Felicity: An American Girl Romance, Chapter 2
She was running in the darkness, blindly pushing through pine branches and tall grasses as she headed for the sounds of cannon fire and yelling men. "Ben!" she cried urgently, "I'm coming for you, wait! Stay where you are!" But even she didn't know where she was. It was so dark! The sounds of battle were always up ahead, yet she saw no light and didn't seem to be any closer to finding Ben than she was a moment before. Her breathing was fast and hard, and she was unbearably warm. The ground felt mushy beneath her feet, hindering her desperate progress.
"Ben where are you?" she screamed, and cold panic seized her. She was so scared that he was injured or worse that she couldn't think.
"Here..." his voice answered quietly, from up ahead. Or was his voice coming from inside her head? She stumbled forward numbly, trying not to cry, trying to will her increasingly heavy feet to move.
Then she stopped abruptly, desperately searching the shadows for the boy she loved. "Ben-where-?"
She saw him suddenly kneeling before her, looking down and clutching his chest. Slowly he looked up at her. With a blank face he said, "I've been shot."
"What? No, Ben, youre fine. There isn't any-" She looked at his chest where his hands were, and then she saw a dark wet spot spreading fast. Horrified, she screamed...
"Lissie! Lissie, wake up!" Nan pushed at her repeatedly. "Stop kicking me!"
Felicity moaned and woke, panting. She sat up, breathing hard and fast, and clutching her chest. She shoved away the covers and just sat there, shaking.
Nan rubbed her eyes and sat up, too. "Lissie," she groaned, "what kind of dream has possessed you?"
Felicity opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She felt too weak to make a sound. It was only when Nan nudged her urgently did she find her voice. "Nightmare," Felicity mumbled wearily.
Nan flopped back down, unwilling to fight her sleepiness. "Well, whatever was chasing you, Lissie, tell it to quit." And then she was gone, her breathing back to a slow, deep pace, leaving Felicity sitting up alone in the dark.
She gulped. The nightmare was still fresh and vivid in her mind. She clutched at her heart, which she was sure must've lept into her throat during the dream, but she was now feeling that it must've broken, for the shock of seeing Ben injured, even in a dream, was a sadness she wasn't prepared to handle.
She swung herself to the side of the bed, rose, and wobbled the few steps it took to get to the window. Her body felt heavy and weary, and she struggled not to cry. She couldn't remember a time when she felt so bad. Placing a hand against the window pane, she gazed out at the barn, where Ben was most likely sleeping away the night in his little room in the loft.
Oh Ben, do you know what I'm feeling? she thought pleadingly. Don't you know how scared I am for you? Can't you see that I-(her lower lip trembled with the effort it took not to cry)-that I LOVE you?
And love him she did. There was no denying it, no wondering, no attempts to explain it away. It was what it was, and it was love. She did not fancy him, for a fancy was a giggly, flirty thing, and love-this love thing-was deep and turbulent and fiery in the depth of her soul. It was wonderfully overwhelming and burdensome at the same time.
It was giving her nightmares!
She turned away, wobbled back to the bed and climbed in, not feeling at all well. Emotionally, her heart ached for the boy who was soon to become a soldier. Physically, she was drained and wearied. Something wasn't right about her, she knew, but it just wasn't enough for her to call attention to. She blamed her nerves.
I am only eleven and I am having nerves, she thought. She pulled the covers up and lay upon her back, staring at the ceiling. I am too young for nerves! But I'm not a child anymore. I'm not! Like Elizabeth said, we are growing up. Which means I AM old enough for nerves. Ben! What have you done to me! Again, there would be no sleep for the rest of the night.
-"Nan, sweet, where's your sister?" Mrs. Merriman asked as she carried in a heaping plate of hot biscuits to place upon the table. Everyone but Felicity had assembled for breakfast.
Nan plopped down in her seat. "Getting dressed. She's in a bit of a mood, probably because she was awake most of the night, having nightmares and all. She kicks in her sleep!"
Ben looked up from his plate. Mr Merriman looked up from the issue of The Virginia Gazette he was reading and said, "Did she kick you, Miss Nan?"
