell--" Clary could feel a flus h creeping into her cheeks under Madam Ros e' s unflinching
obs erv ation.
"Oh, Mis s Cummings , how foolis h that was of y ou." Madam Ros e clucked her tongue a couple of
times , conv ey ing dis may and jus t a touch of impatience at s uch naiv ete. "If y ou could not get a
cas h pay ment from him immediately , then y ou s hould hav e ins is ted that he marry y ou before y ou
allowed him into y our
bed. Now y ou hav e nothing left with which to bargain."
"At the time, I was n' t thinking v ery clearly ," Clary admitted.
"That is perfectly obv ious . It is a pity that no one informs y oung women about thes e practical
matters at an early age. W ith a few pertinent words at the right time, much grief could be
prev ented. But then, of cours e, if all y oung girls were wis e, I would s oon be out of bus ines s for
lack of ladies to work for me."
"How in heav en' s name did an intelligent woman like y ou ev er get into this bus ines s ?" Clary
as ked, momentarily div erted from her ques t to learn whatev er s he could about Jack' s pres umed
mis tres s in W ilmington.
"I believ e I ex plained it on our firs t meeting," s aid Madam Ros e. "I was betray ed by a man. No
one whis pered thos e pertinent words into my ear when I needed to hear them, though whether I
would hav e believ ed them is another matter."
" W here did y ou grow up?" Clary as ked. "You s eem to be well educated."
"I was born in s outhern New Jers ey . My ances tors s ettled there from Sweden almos t two hundred
y ears ago. As for my education, I had it from my father."
"Are y our parents s till aliv e?"
"I do not know. If they are liv ing, they would not be pleas ed to hear from me, not after I dis graced
my family by los ing my v irtue to a local boy with whom I imagined my s elf to be in lov e."

"Couldn' t y ou hav e married him? W ouldn' t that hav e s topped any s candal?"
" W hy would he marry me when he had already had what he wanted from me? No, he married a
girl wis er than I. Thus , I learned a mos t important les s on. A clev er girl nev er giv es away what
s he can s ell for cas h or for a wedding ring."
"That' s an awfully cy nical attitude."
"I would s ay it is practical. I hav e done remarkably well. I own this hous e, y ou know, and the land
upon which it s tands ."
"But y ou hav e to deal with rough ty pes like Hez ekiah Bartram."
"I can manage s uch men. I hav e learned how during the las t ten y ears . The ques tion is , Mis s
Cummings , how can y ou manage Mr. Jack Martin? As s uming y ou wis h to manage him. W hat do
y ou want from him?"
"Faithfulnes s , firs t and foremos t."
"Then y ou want s omething that is nearly impos s ible to attain. Few men remain faithful to a
mis tres s , and fewer s till to a wife."
"I' m in no pos ition to dis pute either of thos e s tatements ," Clary s aid. "W hich brings us back to
the woman in W ilmington. Do y ou know any thing about her?"
"I hav e heard rumors . Sam MacKenz ie once s aid s omething about his friend' s peculiarly
s ecretiv e pers onal life," Madam Ros e res ponded thoughtfully . "I cannot imagine when he has
time to s ee her, if s he ex is ts at all, for Mr. Martin is us ually to be found at the canal or here in
Bohemia Village or els e at his farm."
"Sarah s ay s he s tops in W ilmington whenev er he is at the eas tern end of the canal."
"How does Sarah know this ? More importantly , what is her purpos e in telling y ou? Could s he be
try ing to make trouble for y ou, perhaps hoping to driv e y ou away from Afon Farm?"
"I don' t think s o. W e are on v ery good terms ," Clary s aid at once. "I like Sarah. No, I can' t believ e
s he would be that dev ious ."
"Perhaps s he hopes that y ou will win Mr. Martin away from his my s terious mis tres s and marry
him y ours elf."
"You mean y ou think Sarah has chos en me as the future Mrs . Martin?" Clary gav e a s urpris ed
laugh. "Good heav ens , the thought nev er occurred to me."
"Mis s Cummings , it s eems to me that y ou nev er think at all about truly important s ubjects ,"
Madam Ros e s aid. "You ought alway s to ques tion the motiv es of thos e people with whom y ou
deal."
"You are right about that. If I had ques tioned my hus band' s motiv es before marry ing him, my life
would hav e been a lot happier. Madam Ros e, I wis h I' d had an adv is er like y ou y ears ago."
"Then y ou appreciate the truth of all I hav e been telling y ou this morning," s aid Madam Ros e. At
a loud nois e from the direction of the s treet outs ide, s he turned her attention from Clary .
" W hatev er can that be?"
The two women has tened to the front door to find a crowd of about 20 men and women gathered in
the s treet jus t bey ond the v eranda.

In the forefront was Hez ekiah Bartram.
"There s he is ," the little man cried dramatically , pointing a finger at Madam Ros e. "The W hore of
Baby lon. There ain' t no place for her and her girls in a decent town like this ."
Madam Ros e s tepped fearles s ly to the edge of her v eranda.
" W hy , Hez ekiah," s he s aid, laughing, "y ou were not s o determined to s ee me and my girls
remov ed from town an hour ago when y ou were in an ups tairs room threatening to cut the throat
of poor Hermione if s he did not perform certain uns peakable acts for y our pleas ure--and at a
greatly reduced price, too. I will not tolerate v iolence, and the prices in my hous e are not open to
bargaining. I had ev ery right to remov e y ou from the premis es ."
"He alway s was a tightfis ted man," s omeone in workman' s clothes s houted.
" W ho alway s liked a tightfis ted girl," another man s houted, this s ally making thos e gathered in
the s treet laugh aloud or titter behind their hands , depending upon their gender.
"Thos e of y ou who patroniz e my hous e know that it is clean, and s o are my girls ," Madam Ros e
s aid to the crowd. "W e s erv e a us eful purpos e here by keeping the men who work on the canal
content s o that they do not bother the res pectable ladies , and s o that they drink ins ide rather than
in the s treets . Hez ekiah, I think y our unhappines s s tems more from the fact that I pers onally
ejected y ou from the hous e than from any true s ens e of moral outrage. Your
dignity was hurt when a mere woman lifted y ou off y our feet and carried y ou outs ide."
"Sorry I mis s ed that," one of the men in the crowd cried. "Madam Ros e carry ing Hez ekiah. Haw,
haw." The others began to laugh with him. Hez ekiah Bartram' s grim face turned a dull s hade of
red.
"I s ugges t that y ou good people return to y our work now," Madam Ros e s aid, s miling at them with
all the eas e of a s tar performer.
The crowd s lowly dis pers ed until only Hez ekiah Bartram was left s tanding in the s treet, glaring at
Madam Ros e and at Clary .
"You ain' t s een the las t of me," he growled. "Nor y our girls neither. I' ll s ee to it that y ou all get
what y ou des erv e and that ev ery body from Bohemia Village to Newbold' s Landing knows about
it." The look he s ent Clary included her with the res t of Madam Ros e' s girls .
"You will not be admitted to my hous e again," Madam Ros e told him. "You will hav e to take y our
pleas ure els ewhere. Come, Mis s Cummings ." She s pun on her heel and walked into the hous e,
Clary following her. Dancy met them jus t ins ide the door.
" W hat' s goin' on?" he demanded. "I heard the nois e, and s omeone s aid there was trouble
brewin' ."
"I took care of it," Madam Ros e told him. "It was only Hez ekiah Bartram complaining again. I
hav e forbidden him entrance here in the future."
"That man is mean," Dancy s aid. "I think it' s

' caus e he' s s o s hort. Short men think they hav e to prov e they ' re jus t as good as us tall fellows ."
"Be that as it may , we will not receiv e Mr. Bartram again, and," Madam Ros e s aid, rais ing her
v oice s o her employ ees could hear her, "any girl who has dealings with him away from this
hous e will los e her job the moment I hear of it. Is that unders tood? He might hav e killed poor
Hermione, and he could jus t as eas ily kill any one of y ou."
" W hat the dev il happened here?" Jack appeared through a doorway that, as clos ely as Clary
could tell, mus t lead from the kitchen into the main room. He looked around the room until he
found Clary . "Are y ou all right?"
"Of cours e," s he s aid. "Madam Ros e and I can take care of ours elv es ."
W hile Madam Ros e filled Jack in on the details of the incident with Hez ekiah Bartram, Dancy
went to the bar and poured out four big glas s es of whis key . One of thes e he handed to Clary .
"You better drink this ," Dancy s aid. "You look like y ou' re s till s cared. I s ure am. That Mr. Bartram
giv es me chills ." W ith that, Dancy s wallowed an entire glas s of whis key in one gulp.
"I was not afraid," Clary declared.
"That' s what s he alway s s ay s , too." Dancy looked toward Madam Ros e. "But s he alway s drinks
one of thes e right down after a cus tomer caus es her that kind of trouble. I wis h s he' d giv e up this
life and run an eatin' place ins tead."
"Sarah s aid s omething like that, too," Clary obs erv ed.
"Sarah knows what s he' s talkin' about." Dancy carried the two remaining glas s es of whis key to
Madam Ros e and Jack. Admitting to hers elf that Dancy was right and Hez ekiah Bartram' s v icious
threats had uns ettled her, Clary took a s mall s ip of the liquor. It burned all the way down her
throat, and s he put the glas s down on the counter without drinking the res t.
"Thank y ou, Dancy ." Jack took the whis key Dancy handed to him, and then he turned to Clary . "I
hav e made all the purchas es I intended to make here in the v illage and hav e packed them in the
cart. Luke has s old jus t about ev ery thing we brought into town, s o he is preparing to leav e."
"But we jus t got here," Clary protes ted.
" W ith Hez ekiah Bartram lurking about, I want y ou s afely away from Bohemia Village," Jack s aid.
"You s hould be able to reach the farm well before nightfall. No one would dare to bother y ou
there. Madam Ros e, might Clary borrow one of y our guns for a few day s ? I want to take my own
with me."
"Gun?" Clary echoed. "W hat for?"
"For protection, s o y ou will be able to defend y ours elf if it s hould prov e neces s ary ," Jack told her.
"Guns terrify me. I don' t ev en like to look at them. If driv ing back to the farm is going to be
dangerous , why couldn' t Luke and I jus t s tay in town ov er night?" s he as ked.

"You would s till hav e to go home tomorrow," Jack pointed out. "Nor is there a s uitable place for
y ou to s leep."
"Perhaps we could rent a room from Madam Ros e." At once, realiz ing what s he had s aid, Clary
began to blus h.
"Ev en if I had the s pace to accommodate y ou, my hous e would be a mos t uns uitable place, Mis s
Cummings ," Madam Ros e s aid. "Surely y ou unders tand that. If y ou were to s pend a night
beneath my roof, y our reputation would be ruined. It is already tarnis hed by the time y ou hav e
s pent here today . Do not make matters wors e for y ours elf."
"I don' t giv e a damn about my reputation!" Clary cried.
" W ell, y ou s hould," Madam Ros e s aid. "Once los t, a woman' s reputation is almos t impos s ible to
recov er. I know of only one or two ladies who hav e s ucceeded in doing s o."
"You cannot s tay in town," Jack put in, "becaus e Sarah and Mos es ex pect y ou to return this
ev ening. If y ou and Luke do not appear as planned, y ou will caus e them cons iderable worry ."
"I hadn' t thought of that," Clary admitted.
"Mis s Cummings , as I adv is ed y ou earlier today , y ou really ought to learn forethought," Madam
Ros e s aid. "You s peak--and I s us pect y ou act--altogether too impetuous ly ."
"And s ometimes incoherently ," Jack murmured, a wicked light in his ey es . Then, s obering, he
s aid, "Clary , y ou will leav e for Afon Farm
within the hour, and though I doubt that Hez ekiah Bartram will come after y ou, I s till want y ou to
take a gun along, jus t as a precaution."
"Couldn' t Luke hav e the gun?" Clary as ked.
"Luke is not in the bes t of health at the moment. I do not believ e he will be able to s ee well
enough to fire a gun."
"Luke is s ick?" Clary as ked, ins tantly concerned. "He was fine this morning."
"He is not ill. Luke was inv olv ed in an altercation. It s eems he is fond of Emmie, the girl who
works in Madam Ros e' s kitchen," Jack told the women. "Unfortunately for Luke, one of the canal
workers als o likes Emmie and believ es he has a prior claim on her affections . I am afraid their
dis pute carne to blows ."
"Is Luke badly hurt? W here is he?" Clary demanded.
"I would not interfere if I were y ou," Jack s aid. "At the moment Luke and the other y oung man are
in the kitchen with Emmie and Lucy both tending to their s omewhat minor injuries . I notice that
Dancy has jus t been s ummoned. He will no doubt giv e his nephew and the other fellow a proper
dres s ing-down." Seeing that Jack s eemed more amus ed than worried about Luke, Clary relax ed.
"Mr. Martin," Madam Ros e s aid, s haking a finger at him, "ev ery time y ou v is it my hous e, s ome
problem occurs . If y ou are not more careful, I will be forced to refus e y ou entrance to the
premis es ."

"If I go," s aid Jack, giv ing her a mis chiev ous grin, "s o goes Sam."
"You are all alike." Madam Ros e rais ed her finger again. "Black or white, y oung or old, men are
nothing but brawling little boy s . Has any of my furniture or my precious china been damaged by
this kitchen battle of y outhful, would-be lov ers ?"
"The actual battle took place outs ide," Jack s aid. "Luke los t a bas ket of tomatoes when he fell on
them and crus hed them to a pulp, and s ome of his apples rolled into the canal. Other wis e, little
harm was done. Luke has a blood\ nos e and he will hav e a s wollen ey e for a day or two. The
other boy has only s craped knuckles ."
"Dis graceful." Madam Ros e s hook her head at this s tory , but Clary could s ee how her ey es
s parkled with humor.
"I will get the gun." Madam Ros e s tepped behind the bar. Reaching down s he brought out a pis tol
and laid it on the counter. She gav e Jack a s hrewd look. "Since s he profes s es a dis tas te for
weapons , I s ugges t that y ou load it for Mis s Cummings in order to lower the chance of a mis fire if
s he has to us e it."
"That looks like a real antique!" Clary ex claimed, hurry ing acros s the room to look at it more
clos ely . "Is it a flintlock?"
" W hat els e would it be?" Madam Ros e as ked.
"It is certainly not the newes t of pis tols ," Jack agreed, "but when properly fired, it is mos t
effectiv e."
"I don' t know how to fire it." Clary bit her lip,
contemplating the weapon with unhappy fas cination.
"I am going to s how y ou how to do it. Hold it like this ." Jack put the pis tol into her hands . The
s tock was made of walnut wood worn s mooth from y ears of handling. The barrel was iron, and the
firing mechanis m was bras s , though it was in s erious need of polis hing.
"It is not loaded," Jack told her, "s o y ou need not be afraid of it. Hold it out as though y ou were
pointing at s omething. No, not s o clos e to y our face. If it mis fires , it could blind y ou."
"Gee, thanks a lot!" The pis tol was s o heav y that Clary had to hold it in both hands . Feeling like a
character from a cos tume mov ie, s he put a finger on the trigger and held the gun s traight out in
front of her.
"That is a little better." Jack adjus ted her grip and her s tance. "You will hav e to cock the hammer
before pulling the trigger." He took the gun from her and demons trated.
"I really think I will need a lot more practice before I try to us e this thing," Clary s aid.
"Nons ens e." Madam Ros e took the gun, pointing and cocking it with impres s iv e eas e. "You s ee
how s imple it is ?"
"Hav e y ou ev er had to us e it?" Clary as ked her.
"Occas ionally , to threaten troublemakers ," Madam Ros e replied, "which may be all y ou will need
to do. Or y ou may v ery well arriv e s afely at Afon Farm without hav ing to touch the gun at all."

"I will load it," Jack s aid, holding out his hand.
"I do know how." But Madam Ros e gav e the gun to him and brought from behind the bar the
s upplies he would require. Clary watched while Jack poured powder down the barrel, ins erted a
cotton wad and ball, and us ed a rod to ram the ball agains t the powder. "Now a little powder in the
pan," he s aid. "If y ou find y ours elf in a s ituation where y ou are forced to us e the gun, y ou will
hav e only to cock the hammer, aim, and pull the trigger." "Be prepared for the recoil," Madam
Ros e warned.
"Let' s hope I don' t hav e to us e the bloody thing," Clary res ponded. "But jus t in cas e, how clos e
do I hav e to be to my target if I' m going to hav e any chance of hitting s omeone? Oh, my God, I
can' t believ e I' m talking like this !" "Count on twenty feet," Jack told her. "perhaps a little more,
but s ince y ou are uns killed with firearms , y our aim is likely to be undependable." "You can s ay
that again," Clary muttered,
"I hav e already s aid it," Jack replied. He cocked an ey ebrow at her. "Is that one of y our local
phras es ?" Clary nodded. Holding the gun in one hand, Jack tilted her chin upward with the other.
She thought for a moment that he might kis s her, but he ran a finger acros s her lips ins tead. "I do
not s erious ly ex pect that y ou will face any danger on y our way home," he s aid. "It is
220
Lov e Jus t in Time only that I do not want to take any chances with y our life. Or with Luke' s life
either. Clary , y ou will hav e to driv e." "That will be a lot eas ier than handling a pis tol," s he s aid. "I
hav e had a fair amount of practice driv ing the cart on the farm during the pas t few weeks ." "I
know. I am depending on y ou, Clary ." Again his fingertips traced her mouth.
"Hav e a good trip," s he whis pered.
" W hen I return, y ou and I will hav e a s erious dis cus s ion." His v oice was pitched too low for
Madam Ros e to hear him. "Does that mean y ou will finally giv e me s ome hones t ans wers about
y our pas t?" Clary as ked.
"I will endeav or to make arrangements to do s o," he s aid.
" W hat the hell is that s uppos ed to mean?"
She s poke too loudly . Jack dropped his hand. Madam Ros e frowned at her coars e language.
Clary would hav e apologiz ed, but Dancy returned to the main room, bringing Luke with him. The
boy had a s plit lip and his nos e and left ey e were badly s wollen. He had been cleaned up and
was wearing one of Dancy ' s s hirts and holding a cloth to his s till-bleeding nos e. "W ait till y our
mother s ees y ou," Clary told him.
"She won' t be happy ," Luke agreed, "but it was worth it. Lucy s aid I was wonderful."
"Lucy ? I thought the fight was ov er Emmie!"
"Don' t as k, Miz Clary ." Dancy rolled his ey es and s hrugged his s houlders . "After lis tenin' to

thos e four y oung folks in the kitchen, my poor old head is s pinnin' in bewilderment. The boy s that
were fightin' are friends now. Any way s , what y ou s aid about Sarah is true. She' ll want to take
Luke' s hide off him when s he learns what he' s been doin' here in town. Only trouble is , he' s too
big for her to s pank any more."
"If I know any thing about Sarah," Clary res ponded, "s he will do all the neces s ary punis hing with
one or two well-chos en s entences ."
"Luke," s aid Madam Ros e, "I s trongly adv is e y ou to leav e Bohemia Village at once before 7
decide to remov e y our hide and s av e Sarah the trouble. Do not return to my hous e until y ou are
able to behav e y ours elf in a more gentlemanly fas hion."
"Yes , ma' am." Luke hung his head. "Come on." Clary touched his arm. "Let' s clear out of here
before they run both of us out of town on a rail."
"Miz Clary , what' s that mean?" as ked Luke. "Nev er mind. Jus t find the cart and get into it. I' m
driv ing."
Jack brought the cart to the front of Madam Ros e' s hous e. He gav e Clary a hand to lift her up to
the s eat bes ide him. There they s at for a minute, with their thighs pres s ed together and Clary ' s
hand s till in his . In s pite of her dis enchantment at his refus al to rev eal his true s elf to her, the
attraction he held for Clary remained as s trong as ev er. She s way ed toward him.
"I regret that I cannot accompany y ou home," he s aid, "but there is not enough time. The boat
on which I hav e booked pas s age will enter the firs t lock in two hours and later today I am
ex pected els ewhere for appointments ."
"Including W ilmington?" Clary drew back, putting dis tance between them. She could not deny to
hers elf that s he wanted him s till, but s he could not trus t him to behav e honorably and s he could
not believ e what he s aid to her. At the mention of W ilmington, s he s aw a v eil come down acros s
his ey es , and his hands ome features grew tight and dis tant.
"I hav e s ev eral appointments in W ilmington," he s aid coolly , "and s ev eral more in Philadelphia."
"Philly ," s he murmured. He tens ed, looking s harply at her before, jus t as s uddenly , he relax ed.
"Of cours e," he s aid. "Your familiar name for the city . I remember now. Take care, Clary . I am
depending on y ou to get Luke home s afely ."
He put the reins into her hands and jumped out of the cart. Luke climbed in bes ide her, where
Jack had been. W ith a las t wav e to Madam Ros e and Dancy , Clary drov e away from Bohemia
Village. They had not gone far before Luke doubled ov er.
"I don' t feel s o good," he informed her, "and this bouncin' don' t help my s tomach none."
"Do y ou want me to take y ou back to Madam Ros e' s ?" Clary as ked him.
"No. W e got to get home tonight or Mama will be real worried. May be if I s tretch out down there in
the back and put my head on that s ack

of flour and clos e my ey es for a while, I might feel better."
"That' s a good idea." Clary s lowed the hors e until Luke climbed off the s eat and lay down in the
cart.
"Are y ou comfortable?" s he as ked, twis ting around to s ee him.
"Yes , ma' am. I' m ly ing' in y our s hadow. It' s cooler here. I might fall as leep."
"Go right ahead."
Clary urged the hors e to mov e fas ter, hoping to get home before the cart ride could make Luke
s erious ly ill. The road and the green lands cape s lipped quickly pas t. There was no chance that
s he would become los t. On the way to Afon Farm there was only one fork in the road, at which s he
would bear right, and there were no cros s roads at all. There was no s ound from behind her.
"Luke?" Clary looked around to dis cov er him fas t as leep. A light touch of one hand to his
forehead as s ured her that he was not fev eris h. She returned her attention to the hors e and the
road.
The hors eman came out of the trees at a gal lop and did not s top until he was planted firmly in
the middle of the road, his pos ition forcing Clary to pull the cart to a full s top. She knew at once
who he was , and a chill ran along her s pine when s he s aw the hard and crafty ex pres s ion on his
face.
Chapter Twelv e
Hez ekiah Bartram lounged forward in his s addle to lean on his hors e' s neck, but Clary knew he
was not as relax ed as he was try ing to appear. Her v ery firs t glimps e of him had s hown her how
determined he was .
" W ell, now," he drawled, leering at her, "what hav e we here, driv in' down the road all alone? Ain' t
y ou the new girl at Madam Ros e' s ?"
"I am not," Clary declared. "You are mis taken. Mov e as ide, Mr. Bartram, and let me pas s ."
"You can pas s when I' m done with y ou," he replied, "but that won' t be for a long time. I got needs
that Madam Ros e ain' t about to let me s atis fy at her place, s o I' ll jus t hav e to do it els ewhere.
You be a good girl for me, and may be I won' t s end y ou back there. May be I' ll jus t keep y ou for
my s elf. That' d teach uppity Madam Ros e a les s on, wouldn' t it?"
"Luke," Clary whis pered while Hez ekiah Bartram

was s till s peaking, "are y ou awake?"
"Yes , ma' am," came a frightened ans wering whis per from down in the cart.
"Stay where y ou are until y ou hav e a good chance to jump up and s urpris e him."
"Miz Clary ," Luke as ked, "y ou plannin' to us e that gun?"
"Let' s hope I don' t hav e to." Clary took a firmer grip on the reins and rais ed her v oice, cutting
acros s Hez ekiah Bartram' s continuing promis es to hav e his las civ ious way with her. "I s aid let
me pas s , Mr. Bartram. I am not who y ou think I am, and I hav e no intention of going any where
with y ou."
"Ain' t y ou the brav e little lady ?" Hez ekiah Bartram kicked his hors e, s idling clos er. Leaning ov er
he caught the harnes s at the cart hors e' s head. W hile his attention was momentarily div erted
Clary s hifted her pos ition on the cart s eat s o her s kirts would cov er the gun ly ing on the floor at
her feet. W ith one toe s he gently nudged the gun along until it was jus t below her right hand.
W hile doing this , s he kept her ey es on Hez ekiah Bartram and s he tried to hide her growing
apprehens ion behind a mas k of righteous indignation.
"Let go of my hors e," s he ordered. "I don' t feel like it." The man gav e her an ins olent grin that s et
Clary ' s teeth on edge. She wanted to s lap his face. "In fact, I think I' ll jus t s lip onto this hors e and
guide him right where I want him to go." He s wung one leg up on his own hors e' s back as if he
were preparing to
leap off it and onto the hors e that was pulling Clary ' s cart.
"Don' t y ou dare!" Dropping the reins , Clary lunged for the gun and came up holding it in both
hands . She pointed it at Hez ekiah Bartram.
"That old thing ain' t loaded," he declared with cons iderable brav ado. But he mus t hav e doubted
his own words , becaus e he took his hand off Clary ' s hors e and put his foot back into the s tirrup.
Clary kept the gun lev eled at his heart.
"It mos t certainly is loaded," s he ins is ted, "and I know how to us e it. Now mov e away ."
"You ain' t goin' ta kill me. You' re jus t teas in' ."
"I wouldn' t bet my life on that if I were y ou," Clary warned. "Get out of the road and let me go by !"
It occurred to her that if he obey ed her, he could eas ily purs ue the heav ily packed cart and s he
would not be able to outrun him. Nor could s he handle the reins and a gun at the s ame time. She
s incerely hoped Hez ekiah Bartram would not think of that.
"I ain' t goin' nowhere, ' caus e y ou ain' t got the s trength to fire that thing," he s aid, laughing at her.
"Look at y ou, y our hands are s hakin' !"
Clary s ens ed that the moment of truth was fas t rus hing upon her. She could almos t hear Jack' s
v oice telling her again how he was depending on her to get Luke s afely home to his parents . She
would do what was neces s ary to fulfill Jack' s trus t in her. She took her left hand off the gun and
us ed it to cock the pis tol as Jack had taught her. Then s he put both hands around the s tock again,
with both index fingers on the trigger.

"Take one s tep nearer and I will s hoot," s he s aid. Unfortunately , her v oice wav ered and Hez ekiah
Bartram jus t laughed at her threat. Then he urged his hors e directly toward her. I
"I' m warning y ou!" Clary knew s he had no ' choice. She had no doubt at all that Hez ekiah Bartram
would dis arm her if he could, and then he would v ery likely turn the gun on Luke, who was s till
crouching uns een jus t behind her. And when Luke was dead, Hez ekiah Bartram would rape her.
She could not let that happen. As ide from the pers onal danger s he faced, Luke--and Jack--were
depending on her. Clary s queez ed the trigger as hard as s he could.
At the s ame ins tant that Clary fired the pis tol, Luke leapt to his feet with a wild, ears plitting y ell
There was a tremendous flas h of light jus t in front of Clary and a deafening nois e that s eemed to
her to rumble on and on, echoing and reechoing like thunder. The s ound left her ears ringing. She
s aw Hez ekiah Bartram tumble off his rearing, s creaming hors e like a figure in a s low-motion
s cene.
The recoil from the pis tol forced Clary ' s arms upward and pus hed her back off the s eat and into
the cart. She landed on top of Luke, with her s traw bonnet knocked as kew ov er her face.
"Miz Clary , are y ou all right?" Luke helped her to s it up and took the pis tol out of her hands . Clary
attempted to s traighten her bonnet but s he nearly fell flat again when the cart began to plunge
forward along the road at breakneck s peed. She tore at the ribbons , pulling the hat
off s o s he could s ee what was happening.
"The hors e is bolting!" Luke y elled. He v aulted onto the s eat to grab at the reins . They s lipped
out of his hands and he dov e after them, reaching far ov er the front of the cart.
"Luke, be careful!" Clary s tood up to catch at the s traps of his ov eralls , pulling him back onto the
s eat.
"I got ' em!" Luke s houted.
"I can help!" Clary climbed onto the s eat bes ide him and put her hands on the reins jus t below
his . It took the combined efforts of both of them s awing hard on the reins to bring the panicked
hors e to a trot, then to a walk, and finally to a trembling, s norting halt.
"Oh, Luke," Clary gas ped, "for a minute there, I thought we weren' t going to make it."
"Me, too." Looking at her, Luke s tarted to laugh uproarious ly . At firs t Clary feared he might be
hy s terical and s he was n' t s ure what s he ought to do with him, but then s he realiz ed that he was
genuinely amus ed. "Miz Clary , I wis h y ou could s ee y ours elf. Your face and hands are s o black.
You look like a black lady ."
"I do?" Clary looked down at hers elf. The s leev es and bodice of her gray cotton gown were
liberally dus ted with black, as were her hands and wris ts . She rubbed at the backs of her hands .
"Good grief, this s tuff is like s oot. It will take a lot of s oap and hot water to get it off."
" W hat' ll we do now?" Luke as ked. "If y ou mis s ed s hootin' Mr. Bartram, he' s goin' to come

after us , and he' s goin' to be real angry ."
"If I didn' t mis s him," Clary s aid, "he could be ly ing in the road bleeding. He' s a terrible pers on,
but we can' t let him bleed to death." "You mean y ou want to help him?" Luke gaped at her.
"I think we hav e to find out if he' s hurt or not," Clary s aid. "If I s hot him, then it' s my
res pons ibility to s ee that he gets the care he needs ." Luke cons idered this idea for a few minutes
while Clary tried to s teady her breathing and s top the s haking of her hands .
"If Mr. Bartram does need s ewin' up," Luke s ugges ted, grinning, "may be y ou could let me
practice on him. That would be a fine punis hment for what he tried to do to us ." "Luke, that' s
awful!" She meant to be s tern, but s uddenly they were both conv uls ed with laughter. They leaned
agains t each other, whooping and howling, while tears ran down Clary ' s face and s he wiped them
away with blackened fingers and then, for lack of a handkerchief, wiped her running nos e on her
dirty s leev e. "I feel s o much better now," s he s aid when s he could s peak again. "I don' t think I
hav e ev er been s o frightened in all my life." "Me neither," Luke agreed.
"It' s not ov er y et." Brav ely Clary s traightened her s houlders . "Let' s get this cart turned around
and driv e back to s urv ey the damage." They found Hez ekiah Bartram ly ing s prawled on the road.
He did not mov e when Clary pulled he cart to a s top nex t to him. There was no s ign I his hors e.
Clary as s umed it was finding its own way back to its home.
"Is he dead?" as ked Luke, s ending a fas cinated look toward the immobile man.
"I can' t tell from here. You s tay in the cart." Clary began to climb down to the road.
"Be careful," Luke whis pered as if he feared to waken Hez ekiah Bartram.
"I will." Clary approached from the s ide. Cautious ly , s he prodded at an ankle with her foot.
Hez ekiah Bartram did not mov e. Still us ing her loot, Clary pus hed agains t his hip, and then
gently nudged him in the ribs . Finally s he crouched down nex t to his head and put a hand agains t
his neck. "He' s aliv e," s he reported with cons iderable relief. "At leas t I won' t hav e his death on
my cons cience. I can feel the puls e in his neck, but he is out cold." Luke s crambled down to join
Clary in the middle of the road. He s tood with hands on his hips , gaz ing down at the uncons cious
man. "You' re not gonna driv e away and leav e him here," Luke s aid s lowly . "You' d nev er do that.
So we got to get him into the cart."
"I can help y ou lift him," Clary s aid. "He' s not v ery big, s o he can' t be too heav y . W e' ll take him
back to Bohemia Village. Help me s hift s ome of thos e s acks and box es s o we can fit him into the
back." Their preparations quickly made, Clary and Luke lifted Hez ekiah Bartram and s hov ed him

into the cart. They were not gentle with him, but that didn' t concern Clary . She was jus t reliev ed to
know that her s hot had apparently gone wild, and the man' s injuries were the res ult of the fall
from his hors e. "Luke, I want y ou to s it in the back and hold the gun on him," Clary s aid, "jus t in
cas e he wakes up along the way ."
"But y ou fired a s hot from the gun and we got no ball or powder to reload it," Luke protes ted.
" W e know that," s he s aid, "but Hez ekiah Bartram is uncons cious , s o he can' t know that we
hav en' t reloaded it. Jus t pretend, Luke." "I know." Luke grinned at her. "I' ll tell him that, if he
mov es , I' ll put a ball right in his ches t."
"May be y ou ought to cons ider becoming an actor ins tead of a doctor," Clary retorted dry ly .
Clary ' s s econd arriv al in Bohemia Village in one day attracted cons iderable interes t. W ell aware
that her blackened face and hands would caus e curious comment, s he kept her ey es fix ed on the
road and did not res pond to the ques tions called out to her. Sam MacKenz ie had finis hed his
bus ines s at the pump hous e and had s tarted back toward the v illage. He met Jack Martin, who
was about to s tep onto the footbridge jus t as Sam s tepped off it. The two men s tood talking until
the racket of a cart racing down Bohemia Av enue and the s ounds of loud v oices caught their
attention. Clary s aw Jack and Sam meet and s hake hands . She drov e the cart right up to them,
bringing it to a halt with a bit of a flouris h. She definitely enjoy ed s eeing the incredulous look on
Jack' s face, and s he liked ev en more the note of anx iety in his v oice. "My God, Clary , what has
happened to y ou?"
Clary jumped from the cart into his waiting arms . Not until s he felt him enclos e her in a tight
embrace did s he believ e the afternoon' s ordeal was finis hed. "I' ll ruin y our clean s hirt," s he
murmured, pres s ing her powder-s meared face agains t his ches t.
"That does n' t matter. Sweetheart, are y ou hurt?"
"No. No, I' m fine. Jus t a bit dis hev eled, that' s all."
Jack s hifted Clary in his arms . She looked up at Luke, who was s tanding in the cart. He s till held
the pis tol pointed downward toward the man ly ing at his feet. "Luke, giv e me the gun." Jack put
up his hand and Luke laid the pis tol in it with an air that s ugges ted he was glad to be rid of both
the weapon and the res pons ibility of s tanding guard. "I think he' s s tartin' to wake up," Luke s aid.
" W ho do y ou hav e in there?" Jack as ked. "Dare I gues s ?"
W hile they were talking, Sam MacKenz ie walked around to the back of the cart. Reaching forward
he dragged a groggy Hez ekiah Bartram up by his s hirtfront and s tood him on his feet. "Hez ekiah,
lad, I hav e a feeling that y ou are in s erious trouble," Sam s aid to him.

