Chapter 2
The heavy raindrops fell onto John Murray's uncovered head as he stood beside the grave. Now his mother was gone to join his father. The 'gift of Venus' that had stricken his father finally claimed his mother too. The unceasing demands were over. No more would there be hours of threats and bribes. No more tears, no more pleading. The lordship was his and he was the one to decide his own fate. He stood alone, his mind endlessly replaying the same scene from his childhood.
His mother sat in the flower garden at their summer home. The day was perfect, warm and sunny. She was embroidering delicate pink flowers on a ball gown for his sister. The seamstress had not created as complicated a design as Lillian demanded and Lady Dunsmore had taken it upon herself to finish the dress. It was to be Lili's engagement ball and the dress must be perfect.
The little nut-brown curls danced on Lady Dunsmore's forehead as the summer breeze caressed her pretty face. She glanced up to see her son smiling at her, his ruddy face as tender as she had ever seen it. She was puzzled and blushed slightly in confusion. John walked to her side and softy kissed her cheek.
"Mother, Janie can finish Lili's dress. Walk with me. Let's go to the pond and pick the summer flowers. Come with me, Mother." John extended his strong warm hand. Uncertain, his mother placed her thin hand in his and they spent the next hour arm in arm, walking slowly through the summer grass. In her hand she carried a bouquet of daisies and asters, picked smilingly by her son.
The ball was a success. His father entered the ballroom beaming with Lillian on his arm. Behind them walked Lady Dunsmore, necessary but forgotten. John saw the look on her proud face. He never forgot it. From that year on Celia Murray retreated farther into the background until she hardly existed at all.
Her husband William continued to entertain a variety of mistresses with varying degrees of subtlety. Celia grew crippled and gaunt, nearly blind, her soft voice growing more impatient and whiny as the years passed. All her focus was on her elder son's inheritance. Now all that focus was gone. Silently John said a prayer that her soul would finally find rest. He bent and laid a bouquet of summer asters on her sodden grave.
When he stood his face reflected a new strength. He turned and entered his carriage, spending the ride back to his mansion in thought. He would request another assignment in Virginia. His superiors could not refuse his request. Within little more than a year he would be with Talota again, nestled behind her in her bed, watching her gracefully prepare his meals. Their son would be ten, approaching eleven, nearly old enough to begin training for a Cherokee warrior.
That thought prompted Lord Dunsmore to frown. What about the wild Indian boy? How did he fit into this picture of domestic bliss? The memory held in John's mind was of a quiet, quick-minded, loving little boy. Would he still love his father? Could he?
Memories of winter evenings surfaced in Lord Dunsmore's tired mind as the carriage wheels clattered over the cobblestones. Little Mingo sat close beside him as he read aloud from Le Morte de Arthur or one of Shakespeare's plays. Talota smiled from the other side of the little fire. The child quietly placed his warm slender hand on John's arm and leaned against his father's side. The night dissolved into firelight and the three happy people sat silently, content in each other's company.
John thrust the troubling memories from his mind and concentrated on getting himself to Kentucky. Upon arriving at his family's large stone house he entered the booming hall and shut himself in the library to begin writing the necessary letters. When his writing was finished he poured himself a snifter of brandy and let his thoughts wander to distant Kentucky, where Talota and Mingo waited to welcome the third person of their tightly woven company.
The hours passed and his inebriated mind formed a plan. England would not recognize his marriage in a Cherokee ceremony as valid. He would therefore bring Talota to the island as his mistress. In her simple mind she would still be his wife. The boy could be educated as far as his abilities allowed. As the years sped by he, John, would seek an English woman that he could accept as a wife. The son produced in that marriage would inherit the title, the fortune and the privileges that came with it. He could be prepared from birth to assume the duties required of such privilege.
The Cherokee boy, unfit for titled English society, could be his brother's trusted confidant. Thus every dream John Murray dreamed would be fulfilled. He smiled to himself in complete satisfaction as he rose to consume the meal spread before him on his shining walnut table. Not once did he consider the feelings of his Cherokee family or allow himself to think that his carefully arranged fantasy would never come to pass.
Within a month his orders were cut and he was on his way to Bristol. He boarded a ship a week later and the sea voyage to America began. The passage was quick and easy with a minimum of discomfort. John amused himself nearly every night with the second wife of an elderly diplomat dispatched to Philadelphia.
Cora Linford was a tall curvy woman bored to tears by her serious, careful husband. John Murray entertained her with his irreverent wit and his stories of interesting places. Every night he taught her new pathways to physical pleasure. She was an eager pupil and learned very quickly how to satisfy John's persistent lusts. They spent hours together, the rocking of the ship providing a much-appreciated enhancement to the sexual act. She matched him experiment for experiment and the voyage ended far too soon for John's liking.
He stood at the rail and saw her demurely accompany her staid husband down the gangplank. At the carriage door she turned and gave her lover one last, lingering promise from her tear-filled blue eyes. Then her husband handed her into the coach, climbed in beside her and they disappeared from John's life.
He turned to supervise the unloading of his trunks and sought the nearest inn for a night of debauchery before beginning his bleak journey to Charleston. There he confirmed his orders to complete a survey to realign the harbor. An urgent need existed to increase safety for the many ships loading and unloading at the bustling Carolina port city.
The winter passed in the balmy seaport. John never spent the night alone unless he wished, and he seldom wished solitude. He was an eclectic lover, partnering all colors and races. He entertained all classes, from the wife of the governor to the lowest chamber maid. Never once did he consider himself unfaithful to his beautiful Cherokee wife. She lived in a completely different world, in a portion of his heart totally closed to all others.