"Aye, Father! She's a fiesty sleeper! When she does sleep, that is."
Mr. Merriman was about to reply to this, when the topic of conversation ambled in herself, looking sleepy but sound. Everyone looked up at her, but she seemed unaware of it as she sat down by the head of the table, where Father sat, and Mother across from her. At the other end of the table, Ben watched her curiously and tried to look casual about it.
"All right this morning, my dear?" Mr. Merriman asked her pleasantly.
"Yes, Father, I'm fine," she replied, straightening her posture. "Better than yesterday, I believe." She added a forced smile for emphasis.
"Nan here says you woke her with nightmares, Lissie," Mrs. Merriman said, with a touch of concern in her voice. "Is something troubling you?"
Oh Mother, if you only knew! If only I could tell you! " Nothing more than concern for the men in our army," she said, trying to sound convincing. 'Twas only a half-truth. "I keep thinking about what Mr. Tate said about soldiers needing uniforms and supplies, men dying from the pox. I wish I could help somehow."
Soldier-talk always sparked Ben's spirit. He swallowed his bite of biscuit and said, "Soldiers are always in need of clothing. Shirts, boots, stockings and such. But even those in desperate need keep on fighting. Our freedom is too important to give up! Those redcoats will see that even with next to nothing we won't back down!"
"Easy, Ben," Mr. Merriman smiled. "Besides taking supplies to the commissary, men have been encouraging their wives to sew clothes for the troops..." He glanced at his wife with a warm smile. "Not that their wives need much encouraging."
"Aye," Mrs. Merriman replied gently, returning her husband's smile. To Felicity she said, "Lissie, do you think it would help ease your mind if I told you I think you are mature enough to join the ladies I'm sewing with? We're making shirts and stockings to send to Virginia's soldiers."
It was the first glimmer of the old Felicity anyone had seen since they'd come home."Oh, Mother, may I? I would love to! I-I know my sewing isn't perfect yet, but I'll do my best, I really will!"
Ben was grinning approvingly. Mrs. Merriman smiled and said, "Lissie, dear, your sewing needn't be perfect, and you have come a long way with your samplers. I believe this will be good for you."
"And the soldiers!" Ben added brightly.
Felicity flashed him an enthusiastic grin, and instantly felt her face grow hot. Her heart fluttered madly and she quickly looked away.
Before anyone else could speak, there was a knocking upon the door. Mr. Merriman looked surprised. "And who could be calling upon us this early?"He looked at his wife. "Whenever you and Rose make fresh biscuits and tarts we always get callers!"
"That's because all of Williamsburg knows Mother and Rose's tarts are the best anywhere!" Nan explained to them all. "People smell them and come a-running!"
Everyone laughed. Rose came in and said to Mr. Merriman, "It's Mr. Haverty to see you, sir. He says he's at his wits' end and must speak with you."
With raised eyebrows and an amused smile, Mr. Merriman rose and laid his paper down. "I suppose I should go see what has the old fellow riled up. Thank you, Rose."
Ben shrugged. "Probably that new horse of his."
Felicity remembered Ben was trying to tell her about it yesterday, just before that odd young man slipped on the steps to the store. "What is it like?"
"I'm not sure-I haven't seen it myself. But the last time Mr. Haverty was in the store he said it was a huge, black muscular thing that he bought for plowing his fields, but the big fella won't take the harness. He turns nasty when Mr. Haverty tries to put it on him."
"I would like to see that horse," Felicity stated, to no one's surprise. "I've never seen any of those really big ones that Grandfather used to talk about. You know, with hair on their hooves and the broad backs."
Nan crinkled her nose. " Big horses are probably mean."
William looked up from his breakfast. "Penny is a big horse and she's nice, Nan." He beamed around at everyone. "But her hoofs do not have hair!"
There was gentle laughter, and Ben said, "Penny is a thoroughbred, Will. Mr. Haverty's horse is another kind of horse."