Clary pus hed hers elf out of Jack' s embrace to s tart toward Sam and the man he was holding
"Mr. Bartram s topped us on the road," Clary informed the mos tly mas culine crowd gathering
around them. "He apparently believ ed that I was one of Madam Ros e' s girls and he wanted me to
go with him. He was quite clear about what he ex pected of me."
"Did he touch y ou?" Jack' s hands clamped hard on Clary ' s upper arms , holding her s till. "If he
laid one finger on y ou, I will pers onally --"
"He nev er got near the cart," Clary s aid. "Luke jumped up y elling to s care him, and I fired the
gun. Then Mr. Bartram' s hors e threw him. That' s why he was uncons cious . I' m afraid my bullet
mis s ed him by a mile."
"That' s ex actly how it happened." Luke jumped down from the cart, grinning broadly . "Miz Clary
was magnificent!"
"You were no s louch y ours elf, Luke," Clary told him, grinning back at him. "You were the one who
s topped the hors e when it bolted. I could nev er hav e handled it by my s elf."
"The hors e bolted?" Jack' s grip on Clary tightened.
"I told y ou," Clary s aid, "I am not hurt." She ex pected him to make s ome remark to the effect that
he was glad s he and Luke had come through the ex perience uns cathed. Ins tead, he began to
s cold her.
"If y ou had remained on the farm, where I wanted y ou to be," he s aid, frowning at her, "this would
nev er hav e happened."
"Don' t s tart that again!" Clary rais ed both hands in a rapid ges ture, breaking Jack' s hold on her.
"It' s not my fault if Hez ekiah Bartram is s ome kind of s ex maniac. The man ought to be locked
up!"
"She' s right about that," Sam MacKenz ie agreed. Rais ing his v oice, he added, "W ho' ll take this
reprobate into cus tody ?"
"I will." A man dres s ed in plain dark garb and a flat black hat s tepped forward. To Clary ' s ey es he
looked like pictures s he had s een of W illiam Penn. Her as s umption that he mus t be a Quaker
was v erified by his nex t words . "I am Jos iah Grey . As a member of the Religious Society of
Friends , I believ e it is my duty to take this man into my care and to remons trate with him about
the error of his way s ."
"I wis h y ou luck with him," Clary s aid with s ome s harpnes s . "In my opinion, he' s craz y ."
"If indeed he is craz ed, then he will receiv e good care until his wits are in order once more,"
Jos iah Grey told her with polite grav ity .
"If y ou are wis e, s ir, y e' ll tie him up before y e take him away ," Sam adv is ed.
"Res traint will not be neces s ary . Gentle pers uas ion will do." Jos iah Grey put a helping hand on
Hez ekiah Bartram' s elbow. "Come along, friend. My hous e is on the north s ide of the canal.
There I will care for y our injuries and prov ide a room where y ou may res t."
" W hat this town needs ," Clary s aid, watching Jos iah Grey leading his s till-groggy charge acros s
the footbridge ov er Back Creek and then

on toward the canal, "is a jail and a couple of competent policemen."
"And what y ou need," Sam told her, fores talling what was apparently going to be a heated remark
from Jack, "is s oap and clean clothes . Las s ie, it' s back to Madam Ros e' s with y e for another
bath."
"Now there I agree with y ou, Sam." Madam Ros e s houldered her way through the onlookers who
remained after Hez ekiah Bartram was taken away . "Mis s Cummings , I hav e jus t heard the news .
I am mos t dis tres s ed by what has happened to y ou, and I feel a certain res pons ibility . I trus t y ou
are unharmed? And Luke, too?"
" W e are both fine," Clary as s ured her, "though I think Sam is right and I will hav e to impos e upon
y our hos pitality once more."
"No." Jack broke into this conv ers ation. "Clary and Luke are to go back to Afon Farm immediately .
She can take a bath once s he gets there. Sam, I want y ou to es cort them. Us e my hors e. I won' t
require it while I am trav eling by boat. You can ride the s ame hors e back to town tomorrow and
leav e it here for my return."
Hearing Jack' s imperious tone, Clary ' s fraz z led nerv es s napped. "Did it ev er occur to y ou to as k
my opinion before y ou s tart making decis ions about my life?" s he s houted at him. "I am not
going any where until I get this black junk off my face and hands , and I want to change into clean
clothes ."
"Claris s a, y ou are creating a s pectacle." Jack s pared a quick glance at the onlookers , who
appeared to ex pect s ome new form of entertainment from the building argument. "I know Jos iah
Grey . He is an ex ces s iv ely kindhearted man and I believ e his cus tody of Hez ekiah Bartram will
be entirely too lax . Bartram will find it eas y to ev ade Mr. Grey , and he may come back into town
looking for y ou. Therefore, I want y ou and Luke to reach the farm before nightfall.
"Luke may return to Bohemia Village in his father' s company when neces s ary but y ou, Mis s
Cummings , are to remain at the farm until my return. Now y ou are both to leav e at once, as will I.
The boat on which I am s cheduled to trav el is delay ing its departure for my benefit." "Do y ou
mean that y ou s till intend to go on this ridiculous trip?" Clary was afraid s he would break down
and s tart to cry right there in public. She was s till s uffering from her frightening epis ode with
Hez ekiah Bartram and from firing a gun at another human being, and s he wanted and needed
comfort. Jack' s firs t brief embrace and his concern for her had been gratify ing, but s he wis hed he
would take her into his arms and hold her clos e. Ins tead, he planned to s end her off to the farm
with s omeone els e. Sam MacKenz ie was a nice man, but he was n' t Jack. "I can' t believ e y ou are
doing this to me," s he s aid to Jack.
"I hav e little choice. I mus t be on that canal boat if I am to meet the Philadelphia-bound s hip that
is s cheduled to leav e Newbold' s Landing on the Delaware at noon two day s from now. It is
important that I keep my appointments along

the canal and in Philadelphia. You will be perfectly s afe in Sam' s care."
"That is n' t the point," s he began.
"I think it is . You acquitted y ours elf well this afternoon. I ex pect y ou to continue doing s o. You
will leav e for Afon Farm as s oon as Sam can s addle my hors e." Jack gav e her a hard look.
"Clary , I hav e my reas ons for what I am doing. You mus t trus t me. I beg y ou, make no further
protes ts ." He brus hed one finger acros s her lips as if to s ilence any words s he might hav e
s poken. W ith a nod toward Luke and Madam Ros e and a quick hands hake for Sam, he s tarted
acros s the footbridge to the canal and the boat that lay waiting in the filled lock.
"Jack!" Clary s tarted after him.
"Let him go," s aid Madam Ros e. "Men do whatev er they pleas e and y ou cannot hold on to a man
who does not want to s tay with y ou."
"He does n' t unders tand," Clary began.
"I think he unders tands all too well what y ou feel for him." Madam Ros e put an arm around
Clary ' s s houlders to keep her off the footbridge. The firm pres s ure s he ex erted s lowly drew Clary
away and turned her around s o that s he did not s ee Jack board the boat and thus s he did not
know whether he glanced back at her or not.
"Let him go," Madam Ros e s aid again.
W hen Clary finally looked toward the canal as s he mounted the s tep to Madam Ros e' s v eranda,
s he s aw that the lock gates were opened.
A mule had been hitched to the boat, and it was plodding s lowly eas tward along the tow-path,
pulling the boat. Jack was nowhere to be
s een.

Chapter Thirteen
They did not follow Jack' s orders ex actly or promptly . W hen Madam Ros e pointed out to Sam that
the cart hors e des erv ed a res t after its has ty return to Bohemia Village, Sam agreed to delay their
departure for an hour. During that time Madam Ros e s ent Luke to the kitchen to report to his
Uncle Dancy --and, pres umably , to Lucy and Emmie as well--all the details of his ex citing
afternoon.
"Tell Dancy I s aid to feed y ou," Madam Ros e ins tructed the boy . "Nor would a cup or two of hot
coffee be amis s , I think. You will find that coffee will lift y our s pirits in preparation for y our
homeward journey ."
"Yes , ma' am. Thank y ou." Luke dis appeared through the doorway to the kitchen.
"Now, Mis s Cummings , I s hall attend to y ou." Madam Ros e led the way ups tairs . "I fear the dres s
y ou are pres ently wearing is bey ond
redemption. You will require a new one."
"Ruined or not, this is the dres s I' ll hav e to wear," Clary s aid. "If y ou remember, Jack refus ed to
let me s top here to clean up and change. I don' t hav e any money of my own to pay y ou with, and
if y ou put another dres s on Jack' s bill, he' ll know I dis obey ed him."
"Are y ou s o afraid of him?" Madam Ros e gav e her a quiz z ical look, as if s he found that idea
amus ing.
"Of cours e I' m not afraid of him," Clary s napped. "It' s jus t that we' v e been arguing s o much
lately . I don' t want to caus e any more problems between us ."
"If y ou s lept with him, then he owes y ou s omething in return," s aid Madam Ros e, paus ing
outs ide the door to the wardrobe room.
"I wanted him, too," Clary s aid. "Putting a price on what we did would be immoral. I' m s orry if that
ins ults y ou, but it' s the way I feel."
"Amateur." Madam Ros e s poke s oftly , and there was an odd glow in her ey es . She looked
thoughtful for a moment, then s aid, "I believ e the pres erv ed peaches y ou brought to me earlier
today would s ell for the approx imate v alue of the s imple gown I hav e in mind for y ou."
"Thos e peaches were a gift!" Clary ex claimed, following Madam Ros e into the room s he
remembered well. It was ev en more crammed with clothes than on the firs t occas ion when s he
had s een it.
"The peaches will not, howev er, cov er the cos t of a full bath with heated water, a large towel, or

s cented s oap," Madam Ros e continued. "I will ins tead prov ide y ou with a pitcher of hot water, a
s lightly us ed cake of kitchen s oap, which will no doubt prov e more effectiv e for y our pres ent
needs than the s cented v ariety , and one s mall hand towel--all of which s hould be s ufficient for
cleaning y our face and hands . Since the road to Afon Farm is dus ty , y ou may prefer to wait until
y ou reach y our des tination before changing y our dres s ."
"I don' t believ e y ou," Clary s aid.
"I hav e s poken nothing but the truth," Madam Ros e res ponded.
"I mean, I hav e nev er met any one like y ou!" Clary ex plained.
"That is entirely pos s ible. Here is the gown." Madam Ros e held up a dark blue cotton dres s that
was not v ery different in s ty le from the dres s Clary was wearing. Tiny white flowers were wov en
into the fabric, the wais t was a bit high, the s kirt ankle length and full, the s leev es long and
gathered into matching cuffs . This new dres s als o had a fichu of white linen trimmed in lace.
"It will make me look like the local s chool-marm," Clary s aid, fingering the blue material, "but it
will be perfect for the cooler weather of autumn."
"That is what I thought. I will hav e Lucy wrap it for y ou." Taking dres s , fichu, and a white cotton
petticoat, Madam Ros e left Clary , s ending her off to the bathing room.
Clary found the black powder as difficult to remov e as s he feared it would be. Promis ing
hers elf a full bath when s he got home, s he did the bes t s he could with the s upplies Madam Ros e
had prov ided, and then s he has tened to meet Sam, who dis play ed no great des ire to leav e. She
found him in the main room on the firs t floor, talking to Madam Ros e.
"Take my warnin' , darlin' ," Sam s aid to Madam Ros e, "and hire a man to s it up there by the front
door with a loaded gun. If Hez ekiah Bartram s lips loos e from Mr. Grey ' s care, the man may come
after y ou. I don' t want y e harmed, las s ie," he finis hed in the fake accent he us ually res erv ed for
his working hours .
"Ex tra help would be cos tly ," Madam Ros e objected.
"Not hav in' it could cos t y e y er life." Sam dropped the accent to s peak with increas ing and
completely genuine emotion. "Ros e, be s ens ible. That man is a dangerous lunatic. This is n' t the
firs t time he has caus ed trouble for y ou. He ex pects y our girls to accommodate him in the mos t
dis gus ting way s , and then he calls y ou and y our employ ees W hores of Baby lon. He' s deranged,
I tell y ou!"
"Perhaps Mr. Grey will prev ail upon Mr. Bartram' s better nature," Madam Ros e s ugges ted.
"That' s not bloody likely and y ou know it! Hez ekiah Bartram has no better nature!" Sam glared at
her in ex as peration. "Ros e, I' m begging y ou to let me put one of the workmen from the canal in
here tonight as a guard."
"You would put a fox in the henhous e," Madam

Ros e told him. "I will handle the matter of Hez ekiah Bartram in my own way , Sam.
"Ah, Mis s Cummings , y ou appear to be quite res tored." Catching s ight of her gues t, Madam Ros e
left Sam and hurried toward Clary . "Are y ou ready to leav e? Lucy has placed y our new gown in
the cart."
"Once again I am beholden to y ou," Clary s aid.
"Not at all. Neither of us owes the other any thing. I trus t y ou will take care not to require my
as s is tance again."
They found Luke s itting on the cart s eat, reins in hand. Sam helped Clary up to the s eat, Madam
Ros e wav ed a hand, and they s et off for Afon Farm once more.
" W here' v e y ou been, Luke? Hav e y ou been dawdlin' along the way ?" The tall form of Mos es
emerged from the ev ening gloom as the cart came to a s top in front of the barn. Mos es s topped
s hort when he caught s ight of the mounted rider who accompanied the cart. "Mr. MacKenz ie?
W hat' s wrong?"
" W e had an adv enture," Luke announced. "Miz Clary s hot a man."
" W hat did y ou s ay ?" Sarah appeared behind her hus band.
"I didn' t hit any one," Clary as s ured her. She accepted Sam' s helping hand to dis mount from the
cart and then s he s tood quietly while Luke and Sam between them prov ided an account of the
day ' s ev ents .
"Humph," s aid Sarah in dis approv al when the tale was done. She looked from Sam to Clary ,
including both of them in her comments . "That' s what comes of as s ociatin' with fallen women--
nothin' but trouble. Now y ou men get that cart unloaded and the hors es rubbed down and s ettled
for the night. Miz Clary , y ou come with me. I' v e got water heatin' that y ou can us e for a bath, and I
want to put that dres s y ou' re wearin' into a tub to s oak ov ernight."
" W here I come from, a dres s this damaged would jus t be dis carded," Clary noted, but s he
obediently followed Sarah toward the hous e.
"That would be plain was teful. I' m s ure we can was h it clean tomorrow, and then y ou can wear it
when y ou' re workin' in the kitchen or doin' heav y hous ecleanin' ."
Now, at las t, Clary enjoy ed the hot bath s he crav ed, in the bathing s tall nex t to the kitchen. Then,
feeling greatly refres hed and wearing the blue dres s Madam Ros e had giv en her, s he met Sam in
the dining room for the meal that Sarah had concocted with les s than an hour' s notice.
"Fried ham s lices , pickles , s weet potatoes , greens , hot bis cuits and s weet butter, apple pie."
Sam s urv ey ed the s ideboard with anticipatory pleas ure. "Sometimes , when I am far away , I
dream about Sarah' s cooking."
"Speaking of going far away ," Clary s aid, allowing Sam to hold her chair for her, "did Jack
mention to y ou why it is s o important for him to be in Philadelphia this week? He was s o ins is tent
about keeping to his my s terious s chedule."

"There' s no s ecret about it," Sam ans wered. "Jack mus t hav e told y ou that he was one of the
contractors for s ev eral portions of the canal as well as for the Summit Bridge. He wanted to make
his las t ins pection well before the official opening of the canal. If there s hould prov e to be any
problems , he wanted to allow time to correct them. As for his v is it to Philadelphia, I unders tand
that he holds a fair number of s hares in the canal company . He deals with the board of directors
in his capacity as contractor and then he attends meetings of s tockholders . From what he s aid to
me I gather that his appointments in Philadelphia this week hav e to do with the grand opening
nex t month and with final work on the canal. It won' t be completely finis hed on opening day , y ou
know."
" W hy couldn' t he jus t tell me all of that hims elf?" Clary as ked.
"Didn' t he?" Sam s lanted a knowing look at her, letting Clary unders tand that he knew perfectly
well that s he was pumping him for information. In res pons e, Clary gav e up all pretens e of making
polite conv ers ation in fav or of as king more probing ques tions . She went directly to the heart of
her unhappines s with Jack' s abs ence.
" W hat kind of meeting will Jack attend in
W ilmington?"
"I don' t know." Sam bus ied hims elf with cutting the piece of ham on his plate.
"You mus t know," Clary ins is ted. "You are his friend."
"Friends don' t pry ."
"Are y ou telling me to s hut up?"
"To do what?" Fork halted in midair, Sam looked at her, openly puz z led by her twentieth-century
s lang.
"Ev en after all thes e weeks , I s till forget s ometimes ." At once s he knew he would not unders tand
thos e words becaus e he was unaware of her coming back from the future. "Forgiv e me, Sam. I
come from a place where women s ometimes s peak out of turn and us e uns eemly language. I
know I hav e no right to interrogate y ou about Jack. It' s jus t that he s eldom tells me any thing
important, and I can' t help wondering about his life before I met him."
"I hav e known Jack Martin for more than fiv e y ears ," Sam s aid. "W e hav e worked together, eaten
at the s ame table often, and s ometimes drunk too much together. On s ev eral occas ions we hav e
trav eled together. I cons ider him my bes t friend, and I know I am his friend. But there is alway s
s ome part of him that remains hidden. Now it' s my ex perience that a man will be willing to leav e
certain areas of his friend' s life priv ate if that' s the way the friend wants it. But a woman keeps
as king ques tions . W omen pry until they learn ev ery thing there is to know about a man, and
s ometimes they us e what they learn agains t him. So a man has to be careful in what he rev eals ."
"You are talking about betray al," Clary s aid. "I would nev er do that to him." "Perhaps not. But he
has n' t known y ou v ery

long, s o it could be that he' s not s ure of y ou y et. Giv e him time. He has n' t s ent y ou away from
Afon Farm, has he? That means he wants y ou there. Judging by the way he acted this afternoon,
I' d s ay he does care about y ou."
Clary could s ee that Sam was embarras s ed to find hims elf s peaking s o intimately about his bes t
friend with s omeone he had met only twice, s o s he decided to s witch to a s lightly different
s ubject. She did it with a teas ing laugh.
" W hat about y ou, Sam? Do y ou hav e deep, dark s ecrets ?"
"Doz ens of them." Sam laughed back at her. "I' ll tell y ou one. I want to own a s hip that will carry
cargo from Baltimore through the canal to W ilmington and on to Philadelphia or ev en upriv er to
Trenton. I' m a s eafaring man at heart, but at this time of my life, I would be content to s ail a s afer
cours e."
"Jack did mention s omething about this ," Clary s aid, hoping to encourage him to include her
fav orite s ubject in his conv ers ation once more.
" W e' v e dis cus s ed becoming partners , but I hav en' t s een the right s hip y et," Sam told her.
"If y ou come through the canal regularly , y ou could s ee Madam Ros e during y our s topov ers ,"
s he noted.
"Ah, y es , Ros e. I worry about her, y ou know. Bohemia Village is changing fas t. The canal workers
are beginning to mov e on to other projects and res pectable bus ines s men are coming into town
and bringing their families
with them. There is s ure to be a church built before long, and clergy men don' t approv e of Ros e' s
kind of bus ines s . Neither do the wiv es of bus ines s men. Ros e may s oon dis cov er s he has no
place in Bohemia Village. Hez ekiah Bartram' s antics were jus t the beginning of what I fear could
become pers ecution."
"Not while I hav e breath left to s ay any thing about it," Clary declared. "Madam Ros e has been
nice to me, and I hav e to tell y ou, Sam, I admire her for not giv ing in when her life fell apart back
in New Jers ey . She picked hers elf up, came here, and s tarted her own bus ines s . W hile it' s s ure
not the kind of bus ines s I would want to run, s he has made a s ucces s of it."
"You are her only female champion," Sam s aid. "Nor are there many men who would s tand up for
her. They v is it her hous e after dark, but by day light they like to pretend they are abov e s pending
time with that kind of woman."
"You' d s tand up for her," Clary s aid. "That' s another of y our s ecrets , is n' t it, Sam? You care
deeply about her. W here I come from, we would s ay y ou are in lov e with her."
"Ah, well, las s ie, let' s allow that s ecret to remain between the two of us , s hall we?"
"My lips are s ealed," Clary told him. "But I think Madam Ros e already knows that particular
s ecret about y ou. And I wouldn' t be s urpris ed if half of Bohemia Village and mos t of the canal
workers knew it, too."

Sam left early in the morning, and Clary went back to her by -now-familiar routine of helping Sarah
in the kitchen or with the hous ekeeping or working in the fields when s he was needed. She
ex pected Jack to be gone for at leas t two weeks , s o s he tried to keep hers elf bus y , hoping to
make the time go fas ter. One of the projects s he intended to get underway during the autumn and
winter was that of teaching Luke to read and write. She began by s peaking to Sarah on the
s ubject. She had s carcely begun before Sarah reminded her of ev ery thing that Jack had done for
his former s lav es , who had become his v alued employ ees .
" W hat Mos es and I hav e here on this farm is much more than I ev er dreamed of hav ing," Sarah
s aid. "Now I dream of Luke hav ing s till more. But I als o want him to be s afe, and he can' t be that
if he s tarts pus hin' hims elf up abov e folks who won' t take kindly to an educated black boy ."
"I unders tand," Clary s aid. "There is no eas y s olution to that problem, Sarah, not ev en where I
come from, though we like to think we are much more enlightened than people are here. Luke is
eager to learn and we can' t deny him that pleas ure, though his eagernes s may diminis h as he
realiz es how difficult it will be. I could try to teach him to read and write and do numbers , and
we' ll jus t s ee how he progres s es . At the v ery leas t, if he can read, he will pos s es s a s kill that will
enrich his life."
"I wis h I could read," Sarah s aid. "I memoriz ed s ome Ps alms when I was little, ' caus e the mas ter
in the hous e where I was us ed to read them to the family and the hous e s lav es ev ery ev ening. I
s ay thos e Ps alms ov er and ov er on Sunday s , but knowin' how to read would be much better."
"I could teach y ou, too," Clary offered.
"Not me, I' m too old now for s chool," Sarah replied in a v oice that allowed no argument. "But y ou
hav e my permis s ion to try with Luke. I know Mos es won' t object. Then Luke could read new
Ps alms to us on Sunday s ."
Clary began teaching Luke that s ame ev ening after his chores were done. She s ens ed in him the
impatience s he would ex pect of any teenager who was s et to a tas k he believ ed a y ounger boy
s hould do, but s he repeatedly reminded him of his des ire to be a doctor and, buoy ed by that
dream, Luke pers is ted.
The golden September day s ran into each other, and s av e for the lonelines s caus ed by Jack' s
abs ence. Clary was content. He came home a day early , on a Sunday afternoon.
W ith Mos es , Sarah, and Luke occupy ing thems elv es in quiet Sabbath purs uits in their cottage,
Clary felt at loos e ends . The day was warm and s unny , drawing her to the little beach and the
riv er, where a faint haz e drifted abov e the water as a forewarning of the cooler autumn day s s oon
to come. Clary was wearing her work s hirt and ov eralls , which s he remov ed as s oon as s he
s tepped onto the beach. Underneath s he wore her old bra and bikini briefs . W hile try ing to adapt
to the undergarments that belonged with her nineteenth-century dres s es , Clary s till clung

to her twentieth-century underwear when s he was in her working clothes . Each night s he was hed
her bra and briefs and hung them to dry ov er the towel bar of the was hs tand in her room. Both
garments were beginning to look a bit bedraggled, but they would s erv e as a makes hift bathing
s uit. Not that any one would s ee her. Luke came to the riv er to fis h as often as he could, but Sarah
would not allow him to do s o on a Sunday . There were farms on the other s ide of the riv er, but
they were far enough away for Clary to be confident that s he would be all but inv is ible to
obs erv ers on the farther s hore.
She walked acros s the beach carefully , av oiding the gumball s eeds that had dropped from the
trees edging the beach. The little brown balls were cov ered with s harp projections and were
painful to tread upon.
W hen s he s tepped into the water, s oft mud ooz ed up between Clary ' s toes and a s mall s ilv erfis h
darted away from her. The riv er was s hallow, s o s he was well into the water before it was deep
enough for her to s wim. Once s he was pas t the mud along the s hore s he found the riv er perfectly
clear and clean. She s wam for a long time, and s he was refres hed by the firs t faint hint of autumn
chill in the water.
She was finis hed with her s wim and ready to leav e the water when s he s aw Jack mov e out of the
trees onto the beach. He had dis carded his coat and crav at and was clad as s he had firs t s een
him, in an open-necked white s hirt, a wide leather belt, light tan breeches , and high black
boots . Howev er, his hair now barely reached his earlobes . Pres umably , he had v is ited a barber
while in Philadelphia or W ilmington.
Treading water, Clary wav ed to him, then s tarted toward the s hore. She knew that he s aw her,
though he did not return her greeting. W hen s he was clos e enough to s hore to s tand up and walk
out of the water s he was als o near enough to s ee the look of as tonis hment on his face--and the
way his ey es took in ev ery detail of her ex pos ed body .
"My God, Clary , what are y ou doing?" he demanded. "W hy are y ou naked?"
"I hav e been s wimming. I' m not naked. This is a bikini." Amus ed by the mingling of horror and
des ire s he dis cerned on his face, s he turned s lowly around s o he could s ee her, front and back.
"Actually , I am more cov ered up than s ome women I hav e s een at the s eas hore."
"It is wors e than wearing nothing!" he declared.
" W hy , Mr. Martin, I am s urpris ed to know that a man of y our undoubtedly worldly ex perience can
be s hocked by a mere bathing s uit." She came out of the water to s tand before him, looking up
into his us ually unfathomable gray ey es . Today s he could eas ily read thos e ey es . They were
dark with des ire.
Clary ex perienced a moment of thrilling triumph. W hoev er he had been with and whatev er he had
done during his abs ence from Afon Farm did not matter. Jack wanted her now. And s he was
frighteningly glad to s ee him again. She forgot that s he was angry with him, forgot her

res entment at his refus al to take her with him on his trav els . All Clary wanted in that breathles s
moment, when they s tood les s than a foot apart, looking into each other' s ey es and s ouls , was
Jack' s arms around her. W hen his hand s troked along her cheek and into her hair, Clary s topped
breathing, waiting for what s he knew he would do nex t.
W ith a muffled oath he caught her to him, his arms hard around her, the s harp edges of his belt
buckle s tabbing at her s ens itiv e s kin. Clary did not care if his embrace hurt. His mouth was warm
on hers , her fingers were winding through his newly s horn hair, and s he was almos t as clos e to
him as s he wanted to be.
Almos t. But he was going to remedy that s hortcoming as s oon as pos s ible. He releas ed her jus t
long enough to unfas ten his breeches and pus h them downward. Then they were ly ing on the
s and and Jack was pulling at her flims y garments .
"Be careful," Clary gas ped, s till try ing to hold onto her wits . "If y ou tear them, I can' t get another
s et. Then I really will hav e to s wim naked."
"Only if y ou let me s wim with y ou." His hands were on her bare breas ts , cares s ing until s he cried
out at the hard tightnes s he created.
She managed to pull off his s hirt s o s he could s troke her hands acros s his broad ches t, but it
s eemed there would be no time to undres s him further. They were both too eager to join together
to was te a moment more than was abs olutely neces s ary .
"I would be jealous of the fis h that s wim between y our beautiful legs ," he murmured, his
fingertips like the fluttering fins of thos e s ame fis h upon her thighs . Quickly his fingers mov ed
higher into an ex quis itely s ens itiv e place.
"Oh, Jack," s he cried, "I want y ou ins ide me."
"Do y ou, Clary ?" He knelt between her thighs . She s aw the dark intens ity of his face and knew
how hard he was try ing to control his own need until s he was fully arous ed and ready for him.
"Yes , I' m ready now." She lifted hers elf to meet his forward thrus t and moaned in pleas ure when
he s urged into her.
"I hav e mis s ed y ou." He held hims elf s till, his face s lick with pers piration, his mouth hard with
the effort to res train hims elf for a few moments more. "You feel s o wonderful. I dreamed about
y ou ev ery night. Don' t mov e like that. Clary , I can' t wait!"
"I don' t want y ou to wait." She pulled his face down to hers and kis s ed him hard, and s he kept on
mov ing becaus e s he knew he liked it in s pite of his protes t. Then he was mov ing, too, mov ing in
hard, almos t v iolent s trokes that told her far more clearly than words could ev er rev eal jus t how
much he had mis s ed her and how des perately he des ired her. She met his pas s ion with her own,
met and melted together with him into one s earing, joy ful whole. And in his s hout of pas s ion
fulfilled s he heard the echo of her own s ofter cry .
W hen it was ov er s he clung to him s till, not wanting the moment to end, not wanting to

s eparate from him. She lay upon the s andy beach, only now becoming aware that there were at
leas t two s piny gumballs pres s ing into her back. And only now unders tanding how much s he
lov ed him. Jack Martin filled her heart in the s ame pas s ionate, tumultuous way he filled her body .
And s he was terrified, for s he remained uns ure of his ex act feelings toward her. She had to learn
whether he lov ed her-- or whether s he was but a temporary interv al in a life in which s omeone
els e mattered more to him than s he did.
W ith the late-afternoon breez e ruffling the water and making Clary s hiv er, they lingered only a
s hort time on the beach. Once back at the hous e, Clary rins ed riv er water out of her hair and s and
off her back and legs , and Jack piled a tray with food and took it to his bedroom.
"Join me," he inv ited when Clary appeared in the connecting doorway wearing only her ruffled
cotton nightgown. "I note that y ou are properly clad for the occas ion, my dear."
"As are y ou, s ir," Clary returned, indicating his blue dres s ing gown and bare feet. The tray of food
s at in the middle of his bed. Clary perched at one corner of the mattres s , her back agains t the
carv ed bedpos t. She reached for a s lice of ham, but he s lapped play fully at her fingers .
"I s hall feed y ou, madam, and when y ou are full I s hall make lov e to y ou again, albeit more
s lowly this time."
"Is that a promis e?" Clary opened her mouth
for the piece of ham he placed between her lips .
"You may depend upon it." Jack s ank his teeth into the other end of the ham s lice s o that their
lips were touching.
Startled, Clary drew back. "W hat are y ou try ing to do?" s he demanded.
"You s till hav e much to learn," he murmured, unabas hed by her reaction. "In many way s y ou
remain remarkably innocent, my s weet."
"Perhaps that is becaus e y ou keep me ignorant," s he replied, recogniz ing the opening for which
s he had been waiting.
"It will be my great pleas ure to enlighten y ou, Clary ."
" W ill it?" She regarded him through narrowed ey es . "All right then, enlighten me, Jack. Tell me
what y ou hav e been doing while y ou hav e been away ."
"That is not precis ely the enlightenment I had in mind," he murmured, s miling a little.
" W hat was the weather like in Philadelphia?" s he as ked. "W hat did people talk about at the board
of directors meeting? W hat s ort of celebration do they plan for the grand opening nex t month?"
"I had hoped for a s omewhat more intimate conv ers ation." He was peeling an apple, his long
fingers quick and graceful with fruit and knife. Clary thought about thos e fingers s troking along
her thighs or her breas ts . She clos ed her ey es , telling hers elf to keep her mind on the important
s ubject. She could not afford to let this opportunity s lip away . W hen s he opened her

ey es again Jack was looking at her in a ques tioning way .
" W hy won' t y ou tell me any thing about y our life bey ond Afon Farm?" s he cried.
"I hav e not as ked y ou for ev ery detail of y our prev ious life, Clary . Grant me the s ame priv acy ."
"If y ou really cared about me, y ou would open up a bit."
"I hav e told y ou a great deal about my s elf."
"You hav en' t really told me any thing at all."
"Clary , why can' t y ou unders tand that there are s ome s tories that are not mine to tell?"
" W hat the hell does that mean?"
"Do y ou know," he s aid s miling, "that I hav e not heard y ou s wear for a long time? I hav e almos t
mis s ed the s ound of y our s weet v oice curs ing." Then, with complete s erious nes s , he s aid,
"Leav e this s ubject alone, Clary . There are things I can nev er tell y ou." "Then how can y ou
ex pect me to trus t y ou? I want to trus t y ou, Jack, but y ou make it almos t impos s ible."
" W hen hav e I ev er prov en untrus tworthy to y ou?" he demanded. "Or to any one els e y ou know in
this time? Clary , my dear, I do care deeply about y ou. Surely y ou know that by now. There are
promis es I hav e giv en that I cannot and will not fors wear. If my refus al to break my word does not
prov e to y ou that I am an hones t man, then there is little hope for us ." He reached for her, and
unable to s top what s he wanted s o much, Clary went to him willingly .
"Tell me y ou believ e me," he whis pered agains t her lips . "Tell me that y ou do trus t me. Say y ou
care for me as truly as I care for y ou." "I do, Jack." She felt completely at home in his arms , s afe
and s ecure there. Nev er before had s he known this kind of hot, drugging des ire for any man. How
could a man who was not completely trus tworthy make her feel this way ? Lov ing Jack as s he did,
how could s he not trus t him? As his lips came down on hers in a heated rus h s he knew that ev en
if ev ery word he s poke to her was a lie, s he did not want to learn about it. All s he wanted was to
lov e him and to hope that one day he would lov e her in return.

Chapter Fourteen
" W e hav e done remarkably well this y ear." Jack s at at the dining room table, his account book
open before him and coins in four neat piles of v ary ing s iz es arranged on the table' s glos s y
s urface.
"The harv es t is n' t ov er y et," s aid Mos es .
"Nev ertheles s "--Jack looked from Mos es to Sarah to Luke and finally to Clary --"with the coming
fes tiv ities when the canal is officially opened I thought y ou might be glad of an early pay ment, in
cas e there is s omething y ou want to purchas e in preparation. I will div ide profits again at the end
of the y ear and giv e y ou a s econd pay ment then."
"I would like a new bonnet to wear for the grand opening," Sarah s aid. "Mos es tells me a woman
in Bohemia Village was s elling hats and s hawls the las t time he was there. And Mos es ought to
hav e a new dres s s hirt for the occas ion.
I really s hould go into the v illage with him the nex t time he takes produce to s ell."
" W ell, then, here y ou are." Jack pus hed a pile of coins toward Mos es , another toward Sarah' s
hands . A third pile he gav e to Luke. He picked up the fourth pile, which was cons iderably s maller
than the others . "Clary , y ou hav e not been at Afon Farm for v ery long, but certainly y ou hav e
earned this much."
Clary was s o s urpris ed that s he took the money without protes t when he gav e it to her. She
s tay ed where s he was as the others left the dining room, waiting until s he and Jack were alone
before s he s poke.
"I can' t accept this ." She held out the coins to him. Ris ing from his chair he put both his hands
ov er hers , prev enting her from returning the money .
"You hav e earned ev ery penny ," he s aid.
"Doing what?" s he cried and felt hers elf beginning to redden under his warm and tender gaz e.
"Ev ery one on this farm knows how helpful y ou hav e been," he s aid. "It is only fair to pay y ou.
W hy do y ou object, Clary ? I pay Sarah for her work, and s he does not take it amis s ."
"Sarah does n' t s leep with y ou," s he whis pered.
"I want y ou to hav e s ome money of y our own. I hav e paid y ou only for hous ehold chores and for
fieldwork. As for the res t, that is between us , and what y ou giv e me in priv ate is s omething far
bey ond my ability to repay . Nor would I want to pay y ou, for an ex change of money would only
cheapen the deares t, s weetes t hours of my life."

