Letters to Lissie

by Katy Rose15

After waiting for two years, Ben is finally able to fight in the war for independence, leaving behind a worried and smitten Felicity. As the years go by, they keep in touch through letters, sharing their hopes, dreams, and fears, growing up together though apart. They had always been close. Could a close friendship lead to something deeper?

17. Chapter 17

So sorry I took forever to update! School started back up a couple weeks ago; enough said. And now there's homecoming to deal with, and homework, and all of the other joys of school. :/ Anyway, keep reviewing, please!

Chapter 16

Three weeks later drew Felicity's stay to a close. Jean Luc had nearly had a heart attack when he saw her hair, but she didn't care. She had made her point. Now that that was behind, it was the day they left for America. Goodbyes are always bittersweet, and Felicity hated to say goodbye to the kind aunts, Adèle, Monsieur Beaumont, and the children. "Don't go!" begged little Christophe, clinging to her skirts, which reminded her of Polly. "S'il vous plaît, mademoiselle?"

"I'm sorry, dear," she said with a sad smile. "But I must get back to my own family." Both of the twins hugged her. "We will miss you," said Jeanette.

"We love you," added Isabella. Felicity kissed the top of their heads. "I love and will miss you too," she said. "And keep working on your English; I expect letters."

"Oui," they agreed. Then Jeanette grinned and tugged at her elbow.

"When you get home," she whispered. "The first thing you should do is find this Mr. Davidson and give him a big kiss hello." Felicity laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up, ma petit," she said. Then Monsieur Beaumont kissed both of her cheeks, as the French do. "Good luck, chèrie," he said. "You are always welcome here."

"Merci, Monsieur," she said. "And thank you a thousand times for everything."

"You are more than welcome," he said kindly. All to soon, the inevitable moment came. All of the trunks were packed, and the carriage was ready. Felicity bid them all a bittersweet au revoir and followed Jean Luc out the door.

It was raining when the ship left the harbor a few days later. Felicity felt sorry to be leaving France, but after five months, she was ready to see her family again. It was a closed chapter now. She closed her eyes. She, Felicity Merriman, had really been to Europe. "Au revoir, France," she thought. "And thank you."

The ship was as dull as dull could be, especially with only Jean Luc to talk to. And she wasn't too terribly happy with him. They were about halfway there when she finally found some entertainment. His name was James Deangelis. Somehow, he and Felicity continuously seemed to literally bump into each other, so finally they figured they had better sit down and talk before they had an accident. He was an American man and a third class passenger, which meant that he and Felicity shouldn't have been seen within a hundred feet of each other, but what Jean Luc didn't know wouldn't hurt him. They struck up conversation easily, and over the next few days Felicity had explained that she was from Williamsburg and had been in France as a governess for a wealthy family, which led her to explain how they were her best friend's inlaws. James said that he had been in France with his aunt and uncle since he was eleven and his parents passed away. He was twenty years old, and for nine years had been neglected and pushed off to the side by his wealthier relatives who thought of him as nothing as a nuisance. He said he had been saving his money since he was thirteen and worked for a printer for a while. "And so," he said. "I worked at it for a good seven years, finally made the money for a third class ticket, and now am on my way home after so many years."

"Why didn't you just stay in France?" she asked.

"Think about it," he said with a grin. "I wasn't wanted, and even after I could get a place of my own. And would you rather live in a country ruled by a king or one without?"

"All right, I see your point," she said. "You're lucky, though. You were away during the whole war."

"I had my own problems to worry about," he said. "But I suppose being neglected in a nice house is better than starving in a destroyed one, isn't it?" Felicity smiled. Finally, someone understood! "It was horrifying towards the end," she said. "There was a siege in Williamsburg. We lived in our cellar. No fresh food, no clean clothes. And that was for civilians!"

"Could you imagine being a soldier?" he asked. "Imagine, those conditions a hundred times worse!"

"I can imagine," she said softly. "I knew people who fought, one who I was particularly concerned about."

"Who?" asked James, then he grinned. "Your lover? Fiancé? Husband?"

"Very funny," she snorted. "No, he was not my lover, nor my fiancé, nor my husband. He was my father's apprentice." James frowned. "But I thought apprentices couldn't join the militia," he said. "How-"

"Tis a long, dull story," she interrupted. "My father let him, which I wasn't too pleased about. I was very close to him. He was always a good friend."

"Did he come home?" he asked.

"He did," she replied. "Alive with all of his limbs intact, though his soul wasn't."

"I guess war will to that to you," said James. "I would have fought, had I been there."

"You still could have," she pointed out. "The French helped us win."

