Chapter 14

A few months rolled by. 1782 soon ended, and 1783 began, a year that Felicity would come to remember as one of the most dramatic yet happiest years of her life. A week after New Year's was the anniversary of Ben's homecoming. In February, he only had a year left on his contract. In those few months, her parents talked the idea of France over, and correspondence between Caleb, Jean Luc, and Caleb's uncle Alexandre took place. Monsieur Beaumont (the uncle) said that he would be thrilled to have Felicity for a few months and agreed to hire her. Meanwhile, Mr. Merriman met with Jean Luc often to discuss the details and secretly to find out if he was worthy enough to be trusted with Felicity, which, he decided, he most definitely was. Everything was settled on Felicity's eighteenth birthday. "Well," she said at dinner. "According to Jean Luc, Monsieur Beaumont has agreed to hire me."
"So he has," said Mr. Merriman. Felicity looked at him. "A-a-and," she went on. "As of today, I am eighteen years old, which I consider to be quite grown-up."

"So you are," said Mrs. Merriman with a smile. "My goodness, eighteen whole years ago! It seems like just yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time. Doesn't it, Edward?"
"It does," Father agreed.
"Of course," said Felicity. "Anyway, since I am now eighteen and old enough to potentially get married-" here Ben looked up. "Then aren't I old enough to be away from home for a little while?" Her parents looked at each other. "You let Ben join the army when he was eighteen," Nan pointed out. "And going to France for six months is far less dangerous."
"It is," said Father with a small smile. "And, Miss Lissie, we have been talking about this for a while now, and I know that Monsieur Beaumont has agreed to hire you."
"Yes," said Felicity anxiously.
"And I know that you are a young woman now," he went on. "And that you should be able to have a taste of being on your own."
"Yes?" she asked. "So may I go?" Her parents looked at each other again. "Felicity," Mother finally sighed. "Do you promise to be careful?"
"Yes."
"And do you promise to act like the lady I know you are? I won't have the French thinking we don't know how to behave here."
"Yes."
Mother sighed again. "Well, then," she said with a smile. "Don't forget to write." Felicity's eyes widened. "I can go?" she asked.
"Yes, Lissie," said Father. "You may go."

"I can go!" she exclaimed gleefully. "I can go! Thank you a thousand times!"
"Ooh, Lissie!" squealed Polly. "France!"
"I wish I could go with you," sighed Nan wistfully.
"I'll write to you," Felicity promised. "I'm going to France! France! Me, Felicity Merriman, in France!"
"Are you sure France is ready for you?" teased Ben, though his tone wasn't exactly humorous. She grinned at him. "I suppose we will find out!"

Later, before supper, the two of them were in the stable tending to the horses. "France," he said after a while. "You're really going all the way to France."
"Mm-hm," she said with a smile. "I can hardly believe it. By the way, will you do me a favor?"
"First drawer on the left," he said. Confused, she frowned, then rolled her eyes. "No, not that!" she said. "My goodness, you borrow a man's breeches once and you're branded for life!"
"Twas more than once, Felicity," he said. "It was a month's worth." She just shook her head. "Anyway," she went on. "I was going to ask you to take care of Penny and Patriot while I'm gone. Next to me, you're the one they trust the most." This made him smile a little. "Well, I'm honored," he said. "And yes, I'll take care of them."
"Thank you," she said. Then she sighed. "I still can't believe that I'm actually going to Europe!"
"What I can hardly believe," he said. "Is that you are eighteen years old."
"I know," she agreed. "It seems like it was just your eighteenth birthday!" He smiled a little. "Oh, to be young and innocent," he said. "Eighteen sounds like a little boy."
"You're still young," she pointed out.
"Physically," he said. "Mentally, I feel eighty."
"I suppose that war will do that to a person," she said. He looked at her and smiled sadly. "Honestly, Felicity," he said. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I joined the army." Then he smacked his forehead. "God, I've got to stop doing that! See, the war has not only left me with a bad arm, but with bad language too!" Felicity shrugged. "Just try to break yourself of the habit," she said. "And I thought the same thing, though not quite those words. I was so afraid that I would never see you again, and I cried for about two consecutive hours after you left."
"I was scared too," he said. "But I suppose that's natural if you're going off to war."
"I have to admit," she said. "I've always admired how fearless you were about it, even though I didn't want you to leave." He smiled. "Au contraire, ma chérie," he said. "I wasn't exactly 'fearless'." She frowned. "Of course you were," she argued. "Any soldier is."
"Do you know what bravery is?" he asked.
"Not being afraid of anything," she answered. He shook his head. "That's being fearless," he said. "Being brave is being afraid of something but facing it anyway. That's what a soldier is." Felicity processed his words. He had a point there. Maybe people were right when they said that shyness was just a cover for someone who was deep. That, she was starting to think, was Ben's case. She glanced at him. The late sunlight shone off of his hair, and it seemed to give him a soft glow. His skin was tanned from the sun. He was handsome in a rustic, carefree way, yet could turn on a gentlemanly charm at the same time. He was quiet, but at the same time had some deep thoughts running through his mind. He was serious, but he knew how to laugh, though this didn't show very often. He was smart, but not necessarily cocky, and in Felicity's opinion, he was more worthy than all of the wealthiest gentlemen in Virginia put together. Then she frowned. "Did you just call me your darling?" she asked. He looked up and grinned. "I was just testing your French," he said. "So when you find that French husband, you'll know what he's saying to you." Felicity smiled and shook her head. "You know that's not going to happen," she said. He shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "The French have a reputation for being romantic. Maybe one will win you over. That Jean Luc fellow seems to be taken with you already."
"He is not!" she protested. "He's just being friendly because I will be with him for a few months."
"Whatever you say, mademoiselle," he said in a French accent. Felicity just rolled her eyes.