His hands tightened on hers . "I think y ou do not fully appreciate what y ou mean to me. You hav e
crept s o quickly into my heart and banis hed a terrible lonelines s . Clary , I pray y ou will nev er
hav e to return to y our own world, for I do not know how I could ex is t without y ou."
She gaz ed up at him through ey es blurred by s udden tears . This was the clos es t he had y et
come to declaring that he lov ed her. Her lips parted in a s ilent inv itation to a kis s , but he s hook
his head.
"I will not kis s y ou now," he s aid, "nor embrace y ou either, les t y ou mis unders tand in the
s lightes t degree. The coins y ou hold y ou earned by hones t work. The s weetnes s we s hare
together each night is s omething s eparate from our daily routines .
"Separate," he repeated, s peaking almos t to hims elf, "and y et that s weetnes s permeates ev ery
moment of my day s . Clary , I wis h I could tell y ou--" He s topped, s haking his head again. "I cannot
s ay more."
She knew his reticence had s omething to do with his my s terious pas t and the promis es he had
made to people s he might nev er meet. But s he did not doubt the s incerity of his declaration to
her, and s he gav e in return her own declaration. Taking her cue from him, s he did not mention
lov e in s o many words .
"I don' t want to return to the twentieth century , Jack. There would be nothing for me in that time.
Ev ery thing I care about is here." Her v oice was choked with emotion.
"Thank y ou, my dear."
She believ ed that he was ex erting a great deal of willpower in his effort to contain s trong pas s ion.
For once s he was grateful for his res traint. If he had taken her into his bedroom to make lov e to
her then and there, s he might s till hav e wondered ex actly how much of the money he had giv en
her really was for her work and how much for what they did together in bed. Silently s he s colded
hers elf for her inability to completely trus t and believ e in the man. W ere it not for her own
unhappy pas t, the las t hour would hav e buried all her doubts about him.
W hen he releas ed her hands and returned to his books , Clary left the dining room to s tore her
wages at the bottom of the blanket ches t in her bedroom. She could think of nothing s he wanted to
purchas e with the money , not ev en clothing for the grand canal opening. Jack had brought her a
new s traw bonnet from Philadelphia to replace the one s o badly battered during her encounter
with Hez ekiah Bartram. The new hat had a wide brim in front, and it was lav is hly trimmed with
flowers and embroidered ribbons . Gray leather glov es and a s mall purs e on a chain completed
his gifts to her. Clary planned to wear all of them and her new blue dres s , without its fichu, to the
canal opening. If the weather were cool, s he would add to her ens emble the patterned s hawl that
was Jack' s firs t pres ent to her.
Recalling the day s jus t before her marriage to Rich, when her clos et and bureau drawers had

bulged with clothing, s he could only s hake her head in amaz ement. Thanks to Sarah' s help at the
was htub, the well-worn gray cotton gown was cleaned of the black powder and res tored to
wearable condition. It was Clary ' s s erv iceable dres s for ev ery day . She donned her ov eralls and
work s hirt for really dirty jobs . She wore the green-and-white formal gown on mos t ev enings ,
which left the new blue dres s for s pecial day time occas ions . This was her entire wardrobe, and
for the moment at leas t, s he felt no need to add to it.
" W ell, perhaps s ome twentieth-century underwear," s he muttered, s moothing the ribbons of her
new bonnet. "Half-a-doz en pairs of white cotton briefs would be lov ely . But if I want them, I' ll hav e
to make them my s elf, and they ' ll hav e draws trings at the wais t, becaus e there is no elas tic y et."
Thinking that elas tic was a minor lux ury to giv e up in return for the contentment of her pres ent life
and the joy s he found with Jack each night, Clary laid the bonnet back in its box , along with her
lingering doubts about the man s he lov ed. Then s he went to help Sarah prepare the ev ening
meal.
October s ev enteenth, the day appointed for the official opening of the Ches apeake and Delaware
Canal, dawned bright and clear, and both carts from Afon Farm s et off early for Summit Bridge. In
the back of the cart driv en by Mos es , Luke guarded the picnic meal prepared by Sarah. A
s econd bas ket of food res ted in the cart Jack was driv ing.
" W hy aren' t we going by boat?" Clary as ked as they jolted their way along an incredibly bad trail.
" W ouldn' t it be eas ier?"
"No doubt," Jack ans wered. "But the canal will be s o crowded with boats that we would not be
able to get clos e enough to s ee or hear well, and the actual ceremony is to take place at the
bridge. Clary , I plan to introduce s ome of the important men and their wiv es to y ou. I als o hope I
hav e conv inced--well, let us wait to s ee if all my wis hes for this day are fulfilled."
As they drew nearer to the bridge, they were joined on the way by other farm carts , by a few
carriages , and by folks on hors eback or trav eling by foot. All wore their bes t clothes . Peddlars
carry ing their s ouv enir wares or food for s ale made their s low way toward the s ite of the
fes tiv ities . More economically s ubs tantial v endors drov e colorfully painted carts packed with
commemorativ e merchandis e, which they intended to s ell to the holiday throngs . Nearly all of
thes e s ales men s ported decorations of bright red, white, and blue bunting, and flags were freely
dis play ed on backpacks , on carts , and on carriages .
" W here did all thes e people come from?" Clary wondered, gaz ing around at the colorful s cene. "I
thought y ou s aid the country s ide around Afon Farm was only s pars ely populated."
"So it is ," Jack replied. "Thes e folk hav e come from all ov er the penins ula, s ome of them
trav eling for two or three day s . This is a great ev ent,

my dear. There is the bridge jus t ahead."
"Good Lord!" Clary s tood up to s ee better. Bracing one hand on Jack' s s houlder, s he s tared at the
s ight before her. They were not approaching from the State Road, which led directly acros s the
bridge and continued northward on the other s ide of the canal. Ins tead, Jack was driv ing them
eas tward along one of the trails us ed for trans portation of s upplies during the cons truction of both
bridge and canal, s o Clary firs t s aw the entire v is ta at an angle. There before her was a wooden
cov ered bridge that s panned empty s pace in a s ingle arch almos t 250 feet long. Below the bridge
gaped the famous Deep Cut, where workers had carv ed out s olid granite to a depth of nearly 90
feet. "To think all of that was done by hand. No bulldoz ers , no backhoes , no jackhammers --jus t
picks and s hov els and buckets !" Clary ex claimed.
"And a bit of black powder for ex plos iv e. Clary , pleas e s it down before y ou fall out of the cart,"
Jack warned.
"I can' t s ee when I s it. There are too many people between me and the bridge." But s he s at
any way , conv inced to follow Jack' s order by the continued rough motion of the cart. Eagerly s he
turned to her companion. "I hav e to tell y ou, Jack, that what I s ee here is an incredible
accomplis hment. Did y ou build this ?" She wav ed a hand that included both the bridge and the
Deep Cut beneath it.
"Some of the workmen I hired did," Jack res ponded with a laugh. "And I contracted to
s upply a good portion of the materials ."
"Any one who had any thing at all to do with it s hould be v ery proud," s he told him.
" W hy , thank y ou, Mis s Cummings ." Hav ing found a place to leav e the carts , Jack pulled to a s top
with Mos es bes ide him in the other cart. Jack helped Clary alight.
"Look at all the boats !" Luke s houted, rus hing forward to s ee the v es s els crowded into the water
below. "I s ee three big s teamboats !"
"You s tay away from the edge," his mother warned, "and don' t get los t. W e' d nev er find y ou in
this crowd."
Sarah was not ex aggerating by much. There were hundreds of people pres ent, and the crowd was
growing larger as the pas s engers from the s teamboats dis embarked and s lowly made their way
upward to the s pot nex t to the bridge where a platform had been erected. Gay red, white, and blue
bunting was hung on both the platform and the entrance to the bridge. A band was as s embling
nearby to prov ide mus ic for the ev ent.
After s eeing Sarah, Mos es , and Luke to a good v antage point, Jack took Clary ' s arm and led her
forward toward the s peaker' s platform, but their progres s was s oon blocked by the crowd. Jack
began politely but ins is tently pus hing his way through the throng until he and Clary s tood nex t to
the platform.
"Mr. Martin!" cried a jov ial v oice from abov e them, and a hand came down to s hake Jack' s .
" W elcome, s ir! W elcome, ma' am! Step up here

onto the platform and greet the committee before the s peeches begin!"
In the nex t ten minutes s o many men were introduced to Clary that s he quickly los t track of who
each one was , though a few did s tand out in her memory later.
"Mr. James Fis her, who is the pres ident of the canal company ," Jack s aid, s haking the man' s '
hand as he pres ented Clary . Jack turned to the I pers on s tanding nex t to Mr. Fis her. "This is Mr.
Robert Lewis , chairman of the committee of works for the canal. And this is Nicholas Biddle." This
las t man' s name Clary did recogniz e. She tried not to gape at the famous banker, whos e family
had play ed an important and continuing role in the his tory of Philadelphia right down to her own
time.
All of the men on the platform, in dark frock coats and trous ers and neatly tied crav ats --the
s ucces s ful bus ines s man' s outfit of their day -were genial. Their ov erdres s ed ladies were cool
toward Clary . She noticed a few of the women gaz ing at Jack with s hining ey es , then s ending
s peculativ e glances in her direction as if they were curious about her relations hip with him. Jack
cut a romantic figure in his dark gray coat and trous ers , deep blue s ilk brocade v es t, and
s potles s white s hirt. He mov ed among thes e important men with eas e, y et it s eemed to Clary that
he held hims elf a bit s eparate from them. There was about Jack a quiet res erv e that contras ted
with the open, hearty , s ometimes bois terous American men.
After a few quick looks at the women in their brightly colored, flounced, tucked, pleated taffetas
and figured s ilks , their bonnets and s hawls , paras ols and jewelry , Clary knew s he was greatly
underdres s ed for the occas ion. In the ey es of this group of well-to-do ladies , only her fine leather
glov es and her ov erdecorated Philadelphia bonnet s av ed her from fas hion dis as ter. She noticed
more than one pair of puz z led feminine ey es mov ing from contemplation of her plain blue cotton
gown to that hat, and s he could not help wondering what thos e v ery proper ladies were thinking
about Mis s Claris s a Jane Cummings .
"Ah, good day to y e, Mis s Cummings ." Sam MacKenz ie appeared out of the s urrounding crowd.
"Glad I found y e, Jack, me lad." The two men s hook hands , then s ev eral of the directors als o
cordially greeted Sam.
" W here is Madam Ros e?" Clary as ked Sam, ignoring a look from Jack that plainly warned her not
to mention Sam' s romantic interes t while they were with the officials of the canal.
Sam, howev er, did not appear to mind the ques tion. His blue ey es alight with mis chief, he gav e
her an hones t ans wer. "Ros e is much too bus y to attend this affair. There are celebrations taking
place all along the canal, and a long line of boats tied up at Bohemia Village waiting to enter the
locks . Ros e' s es tablis hment will be heav ily patroniz ed today , s o s he will doubtles s s pend a
happy hour or two later, counting all the money s he will make." Sam' s s igh s ugges ted to Clary
that he

was not as pleas ed at the pros pect as Ros e might be.
"Look there," Sam s aid. "It appears the program is about to begin. Jack, me lad, can we find the
lady a s eat?"
As Jack as s is ted Clary to a chair in the front row and took his place bes ide her with Sam on her
other s ide, there came from the direction of Fort Delaware, out on Delaware Bay , the s ound of
dis tant guns firing a long s alute.
"Three rounds of twenty -four guns each," Sam whis pered to Clary , adding with a chuckle, "They
decided twenty -one guns wouldn' t be enough for this grand achiev ement of American
engineering."
"It is a great achiev ement," Clary res ponded "I am ov erwhelmed when I think about all the work
that was done by hand."
Apparently the dignitaries as s embled at Summit Bridge were of the s ame opinion as Clary , for
their s peeches were long and flowery . Mr. Lewis began by officially announcing to Mr. Fis her the
fortuitous completion of work on this mos t remarkable canal. Thereafter, trans portation to
Philadelphia was ex pected to be greatly ex panded, thus v as tly increas ing profits for all who us ed
the canal and for the s hareholders .
This claim, as Clary knew from Jack' s remarks on the s ubject, was not quite accurate. In addition
to a large lands lide within the Deep Cut jus t a few day s before the opening--which was barely
cleared in time for the opening ceremonies --there remained a fair amount of work s till
to be done on the canal, mos tly in s horing up the s ides , which had an unfortunate tendency to
collaps e and fall into the water, thus blocking all traffic.
W hile Mr. Lewis held forth on the his tory of the canal and the difficulties of its cons truction, Clary
let her ey es and her thoughts wander. W here s he, Jack, and Sam were s itting, mos t of the people
were ex pens iv ely dres s ed, and one lady in particular. That lady was clothed in a pale gray taffeta
gown of s imple but elegant des ign that put to s hame all the bediz ened women s itting bes ide their
hus bands on the platform. Tall and s lender, s he had blonde hair s howing beneath the brim of her
tas tefully decorated bonnet and a delicate, beautiful face.
She was looking right at Jack. Clary realiz ed that Jack was looking back at the woman, who
fav ored him with a brief, tiny s mile. Clary thought the woman mus t hav e been aware of her own
s teady gaz e, for s he remov ed her ey es from Jack' s face to look at Clary . The woman glanced
away at once, trans ferring her attention to the s peaker.
"So s he did come after all," Jack murmured. "I am glad to s ee it."
" W ho is s he?" Clary whis pered.
" W ho?"
"You know who. The lady in the pale gray outfit."
"A lady ," he replied.
"You hav en' t ans wered my ques tion," s he pers is ted.

patient, s weetheart."
But later, the s peeches were finally ov er, the bands had finis hed play ing marches , and the two
military units s ent from Philadelphia had finis hed their drill and marched s martly off. The official
party was s tarting to make its way to the s teams hip W illiam Penn, where a banquet was
s cheduled to be s erv ed along with more s peeches and a lecture on internal improv ements by Mr.
Nicholas Biddle. W hen thos e s eated in the front rows began to s tand up and mov e about,
s peaking cas ually to friends , Jack turned to Clary .
"I mus t as k y ou to ex cus e me for a s hort time," he s aid. "There is s omeone to whom I mus t
s peak."
"The lady in gray ?" Clary as ked. Jack' s nex t words s urpris ed her.
"I would like y ou to meet her, but s he is ex ces s iv ely s hy . Let me s peak to her firs t, to as k her
permis s ion to pres ent y ou."
"Pres ent me to her?" Clary cried. "W hat is s he, a duches s ?"
"Not quite." Jack' s mouth twitched with humor. "Pleas e wait here with Sam." He mov ed off
through the crowd.
"I' m going, too," Clary declared to Sam. "If I' m right there bes ide Jack, s he can' t refus e to meet
me."
"No." Sam put a gently res training hand on her arm. "W ait here as Jack told y ou to do."
" W hy s hould I?" Clary demanded.
to meet y ou properly ," Sam s aid, "then it would make a better impres s ion upon her if y ou were to
wait."
"Do y ou know who s he is ?" Clary cried. "Is s he the woman he s ees in W ilmington? Is s he his -- "
Clary broke off. She could not bring hers elf to s ay the word mis tres s , and s omething in her heart
told her that if the woman were his mis tres s , Jack would nev er introduce her to Clary . He had too
much clas s to try a s habby trick like that.
"I don' t know the lady ," Sam s aid, "but it would be ill-bred of y ou to rus h up to them while they are
talking and demand an introduction. Leav e this to Jack." But Sam was frowning, too, as he and
Clary watched the couple.
Jack' s head was bent toward the s lender woman. He appeared to be pleading with her. The
woman s ent a has ty look in Clary ' s direction, then turned her back, s till s peaking to Jack while
s he s hook her head. Jack caught her arm, talking to her with an air of intens ity that conv ey ed
its elf to Clary all too clearly .
"It s eems the lady does n' t want to meet me."
Clary turned her own back toward the pair s o neither Jack nor the woman would be able to s ee
how hurt s he was . "Sam, would y ou be good enough to es cort me to the carts ? Sarah has
prepared a cold meal. Since we are not important enough to be inv ited to the grand banquet,
perhaps y ou would care to join us ?"

"I would be honored." Sam offered his arm and Clary took it.
"Am I behav ing like a proper lady now?" She could barely keep her v oice from s ounding like the
s narl of a painfully wounded animal.
"There may be a v ery good reas on for what we hav e jus t s een," Sam s aid.
" W ell, I wis h s omeone would tell me it," Clary cried. "Sam, don' t think I am angry with Jack. It' s
pretty obv ious that he tried to get her to agree to meet me. I gues s I jus t didn' t pas s her s ocial
tes t."
Mos es , Sarah, and Luke had taken their bas ket of food and found a place with three or four other
families with whom they were apparently on friendly terms . Clary s aw them talking and s haring
their food.
"Let' s find a s hady place," Sam s ugges ted, picking up the bas ket from Jack' s cart. There was a
blanket in the cart, too. Sam handed it to Clary , and then he pointed toward the ground
ov erlooking the Deep Cut. "Ov er there perhaps . W e can s it beneath thos e two big trees and watch
the boats pas s ing below us on the canal while we eat Sarah' s wonderful food and lis ten to the
band that has been engaged to play for the pleas ure of thos e of us not honored with s pecial
inv itations to dine aboard the W illiam Penn. I am glad to be here and not there. I can all too
eas ily imagine the ov erheated room, the heav y meal, and the long s peeches . If I were there, I
would mos t likely fall as leep and embarras s
my s elf. Your kind inv itation to eat with y ou has s av ed me from an irredeemable s ocial error."
Clary knew he was try ing to make her feel better. She went with him as cheerfully as s he could
and helped him to s pread out the blanket beneath the trees as he wanted. She was lay ing out the
cold fried chicken, bread and butter, and s liced tomatoes on a checked tablecloth s pread atop the
blanket when Jack rejoined them.
"Shall I leav e?" Sam as ked, s pringing to his feet.
"There is no need, my friend," Jack replied. "Thank y ou for s tay ing with Clary . I do not mind if y ou
hear what I hav e to s ay to her.
"Clary , I am s orry ." Jack turned to her. "I hoped s he would be pres ent today s o the two of y ou
could hav e the opportunity to meet in an informal way . But the lady is retiring by nature and her
emotions are in a delicate s tate. She wis hed to return to her cabin aboard one of the
s teams hips ."
" W hat y ou are really s av ing," Clary retorted, s tung by the unknown woman' s rejection, "is that
s he took a good look at me and decided s he didn' t like what s he s aw."
"I promis e y ou, it is not that," Jack s aid. "I am conv inced that, if only the two of y ou could meet,
y ou would s oon dis cov er how much y ou hav e in common."
"Apparently , s he didn' t think s o." Clary could not be annoy ed with Jack. She had s een him try ing
to bring together two s eparate parts of

his life--for s he was certain after watching them talk that the woman in gray was important to him.
It was not Jack' s fault if the woman refus ed to meet s omeone s he might cons ider a riv al for
Jack' s affections . "I s till don' t know who s he is ," Clary s aid.
"I am not at liberty to tell y ou her name," Jack replied.
"For God' s s ake, man!" Sam ex claimed. "Clary des erv es a better ex planation for the ins ult s he
has jus t receiv ed." He might hav e s aid more ex cept for the hard look Jack s ent him, which
s topped his words .
"If y ou are my friend, Sam MacKenz ie," Jack s aid in a cold and dis tant tone of v oice, "then y ou
will drop the s ubject of that lady at once."
"As y ou wis h," s aid Sam. "I make it a habit nev er to tread into areas where I am not welcome."
"Pleas e, Sam, eat a piece of chicken." Clary offered the napkin-wrapped platter to him. "Let' s jus t
try to forget ev ery thing but the lov ely day and this delicious food and the band play ing. That is a
familiar s ong I hear." She lifted her head, lis tening.
"It' s Anacreon In Heav en," Sam told her. "Tis a difficult tune. It' s well nigh impos s ible to s ing the
words and hit ev ery note on key ."
They got through the remainder of the afternoon under the pretens e of enjoy ing thems elv es . Sam
s poke with ex pectation about the profits to be made as s oon as the canal was fit for heav y traffic.
"I am s till looking for a good s hip," he told Jack "I will let y ou know as s oon as I find one."
After they finis hed eating, Clary s trolled acros s the Summit Bridge between Jack and Sam, s o
they could admire the v iew from the northern s ide of the Deep Cut. They ev en des cended to canal
lev el to walk along the towpath for a s hort dis tance. Along their way they were s topped frequently
by men who knew Jack and Sam and who wanted to introduce their ladies . Clary found thes e
women much more friendly than the wiv es of the important and wealthy officials , and in the guis e
of a lady v is iting from New Jers ey s he managed to carry on pleas ant conv ers ations with s ev eral
of them. But the s train of pretending to be s omeone s he was not was tiring. By the time Jack and
s he made their farewells to new acquaintances and to Sam and s tarted off on the road back to
Afon Farm, Clary wanted only to lie down and s leep. She did in fact doz e for a while with her head
on Jack' s s houlder and his arm around her.
" W ake up, s weetheart." Jack s teadied her on the s eat. Opening her ey es , Clary realiz ed that they
were in the barn. "Jus t s it there and keep me company while I take care of the hors e. Then I' ll s ee
y ou into the hous e."
Res is ting the des ire to crawl into the back of the cart and go to s leep again. Clary did as s he was
told until Jack s poke again.
"Come to me," he s aid s oftly , rais ing his arms . Clary let hers elf fall into them. The nex t thing

s he knew, s he was in her own bedroom and Jack was undres s ing her.
"You will s leep more s oundly here than with me in my room," Jack s aid, unfas tening the hooks at
the bodice of her gown as he s poke. "I can s ee y ou are ov ertired. Sleep late tomorrow if y ou
want."
He s lipped her nightgown ov er her head and tucked her beneath the cov ers as if s he were a
s leepy child who had been kept up too late. Clary did not protes t what he was doing, nor his
decis ion to let her s leep alone. As s oon as he s nuffed the candle, went into his own room, and
clos ed the door, s he fell into a deep s lumber.
Later, in the middle of the night, s he wakened to the s ound of Jack' s foots teps on the grav el by
the front v eranda and to the breez e-borne s cent of his pipe tobacco. In the few moments before
s he drifted back into obliv ion s he wondered why he s hould be pacing and s moking that night
when he had done neither s ince the firs t time they had made lov e.
Chapter Fifteen
It was difficult to wake up. For a long time Clary lay s till with her ey es clos ed, too lethargic to
mov e. All the while, s he tried to dis mis s a s ens e of growing uneas e in the v icinity of her
s tomach. W hen s he finally rolled ov er s he knew at once that mov ing had been a mis take. She
kept on rolling, right off the bed and onto the floor, where s he grabbed the chamber pot from
under the bed jus t in the nick of time. She was v iolently s ick.
Afterward, s he poured water into the bas in on the was hs tand and s plas hed her face with it. Her
reflection in the s mall mirror on the wall was drawn and pale, and her s tomach was s till s o
queas y that s he feared s he would be s ick again before long. She crept back into bed, huddling
there in a mis erable, curled-up ball until Sarah tapped lightly on her door.
"May be y ou were in the s un too long y es terday

Sarah s aid when s he learned of Clary ' s illnes s .
"That jolting cart didn' t do much for my diges tion either." Clary did not s ay what s he really
thought--that unrefrigerated fried chicken might be the caus e of her illnes s . "You s tay in bed,"
Sarah ordered. "I' ll bring y ou a cup of tea."
Clary moaned, feeling ill again at the v ery thought of tea. But when Sarah brought the pot of
s teaming brew the tray als o held thin s lices of dry toas t and two s mall apples . "I put s ome
quieting herbs in the tea," Sarah told her. "Sip it s lowly and nibble on the toas t and the apple, too.
It' ll s ettle y our s tomach." "Seas icknes s food." Clary pus hed hers elf up agains t the pillow to
accept the cup of tea from Sarah. "I remember Doctor--well, s omeone I us ed to know alway s
adv is ed jus t this diet for s eas icknes s ." "I wouldn' t know about that," Sarah replied, "but toas t
and apples alway s help Luke when he' s feelin' unwell."
Clary drank half a cup of the tea and s wallowed a mouthful of toas t, then went back to s leep. She
wakened to Jack' s hand s moothing her hair and his lips on her brow. "Too much ex citement
y es terday ," s he murmured.
"That' s what Sarah s aid. She does n' t think it' s s erious ."
"A good thing, too," Clary s aid, s till feeling groggy , though her s tomach was calmer. "I' ll bet
there aren' t any doctors around here."
By noontime s he felt well enough to be up and dres s ed, and by ev ening s he was rav enous ly
hungry .
" W hich only prov es ," Jack teas ed, watching her dev our a s lice of ham and a large s poonful of
corn pudding, "that y ou ought to remain here on the farm for the s ake of y our own well-being."
"You really are a male chauv inis t," s he told him. "The s trange thing is , it does n' t matter as much
as it would hav e when I firs t came here. Perhaps I am becoming emotionally acclimated to this
time. Do y ou s uppos e my change in attitude means that I am going to s tay here permanently ?"
"Let us hope s o." His hand touched hers .
" W hat will happen now?" s he as ked, half to hers elf.
" W e will finis h the harv es t and prepare for winter." His s mile was warm and cares s ing. "W ould
y ou like a glas s of Madeira?"
"I think I' ll s tick to tea tonight, thank y ou."
Clary watched him pour a glas s of wine for hims elf. Outs ide the open windows , it was already
dark and in the tall gras s es the crickets s ang their end-of-s ummer s ong. Clary had the odd
s ens ation that a phas e of her life was ending with the s ummer. Perhaps it had ended the
prev ious day with the opening of the canal-- or more accurately with the refus al of the woman in
gray to meet her. There were s o many ques tions s he wanted to as k Jack about that

moment, about the woman' s identity , and about his prev ious life, y et s he knew s he would as k
none of them. He accepted her as s he was , with a pas t too dis tant to matter in his day . It could
well be that for him, his own pas t was equally dis tant. Clary dis cov ered that s he wanted only to
think about the pres ent. It s eemed to be all that mattered.
"The only time we hav e," s he murmured, "is now."
"Very true." Jack finis hed his wine, the cry s tal glas s s parkling in the candlelight when he lifted it.
His face was pens iv e, his ey es s hadowed. W hen he ros e to hold Clary ' s chair for her, s he put a
hand on his arm, then reached upward to kis s him on the mouth. He drew in his breath, and s he
s aw the ready flare of des ire in his ey es .
"I do not want to impos e my s elf on y ou if y ou are feeling unwell." His v oice was s o hus ky that
s he knew he wanted her badly .
"You are nev er an impos ition. Don' t y ou know that by now? I do believ e that my health would be
greatly improv ed by the treatment only y ou can prov ide."
He did not res pond to her gentle teas ing in his us ual lighthearted way . His nex t words were
s erious , and s he could tell they were heartfelt.
"You cannot know what y ou mean to me." His hands cupped her face. "Clary , I will s ay only this
and then not s peak of the incident again. I am truly s orry for the s nub y ou s uffered y es terday . I
was angered by it and hurt for y our
s ake. I beg y ou to unders tand that the lady was motiv ated not by malice, but by fear."
"Fear?" Clary pulled back a little s o s he could s ee him better. "W ho could be afraid of me? Jack, I
promis ed my s elf I wouldn' t as k any more ques tions about y our pas t, but is n' t there any thing y ou
can tell me about that woman?"
"I am s worn to s ilence."
"I am beginning to unders tand what y our word of honor means to y ou. I won' t pres s y ou for
ans wers y ou cannot giv e. I do unders tand that what happened y es terday was not y our fault. By
the way , that incident is n' t why I was s ick this morning. I was n' t pouting or s ulking. I think the
fried chicken dis agreed with me." She s miled at him, hoping to lighten his s omber mood. "Tell
me, s ir, were y ou planning to take me to bed in the nex t couple of hours ?"
"Madam, I was planning to take y ou to bed within the nex t few minutes ." Solemnity gone, he
laughed at her. "And to keep y ou occupied for s ev eral hours at leas t!"
"I hav e jus t dis cov ered from Jack," Clary s aid to Sarah, "that his birthday falls on Halloween. It' s
one of my fav orite holiday s ."
"On what?" Perplex ed, Sarah looked up from the pie crus t s he was rolling out on the kitchen
table.
"You don' t know about Halloween? How funny . It nev er occurred to me that y ou wouldn' t, but
perhaps it is s till a purely religious holiday . I' m s ure Halloween is n' t promoted here the way

it is in my old hometown. W ell," Clary s aid, "one week from today we are going to hav e a s ur- I
pris e birthday party for Jack. W ould y ou mind making a cake? I' m not too s ure y et about my
ability to bake s omething delicate in that brick ov en and hav e it come out fit to eat."
"A pound cake," Sarah decided, "with plenty of butter and a doz en eggs in it and jus t a touch of
grated lemon rind. That is , if there are lemons av ailable in Bohemia Village."
"Ye gods !" Clary began to laugh. "Poor Jack' s arteries will be totally clogged after eating that. Oh,
nev er mind, Sarah, it s ounds delicious . I am , going to Bohemia Village with Mos es tomorrow, s o
I' ll look for lemons for y ou." She was als o planning to s earch for a pres ent for Jack. It was nice to
hav e money s he had earned for hers elf that s he could s pend on him. She could think of nothing
Jack might want, but s he was s ure s he would find jus t the right thing among the market s talls and
the new s hops s pringing up in the once quiet v illage.
She was not dis appointed. On the north s hore of Back Creek s he found a flat-bottomed canal boat
tied up jus t before the lock entrance. The owner had s et out on the deck a row of dus ty odds and
ends that reminded Clary of the merchandis e to be found at a twentieth-century tag s ale. Among
the items dis play ed was a s lender v olume of poems by Lord By ron in only s lightly us ed
condition. Clary knew Jack liked poetry , I for he kept s ev eral books of v ers e in his bedroom. She
bought Lord By ron' s poems for a
penny and came away from the trans action with the feeling that the s eller thought he had the
better part of the bargain.
Returning along the footbridge to the s outh s ide of the canal, Clary purchas ed the lemons Sarah
wanted for Jack' s birthday cake and then s earched out a few other prov is ions needed for the
kitchen at Afon Farm. Thes e were mos tly s pices that Sarah would us e to enliv en winter and
holiday fare. Clary bought two long v anilla beans , a whole nutmeg, s ome s ticks of cinnamon, and
a fabric bag packed full of whole peppercorns .
She took her time, enjoy ing the s ights , the s mells and s ounds , and the liv ely atmos phere.
Children play ed games between the carts and around the wooden bins of produce. A dog chas ed
a fat tabby cat acros s Bohemia Av enue and up a tree. Clary was s o intrigued by the bus tle and
color s urrounding her that s he did not ev en mind the occas ional brief outburs t of unpleas antnes s .
She quickly s ides tepped a canal worker and a v endor whos e dis pute ov er price had es calated
into blows . Seeing the s oberly clothed figure of Jos iah Grey approaching, s he felt certain that the
res pons ible Quaker gentleman would admonis h the combatants to treat each other with res pect
and hones ty ins tead of res orting to phy s ical force. She s pared a brief thought for the deranged
Hez ekiah Bartram, wondering if Jos iah Grey ' s reas onable kindnes s had s ucceeded in taming the
unpleas ant man before continuing on her way .

She found Mos es in his us ual place in the s prawling market, jus t wes t of the foot of Bohemia
Av enue. He was finis hing the s ale of the current load of autumn produce.
"I would like to s peak to Dancy before we leav e," Mos es told her, taking the filled bas ket from her
arm and tucking it into the back of the cart.
"Good," Clary s aid. "That will giv e me time to pay a call on Madam Ros e."
Dis regarding Mos es ' s grim ex pres s ion, Clary walked up the hill and around the corner to the
front door. She found the main room of Madam Ros e' s hous e almos t empty . Only three girls s at
at the tables and there was jus t one male cus tomer.
"Has bus ines s fallen off s ince mos t of the canal workers hav e mov ed on to other jobs ?" Clary
as ked after greeting Madam Ros e.
"There is als o the problem of the trav eling preachers who too often s ucceed in their attempts to
driv e would-be cus tomers away ," Madam Ros e replied. "Thos e s elf-righteous men s tand in the
s treet outs ide my hous e and preach agains t the wicked whores within. Las t week, one of them s o
affected Terps ichore that s he packed up all her belongings and left with him. One does wonder
what a preacher will do with a harlot on his arm."
"Perhaps he' ll put her on dis play as an ex ample of what his preaching can do. You are mis s ing
more than one girl," Clary noted, looking around the room.
"Cleo accepted a propos al of marriage from one of the canal workers and went wes t with him to
his nex t job in Ohio," Madam Ros e ex plained. "Zenobia decided to return to her home when s he
receiv ed a mes s age that her mother was s ick. Thus , I am left with only Hermione, Calliope, and
Sinope--a deficiency in numbers which s carcely matters s ince I hav e few cus tomers each day ."
"Madam Ros e, I mus t tell y ou that I hope y our bus ines s continues to deteriorate until y ou are
forced to mov e into a new line of work," Clary s aid.
"Mis s Cummings , y ou s ound ex actly like Sam MacKenz ie." Madam Ros e' s v oice was weary and
her face was s trained when s he glanced toward her girls .
"Is Sam in town today ?" Clary as ked.
"I believ e he is at the pump hous e," Madam Ros e murmured. "Some difficulty with pumping water
into the locks . It s eems as though this canal will nev er be in perfect working order."
A s hort time later Clary left, and as s he was waiting for Mos es to bring the cart around to
Bohemia Av enue, s he caught s ight of Sam MacKenz ie.
"Hello, Sam!" She wav ed to him. Two pas s ing ladies looked at her in dis gus t and s tuck their
nos es into the air, pulling their s kirts clos er to their bodies as if they feared contamination from
any one hav ing any thing to do with Madam Ros e' s hous e. Clary ignored them and wav ed to Sam
again.

"I' m s o glad to s ee y ou," s he s aid to him.
"Could y ou join us for dinner at Afon Farm on
the thirty -firs t of the month? You are welcome
to s tay the night if y ou like. I want to s urpris e
Jack for his birthday ."
"As it happens ," Sam s aid, "I was thinking of riding that way one day s oon. I jus t may hav e news
for Jack that will come as a fine pres ent for his s pecial day ."
"I would inv ite Madam Ros e, too," Clary began, but Sam s topped her.
"She would not leav e her hous e jus t now," he s aid. "Hav e y ou s een her? She' s not taking well to
the lates t changes in Bohemia Village. Las t night s he was talking about mov ing to wes tern
Penns y lv ania or Ohio, where there are s till canals being built. Good-by e, Clary . I' ll s ee y ou nex t
week." Sam helped her climb onto the cart s eat and then wav ed his farewell.
Clary held tightly to the s eat as s he and Mos es lurched and jolted along the road. She hoped the
ride would not make her s ick. Her s tomach was ups et much too often of late, and s he was aware
that the problem had nothing to do with tainted food. She had not had a mens trual period s ince
jus t before Jack' s return from his September trip to Philadelphia. She was glad enough not to
hav e to deal with the s anitary problems --s he hated hav ing to us e folded cloths for napkins and
hated ev en more hav ing to was h them out by hand afterward. But s he was frightened by the new
problems a pregnancy would entail. She was not s ure what Jack' s reaction

To further enliv en the party , Sam had brought with him s ev eral bottles of port wine and a fres h
s upply of Madeira. "we will open the Madeira tonight," Jack decided. "The port we will allow to
res t from its trav els for a few weeks ." "W hy ?" Clary as ked, looking with s ome curios ity at the
dus ty bottles .
"So the s ediment can s ettle," Sam told her.
"Sam, y ou mus t return later in the y ear," Jack s aid, "to s ample y our gift."
"I was hopin' for the inv itation, Jack, me lad." Sam winked at Clary . "I accept with pleas ure."
W hen the men began to open a bottle of new Madeira, Clary ex cus ed hers elf. In the kitchen s he
found Sarah, Mos es , and Luke awaiting her. "Are y ou ready ?" It was a needles s ques tion. They
were all well rehears ed in Clary ' s plans for the celebration. Sarah' s pound cake res ted on a
s ilv er tray , s urrounded by bright autumn leav es . After Clary had des cribed birthday cake candles
to Luke, he had dev is ed a s ingle long wick of braided s traw dipped in tallow. It burned with a
s moky flame and did not s mell es pecially nice, but it s tood boldly upright in the center of the
cake, lending it a fes tiv e look. "Sarah, y ou carry the cake in," Clary ins tructed. "You made it, after
all."
"I' ll take the fruit." Luke lifted a cry s tal bowl filled with the peaches Sarah and Clary had
pres erv ed in s pices and whis key . "I hav e our pres ent for Mis ter Jack." Mos es held a flat, round
object cov ered with a clean flour s ack.
"And I hav e the book I bought for him," Clary s aid.
They marched from the kitchen through the s till, cool autumn night, acros s the courty ard, and into
the hous e, where Jack s at at the dining room table, drinking Madeira with Sam. Jack looked up as
they came into the room, s urpris e changing to as tonis hment and then to pleas ure at the cake with
its makes hift little candle. "Happy birthday ." Sarah s et the cake down in front of him.
"Happy birthday , Mis ter Jack." Luke pres ented the bowl of peaches . "Thes e are delicious . I
tas ted them to be s ure." "Clary , was this y our idea?" The look Jack gav e her was one of pure
lov e.
"Ev ery one contributed s omething," s he replied, her heart rejoicing at his delight.
"You mus t all s tay and partake of this delicious s urpris e," Jack s aid.
"Are y ou s ure y ou want us here?" Mos es glanced toward Sam, then back to Jack' s face.
"You hav e helped to make the celebration for my benefit," Jack res ponded. "It will not be
complete unles s y ou participate now." "Thank y ou." Sarah gracious ly inclined her head. "W e
would be happy to join y ou."
"Clary ." Jack returned his attention to her. "W hat is the order for this ceremony ? Am I ex pected to
cut the cake?" "Before y ou do," Clary s aid, "y ou are s uppos ed

to make a wis h and blow out the candle. It' s a tradition."
"That' s the s tranges t candle I' v e ev er s een," Sam remarked. "If it burns for much longer, it may
well s et the hous e on fire." "Then I ought to blow it out at once. I wis h--" Jack paus ed, looking at
Clary , and behind the warmth of his ex pres s ion, s he detected a s erious nes s that made her blus h.
"Don' t tell us what the wis h is ," s he cried, "or it won' t come true."
"I unders tand," he s aid. "This tradition inv olv es magic. I am s urpris ed at y ou, Clary . I thought y ou
did not believ e in s uch s upers titions ." "Sometimes I do," s he murmured, her ey es gaz ing deep
into his .
W ith Jack' s s ilent wis h made and the candle s afely ex tinguis hed, the ex tra chairs along the wall
were pus hed up to the table, and the s ix of them s at down to enjoy the cake, fruit, tea, and for the
three men, a glas s of Madeira. "I' m old enough for wine," Luke declared.
"You hus h and drink y our tea," his mother told him.
"I' m s ticking to tea, too, Luke," Clary s aid.
"You hav e refus ed wine for more than a week now," Jack mus ed. "Hav e y ou taken a dis like to
Madeira?"
"Not at all. I will ex plain later," Clary replied.
Jack rais ed his brows in a ques tioning way , but did not pres s her. Clary ' s nerv ous nes s ov er what
s he would tell him later began to dis s olv e. Jack was s o relax ed, he looked s o contented, and he
treated her with s uch warmth that s he could not think he would be angry when he heard her news .
"Ma' am," Sam s aid as s oon as he had polis hed off the las t of his cake and peaches , "s ince y ou
are mis tres s of thes e fes tiv ities , tell us pleas e, may we now pres ent our gifts to the gues t of
honor?" "W henev er y ou like," Clary replied. "Mos es , will y ou go firs t?"
W hen Jack unwrapped the cloth bundle, the gift from Mos es and Sarah prov ed to be a fine new
s traw hat, flat crowned and wide brimmed to s helter his face from the s un. "Your old one is fine
for workin' in the fields ," Mos es ex plained, "but when y ou go into town, y ou ought to hav e a new
hat to wear." "I thank y ou both." Jack tried on the hat to a chorus of approv al.
Luke' s gift was hidden behind the s ideboard.
"I made it my s elf," he s aid, giv ing the fis hing rod to Jack.
"Thank y ou, Luke. I will s ee to it that we go fis hing together in the nex t few day s ," Jack s aid.
"Your turn nex t, Sam," Clary s aid, fully aware that, caught up in the s pirit of the occas ion, he was
burs ting with eagernes s . "My gift is n' t a package," Sam s aid to Jack. "It' s news . I hav e located
the s hip we hav e been talking and dreaming about owning. The Venture is big enough to hold
plenty of cargo, but not too large or too deep in draft to pas s through the canal."