"They were some of the best sailors in the world," he explained. "I had not so much as rowed a little boat in a river, nor had I any military experience. And my aunt and uncle didn't want to pay for me to get it. In France, it isn't like it is in America where anyone can join, even a fourteen-year-old who has never even shot a deer in his life, much less a man." She just nodded understandingly. Then she asked, "Where are you from? Originally, I mean?"

"Baltimore," he said. "When my parents died, I was sent to Portsmouth to live with my grandmother, who was the kindest lady in the world. Then when she knew she didn't have much longer to live, she took all the money she had and sent me abroad to France to live with my aunt and uncle. And I haven't been back since."

"Well, I'm sorry about your grandmother," she said. "And about how you had to put up with that aunt and uncle." James just shrugged. "Builds character," he said. "Besides, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." She just nodded. Then he asked, "So what about you? What's your life's story?" She smiled a little. "I don't think there's much to tell," she said. "I was born and raised in Williamsburg. My father owns a general store, and my mother is a gentlewoman. I've got three younger siblings ranging in ages from seven to fifteen. I am eighteen years old and not married. For half of my life, I have seen war, and two years ago I came far too close to it for comfort. I have spent four months in France as a governess and am now returning home. And that's about it."

"All right, you've summed it up well," he said. "Care to elaborate with details?"

"Not particularly," she said. "I told you about the war, and the only other exciting thing that has happened in my life is this trip."

"So how was that?" he asked. "I know how you got there, with your friend's inlaws and all, but how was the trip itself?"

"It was…interesting," she said.

"Interesting as in, 'it was the best four months of my life'," he asked. "Or interesting as in, 'it was utterly horrible and this ship can't get to America fast enough'?"

"A little bit of both," she said with a smile. "The children were a joy, and they lived in this grand old mansion. The family owned a vineyard. I had my own maid and everything, and I was just the governess! There were grand parties with food and dancing, but the rules, oh God! the rules! Society is bad enough in America. Tis ten times worse in France! I was frowned upon for merely stating my opinion, and dressing too plainly, and doing my hair too plainly, and for not having a huge bust, and-" she paused and blushed a little. "I've said too much," she said.

"No," he assured her. "I believe you. And isn't it like that in America?"

"Only the opinion part," she said. "I noticed that in France, women-at least wealthy ones-are only looked at as sexual objects. For example, if a woman doesn't have a huge bust spilling out of her gown, then nobody thinks that she will amount to much." She blushed again. "Again, I've said too much."

"You haven't," he said. "I like hearing your insights on the problems with today's society."

"I thought it was bad in Williamsburg until I came to France," she went on. "Women don't have many rights in America, but at least one can lead a happy life on her own without being a sexual toy."

"It wasn't like that for most people," he said. "For the ordinary, people married each other and stayed faithful to each other, even if they weren't the best-looking people in the world or had this desirable trait or whatever."

"That's how it is back home," she said. "Even for the wealthy. You know, as classy and refined as they seem, the French certainly are quite the opposite, aren't they?"

"The rich folks are, at least," he agreed, leaning against the railing. "So if you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?"

"Everyone would be equal," she said immediately. "Men and women, black and white. We would all be on equal footing." She sighed. "In the Declaration of Independence, Mr. Jefferson writes that 'all men are created equal'," she continued. "What he really means is, 'all white men who own property, vote, and have money are created equal'. Not black men, not poor men, and especially not women." She then smiled a little. "I don't know why I just vented all of that to you," she said. "I don't know you, you don't know me, and I don't know why we are even talking! We shouldn't be seen within a hundred feet of each other."

"We are both people," he reasoned. "You just so happen to have a higher class ticket than I do. And while I don't know Felicity Merriman's birthday or favorite color, I do know that she despises how in upper class France women are seen only as objects of sexual appeal. I know that she believes that women can do anything that men can do, and that she thinks that everyone is equal to everyone else, regardless of race, gender, wealth, or age. Oh, and you mentioned that you liked horses." Felicity was quiet. Then she said, "Fine, but I hardly know anything about you, Mr. Deangelis."

"James," he corrected. "And I've told you my life story."

"I know," she said. "But I know nothing on how you stand on politics or anything I just mentioned."

"Well, if we are talking about women," he said. "Then yes, I think I'd have to agree with you. But to give women more rights, I think they would have to be more educated than just in the domestic arts."

"But schools don't take girls," she said. "At least not universities."

"And they should," he said. "And think of it; women fight with words, not guns. If a women ruled the nations, think of all the wars we would save! They would just argue the issue out amongst themselves." Felicity laughed. "That's actually a very good point," she said.