Mr. Merriman came back in, and with him was a somewhat portly, kind-faced man of about fifty, holding his hat and looking curious. Mr. Haverty nodded to Mrs. Merriman. Mr. Merriman smiled and said to Felicity, "Lissie, Mr. Haverty here has a horse problem he would like to discuss with you." He gestured freely to Haverty, who stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"Good morning, Miss Merriman. I have heard, from a certain Mr. Jiggy Nye, that you have quite a way with independant-minded horses, and I have, as you may have heard, recently come into ownership of such an animal." Upon seeing the girl's bright grin, he smiled himself. "Miss, I am at my wits' end with the brute-which is his name, by the way. Brutus. Big Brutus. He is fine with a bit and saddle, but he absolutely will not let a harness touch him." He sighed with resignation. "Might I ask you... how can I put this? Look at Brutus, maybe...approach him in your own way? See if you can help him, perhaps?"
Felicity knew exactly what it was he was asking her to do. So, despite felling ill, she stood and smoothed her sky-blue skirts. "Mr. Haverty, I would be absolutely happy to assist you with Brutus!" Then hastily she looked at her parents. "With Father and Mother's permission, of course."
Mr. Merriman opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Mr. Haverty blurted, "I would even give payment, Merriman." Like a child pleading his case, he rotated his hat in his hands and looked from Mr. to Mrs. and back. He seemed to be more eager for permisssion than Felicity.
Mrs. Merriman looked at her with concern and asked, "Lissie, do you feel up to this?"
"Aye, Mother, I do," she replied anxiously. "You know nothing occupies my mind like horses!"
"That is for certain!" Ben added with a grin.
Felicity blushed and was unable to hide it.
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Merriman. She looked at her husband. "Edward?"
Mr. Merriman smiled widely. "Very well, then! Mr. Haverty, payment isn't necessary. The joy my daughter recieves from her love of horses is more than payment enough."
"Bless you, Merriman," Haverty breathed (for he had been holding his breath all the while!), "I have long believed an animal responds better to a woman's touch than to a man's... but Ruth, my wife, will not go near Brutus, for fear that the huge beast will trample her dainty feet, and though he is no woman, that quivering lackwit of a son of mine keeps his skinny nose embedded in books..."
"Er," Mrs. Merriman said quickly, "Edgar attends William and Mary, does he not?"
"Aye, ma'am," Haverty replied. "Enjoys it he does. Wants to do office work. Bah! A man can have no more honest a living than working a farm!" He nodded to Felicity. "Shall I see you before noon?"
"That soon?" Felicity asked, happily surprised.
Mr. Haverty nodded vigorously. "Brutus won't help himself!"
"Then I shall see you at noon, Mr. Haverty," Felicity told him positively.
"Excellent, excellent." He turned to Mr. Merriman. "Thank you, Edward, I'm grateful."
Mr. Merriman walked him out. Nan started babbling about how proper gentlewomen do not work with horses (at which Felicity rolled her eyes), and even though Felicity knew her mother agreed, Mrs, Merriman did defend her eldest daughter by explaining to Nan that it was always a good thing to help out one's neighbors.
As she finished her breakfast Felicity thought about her dream. Another restless night. She would have to try harder to hide her wooziness, and didn't expect this night to be any different. And the thought of Ben being killed-her insides had taken to knotting up-put her already dizzy and troubled mind dangerously on the edge of real-life despair. Why did he have to go? Anyone with half their wits could see that chances of returning alive were slim!
And he doesn't even know I...LOVE him! She frowned. The fact and the feeling was still so new to her. I thought love was supposed to make you so happy that you couldn't function properly! Instead I want to cry until I am all dried up like a piece of old fruit and...
"Felicity," Mrs. Merriman said mildly, "you look as if your eggs have done something horrible to offend you. Are you sure you want to go to the Haverty's today?"
Nan and William giggled, but Felicity said quickly, "Absolutely! I'm just...thinking."
"Uh-oh," Ben said teasingly.
She gave him a wry smile and blushed again. Look at you, Ben Davidson, all funny and handsome and knowing nothing about how I feel, how I am nearly at my wits end because of you. I do believe you will be the death of me!