"At las t!" Jack' s ey es gleamed with pleas ure. "W here is s he berthed, Sam?"
"In W ilmington. I thought we might leav e tomorrow and go together to s ee her before any one els e
can make an offer for her. The owner has agreed to wait until I contact him again."
"Yes , y ou are right. If s he is what we hav e been looking for, then we ought not to ris k los ing this
chance."
"Could I go with y ou?" Clary as ked.
"Not this time," Jack ans wered. "But if we do purchas e the s hip, and if y ou would like, I promis e
y ou may s ail on our firs t v oy age to Philadelphia."
"All right." Clary agreed at once, thinking of her uns ettling morning s icknes s . In a few weeks the
illnes s would be ov er and s he could trav el without feeling naus eated ev ery day .
"I almos t forgot." Sam jumped to his feet. "Jack, there is another package for y ou. Ex cus e me for
a moment. It' s in my s addlebag." He left the dining room, returning a minute later with a parcel
wrapped in rough cotton cloth and tied with twine.
"This was left at Ros e' s hous e by a mes s enger who was trav eling through the canal on his way
to Baltimore," Sam s aid. "Ros e promis ed to s end it on to y ou, and s he as ked me to deliv er it."
"Thank y ou." Jack took the parcel and began to open it. Clary , watching him, was briefly
dis tracted when Sarah and Mos es ros e from the
table and Sarah began to collect the dis hes . W hen Clary looked back at Jack again, he was lifting
out of the wrappings a fine white linen s hirt. As he did s o, a folded piece of paper s lipped from the
linen and drifted to the floor. Clary bent ov er to retriev e it. W hen s he picked up the paper s he
could not av oid noticing the s ignature: My lov e alway s , Philly .
Into Clary ' s mind came the memory of Jack' s delirious rav ings as he tos s ed on his bed in a fev er
after injuring his arm. Philly , he had cried. Philly . And s he had s tupidly imagined that he was
thinking of bus ines s in Philadelphia! She recalled his s urpris e when s he had us ed the nickname
Philly for the city .
Sam s aid s omething to Jack and Jack faced toward his friend while he ans wered.
Clary s till held the note in s haking fingers . After only an ins tant' s hes itation and before Jack
could s ee what s he was doing, s he opened out the folded paper and glanced down at it again.
She had time to decipher only s natches of the mes s age, which was written in an elaborate hand
with many s wirls and flouris hes . But what s he read was more than enough to des troy the happy
mood of the ev ening for Clary , along with her certainty of Jack' s true affection for her.
Dear Jack. . . How I hate that fals e name. If only ... 7 regret. . . could not meet her. . . . My deares t,
y ou will unders tand. .. dis cretion neces s ary . . . .
My lov e alway s , Philly .

W hen Jack turned his head to look at Clary after s peaking to Sam, s he gaz ed back at him as if he
were a s tranger to her.
"Is s omething wrong?" he as ked.
"You didn' t notice this ." She gav e him the letter. W ith his ey es on it, s he made her es cape into
the hall. Sarah came after her.
"Are y ou s ick again?" Sarah whis pered, giv ing her a knowing look. "Or did s omething ups et y ou
in there?"
"I am jus t a little tired. Shall I help y ou in the kitchen?"
"You s tay here and attend to y our problems ," Sarah ordered, keeping her v oice low. ' "Caus e I
think y ou hav e a s erious problem, Miz Clary . If y ou hav e any thing to tell that man, tell him now."
"You know," Clary whis pered.
" ' Cours e I know. You think I' m s tupid and can' t count jus t ' caus e I don' t know how to read?
You' v e got his baby in y our belly , and he des erv es to be told about it." Sarah faced her with
narrowed ey es . "You didn' t giv e him that book y ou bought for him. W hat changed y our mind?"
"A lov e letter from another woman." The lump in Clary ' s throat cut off further ex planation. She
s pun around and raced to her bedroom. Sarah followed her.
"Can I bring y ou any thing?" W hen Clary jus t s hook her head, Sarah went on. "Get a good night' s
s leep if that' s what y ou need, but y ou
take my adv ice, Miz Clary , and tell him right away . If y ou can' t do it tonight, then do it firs t thing
tomorrow."
"Firs t thing tomorrow," Clary his s ed at her, "he is going away . Didn' t y ou hear him talking with
Sam? He is going to W ilmington, and while he' s there, he will certainly s ee her. He will want to
thank her for his lov ely , handmade birthday pres ent!"
"You already know what I think about this . I' m not goin' to repeat my s elf."
After Sarah left her, Clary undres s ed, got into bed, and s nuffed the candle. Sam would be s haring
Jack' s room with him for the night, s o s he did not hav e to fear that Jack would appear, wanting to
make lov e to her. She was as s ured of an entire night in which to think.
W hat her thoughts rev ealed to her only ups et her more, for Clary believ ed s he could recogniz e a
recurring pattern to her relations hips with men. Her hus band Rich' s habit had alway s been to
ignore her until s he made a great fus s that precipitated a quarrel, at which point he doled out a
s mall ration of affection. Afterward, with Clary temporarily pacified, Rich could res ume ignoring
her while s he carried the emotional weight of their relations hip. She now unders tood all too well
his reas ons for this peculiar behav ior.
Unlike Rich, Jack did not ignore her, but he did keep the mos t important parts of his life hidden
from her. W hen s he ins is ted on information about his pas t or his life away from the

farm, Jack calmed her with a s entence or two calculated to giv e her jus t a crumb of know I edge.
Then he as ked her to trus t him--and he made lov e to her as if he really cared for her, thus ending
the dis s ens ion between them until the nex t incident occurred to make her ques tion his motiv es .
Becaus e Jack was the only one who knew s he was liv ing in the wrong time, s he was emotionally
dependent upon him, and therefore particularly v ulnerable to this treatment.
"The s ame pattern ov er and ov er again," Clary muttered, s itting up in bed in the dark with her
arms around her legs and her forehead down on her knees while s he tried to make s ens e of the
wrong turns her life had taken in two different centuries . "I hav e been too pas s iv e. I hav e let the
men I care about manipulate me into caus ing them the leas t pos s ible amount of trouble, and both
Rich and Jack hav e betray ed my naiv e trus t. W ell, no more. This s ituation is going to change. I
am going to change! I hav e a baby to think about now, and my child des erv es a res pons ible adult
for a mother. I finally know what I want and need, and by heav en, I am going to find a way to get
it." She lay down again, a grim s mile on her lips .
"Jack Martin, y ou are about to dis cov er what real trouble is ."
Chapter Six teen
"I am going to W ilmington," Clary announced the nex t morning, one hour after Jack and Sam
departed from the farm.
W ooden s poon in hand, Sarah turned from the cooks tov e to s tare at her. "And jus t what do y ou
plan to do there?"
"I intend to find out ex actly who this Philly pers on is and what s he means to Jack."
"You may not like what y ou learn."
"Sarah, I hav e to know. I can' t go on in complete ignorance of Jack' s real life."
"If y ou as k me, this farm is his real life. That .ad now may be the s hip he' s plannin' to buy with
Mr. MacKenz ie." Sarah gav e the s oup in the kettle a s tir. "I told y ou before, Mis ter Jack' s got no
free time to s pend with loos e-liv in' women."
" W e don' t know what he does when he' s away on thos e bus ines s trips of his ," Clary declared,
remembering another man who had us ed s uch

trips as a dis guis e for unfaithfulnes s . "I am not going to s it here obediently until Jack comes
back, hoping that jus t pos s ibly he will then deign to rev eal to me a few more facts about hims elf. I
hav e to know more before I can tell him that I' m carry ing his baby . Sarah, can' t y ou unders tand
how I feel?"
"No," Sarah admitted, "I can' t imagine what it' s like not to trus t y our man. I' v e alway s been able
to trus t Mos es . Ev en when we were s till s lav es , when we had nothin' els e, I had that much.
"You can' t go alone," Sarah s aid after a moment' s thought. "W hat' ll happen to y ou if y ou get s ick
along the way ? You better take Luke with y ou."
"Thank y ou. I knew y ou' d help me."
"Mos es is n' t goin' to like this , but I' ll talk to him and he' ll giv e in after a bit of an argument At
leas t mos t of the harv es t is finis hed, s o he can make do without Luke' s help for a few day s . You
got enough money for this trip?"
"I think s o. I hav en' t s pent more than a few pennies of the wages Jack paid me. I can' t think of a
better caus e to s pend that money on."
" W ell, then." Sarah laid down the s poon. "You go get ready , and I' ll talk to Mos es and Luke."
Clary nev er learned what Sarah s aid to Mos es . Though he did not look pleas ed, he made no
objection to her about her planned trip or about Luke going with her. They rode into Bohemia
Village with Mos es that morning, Clary on the cart s eat bes ide him, an ex cited Luke perched
on a box of produce that was s cheduled for loading on a s chooner bound eas tward through the
canal. W ithin half an hour of their arriv al in the v illage, Mos es had s ecured pas s age on the s ame
s hip for Clary and Luke.
"You won' t hav e to s earch for s pace on a s econd boat after y ou reach Newbold' s Landing,"
Mos es s aid. "You can s tay aboard this one all the way to W ilmington. I' v e s old produce to
Captain Peter Schy ler for the las t two s ummers , s o I know he' s an hones t man. Now, Luke, y ou
s tay right with Miz Clary . Don' t leav e her s ide, and take good care of her."
It was s till well before noon when their s hip left the s econd lock at Bohemia Village and, pulled by
a pair of mules , mov ed into the canal. Their progres s was s low but s teady , and ev en with time for
filling the lock at St. George' s and then the fourth and final lock at Newbold' s Landing, they were
through the canal and into the man-made harbor that opened into Delaware Bay well before the
early s etting of the s un on that firs t day of Nov ember.
" W e will anchor here in the harbor and cas t off on the incoming tide near dawn," Captain Schy ler
told his pas s engers . "W ith the tide and the wind helping us , we s hould drop anchor in
W ilmington s hortly after noon tomorrow."
W hile the other pas s engers went as hore to take their chances on an ev ening meal at a local
tav ern, Clary and Luke opened the hamper Sarah had packed for them and feas ted on cold s lices
of ham, bread and butter, pickles , and apple tarts ,

all was hed down with mugs of hot coffee they purchas ed from the s chooner' s cook.
Mos es had booked a s mall cabin for Clary . At Luke' s ins is tence, the boy s lept ly ing acros s the
deck jus t outs ide her door.
"My daddy told me to pretend to be y our pers onal s erv ant," Luke s aid, "and that' s what a s erv ant
would do, s o don' t y ou argue with me, Miz Clary ."
"I am s orry to s ay that I hav e to agree with y ou," Clary replied. "It' s probably the s afes t thing for
y ou as well as for me if y ou appear to be guarding me."
The pas s age up Delaware Bay to W ilmington the nex t morning was a bit rough, with a s trong
incoming tide and a s tiff wind from the s outheas t. Clary was s urpris ed not to s uffer from either
morning s icknes s or s eas icknes s . But her s tomach was s till far from calm, for s he dreaded what
s he might dis cov er when the brief v oy age ended.
W ith the s chooner tied up at the wharf in W ilmington, Clary and Luke began to s earch for the s hip
that Sam MacKenz ie wanted to buy .
"I thought y ou didn' t want Mis ter Jack to know y ou were in town." Luke knew only that Clary had
ex tremely priv ate and pers onal bus ines s to conduct in W ilmington. Clary felt certain that once
Luke and Jack were both at Afon Farm again the boy would mention this ex curs ion, but by then it
s hould not matter. One way or the other, the is s ue of Clary ' s relations hip with Jack would s oon be
s ettled.
"I can only tell y ou this , Luke," s he s aid. "I need to find out where Jack will go after he is finis hed
with the bus ines s hav ing to do with the s hip." She did not add that s he was s ure Jack would take
this opportunity to v is it the my s terious lady who had appeared at the Summit Bridge for the
grand-opening celebrations .
A s hort while later. Clary s topped to as k a s ailor for directions , and he s aid, "The Venture?" The
man pointed. "Down that way , ma' am."
"Thank y ou. Come on, Luke."
"Are y ou goin' to jus t walk right up to Mis ter Jack and s ay good morning to him?" Luke as ked.
"I am not going to s ay any thing at all to Mis ter Jack," Clary res ponded. She put out a hand to s top
the boy . "Careful, Luke. There he is , and Sam, too. Quick, come this way ." She pulled Luke
behind a pile of crates waiting to be loaded onto a nearby barge.
Jack and Sam came walking along the dock in company with a third man. W ith her finger agains t
her lips cautioning Luke to s ilence, Clary lis tened to their conv ers ation.
"I can hav e the papers drawn up at once," the third man s aid to the other two. "Then, as s oon as
y ou deliv er the money to me, y ou are free to take pos s es s ion."
" W e' ll want a lawy er to make it legal on our s ide, too." That was Sam s peaking. "I know jus t the
man. I' ll s ee to it, Jack. W e can hav e the s ale completed by noon tomorrow and begin refitting the
s hip the nex t day ."

"Ex cellent. I leav e the choice of lawy er to y ou" Jack s hook hands with his friend and with the
other man. "In the meantime, if y ou will ex cus e me, I mus t pay a call on a friend. Sam, I will meet
y ou at our rooms later this ev ening." The three men s eparated.
"Come on." Clary pulled at Luke' s s leev e.
" W here are we goin' ?"
" W e are going to follow Mr. Jack Martin," s he told him. "It s houldn' t be too difficult W ilmington is
not a v ery large city ."
Jack was walking fas t. Before long Clary dev eloped a s ev ere cramp in her s ide and was forced to
s top and catch her breath.
"Go on, Luke," s he ordered. "Don' t los e him I' ll catch up with y ou as s oon as I can."
"No, ma' am. I can' t do that. My daddy s aid not to leav e y our s ide. This is n' t the nices t part of
town for a lady to be alone in." Luke looked around at the docks behind them, the s hips berthed
there, the s ailors mov ing purpos efully along on errands of their own. More than a few
rough-looking characters were in s ight and s ome of them were ey eing Clary with interes t. "I' d
nev er leav e y ou here ev en if my daddy hadn' t told me to s tay with y ou. W e could s top at that
tav ern ov er there and as k for a cool drink for y ou, and y ou could s it down till y ou feel better."
"If we do, Jack will get away . Oh, hurry , Luke, he' s jus t gone around that nex t corner! W e' ll los e
him for s ure." W hen Luke s till hes itated to leav e her, Clary knew s he would hav e to dis regard the
pain in her s ide. Picking up her long s kirts , s he
began to run. At once, Luke was running, too. They pas s ed s ev eral men who turned to s tare, but
with Luke right bes ide Clary , no one tried to s top her.
"There he goes ." W hen they reached the corner around which Jack had v anis hed, Luke paus ed,
pointing. "Miz Clary , y ou look s ick. You can' t keep runnin' like this . You got to s top and res t."
"I will res t when I find out where Jack is going. Hurry up, Luke!"
"Stop tellin' me to hurry ." Luke s ounded remarkably like his mother. "I' m goin' as fas t as I can,
and y ou' re goin' fas ter than y ou s hould."
Now well out of the dock area, Jack s lowed his pace and s o did the two following him. W hen Jack
paus ed, Clary and Luke dodged between buildings or hid in doorway s . This peculiar behav ior
occas ionally elicited frowns or ques tions from alert citiz ens as to what the two were doing. Clary
res ponded to thes e queries by pretending that s he had been momentarily confus ed, but s uddenly
remembered her way . W ilmington prov ed to be larger than s he had realiz ed. It was a s urpris ingly
long walk to a s quare of red brick hous es with a s mall park in the center.
"This part of town looks almos t like London." Clary noted neatly pruned bus hes and a few trees ,
the latter dropping the las t of their leav es onto the paths that cris cros s ed the gras s of the quiet
little park. "Perhaps that' s why he chos e it."
"Chos e it for what?" Luke as ked.

"That is what we are here to dis cov er," Clary told him.
As they watched, Jack walked quickly acros s the s quare. Doing their bes t to s tay out of his s ight,
Clary and Luke s tay ed as clos e behind Jack as they dared. They were hiding behind a thick holly
bus h when Jack mounted the s parkling white s teps of one of the brick hous es and lifted the
gleaming bras s knocker on the front door. The door opened at once and a tall, thin, man
appeared.
"Good afternoon, Gilbert." Jack' s v oice carried clearly to uns een watchers in the park.
"Good afternoon, my lord. Lady Philippa will be pleas antly s urpris ed to s ee y ou." The door
clos ed, cutting off the res t of the elderly man' s welcoming words .
"Miz Clary ," Luke whis pered, "y ou better s it down. You look like y ou' re goin' to faint. There' s a
bench." He led her to the s eat and Clary gratefully s ank upon it.
"My lord?" s he whis pered. "Lady Philippa? W hat the hell is going on?"
"I don' t know," Luke ans wered, "but if y ou' re us in' words like that, it mus t be s omethin' bad. You
jus t res t here for a while, and then we' ll go back to the docks and find a boat to take us home to
Bohemia Village. If my daddy is n' t in the v illage when we get there, we' ll talk to Dancy and he' ll
get Madam Ros e to help us reach the farm."
"I am not going back to Afon Farm until I hav e s ome ans wers ," Clary s aid. "I wanted to
learn the truth about Jack' s s ecret life, and I am going to s tay right here until I do. Sooner or later
Jack will hav e to leav e that hous e to meet Sam."
They waited for an hour or s o. A few people pas s ed them--a nurs emaid with two s mall children, a
well-dres s ed woman followed by a maid carry ing packages , two men deep in conv ers ation--and
all s pared only a quick glance for the y oung woman in her dark blue dres s and fas hionable
bonnet, accompanied by a black s erv ant who s tood jus t behind the bench, guarding his mis tres s .
Jus t as Clary began to wonder if perhaps Jack was planning to remain ins ide the hous e all night
in s pite of his promis e to meet Sam, an open coach drew up in front of the hous e where he was . A
moment later the elderly Gilbert, whom Clary had decided mus t be the butler, opened the door,
holding it wide while a woman s tepped out of the hous e. She was the s ame s lender blonde
woman who had s poken to Jack at the opening ceremonies at Summit Bridge. She was dres s ed
in pale blue s ilk cut in the s ame kind of s imple, elegant s ty le that had made her s o notable on
that earlier day . Her dainty bonnet was decorated with blue flowers to match her gown. Behind
her, chatting with eas e and good humor, was Jack. And between them, holding on to the hands of
both grownups , was a boy about s ix y ears old.
"Oh, God, no!" Clary ' s hands flew to her mouth as s he attempted to s mother her own anguis hed
cry . "He has a s on!"

There could be no mis take. The boy ' s hands ome face, though s till y outhfully plump, bore the
imprint of Jack' s own fine bones . Moreov er, his hair was the s ame s hade of burnis hed mahogany
as Jack' s hair. Unable to take her ey es away from the s cene, Clary watched Jack hand the blonde
woman into the carriage. Then he lifted the boy up to join his mother. Clary heard the adults laugh
together when the boy s crambled to s it bes ide Jack. The carriage drov e off.
Clary remained s itting on the wooden park bench, too numbed by s hock to mov e, unable to weep
or s cream or do any thing els e to allev iate the incredible pain tearing her bos om. She knew what
the pain was . Her heart was breaking in two, and when it was completely broken, s he would die.
She was s ure of it. No one could endure s uch pain and liv e.
"Miz Clary ." She heard Luke' s v oice s peaking as if from a dis tance. "You got any of thos e
s mellin' s alts in y our purs e? ' Caus e I think y ou need ' em now."
"No s alts ," s he s aid, gas ping. "Madam Ros e has all the s alts . A real s alty character, Madam
Ros e. I s hould hav e lis tened to her adv ice about Jack Martin." She gav e a half-hy s terical laugh,
and to her horror, s he began to cry uncontrollably . The tears ran down her face unchecked.
"You goin' to be s ick?" Luke as ked, concerned. "You s ure look awful pale."
"Sick?" Clary could not s top cry ing. "I am more likely to die than be s ick."
Jack had s worn to her that he was not married. But he had obv ious ly lied to her about hav ing
another woman, s o he could hav e lied about his marital s tatus , too.
"Oh, God!" s he wept. "Two kids by two different mothers . It' s jus t like a family in the twentieth
century !
"Honor. Truth. Trus t," s he went on bitterly , s till cry ing as s he s poke. "Jus t s ee what trus ting a
man has gotten me. Sarah was right. I don' t want to know this particular truth, and now that I do, I
can nev er put it out of my mind. Damn him! Damn Jack Martin!"
"You s top this !" After a quick look around to be s ure there was no one in the park to s ee what he
was doing, Luke grabbed Clary by the s houlders and s hook her hard. "Stop this cry in' ! I' m s orry
to be rough with y ou, but that' s what Mama would do if s he were here. Now y ou take a deep
breath and s hut y our mouth and think for a while! You can' t s it here cry in' y our ey es out till
Mis ter Jack and that woman come back. You know y ou wouldn' t want them to s ee y ou this way .
You got more pride than that."
"Hav e I? Or has pride gone where honor and truth and trus tworthines s hav e gone?" But s he did
as Luke ordered, taking s ev eral deep breaths .
"You feelin' better now?" Luke was regarding her clos ely .
"I am calmer, if that is what y ou mean." Clary took another long breath. "I can' t s tay here."
"That' s jus t what I' v e been s ay in' . It' s time to go home, Miz Clary ."

"I don' t think I hav e a home any more." Clary put a hand to her forehead. "You' ll nev er unders tand
this , Luke, but as a famous man once s aid, it' s deja v u all ov er again. The s ame thing keeps
happening to me no matter where--or when-- I am."
"Let' s go back to the docks ." Luke took her arm, helping her to ris e from the park bench and then
turning her toward the s treet from which they had entered the s quare. "Captain Schy ler s aid he' s
s ailin' back to Baltimore as s oon as he reloads the s hip. May be we can take pas s age home with
him."
Clary was in s uch a mis erable emotional s tate that s he let Luke guide her through the s treets of
W ilmington with no protes t. After her rus h not to los e s ight of Jack and the trauma of dis cov ering
that he had a s on, s he was inex pres s ibly weary .
" W as it s uch a long walk when we came this way before?" s he as ked at one point, v aguely
wondering if they were los t. They might wander around for day s , until they dropped from hunger
or thirs t, and s he would not care. Or would s he? The thought of the child s he was carry ing kept
her walking and made her believ e Luke' s as s urances .
"It' s not far now," Luke s aid. In fact, it was a long time later when they s tumbled onto the docks
s ome dis tance away from Captain Schy ler' s s hip. Clary was conv inced that they had been los t,
but it didn' t matter. They could board the s chooner and
s ail away from W ilmington, away from Jack and his blonde woman, whether s he was his wife or
his mis tres s . Clary wanted only to put as much dis tance as pos s ible between hers elf and Jack.
Thus , as s he and Luke walked along the docks , s he was horrified to recogniz e, pulled up near the
Venture, the carriage in which Jack, the blonde woman, and the child had been riding. The
carriage was empty , but at the s ight of it an unreas oning anger erupted in Clary ' s breas t.
"How the hell did he get that thing down on the docks without s omeone s topping him?" s he
demanded in a loud v oice. "The bas tard ought to be fined for blocking traffic!"
"Good ev ening, Mis s Cummings ." Captain Schy ler ans wered her. He was on his way to his own
s hip and had ov erheard Clary ' s outraged ex clamations . A hearty chuckle acknowledged her
unlady like choice of words , but his res pons e to her ques tion was polite. "No doubt s ome wealthy
man is s howing off his lates t acquis ition to his lady who, unlike y ours elf, is too dainty to tread
upon thes e docks for more than a few paces . I unders tand the Venture was s old this afternoon.
She' s a fine s hip, one any man would be proud to own."
"Captain Schy ler, can y ou take us on as pas s engers for the return trip to Bohemia Village?" Clary
as ked.
"I' m not leav ing until dawn," he s aid. "You would hav e to s tay on deck for the entire trip. All the
cabins will be in us e. I am s urpris ed to

hear that y ou want to return home s o s oon. Mos t people, hav ing made the v oy age, remain in
W ilmington for a few day s at leas t, or ev en s ail up the riv er to Philadelphia or Trenton."
"I was able to complete my bus ines s in W ilmington in jus t one day ." Clary tried to s ound as if
s he were pleas ed by this accomplis hment. "Now I am s o eager to return home that I am willing to
s leep aboard s hip, ev en on the deck." She did not add that s he als o wanted to be off the open
dock before Jack s potted either her or Luke. She was keeping her back turned toward the Venture
and was pleas ed to note that Luke was doing the s ame. She hoped Jack and his gues ts were
deep in the bowels of the Venture ins pecting the s hip and would not s tep abov e deck until s he
and Luke were s afely out of s ight on Captain Schy ler' s Baltimore-bound s chooner.
"It promis es to be rough weather," the captain warned, looking s ky ward, "but if y ou are
determined, then come aboard. Deck s pace is half price, pay able in adv ance."
Captain Schy ler was a kind man. He found a protected s pot on deck for Clary and ev en ordered
one of his men to bring blankets for her and Luke.
"I won' t charge y ou ex tra for them," he s aid.
"Thank y ou." Clary ' s v oice was low. "I don' t hav e much money left."
"Are y ou in s ome kind of trouble?" Captain Schy ler gav e each of them a hard look.
W hen Clary dis cov ered s he could not s peak becaus e of fres h tears , s he merely s hook her head,
and Luke ans wered for her.
"Miz Clary ' s ups et right now. She got s ome bad news today ."
"Indeed?" Still that hard, s earching look. "W hen did y ou two las t eat?"
"This mornin' before we left the s hip." Again Luke s poke for Clary . "W e brought our own food
aboard."
"Oh, y es , the s traw hamper I was to drop off at Bohemia Village on my return trip. W ell, y ou can
take it as hore y ours elv es when we get there. I s uppos e there is nothing left in it?" The captain
walked away , leav ing Clary and Luke alone.
"My mama gav e me a little ex tra money to bring with me," Luke s aid. "I could go as hore and get
s ome food."
" W hat would y ou do if Jack s hould s ee y ou and demand to know why y ou are in W ilmington?"
Clary cried. "I can' t face him right now, Luke. At this moment I' m not s ure if I can ev er face Jack
Martin again."
"Then I' ll jus t wait till we reach Newbold' s Landing to eat." Luke s at down on the deck nex t to
Clary . "You better wrap up in that blanket. It' s goin' to be a cold night with the wind blowin' the
way it is ."
"I' m s orry , Luke. You mus t be hungry ."
"May be not for long." Suddenly , Luke was grinning. A s eaman s quatted bes ide them with two
plates in one hand and two mugs in the other.

" W ith the captain' s compliments ," the s eaman s aid, "but y ou are to return the crockery to the
galley when y ou' v e finis hed. Captain does n' t want it broken when the s hip s tarts to roll early
tomorrow morning."
Each plate contained a s erv ing of tas ty s tew and a large chunk of brown bread. The mugs held
coffee. There were no forks or s poons prov ided, but neither Clary nor Luke was in a mood to
complain. They ate the pieces of meat and v egetables with their fingers and mopped up the grav y
with the bread.
"Glad to s ee y ou' re eatin' ," Luke s aid.
"I hav e good caus e to eat." Clary ' s hand res ted on her abdomen for a moment. "I want to s tay as
healthy as pos s ible."
"That' s a good s ign. You know," Luke went on, "I don' t think that lady we s aw is Mis ter Jack' s
wife. If s he were, s he' d be liv in' on the farm with him, wouldn' t s he? But I' v e nev er s een her
before."
"Then y ou mis s ed her at the big canal celebration," Clary told him. "She was there, and s he
refus ed to meet me."
"That was n' t v ery nice." Luke paus ed, thinking. "You mean, Mis ter Jack wanted her to meet y ou?
W hy would he do that if he' s --y ou know, if he' s s eem' her ins tead of y ou? But the thing is , if
s he' s not married to Mis ter Jack and y ou want to marry him, then y ou could, couldn' t y ou?"
" W hy would I want to marry a man who lies to me all the time?" Clary as ked bitterly .
"I don' t know," Luke ans wered. "But I think that' s what y ou want to do. Otherwis e, why ' d y ou
follow him all the way to W ilmington?"
Clary fell s ilent, thinking about what Luke had .s aid. In the s traightforward way of many y ouths ,
he had jus t hit upon a crucial point. W hy s hould Jack Martin, who was s leeping with Clary , want
her to meet the other woman in his life? Something about that s cenario was wrong. It was out of
character for Jack. He would want to keep his wife and his mis tres s --or his two mis tres s es if that
were the cas e--s eparated from each other.
Clary might not know ev ery thing s he wanted to know about Jack, but of one thing s he was certain.
He was a fas tidious man. His hous e was kept clean, his food elegantly s erv ed, his farm was
remarkably neat and well cared for, and his pers on was alway s s potles s . W hen he came home
dirty after a hard day ' s work, he alway s s crubbed hims elf clean before the ev ening meal. A man
s o s crupulous ly clean would not be likely to keep two women. The idea would offend him.
The only ex planation that Clary could think of for this puz z le was that perhaps the woman in
W ilmington was a former mis tres s and Jack was s till s eeing her becaus e of his s on. Perhaps the
woman s tilled cared for him. That would ex plain the affectionate tone of her letter to him, and the
reas on why s he would s end him a handmade birthday pres ent. But it did not ex plain why Jack
had not s imply told Clary about his former affair and as ked her not to talk about it to others .

Her thoughts in a whirl, phy s ically and emotionally worn out by the day ' s ev ents , Clary s carcely
noticed when Luke gathered up the plates and cups to take them back to the galley She huddled
into her blanket, and des pite the cold night and the hard deck beneath her, s he fell fas t as leep
She did not waken until near dawn when the s hip got under way .
Chapter Sev enteen
Clary and Luke reached Bohemia Village late on the following day . The s kies were gray , the wind
was blowing, and rain was falling s teadily ,,
" W e' re goin' to hav e to s tay in town tonight,"
Luke s aid while he and Clary s tood by the s hip' s rail awaiting the word to dis embark.
"Is there a place where y ou can go?" Captain Schy ler gav e them one of his piercing looks . "I
would allow y ou to remain on board until I s ail tomorrow morning, but it will be wet as well as
cold on deck tonight and all of my pas s engers are continuing on to Baltimore, s o there are no
s pare cabins av ailable."
"I hav e a friend," Clary s aid, "and Luke' s uncle liv es in town."
"I' m mighty glad to hear that. There goes the gangplank now. Good luck to y ou, Mis s Cummings ."

Clary was s orely tempted to as k Captain Schy ler if s he could remain on his s hip until he reached
Baltimore. It would be s o eas y jus t to s ail away from all her problems and nev er return to Afon
Farm.
You can' t do that any more, s he told hers elf s ternly . You hav e run away too often in the pas t, and
on the mos t recent occas ion, y ou ended up at the bottom of the canal. This time y ou will s tay and
fight for what y ou want, becaus e no matter what he has done or who the woman y ou s aw him with
is , Jack is the man y ou lov e.
Once as hore, Clary marched right up to the front door and into the main room of Madam Ros e' s
hous e, with Luke following her. Dancy was behind the bar, redheaded Hermione was s itting on
the lap of the only cus tomer in the place, and Calliope and Sinope, the other two girls who s till
worked there, were drinking together at another table.
"You back already ?" Dancy s aw them at once. "Mos es s aid y ou went all the way to W ilmington."
"Miz Clary finis hed her bus ines s there real quick." Luke glanced at the girls , who were s taring at
him and Clary . He looked away as if he were embarras s ed.
"You s houldn' t keep comin' here," Dancy s aid to Clary . "It don' t look right for a lady to be in a
place like this . Somebody might think y ou' re one of the girls .
"Calliope," Dancy went on, his dark ey es s earching Clary ' s face as he s poke, "find Madam
Ros e, will y ou? I got a feelin' Miz Clary wants to talk to her."
"Thank y ou, Dancy ." Clary s ank down into the neares t chair and put her head down on the table.
"Luke, if y ou' re hungry , go to the kitchen and as k Emmie for s omething to eat," Dancy s aid. "Take
that hamper with y ou. Didn' t y ou hav e any luggage?"
"No, s ir."
Clary lifted her head as Luke dis appeared into the pas s ageway that led to the kitchen.
"You want a drink?" Dancy as ked her, offering the whis key bottle and a glas s .
"I' d rather hav e coffee."
Dancy nodded and a moment later s et a large cup in front of her. Clary was s till s ipping it when
Madam Ros e appeared. Madam Ros e s aid nothing at firs t, but s at down nex t to Clary . Dancy
gav e her a cup of coffee, too, and then withdrew to his pos t behind the bar.
"I s eem to come to y ou whenev er I am in trouble," Clary began.
"Many y oung women hav e done s o in the pas t. You are carry ing Jack Martin' s child."
"How did y ou know that?"
"It is my bus ines s to know s uch things . I notice the dark circles beneath y our ey es , y our pale
face, the way in which y our figure has recently blos s omed. Yet I do not think y ou hav e come here
to make the reques t of me that s ome other women in y our pos ition do." Madam Ros e paus ed,
waiting for Clary ' s

res pons e, and Clary unders tood to what s he was referring.
"I want this child," Clary s aid. "I want its father, too. The problem is that he appears to hav e
prev ious obligations ." W ithin the nex t few minutes s he rev ealed all that s he and Luke had s een
and done while in W ilmington.
"As us ual, y ou hav e acted impetuous ly and without cons idering the cons equences ," Madam
Ros e commented, "although, under the circums tances , y our actions are unders tandable. W hat do
y ou now ex pect me to do to help y ou?"
"I would like to s tay here ov ernight," Clary s aid. "Luke, too. W e' ll go back to the farm tomorrow
when the rain has s topped."
"Jack Martin might object to the mother of his child s pending the night in a whorehous e," Madam
Ros e s aid bluntly .
"He' s not in a pos ition to complain about any thing I do," Clary res ponded. "I don' t hav e much
money left, but I' ll giv e y ou what I hav e." She opened her purs e, took out the few remaining
coins , and pus hed them acros s the table toward Madam Ros e.
"Like s o many otherwis e intelligent women, y ou hav e no idea what it cos ts to maintain a
bus ines s . This is not enough." Madam Ros e flicked the coins with her fingertips , s ending them
back acros s the table toward Clary , who s at s taring at the woman, uns ure what to do nex t She
had not ex pected to be refus ed a room.
"Do y ou know," s aid Madam Ros e as if to hers elf, "that y ou are the only res pectable woman
to s peak pleas antly to me s ince I was s ix teen y ears old? You are als o the only pers on to repay a
kindnes s I hav e done by giv ing me a gift in return." She paus ed, taking a deep breath as if
s teeling hers elf to perform a tas k that was clos e to unacceptable to her.
"Tonight and ev ery night recently , there are s ev eral empty rooms in this hous e. You might as
well s leep in one of them s ince y our pres ence can hav e no effect on my profits .
"Howev er, I think Luke ought to s pend the night with Dancy rather than ups tairs where the girls
are. His parents would hav e my head if he were corrupted while in my hous e."
"Thank y ou," Clary whis pered. She reached for the coins on the table. Madam Ros e s topped her.
"I will accept jus t one of thes e." Madam Ros e picked up a 25-cent piece. "To cov er the cos t of
clean s heets ."
For the firs t time in day s , Clary laughed with real humor.
"You are the mos t remarkable woman I hav e ev er known," Clary s aid. Madam Ros e actually
s miled back at her. Then they both s obered, lis tening to s ounds outs ide the hous e.
" W hat is that nois e?" Clary as ked.
"They are s inging hy mns ," s aid Madam Ros e. "There are certain religious folk in this area who
are determined to s hut down my hous e. They s ing and pray in front of it ev ery night, hoping thus
to dis courage pros pectiv e cus tomers from entering. Pay them no heed. They are perfectly

peaceful and will dis pers e s oon enough." Madam Ros e s tood. "It is late and y ou are plainly
weary . I will s how y ou to a room."
As the two women walked toward the s tairs the s inging outs ide s topped, the s lightly off-key mus ic
being replaced by loud s houts , as if s omeone were haranguing the protes ters , though ins ide the
hous e the words were muffled. Jus t as Madam Ros e s tarted up the s teps leading to the s econd
floor, a rock cras hed through one of the front windows and landed on the table where s he and
Clary had been s itting jus t moments earlier. The chairs and the table were s howered with broken
glas s .
"My God!" Clary gaped at the s udden mes s . "Thos e guy s mean bus ines s ."
A s econd rock s plintered the other front window, and this time the mis s ile hit one of the two girls
who were s itting together.
"Sinope!" Madam Ros e hurried to the girl, whos e forehead was bleeding. "Dancy , bring a towel!"
W hile Madam Ros e tended to her injured employ ee, the man with Hermione on his lap got to his
feet s o fas t that he dumped her onto the floor. He headed toward the front door.
" W here are y ou going, y ou coward?" Clary y elled at him. "You take y our pleas ure, but when
things get a little rough, y ou leav e."
"I s ure ain' t s tay in' here," he res ponded and rus hed out of the hous e. A loud cheer greeted his
ex it.
"Mis s Cummings , get away from the door!" Madam Ros e came after her. "Pleas e I don' t want y ou
to be hurt, too. Jack Martin would nev er forgiv e me."
"I was n' t going outs ide. I jus t wanted to make certain of s omething. I thought I recogniz ed the
loudes t v oice out there, and I was right." Clary went back into the main room, where Calliope,
Sinope, and Hermione huddled together while a grim-faced Dancy worked bus ily behind the bar,
his hands out of s ight. "Hez ekiah Bartram is back. He is probably the reas on why peaceful hy mn
s ingers hav e taken to throwing rocks ."
"He has es caped the gentle confinement of Jos iah Grey ?" Madam Ros e s hook her head. "That is
a pity . On the s ubject of my bus ines s , Mr. Bartram is quite mad. I do believ e y ou are right. He
would not be abov e taking s ome v iolent action or ins tigating v iolence on the part of others ."
"I' ll s top ' em all." Dancy rev ealed what he had been doing below bar lev el. He had been loading
a gun. He brandis hed a pis tol that Clary recogniz ed at once.
"A s hot into the air might well encourage them to dis pers e," Madam Ros e agreed. "But firs t,
before we res ort to firearms , let me remons trate with them."
"Are y ou as craz y as Hez ekiah Bartram?" Clary as ked. "That' s a mob out there. They won' t lis ten
to y ou."
"Nev ertheles s , I mus t try ." Madam Ros e s tarted for the front door.