"Maybe someday," he said. "Maybe women will have the same rights as men."

"That will happen the same day women wear trousers and men wear earrings," she said. "A someday…" her voice trailed off, then she closed her eyes. "That may never come." James laughed. "Never know," he said. It was then that Jean Luc came out. "Felicity, what are you doing out here?" he asked. "And with this…man?" He said "man" as if he were talking about a disgusting insect. "Oh, this is James Deangelis," she said casually. "We've just been striking up conversation for the past couple of days. James, this is Jean Luc Beaumont. He has been my travel companion." James stuck his hand out politely. "How do you do, sir?" he asked pleasantly. Jean Luc looked at his hand as though it were belonging to some hideous animal. He shook it lightly. "Quite well, thank you," he said coolly. He then looked at Felicity. "You should get inside. It looks like a storm is brewing." Felicity looked out at the blue, cloudless sky. "No, it doesn't," she said.

"Now," he hissed. She frowned at him, but didn't protest. "Fine," she agreed reluctantly. She turned back to James and smiled. "Well, Mr. Deangelis. I am afraid we must say adieu. I certainly hope our paths cross again."

"I do too, Miss Merriman," he said, kissing her hand. He then grinned. "I saw all the gentlemen to that to the ladies, and I've wanted to try it ever since," he whispered. She grinned back, then reluctantly followed Jean Luc back inside.

"I don't want you talking to that man," said Jean Luc once inside the cabin. Felicity frowned and sat in the seat opposite him. "Why not?" she asked. "He seemed nice."

"Perhaps," said Jean Luc. "But he is still a third class passenger."

"So what?" she asked. "He is a person too."

"But you are a lady!" he said. "You should not be associating with those kind of people, especially a man!"

"I am associating with you, aren't I?" she asked. "And you are a man, last I checked."

"That's different," he said. "I am your guardian on this trip. Besides, I am a gentleman. He is not."

"Now aren't we getting full of ourselves," she said hotly. "And you are not my guardian, Jean Luc Beaumont! My parents are my guardians. You are my travel companion."

"I am in charge of you," he said. "At least until we get back." She stood up angrily. "You are not in charge of me!" she exclaimed. "Nobody is, except my parents! Even when I get married, my husband will not be in charge of me! I am my own person, and I can look out for myself. Which means that I will talk to whoever I please."

"You are a lady," he said again. "You need protection. Those kind of people have no manners; they are too rough."

"You don't seem to think I am a lady," she said. "You criticize me for having an opinion and for dressing too plainly and for not doing my hair the right way and for…other things. When you kissed me, you didn't really like me; you were just feeling me out to see if I had any 'potential'." His face went red. "How-how did you know about that?" he asked.

"I heard what you and Marie were talking about that one night," she said. He smacked his forehead. "Oh Felicity, I am sorry, truly I am! You were not supposed to hear that," he said.

"Well, I did," she said. "And for your information, women are good for so much more than just that. Often times, we are smarter than men!" He just shook his head. "I am sorry," he said again. "I do not know what l was thinking. You are a lady, and you deserve a gentleman."

"Like who?" she asked. "Not you; you just view women as a source of physical attraction, not actual people. Besides, you have your Marie."

"Marie?" he asked.

"Yes, Marie," she answered. "Don't play dumb, I saw you kiss her. You said that you would come back to France, for her if nothing else."

"I did not mean it!" he said. "I was just feeling her out to see if she had any potential!" Felicity laughed unkindly. "That's exactly what you said to her about me!" she said. "And you said that I didn't have any."

"I did not mean it!" he said again. "If anything, she does not!" She laughed again. "You're worse than I thought!" she said. "My goodness, Jean Luc, how two-timing can you be?"

"I am not being two-timing!" he argued. "Please, Felicity, I did not mean what I said. Come back with me, and I'll show you." This caught her off guard. "What?" she asked.

"Come back with me," he repeated. "When I go back."

"Jean Luc," she said. "I am going back to my family, who I have not seen in six months. I never want to be so far away from them again. France was lovely, really it was, but I don't need to go back. Why do you want me to?"

"Because I want you to be with a better class of people," he said. "In the past few months, I have developed a sense of protection over you. I think it would be better for you to associate with a higher class of people than you would in America, even for just a little bit longer."

"And why is that?" she asked.

"Because it would teach you proper etiquette," he said.

"I have proper etiquette, thank you very much," she snapped.

"Of course," he said. "But I do not just mean your manners. I mean other things like how you dress and how you state your opinion too much. You need to learn your place, and I think that some more time in France will help you."