A month passed, and soon it was the fateful day Felicity and Jean Luc departed. He came early that morning and joined them for breakfast. Ben was oddly quiet throughout the meal. Afterwards, Jean Luc and Mr. Merriman talked over some last minute details and started to pack up the carriage. Meanwhile, Felicity was upstairs in her bedroom with Nan. "Oh Lissie," sighed Nan as her sister dressed in her traveling clothes. "You are the luckiest girl in the world! And Jean Luc is ever so nice!"
"Isn't he?" agreed Felicity.
"I wish I could go to France with a Frenchman," sighed Nan, tucking a pin into Felicity's bun. "I will write to you," promised Felicity. "My goodness, I can't begin to tell you how nervous I am!"

"Why?" asked Nan.
"I'm not going to Yorktown or anywhere like that by myself," Felicity explained. "I'm going across the ocean!"
"You'll have Jean Luc."
"I meant without Mother or Father. And France, Nan. Just think of it!"
"Tis very exciting," said Nan. "At least I think it would be!"
"I am very excited," said Felicity. "Just think of what they have in France, Nan! French gowns!"
"French cheese!"
"French wine!"
"French boys!"
Felicity laughed. "I'll try to bring one back for you," she promised. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to say goodbye to the horses before I leave."
"But you still have an hour," pointed out Nan.
"Believe me," said Felicity. "This may take some time."