"I can' t let y ou do this alone." Clary went with her.
"Mis s Cummings , this is not y our quarrel," Madam Ros e s aid.
"Yes , it is ," Clary declared. "Hez ekiah Bar-tram is a former cus tomer here. You told me once that
he fav ored Hermione but that s he was afraid of the phy s ical harm he threatened her with. As I s ee
it, this is jus t one more ex ample of a man us ing a woman and then turning agains t her or hurting
her or, at the v ery leas t, walking out and leav ing her to face the cons equences of what he has
done. It happened to Hermione, to y ou when y ou were a y oung girl, and at pres ent it is happening
to me for the s econd time in my life. W e face them together, Ros e."
"Clary ." Madam Ros e' s ey es were s uddenly s us picious ly bright. "My giv en name is As trid. But
don' t tell them." She inclined her head firs t toward the girls in the main room, then toward the
nois e of the crowd outs ide.
"Nev er. I promis e." Clary s miled at her.
W hen they opened the door and s tepped onto the v eranda, they were greeted by a roar. There
were only 15 or 20 rain-s oaked men and women s tanding in the s treet, but their mood was s o
ugly that Clary was grateful for Dancy ' s pres ence jus t behind her and for the knowledge that he
s till held the loaded pis tol concealed by his s ide. As us ual, Dancy would let Madam Ros e do the
talking, but he would be there to back her up if neces s ary .
"There s he is !" Hez ekiah Bartram s houted. In the light of the torches held by a few of the men his
face was aglow with a wild, fanatical ferv or. "That' s the wicked woman, and her lewd and
unprincipled friends are with her! Driv e them from our town! Into the wildernes s with them!"
It was then Clary noticed that Hez ekiah Bartram was holding an ax in one hand. He drew back his
arm and with a high-pitched s hout let the ax fly . It s truck Madam Ros e on her right s houlder, then
continued on to imbed its elf deep in the doorframe. Madam Ros e reeled from the v icious blow,
then recov ered to s tand s traight and s tiff, facing the crowd with blood running down her arm.
Clary ges tured as if to help her, but Madam Ros e s hook her head.
There was no time to argue the matter. The crowd pulled back for a moment, as if the s ight of the
two women, one of them bleeding, had giv en them paus e. Hez ekiah Bartram, perhaps
comprehending that the crus ading s pirit was wav ering, combined ex hortation with further action.
"Follow me!" he s houted, rus hing forward. "Des troy the whores and their hous e!"
Clary was watching Hez ekiah Bartram, s o s he did not s ee who threw the torch, but whoev er did it
had perfect aim. The torch flared through the night, s iz z ling in the rain. It fell through one of the
broken front windows and into the main room. Clary heard s omeone s creaming ins ide the hous e.
Dancy chos e that moment to s tep in front of Madam Ros e and fire the pis tol, but it

was already too late to s top what was happening. Frightened, but determined not to giv e way ,
Clary braced hers elf to withs tand the coming attack.
Jus t as the protes ters mov ed toward the v eranda in a s eething body bent on wreaking des truction
upon the two women, Dancy , and any thing els e that s tood in their way , a s tout figure in dark
clothing mounted the s teps to s tand bes ide Dancy .
"I came as quickly as I could," Jos iah Grey s aid.
"It was n' t fas t enough," Clary s napped at him. "W hy didn' t y ou keep that madman locked up?"
" W e will dis cus s the terms of his confinement later," Jos iah Grey told her. "For now let me do
what I can to put an end to this dis graceful s cene."
"You' d better do it fas t," Clary s aid, "becaus e there are s ix people ins ide this hous e. W e need to
get them out now, and not into the arms of a rav ing mob either."
"Good people, lis ten to me." Jos iah Grey s tepped forward, rais ing his arms . The towns folk
paus ed in their forward pus h, to hear what Jos iah Grey might hav e to s ay to them. "Do not allow
a poor madman to rob y ou of y our common s ens e. It is far better to change the activ ities that
occur in this hous e by gentle pers uas ion and by righteous ex ample than by ugly v iolence.
Hez ekiah Bartram has los t his wits , but y ou hav e not los t y ours . I as k y ou to dis pers e before
s erious harm is done to life and property --harm
that will torment y our cons ciences for the res t of y our liv es ."
"Don' t lis ten to him," Hez ekiah Bartram y elled. "You all know what goes on ins ide that hous e. I
s ay , burn it to the ground!"
"It' s already burning," Clary muttered. Jus t then, s he heard a y outhful v oice calling to her from
ins ide. "Oh, my God, Luke! W hy didn' t y ou go out the kitchen door? Luke! I' m coming!"
W ith no thought for her own s afety , Clary hurried into the hous e. Smoke s tung her ey es and a
roaring nois e accompanied the bright flames attacking the bar. A glas s bottle cracked from the
heat and a momentary whoos h of blue flame identified burning alcohol before the flames
cons umed the liquid. Ov er the nois e of the flames Clary heard Dancy ' s low-pitched v oice and
knew he had followed her. And then s he heard Luke again.
"Miz Clary , where are y ou?"
"Luke, I' m here. I' m all right." She reached him and touched his s houlder.
The nex t few minutes were a s moke-filled, chaotic nightmare. Sinope' s hair was on fire. Luke was
beating at the flames with a towel while he s houted to Clary to get out of the hous e. Emmie and
Lucy burs t from the kitchen hallway to run s creaming through the s moke and fire until Clary
caught them and pointed toward the door. Dancy was roaring for Luke to get outs ide. Madam
Ros e appeared to pus h Hermione and Calliope to s afety . Dancy picked up Sinope and carried her
out of the hous e, catching Luke' s hand and dragging

him along, too, onto the v eranda and then down to the s treet.
Clary raced around the main room, checking the hallway into the kitchen one las t time, s houting
up the s tairs , try ing to locate any one who might hav e rus hed ins ide to help and then become
dis located in the s moke. She was hav ing difficulty with her own s ens e of direction. Her ey es and
throat were burning, and there was an acrid tas te in her mouth. It was Captain Schy ler who finally
pulled her from the hous e when s he could not find the door.
"Mis s Cummings , what are y ou doing in a place like this ?" he demanded, pounding her on the
back to clear her lungs of s moke.
"I was try ing to help," s he s puttered, coughing hard. Then, looking at the hous e, s he s aid, "W e
need more water."
"It' s all right. I came as hore as s oon as I s aw the fire, and I brought with me a band of my
s eamen and s ome of my male pas s engers , too. They are helping the towns folk. If y ou are certain
y ou are uninjured, and if there is no one els e ins ide that building, I will rejoin my men." After
thanking Captain Schy ler, Clary s ent him off to help; then s he looked around at a s urpris ing
s cene.
Immediately after dis cov ering that the hous e was on fire, Jos iah Grey had formed a bucket
brigade to carry water from the canal to the hous e. Thanks to the well-res pected Quaker' s efforts ,
the s ame men and women who a s hort time before had been ready to do v iolence to Madam
Ros e, Dancy , the girls , and the property now worked to s av e the hous e. Other people, s eeing the
flames and hearing the commotion, arriv ed to as k if they could help. Two women in plain dark
Quaker dres s , who identified thems elv es as Jos iah Grey ' s wife and s is ter, were treating an
as s ortment of cuts and burned hands . Madam Ros e s tood quietly , letting Mis tres s Grey tear off
the s leev e of her ros e taffeta dres s s o her s houlder could be bandaged. Clary went to Madam
Ros e.
"How are y ou?" Clary as ked.
"Aliv e, but ruined," Madam Ros e s aid, her ey es on the flames .
"Perhaps this is a s ign from God," murmured Mis tres s Grey .
A heav y s et woman appeared on Bohemia Av enue, accompanied by three teenage children who
were pulling a s mall cart. From it the woman and her children began to dis pens e coffee to thos e
who had been fighting the fire. Someone els e arriv ed with blankets and cov ered the damp,
weeping girls from Madam Ros e' s hous e.
W hen dawn arriv ed, Clary s tood arm in arm with Madam Ros e in the s till-falling rain, watching
the s moke and s team ris e from the ruins of the hous e. The v eranda and the main room were
gone. The kitchen and a good portion of the s econd floor s till s tood, though many timbers were
blackened and charred. Jos iah Grey was there y et, directing the final firefighting efforts .
" W hile I am s orry for y our financial los s ," he s aid to Madam Ros e, "I cannot regret the

end of s o reprehens ible a bus ines s as y ours . W e can at leas t be grateful that no one was
s erious ly injured. I trus t y our s houlder will heal quickly ."
"This is all y our fault," Clary accus ed him. "You let Hez ekiah Bartram get loos e after y ou
promis ed to keep him under control."
"The towns folk hav e him well tied up now," Jos iah Grey s aid. "They will trans port him to Elkton,
where a phy s ician res ides who deals with s uch unfortunate cas es ."
"You s hould hav e taken him there weeks ago." Clary was not appeas ed.
"I am aware of my culpability in this affair, and I intend to make what amends I can. Madam Ros e,
it would be foolis h of y ou to attempt to es tablis h another hous e s uch as the one y ou hav e been
maintaining when public opinion is s o s trongly oppos ed. Is there no legitimate and res pectable
bus ines s that y ou would care to manage? You hav e but to as k and my res ources are at y our
dis pos al."
" W ho would patroniz e me?" Madam Ros e as ked in a lis tles s v oice.
"That piece of land is in a prime location." Jos iah Grey gav e the s moking ruin a s harp glance.
"Perhaps when y ou hav e had a few day s in which to recov er from this mos t unfortunate incident,
heav en will s end the proper res pons e into y our thoughts ."
"Perhaps ." Madam Ros e s ounded doubtful. After a minute or two, Jos iah Grey bowed to the
women and mov ed away .
"You are welcome to s tay at Afon Farm for a while," Clary offered. She did not care that the farm
was not hers to offer, nor did s he care what Jack' s res pons e might be. All s he wanted to do was
eas e the pain and los s her friend mus t be feeling.
"I could not leav e my girls and Dancy ," Madam Ros e replied. "They will need me to find lodging
for them and to s ee to it that they hav e food and new clothing. In any cas e, if I were to leav e town,
s omeone might place a claim upon the land and what remains of the building. It cannot hav e
es caped y our notice that I am not well liked in Bohemia Village," s he finis hed in a dry v oice.
"That might not be entirely true today ," Clary s aid. "Las t night the entire v illage turned out to help
y ou. I' d be willing to bet that ev ery one who was here fighting the fire will feel a proprietary
interes t in what y ou do nex t." She fell s ilent, watching Madam Ros e.
The woman looked beaten, her face s meared with s moke and grime, her pale hair falling down
her back, the only gown s he had left torn and wet and s tained. Someone had draped a coars e
blanket ov er her s houlders . Madam Ros e held a coffee cup in her hands , her head bowed as s he
s tared s ilently into the cold dregs . As Clary looked at her, wondering what s he could pos s ibly s ay
in encouragement. Madam Ros e drew a long breath and lifted her face to the rain.
"If I giv e up now," s he s aid, "then Hez ekiah Bartram has won--and s o hav e thos e towns folk

who are s o s y mpathetic this morning, the s ame ones who allowed my hous e to be s et ablaz e las t
night. They are probably hoping that I will run away , that I will leav e town s o they can forget about
me."
"Running away nev er helps ," Clary s aid. "Stay and fight for what y ou want. That' s what I intend to
do."
Then, before Clary ' s ey es Madam Ros e began to change, drawing s trength from s ome inner well
of courage. She s hrugged off the blanket and s traightened her s houlders and s pine. She kept her
chin high. On her face there was a look of new determination. Ev en her torn, dirty ros e taffeta
dres s s eemed to hav e improv ed in condition.
"Emmie and Lucy are good cooks ," Madam Ros e s aid, as if s he were thinking out loud. "As Sam
has s o often told me, and as Jos iah Grey has more recently remarked, my hous e is in a
wonderful location. All the s hips going eas tward through the canal s top here before entering the
locks , and thos e trav eling wes tward s top after leav ing the canal. Pas s engers and crews alike are
often weary of s hip food. Then there are thos e who mus t wait s ev eral day s for their s hips to
arriv e. Clary , y ou mus t return to the farm at once. In y our delicate condition, y ou need Sarah' s
care."
"My delicate condition?" Clary repeated, s tunned by the s udden change of s ubject. "I feel better
this morning than I hav e for weeks No morning s icknes s at all."
"Still, rumors fly quickly , and Sarah is certain to hear of las t night' s fire. She will worry about
Dancy and will wonder if y ou and Luke were in town during the ex citement. You and Luke,
arriv ing home s afely , will put her mind at eas e-- and my mind, too, for I will be much too bus y to
look after y ou."
"I don' t need looking after," Clary s aid.
"Jack Martin would dis agree. Clary , pleas e do as I as k."
"Only if y ou tell me what y ou intend to do," Clary s aid.
"I s hall change my life," Madam Ros e res ponded, a faint s mile curv ing her lips . "I did it once
before when I left my childhood home. I can do it again now. And when I do, I will change this
town, too."
Before Clary and Luke could locate hors es for hire or find any one with a cart who might be
trav eling in the direction of Afon Farm who would giv e them a ride, Mos es drov e into town with a
load of late-s eas on produce. Hav ing as s ured hims elf that his s on and Clary were unhurt, he at
once demanded to s ee Dancy .
"You better come back to the farm with me," Mos es s aid to his brother.
"I can' t do that," Dancy told him. "You and I both know I' m not a farmin' man. I' m a town man.
Bes ides , I couldn' t leav e Madam Ros e now. She' ll need me to help her s tart a new bus ines s ."
"I s ure hope it' s a more decent one than her las t bus ines s ," Mos es replied. "If y ou' re certain

y ou won' t go, then I' ll deliv er this produce and leav e right away . Sarah will want to know what has
happened, and s he' ll be glad to hav e Luke and Miz Clary home s afe and s ound."
By the time s he got to the farm and Sarah had been told all about the fire, Clary was too tired to
eat. She went to bed and s lept until late the following morning.
"Luke told me ev ery thing that happened in W ilmington," Sarah s aid when Clary was s eated at the
kitchen table dev ouring eggs , fried potatoes , and homemade bread. "At leas t, he told me as much
as he knows . He was more ex cited about the fire."
"Could I hav e more potatoes pleas e?" Clary polis hed her empty plate with a piece of buttered
bread.
"Glad to s ee y our mornin' s icknes s is gone," Sarah s aid. "Luke tells me y ou think Mis ter Jack
has a s on."
"I' m not hungry any more." Clary pus hed her plate as ide.
"You got s ome reas on why y ou' re not talkin' about this ?" Sarah as ked. "Or are y ou jus t plannin'
to make y ours elf s ick ov er it?"
"Luke and I s aw them together," Clary s aid. "Jack, the woman--y ou might remember her from the
canal celebrations --and a little boy who looks jus t like Jack."
"You s ure y ou' re not jumpin' to conclus ions ?" "How could I be? I know what Luke and I s aw. Oh,
God, I' m going to be s ick!" Clary rus hed out of the kitchen, heading for the priv y .
"Here," Sarah s aid a few minutes later when s he pus hed open the priv y door to hand Clary a
damp cloth. "I knew y ou were eatin' too much and too fas t. After what y ou' v e been doin' ov er the
las t few day s , y ou better be careful or y ou' ll los e that baby ."
"Jack wouldn' t mind," Clary muttered into the warm cloth s he was holding ov er her face.
"Don' t y ou talk that way ! I' m tellin' y ou, there mus t be s omethin' y ou don' t know about. Mis ter
Jack' s an hones t man. I know that, ev en if y ou don' t."
"At this moment," Clary s aid, "I don' t know what I think or what I feel."
"You go take a res t till y our s tomach s ettles ," Sarah adv is ed. "And while y ou' re res tin' , y ou think
about what I' v e s aid. W hen Mis ter Jack comes home, y ou talk to him and giv e him a chance to
ex plain. Seems to me, y ou got a bit of ex plainin' to do to him, too, when he finds out where
y ou' v e been."
Back in her room, Clary found that s he could not s leep, nor could s he lie quietly on her bed. Too
driv en by conflicting emotions to be s till, s he paced res tles s ly around the hous e, s traightening a
chair in the dining room, picking Jack' s pipe off the parlor mantel, then replacing it, and finally
walking into Jack' s room.
She knew what s he was going to do and s he knew s he ought to be as hamed of hers elf, but s he
was too dis traught to s top. If Jack would not tell her any thing about hims elf, then there was only
one way for her to dis cov er the truth.

She pulled open the bottom drawer of his highboy , where s he knew he kept his ledger. She lifted
out the heav y book and another below it that s he s aw was a record of the crops planted at Afon
Farm and how much each crop had y ielded for ev ery growing s eas on s ince Jack had come there.
Beneath the two bound books were loos e papers and a few letters .
Clary found the letter that had been in Jack' s birthday pres ent. After carefully rereading the letter,
s he dis cov ered it contained little information. It was mos tly an apology for Philly ' s refus al to
meet Clary at the Summit Bridge fes tiv ities .
Three other letters were from a Mr. Benjamin W ilmot in Philadelphia. They dealt with canal
bus ines s and with the s hares that Jack owned in the canal company --and with additional s hares
owned by s omeone in England referred to as the marques s . A fourth letter from Benjamin W ilmot
was folded around another letter. Clary s tarted to read the letter from Benjamin W ilmot.
Sir, I forward to y ou unopened the enclos ed mis s iv e from y our father. I trus t y ou remain in good
health--
Clary put as ide Mr. W ilmot' s note and opened the letter it contained, noticing as s he did s o that
this s econd letter had originally been s ealed with wax into which a des ign was imprinted. Clary
could make out the s hape of a bird and what looked like a s word, but
the s eal had been broken open acros s the middle. The cramped letters and the flouris hes and
s las hes of the handwriting ins ide s ugges ted to her that the letter had been written in either has te
or anger. She had to s tudy it for a while before s he could make any s ens e of the old-fas hioned
handwriting, and by then s he knew it was pure rage that had pos s es s ed the writer.
Jus tin, I hav e learned from Mr. W ilmot that y ou took with y ou to America a woman and that y ou
hav e ins talled her in a hous e in W ilmington. For s hame! How can y ou giv e y ours elf ov er to
lus tful pleas ures when y our family is in s uch dire need? Your poor s is ter-in-law has been s o
deeply dis tres s ed by y our des picable actions that s he has s uffered another mis carriage. You,
and y ou alone, are res pons ible for the los s of the child who s hould hav e been my nex t heir.
Damn y ou, Jus tin, y ou' v e killed my grands on.' I curs e the day y ou were born, and I blame y our
mother for cos s eting y ou when y ou s hould hav e been beaten regularly . You are no true s on of
mine--
The letter went on and on in this v ein, filling a large page, with more inv ectiv e s queez ed into the
margins . Almos t los t in all the imprecations , curs es , and promis es of future punis hment was a
s crawled s ignature written out in full as if to giv e greater weight to the angry words proceeding it:

W illiam James Quentin Marty ns on, Marques s of Hunts ley .
Clary put the letter down on the bed, where s he was s itting. Her firs t reaction was anger for Jack' s
s ake, followed by a rus h of unders tanding. No wonder Jack did not want to talk about his pas t life,
if he had a father who hated him as much as the Marques s of Hunts ley s eemed to hate Jack. But
his name was n' t Jack, it was Jus tin.
"Jus tin Marty ns on," s he whis pered. "No wonder that butler called y ou my lord. You are a
nobleman."
Chapter Eighteen
Jack came home two day s later. He was in the bes t of humors , s o he did not at firs t notice that
Clary ' s ex citement ov er the s hip he and Sam owned did not match his .
" W e s ailed through the canal," he s aid. "Imagine our as tonis hment when we s aw the condition of
Madam Ros e' s hous e. Poor Sam was thunders truck and terrified that s he might hav e been
injured."
"Did y ou s peak to Ros e?" Clary as ked.
"I did, and I was s urpris ed to learn that y ou were pres ent during the fire. Clary , I am s o grateful
that y ou were not hurt." He would hav e put his arms around her, but Clary mov ed away to the
other s ide of the fireplace. Outs ide, a cold Nov ember rain was falling, though a cheerful fire
warmed the parlor. Jack s tood watching Clary mov e around the room as if s he could not find a
s pot on which to s ettle. Intens ely cons cious of

him as s he was , Clary knew the ex act moment when his glance s harpened and his attitude took
on a new warines s .
" W hy were y ou in Bohemia Village? Mos es did go in for produce that day and took Clary home,"
Jack s aid. Madam Ros e s aid only that y ou were there and that I would hav e to as k y ou about the
circums tances of y our v is it."
Clary went s till then, looking into his ey es to watch his reaction to what s he would tell him. For it
was going to be the truth, and then s he intended to hear the full truth from him.
"Luke and I were on our way home from W ilmington," s he s aid. "It was late when we came
through the canal and the weather was bad, s o I decided to s top with Ros e for the night."
It was Jack' s turn to s tand immobiliz ed, gaping at her. "You followed me to W ilmington?" he s aid
in a hars h whis per.
"And to y our precious Philly ' s hous e," s he added.
"You had no right to intrude into my priv ate affairs ." His s uddenly arrogant tone was too much for
her.
"I had ev ery right!" s he ex ploded. "You would tell me nothing. You ev aded ev ery ques tion I
as ked about y our life or about her, and when ev as ions didn' t work, y ou lied to me."
"You are the one who lied to me!" he declared. "W hile y ou s o charmingly s urpris ed me with a
party for my birthday and wav ed farewell to me the nex t morning as if y ou really cared for me--
all the time y ou were plotting this deceit."
"I didn' t plan a thing until I s aw the lov e letter Philly tucked into the birthday pres ent s he s ent
y ou. And a remarkably intimate gift it was , too. A handmade s hirt? ' My lov e alway s , Philly ?' Giv e
me a break, Jack! W hat kind of a fool do y ou think I am?"
"You read her letter to me?" Jack' s ey es were pools of s ilv er-gray ice. "It s eems I was the fool
here--a fool to believ e that y ou might ev er trus t any man or to think that y ou could comprehend
the requirements of honor. That was not a lov e letter."
"If y ou will remember, my lord," Clary s aid, taking great pleas ure in the way he winced at her us e
of the title, "the paper fell out of y our s hirt and onto the floor. It was unfolded when I picked it up. I
could not av oid s eeing it."
"A lady would nev er hav e read it."
" W e both know I am no lady ," s he s aid. "If I were, I nev er would hav e gone to bed with y ou, would
I? But then, y our precious Philly is n' t a lady either s ince s he has borne y ou a s on who looks
remarkably like y ou."
"A s on?" Jack' s jaw fell open, and then he burs t into laughter. "Oh, Clary , is that why y ou are s o
angry ? It s erv es y ou right for not trus ting me and for dev is ing that mad v oy age to W ilmington.
My dear, y ou hav e it all wrong."
"Hav e I?" She glared at him, her fis ts clenched, her teeth s et. "Then s uppos e y ou ex plain to me
ex actly who that woman is and who the boy is . And by heav en, if y ou lie to me one

more time, I s wear I' ll do s omething des perate."
"Philly is my widowed s is ter," he s aid. "The boy is my nephew. If y ou think he res embles me,
then I am honored, for he is a fine y oung lad."
"Do y ou really ex pect me to believ e s uch a lame ex cus e?" s he s creamed at him, deeply hurt by
this new deception.
"I do becaus e it is the truth." He caught her by the s houlders , holding her s till when s he would
hav e flung away from him. "Clary , do y ou realiz e how foolis h it was of y ou to make that trip. A
y oung woman and a boy trav eling alone that way might hav e fallen into s erious danger."
"Don' t change the s ubject. You do that all the time when I' m getting too clos e to the truth, and I
won' t s tand for it any more. If Philly really is y our s is ter, which I don' t believ e for a minute, then
why is n' t s he liv ing here with y ou?"
"Becaus e s he is delicate, damn it! This farm life is too hard for her. She is us ed to lux ury and to
all the pleas ures of London. W ilmington is a poor s ubs titute for what s he has los t, but at leas t
s he is s afe there and res pected." He s topped, and Clary s aw s omething down deep in his ey es
clos e like a s lammed door.
"I heard the butler call y ou my lord," Clary s aid, "and I heard him refer to her as Lady Philippa.
W hy would an Englis h nobleman come to America and change his name and pretend to be a
humble farmer? W hy would his s is ter liv e in Delaware?"
She wanted him to tell her that his father, the marques s , had s ent him to the United States to
make certain that ev ery penny of profit from both farmland and canal s tocks was s ent home to
England. She had gathered that much information from the terrible letter in the bottom drawer of
the highboy in his bedroom. And from that letter s he knew that he was s till ly ing to her, for the
marques s had made it clear that Lady Philippa was not Jack' s s is ter. She was his mis tres s . She
might not ev en be an aris tocrat, though that detail mattered little to Clary .
"My dear, there are certain things that, in honor, I cannot tell y ou," he s aid. "I can only as k y ou to
hav e faith in me."
"You keep s ay ing that. You keep as king me to trus t y ou, but y ou don' t trus t me enough to tell me
the truth. You can' t ev en tell me y our real name."
"My name is Jack Martin."
"No, it' s not! I' v e known that much s ince I firs t met y ou. For God' s s ake, tell me s omething that' s
true! Giv e me s omething I can hang on to. Can' t y ou s ee how los t and frightened I am?"
"Sweetheart, there is no need for y ou to be frightened." He gathered her into his arms and Clary
was s o des perate for comfort that s he went to him unres is ting to lean agains t his s trength. Jack
went on as though he was ins tructing a recalcitrant child in the s imples t facts of life. "I hav e
giv en a promis e I cannot break. You will jus t hav e to take me

as y ou find me and accept that, whatev er I may once hav e been, I am now s imply Jack Martin,
gentleman farmer. You hav e told me how proud y our country men are in y our own time to be the
des cendants of people who came to this land and remade their liv es , changing their
circums tances and often their names , too. W hy can' t y ou accept that this is what I am doing?"
"Becaus e I know from pers onal ex perience that when lies are uncov ered--and they almos t alway s
are uncov ered at s ome point--the truth that is rev ealed can res ult in terrible emotional
dev as tation." Clary pus hed hers elf out of his arms . "I liv ed a lie once, in the twentieth century ,
becaus e I chos e to believ e without ques tion ev ery thing a man told me. I can' t do it again. If y ou
won' t tell me the truth, then we are finis hed."
"I would giv e ev ery thing I hav e if I could tell y ou," he whis pered, and ev en through her own
des pair, s he s ens ed his pain and the conflict to which s he was s ubjecting him. "I would giv e my
s oul, Clary ! But I cannot, I will not, break my word."
"Then I can' t continue to liv e here at Afon Farm." Clary turned toward the door s o he would not
s ee the tears s he could not prev ent from running down her cheeks . "The nex t time Mos es driv es
into Bohemia Village, I will go with him, and I will not return."
"You hav e no means of s upport," he protes ted. "You are s till a s tranger in this time."
"There y ou are," s he s aid. "That' s the difference between us right there. I told y ou an incredible
truth. I trus ted y ou with my life. You won' t ev en tell me y our name. Don' t worry about me, Jack.
Perhaps Ros e will giv e me a job." She heard his outraged gas p as s he went out of the room.
"You will think better of this in the morning," he called after her.
"No," s he s aid. "I won' t."
Clary s pent a s leeples s , tormented night, and as a res ult, her morning s icknes s returned with a
v engeance. W hen s he did not appear in the kitchen for breakfas t, Sarah came to s ee what was
the matter.
"Stay in bed," Sarah ordered. "I' ll mix up s ome of thos e herbs I gav e y ou the las t time. They
s topped the heav in' right away ."
Clary was s itting up in bed drinking a cup of the hot herbal tea, with Sarah watching to be s ure
s he s wallowed all of it, when Jack opened the door between their rooms and entered.
"I didn' t inv ite y ou to come in here." Clary did not care if s he s ounded rude.
"You are s ick," he s aid. "I heard y ou earlier, but I didn' t want to intrude."
"How v ery honorable of y ou, my lord." Noticing Sarah' s bewildered ex pres s ion. Clary added, "I
am s orry to tell y ou, Sarah, that I will be leav ing Afon Farm s hortly . I want y ou to know that I
appreciate ev ery thing y ou hav e done for me. You hav e been a good friend."

"You can' t leav e," Sarah protes ted.
"My s entiment, precis ely ," Jack s aid.
"You can' t s top me, Jack," Clary s narled at him. She s eemed to be making a habit of rudenes s
this morning, but again s he did not care She was too unhappy to be concerned about any thing but
her own pain and her uncertain future once s he left the farm.
"Mis ter Jack." Sarah s tood with hands on hips s ending a look toward Jack that ought to hav e
curled his toes . "W hy can' t y ou s ee what' s right in front of y our ey es ?"
"Don' t talk in riddles , Sarah. If y ou hav e s omething to s ay , then s ay it s traight out."
"I can' t do that," Sarah told him. "It' s not my riddle to ex plain."
"Now y ou know how it feels ," Clary s aid to Jack, taking a perv ers e pleas ure in his obv ious
confus ion and his concern ov er her illnes s She almos t laughed, but s he choked on her tea
ins tead and began coughing. Sarah took the cup from her and waited until Clary had recov ered.
"You hav e to tell him," Sarah s aid. "If y ou don' t, it will be a terrible mis take."
"Tell me what?" Jack demanded. "Clary , I> s omething s erious ly wrong with y ou?"
"She' s as healthy as that ches tnut mare of y ours ," Sarah told him and walked out of the room.
"But the mare is --" Jack gav e Clary a long, s earching look. "This is not the firs t morning when y ou
hav e been s ick. The day after the
affair at Summit Bridge y ou were ill. W hen Philly was carry ing Jus tin, s he was s ick ev ery
morning for weeks . Clary , are y ou bearing my child? Is that what all this quarreling is about? Of
cours e it is . You want y our baby to hav e a name."
"I want my baby to hav e an hones t father," Clary s aid. "I want to know who the father is ."
" W hy s hould y ou doubt it when I am certain? I am the father!" He was laughing. "Do y ou know
how wonderful this news is ? Clary , we are going to hav e a child. W e' ll make a family , y ou and I
and the baby , and Philly and Jus tin. It' s a new beginning for all of us . And I will res olv e any
doubts y ou hav e about y our child' s name." Taking her hand, he grew s erious . "Clary , will y ou
marry me?"
"I can' t becaus e I don' t know who y ou are." She s natched her hand away .
"Let us hav e an end to this nons ens e about my identity . I am Jack Martin." Bending ov er the bed
he caught her face between his hands . "How many times do I hav e to s ay it? Since the v ery firs t
day I s tepped as hore in this land, that has been my name--in Philadelphia, in W ilmington, in
Bohemia Village, and here at Afon Farm. Like all thos e other immigrants about whom y ou hav e
told me, in thes e United States , I hav e no other name."
She was too naus eated and too hearts ick to continue fighting this particular battle. Betray ed by
her heart into lov ing him when her brain kept telling her s he s hould not, pregnant and

frightened in a time not her own, s he s aw that her only alternativ e to marriage would be to follow
the cours e Ros e had once taken. But s he was not as brav e as Ros e. The thought of giv ing her
body to any one other than the man s he lov ed made her ev en more naus eated, and s he knew s he
could not purs ue s uch a life for more than a few months before s he became too large to s ell
hers elf.
" W ell?" Jack as ked, his hands s till at her face. "W ill y ou marry me?"
He did not mention lov e. Clary , wanting truth from him in all els e, found hers elf wis hing that he
would lie about this one is s ue. W hen he did not, s he decided to bargain before giv ing him what
he--and s he--wanted. If s he could not hav e lov e, then s he would hav e her own way on a few
matters at leas t.
"I believ e y ou hav e as ked me to be y our wife s olely out of a s ens e of honor," s he s aid, fully
aware that her words would s ting him in a tender s pot, "but I come from a different tradition. You
will hav e to grant me three promis es before I accept y our propos al."
"You know the promis es I cannot grant," he s aid.
"I als o know the ones y ou are capable of granting. I want to be married here at the farm, s o
Sarah, Mos es , and Luke can attend. I don' t know what foolis h rules may be in effect about blacks
going into churches us ed by white people. W e will av oid any problems on that s core by holding
the wedding here, on
y our territory , where thos e good people will be welcome."
"Agreed." He began to s mile. "I hope all the promis es y ou want from me will be as eas y to
accept."
"They are not. I as ked the eas y one firs t. The s econd thing y ou mus t promis e is that Dancy ,
Ros e, and all the girls from Ros e' s hous e mus t be here. I am as s uming that y ou plan to as k Sam,
but if not, then I want him here, too."
"Of cours e Sam will be inv ited. But the res t is impos s ible." W hen Clary would hav e protes ted,
Jack put a finger on her lips while he continued. "Two of the girls hav e gone away . According to
Madam Ros e, they hav e gone to Baltimore to work. Only the red-haired girl is left."
"Hermione," Clary s aid. "I want her here, along with Emmie and Lucy , who work in the kitchen at
Ros e' s . And Dancy , too."
Jack s tudied her face for a while, s miling as he cons idered her demand.
"I will go this far," he s aid. "W e will inv ite all of them, and the inv itations will be s incere. W hether
they accept or not is up to them."
"All right," Clary s aid. "That' s fair. But I really do want Ros e to be here. I know y ou think it' s
highly improper of me, but I like that woman in s pite of her profes s ion."
"I like her, too," Jack s aid, "though not as much as Sam does . W hat is the third promis e urn
require of me?"
"I want y ou to inv ite Philly and her little boy to our wedding."