"I didn't come to France to improve my social skills," she said. "I came to teach your siblings."

"Honestly, Felicity," he said. "I am only trying to help you. That way, you will not have to deal with people talking behind your back."

"Tis rude to talk behind one's back anyway," she said. "Besides, I am entitled to my opinion, and I shall speak it if I so wish. And I shall dress as I wish, and fix my hair as I wish. I am not hurting anybody by being myself."

"No," he agreed. "But you know, if you do not act a certain way, you will embarrass yourself as well as your family. The same goes for your marriage choice. I think if you came back to France, you would have better marriage prospects than in America."

"Americans are not just a bunch of lazy farmers, you know," she said hotly. "And why do you care about my marriage prospects? Tis not as if you have an interest in me regarding that area."

"No," he admitted. "But I just worry about you, is all."

"About what?" she asked.

"That you will bring shame to yourself and your family," he said."Especially if you do not marry right." Now she was really angry. "I shall not bring shame to myself nor my family!" she shouted. "Yes, I sometimes say too much. Yes, I do not always act like a lady should. And yes, I do take too much of an interest in topics that are none of my business. But I can dance, I am polite and courteous, and I can dress myself elegantly without looking like a…well, never mind. And I will not marry some sleazy old Frenchman who only wants me for the way I look, no matter how much money he has. I am a person, and though I am a woman, I can make my own choices."

"Felicity, please," he said. "I am only trying to help you."

"I appreciate that," she said. "But I don't need help. I am an American girl, and I shall marry an American boy that I love, even if he is poorer than dirt. And I shall attend American parties, where yes, there is cattiness and gossip, but there isn't the mindset that women are supposed to be there only to satisfy men's lusts. And that is the one thing I really noticed and disliked about you French. You look at women as nothing but sexual objects, not actual people." He just sighed, exasperated. "Now," she said, standing up. "If we are done with this conversation, I am going back out on the deck for some fresh air." And she left without another word.

A few days later, when they were about a week out from Virginia, Felicity ran into James again. He smiled when he saw her. "Hello again, Miss Merriman," he said. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"Jean Luc hasn't let me out of his sight," she sighed, leaning against the railing and looking out at the horizon. James frowned. "That seems a bit protective," he remarked.

"He is protective," she agreed. "And I'm not sure why. He wanted me to go back with him to France…after he's done in the colonies." James frowned. "Why?" he asked. "You're just now coming home for good."

"That's what I said," she said. "He doesn't think I'm ladylike enough and wants to enhance my etiquette by having me spend more time in France. He says I'll shame myself and my family if I don't."

"You will not shame yourself or your family," he said firmly. "I think you have very good etiquette."

"He thinks my fashion sense is too plain," she said. "And that I speak my mind too much, at least for a woman. He also said that my marriage prospects would be better if I stayed in France rather than in America. He said that I will bring even more shame if I don't marry right."

"And what's his definition of 'right'?" he asked. "Not him, surely?"

"No," she said. "I don't know, I think it's sweet that he worries, but I don't think it's any of his business."

"He could be smitten with you," he suggested. "And wants to keep you for himself."

"Me and all of his other girls," she scoffed. "No, and even if he does, I know tis no more than a physical attraction. I just liked him as a friend, though now I am having doubts about even that, what with he said about me!"

"What did he say?" he asked. Felicity sighed and launched into the whole incident with Marie, which I will spare you for the sake of time and interest. When she finished, he looked appalled. "Well," he said finally."Those Frogs can certainly be…"

"Rude?" she finished. "Catty? No virtues? Sneaky? Betraying?"

"I was going to say frank," he said. "But those work too." Then he sighed. "Well, you, Miss Felicity, dress very nicely, and speak very nicely, and have very nice morals. You do not need to appeal to men like that. You should be loved for who you are, not for the way you look."

"I think that should be the case for everyone," she said. "Everyone needs someone." He just nodded. She looked out at the horizon, then let out a low whistle. "Look at that sunset!" she remarked. "Isn't it lovely?" James frowned. "Where did you learn to whistle?" he asked.

"My father's apprentice taught me," she said. "Long ago."

"Ah, the soldier," he said. She nodded. "The brave soldier," she said softly. "My strong, brave soldier." She sighed. "I prayed every day he was gone that he would come home safely." James cast her a sideways glance. "You two were pretty close," he assumed.

"He was the older brother I never had," she agreed.

"And now?" he asked. "Do you still see him as such?" She shook her head.

"Not as a brother," she said. "We aren't…" she closed her eyes. "We aren't boy and girl anymore. We are man and woman now. And as man and woman, things are much more complicated than they used to be."