It did end up taking some time, but not in the way she expected. Ben was giving the horses their breakfast when she got to the stable. He turned when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Especially dressed so nicely?"
"Can't a girl say goodbye to her horses before she goes on a long trip?" asked Felicity by way of response. He smiled a little. "Well, I beg your pardon, then," he said. She went to Penny's stall and stroked her mane. "I'll miss you, girl," she murmured. "But don't worry, Ben will take good care of you, and I'll be back in time for Christmas." She turned to Patriot. "You hear that, my fine boy?" she asked. "I'll only be gone for a little while." She kissed both of their noses, then sat down next to Ben on a bale of hay. "I really will miss them," she said. "They may have just as many horses in France, but they don't have my Penny or Patriot."
"I'm sure they will miss you too," he said. Penny whinnied as if to agree with him. "You see? She says, 'No, don't go! France is not that great!'." Felicity laughed a little. "She knows I'll be back," she said. Then she sighed. "Oh Ben, can you believe that in an hour, I'll be on my way to Europe?"
"I still don't see what's wrong with Virginia," he said. "Right here where everyone loves you."
"Virginia isn't the whole world," she said. "I don't want to stay in the same place my whole life. I want to see new places, meet new people, try new things."
"But why?" he asked.
"Because," she answered. "Life is short. You only get it once. I figure that life is a precious gift and it shouldn't be wasted. I want to make it count, to make the most of it. Perhaps it's the same reason you wanted to join the army."
"I don't think I joined the army to make the most of my life," he said. "Probably quite the opposite, considering I almost lost it."
"Then why did you?" she asked. Then she said, "Well, never mind. I suppose it was your passion for the Patriot cause." He sighed. "Maybe not entirely," he said. Felicity frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said. "That I don't think I joined entirely for the Patriot cause. I guess that my fifteen-year-old mind liked to think that I was willing to give my life for my country and it was my duty and all of that. It sounded so noble and heroic, like what you read in fairy tales." He smiled a little. "I remember imagining myself on some Godforsaken battlefield slashing enemies' throats," he continued. "I would face immense hardships and come home a great war hero. I now think that I didn't do it for my country as much as I did it for myself. I wanted to be brave and noble, to be more than just a shopkeeper's apprentice. Then maybe when I would look in the mirror, I'd see someone who actually mattered. Maybe like what you said, to make my life have some purpose."
"And?" she asked softly. "What do you see?" He was silent for a second. Then, his voice thick, he answered quietly, "A murderer. I've killed people before, Lissie, and I feel awful about it, and it's going to plague me for the rest of my life. I deserve to burn in hell forever."
"No, no!" she exclaimed. "Don't talk like that! Ben, there's a difference between a murderer and a soldier. Your case is the latter, and it's kill or be killed."
"But just thinking that I ended a life," he said. "A person with a family. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, even. I took that away from a family, from a person."
"Every soldier did that to at least one man," said Felicity. "And don't forget, someone almost killed you."
"Just the same," he said. "That doesn't make it right."
"War isn't right," she said. "Yet it happens. People get killed. And so if you are indeed a murderer, it's you and the other thousands of men who risked their lives for their country." She paused, then added, "Not that I see you nor any other soldier as one." He hesitated, then asked shyly, "Then how do you see me? Besides cold and bitter?" She thought a moment, then replied, "A spring crocus. One who thinks it is still winter and is afraid to open his petals." He stared at her blankly, then asked, "A what?"
"Never mind," she said. "My point is that you are not a murderer. You are a soldier, a noble, brave soldier whom I am so very proud of." He glanced at her. "Really?" he asked softly. She nodded. "I'm proud of you," he whispered. "Of the fine young woman you've become. And I don't care if anyone thinks otherwise." She looked at him. His eyes were deep and haunting, desperately trying to tell her something, yet not being able to. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he brought her hand to his chest. She felt her heart start to flutter. His Adam's apple jerked. Then, before either one of them knew what was happening, Ben kissed her. Gently at first, his lips pressed to hers in a hard and stiff manner. Then his lips became softer and less tense. Her hand flew to the back of his head, and his strong arms encircled her waist and drew her closer until their bodies were touching. She could almost feel his heart beat as his tongue oh so gently touched hers. Faster and faster, like a hummingbird's wings. This kiss was definitely not an accident. He kissed her again and again with more and more fervor, and she responded with just as much...perhaps even more. She started to lie back, and he leaned forward into her. His vest buttons pressed into her breast. His hand gently rubbed her side, back and forth, back and forth. She held onto him, her hand rubbing circles on the small of his back, her other gently stroking his dark hair. Then as suddenly as it started, it ended. He did a soft moan and pulled away abruptly. "No," he said firmly. "No, we absolutely cannot be doing this." He let go of her and stood up to leave. Felicity's face fell in disappointment, then she frowned. That was it; she had had