"No, Clary ," he began, but s he s topped him.
"I will accept no ex cus es on this one," s he s aid. "That' s why I s av ed it for las t, becaus e it is the
mos t important promis e I want from y ou. If s he really is y our s is ter, then s he ought to be here.
Her pres ence at our wedding will make up for the way s he s lighted me at the canal ceremony ."
"You are tes ting me," he s aid.
"You' re damn right I am. I' m tes ting her, too. She s nubbed me. Now I want her to be polite to me."
" W hat y ou want," he s aid, turning his back and walking away from the bed, "is for Philly to come
here and make s ome mis take, to giv e away a clue to our mutual pas t." "Perhaps I am hoping for
s omething of the s ort," s he replied. "You are alway s talking about honor, s o here' s a chance for
y ou to accept a challenge. Inv ite her and s ee what happens ." "You are ex tending the challenge to
Philly , not to me," he s aid. "You hav e no idea how unfair y ou are being to her by ins is ting on this
condition to our marriage." "Perhaps if I knew more, I' d hav e a better idea about it," s he
res ponded.
"Good God, Clary , is it alway s going to be like this between us ? W ill y ou nev er s top pry ing and
try ing to learn things that are not y our concern?" "If I am going to be y our wife, then ev ery thing
about y ou is my concern," s he s aid. "That' s the deal, Jack. Take it or leav e it." "Do all
twentieth-century women bargain like this about marriage?" he demanded.
"If they don' t, they ought to," s he s aid.
"It is mos t unbecoming in a lady . Fathers , brothers , uncles , or other guardians may bargain ov er
the marriage s ettlement, but for a woman to lay down conditions in s uch a way is unheard of--and
inappropriate--and indelicate." "Gos h," Clary s aid, hoping the gleam in his ey es was humor and
not anger, "all thes e complaints and we hav en' t ev en s tarted haggling about my dowry y et." "You
don' t hav e a dowry ," he protes ted.
"Oh, y es , I hav e." She laid a hand ov er her abdomen.
"If I were not s o found of y ou," he s aid in a s oft and dangerous v oice, "I believ e I would hate y ou
at this moment."
"If I were not s o fond of y ou, I wouldn' t be bargaining at all," s he retorted. "You are the one who
has driv en me to this uns eemly behav ior. I am only fighting for what I want. Men do it all the time.
W hy s houldn' t women?" "You are not going to get along well with my s is ter," he warned her.
"Make her come to our wedding and we' ll find out about that."
"Clary !" Unex pectedly , he gav e in. "Very well, I will write to her, but as with the other gues ts y ou
want, I cannot be res pons ible for her acceptance of the inv itation." "Yes , y ou can," Clary s aid.
"Furthermore, I will read the letter y ou write, and I will add my

own note to it. And y ou had better make damn s ure s he does accept."
"You don' t trus t me at all, do y ou?"
"You got it, Jack."
Clary knew a moment of pleas ure at his reaction to her s langy res pons e. Immediately afterward
his irritation changed to a s adnes s s o profound that Clary almos t gav e up the fight then and
there. Such s harp ins is tence on hav ing her own way was foreign to her, but s he believ ed this
was the only method by which s he could hav e Jack and the truth about him, too. And the awful
truth about her own feelings for him was that, no matter who he really might be, or what he had
done to s o anger his father the marques s , or whether Philly was his s is ter or not, Clary lov ed him
and wanted to marry him.
"I wonder," s he mus ed, "if Ros e was able to s alv age any of thos e gowns from her hous e. That
wardrobe room was better than a cos tume s tore. I' m s ure I could find a perfect wedding dres s in
there."
At that point, s haking his head in dis belief, Jack walked out of her bedroom.
Chapter Nineteen
Not only did Philippa come to Jack and Clary ' s wedding, but s he als o trav eled in the s hip Jack
and Sam had purchas ed, and in Jack' s company , for he had gone to W ilmington to es cort her to
Afon Farm. They arriv ed jus t an hour before the ceremony was s cheduled to take place, at a time
when Clary was beginning to wonder if Jack would s how up or if he would leav e her to ex plain to
their gues ts why the bridegroom was mis s ing. After weeks of s trained politenes s between them
and no s how of affection from him, Clary was increas ingly uncertain of Jack' s feelings toward her.
She feared s he might hav e pus hed him too far with the demands s he was making. She was , after
all, liv ing in a time when women were ex pected to be meek and s ubmis s iv e, and s he was s ure
Jack knew s he intended to keep on pry ing and ins is ting until he told her ev ery thing about his life.
In the meantime, s he

pray ed he would unders tand that marry ing him without knowing all s he wanted to know on that
s ubject was an act of great faith on her part.
Hearing the crunch of cart wheels on the driv e, Clary ran outs ide, s till clad in her dark blue cotton
dres s . The woman bes ide Jack on the cart s eat was tight-lipped, her chin held high. The little boy
with her was dres s ed like a miniature man in a dark s uit. His burnis hed hair was perfectly
s mooth, apparently unruffled by the driv e from Bohemia Village--or perhaps , Clary thought, his
mother had combed it at the las t minute.
"Hello. I' m glad y ou got here s afely ." Clary tried to s ound welcoming. The woman s imply looked I
down her nos e at Clary and did not res pond. Immediately , Clary trans ferred her attention to ' the
little boy .
"Are y ou Jus tin?" She bes towed a wide s mile on him and receiv ed a s hy , faltering s mile in
return.
"Yes , ma' am." W hen Clary held up her arms , Jus tin jumped from the cart.
"Jus tin, mind y our manners ," his mother admonis hed with a frown. Jack helped her to alight from
the cart, and then tucking her hand into his elbow, he brought her to Clary .
"This is my s is ter, Mrs . Philippa Gordon," he s aid. "And my nephew, Mas ter Jus tin Gordon."
"I am v ery glad to hav e y ou here," Clary s aid.
"It is my unders tanding that y ou refus ed to marry Jack unles s I was pres ent," Philippa res ponded
in a cold tone.
"Your pres ence was v ery important to me." (
Clary was determined to be polite. "I hav e no family at all, and I wanted a female relativ e with me
on s uch an important day ." Did s he imagine it or was there a faint thawing of Philippa' s glacial
demeanor at thos e words ?
"Jus tin," as ked Jack, "would y ou like to come
with me while I driv e the cart around to the
barn? I feel certain the ladies would prefer to
dis cus s bridal gowns and trous s eaux without men pres ent.
"Yes , s ir. Thank y ou, s ir." Clary almos t called coward after Jack as he drov e off, leav ing her
alone with her unwilling gues t, but s he res trained the impuls e. Philippa would probably res ent
the s lur on her brother' s honor.
"He forgot to unload y our luggage," Clary s aid.
" W e hav e none. W e are not s tay ing ov ernight." "Oh, what a s hame." Clary s truggled to remain
polite. "Sarah and I prepared my room for y ou and Jus tin to us e."
"I prefer to return to W ilmington at once." Philippa purs ed her lips . "My s on and I will driv e to
Bohemia Village this ev ening with Mr. MacKenz ie and s pend the night in our cabin aboard the
Clary Ros e. W e will s ail with Mr. MacKenz ie tomorrow."
"Clary Ros e?" Clary let out a gurgle of laughter that made Philippa look at her with s urpris e. "Are
y ou telling me that thos e two s erious bus ines s men renamed the Venture in honor of Ros e and
me?"

"Apparently s o. I do wis h Jack were not inv olv ed in trade."
" W hy , becaus e he was born an aris tocrat? In this country a title is a dis adv antage, and any one
who wants to eat and keep a roof ov er his head has to hav e at leas t a minor inv olv ement in s ome
kind of trade. Bes ides , didn' t Napoleon once call the Englis h a nation of s hopkeepers ? But it was
thos e s ame ordinary s hopkeepers who finally defeated him at W aterloo."
"Actually , it was the Duke of W ellington who-- no, y ou are quite right, Mis s Cummings . Jack
frequently reminds me that we are liv ing in a different country now and he tells me that I mus t try
to los e my prejudices ."
Clary s howed her gues t into the hous e and they entered the parlor while they were talking. For
lack of flowers , s ince it was s o late in the s eas on, the parlor and dining room were decorated with
long-needled pine branches , s tems of bright berries brought in from the s urrounding woodlands ,
was hed and polis hed apples and pumpkins , and s mall s heav es of wheat. A white cloth was
s pread ov er Jack' s recently acquired des k, which would s erv e as an altar for the occas ion. Silv er
candles ticks s tood at each s ide of the des k, with a matching pair on the mantel. Philippa looked
around at the s imple furnis hings .
"I mus t tell y ou, Mis s Cummings , I once hoped that, when Jack finally chos e to wed, the
ceremony would take place in a grand cathedral with the mos t important members of s ociety in
attendance."
"Ev ery one who will be here today is a dear friend," Clary s aid. "That is what matters mos t to me,
and I believ e to Jack, too." She paus ed a moment, then plunged on with the s peech s he was
determined to make. She had detected a few cracks in Philippa' s s nobbis h, aris tocratic v eneer
and s he decided to take adv antage of the fact that they were alone.
"Mrs . Gordon, I am going to be blunt with y ou. I know Jack is withholding a lot of important
information about his pas t from me, and I won' t pretend that I don' t res ent the way he is keeping
me in the dark. W e hav e had s ome pretty v igorous dis cus s ions about it. But none of that can
change the fact that I lov e him with all of my heart. There are, howev er, a few ques tions I hav e to
as k y ou before I marry him, and I mus t ins is t on hones t ans wers .
"Is Jack really y our brother? Is Jus tin his nephew? Or do y ou and y our s on hav e s ome other
relations hip to him?"
Philippa had gone chalky white during this s peech. She s tood, a s lender figure in pales t lav ender
s ilk, one delicate hand at her throat, her gray ey es wide with as tonis hment. It was her ey es that
caught at Clary ' s heart. Facing her at clos e range for the firs t time, Clary could s ee how s imilar
thos e ey es were to Jack' s and s he knew the ans wer to her ques tions before Philippa ans wered
them.
"This is why y ou were s o determined that I s hould be pres ent today , is n' t it? So that y ou could
as k and watch my reaction while

I ans wer?" Philippa whis pered. "W hat courage y ou hav e. I would not dare to s peak s o boldly to a
s tranger who might hold my lov er' s heart in her keeping. Your courage des erv es an ans wer.
"Jack is indeed my brother, and I lov e him at leas t as much as y ou do, perhaps more, s ince I
hav e known him longer and therefore I hav e greater reas on to know how good and true he is .
Jus tin is my s on, and Jack' s nephew. Like Jack, Jus tin bears a s trong res emblance to my father,
while I am more like my mother in appearance."
"Thank y ou." Clary clos ed her ey es in relief.
"Jack told me that y ou believ ed I might be his mis tres s ," s aid Philippa. "W ell, why s houldn' t y ou
wonder about us when y ou hav e been told s o little of our circums tances ? Yes , Jack did tell me
that y ou made a daring ex curs ion to W ilmington and that while there y ou s aw the three of us
together.
"Mis s Cummings , allow me to prov ide a piece of information that may eas e y our concerns about
my brother' s emotions in regard to y ou. In late Augus t, Jack v is ited me in W ilmington, and during
thos e few day s , he repeatedly begged me to let him tell y ou ev ery thing concerning our s ituation
in this country and about our pas t liv es . I would not agree. I s till cannot agree. I am s orry if my
reticence has made y ou unhappy , but once I decided to liv e in quiet retirement, I had no other
choice but to ins is t upon maintaining my priv acy ."
"Your priv acy ," Clary repeated, s taring at
her. "Not knowing y our real relations hip to Jack nearly des troy ed me. It almos t killed my lov e for
him. I do not like people ly ing to me."
" W ill y ou believ e me if I tell y ou that Jack' s deepes t wis h is to make y ou happy ? You may trus t
him completely , Mis s Cummings . He is the bes t of men, and he has been unfailingly loy al to me
during a time of great tribulation. You s ee--" She paus ed as if gulping back tears . "You s ee, my
s on' s father is dead and I--we three hav e no family but each other. If Jack had not ins is ted that I
come with him to America, I would be liv ing alone in England, unaware that my dear brother has
found a woman who is courageous and warmhearted enough to lov e him in s pite of her doubts ."
"And this is the deep, dark s ecret that Jack has been keeping from me?" Clary as ked, knowing
there was more--much more--that ought to be told to her.
"Ev ery word I hav e s poken is the truth," s aid Philippa. "I s wear it."
"I do believ e as much as y ou hav e told me," Clary s aid, "becaus e I hav e the feeling that y ou are
not the kind of woman who can liv e eas ily with s ecrets . But I s till don' t unders tand--"
"Ex cus e me, Miz Clary ," Sarah s aid, interrupting them. "If y ou' re goin' to get dres s ed in time for
the weddin' , y ou better s tart now. There' s more hors es and carts comin' up the road, and y ou
don' t want folks s eem' y ou before it' s time for y our entrance."

"Thank y ou, Sarah. You are right. Mrs . Gordon, we will talk more about this later. Perhaps y ou
would like to wait here in the parlor?"
"I alway s hoped," s aid Philippa, "that, when my brother married, I would be inv ited to attend his
bride. May I help y ou to dres s ?"
"Thank y ou. And jus t s o there won' t be any s ecrets on my part, and knowing that y ou are certainly
able to count and will s oon figure it out for y ours elf, I ought to tell y ou that I am going to hav e
Jack' s baby ."
Clary was n' t s ure ex actly why s he s uddenly felt compelled to mention her pregnancy . It was n' t
obv ious y et, s o s he could hav e waited until after the wedding. She did wonder if s uch a s tartling
announcement might make Philippa rev eal s till more about her life and about Jack' s , for Clary did
not know all of it y et. She had not heard any ex planation for that furious letter from the marques s ,
nor a reas on why the marques s had referred to an unknown woman who had accompanied his
s on to America, when the woman was in fact his own daughter. Or was Philippa Jack' s half s is ter
by another father?
"Jack' s child?" Philippa' s pale, delicate face blus hed bright red and then, amaz ingly , became
s uffus ed with pleas ure and with another emotion that Clary could not identify . Philippa looked
from Clary to Sarah for confirmation.
"It' s true," s aid Sarah, nodding, "though I do think s he ought to keep it quiet for another month or
two, s o people won' t talk. Call me if
y ou need me, Miz Clary . I' ll be in the kitchen till the preacher gets here." W ith that, s he left Clary
alone with Philippa.
"Jack did not tell me this ," Philippa s aid. "But then, as y ou and I hav e caus e to know, he is the
v ery s oul of dis cretion. Oh, Clary --may I call y ou Clary ? And y ou s hall call me Philly . I am s o
happy for y ou. If y ou lov e Jack, then y ou mus t want--and he mus t be s o--he lov es children, he
has alway s been s o good with Jus tin. Oh, dear, I fear I am not making much s ens e. Clary , how
brav e y ou are to be s o cheerful. But then, y ou could not be frightened with Jack to s us tain y ou.
How fortunate y ou are to hav e him."
"This is v ery s trange," Clary s aid. "I was afraid y ou would be offended, but I wanted to be
completely hones t with y ou. I put great s tock in hones ty . I nev er imagined that y ou would take the
news this well or that y ou would be happy for me."
"You will be married in jus t an hour," Philippa s aid, "s o there can be no ques tion about the
child' s legitimacy . No, I do not think there will be any problem."
" W hat kind of problem were y ou thinking of?" Clary as ked, s till intrigued by the woman' s
unex pected reaction.
" W ell, inheritance rights , of cours e--this farm, that fine s hip--"
"Let us both hope that we won' t hav e to worry about inheriting any thing from Jack for decades ,"
Clary s aid s ternly .
"Oh, no, I did not mean--that is --oh, Clary ,

we are truly s is ters now. Both mothers , y ou s ee. I feel quite certain that we s hall be the v ery bes t
of friends ."
"I would like that," Clary s aid, pus hing to the back of her mind all the ques tions s he s till had
about Jack' s life and his s is ter' s .
Clary could hear the v oices of gues ts arriv ing and s he knew s he would hav e to get out of the
parlor before Mos es or Luke began s howing people into it. Taking the arm of the s till-chattering
Philippa, Clary drew her acros s the hall and into her bedroom. As s he s hut the door s he caught a
glimps e of Luke on the front v eranda.
"Luke," s he called, and when he turned to ans wer her, s he s aid, "W hen Ros e comes , will y ou
s end her to my room? I hav e a feeling that I am going to be grateful for her company , not to
mention her help with all the hooks on my dres s ."
"Yes , ma' am," Luke ans wered, grinning. "But y ou better hurry up. Mis ter Jack looks awful
impatient to me. If y ou don' t come out of that room on time, he jus t might charge in there and pull
y ou out!"
W hen Ros e appeared, s he in no way res embled the ers twhile madam of the local hous e of ill
repute. Her hair was pulled into an elegant coil at the back of her head and topped by a s mall
s traw bonnet trimmed in pale pink flowers to match her dres s , which was made in the s imples t
des ign pos s ible, with a s hallow neckline and long s leev es . Her glov es were cream
kid, her earrings and brooch were made of s eed pearls s et in s wirls of gold wire.
"Good heav ens , aren' t y ou dres s ed y et?" Stripping off her glov es , Ros e s et to work on the
recalcitrant hooks at the front of Clary ' s bodice, which Clary had been try ing to fas ten with the
fumbling help of Philippa.
"My hands won' t s top s haking," Clary confes s ed.
"Brides are s uppos ed to be nerv ous ," s aid Philippa, "but not their s is ter-in-laws . I fear I hav e
been of no as s is tance at all."
"You are Jack' s s is ter?" Ros e s hot her a ques tioning look. "I didn' t ev en know he had one till
Sam told me this morning. So y ou are the lady from W ilmington."
"I hav e been liv ing in retirement," s aid Philippa.
"So I unders tand. W e will be s eeing more of each other in the nex t day or two. I am trav eling to
Philadelphia on the Clary Ros e."
"You are leav ing Bohemia Village?" Clary pulled away from Ros e' s as s is ting hands . "Pleas e
don' t go!"
"It will only be for a week. I want to order new furniture from a cabinetmaker in Philadelphia. And
y ou, dear Clary , ought not to mis s me at all. You are ex pected to be completely occupied with
y our new hus band. Now s tand s till and let me finis h thos e hooks ."
Clary ' s wedding gown was pale blue s ilk. It did not come from Ros e' s s tock of cos tumes , for all
the clothing in the wardrobe room was ruined

by s moke and water. Ins tead, Ros e purchas ed the fabric from a s hipment pas s ing through the
canal on the way to Philadelphia, and s he gav e the material to Clary as a wedding pres ent. A
s eams tres s who had recently opened a s hop in Bohemia Village had made the dres s , cutting and
fitting it on Clary during one long v is it and adding the final touches in a s econd fitting only the
day before the wedding.
Becaus e Clary wanted to be able to wear the gown again it was s imply made, with a low, round
neckline filled in with remov able white lace that ended in a narrow ruffle at the throat. The
s leev es were puffed to the elbow and finis hed with a wide lace ruffle, which was als o remov able.
The wais tband was s et a good two inches abov e Clary ' s own wais tline-- which would be an
adv antage in the coming months as her figure ex panded--and the full s kirt was gathered to it with
tiny cartridge pleats . The s kirt was s upported by a s tiff petticoat.
Ins tead of wearing a hat Clary parted her dark hair in the center and pulled it back in the s ty le of
the day , fas tening it with combs decorated with blue s ilk ros es . Elbow-length white kid glov es and
flat blue s ilk s lippers completed her wedding outfit.
W hen s he was fully dres s ed and beginning to be nerv ous , Clary heard a knock on the door
between her room and Jack' s .
"Philly ," Jack called through the door, "may I s peak to y ou for a moment?"
After Philippa hurried into her brother' s room, Clary and Ros e looked at each other.
"I mus t s ay ," Ros e remarked dry ly , "that y ou appear to be ev ery bit as s haken now as y ou were
on the firs t day I met y ou."
"This is a different kind of s haky ," Clary res ponded. "Ros e, y ou hav e been my friend s ince that
day . That' s why I wanted y ou with me this morning."
"I wonder if y ou unders tand what y our friends hip has meant to me," Ros e s aid, touching her
hand.
"Clary ?" Philippa had returned. "Jack as ked me to giv e thes e to y ou and to tell y ou that he is
eager for the ceremony today ." She held out her open hand. There, on the pale lav ender kid of
her glov es , lay a pair of s apphire-and-diamond earrings , the s tones s et in gold. "Thes e belonged
to our mother. Jack and I are agreed that y ou s hould hav e them."
"Very nice." Ros e picked up one of the earrings , holding it up to the light s o s he could s ee it
better. "Thes e are real s tones , Clary ."
"Of cours e they are." Philippa appeared to be offended by Ros e' s bus ines s like as s es s ment of
the jewelry .
Clary thought if Philippa were not s o well bred s he would hav e s natched the earring out of Ros e' s
fingers . Seeing the mercenary gleam in Ros e' s ey es , Clary repres s ed a laugh and, at the s ame
time, dis cov ered that much of her nerv ous nes s was gone.
"I am glad I had my ears pierced a couple

of y ears ago," Clary s aid. "If I can jus t get my glov es off, I will put on my wedding pres ent and
wear the earrings to the ceremony ."
"Let me." Ros e attached the earring s he was holding. She put out her hand with a regal ges ture
and Philippa s urrendered the other earring. W ondering if ev er another bride had had two s uch
dis parate attendants , Clary repres s ed a fres h giggle and tried to s tand s till. Ros e s tepped back,
ins pecting her handiwork. "Jack alway s did hav e ex cellent tas te." She pulled on her glov es and,
after a s ly grin at Clary , went to the door. "Are y ou coming, Philippa?"
"Yes ." Philippa' s ey ebrows went up a notch or two at the familiar us e of her giv en name. "I ought
to find Jus tin. He may be up to s ome mis chief."
Left alone, Clary clos ed her ey es , try ing to calm the s udden frantic beating of her heart and
acknowledging that with the moment clos e at hand s he was afraid--afraid that Jack was only
marry ing her becaus e s he was pregnant with his child, afraid that all the s ecrets in his pas t might
prev ent them from liv ing happily together. And s till, in s ome deeply hidden corner of her mind,
lay the fear that s he would without warning be returned to the twentieth century and nev er s ee
Jack again. Her terror at that pos s ibility only confirmed to her how much s he lov ed him. Doubts
and s ecrets did not matter in that moment. All s he was certain of was her deep and abiding lov e
for the man who would that day become her hus band.
"Are y ou ready ?" Sam opened the door a crack and peeked around the edge of it. "Ros e s aid y ou
were dres s ed, and Jack is waiting for y ou."
"Yes ." Clary took his arm. "Let' s do it."
"Ye' ll be happy , las s . He' s a good man."
"That' s what ev ery one keeps telling me. It' s what I believ e in my heart." Impuls iv ely , s he kis s ed
him on the cheek. "Thank y ou, Sam, for ev ery thing y ou hav e done for me. You are a good man
y ours elf and a true friend."
"Ach, las s ie, y e' re embarras s in' me now." Sam s lipped into his fake accent and Clary s napped
out of her ov erly emotional, clos e-to-tears mood to grin at him, which, s he knew, was the reaction
he hoped for. Still s miling, s he let Sam propel her out of her room and acros s the hall to her
wedding ceremony .
She s aw her friends in the parlor, all of their faces turned toward her. Mos es , Luke, and Dancy
wore dark s uits and white s hirts . Sarah was in her Sunday -bes t gray gown with white fichu and a
s potles s white s carf wound around her head. Emmie in y ellow and Lucy in pale peach s tood nex t
to Sarah.
Clary s miled at Sarah and the others . Then her glance mov ed on to Hermione in a s oft green
gown with her outrageous ly fals e red hair hidden beneath a v ery proper s traw bonnet--Ros e' s
doing, Clary was s ure--and to Ros e hers elf in her lady like pale pink gown, and Philippa in
lav ender s ilk with a hand on her s on' s s houlder. There were a doz en or s o other people pres ent,
men with whom Jack had worked on the canal,

neighboring landholders , mos t of them with their wiv es , the preacher in his black s uit and white
collar. Clary ' s gaz e s kimmed ov er all of them quickly and came to res t on Jack.
He was wearing a perfectly tailored gray s uit s he had nev er s een before. The fit and the cloth
s ugges ted that it had been made in London. Jack' s ey es were s hadowed and Clary thought he
looked nerv ous .
There was no mus ic. Clary and Sam s imply walked acros s the parlor to where Jack was waiting.
Sam remov ed her hand from his arm and placed it into Jack' s hand. The ceremony was brief. The
ring Jack s lipped onto Clary ' s finger was plain gold, but then he added a s econd ring, this one a
ruby s urrounded by diamonds .
"Your betrothal ring," Jack murmured, jus t before he kis s ed her.
Afterward, while bride and groom accepted the congratulations of their gues ts , the witnes s es
crowded up to s ign the documents . A few minutes later Clary took the opportunity to glance at the
names . Right nex t to the name Samuel James MacKenz ie, Ros e had s igned hers elf as As trid
Ros e Anders dottir. On the line abov e was written Philippa Gordon. And Clary ' s new hus band had
s igned hims elf as s imply Jack Martin.
Clary s aw Jack watching her and knew he knew that s he had been hoping for s ome clue in his
legal s ignature or in his s is ter' s .
"This is not a day for ques tions . This is a da) for rejoicing," he s aid to her. Then he added I
with a glance toward the dining room, "From the meal that y ou and Sarah hav e prepared, I ex pect
our gues ts to go home well s atis fied."
W hen s he firs t realiz ed that her wedding day was s et for the fourth Thurs day in Nov ember, Clary
had been pleas ed. She knew there would be no official Thanks giv ing until Pres ident Lincoln
proclaimed the holiday decades later, but for her wedding reception s he and Sarah produced a
menu of roas t wild turkey , baked ham, s weet potatoes , relis hes , mas hed turnips , corn bread and
bis cuits , pumpkin pie and apple pie, with Sarah' s lemon pound cake iced and decorated with
fros ting flowers for the wedding cake. There was cider to drink, s ome of it hard and fiz z y ,
Kentucky whis key for the men, Madeira wine or s herry for the ladies , and a large pot of coffee.
Clary intended to celebrate each anniv ers ary of her marriage with a roas t turkey dinner, thus
unofficially keeping a holiday s he cheris hed--and es pecially celebrating it on thos e y ears when it
fell on a Thurs day . She would tell Jack what s he was doing, but no one els e.
The wedding hav ing taken place s hortly before noon, the celebration ended s ome four hours later
as darknes s began to fall, the gues ts has tening to leav e s o they could reach their des tinations
before night.
"Philippa, wait." Clary s topped Jack' s s is ter as s he was preparing to get into the cart Sam was
driv ing. "Jack and I would like y ou and Jus tin

to join us for the Chris tmas holiday . Pleas e s ay y ou will."
"I am not certain," Philippa began, but Jack s topped her protes tations .
"I will accept no indecis ion," he s aid. "Now that y ou and Clary hav e met, I would like y ou to
become friends . It would be good for Jus tin to be able to run freely about the farm. He is too much
res tricted, Philly . So are y ou, for that matter."
"Do y ou really think it would be wis e for me to s pend s o much time here?" Philippa s till looked
doubtful. "I might s ay --that is , I cannot alway s -- Jack, are y ou s ure y ou want us here?"
"I will ans wer for my hus band." Clary s lipped her arm through Jack' s in a fond ges ture. "W e both
want y ou to come and s tay for at leas t a week. How can we be friends , as Jack hopes , and as I
hope, too, if we don' t know each other?"
"I am afraid--that is --it is difficult for me-- Jack?"
It s eemed to Clary that Philippa was appealing to her brother to cancel the inv itation. Clary waited
to hear what Jack would s ay .
"I want y ou here, Philly . W e hav e been s eparated too often in thes e las t s ix y ears . I am
beginning a new life. I would like to s ee y ou do the s ame."
" W ell, if y ou are certain--that is , if y ou don' t think I might accidentally --I mean--" She s topped,
obv ious ly flus tered, and took refuge in good manners . "Thank y ou v ery much. If the weather
holds s o that trav el through the canal is not s topped, Jus tin and I will be happy to accept y our
inv itation."
"Uncle Jack," s aid Jus tin, who was s itting on a temporary s eat in the back of the cart between
Emmie and Lucy , "will y ou take me hunting? Luke s ay s y ou take him when y ou go after
s quirrels ."
"If the weather is fit, we will all go together," Jack promis ed. "Now, Philly , don' t s ay he can' t. It is
time for him to begin his manly training. I will teach him to ride a hors e, too."
As they drov e away , Jus tin looked back, his s mall face alight with ex citement at thes e promis es .
"Pray that the weather does hold," Clary told Jack, "or that is going to be one dis appointed little
boy ."
"If they cannot come for Chris tmas , I will s ee to it that they v is it early in the new y ear," Jack s aid.
"Philly needs to get out more, too. I hav e been remis s in my care of them."
"From what I' v e s een, y ou hav e taken v ery good care of them," Clary told him.
"I don' t want to talk about my s is ter and her s on any longer," Jack s aid. "This night is for y ou and
me, Clary ." He drew her acros s the v eranda and into the hous e where Sarah, Mos es , and Luke
were carry ing the las t of the food out of the dining room.
"I left a tray of food here on the s ideboard jus t like y ou wanted, Mis ter Jack," Sarah s aid.
"Thank y ou for ev ery thing y ou' v e done today ,"

Clary told them all. "Sarah, I feel as though I s hould help y ou with all thes e dis hes ."
"No, y ou won' t!" Sarah' s res pons e to this s ugges tion was characteris tically tart. "This is y our
weddin' night. Your place is with y our hus band, not in the kitchen."
"Thank y ou for that, Sarah," Jack s aid, laughing. After he and Clary were alone, he added, "You
are a lov ely bride. I am glad I chos e the s apphire earrings to giv e y ou today . They are mos t
becoming with that gown."
"Ros e thought s o, too, after s he checked the s tones to be s ure they weren' t pas te." Hearing his
chuckle, s he as ked, "Do y ou mean to s ay that there is more jewelry ?"
"You mus t allow me to keep a few s urpris es for the future," he teas ed.
Clary opened her mouth to as k another ques tion, then clos ed it again. This was not the time to
interrogate him and s he was s uddenly remarkably nerv ous . Jack s eemed to unders tand what s he
was feeling.
" W ould y ou like a little time alone?"
"I think s o. It has been s uch a bus y day ."
"Do y ou need help with y our dres s ?" W hen s he s hook her head, he tilted her chin up to kis s her
lightly on the lips . "Clary , y ou mus t know that I will do ev ery thing I can to keep y ou s afe and
happy ."
"I do know." Jus t as y ou' v e kept Philippa s afe, s he thought with a s urge of tendernes s .
In her room Clary dis cov ered, s pread out upon her bed, a lacy white nightgown and matching
robe trimmed with white s atin ribbons .
"Oh, Jack." She lifted the gown. It was gos s amer light and s heer as a cobweb. Letting it fall onto
the bed again s he quickly remov ed her gown, petticoat, chemis e, and the light cors et the
s eams tres s who had made her wedding dres s had ins is ted s he mus t wear. She was hed her face
and hands and brus hed out her hair. W hen s he was finis hed s he donned the nightgown and robe.
Glancing rather uncertainly toward the connecting door, s he noticed that it was not fully clos ed. It
s prang open at the touch of her fingertips . Ins ide his bedroom, Jack was waiting for her.
"You hav e a new robe, too," s he s aid, noting the dark red brocade in which his tall figure was
wrapped.
"A gift from Philly . She ins is ted that I could not go to my bridal night wearing my old blue
dres s ing gown," he s aid. "I thought it only good manners not to inform her that I hav e no intention
of wearing it for more than a few minutes ."
They s tood les s than a foot apart, gaz ing at each other.
"Are y ou nerv ous , Clary ?" He rais ed his hands to clas p her fingers lightly in his .
"I s houldn' t be, but I am," s he admitted.
"Perhaps that is becaus e y ou unders tand what this night means . Before dawn comes , y ou and I
will be bound together for all time. If y ou hav e any res erv ations , this is y our las t chance to
leav e."
"I hav e a great many res erv ations ," s he s aid,

"and y ou know what they are. But I will not leav e y ou, Jack. W hat I want mos t in this world is to
s tay with y ou and to be y our wife."
"Do y ou hav e the s lightes t notion how much I lov e y ou?" His v oice trembled a little as he s poke.
"Lov e?" Clary gas ped. "You do?"
"You are my v ery heart," he whis pered, "and all the more becaus e I know the depth of y our lov e
for me."
"You know that?"
"How els e could y ou come to me like this , trus ting me s o much, though until now y ou hav e had
little proof of my lov e?"
"A wedding ring," s he s aid. "A betrothal ring. Your mother' s s apphire earrings . New night clothes
for this s pecial ev ening."
"Thos e are not proof. They are only s y mbols . The real proof is in y our heart, which unders tands
my heart without words ." He bent his head to touch her lips with his . "I will alway s lov e y ou,
Clary ."
She went into his arms , banis hing all ques tions and doubts and differences between them for one
bles s ed night. Although it was les s than a month s ince they had lain together, Clary felt as if it
had been y ears . She wanted Jack with a s teady , ferv ent need, and from the way in which he
embraced her, s he knew his des ire matched or, pos s ibly , s urpas s ed hers .
She wound her arms around his neck and lifted hers elf up onto her toes , pres s ing agains t him.
The edges of his robe fell apart and Clary ' s
s heer garments prov ided no s erious barrier to the s udden heated pres s ure of his hard arous al.
She moaned when he releas ed her, but it was only to s hift pos ition s o he could lift her off her feet
and carry her to his bed.
A s hort time later her nightgown and robe drifted through the air like the wis ps of fog they
res embled to land bey ond Clary ' s line of s ight. Jack tore off his robe and came down bes ide her,
ov erwhelming her s ens es with his wild, pas s ionate kis s es and his erotic cares s es . He knew how
to s tir her to her v ery s oul. From the firs t time they had made lov e, Jack had ins tinctiv ely done all
the right things to make certain that s he would be as s atis fied as he was . But on this night there
was a new tendernes s to his lov emaking.
"Nev er has any one trus ted me as y ou do," he whis pered, his lips upon her throat and then on her
breas t. "Your faith in me and y our willingnes s to ov erlook what I cannot tell y ou s how me that
y ou lov e me, too. I will s pend the res t of my life prov ing to y ou that y our trus t is not mis placed."
If s he s us pected for a moment or two that his words were deliberately chos en to prev ent further
attempts on her part to penetrate the my s tery s till s urrounding him, s he did not allow thos e
thoughts to remain for long. Nothing could des troy the lov e s he felt for him. W hen Jack ros e
abov e her, looking deep into her ey es , s he was cons cious only of her hus band and his pas s ion,
which was her pas s ion, too.

W ith one s wift, s ure mov ement he made her his , and Clary cried out in joy and pulled him clos er.
"Don' t leav e me, Clary ." They were fus ed together and Clary began to tremble with impending
ecs tas y . "I could not liv e without y ou."
"Jack." There was no time to s ay any thing more before s he dis s olv ed into him, into his hot,
driv ing lov e. She knew he was right, and one of her ques tions was ans wered. She could not
return to the twentieth century , for s he and Jack were bound together forev er as he had s aid they
would be, and if they were s eparated, both of them would s urely die.
Chapter Twenty
You need not hav e s pent thes e las t few weeks keeping to y our own room at night," Clary s aid.
"I thought it was neces s ary , though it was unbearably difficult to s tay away from y ou. You may
hav e noticed my v ile humor." Jack pres s ed a kis s jus t below her nav el.
"Then why did y ou s tay away ?" She s ighed with s ens uous pleas ure as his hand s lid along the
ins ide of her thigh.
"Firs t, becaus e y ou needed time for y our anger to cool. You do recall how furious y ou were when
I returned from W ilmington?"
"I am not likely to forget it, nor how angry y ou W ERE in res pons e." Clary s uppres s ed a gas p
when Jack' s lips mov ed lower, s eeking a particularly s ens itiv e s pot.
"I als o thought that a period of abs tinence would make our wedding night more s pecial," he
murmured.

"It has been that. Jack, s top--oh, no, don' t s top. Oh, my God!" Clary res ponded to his touch and
his knowing laugh with a loud cry . "I' v e married a madman. How can y ou make me feel this way
s o often?"
"How can y ou keep on talking at a time like this ?"
But her talking had jus t ceas ed. Clary was bey ond ans wering him. W av es of intens e pleas ure
was hed ov er her, leav ing her unable to do any thing but cling to Jack. It was not until much later,
when he lay with his head on her abdomen and her hands were laced through his hair, that s he
s poke again.
" W e nev er did s ettle that argument after y ou came home from W ilmington," s he murmured.
"I thought we did. The three demands y ou made of me were met, and s o we hav e wed. You and
my s is ter are well on y our way to becoming friends . I s ee no further caus e for dis cord between
us ."
Clary chewed on her lip, debating whether or not to tell him about the day when s he had opened
the bottom drawer of the highboy jus t acros s the room from the bed where they lay , the day when
s he had found and read the letter written by his father, the marques s . She thought about all the
ques tions rais ed by that letter, and then decided not to s poil a perfect wedding night by
mentioning it. The letter could wait. But s he could not res is t giv ing him the opportunity to
v olunteer what s he wanted to know.
"Neither y ou nor Philippa has told me ev ery thing," s he s aid.
In res pons e to her words , Jack lifted his head and looked directly at her.
"My lov e, I am going to giv e y ou a little hus bandly adv ice. Do not poke into dark corners where
y ou ought not to be. Your trus t means the world to me, Clary . Do not break my heart by
withdrawing it."
"I won' t." She s moothed back his hair and let her fingers trail along his cheekbones and down to
his lips . "My problem is , I lov e y ou s o much that I want to know ev ery thing about y ou. But I don' t
want to hurt y ou, Jack."
"Then let well enough alone, s weetheart, and believ e that y ou know ev ery thing y ou need to know.
I lov e y ou and I will nev er s top lov ing
YOU."
"All right." Her hands s moothed their way acros s his s houlders and he lowered his head again
with a contented s igh. "From this night on, I will do as y ou want."
Jack and Clary did not return to Bohemia Village until the Saturday two weeks after their wedding.
The interv ening day s were quiet ones as the warm autumn weather s tretched on. Clary had nev er
known s uch peace or s uch happines s . Her morning s icknes s was all but gone, her nights were
s pent in Jack' s arms , and her day s were bus y with the las t chores of the harv es t s eas on. Both
Jack and Sarah ins is ted that s he mus t res t each afternoon.