-Big Brutus was a strikingly big horse, all black and shiny from being well-groomed. As black as a night without a moon, he was thick and muscled, with impressive shoulders and a strong-looking back. Felicity's eyes went wide when she saw him. His mane and tail were both thick and long, and indeed tufts of coarse black hair grew out over his big black hooves. He was magnificent!
When Mr. Haverty left her alone with the 'big black bast-er, brute,' as he said, he left her with instructions to do "whatever you see fit to do," and that anything in his barn was at her disposal. Felicity told him that as with her beloved Penny, gaining Brutus's trust and easing fear of the harness would take time. Mr. Haverty merely replied that he didn't care how long it took as long as it could be done. They happily shook hands on the agreement.
She had come with an apple in hand. Inside the corral, the big horse watched her approach with bright black eyes and ears flicked forward. He stood perfectly still and seemed utterly gentle, as Felicity stroked his thick, muscular neck and marveleld at the feel of those hard muscles beneath his shiny black coat.
She watched him munch the apple calmly, amazed at how little chewing needed to be done by those thick jaws to devour it. "You are a marvel, Brutus," she told him admirably. "Ive never seen a horse like you before, and you've probably never seen a girl like me before. But trust me, Brutus, we'll be good friends. I'm going to help you see that harness isn't anything to be afraid of. Why, a big, brave bear like you has no reason to be afraid of anything at all! Let's go for a walk, okay?" The big horse did not object as Felicity took hold of his halter's rope and began to walk him around the large corral. She only did what instinct told her to do-move with the horse, talk to him, gain his trust, and go from there.
After a while she fetched the grooming brush from the barn and discovered that Brutus loved being brushed-his dark eyes closed halfway and his ears remained turned toward Felicity's voice as she told him about loving Ben and feeling as though she were getting sick all the time.
Horses were good listeners.
It was getting on toward late afternoon, and Felicity had spent all day with Brutus. With the corral's aid she had climbed upon his broad back and rode him around the fields outside of Mr. Haverty's farm. Brutus didn't have legs like a thoroughbred, but Felicity was awed beyond words at the power of the rippling muscles beneath her, the sheer power of the creature. Penny was speed and air. Brutus was power and might. His big hooves pounded the ground, and Felicity felt like she was indestuctable, a lady-knight riding into battle, like Joan of Arc, and she longed to be wielding a weapon of some sort.
So she whooped and hollored instead.
Brutus seemed to enjoy the exercise, and his new friend's enthusiasm. He tossed his magnificent black head and pawed at the ground (leaving rutted streaks in the dirt). He was easy to manage, quick to turn and eager to run. He was so strong that Felicity felt like she was a mere fly upon his back. For her, the day ended all too soon.
She was bringing Brutus back to the corral when she saw a familiar face peering at her over the fence. Ben!
"Felicity, hello!" he called cheerfully, and she guided the big fellow over to where Ben stood, looking awe-struck at her atop him. "Wow, Lissie...He's enormous!"
"Aye!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to briskly rub Brutus' neck. "But he's an amazing ride! He's not as fast as Penny, of course, but Ben, he's so powerful!"
"That I can see!" agreed Ben wholeheartedly.
Felicity studied him a moment, noting the light in his soft brown eyes, and felt the butterflies in her gut flutter around and around. "So what brings you by, Mr. Davidson?"
Ben grinned. "Your father sent me to collect you for supper, for one thing, and I just had to see this big fellow for myself for another. I never expected to see you riding him!"
Suddenly Felicity became a little self-conscious, aware that she was sitting astride the horse, and that loosened hair from her ponytail was wafting all about her face. She was flushed in the cheeks and breathing fast. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or non-chalant.
She had never cared before.
She was about to make a comment on Brutus' temperament, when a rather high English voice called out, "And how did such a young beauty tame such a gigantic beast?" Both Ben and Felicity looked around at the voice's source: a short young man dressed in dark purple approached them from the road, hands clasped behind his back, his thin mouth a straight line, hazel eyes locked on Felicity as though gazing at a work of fine art.