enough of his moodiness. "What is the matter with you?" she demanded. He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said, now standing in front of him. "That I can't talk to you without getting shot down. Then, out of the blue, you teach me how to spit! William makes us accidentally kiss, and you pulled away so abruptly as if you were completely disgusted. And yet you agree to play battledore and shuttlecock with me. You give me short, snippy answers, and then you show me that scar on your arm. You let me lie down on your lap, then when you accidentally fall asleep next to me, you react as though you had just left me with child! And now, you give me the most passionate kiss I've ever had, then you pull away as if the very idea of me was revolting! Why are you so up and down? You're as unpredictable as spring weather; sunny one day and rainy the next! What is wrong with you?" He was silent, then said quietly, "I wonder that myself every day." She raised an eyebrow, and he looked at her. "Do you want to know what's wrong with me?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
"Are you absolutely sure you want to know?"
"Good Lord, Ben, yes! " He sighed and sat back down. She sat next to him. "Fine," he said. "This is the matter." He paused, then blurted out, "I'm afraid."
"Of what?" she inquired.
"This," he said. "You. Getting too close to you. Being so naïve. Getting hurt. Again." She blinked, then shook her head. "Pray, be frank," she said. "I do not follow." He sighed again. "All right, listen," he said. "Obviously, I wasn't killed. Physically. As for my soul, yes, I was. And my murderer was not a soldier, nor was it the actual war. Well, perhaps the war was the majority of it, but the final straw was a woman's doing."
"A woman?" she repeated. "How could a woman-" then it dawned on her. Her mouth formed a perfect "O". "Ohhh dear. I see." He nodded. "All right, who was it?"
"Diana," he said. "As you know, she looked after me when I was in the hospital."
"And?" she asked. "What happened?"
"She was always very affectionate," he explained. "She was always holding my hand or touching my cheek or stroking my hair or something of that nature. She even kissed me when we found out about the British surrender! That night, a couple of men found an old barn and decided to have a dance in honor of the surrender. And, well, one thing led to another, and..."
"No!" she gasped. "Oh Benjamin, you didn't!"
"Didn't what?" he asked cluelessly. She raised her eyebrows. "You know," she said. "That." He looked confused for a second. Then he laughed, "Oh, that? Well, sorry to disappoint, but no, I've got better standards than that. How can you even ask such a thing?"
"I'm sorry!" she said. "It's just that soldiers tend to have-" she paused, looking for just the right words. "Looser morals."
"Well, I didn't," he said. "Anyway, no, at one point I asked her to dance-"
"Now that's even more shocking," she interrupted.
"Will you let me finish?" he asked. "I asked her to dance, and she accepted." He smiled a little. "I still remember her clinging on to me for dear life! The music was a very lively tune, not like some stuffy waltz. Afterwards, we were both red in the face and laughing, and I- I had this sudden impulse to kiss her. She accepted pretty fervently, too. It was then that I realized that I loved her, and I told her this the very next day. And when I did-"
"She rejected you," she finished. "You needn't say more. Tis one of the oldest stories in the book." He nodded sadly. "She was the first girl I've ever loved," he said. "And her rejection just made everything else one hundred times worse. Losing friends, being shot in the arm and nearly losing it, nearly losing my life, just the war in general." He looked at her seriously. "War is hell, Felicity," he said. "For soldiers and civilians alike. It damages cities, houses, families, and people. Because of it, I feel like my soul itself has been shattered into a million pieces. And then Diana...well, she just shattered it into a million more pieces."
"Let me get this straight," she said. "You've been cold and standoffish because of a woman?"
"Not just a woman," he said. "If you saw women crying over their dead husbands, one of your closest friends die of smallpox, a fellow soldier branded as a coward, people you had grown close to get shot in the stomach and die almost instantly, another close friend with nothing but a stub for an arm, fellow soldiers missing an eye, death's door, and then the person you loved telling you that they didn't love you after all of that, I think you would be cold too." He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that I'm acting foolish, that I'm being weak or womanish. You're probably thinking, 'All right, Ben has completely lost it', and maybe I have." Felicity shook her head. "No," she said. "What I'm thinking is that this man didn't deserve all of that." He smiled a little. "That's another thing," he said. "I did deserve it." Now she frowned. "How so?"
"I deserved everything I got," he said. "The night before I was hurt, John and I were talking, and I said that I wasn't very worried about battle because I had lived through far worse over those four years. Then he said that God could still make me lose an arm or leg like Luke. Then I scoffed at God, saying that He had nothing to do with it and that I could make sure if my own fate without Him. Well, obviously, He showed me. Then by His mercy, he healed my arm. But I don't think He was done with me after that. He took Diana from me, which I now think was my Divine Punishment."
"You could look at it like that," she said. "Or Diana simply wasn't the one He had planned for you. Besides, if He really wanted to punish you, I think He would have taken your life, either on the battlefield or at home. But He spared it."