"What's his name?" asked James, propping himself up against the railing. She again looked out at the horizon. "Ben," she answered softly. "Ben Davidson." She then smiled a little. "He's twenty-three - no, twenty-four now! He's always been quiet and reserved, yet he's seems to be pretty observant, which is more than I can say about him when he was a teenager! He's tall, and he's got dark hair, and these beautiful dark brown eyes that can just pierce right through you. And the rare occasions when he smiles, oh God! his smile! It can light up a whole room."

"Do you love him?" James asked bluntly. This threw her off guard a bit.

"What?" she asked, whipping towards him.

"Do you love him?" he repeated. Felicity frowned. "That's a bit personal, don't you think?" she asked coolly.

"Well, it's a simple question," he said. "And you just went on and on about how perfectly wonderful he is."

"Still," she snapped. "That is none of your business."

"You just told me all about him," he pointed out. "I'd say that yes, now it is my business."

"Why must you know?" she asked. "You are being most rude!" James grinned. "I'm not being rude," he protested. "I'm just asking. Do you love the man or not?" Felicity bit her lip. Finally, she said, "Fine! Yes, I do." He looked at her as if to say, "And…?"

"And…" she said.

"And…?" he asked, motioning for her to go on. "Have you told him so?"

"Yes," she said. "And before you ask, he told me he loved me before I said it. But it doesn't matter." James laughed a little. "If a man and a woman love each other," he said. "I think it usually matters at least a little bit."

"We have an…interesting relationship," she said. "There are complications."

"Your parents don't approve?" he guessed. She shook her head. "Not exactly," she said. "You see, it all happened right before I left for France…"

Within the next five minutes, she explained everything to him. Everything. From the moment they met nine long years ago right down to Ben's exact words before she left. James listened patiently throughout her whole tirade. When she was finished, she sighed. "I don't know why I just told you all of that," she said. "I've probably just talked your ear off."

"I asked," he replied with a shrug.

"Still," she said. "I don't know you, you don't know me, and honestly, I don't know why I'm talking to you!"

"We've been talking for the past two weeks," he pointed out. "I haven't known you for nine years, but I've known you long enough to call you a friend."

"But we shouldn't be!" she said. "I'm in first class, and you're, well, you're-"

"Poor?" he finished. "It's all right, you can say it." She looked away. "But we're not a different species," he continued. "Yes, we belong to different classes of society. That doesn't mean we shouldn't be able to talk, though."

"Jean Luc doesn't want me talking to you," she said quietly. James snorted. "And I suppose he doesn't want you with your apprentice either," he said. "Who, and I don't mean this against him, I am sure is not rolling in money. Jean Luc can't control you, Felicity. Nobody can but you. And do you really care what he thinks?" She paused, then admitted, "No, I don't."

"Exactly," he said. "And so you are free to talk to whoever you darn well please, and you are free to love whoever you darn well please, even if that love is the most stubborn man on earth. Who, I think, is not being stubborn as much as he is timid."

"How do you figure?" she asked.

"From what you said," he said. "He's been hurt before, and he doesn't want it to happen again. Deep down, I think he does know that you love him, yet his practical side is thinking that he is being naïve. Even though both you and he know that he's not."

"What do you think will convince him?" she asked.

"It's hard to say," he said. "I think he was afraid of losing you when you went to France, especially with a handsome Frenchman involved who seemed to take a slight interest in you. Which is why he was trying to convince himself that you would move on and never come back so to save himself heartache if it really happened."

"I think he knows I wouldn't," she said. "He knows me well enough."

"To be frank," he said. "I think he thought it was too good to be true and didn't want to get his hopes up. That's all."

"Well, if he had just said it like that," she said. "I think these past six months would have been a lot simpler."

"Not necessarily," he said. "It would have just saved you about twenty minutes of a long, unnecessary conversation." She was quiet a second. Then she said, "Well, I've come back from France without a lover, betrothed, or husband. Do you think he will change his mind?"

"He could," he said. "Or he couldn't. If I were you, I'd approach him gently. Give him some time. If he brings it back up, tell him very gently that you love him and never let go of that. Then see how he reacts." She smiled a little. "And how exactly are you such an expert on these things?" she asked. He shrugged. "I've been in the same position," he said. "Except with a woman, naturally. Besides, I'm a man too. I know how a man's mind works."

"Well, thank you," she said. "I feel slightly better."

"You're welcome," he said. "You shouldn't have to be miserable." Then he looked out at the darkening horizon. "It looks like a storm is brewing," he said. "We should get inside." She nodded. "Goodbye," she said.