Ben glared irritably and Felicity looked confused. "'Tis only a horse," she said, smiling uncertainly. "And he's as gentle as a kitten."
Magnificent...animals even bow to such and angle's touch! Striding past the brooding Ben, who crossed his arms tightly, the young man came right up to the corral fence and thrust his hand out to Felicity."Lord Reginald Maxim Forsythe, at you service, my sweet young lady!"
Lord Reginald Forsythe? 'My sweet lady?' Ben's mouth came open and Felicity's eyebrows went up. But Felicity was polite and smiled, and extended her hand down to 'Lord' Forsythe, who, being short in stature, quickly stepped up on the bottom rung of the corral fence, clasped Felicity's hand, and placed a fast, hard kiss upon it. Ben twitched-instinct told him to slug the fop in the face, but he just gritted his teeth.
"You're an English Lord?" Felicity asked, stunned. That would explain his accent and fine, rich clothing, all right. "But you're so young!"
Forsythe reddened. His angel was impressed! He replied, "Ah, yes, dear one, I am indeed. My beloved Lord Father recently passed away and I inherited both his title and his wealth, the latter of which will be mine officially upon the arrival of my eighteenth birthday in May of the coming year." He still had a hold of Felicity's hand.
"Have you come to Williamsburg to live?" she asked casually, watching Ben glare.
"Not as of yet," Forsythe replied, beaming. "Mama and I have come for a stay with my dear Auntie Lucinda Templeton for a while, as Mama is in mourning...but perhaps I will find a convincing reason to stay." He gave Felicity's hand a squeeze.
Felicity gulped, and suddenly felt very uncomfortable. The young lord's stare was so intense she began to feel like the world was shrinking around her. It was utterly strange.
Ben was fixing to snap. He was struggling to keep still but failed. He reached forward and pulled Felicity's hand away, hastily stating, "'Tis time to get home, Lissie. Your parents are expecting us for dinner." He hoped adding emphasis on the word 'us' would give the fop cause to back off.
He didn't. He merely glanced at Ben, then said to Felicity. "May I assist you down, pretty miss?"
"Well thank you, but I-"
Ben interrupted in a harsh tone. "Felicity's fully capable of dismounting a horse by herself, Forsythe."
"I see. Then perhaps you would allow me the honor of escorting you home, dear Felicity?" He stared intensely at her.
"Well, actually, I-"
Ben interrupted her again. "I was sent by Mr. Merriman to see his daughter home, myself, Forsythe, so if you'll excuse us-"
"Its Lord Forsythe to you, lad..." Forsythe looked Ben up and down with a sneer. "You're Mr. Merriman's apprentice, are you not?" He said the word with distaste, as though to purposely rile Ben, who plainly couldn't be more so.
"Aye, Mr. Forsythe. Proudly, too, I might add."
There was a pause where Felicity wasn't sure what to make of the sudden and fierce tension between the two young men. Why was Ben being spiteful? Lord Forsythe was a stranger-surely Ben didn't think he was a British spy too? Forsythe shrugged, then turned his full attention back to Felicity. "You, pretty Miss, may call me Reggie-all my friends do. I also hope to speak with you again soon, perhaps join me for a cup of tea at my dear Auntie's estate?"
"The Merrimans don't drink tea," Ben answered for her, rudely. "They're patriots. As am I. I suppose you're familiar with the term?"
"Ben!" Felicity exclaimed, sliding gently off of Brutus and smoothing out her skirts. "There is no reason to argue. We'll go now, all right?" To Mr. Forsythe she again smiled and said, "It was nice to meet you officially, Mr. Forsy-er, Reggie, if you like. I'm sure we'll meet again another day."
"You may very well wager upon it, Miss Felicity," Forsythe told her, casting Ben a sly, superior sneer. He tilted his chin up. "Hopefully our next meeting will be without...annoyance."
Bets? thought Ben, glaring. He met Forsythe's cold beady eyes with his own blazing ones, confirming the mutual animosity, as Felicity hurried to exit the corral and get home. Forsythe spun away from Ben haughtily, clasping his hands behind his back and focusing on the angelic red haired girl coming towards them.