"I don't know why," he said. "Sometimes, many times, I wish it were me who was dead instead of Matthew. Everyone loved him; he had a woman back home who he was going to marry, and they even had a child! He was needed. Me, on the other hand, have no purpose. No money, no wife, no children. I'm nothing but a waste of space, and I should be the one dead, not him." Felicity's eyes widened. "How can you say something like that?" she asked. "Tis terrible that Matthew died, but that doesn't mean that you should have!"
"I wish I had," he said. "Really, Felicity, what purpose does my life have? I think that The Lord sparing my life was more of a curse than a blessing." She closed her eyes. "I wish you wouldn't think like that," she said. "If only you saw what I can see." He cracked a small smile. "I've seen crocuses," he said. She frowned. "I'm serious," she said. "You shouldn't be sitting around miserable wallowing in self pity all the time. The Good Lord spared your life for a reason. You obviously have some greater purpose, or else He probably would have taken you."

"Maybe," he murmured. "Yet somehow I have a hard time believing that. In anything." She took his hands and looked at him seriously. "God forgives you," she said. "He loves you. More than anyone here on earth. He let you live because He loves you and has a purpose for you." Ben shook his head sadly. "I have a hard time keeping faith," he said. "I've seen too much pain and suffering to believe that there is a God; or at least one who loves us." Felicity sighed. "You, Benjamin Davidson, are one of the most troubled souls I've ever met. You could have lost your arm. But you didn't. That bullet could have killed you instantly, as could the fever. But it didn't. As for Diana, she wasn't the one He had planned for you. He will show you her when the time is right. You are a prime example of God's grace." He just sighed. "Now," she added. "Will you please explain very simply why you're afraid of...getting too close to me or something?"
"Didn't I just tell you?" he asked.
"No," she replied. "You just said something about Diana and then about how you wished it were you instead of Matthew who died."
"Well, it was the something about Diana," he said. "I was being naïve with her, fooling myself into thinking that she returned my love, and look what happened. I don't want to get to close to you and have the same thing happen."
"Why would it?" she asked. He sighed and buried his head in his hands. "You're really going to make me say this," she heard him murmur. "Yes," she said. "Though I'm not sure what it is." He looked up at her seriously. "Listen," he said. "In my twenty-three years, I'll admit, I've liked a few girls. I've loved one. But Felicity, I-" he paused and closed his eyes. "I love you more than all of them put together." For a second, she thought she misheard him. When she realized that she was hearing correctly, she just shook her head. "Well," she finally said. "You certainly do have a funny way of showing it."
"I know," he agreed. "Because I'm afraid to. I don't want to go through the same thing as I did with Diana."
"What makes you think I would?" she asked.
"Well, wouldn't you?" he asked. "If she couldn't love me, I doubt anyone could."
"And why is that?" He laughed without humor. "What did I just tell you?" he said. "I'm too quiet, I'm hanging on by a thread, and I'm bitter." She paused before taking his hand. "Well, I love you," she said. "And I don't think you are any of those things. Even if I said them." Ben seemed a bit taken aback. "Really?" he finally whispered. She nodded. "Really."
"And I you," he murmured. Then he groaned and dropped her hand. "But what of it?" Now she frowned. "What do you mean, 'what of it'?" she asked.
"I mean, what of it?" he repeated. "Tis too rash, too sudden! Too unthought out, too hasty."
"What's there to figure out?" she asked. "I love you, you love me, is it not as simple as that?"
"Yes," he said. "I mean no. I mean…oh very well, I don't know what I mean. No, tis not that simple. Love isn't simple. It's a beautiful thing, but it's also scary. Very scary. Besides, how many men have you truly loved?" Felicity thought a minute, then said, "You would be the first."
"You see?" he said. "How do I know that you know that you love me when you may not even know what real love is?"