"Goodbye," he said. "And Felicity?"

"Yes?"

"Don't listen to a word that Frog says."

A week later, the ship docked in Williamsburg. Felicity was able to bid James a final farewell before they left the boat. She was sad that she would never see him again. He had been a good friend and source of advice.

Her legs felt wobbly to be on land again, but she couldn't have been happier about what land it was. "Home!" she thought happily to herself. "Home!" Williamsburg had never looked more familiar and welcoming. It was dusk when they got there, and therefore chilly being that it was November, but she didn't care. When they reached the Merriman house, her heart leapt. "Home," she sighed contently.

"I take it you are glad to be back," remarked Jean Luc. She nodded. "It looks so welcoming," she said.

"I will take care of the trunks," he said. "You go say hello."

"Thank you," she said, stepping out of the carriage and up to the front door. She paused before going in and looked up at the friendly white clapboard. "Here goes nothing," she thought. She opened the door and quietly stepped inside. "Hello?" she asked softly. "Is anybody home?" She heard someone come down the stairs. "Really, Edward," she heard her mother say. "Would it kill you to close the door when you come in? You're letting in the draft." Then she came down all the way. When she saw that it was her daughter and not her husband, a smile lit up her face. "Lissie!" she exclaimed, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "Oh darling, you're home!" Felicity laughed and hugged her mother. "We just got home," she said. "Jean Luc is taking care of the trunks." Mrs. Merriman held her at arm's length. "Well, dear, let me look at you," she said. Felicity stood up straight. Her mother smiled again. "Don't you look lovely!" she said. "That is a beautiful dress!"

"They let me take one home," said Felicity, holding out her skirts. "Believe it or not, this was the simplest one."

"I imagine," Mother agreed. Then she frowned. "What on earth did you do to your hair?" Felicity fingered it nervously. "Cut it," she replied.

"That much is obvious," said Mrs. Merriman, turning her around. "Well, we can't do anything about it, can we? At least it's still manageable. Why, though?"

"Tis a long story," said Felicity.

"Well," said Mother. "Tell me later. Right now, come in, darling, come in! I am dying to know how the trip was!" She led her into the parlor, where Nan was mending. She looked up and smiled when she saw her sister. "Lissie!" she exclaimed, jumping up and hugging her. "You're home!"

"Hello, Nan," said Felicity with a laugh. "Yes, I'm home."

"When did you get here?" Nan asked.

"Just a couple of minutes ago," said Felicity. "Oh Nan, how are you?"

"I think the question," said Nan, stepping back. "Is how are you? You just got back from France, for goodness sake!"

"It was wonderful," said Felicity, sinking down into the sofa. "Completely wonderful." It was then that Polly came in, dragging William and her father with her. "See?" she said. "I told you I heard her come in! I told you Lissie was home!" Felicity stood up to greet the rest of her family, but had barely done so before Polly had wrapped herself around her waist. "Hello to you too, Polly," she laughed, picking up the little girl and resting her on her hip. "I do believe you've grown!"

"Mother says I will be eight next month," said Polly proudly.

"I know you will," said Felicity. "And now, our sweet William is twelve!" "Sweet William" blushed a little. "It's good to have you back," he said simply.

"William," said his mother. "Your sister just got back from France. I think you can do a bit better." William sighed and gave his oldest sister a quick hug. Felicity grinned and ruffled his hair. "I know," she said. "You're too old to hug." He just smiled a bit bashfully. She then put Polly down and hugged her father hello. "Ah, Lissie," he said with a smile. "You better not want to go so far away again because you are not going, you understand? We've missed you too much!"

"I've missed you too," she said. "Six months is too long to be away from home." Mr. Merriman studied her with a loving eye. "My," he remarked. "I think you left a girl and came back a woman. You look lovely, my dear."

"Your dress is beautiful, Felicity!" said Nan.

"It is French," said Felicity. "And believe it or not, this was the simplest one I wore. Personally, I think everything else looked ridiculous."

"You couldn't look ridiculous in a sack," said her mother kindly. Then Nan exclaimed, "Good gracious, Felicity, your hair! Your lovely hair! What on earth did you do to it?" Felicity touched it self-consciously. "Cut it," she answered.

"Why?" asked Polly. Felicity sighed. "Tis a long story," she said. "One of which I will explain later."

"Where is Jean Luc?" asked Father.

"He's getting the trunks," said Felicity. "He will be in in a moment." Jean Luc was staying the night as well, as a sort of thank you. "Well, supper will be ready soon," said Mother. "And I expect to hear all about your trip then."