Sometimes Jack joined her in her own bedroom.
"I would like y ou to ride into town with me tomorrow," he told her on one of thos e afternoons when
the s un outs ide their window was pale gold and low in the s ky and the bare tree branches rus tled
and creaked in a s udden gus t of wind. "There is s omething I want to s how y ou. I think y ou will be
pleas antly s urpris ed."
"I will go any where with y ou," s he replied in laz y contentment. "Is it about the Clary Ros e> W ill
s he be berthed at Bohemia Village? I would like to go aboard her."
"The Clary Ros e ought to be at or near Baltimore tomorrow," Jack replied. "Sam is taking a cargo
s outh from Philadelphia."
"Then is y our s urpris e s omething to do with Ros e?"
"You are the mos t pers is tent woman I hav e ev er known. Do not teas e me any more or I will do
terrible things to y ou." He illus trated his point with a cares s that made Clary catch her breath.
"Do y ou realiz e that I hav e forgotten how to blus h?" s he murmured, touching him in a s imilar
way . "And it' s all y our doing."
Jus t before they left the farm the following morning, Jack pres ented her with a dark blue woolen
cloak. There was no my s tery about where he obtained the frequent gifts he gav e to her. On Jack' s
ins tructions Sam bought them on his v oy ages and dropped them off at Bohemia Village when he
pas s ed through the canal. But
Clary nev er could decide jus t how Jack got the packages to the hous e without her s eeing them or
where he hid them until the time when he put them into her hands .
"You will need this if y ou are to s tay warm today ," Jack s aid, folding her in the thick fabric.
"You hav e become an ov erprotectiv e hus band."
"I hope that remark is intended as a compliment." He fas tened the clas p at her throat and kis s ed
her.
"Yes , it is ," s he s aid, s miling at him. "Since my parents died, I hav e pretty much had to fend for
my s elf. I' v e only recently dis cov ered that I like hav ing y ou care enough about me to want to
protect me. I like being s elf-s ufficient, but I like being lov ed, too."
Clary was glad of her new cloak, for a cold wind whipped about them on the driv e to Bohemia
Village, and s treaks of clouds high in the atmos phere s ugges ted the pos s ibility of rain or s now in
the near future.
"Here we are." Jack pulled up in the us ual place at the market along the canal. There was not
much produce left from the farm to s ell s o late in the s eas on--a few bas kets of apples , s ome
pumpkins --though there was the us ual bartering of other merchandis e going on. Clary was n' t
pay ing attention to the market or to the fact that Jack immediately s old off their produce to a man
on a canal boat. She was too bus y s taring at Ros e' s hous e to notice what was going on around
her.

"Good heav ens !" s he ex claimed. "I don' t believ e it."
The repairs to the fire-damaged hous e had been completed s ince s he had las t s een it on the day
before her wedding. A new and more elaborate v eranda graced the front, with carv ed wooden
pillars to s upport the v eranda roof and wide front s teps leading up from the s treet. W here the old
hous e had been unpainted, this remodeled v ers ion was neatly whitewas hed and ev ery window
boas ted a pair of gleaming black s hutters
"Jack, is this the s urpris e?"
"It is . Mis s Anders dottir is now running a res pectable inn and dining room."
"She really ought to change that las t name," Clary s aid thoughtfully .
"Perhaps Sam will conv ince her to do s o." Jack' s ey es were dancing with humor, and Clary knew
he had div ined her thoughts .
"Is Sam completely finis hed with his work on the canal?" Clary as ked. Jack' s own inv olv ement in
the canal project had ended s hortly after the grand opening, and whenev er he s poke of Sam
thes e day s , it was in connection with the s hip they jointly owned.
"He is . The canal will be completely finis hed by s pring, with all thos e famous collaps ing s ides
properly s hored up to prev ent further mud s lides The locks are already functioning well. Thus ,
Sam is once more the s eafaring man he has y earned to be."
" W ith regular s topov ers here in Bohemia Village," Clary added, "which is all to the good."
"Sweetheart, y ou hav e the s oul of a matchmaker," Jack teas ed. "I can only as s ume it is becaus e
y ou are s o happy with me that y ou want y our friends to be as happily married."
" W hatev er gav e y ou that idea?" Clary teas ed him back and he laughed.
Clary found the new interior of Ros e' s hous e as different from what it had been as the outs ide. In
the main room, the bar had been remov ed in fav or of tables and chairs placed to take full
adv antage of the fine canal v iew.
"There is a new taproom on the lower lev el," Ros e ex plained. "It opens at the back of the hous e,
s o people can enter directly from the market area or jus t cros s the road from the canal."
Ros e' s own appearance was altered, too. Gone were the pink taffeta ruffles and laces , the corded
decorations , the curls and wav es and braids of her former cos tumes and hairdos . This new
v ers ion of As trid Ros e Anders dottir was dres s ed in a deep, muted s hade of ros e. Her gown was
modes t in s ty le and s imply ornamented. Her pale hair was s wept into the s mooth coiled
arrangement s he had worn at Clary ' s wedding. Howev er, Ros e s howed Clary around the
remodeled hous e with the s ame confident air s he had alway s dis play ed.
To the left of the front entrance was Ros e' s office Behind the office was a s mall priv ate s itting
room, and then Ros e' s bedroom, which was decorated in s hades of pale pink with ecru lace.
Out near the front door, the old, rickety s teps to the s econd floor had been replaced by a wide

s tairway with a polis hed mahogany banis ter
"The ups tairs rooms are filled ev ery night," Ros e s aid in ans wer to Clary ' s ques tion about the
s tate of her new bus ines s . "Trav elers don' t know or care about the original us e to which this
hous e was put. I mus t confes s , I found it a bit dis concerting at firs t to s ee men bringing their
wiv es and children here and to hav e them remain ov er night when I was prev ious ly accus tomed
to a more frequent turnov er of gues ts . Howev er, not as much furniture is broken thes e day s , and
we no longer hav e to change the s heets as often as in the pas t, which is a great monetary
s av ings I am als o able to charge more for family groups than I dared ex tract from a man for the
priv ilege of taking one of the girls into a room for an hour or two."
"I am glad to know that y ou hav en' t changed entirely ," Clary res ponded, laughing at thes e cris p
and practical comments .
She and Jack ate a late midday meal in the public dining room and dis cov ered that
Hermione--whos e flamboy ant red hair was > s lowly growing back to its natural dark brown s hade
and who was as s oberly dres s ed as Ros e in a brown outfit with black braid trim-- was acting as
Ros e' s as s is tant manager. Dancy s till ruled ov er the bar in the taproom and made occas ional
foray s into the upper room as a warning to cus tomers to keep order And Emmie and Lucy , turned
loos e in the kitchen, were producing a remarkable array of delicious food.
The newly weds returned to Afon Farm with their cart loaded with packages that Clary intended as
Chris tmas pres ents . Fearing that the weather would change and s he might not be able to trav el
into town again before the holiday , s he s pent the afternoon in the new s hops and at the booths
along the canal.
"Jus t where, may I as k, do y ou intend to conceal thes e gifts until Chris tmas Day ?" Jack as ked as
they drov e along.
"Under my bed or in the blanket ches t," s he replied.
"They won' t all fit, my dear."
"I s uppos e we could s tore a few in the highboy in y our room." Clary s ent a s idelong glance his
way to s ee what his reaction would be to this s ugges tion. "I s eem to remember that there was a
lot of empty s pace in the bottom drawer "
" W hen did y ou look into the bottom drawer?" A note of s harpnes s crept into his v oice.
"On the day after y ou cut y our arm," s he replied eas ily . "Perhaps y ou were too fev eris h to recall
it, but y ou s pent that day in bed working on y our ledger"
I hav en' t forgotten." An oddly tens e little s ilence fell between them until Clary s poke again.
"Do y ou think I might find s pace in there to hide s ome of thes e packages ? Jus t until I wrap them
up for Chris tmas , y ou unders tand. Perhaps y ou could remov e thos e big books until then"

"I do not think s o." It was as firm a dis mis s al as Clary had ev er receiv ed.
"I s ee. W ell, then, I s hall hav e to find s ome other place."
"That would be bes t." Another s ilence followed his words . Then Jack s aid, "Clary , y ou hav e not
opened that drawer more than the one time, hav e y ou?"
" W hat reas on could I hav e to go through y our ledgers ?" s he s aid, ev ading a direct ans wer.
" W hat are y ou hiding in there, Jack? The crown jewels , s tolen from the Tower of London and
s muggled into this country ? My Chris tmas pres ent? The s hrunken head of s ome former wife?"
" W hat a bloodthirs ty idea." But he did not laugh, nor was he div erted from the s ubject "So y ou
hav e been rifling through my priv ate papers . I do not take kindly to hav ing my priv acy inv aded."
"I do not take kindly to people who deceiv e me," s he retorted, hurt by his s udden coolnes s .
" W hat did y ou dis cov er, Clary ? Ev idence that I did murder s ome prev ious wife? Or were y ou
more interes ted in how wealthy I am? Did y ou read the ledgers ?"
"Certainly not." She was glad that this s tatement could carry conv iction. "I don' t think I could
figure out thos e long columns of figures that I s aw y ou working on while y ou were recuperating
from y our wounded arm." She hoped mention of his arm would call to his mind the way in which
s he had cared for him Gratitude on his part might s erv e to defus e the
battle s he s aw s haping up on the s ubject of that curs ed bottom drawer. She wis hed with all her
heart that s he had nev er opened it. If s he had not s een the letter from the marques s , s he could
hav e believ ed ev ery word that Jack and Philly had s aid to her.
And y ou would be liv ing in a fool' s paradis e once more, s he told hers elf. You decided y ou
weren' t going down that path again. You wanted opennes s and hones ty . Perhaps it' s time for y ou
to be hones t with him.
"Jack," s he s aid aloud, "it' s true that I didn' t do more than glance ins ide the ledger and then flip
through the other book y ou keep about the crops y ou grow. This was jus t after I returned from
W ilmington, and I was hurt and angry and frightened by what I had s een there. I thought there
might be s omething in y our papers to tell me who Philly was and whether or not Jus tin was y our
s on."
"I s ee." Jack' s mouth was a thinly compres s ed line of controlled rage. "Is pry ing into other
people' s priv ate affairs a common practice in the time from which y ou come?"
"I' m afraid it is ," s he replied, thinking of s upermarket tabloids and the popularity of tell-all
telev is ion talk s hows . "But I know better than to do s omething like that. My only ex cus e is that I
was n' t thinking clearly ."
" W hat did y ou dis cov er?" He rapped out the ques tion s o coldly and his face was s o s et and hard
that Clary felt a s mall thrill of fear. Still, s he ans wered him hones tly .

"I found a letter from the Marques s of Hunts ley . I couldn' t decipher all of it becaus e his
handwriting was s o atrocious , but I could tell he was furious with y ou. W hat he s aid indicated that
Philly was y our mis tres s ." Clary s topped becaus e Jack was glaring at her with s uch blaz ing
outrage in his ey es that s he began to be s erious ly afraid of what he might do.
"Did it ev er occur to y ou," he ground out, "that this s ecret y ou are s o determined to uncov er could
des troy the liv es of innocent people if it were rev ealed?"
"I nev er thought of that."
"Perhaps y ou s hould think more often in the future." His v oice was deadly cold.
"Ros e s ay s I too often act impuls iv ely on important matters ," s he s aid, "and without cons idering
the cons equences ."
"That is certainly the cas e in this ins tance."
"I' m s orry . I hav e nev er s poken about what I found in that letter, not ev en to Philly when we
talked."
"If y ou ev er s ay a word of this to Philly ," he grated, "by God, I will beat y ou!"
"No one hits me!" s he ex claimed. "No one! If y ou lay one hand on me in anger, Jack Martin, I will
leav e y ou and y ou will nev er s ee me again."
"You hav e no idea of the s erious nes s of y our interference." They were by now at the farm. Jack
pulled the cart to a s top in front of the barn, and Clary s aw Mos es coming toward them to take the
hors e and to help unload the packages . Jack caught her chin s o s he could not turn
her face away from his furious gaz e. "As y our hus band, I order y ou not to s peak one word about
this matter to any one. Do not ques tion me about it again. And do not, under any circums tances ,
open the bottom drawer. Do y ou unders tand me, Clary ?" he thundered.
' W ho do y ou think y ou are?" s he s narled at him. "Bluebeard? Do y ou know the s tory , Jack?
' Don' t us e this one key . Nev er open this particular door.' W e know what happened to Bluebeard' s
wife when s he dis obey ed, don' t we?"
' Unlike Bluebeard," he s aid in a gentler v oice, "I hav e only one wife, s o I hav e not killed the
woman I lov e--y et."
She pulled away from him and got out of the cart without as s is tance, though Mos es was s tanding
bes ide it.
' I mean what I s ay , Clary ," Jack told her. "My tolerance is at an end."
"Fine! Keep y our damned s ecrets ." She s pun around, her s kirts s wirling, and ran for the hous e.
Once in her own room s he s lammed the connecting door s hut s o hard that Jack mus t hav e heard
it out in the barn.
No s ooner had Clary pulled off her new cloak and her bonnet than Jack and Mos es appeared with
the packages s he had purchas ed in town.
"Jus t put them down there in the corner," Clary ins tructed. "I' ll s ort them out later." She noticed
Jack' s quick glance at the clos ed door to his room, but he s aid nothing about it.

"Sarah left y our ev ening meal in the kitchen," Mos es s aid. "And there' s enough cooked food in
the pantry for tomorrow."
"Thank y ou." Clary res ponded with a s omewhat-forced s mile s o Mos es would know s he was n' t
angry with him. "I forgot that it' s Saturday night."
"I better s ee to the hors es ," Mos es s aid, leav ing.
"I' ll come with y ou." Jack followed him out of the room.
Left to hers elf with no one upon whom to v ent her frus tration, Clary s tood wondering what to do
nex t. She was not in any mood to deal with the pile of Chris tmas pres ents , nor was s he hungry
enough to do any thing about an ev ening meal.
"I think it' s time for the traditional Saturday -night bath," s he muttered to hers elf. "May be afterward
I' ll be able to think more clearly ."
In the kitchen s he found the kettle of hot water on the cooks tov e, where Sarah alway s left it.
Pouring the water into a bucket, s he carried it to the bathing s tall. The weather was almos t too
cold to us e the s tall. Jack had told her there was a large tub that could be mov ed into the warm
kitchen for baths during the winter, but Clary was n' t ready to giv e up the priv acy , or the freedom
to s plas h water around careles s ly , that the outs ide s tall allowed. After pumping a s econd bucket
of cold water for rins ing, s he hung her clothes on the hook and then entered the s tall She was hed
quickly , s hiv ering a bit, and it took
s ome nerv e to rins e off the s oaps uds with the cold water.
She was twis ting her hair ov er one s houlder to wring out the ex ces s water when Jack appeared.
He was completely naked and he looked remarkably grim.
"I' ll be finis hed in jus t a minute." Clary reached for the towel he was holding.
"Let me." He s pread out the towel, holding it in both hands . Thinking that he was going to wrap it
around her, Clary did not protes t when he reached toward her. An ins tant later the towel was
doubled up acros s her back and s he was pus hed hard agains t the brick wall.
"Jack, what are y ou doing?"
"Making certain that y ou know who I am," he s aid.
He came agains t her, holding her where s he was with the full length of his s trong body . He did
not hurt her and the towel prov ided s ufficient padding to keep the unev en bricks from bruis ing her
back, but Clary could not mov e. She pus hed agains t Jack' s s houlders and then agains t his upper
arms , but to no av ail. He s tay ed where he was .
He kis s ed her hard, ins is tently demanding her res pons e until s he unlocked her tightly clenched
teeth and gav e his tongue acces s to her mouth. The familiar s troking heat was irres is tible. Nor
could s he ignore the s tiff erection trapped between their bodies . After weeks of pleas urable
lov emaking with Jack s he was ex quis itely atuned to his needs and accus tomed to hav ing

all her own des ires fulfilled by him. Not ev en his outraged anger could s tifle the s ens ual urge
that s o eas ily flared between them. In fact, that v iolent emotion only intens ified her us ual
reactions to him. Jack' s s kin pres s ing s o aggres s iv ely agains t hers was more than s he could
bear. W hen her arms went around his neck and s he was no longer fighting him, Jack loos ened
his tight hold on her enough to allow one of his hands to s lide down between them.
Clary leaned her head back agains t the brick, try ing to s ee his face, but it was too dark. She could
hear his quick breath and s mell his familiar s cent. She could feel his hand as he guided hims elf
to the heated s pot between her thighs . His hand s kimmed quickly ov er her hips , then along her
thigh, lifting her leg, pulling it upward. W ith a choked cry s he gav e hers elf ov er to him.
"Ah, Clary ." He held her s o tightly that s he could not mov e; s he could only s tand trembling on
one foot, leaning back agains t the wall, accepting what he was doing to her. Alway s before he had
been gentle with her, ev en during their mos t intens ely pas s ionate moments . Tonight s he could
feel his anger in his ev ery rough s troke into her y ielding body . He was hard, tough, boiling ov er
with rage and des ire--and with a particular fear. "Clary , don' t leav e me. I need y ou. Stay with me.
Stay with me!"
He went rigid, s huddering with the approach of his climax . In that moment Clary found his mouth
and kis s ed him, lov ing him, needing to reas s ure him that s he was his and alway s would
be. A moment later, much too s oon for her, he withdrew from her and leaned agains t the wall
bes ide her, his arms at his s ides , breathing in deep, gas ping breaths .
"Jack, my darling." She put her arms around his wais t and her head on his ches t. Slowly he
embraced her. They s tood locked together in the winter darknes s until Clary began to s hiv er.
"Come." He led her out of the bathing s tall.
"My clothes ," Clary protes ted, s hiv ering more v iolently .
"Here." He thrus t them into her hands , along with the damp towel and his own garments . Then he
s wung her up into his arms and carried her to the hous e, walking naked through the chill
December night.
In his bedroom he took the clothes from her and tos s ed them as ide, then tucked her into his bed
and got in bes ide her. She was by then thoroughly chilled and s o s he went eagerly into his arms
to let him warm her, but s he had the oddes t s ens ation that s he was the one who was warming
him and that it was not his body that was cold, but his s oul, and the cold was for him a cons tant,
aching pain.
W hen, a s hort time later, their embrace turned warmer s till, s he opened her thighs and her heart.
He came into her gently this time, s oftly and tenderly , all the anger between them left outdoors in
the bathing s tall. And this time he s tay ed with her until s he s obbed her s weet releas e, and when
he was finis hed, too, he s moothed her hair and kis s ed her

face and told her repeatedly that he lov ed her.
"I can' t s tand fighting with y ou," s he murmured, s nuggling agains t him. "Not ev en when the
making up is s o lov ely ."
"Then let us s top quarreling. Clary , y ou mus t ceas e this eternal ques tioning of my pas t. I do not
continually worry at y our s ecrets to uncov er them." "Mine?" s he cried. "W hat s ecrets do I hav e?"
"You hav e nev er told me the full s tory of y our hus band' s infidelity ."
"I don' t want to talk about that," s he cried. "It was s o long ago, s o far away . W hat does it matter
now?"
"Perhaps I feel the s ame way about the ev ents in my life about which y ou are s o curious ." W hen
Clary did not ans wer, he went on. "So, my lov e, both of us hav e areas of our liv es into which we
do not want others poking--not ev en thos e we lov e. Perhaps es pecially thos e we lov e." "I hadn' t
thought of it that way ," s he admitted.
"Think of it now," he s aid. "Think hard and long becaus e, I warn y ou, if y ou pers is t in the way y ou
hav e been going, y ou will des troy our happines s and our future together. Let us hav e an end to
this cons tant bickering and to y our curios ity ." "Perhaps y ou are right."
"I know I am right. Shall we make a bargain? I will not demand to know y our s ecret if y ou will
refrain from as king about mine." She held on to him, ly ing there in his bed with the quilts warm
around them, and s he thought about how much s he lov ed him and how the character he rev ealed
to her in his ev ery day behav ior was abov e reproach. His honor meant s o much to him, he was
s uch a good and true man, that whatev er the my s tery of his pas t might be it could be nothing
v ery terrible. "Clary ?" His arms tightened around her as if he feared s he would take flight.
"You jus t told me to think long and hard," s he whis pered. "That' s what I am doing."
"And?"
"I will agree to y our bargain becaus e I lov e y ou and becaus e, much as I hate to admit it, y ou are
right. No more ques tions , Jack. W e will liv e hones tly day to day and try to make each other
happy ." "You do make me happy ." His mouth was on her throat. "W ithout y our lov e, my life
would be a des olate place. Nev er leav e me, Clary , and nev er take y our lov e from me, for if y ou
did, my heart would break from lonelines s ."

Chapter Twenty -one
W ith jus t two weeks left before Chris tmas , Clary and Sarah plunged into holiday preparations .
They were by now us ed to working together and Clary ' s hous ehold s kills were greatly improv ed
s ince her firs t day s at the farm. They baked fruitcake, made pies with Sarah' s homemade mince
meat--which was liberally laced with whis key as a pres erv ativ e--and finis hed the las t of the
pres erv ing and pickling. Then they cleaned the hous e, giv ing s pecial attention to Clary ' s room,
which would become the gues t room during Philly ' s s tay at Afon Farm. Luke s et up a s mall
trundle bed for Jus tin to s leep on, while Clary dus ted the furniture and mopped the floor and
Sarah made up the beds with fres hly ironed s heets and the s pare quilts from the blanket ches t.
W ith the cleaning finis hed, it was time to decorate. Jack, Luke, and Clary hiked into
the nearby woods to gather long-needled pine, holly bright with red berries , pine cones , and wild
nuts .
"I want to cut down a tree," Clary ins is ted. "W e' ll put it in the parlor."
W hen Jack and Luke both looked at her as if s he had taken leav e of her wits , s he ex plained the
tradition of a Chris tmas tree as if it were a cus tom confined to her own family .
"There is more to it than that," Jack s aid in a low v oice, while Luke tramped about looking for a
tree matching Clary ' s s pecifications .
"In the twentieth century , it' s a big part of the holiday celebration," s he s aid. "Then y ou s hall
hav e what y ou want." "Thank y ou. Jack, y ou are s o good to me." "Jus t remember this when I as k
s omething of y ou." The kis s he planted on her ready lips clearly indicated to Clary what his
pay ment for the tree would be.
"I nev er heard of s uch a thing," Sarah protes ted when they dragged the chos en tree into the
parlor and s et it in a bucket of wet s and. "It' ll only drop all its needles and make a mes s for us to
clean up afterward."
"That' s part of the holiday tradition in my family ," Clary s aid, winking at Jack. "Now we hav e to
decorate it."
She us ed dried gras s es and milkweed pods . Luke brought her a long v ine that was cov ered with
purple berries , and this s he draped around the tree like a garland. Becaus e there was no fancy
holiday paper av ailable, Clary was

planning to wrap the pres ents s he had bought in plain white paper. She had purchas ed a large
roll of it in Bohemia Village. In the s hop owned by the s eams tres s who had made her wedding
dres s , Clary had bought a s pool of narrow red ribbon to tie up the packages . The leftov er s craps
of paper and ribbon s he fas hioned into tree ornaments , teaching Luke how to cut out s nowflakes ,
which they attached to the tree with red ribbon. A white paper s tar topped the tree. W hen s he was
finis hed, Clary wrapped a s heet around the bucket holding the tree, and on the s heet s he s et out
the pres ents .
She and Sarah laid pine and holly branches on the parlor and dining room mantels , tucking pine
cones in at s trategic s pots . Clary hung red-ribboned s wags of greens on the front and back doors .
A bowl of greens dotted with tiny red ribbons s at on the dining room table, flanked by the s ilv er
candelabra holding long white tapers . As a finis hing touch Clary put a s mall bowl of fragrant
greens in the gues t room.
"It does look nice," Sarah s aid, agreeing with Clary ' s admiring ex clamations . "Mis ter Jack nev er
bothered much with Chris tmas , though I can tell he' s pleas ed by what y ou' v e done. But come
January , y ou and I are goin' to hav e one heav y cleanin' to do."
Philly and Jus tin arriv ed two day s before Chris tmas , trav eling on Captain Peter Schy ler' s s loop,
s ince Sam was pres ently in Philadelphia on y et another trip and was not ex pected in
Bohemia Village until Chris tmas Day . Jack and Clary drov e into town to meet their gues ts .
"I am v ery glad to s ee y ou again, Mis s Cummings ," s aid Captain Schy ler. "I hav e often wondered
how y ou fared s ince our las t parting."
"It is Mrs . Martin now," Clary s aid. "I recently married Jack."
"Did y ou?" Captain Schy ler s hook Jack' s hand. "Sir, y ou hav e found y ours elf a mos t enterpris ing
lady . You ought to enjoy an interes ting life with her."
"I ex pect to, and I look forward to it," Jack replied.
"Is it too late for a fond acquaintance to kis s the new bride?" the captain as ked. Hav ing obtained
Jack' s permis s ion, he bent to kis s Clary on the cheek.
"I hope y ou' v e told him all about that trip to W ilmington," he whis pered in her ear.
"It was becaus e of Jack that I went there, and he does know about it," Clary res ponded. In a
louder v oice, s he added, "Captain Schy ler, if y ou are ev er in Bohemia Village for more than a day
or two, y ou are mos t welcome at Afon Farm. You were good to me at a time when I was unhappy ,
and I won' t forget it."
"He is a v ery nice man," Philly remarked when Captain Schy ler left them to return to his duties .
"He s howed Jus tin all ov er the s hip and ev en let him hold the wheel for a time. One would not
ex pect to dis cov er a s eaman who is s o well bred."

" W hat, Philly !" Jack ex claimed in pretended as tonis hment. "Are y ou by any chance v oicing
approv al of a man who is in trade?"
"He is a v ery s uperior s ort of trades man," s aid Philly , blus hing a little.
"And a v ery wealthy one," Jack added.
"Indeed?" Philly cas t a s peculativ e gaz e upon Captain Schy ler' s trim s chooner.
It s nowed that night, s o in the morning Clary took Jus tin out to build a s nowman and to s how him
how to throw s nowballs . W hen they became chilled and their hands were red and raw, they
retired to the kitchen to drink warm cider and eat Sarah' s fres hly baked s ugar cookies .
"How v igorous y ou are," Philly s aid when s he, Jack, and Clary were s itting in the parlor and
Jus tin was napping in the gues t room. "Clary , ought y ou to be running about while y ou are in
s uch a delicate condition?"
"I am far from delicate," Clary protes ted. "I hav e nev er felt s o well."
"You are fortunate." Philly s ent a glance Jack' s ' way , and her cheeks turned bright pink. "I was ,
ill ev ery day before Jus tin was born. Morning s icknes s added to s eas icknes s . It was a mos t '
unpleas ant time."
"I am s orry to hear that." Clary res ponded s y mpathetically . Jack was looking hard at her She
s miled and s hook her head, determined no to as k ques tions that would v iolate the promis e!) they
had made to each other not to pry into their res pectiv e pas t liv es .
For all the warm affection between brother and s is ter, Philly was openly nerv ous and Clary
thought s he knew why . Philly was afraid s he would s lip and rev eal too much, as s he had jus t
done with her remark about s uffering from s ea-s iknes s as well as hav ing morning s icknes s , for
now Clary knew that Philly had been pregnant during the cros s ing to the United States .
Jack had giv en his employ ees Chris tmas Ev e and Chris tmas Day off from work, s o Clary and
Philly did the cooking, though much of the preparation was done beforehand.
"Miz Clary ," Sarah warned on the morning of Chris tmas Ev e day , "pleas e don' t let Miz Philly burn
down my kitchen. That woman don' t know a thing about cookin' ."
"I will confine her to s licing, placing food on platters , and carry ing things to the dining room,"
Clary promis ed.
"She' ll probably s lice off her fingers ," Sarah predicted.
No s uch catas trophe occurred, in part becaus e Philly fluttered about the kitchen try ing to help, but
nev er actually accomplis hed any thing.
"I hav e alway s depended upon s erv ants ," s he s aid. "I hav e nev er learned to be practical. I env y
our s kill, Clary ."
The ham Clary baked for Chris tmas Ev e dinner prov ed to be delicious , as were the candied
s weet potatoes , the corn bread, all the pickles and relis hes , the fancy cookies , pies , and cakes .
After dinner they opened their pres ents becaus e Jus tin ins is ted with all the ferocity of an

ov erex cited s ix y ear old that he could not be ex pected to s leep that night if he had to wait until
Chris tmas Day , and he therefore intended to keep the grownups awake all night with his weeping.
" W hat a little mons ter y ou are," Jack s aid affectionately , handing him a package. "This is from
Clary ."
It was a book, which Clary promis ed to read to him as s oon as pos s ible. She als o gav e him a
wooden wagon and three brightly painted wooden s oldiers to ride in it. "Tell me, Jus tin," Jack
s aid, "did y ou like the pony I let y ou ride earlier today while the women were preparing that
wonderful feas t for us ?" W hen Jus tin nodded enthus ias tically , Jack went on. "Then I think y ou
mus t hav e it for y our v ery own. W e mus t prev ail upon y our mother to allow y ou to v is it Afon Farm
more often s o y ou will be able to ride him." "I can hav e Brownie?" Jus tin' s ey es were wide.
"He is all y ours ," Jack replied.
"Mama, a pony !"
"Yes , dear, I heard." Philly turned upon her brother ey es almos t as wide as Jus tin' s . "Jack, are
y ou quite s ure it is s afe for him to ride? I do not want him to be injured." "You cannot coddle him
forev er, Philly . He' s not a baby any more. Bring him back to the farm in the s pring and let him
s pend a few day s in the s uns hine and fres h air." "If y ou would like," Clary added, "You could
leav e him here for a week or two."
" W e' ll turn him into a farmer," Jack threatened, laughing at Philly ' s ex pres s ion of horror at this
idea.
"My s on will be a gentleman," s he ins is ted.
"Like y our brother?" Jack as ked, s till teas ing.
"Yes !" Philly ' s v oice was unex pectedly fierce. "You are the fines t gentleman I know."
" W e can als o hope that Jus tin will res emble the gentleman his father undoubtedly was ," Clary
s aid, ruffling the boy ' s hair. "Nev er!" The cry s eemed wrenched from Philly ' s deepes t heart. "Do
not s ay s uch a thing. My s on will be nothing like his father." Philly burs t into tears . "I' m s orry . I
didn' t mean to ups et y ou." Clary was n' t able to finis h her apology becaus e Philly rus hed out of
the parlor. "Jack, what hav e I done? Should I go to her?" "It is not y our fault," he s aid. "Stay with
Jus tin. I will s ee to Philly ." He followed his s is ter out of the room. "Mama' s s ad," Jus tin s aid.
"I know, dear." Clary put an arm around the boy , wondering how words intended as a compliment
could hav e produced s uch an effect, wondering, too, and not for the firs t time, why Philly nev er
mentioned her late hus band. "Mama cries s ometimes ," Jus tin remarked.
"Does s he?" Clary hugged him abs entmindedly , her thoughts on Philly and Jack. For all her good
intentions and her determination to do as Jack wanted, the pas t cons tantly intruded on the
pres ent.

"She cries when Uncle Jack goes away ," Jus tin informed Clary . "Ev ery time."
"I s uppos e s he mis s es him. I know how much I mis s him when he leav es the farm." She s at with
her arm around Jus tin until Jack returned to the parlor.
"Philly is was hing her face," he reported. "She s ay s s he is s orry s he caus ed s uch a fus s and
as ks that we not reopen the s ubject."
"Jus tin," Clary s aid, "perhaps y ou will pick up that large flat box from under the tree. W hen y our
mother comes back, y ou may giv e it to her. It is a s urpris e from me."
Thus , when Philly s tepped into the parlor a few minutes later, s he was met by the s ight of her s on
attempting to balance a box far too large for his s mall arms to encircle. The ens uing laughter
reliev ed any embarras s ment between the two women.
Later, when they were alone in his bedroom, Jack put his arms around Clary to whis per his
appreciation of her tactful handling of the incident. Then he gav e her his gift, a necklace and
brooch to match the s apphire-and-diamond earrings that were his wedding pres ent to her.
"Oh, my ." Clary let the s tones s lide through her fingers . "It' s gorgeous . I hav e nev er owned
any thing like this ."
"Like the earrings , thes e belonged to my mother," he s aid, ans wering the ques tion s he had
carefully left unas ked. "She gav e them to me s hortly before s he died, s o I would hav e them to
pres ent to my bride when the time came."
"I will treas ure them becaus e y ou gav e them to me and becaus e they once were hers ," Clary
s aid.
" W ear them tonight," he urged, mis chief ov ercoming s erious nes s . "I hav e long imagined y ou
wearing thos e s apphires and nothing els e."
"An intriguing notion." As alway s s he warmed to the s ens ual light in his ey es and to his humor.
"Howev er, in y our charming fantas y , y ou hav e ov erlooked one s mall detail. W here s hall I place
the brooch?"
" W hile I can think of s ev eral interes ting locations for the piece," he s aid, cons idering the
ques tion in mock s olemnity , "for the s ake of my pers onal s afety , I would s ugges t that on this
occas ion y ou place it in the hair upon y our lov ely head."
And s o Clary went to bed that night clothed only in s apphire-and-diamond earrings and necklace,
with the brooch glittering among her dark curls . Jack, otherwis e quite naked, ins is ted on matching
his wife' s jeweled formality by donning the fine s ilk crav at that was one of her gifts to him. They
made lov e with much laughter, which they tried to muffle under the quilts s o Philly would not hear
them in the nex t room. They als o tried not to make the ropes that held the mattres s creak too
loudly . In this attempt they were not altogether s ucces s ful, though Clary v oiced no complaints
about any other as pect of Jack' s Chris tmas Ev e entertainment. Nor did s he object to the encore
with which he delighted her s hortly before dawn on Chris tmas Day .

Chapter Twenty -two
Three day s after Chris tmas , while Philly and Jus tin were s till at the farm, an unex pected v is itor
arriv ed. Benjamin W ilmot was in his late fifties , gray haired, rotund, and obv ious ly s uffering from
the effects of his cold ride. Clary had nev er met him before but s he knew that he liv ed in
Philadelphia, where Jack often dealt with him on canal bus ines s .
"Mr. W ilmot, I am s urpris ed to s ee y ou here. Jack pulled the front door wide to admit the
s hiv ering man. "Ah, here comes Mos es , who mus t hav e s een y ou ride in. He will take y our hors e
to the barn and s ee it well cared for during y our s tay with us ."
"Come into the parlor," Clary urged Mr W ilmot, leading him and Jack into the room where Philly
was s itting. "Let me prepare a glas s of whis key or rum with hot water in it. I hav e the water
handy , hav ing jus t brought
it from the kitchen s o I could make a hot drink for my hus band before our midday meal. Perhaps
y ou would care to join us when we eat?"
"A hot rum toddy would be mos t appreciated on s uch a bitter day . As to the meal, I thank y ou,
madam, and accept mos t gratefully ." Mr. W ilmot rubbed his hands together, holding them toward
the fire. He s poke to Jack. "Sir, I had hoped to find y ou in W ilmington for the holiday , but y our
butler Gilbert informed me that y ou were here at the farm, s o I took leav e to s eek y ou out at
home."
"Here y ou are." Clary handed him a mug filled with rum and hot water with a das h of fres hly
grated nutmeg on top. "This will help to warm y ou. Mr. W ilmot, y ou look terribly s erious . Nothing
has happened to the Clary Ros e, has it? Is Sam all right?"
"Clary , if y ou will but giv e Mr. W ilmot a chance, I believ e he will ex plain to us why he is here,"
Jack s aid.
" W hen I dis embarked from the Clary Ros e this morning, Mr. MacKenz ie was planning to s pend
the res t of the day at the tav ern in Bohemia Village," Mr. W ilmot told Clary . "His s hip is s afely
anchored in Back Creek.
"Now, s ir," he went on, turning to Jack, "this is , as y our wife has noted, a mos t s olemn occas ion.
Sir, I hav e the melancholy duty of informing y ou that y our father, the Marques s of Hunts ley , has
died."