"I know what real love is," she said with a frown. "Tis deeper than a physical attraction, I can tell you that much. Even if you are the first and only man I've ever truly loved." He smiled sadly. "Lissie, you're only eighteen," he said. "You can't possibly."
"Of course I can!" she said. "Just as well as you can!"
"You're six years younger than me," he said. "I didn't know what it was when I was your age."
"First of all," she said hotly. "You are five and a half years older than me, not six. Second of all, you say 'when I was your age' as if you were so much older than me, as if you were the parent and I was the child. And third of all, you and I are two separate people. You were a teenage boy, and your idea of love was based on...that one thing, though thankfully you knew not to act on it. I am a teenage girl. My idea of love is more mature than that. A teenage girl is more mature than a teenage boy; things run deeper for her."
"Are you saying that I'm confusing lust for love?" he asked, sounding appalled. "No," she said. "You are older now; you know that real love runs deeper than that. As do I."
"You don't know that," he said. "You may say that you love me too hastily, perhaps because I said it first and you feel obligated to as well. Or perhaps you only think that you love me, when really, you haven't the slightest idea what it is to be in love."
"I do so!" she argued. "And I know that I love you!"
"And then, hypothetically speaking, you go to France with Jean Luc, stay there with him, get married, and then have dozens of little Louis's and Marie Antoinette's," he said bitterly. "Don't play dumb, either, I've seen the way he looks at you."
"I don't care if he looks at me as if I were the Queen of Sheba," she said firmly. "Jean Luc is very nice, and I like him as a person and travel companion. But I would never feel the same way about him as I do you."
"He's French," he pointed out. "He's wealthy. He could give you everything your heart desired."
"I prefer my Virginian to a wealthy Frenchman," she said.
"Don't be foolish, Lissie," he said. "I've got no money, perhaps five cents in my pocket, and I've got nothing to offer you."
"You will someday," she said. He smiled again. "That's someday," he said. "Life is full of somedays, and often those somedays never come. I can't expect you to wait around for me until I can provide for you, nor do I ask you to. Be sensible; don't fool yourself into thinking that you love me. For both of our sakes."
"I'm not fooling myself!" she exclaimed. "Good Lord, tis as if you were trying to talk me out of it!"
"That's just it," he said. "I am." Her face fell in disappointment. "What?" she asked quietly.
"I don't want to love you," he said. "And I don't want you to love me. I don't know if I can believe you because frankly, my dear, I don't think you know what you're talking about."
"So let me get this straight," she said. "You don't want my love because you don't think it's real."
"Precisely," he said. "I don't think you know what love is, and you're jumping into it too quickly." He then sighed. "I'm sorry, Felicity, but-please don't take offense-I don't completely trust you. I'm afraid that it is just a giddy, girly feeling that you are mistaking for love. And then, boom! The moment you lay eyes on another man, you'll have those feelings for him instead." She shook her head. "How blind can you be?" she asked, now angry. "You wallow because Diana rejected you, then when the woman you love returns your affections, you don't believe her! Ben, what an idiot you are!" Now he looked angry. "What did you just call me?" he asked softly. For a moment, she was intimidated, for he was much bigger than she was. Then she remembered his gentle nature and that he wouldn't lay a finger on her. "You heard me," she said simply. He sighed, exasperated, and closed his eyes. "Foolish, foolish little girl," he said. "I am not blind, and I am not an idiot. I've seen more than you have, and I know what and what not to be wary of, whereas you would just prefer to jump into things without thinking them through first. As always."
"I am not a little girl!" she argued. "And you know that perfectly well, Benjamin Davidson! I am eighteen years old, and I love you with all of my heart. Whether you like it or not. And I am not being spontaneous."
"Say it all you like," he said, his voice rising. "I still don't believe you."
"Why?" she asked, getting exasperated. "Why will you not believe me?"
"I've told you!" he snapped. "You're too flighty. I don't know that you're not mistaking love for giddy, flirtatious feelings, which changes like the moon in a monthly pattern, and neither do you. You could say that you love me today, and in six months be wed to Jean Luc. Or anyone else who takes your fancy. You are too headstrong. Too much like…" he paused, looking for a comparison. "Like Juliet. You don't know what you're getting yourself into before you're already knee-deep in trouble simply because you liked the idea. I can't let myself believe you only to be sorely disappointed."
"So do you think I am not faithful?" she asked. "That I wouldn't be loyal to you? That I'm some kind of…" her voice trailed off, yet he knew what she was trying to say.
"No," he said. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that you are too young yet, that your emotions can change easily. Tis just your inexperience, and I can't believe you when you say it."
"Then why do you love me?" she asked. "If you think I'm too quickly won?" He smiled a wry smile. "Felicity Merriman," he said. "You're not exactly a walk in the park. You are persistent, annoying, sometimes a brat, even! Yet under that, you are a beautiful, strong young woman who is not afraid to speak her mind. You are not one to sit around and look pretty, being as dumb and docile as a rock. There is a fire to you, and though that fire can sometimes make me want to shoot myself, I love it at the same time. But I don't want to rush into things too quickly. I acted on impulse with Diana, and I'm not going to do the same with you, nor do I want you to. That's all." Felicity shook her head. "You are the most aggravating man I've ever met," she said. "You've never been so prudent about anything else; why now?" He hesitated, not knowing what to say. "I don't know," he finally admitted. She laughed without humor. "And you think I don't know my own mind," she scoffed. He looked down. "I'm sorry, Felicity," he said. "I don't know why. I-I just don't want either one of us to get hurt."
"And I suppose that it would be useless to try to convince you that we wouldn't."
"You would be correct."
She sighed. "Well, then," she said. "If you think that this won't work out, what do we do?"
"Forget about each other," he said. "You go to France, find someone who can give you much more than I can, be happy, and completely forget about me."
"And you?" she asked. "What would you do?"
"Try with all my might to forget about you," he said.
"Could you?"
"Probably not." He stood up. "But don't worry about me; I'll be fine."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Well, be sure," he said. "Don't strap yourself down because of my feelings. What if, for argument's sake, you and I were married, and a year later you discovered that you were miserable because you acted too quickly?" She didn't answer. "You see?" he said. "You don't know that you wouldn't. And you shouldn't have to. I'm nothing, Felicity, so don't fool yourself into thinking you love me."
"I'm not fooling myself," she whispered. He touched her cheek. "Maybe you're not," he said. "But I don't know that, and you may not either." She closed her eyes at his touch. He was torturing her. She opened them again, and his eyes looked sad. "Why can't this just be as simple as 'I love you'?" she asked quietly.

"We aren't boy and girl anymore, Felicity," he said. "We are man and woman now. Things are different. As man and woman, nothing is simple." He took her hand and kissed it. "I'm sorry," he whispered. And he left without another word.