"Absolutely," Felicity agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me, where is Ben?" Nan caught her eye and gave a small smile. "I think he is in the stable," said Father. "Why?"

"I'd like to speak to him," she said.

"Good luck," said William. "He's been oddly quiet ever since you left."

"Funny, isn't it, Lissie?" asked Nan slyly. Felicity shot her a glare.

The night air was cold, but she barely noticed. Her heart was pounding uncontrollably, it seemed. What would she say to him? What would he say to her? Would he completely ignore her? Would he be angry? "Approach him gently," James had said. "Don't tell him you love him unless he brings it up." She tried to take his words to heart. She reached the stable. When she opened the door, the first thing she saw was Ben. He was giving Penny her oats, and his back was turned. She smiled a little. After six months of longing for him, here he was, just feet away! "Don't get sentimental," she scolded herself. She took a deep breath. "Hello, Ben," she said softly. He turned around, his eyes startled. "I'm home," she said, walking over to him. A gentle but wonderful smile lit up his face. "Father said you were out here-" she started to say.

"Shh," he interrupted, and the next thing she knew, he was hugging her tightly. Her eyes widened in surprise, then closed. "Forgive me," he whispered. "Please." She lay her cheek against his. "I forgave you long before you asked," she whispered back. She felt his lips against her cheek, and a calm overcame her. "Shh, shh," that gentle kiss said. "Everything is all right, darling, everything is all right." She took comfort in his familiar scent of pine and cinnamon. How that was possible, she didn't know, but it was very Ben. The stable was cold, but she barely noticed. The warmth of his body filled her with a peaceful warmth inside as well as out. Their serenity was short-lived, however. "So that is why," came a voice from behind them. Felicity's eyes opened, and she and Ben quickly let go of each other. Standing in the doorway was Jean Luc, arms crossed across his chest. Felicity inhaled. She was going to have to take care of him once and for all. "Jean Luc," she said simply, going over to him. "What are you doing out here?" He paid her question no mind. "That is why," he said again. "That is why you did not want to come back to France. That is why you acted so melancholy whenever his name was mentioned. That is why you would not let me kiss you." Ben looked confused. "What?" he asked. Felicity grimaced. Jean Luc was not exactly helping her make her point. "Nothing," she said to Ben. To Jean Luc, she asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I think you know good and well what I am talking about, Miss Merriman!" he said. "You are in love with the apprentice!" Felicity blushed a little. Really, the only thing more aggravating than an American man was a French one! "That is none of your business," she said firmly.

"It is my business!" he argued. "I looked out for you for six months! I offered to take you back to France so that you might have a better life in society as well as marriage! And this is the thanks I get? You are a lady! You should not be having some silly affair with your father's apprentice! What did I say about bringing shame to your family?" And now she was angry. "I shall love who I please!" she exclaimed. "And without shame! As for you, Jean Luc-"

"Shh," whispered Ben. "I'll handle it." He walked over to Jean Luc and shook his hand. "Ah, Monsieur Beaumont," he said with a pleasant smile. "It's nice to see you again. I couldn't help but overhear that you tried to convince her to go back to France?"

"I did," answered Jean Luc coolly.

"And why is that?" asked Ben

"So she would have a better chance. She would be in a better class of people, and she would have better marriage prospects," said Jean Luc. "I do not want her associating with those beneath her. She is a lady, and she deserves a gentleman."

"She is a lady, isn't she?" Ben agreed, smiling at her. "But don't underestimate her, mind you. She's a bit feisty."

"I know," said Jean Luc. "Which is why she needs someone to look out for her to insure that she doesn't do anything too rash." Felicity frowned. "I do not need-" she started to say, but Ben held up his hand to quiet her.

"She does tend to get ahead of herself," he agreed. "And I am very thankful that you were kind enough to look out for her. But I think I can take it from here." Jean Luc blinked, then said, "Please, Mr. Davidson, I mean you no offense, but I honestly do not think you should really be associating with a fine lady such as herself at all, much less 'look out for her'."

"And why is that, may one ask?" asked Ben, not seeming the least bit offended.

"Mr. Davidson," said Jean Luc. "Be sensible. You…do not have the most money in the world, nor do you currently have the best social standing. I would hate to see Felicity throw all of her potential away for someone like yourself, wouldn't you?" At this point, if Felicity were Ben, she would have punched him in the nose. Yet Ben still kept his composure.

"Well," he said. "You're right, I don't have a lot of money, and I don't have much to offer her, whereas someone like yourself does. But I've got good morals, and I don't think Felicity would be throwing any potential away if she was with me; or anyone else, for that matter."