"Miss Felicity, you are indeed a vision of lovliness. I beg you to let me call upon you sometime!"
A young man wanted to call upon HER? She was only eleven! What on earth would Father say? She didn't even know this young man, and she certainly didn't think him very handsome at all. There was something odd about him...something tense amd strained and...creepy. And an English Lord? That was way beyond her naive perception of courtship possibilities. Besides, she had just discovered feelings for Ben, and she liked that just fine.
Ben quickly side-stepped around Forsythe and took Felicity by an elbow-she stared at him, bewildered-and growled, "She's only eleven. It would be in your best interest to remember that, Mr. Forsythe. Felicity, we are leaving."
"But Ben-"
"We'll be late if we stay any longer," Ben growled. He marched her away urgently.
"Um, good-day, Mr. Forsythe!" she called back, with a wave.
"Until we meet again, Miss Felicity!" Forsythe replied cheerfully. "For we most assuredly will!" Then he gave the back of Ben's head a nasty look. So, the apprentice wants to be a problem, does he? Forsythe considered this. 'Tis no matter. I will become better acquainted with the Angel, with no obstacle whatsoever. A shopkeeper's apprentice trying to get in MY way? How comical. Obviously the boy knows not who he's meddling with.
If looks could set things on fire, the trees and hedges around them would have been ablaze. Ben looked as though there was a thunderstorm brewing in his eyes. He had been silent since hauling Felicity away from the Haverty barn...and Forsythe.
"Ben, slow down, will you?"
Ben's mouth was a snarl. How dare that fop-doodle follow him from the store to Felicity! Just so he could set his ratty little eyes on her and-ugh!-kiss her hand and suggest that they have tea together and-
"Ben you're hurting me!"
What? Ben stopped, suddenly aware he was indeed gripping her arm too tight. He released her instantly. "Sorry," he mumbled.
Felicity was staring at him curiously. "You look like you could kill an entire British army single-handedly! What did Mr. Forsythe do to make you so angry?"
He gulped. He's trying to take liberties with a girl too young for courting, a girl who just happens to be my... His thoughts were in turmoil. His what? "I don't like the guy, Lissie. Something about him isn't right."
"Let me guess." Felicity began as if rehersing old song lines, "you think he's a spy-"
"No," he interrupted quickly, "he's too quirky to be a spy. He's a Loyalist, yes, but an arrogant, spoiled, creepy... purple dandy!"
Felicity burst out laughing. Hard.
"It's not funny, Lissie." "I know, I know, I'm sorry," she chuckled, holding her stomach. "You just looked so intense when you said purple dandy, I couldn't help it. But that's what I was thinking too, when I first saw him." She sighed, calming down. "But I feel sorry for him."
"You do?" Ben stared at her.
"He probably doesn't have any friends here in Williamsburg, and his father recently passed away. And even though he does seem to be, well...a bit odd, he is Lady Templeton's nephew, and she gets along well with our family. We should be courteous to hers."
"Courteous?" Ben shook his head. "Lissie, he's attempting to court you and you're not even sixteen. Not even fifteen!"
"I saw that," she explained gently. "And I know what age I'm not, thank you, but just because I'm merely eleven doesn't mean I'm a stupid child, Ben Davidson!"
He sighed, frustrated. What was he feeling? Jelousy? Over-protectiveness? Jelously? "I know you're not stupid, Lissie. You're the smartest girl I know. I just...I just don't like his intentions, that's all." Intentions? Where was he going with this?
Felicity looked at him directly. "No way would Father let a boy his age call upon me. Besides, I have no interset in him what so ever. I do, however, have some manners, and I believe in being polite."
Slowly, they started home again.
"He was in the store before I came to get you, you know," Ben said casually. "He probably over heard your father tell me to go fetch you, and then he followed me."
Felicity frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"Because he fancies you." Ben looked away.
