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
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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