Philly made a s tartled s ound at this announcement and looked as if s he wanted to s ay
s omething, but Jack s ilenced her with a ges ture.
"I am v ery s orry to hear this ," Jack s aid to Mr. W ilmot. "May I as k how y ou receiv ed the news ?"
"In my capacity as the late marques s ' s agent in the United States , I receiv ed formal notification
from y our family s olicitor in London. The letter to me accompanied this packet. Both items were
brought to Philadelphia on a s hip that arriv ed there on Chris tmas Day ." He held out a packet that
looked to Clary like a thick letter s ealed with red wax . "I thought y ou would want to know as s oon
as pos s ible," Mr. W ilmot s aid.
"Then W illiam has s ucceeded to the title." Jack took the packet. "W hile I am mos t appreciativ e of
y our cons ideration toward me, Mr. W ilmot, it was s carcely neces s ary for y ou to trav el s o far
during the holiday s eas on. You could hav e written to me and s ent this packet with y our letter."
"No, s ir, I could not. According to the letter I
receiv ed, y ou are the heir to the marques s ate."
"Oh, no!" Philly cried, her hands fly ing to her
s uddenly pale face. She looked as if s he might
faint.
"There has been s ome mis take." Jack was openly horrified by Mr. W ilmot' s words . "W illiam has
been married for more than s ev en y ears . Surely by now he and Lady Chas tity hav e s ev eral
children to their name who will inherit in time, and W illiam hims elf is y oung
and healthy . So y ou s ee, I cannot pos s ibly be the heir."
"Sir, I can only tell y ou what was in the letter s ent to me. You will, of cours e, wis h to read y our
own letter in priv ate." He s tarted to leav e the room. Clary would hav e followed him out, but Jack
s topped them.
"Mr. W ilmot, I mus t as k y ou to remain. And y ou, too, Clary . Don' t leav e me now, my dear."
Clary s aw naked need in his ey es , along with a s trange glimmer of fear. It was unlike Jack to be
afraid of any thing. W ith her heart beating hard, s he s at down on the s ettee nex t to Philly .
"Oh, Jack," Philly cried, "what s hall we do? This new life we hav e made for ours elv es and for
Jus tin will fall into ruin now."
"I do not think s o, Philly , which is why I want Mr. W ilmot to s tay while I read the letter from
Hunts ley ' s s olicitor."
Clary watched her hus band break the s eal and unfold the letter with hands that s hook for a
moment. It was not an unnatural reaction for a man who had jus t learned of his father' s death, but
Jack did not s eem to be griev ing. Clary thought he was deeply worried, and the glance he s ent
toward Philly , as if to tell his s is ter to buck up and be s trong, conv inced Clary that the moment of
fear s he had s een in him was not for hims elf but for Philly . Clary s aw Philly lift her chin and giv e
Jack a little nod, at which s ignal he lowered his ey es to the letter and began to read aloud.

My lord, it is with the deepes t s orrow that I inform y ou of the recent tragic ev ents in y our family .
Your father, the Marques s of Hunts ley , and y our older brother, Lord W illiam Marty ns on, Vis count
Marty ns on, hav e died as the res ult of an epidemic of diphtheria which has lately been raging
near and at Hunts ley and which has als o killed more than a doz en tenants and s ev eral of the
hous ehold s erv ants .
Your s is ter-in-law, Lady Chas tity , fell ill of the dis eas e and has mis carried as a res ult, though
s he is s lowly recov ering under her mother' s care. As a cons equence of thes e untimely deaths
and the los s of Lord W illiam' s ex pected child, the title of Marques s of Hunts ley has now
dev olv ed upon y ou. My lord, I res pectfully reques t y our return to England at y our earlies t
conv enience, as the finances of the es tate are in s ad condition and will require y our full attention.
There was more, mos tly des criptions of the aforementioned s ad condition of the Hunts ley es tate
and the need to replace los t s taff as s oon as pos s ible.
"Poor Lady Chas tity ," Philly murmured, her ey es upon Jack as they had been during the entire
reading. "I knew her when I was in London. She is a s weet girl. Jack, we cannot continue in this
way any longer."
"Of cours e y ou cannot," Mr. W ilmot s aid to
Jack. "Sir, y ou mus t return to England at once. I will make the arrangements for y ou."
"No," Jack s aid, his ey es on Clary . "I am not returning to England. Not now, not in the future."
"But y ou mus t!" Mr. W ilmot cried. "Sir, y our res pons ibilities --"
"Are ended by that letter," Jack s aid.
"This is outrageous !" Mr. W ilmot looked as if he would ex plode. "As a loy al citiz en of the United
States , I care nothing for foreign titles . But for a man to refus e to take up the duties left to him by
his dead father and brother is uncons cionable."
"If y ou will be patient, I can ex plain." Jack turned from the fuming Mr. W ilmot to Clary . "In order to
pay a debt of gratitude, my s is ter and I hav e practiced a deception upon Mr. W ilmot and upon
y ou, Clary . But y ou, Clary , hav e alway s known that, though not the nature of the deception nor the
reas ons for it."
"It is my unders tanding from letters the late marques s wrote to me," Mr. W ilmot declared, "that
the woman who accompanied y ou to thes e United States is not y our s is ter at all, but y our
mis tres s . I mus t confes s that I am s hocked to find her here in company with y our wife."
"You do her an injus tice, Mr. W ilmot." Striding to the s ettee where s he s till was , Jack put a hand
on Philly ' s s houlder. "This woman is indeed my s is ter and as fine a lady as I hav e ev er known.
Howev er, I am not Jus tin Marty ns on."

"Then who are y ou, in heav en' s name?" Mr. W ilmot took a long s wallow of his rum as if s trong
s pirits would help him to accept what he was hearing. Clary began to wis h that s he had prepared
a s tiff drink for hers elf.
"I was baptiz ed Perciv al Gordon Henry Cad-ell," Jack s aid. "My s is ter, who is known in
W ilmington as the widow Philippa Gordon, is in fact Lady Philippa Augus ta Henrietta Cadell. Our
older brother, s o far as we know, is aliv e and in happy pos s es s ion of his earldom and his lands .
And he, Mr. W ilmot, has three s trong s ons to his name. I am heir to nothing, as y ou s hall hear if
Philly agrees and if y ou care to lis ten."
"Your real name is Perciv al?" Clary as ked.
"Yes , tell them ev ery thing, Jack," Philly cried, s peaking right ov er Clary ' s words . "I am s o weary
of s ubterfuge, and y ou know I am not good at it. I hav e been mos t dreadfully nerv ous ev ery day
of my v is it here. Clary des erv es to know, and I am certain we can trus t Mr. W ilmot' s dis cretion.
He has nev er failed us y et, though I am aware that he does not hold me in v ery high regard,
believ ing me to be y our mis tres s for all our claims to be brother and s is ter."
"Indeed, s ir, I think y ou had better make a thorough ex planation!" Mr. W ilmot declared. In a
quieter v oice he added, "I will admit to a cons iderable pers onal curios ity . To practice and
continue a deception of this magnitude for s o long a time is not only reprehens ible, it is mos t
remarkable. I s hould like to know how y ou did it."
"It was done for my s ake," Philly s aid. Lay ing one hand ov er Jack' s on her s houlder, with her
other hand gras ping Clary ' s fingers and holding on tightly to them, s he continued. "Jack, y ou
hav e borne s o much for me. There is no need for y ou to fabricate y et another tale for my benefit
when I know y ou hate ly ing ev ery bit as much as I do. My dear, s weet brother, I releas e y ou now
from ev ery promis e of s ecrecy I ev er ex tracted from y ou. For y our honor' s s ake, for the s ake of
y our marriage, y ou mus t tell ev ery thing."
"For heav en' s s ake!" Clary cried, ex as perated "Stop beating around the bus h and tell us what
this my s terious ev ery thing is !"
"Indeed," agreed Mr. W ilmot, who had entirely regained his compos ure during Philly ' s s peech.
"Pleas e do, and without further delay ."
"If y ou are s ure?" Jack gav e Philly a hard look until s he nodded, pres s ing her lips together as if
to quell s ome emotional outburs t. Jack' s hand tightened on her s houlder for a moment. "Thank
y ou, Philly . It will be a great relief to tell the truth, es pecially to Clary ."
Mov ing away from the s ettee where his s is ter and Clary were, Jack walked to the fireplace to lean
an arm along the mantel. He looked relax ed while s taring into the fire as if deciding ex actly how
to proceed, but Clary knew him well enough to s ee the tens ion in him.
"Almos t s ev en y ears ago," Jack s aid, s traightening to meet Mr. W ilmot' s ey es , "Lady Philippa
Cadell s pent her firs t s eas on in London. She was a great s ucces s for her beauty and charm,
though

s he was not an heires s . Des pite her s mall dowry , there were s ev eral men who paid their
addres s es to her, among them a notorious , highborn rake who was the s on of a wealthy and
powerful earl. Our older brother Richard believ ed Philly had the chance to make a great match
with this man, s o he allowed the as s ociation.
"One ev ening, at a ball held in a large London hous e, the rake danced with Philly and afterward
lured her into the dark garden. There he proceeded to rav is h her des pite her s truggles and her
pleas . In the proces s , he blackened her ey es and bruis ed and bloodied her body in
unmentionable places .
"My friend, Jus tin Marty ns on, happened to be pres ent at the s ame ball. It was he who dis cov ered
Philly wandering dis traught in the garden with her ball gown torn and bloody . Jus tin got her away
through the garden entrance and took her to his hous e, which was nearby . He then s ent for me
and for Richard. W hen Richard learned of the incident, he was mos t uns y mpathetic to Philly ,
though her dis tres s and her battered phy s ical condition were s adly ev ident." At this point, Jack' s
v oice turned s av agely bitter. "The good earl, my brother Richard, decided his s is ter mus t at once
marry the man who had rav is hed her. The fellow was , after all, the s on of an other earl and in line
for the title. I dis agreed mos t v igorous ly to this plan and Philly refus ed ev er to s ee the man
again, much les s marry him. As a res ult of the quarrel that followed, we parted company
with our brother that night and hav e not s een him s ince."
"Good heav ens , s ir, this is an appalling s tory !" Mr. W ilmot ex claimed.
"Richard being unwilling to do s o becaus e he was s till hoping for a marriage, I challenged the
guilty man at once," Jack s aid. "Jus tin acted as my s econd. W e met at dawn two day s after the
incident at the ball, by which time the s candal was all ov er London."
"You fought a duel?" Clary cried. "My God, Jack!"
"I put a bullet in his heart," Jack s aid, looking right into Clary ' s ey es . "And from what I know of
what he did to Philly , and of all the women he rav is hed before her, and the women he doubtles s
would hav e harmed in the s ame way in the future if he had been allowed to liv e, I cannot s ay that
I regret what I did."
"Oh, God!" Clary s aid again. She put an arm around Philly , who leaned agains t her as if s eeking
courage.
"I believ e dueling is agains t the law in England." Mr. W ilmot did not s eem es pecially s hocked by
this as pect of the s tory . In fact, he looked at Jack with cons iderable admiration. "Under the
circums tances y ou des cribe, no honorable man could fault y ou for what y ou did. W as the duel the
reas on why y ou left England?"
"I did not at firs t intend to leav e. Jus tin helped me to reach a s afe place away from London, and I
took Philly with me, s ince after our quarrel

with Richard s he had nowhere els e to go. No family members and none of her former friends
would receiv e her, and the earl was bent upon v engeance for his s on' s death. W e thought it our
good fortune when, only a day after the duel, Jus tin' s father commanded his immediate pres ence
at Hunts ley Hall and there ordered him to come to America to watch ov er the family ' s financial
interes ts in this country . Jus tin at once decided that Philly and I s hould trav el with him."
" W here is Sir Jus tin now?" as ked Mr. W ilmot.
"I am coming to that. I want to be certain that Clary unders tands the s ituation in which my s is ter
and I found ours elv es . After the attack on Philly , and then when the res ults of the duel became
common knowledge, my s is ter had no hope of a res pectable future or a good marriage in
England. Becaus e of the s candal and our quarrel with him, Richard dis inherited both of us ,
leav ing us penniles s . But Jus tin came to our res cue for a s econd time. He paid our pas s age, and
s o we three and Jus tin' s faithful v alet, Gilbert, boarded a s hip bound for the New W orld."
"Only two of y ou and the s erv ant left that s hip when s he docked in Philadelphia," Mr. W ilmot
s aid. "I mus t as k y ou again, s ir, where Jus tin Marty ns on is ?"
"He contracted a fev er during the v oy age and died of it," Jack s aid. "I hav e in my pos s es s ion his
death certificate, s igned by the captain of our s hip and the s hip' s doctor. If y ou require
further proof, I will giv e y ou the name of the s hip and the captain' s name. He will hav e an entry in
his log for the date in ques tion, for there were more than a doz en s eamen and pas s engers who
fell ill of the s ame fev er and fiv e of them died. I was s ick my s elf for s ev eral day s , though not s o
ill as Jus tin. Philly and Gilbert together nurs ed both of us ."
"By then, Jus tin was almos t like another brother to me," Philly put in.
"And s o y ou as s umed Jus tin Marty ns on' s identity ," Mr. W ilmot s aid to Jack. "Tell me, s ir, is this
why y ou hav e alway s refus ed to accept the income from his pers onal es tate in England and s ent
that money back to the marques s ins tead, calling it profit from the farm?"
"I could not take the money ," Jack s aid. "I already owed Jus tin a debt too great ev er to be repaid
in full."
"For that ges ture alone, I mus t think better of y ou," Mr. W ilmot s aid. "But s till, to take ov er
another man' s life--"
"It was Jus tin' s own idea," Jack s aid, interrupting the other man. "He knew he was dy ing and--
admittedly in the throes of a fev er--he concocted the plan. I was to pos e as Jus tin. Philly could
continue to be my s is ter, s ince no one in America knew Jus tin pers onally or knew that he had no
s is ter. Thus , Philly and I could begin a new life, free from the taint of s candal. By the end of the
v oy age we knew that Philly was carry ing the child of the man who had attacked her, s o we agreed
that s he s hould pos e as a recent widow.

"For my part, I was to fulfill Jus tin' s mis s ion in this country . I promis ed my friend that I would
cultiv ate the land once owned by Jus tin' s uncle, Roger Marty ns on--this farm--and s end to the
marques s as much money as pos s ible from it and from the canal s tocks the marques s had
inherited from Roger. Apparently , the marques s believ ed the canal company was withholding
div idends , though in fact the company has not paid any money to its s hareholders y et. You mus t
admit, Mr. W ilmot, that I hav e faithfully dis charged my promis e to Jus tin."
"Yes , y ou hav e." Mr. W ilmot was thoughtful. "I begin to unders tand many things that hav e
puz z led me about y ou for y ears . This is why y ou as s umed new names immediately upon y our
arriv al and required me to s ee to it that thos e names were legally y ours ."
"Then y ou really are Jack Martin?" Clary as ked her hus band.
"It is what I hav e been telling y ou for months , he res ponded. "Mr. W ilmot, there was nev er any
ques tion of my attempting to as s ume the title of marques s . Jus tin knew his brother and then his
brother' s children would inherit. Als o, the old marques s had s uch an intens e dis like for Jus tin
that my friend believ ed his father would not care if he remained in this country indefinitely . W hich
is why , at almos t the las t moment before leav ing England, Jus tin managed to wres t the title to
this farm from his father in return for a written promis e to remit a large percentage of the y early
profit from it to the marques s for the
res t of the marques s ' s life. Like Jus tin, I think the old man hoped that this plan would keep his
s on permanently out of England. In that at leas t, father and s on were in agreement.
" W hen he knew that he did not hav e long to liv e, Jus tin s aid that he wanted me to hav e the s ame
s ecurity he would hav e enjoy ed, and s o he willed the farm to me. The s hip' s doctor and Jus tin' s
v alet, Gilbert, s erv ed as witnes s es to this will. For obv ious reas ons , I nev er informed the
marques s of the change in owners hip, nor y ou either. I jus t s ent all the money I pos s ibly could to
Jus tin' s father each y ear."
"And made a fine job of it, too," Mr. W ilmot s aid. "W hat an ex traordinary agreement. There can be
no ques tion that y ou hav e more than fulfilled y our part of it."
"You will unders tand why I hav e no des ire to return to England," Jack s aid, looking at Clary . "My
home is here now."
"I can fores ee no reas on why any one would dis pute y our claim to this farm," Mr. W ilmot s aid.
"Good heav ens , s ir, it was a wreck before y ou came here. You are the one who has made this
land productiv e." He paus ed, his ey es meeting Jack' s . After a long, cons idering moment,
Benjamin W ilmot put out his hand.
Thank y ou," Jack s aid s oftly and s hook hands with him, thus s ealing their unwritten agreement to
keep this s trange s tory between thems elv es .
Clary could s ee that Jack was clamping down hard on his emotions , and it s uddenly s truck her

jus t how much the farm meant to him. It was his own piece of the New W orld, s oil that he tilled
and planted and harv es ted with his own hands . He had made the difficult trans ition from idle
aris tocrat to dis inherited y ounger brother to hardworking American entrepreneur. Clary ' s heart
s welled with pride in him and with lov e.
" W e do, howev er, hav e a problem to s olv e," Mr. W ilmot s aid, returning bris kly to bus ines s .
"Some res pons e mus t be made to the London s olicitor' s letters ."
"You are right," Jack s aid. "The debt I owe to Jus tin ex tends to the tenants and the land that
would hav e been his today , had he liv ed. It is my duty to make certain that Jus tin' s heritage
remains in his family ."
" W hat do y ou s ugges t?" as ked Mr. W ilmot.
"Jus tin had a dis tant cous in or two on his father' s s ide of the family . He us ed to joke that if the
main branch of the Marty ns ons s hould ev er die out, there would s till be relativ es aplenty to claim
the title. W hy don' t we inform the s olicitor of the truth of this s ituation? He will then be required
by law to notify the nex t neares t relativ e that he is in line to be the new marques s . It will be a
better s olution all around than jus t ignoring the letters from London and leav ing the s olicitor to
believ e that Jus tin has no interes t in his heritage."
"The truth of the s ituation, s ir? W hat truth would that be?" There was an appreciativ e s parkle in
Benjamin W ilmot' s ey es .
"Before y ou leav e Afon Farm I s hall write a letter to that s olicitor," Jack s aid, "informing him that
Jus tin Marty ns on has unfortunately died of a fev er. I s hall add that he willed his farm to me, his
bes t friend and bus ines s as s ociate. I will be grateful if y ou would reiterate thes e indis putable,
perfectly truthful, facts in y our accompany ing letter to London. Howev er, I s ee no reas on for
either of us to mention the ex act date of Jus tin' s death or my original name."
"Sir, y ou hav e a touch of the s coundrel in y our nature." Benjamin W ilmot s miled, thinking. "But
y our s ugges tion will s erv e the Hunts ley es tate well, and cons idering the dis tance between
Philadelphia and London, I do not think any one acros s the ocean will trouble to probe too deeply
into our account of the way in which y ou acquired the farm."
"This arrangement will get y ou as well as Jack off the hook with the Hunts ley s , Mr. W ilmot," Clary
s aid.
"I beg y our pardon, madam?" Mr. W ilmot s wung around to s tare at her in as tonis hment.
"You will no longer be res pons ible for collecting and trans ferring money from the farm to
England," Clary ex plained. "Now y ou will only hav e to deal with the Englis h s olicitors about the
canal s tocks , and s ince they won' t pay any div idends for at leas t twenty y ears , y ou won' t hav e to
do much work on the Hunts ley account."
"My dear Mrs . Martin, s ince I hold more than a few s hares in the canal company my s elf, I

do sincerely hope you are wrong!" Mr. Wilmot exclaimed.
"She is more likely to be right," Jack said, laughing. "My wife is remarkably insightful about the
future. Clary, my love, have I time to write my letter before we eat? Or shall I wait until afterward?"
"I think it would be best to wait," she said. "I detect a wonderful fragrance wafting this way from the
dining room, which means Sarah is about to call us in to dinner."
When the midday meal was over the men retired to the parlor to write their respective letters to
London. With young Justin off to the barn to tend to his new pony under Luke's supervision, Clary
and Philly were left alone in the dining room.
"Clary, I must know," Philly whispered. "Do you despise me?"
"Because some brute raped you?" Seeing Philly flinch at her use of the blunt word, Clary put her
arms around her sister-in-law. "Of course I don't despise you, and now that I know the truth I
understand why you wanted that whole affair kept secret. But, Philly, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't."
"I thought afterward that it was in part my doing because I accepted his invitation to dance, and I
willingly agreed to go into the garden with him in order to cool ourselves when the dance was
over. I did not know what he intended until it was too late. Before that night I was always
treated kindly by men and so I never expected what he did to me.
"After that night," Philly went on, "I knew that everything had changed, and I would henceforth be
treated only with contempt and derision."
"Considering the time and place where you were living," Clary said, "leaving the country was
probably the smartest thing you could do. Philly, I can't begin to imagine what you must have felt
when you realized that you were carrying that terrible man's child. He was Justin's father, wasn't
he? There wasn't anyone else?"
"Oh, no." Philly gasped. "I could never—the thought of anyone touching me that way—I would
rather die."
"It doesn't have to be painful and terrifying," Clary said. "Not when the man and woman love each
other. I hope someday you will have the chance to learn that for yourself."
"When I see you and Jack together I do begin to believe that not all men are as cruel as that one
wicked person."
"One is the operative word here," Clary said. "Just one man raped you. Think of the good men
who have taken care of you since that night. Philly, what are you going to tell Justin when he asks
about his father? He will, you know. Children are curious about such things."
"He must never be told what happened to me," Philly said. "The knowledge could only hurt him. It
might even destroy him. In spite of everything, I love my son and I do not want him ever to think he
is to blame for any unhappiness I have

suffered. I have decided that when he wants to know who his father was, I shall describe to
him the man for whom he is named and hope that with the older Justin's fine example set
before him, and with Jack to provide guidance as he grows up, my son will prove to be
completely unlike the cruel person who was only accidentally his father.
"Though Justin Martynson did not live long enough to have his own children," Philly added,
"perhaps my son can in some way become the spiritual son of the man who did so much for
Jack and me when there seemed to be no future at all for us."
"This is all very nice," Clary said, "but can you keep up such a deception for a lifetime? You
admit you aren't very good at lying, and I have seen firsthand how nervous pretence makes
you."
"For my son, I will do it." Philly spoke with so much determination in her voice that Clary
could not doubt that she would at least make a good try. "I must ask you, Clary, not to speak
of this again, to me or to Jack, who long ago promised me that he would never discuss the
events that led to our leaving England. I do not want to risk Justin ever overhearing one
single word that might cause him to doubt his parentage."
"Fine. This is your choice," Clary told her. "I don't entirely agree with you, because I think the
truth usually comes out, and almost always at an inconvenient or a dangerous time, but I will
go along with your decision. I have to admit
that I wouldn't want a child of mine to know his father was a rapist. That's a hideous burden
to lay on any child, and it is just the kind of burden a loving mother would take onto her own
shoulders. You know, Philly, in your own way you are every bit as strong and remarkable a
person as your brother."
"Thank you, Clary. I am so glad Jack married you." Philly threw her arms around Clary and
kissed her, but Clary's thoughts had already jumped ahead to imagine Jack's response to
what she would say to him when he and she were at last alone together.

Chapter Twenty-three

Wrapped in her warm cloak Clary stood beside Jack on the gravel drive watching Benjamin
Wilmot ride away toward Bohemia Village on the first leg of his return journey to Philadelphia. He
carried with him the two letters he and Jack had composed that afternoon, which he would send
on from Philadelphia to London.
"There goes the very last trace of the best friend I shall ever have," Jack said on a sigh. "What a
pity. The Martynsons were an ancient and noble family. I hope the younger branch proves as
noteworthy as the older one was."
"Shall we walk?" Clary asked. "I have a few things to say to you and we can be more private here
than in the house."
She linked her arm through Jack's and together they set off across the open field, their boots
crunching through a thin layer of snow, their breath two white clouds in the damp cold. While
Clary was still trying to decide how to begin, Jack spoke, dealing directly with the events of that
day, his thoughts still on his friend.
"Are you sorry not to be a marchioness?" he asked. "Sorry that I am not Justin Martynson after
all?"
"Certainly not. I would far rather be Jack Martin's wife."
"Sweetheart, you cannot know how glad I am to hear you say it. I have worried over that detail
since I first learned that you had read the marquess's letter to Justin."
"You will be even happier when you hear what else I have to say. Jack, I owe you an apology for
the way I continued to nag you and ask leading questions when you kept begging me to desist and
also an apology for snooping among your private papers. It was wrong of me to behave that way. I
should have known that whatever your secret was, it would be an honest one."
"Your past history would hardly lead you to trust any man without substantial proof," he said.
"That's just the point. I did have proof. It was all around me, in what you've done with this farm, in
the way you treat Moses and his family, in your friendship with Sam. Good grief, Jack, even the
way you acted toward the madam of a whorehouse only proved what an honest and decent man
you are! And I was too blind to see it."
"Oh, Clary, I do love you." Jack threw back his head and laughed at her words. "Promise

me that you will never stop speaking so plainly. I find I particularly like the words no marchioness
would ever dream of using."
"And that's another thing," Clary went on. "Ever since that fascinating conversation with Mr.
Wilmot this morning, I have been thinking about the way you moved from one kind of life to
another, protecting your sister all along the way. It must have been a major dislocation for you, to
go from being an English nobleman living in a mansion to a farmer and to actually harvesting and
selling the farm produce yourself. Philly once said something snobbish about people in trade, and
you must have been raised to think the same way. I want you to know how much I admire you for
handling a difficult transition so well."
"My life on Afon Farm does not represent as big a change as you might imagine," Jack replied. "I
have always preferred the country to the city, and when I was a boy, I especially enjoyed market
days in the town near where I grew up. I suspect, if I were the older son and had inherited the
"family title" I might have spent my life very much as I am doing now. I might even have been
involved in building a local canal in England," he finished with a chuckle.
"Tell me about your family," Clary begged, delighted to have him speaking so freely at last.
"You know already about Philly and about our older brother," he said. "I adored my mother, who
died when I was twelve. My father regarded me in much the same way as old Huntsley did
Justin, and with some justification in both cases. I believe Justin would have taken to this life, too,
if he had survived that voyage. He and I were not suited to London society life. We were always
bored with the endless parties and routs—and with all the rules. In short, we were a pair of
youthful troublemakers. If we hadn't sailed to America, we might well have gone to India in search
of adventure and a fortune. Many younger sons do."
"I am glad you came here instead," Clary told him. "I cannot imagine what would have happened
to me if you hadn't been present when I arrived in this time."
"If I were in India, perhaps you would have appeared there," he said, "for I do believe that you and I
were meant to meet and love. I also believe that you will remain in this time."
"So do I." After a minute she added, "I have no desire to return to my old life. I belong here with
you."
"Then," he said, "believing as you do, and in view of the fact that you now know all there is to know
about me, don't you think the time has come for you to reveal your deepest secret to your loving
husband?"
"Jack, I would never for a single minute dream that I know everything there is to know about you,"
Clary said. "Learning to know you is going to take me the rest of my life."
"I feel the same way about you, sweetheart, which is why I need to know the truth."

"What truth?" Clary could not look at him. She was frantically trying to think of a way to avoid
saying what he was going to insist on knowing. She told herself she should have expected
this turn of events.
"About your husband's infidelity," he insisted gently. "I have known since the first time you
spoke of it that you were not telling me the complete story."
"I would rather not talk about it," she murmured.
"You are evading my questions, just as I used to evade yours," he said, "and I am certain
you are doing it with less reason than I had, for there is no one in this time who can be hurt
by what you might say. Clary, surely you know there is nothing you cannot tell me. You are
the one who has always insisted on a marriage based on honesty. Be honest with me now."
She heard the slight crack in his voice that betrayed how important this was to him. Because
she loved him, she felt compelled to do as he asked, to describe the scene that had
shattered her old life.
"It's not a pretty story," she said. "It is the reason why I have always found it difficult to trust
you completely, though I knew from the beginning that you are a very different kind of man
from Rich."
The short December day was ending, and in the gathering twilight, Clary found the courage
to say what might have been too embarrassing to reveal in the bright glare of noon.
"I have already described to you how I found Rich in our bed with a lover."
"A close friend to both of you," Jack added, giving her a verbal nudge when she paused.
"She could not have been a true friend to you if she would lie with your husband."
"Not she. He." It was hard to say those first few words, but once started, the story poured out
of her. "He was a mutual friend, whom we had known for years. He was Rich's best man
when we were married. He visited our house frequently on Sunday afternoons or Monday
evenings to watch the football games with Rich. I even tried to match him up with some of my
unmarried girlfriends. And all the time he and Rich were a pair. And I never guessed.
"In the twentieth century, we are a lot freer about such things than you are in these days, but
even so, I cannot describe the shock I felt when I walked in on them and saw what they were
doing. Within a second or two my entire life shifted so that I saw myself and my marriage
from a new perspective. Incidents and remarks I hadn't understood before suddenly made
sense to me and I realized how stupid I had been."
"Not stupid. Honest and trusting, and your trust was abused. Clary, you should not have been
witness to such a scene." Jack made no move to touch her, apparently understanding that
she needed to stand alone while she finished what she had to say.
"I thought I was going to die. I couldn't breathe, my heart was banging against my rib cage,
and I

couldn't see straight. I don't know how I got to my car or where I drove before I found myself
on the bridge." She stopped, looking up at him through the blue twilight. She was filled with a
sense of surprise and mounting joy. "It is absolutely amazing, Jack, but telling you after
holding all of this inside for so long, I have just realized that it doesn't matter anymore. I can
remember feeling those terrible emotions, but all I feel about that night right now is
indifference. I am cured of caring about Rich and of blaming myself because my marriage
went wrong. All of it happened literally in another lifetime. I guess you could say that, as of
this day, you and I are free of our pasts."
"Of the harmful effects," he said. "Not of the lessons learned."
"I feel lighter," she said.
"I have recently experienced a similar phenomenon. Truth telling does wondrously improve
one's vitality and one's hopes for the future."
She took his hands, standing there in the snow, and when she smiled at him, she saw his
wide smile flash in response.
"I love you, Jack Martin, and I thank God you found me in time," she said. "You saved my life
in more ways than one."
"Sweetheart." He bent his head to kiss her. '"Twas you who found me by driving into the
canal on the most fortunate day of my life."

Epilogue

The combined christening celebration and Fourth of July picnic was a great success. The
best of Sarah's food was set out upon the tables placed on the lawn in front of the house. A
few of the men who had worked with Jack on the canal and who had then chosen to settle
down in the area rather than move on to some other canal project were present with their
families, as were two neighboring landholders, with their wives and children, and several
businessmen from Bohemia Village. Even Benjamin Wilmot and his wife and daughter had
come from Philadelphia. They all spread out across the open field, sitting on chairs or on
blankets spread on the ground, eating and talking while their children ran about chasing
butterflies or taking turns riding on Justin's pony.
Clary sat in the shade beneath a tree with James Gordon Martin, the
three-week-old

guest of honor, sleeping peacefully in his cradle beside her.
"Do not allow yourself to become overtired, Clary," Philly warned, stooping to look at the baby.
"I am completely recovered. Sarah makes a wonderful midwife."
"She has just told me that Jack is planning to hire more employees for the farm and to put Moses
in charge of them."
"That's right. Jack won't have time to help much with the harvest this year," Clary said. "The
ClaryRose has been so successful that he and Sam are talking about buying a second ship,
which means he will have to spend longer hours with the account books. I will be occupied with
Jamie, so I won't be much use in the fields, though I can still help Sarah in the kitchen. And then,
of course, Luke will be leaving in August." Clary looked across the meadow to where Luke and
Justin were leading the other young people in a rather disorganized game with a large ball.
"I know my brother had something to do with Mr. Wilmot offering to arrange a place for Luke at
that school in Philadelphia," Philly remarked.
"Luke has made such rapid progress that I can't teach him anything more," Clary said. "That
young man is bright. He just needs a chance to show what he can do."
"I hope he will make the most of the opportunity Mr. Wilmot is offering." Philly shaded her eyes,
looking toward the road. "Clary, here come more guests. Is that Mr. MacKenzie?"
"Sam!" Clary hurried forward to meet the cart pulling up where the gravel drive divided and one
branch led behind the house to the barn. "Rose! I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
"We dropped anchor in Back Creek earlier this morning." Sam helped his passenger to alight as
he spoke. "Rose wouldn't let me miss this great event." He broke off to shake Jack's hand and
congratulate him on the birth of his son.
"We have, however, missed the baptism itself," Rose snapped, "which is most improper of us."
"Ah, would ye listen to her?" Sam said to Clary. "Wed less than a week, and already she's naggin'
at her poor husband. I tell ye, Clary lass—"
"Married?" Clary asked, interrupting him.
"Aye." Sam's grin nearly split his face in two. "She decided to sail up to Philadelphia with me to
order more furniture for the inn, and just as we arrived she finally agreed to marry me. So I
insisted we do the deed right there in port before she could change her mind. Madam Rose is
now Mrs. Samuel MacKenzie and completely respectable at last."
"How wonderful!" Clary embraced both Rose and Sam.
"Madam Rose?" Philly repeated, looking toward Clary with a puzzled expression.
"It's a long and complicated story," Clary told her sister-in-law. "I will explain it to you when we
have more time."
"We've brought another guest with us," Sam told Jack. "I didn't think you'd mind. He left

Bohemia Village after we did, but he ought to be along soon."
"There is a horseman coming down the road now," Philly said. "Oh, my. Is that Captain
Schyler?"
"He reached Bohemia Village this morning on his northward run," Sam said, "and since he
has to wait for some cargo to arrive, I suggested that he join us."
"He is very welcome." Clary noted the interesting shade of pink that suddenly suffused
Philly's cheeks. "Philly, perhaps you would see that he has something to eat."
When Philly and Jack moved off together to greet this latest guest, Clary turned to the man
still standing beside her.
"All right, Sam," she said, "it's time for you to tell me everything."
"If it's about the weddin' yer askin', better quiz Rose," Sam advised, giving his wife a look of
complete adoration.
"I will later," Clary said. She linked her arm through Sam's to keep him from leaving her
alone with Rose before she was ready to let him go. "At the moment, I have another subject
in mind. I have finally learned about Jack's mysterious past, but I still don't know anything
about your life before I met you. If we are going to be close friends—and we ought to be,
because Rose and I are friends—then I want to know who you really are."
"There isn't much to tell," Sam said evasive

ly-

"Then stop prevaricating and tell it," Rose ordered in a tart voice. "If you do not, I will. Clary
has a right to know your true identity."
"Ah, Rose, how can I resist yer sweet blandishments?" Sam grinned at her, then spoke to
Clary. "I was born Samuel Lachlan MacKenzie, the youngest of five sons in a family of old
Scottish blood, but my parents were far too poor to allow their children to live on inherited
wealth. There wasn't any wealth. Even my oldest brother, the heir to our father's title, was
forced to make his own way in the world from an early age.
"I went to sea for a while," Sam continued. "My last voyage was as a junior officer on a ship
transporting Irish laborers across the Atlantic to work on the canal. I was successful in
putting down a few disputes amongst the men while we were still aboard ship, and after we
reached Philadelphia, I was offered the job of supervising the same men while they dug the
canal. The laborers trusted me, ye see."
"Yes," Clary said, smiling at him, "I do see why men coming to a strange new land would
trust you. I trusted you right away. When did you meet Jack?"
"During my second day at the canal. We took to each other at once."
"That makes sense, too, and your story explains why you called Jack my lord from time to
time. You recognized a fellow nobleman when you met one."

"My friend Jack is a nobleman? My, my," Sam said, a definite twinkle lighting his blue eyes.
"Fancy that! And he never said a word to me!"
An hour later Clary and Jack finally had a chance to speak alone.
"Do you think Philly likes him?" Clary glanced toward where Philly and Captain Schyler sat
on a blanket talking while the captain devoured a plate piled with fried chicken, ham,
biscuits, and assorted other foods.
"I hope so. I know I like Peter Schyler," Jack said. "My dearest wish for Philly is that she will
find a man who will treat her as she deserves to be treated and who will make her happy
again." "What about Rose and Sam? Were you surprised by their marriage?"
"They richly deserve each other. They will be happy." Jack caressed Clary's cheek in a
tender gesture. "So many changes have taken place in all our lives since this day last year."
"Early America was known as a place where people could make over their lives to suit
themselves. We have all done that, haven't we?" Clary said. "You, Sam, Rose, even
Hermione, who manages the inn when Rose is away. Especially me. Now Luke will have his
chance. And perhaps Philly's turn will come soon."
When the baby began to whimper Clary lifted him into her arms. Cuddled against his
mother's bosom, he fell quiet at once. Standing behind Clary, Jack put his arms around both
of them, holding them against his heart while together they watched their family and friends
enjoying
the celebration they had made possible.
"Allow me to inform you, madam," Jack murmured into Clary's ear, "that you are the very
heart and soul of my new life."
"You are mine, too," she responded. "Allow me to tell you, sir, that you found me just in time
—literally. Without you, I had no time left at all. With you, I have eternity."
Their guests politely pretended not to see the kiss Jack and Clary exchanged then—except
for Philly, who blushed and hid her face behind her hands and then glanced with shining
eyes at Peter Schyler's laughing face.