That made her feel strange. She'd never been fancied before. Especially by an older boy. But Mr. Forsythe was Ben's age, and she didn't care how old Ben was. She didn't think of Ben as very much older than herself at all. But to be fancied by someone who wasn't Ben? How strange all of this was! Should she be flattered or frightened?
"Oh, surely not," she suggested hopefully.
"Oh, certainly," Ben assured her gruffly. "I believe he came into the store looking for you only, now that he knows you're the shopowner's daughter. He'll probably be coming in all the time now, looking for you and pretending to be looking for something to buy."
Felicity gave him a twisted, sideways smile. "Sounds like someone else I know."
But Ben didn't pick up on it. He was busy brooding and looking extemely bothered. "Stay away from him, Lissie, okay?"
"Why, Ben-"
"Please," he interjected in such an urgent way that Felicity couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for him. "The fellow is bad news. I don't want him near you again. Your father wouldn't like it, either."
Felicty looked understanding and patient. "Okay, Ben, I'll try to. But it was he who came looking for me."
"I know," Ben breathed irritably. "And it's going to stop, I'll see to it."
Felicity grinned. He did care about her! Well, of course he does, he was her friend! But he didn't have to make this his business...he didn't have to pay attention to some boy who fancied his master's daughter if he didn't... oh, could he? Could it be possible that Ben loves me too? She glanced at him, saw the brooding look upon his youthfully handsome face, and felt her butterflies stirring agin. He really didn't like Lord Forsythe. But would he be so hot-headed if he wasn't, maybe, a bit jelous? Was it even possible?
"Are you going to tell Father?"she asked casually.
"Aye, absolutely," he told her quickly. He already knows, Lissie-he knows what the fop wants, but I promised him I wouldn't tell you, and I won't. For your own good...how he's already approached your father about courting you.
"Okay, then."
No argument? He glanced at her. She walked close beside him, and now and then their hands or arms would brush the other's. Ben found that instinct told him to just take her hand (she just seemed to trust him so unquestionably all of a sudden, it was immensely flattering), and he twitched, but didn't.
She was just eleven, he reminded himself. But yet she's growing up so fast and changing so fast that it's almost like...like watching a rose blooming! He bit his bottom lip, thinking. I can't think about things like this right now! I'll be leaving soon!
And then EVERY young man in Williamsburg will be trying to court her! A bell was going off in young Ben Davidson's mind. He clenched his fists in frustration. What in blazes was this he was feeling now?
Later that evening, when everyone was preparing to retire for the night, Ben stepped outside with Mr. Merriman.
"Something's obviously on your mind, lad. What is it?" Mr. Merriman asked curiously, before taking a long pull on his pipe.
"It's that Forsythe fellow, sir." Ben said, lowering his voice as if there were others around. "He followed me from the store today when I went to get Felicity, and not only did he formerly introduce himself to her, he kissed her hand."
"He kissed her hand?" Merriman's eyebrows went up.
"Aye, sir, and he offered to help her down from the horse, Brutus, and walk her home, and asked if she would join him for tea sometime!" He felt like a rotten little tattle-tail...and he was revelling in it.
"He did all of that, did he?"
"Aye, sir! And I believe if you confronted him about it he wouldn't deny any of it!" Ben was very eager to hear what his master's plan of action was.
Mr. Merriman looked thoughtful, one hand in his vest pocket, the other holding the pipe. After one much too-long minute, he asked, "And how did Felicity respond to his behavior?"
"Surprised," Ben replied promptly. "But she's a bright girl, sir, she understood he wishes to court her-and she has no interest in him what so ever." Ben sounded very pleased.
Mr. Merriman nodded. "Well she shouldn't be. She is only eleven. However, she will not be eleven long." He took another long pull on the pipe. "I swear, Ben, sometimes she seems to be wise beyond her years."
"Aye, sir, she sure does." He grinned. "But officially, she is still eleven." Merriman could tell Ben was still waiting to hear what was to be done about Forsythe. He sighed. "Ben, this Forsythe fellow may or may not present himself to be a pest. In the time remaining before your leave, could you, possibly-"
"Keep an eye out for that dandy?" Ben interrupted quickly and eagerly. "Yes sir!"