She sat there, slightly stunned by what had just happened. He loved her, yet he rejected her. She looked down at her hand. She could still feel his kiss upon it Without wanting to, she felt tears well up in her eyes. She tried to brush them away, because she thought it was a foolish thing to cry about, but what was the use? She let them fall. And, of course, a few minutes later, Nan came in. She frowned when she saw her sister in tears (believe it or not, this was rather a rare sight, being that Felicity didn't let anyone see her cry). "Lissie?" she asked. "Are you all right?" Felicity looked up and tried to smile. "I'm all right," she lied. "I just...a bug flew into my eye, that's all." Nan wasn't stupid. She sat next to her. "Both eyes?" she asked skeptically. "Something is wrong. What is it?" Felicity shook her head. "It's nothing," she said. "Tis stupid, really."
"What is it?" asked Nan gently.
"It's…it's Ben, that's all," said Felicity, trying to wipe her tears away.
"What did he do?" Nan asked. Felicity's lip quivered. "He…he told me he loved me!" she said, fresh tears spilling over. Nan frowned. "And is that bad?" she asked. Felicity looked up. "Oh Nan!" she cried. "Tis so complicated, I barely understand it myself! He loves me, I love him, yet he thinks that I'm too young to be sure that I do and therefore doesn't completely believe me. He says he wants to be careful, not to act on impulse. Or something like that." Nan was quiet for a second. Then she said, "At least he's being sensible. Which is more than he used to be."
"I don't care!" moaned Felicity. "Sensibility, I think, is sometimes overrated."
"Well, you'll need to talk to him, Lissie," Nan said. "That's the only way this will get resolved."
"Is that not what I just did?" asked Felicity.
"After you both calm down a bit," said Nan. "And can talk rationally." She stood up. "I'll go find him; I'd like to have a word with him myself." Felicity grabbed her arm. "No!" she cried. "Please don't, Nan! I really don't want to see him right now."
"Fine," said Nan. "But you'll have to at some point. In the meantime, just forget about him. You're going to France in half an hour, Lissie, France! Don't waste your time there sulking over him. Pinch yourself if you start to."
"I'll try," Felicity promised.
"Good," said Nan. "Now go wipe your face. You don't want it to be red and blotchy when you leave."

An hour later, one couldn't tell that Felicity had been crying. She was the picture of grace as she boarded the ship with Jean Luc. Her family came to the dock to say goodbye. All except Ben, who opted to stay behind and open the store for, well, obvious reasons. Felicity knew good and well that the store wasn't the reason he stayed behind, but she tried not to think about it. "Oh, my Lissie," said Mrs. Merriman as she hugged her daughter goodbye. "Who would have ever thought that you would make it to France?"
"Not many people do, that's for sure," Felicity agreed. "But I suppose I'm just one of the lucky ones."
"Lucky indeed!" said Nan. "You'll write, won't you?"
"Naturally," said Felicity, now hugging her father. "Though don't expect more than one or two letters; mail travels slow throughout the colonies. Can you imagine how slow it will take from Europe?"
"Just the same," said Father. "We look forward to it. Be careful, now."
"I will," she promised. Polly hung onto her skirt. "Please don't go!" she begged. "Or at least take me with you!" Felicity laughed and pried her youngest sister off of her. "I would if I could," she said. "But I'll be back. And you'll still have Nan and William."
"And Ben," William added. Felicity frowned. "Don't expect much out of him," she said bitterly. Jean Luc then came up. "Tis time to go," he said. "Are you ready, Miss Merriman?"
"Aye," she said. She hugged everyone one last time. "Have you got your good shoes?" asked Mother.
"Yes," said Felicity.
"Evening dresses?"
"Yes."
"Hat?"
"Yes."
"Day dresses?"
"Yes."
"Nightgown?"
"Yes."
"Cloak?"
"Mother!"
"Have you?"
"Yes! Now please, I must go!" Mrs. Merriman smiled. "I know, I know," she said. "Oh Lissie, have a lovely time!"
"I will!" said Felicity. "Goodbye!" And she followed Jean Luc onto the great ship.