Mr. Merriman grinned. If not for their father-son relationship, a hot-headed apprentice's interrupting his master would be greatly frowned upon, but seeing Ben's face redden in response to his blurting out like that, the master could not help but feel warm affection for the lad.
"It seems we're thinking alike, Ben," Mr. Merriman told him agreeably. "Thank you for being such a good friend to Felicity." He clapped a hand on Ben's shoulder as he headed back inside. "She's very lucky to have you." He yawned.
Ben gulped. It was an ego-lifting complement, for he felt his spirits rise considerably. There were times when he felt lucky to have Felicity in his life-when he first came to live with her family and didn't have a single friend at all here in Williamsburg, when she shared her secret about Penny with him, when she came to his rescue in the woods after he had run away-aye, he was the lucky one.
As he headed for his room in the loft, all kinds of thoughts rolled around in his head. In his mind's eye he saw red hair and sparkling green eyes, an image that made him feel warm and goofy inside. He felt something he couldn't give a name to, and when he thought of Forsythe, he wanted to hit something for threatening that warm feeling.
Where in tarnation was this intense, burning need to keep that fop-doodle away from Felicity coming from? For the longest time, his attention had been the only boy's attention she'd ever had. And now another boy wanted her attentions. Ben Davidson did not like it. Not one bit.
-Templeton Manor was quiet and dark, all except for one room on the second floor. Flickering firelight danced upon the walls of a richly detailed green and white room. A solitary figure paced back and forth before the wide fireplace, taking sips of a dark red liquor off and on as it did so. Reggie Forsythe was in his private chamber within his dear Auntie's house, contemplating the painting that hung above the mantle of that impressive fireplace. The painting that he had taken great pains to secure on his and his mother's voyage over from Bristol. It was his favorite painting, he'd had it since he had been old enough to speak. Given to him by his beloved governess, whom he considered to be his first love, at only five years of age. Mother had been too busy with her headaches to give him the attention he desired. But Miss Lucille hadn't.
She had taught him to love angels.
He had no clue as to who had done the painting, no clue whatsoever. To him, it didn't matter. It was the portrait itself that he loved and admired, It was a huge picture, in a fine gilded frame-he'd always seen to its care and preservation. He stoped pacing long enough to gaze at it whilst standing still, cocking his head to admire it from every angle possible, as he so often did.
Every day.
The portrait was of an angel, no doubt, clothed in rippling robes of red and gold, surrounded by children, and animals small and large, like deer and rabbits and horses, and birds of every color flew about the trees and hedges. The Angel of Nature, he believed it was called. But the thing he'd always loved the most about it, the thing that kept him riveted to it since he'd been a child, was the blazing beauty of the angel herself.
The angel was a heavenly vision, with wind stirring her vibrant red hair in a mass of crimson glory. Her stunning green eyes pierced the gaze of the admirer like she was gazing into the depths of the human mortal soul itself. She looked as though she could step right out of the painting and into the real world if she so chose. Angels couold do that. Miss Lucille had told him so.
The painting wasn't just all he had left of Miss Lucille, who had died at such a young and energetic age of twenty. He had memories of all that she had taught him, all about angels and how they were the personification of love, heralds of great and wonderful things. How he, Reggie Forsythe himself,would always have a guardian angel watching over him all the time.
In the last two days however, he had made a startling discovery. The angel in the picture, the very angel he so loved and admired, really existed. She was real!
Her name was Felicity Merriman. And she was real!
He had made it a habit of collecting angellic things.
Now, things would no longer do. Angels existed. His angel existed. It meant something. This Felicity Merriman was the living version of his beloved painting. 'Twas as if she had indeed stepped out of the painting and come to life. Oh, she was a few years younger than the angel in the painting, but what did that matter? An angel was an angel. She was his angel. He swallowed the last of the wine and stared at his painting. Felicity, he thought deliriously, she is so named... There would be no doubt. If an angel indeed, he would have to have her.
CHAPTER 2 FINISHED