After getting settled in the cabin, the first thing Felicity did was drag Jean Luc to wave from the deck. As the ship left the dock, she waved like an idiot. "Goodbye!" she called over and over. As Williamsburg got smaller and smaller, she closed her eyes and smiled. She let the wind whip her hair to and fro and breathed in the salty air. "I've never been farther than Yorktown in my life," she said. "Much less at sea." Jean Luc closed his eyes as well. "I think you will like it," he said. "Unless, of course, you get seasick."
"Do you?" she asked. He shook his head. "Not very often," he said. "I love it at sea."
"I do already," she said. She inhaled deeply. "My, that air smells good! I don't even mind the fact that it will turn my hair into a mess!"
"Not if you stay indoors," he said.
"Where's the fun in that?" she said. Then she asked, "Are you excited to be going back to France?" His blue eyes sparkled like the ocean below them. "Oui!" he answered. "I have not seen my family in over a year! I do hope you will like it there."
"I'm sure I shall," she said. Then she grinned. "But I must warn you, my French is terrible." He grinned back. "Not as terrible as my English, I will bet," he said. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Don't be so hard on yourself," she said. "Your English is très bien." He grinned again. "Merci, mademoiselle," he said. She smiled at him. Six months with Jean Luc Beaumont would be très bien, très bien indeed.

Felicity came to like it at sea. She liked to stand on the deck and let the salty air whip her hair back and forth, no matter how frizzy and hard to manage it became. Jean Luc preferred to stay inside so not to burn his pale skin. Felicity found this rather effeminate of him, but that was what gentlemen did, no matter how silly it was. However, she couldn't help but think, "Ben doesn't care if his skin gets dark." Then she would pinch herself for thinking of him and go back to admiring the boundless sea all around her. She liked to think of all the diverse life that thrived just under her feet. She liked to look out on the horizon and see nothing but open ocean. It gave her a peaceful, easy feeling. Naturally, though, there were things that she was not so fond of. For one thing, she hated storms, and she hated getting seasick (this usually happened during a storm). She didn't like wobbling every time she took a step, and if she thought that Ben could swear (this got another pinch), he was a saint compared to the crew. When she was around them, she heard curse words that she never knew existed. For the most part, however, she liked it. She and Jean Luc were in first class, and their cabin was elegant yet cozy with their separate bedchambers (which had actual beds!) She enjoyed meals in a grand dining room, small, but nice nonetheless. There weren't many wealthy people, so there weren't too many people to socialize with (Jean Luc wouldn't let her go below the decks and see the third class cabins), which made it rather quiet, and therefore boring. However, Felicity managed to make some friends her age, as well as Jean Luc, who she was beginning to know quite well. One stormy night, she skipped supper on account of seasickness, and he stayed with her to keep her company. It was during this time that she learned a brief bit of his history. He had lived in France all his life, he had been in America a few years in the French navy during the war, and he spoke German and Italian in addition to French and English. She then said that she only knew a little French, explained that she knew someone who had fought in the war as well, and that she had a certain love for horses. She told him about Penny and Patriot and how she already missed them. "You miss home, I gather?" he asked after a while. She smiled weakly. "A little," she admitted. "But not too terribly much. I'll be back in six months. I suppose you are excited to see your mother and father again."
"I am afraid I will not see my mother for quite a while," he said sadly. "She is with the Holy Virgin in Heaven." Felicity did a little gasp. "Oh my goodness," she murmured. He nodded. "When I was fourteen," he said. "She died giving birth to my youngest brother, Christophe. He is seven now." Felicity mentally added ages. "So then that makes you...twenty-one," she concluded. He nodded. "I will be twenty-two in October," he said.
"That's funny," she said. "Ben's birthday is in October as well. He's my father's apprentice, by the way. Ben Davidson. You remember him, don't you?" Jean Luc paused, then nodded. "Yes," he said. "The tall dark-haired one?"
"That would be him," she said.
"Handsome fellow, he is," he remarked. Felicity nodded. "He is," she replied quietly. "He is indeed." Jean Luc gave her a sideways glance, but she quickly changed the subject. "Well, I'm sorry about your mother," she said. "I couldn't imagine if either one of my parents died."
"It is a terrible experience," he agreed. "One that I wish upon no one." Then he looked at his pocket watch. "It is getting late," he remarked. "I think I will retire to bed." He kissed her hand, making her stomach lurch. "Bonne nuit, mademoiselle."
"Bonne nuit, Monsieur," she replied. After he left, she closed the door and slipped into her nightgown. Somehow, when Jean Luc kissed her hand, it just didn't feel the same as when Ben did. Ben. Why couldn't she get him out if her head? She didn't want to ruin a once in a lifetime trip thinking about him. Yet she couldn't stop. Benjamin, her mind (or heart; she couldn't tell which) kept whispering. Benjamin. Benjamin. Benjamin. "Stop it," she scolded herself. "He doesn't want you anyway, so stop wasting precious thoughts on him." And with that, she blew out the candle and let the gentle waves lull her to sleep.