"She is my woman," said Jean Luc firmly. "I have been with her for six months." Felicity let out a small gasp at his choice of words, but Ben just said politely, "With all due respect, Monsieur, I have known her for nine years. And she is not your woman, nor is she mine, nor is she anyone else's. She is her own, and she can make her own decisions." Jean Luc seemed to be at a loss for words. "Furthermore," Ben continued. "I love her, even though I know tis a stupid thing to do. For both of us. But I suppose the heart wants who it wants, doesn't it? And while I genuinely appreciate all that you've done, I can take over now. If she so desires." Jean Luc looked at her seriously. "Do not be stupid, Felicity," he said. "France can give you much more than he can." Felicity stood up straight.

"I love him," she said firmly. "And I shall stay with him. No matter how poor he is." Jean Luc seemed a bit taken aback. "Well," he finally said. "If you are not going to change your mind…"

"Monsieur," said Ben, shaking his hand pleasantly. "Thank you for everything. Really. I can handle it. Besides, I do not think you would want to have to put up with her any longer than necessary. She can be a bit…" He looked at Felicity, who raised an eyebrow. "Stubborn," he half-whispered. "And the stubborn ones are the worst." Felicity opened her mouth to protest, then shut it when he subtly winked as if to say, "I'm just trying to get rid of him." Jean Luc frowned. "Then why do you put up with her?" he asked. Ben shrugged. "I'm just used to her ways," he said. "Now you be sensible, my good sir. Don't burden yourself with the trouble any longer. My goodness, six months must have seemed a lifetime! Lucky for me, I know how to handle her. Now, if I were you, I'd go wash up for supper. I happen to know that Mrs. Merriman will have a fit if your hands aren't clean." Jean Luc looked back at Felicity. "Well," he sighed. "I certainly hope you are happy. I certainly would not be if I were in your shoes."

"You needn't worry," she assured him. "And really, Jean Luc, thank you for everything." He sighed again. "You are welcome, mademoiselle," he said, kissing her hand.

"And thank you for bringing in the trunks," added Ben as Jean Luc was almost out the door. "It saved me a lot of heavy lifting." Jean Luc frowned.

"You are welcome," he said. "But I am not kissing your hand." Ben held up his hands. "I don't expect nor ask you to," he said. Jean Luc smiled a little. "Good," he said. Then he left. Ben ran a hand through his hair and went back to feeding the horses. Felicity was quiet a moment. Then she remarked, "You were certainly calm and collected back there." He turned to her. "Tis no reason to get angry," he said. "It throws the other off guard if you are pleasant, I've learned. And I think I did, and I made my point." She nodded a little, impressed by how his hotheadedness had significantly cooled down. Then she said, "Ben, I'm curious. What changed your mind?"
"You did," he said, now hoisting himself onto a barrel. "First of all, you came back. Honestly, I had convinced myself that you would love it there and never return. Second of all, the way you stood up to Jean Luc like that? The way you wouldn't let him kiss you? The way you wouldn't go back to France with him? The way you seemed melancholy whenever I was mentioned? I figured you must be serious." She smiled. "And," he went on with a bit of a sheepish smirk. "Nan gave me a little talk." Now her smile was replaced by a wince. "Oh," she groaned. "I really wish she hadn't. I specifically asked her not to." He shrugged. "Doesn't matter," he said. "Everything is all right now." She nodded. Then, in realization, she said, "Well, for three months." He frowned. "Why three months?" he inquired.

"Your apprenticeship ends in February," she pointed out. His frown disappeared and was replaced by remembrance. "Oh," he said, frowning again. "Right." The two were quiet a moment. Then Felicity said, "Well, February is quite a ways off. We don't have to think about it yet." He just nodded, his brow still furrowed. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he said unconvincingly. "I just hadn't thought of that." He looked at her. "Certainly seems like we don't have much time together, do we?"

"We will just have to make the most of it," she said. "Because after that…"

"Goodbye," he finished. "For good, this time. Not just potentially." She nodded again. Then William came out. "Lissie," he said. "Ben-" he frowned when he saw his sister's and the apprentice's serious countenances. "Is this a private conversation?"

"No," said Felicity quickly. "No, William, it's not. What do you want?"

"I was going to tell you that supper is ready," he said, not seeming to believe her. "So…"

"We'll be right there," promised Ben. William looked at them suspiciously, but he said nothing and returned inside the house. Felicity looked back at Ben. "I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said. He just nodded. Then he frowned. "What did you do to your hair?" he asked. She sighed. "Have you any idea how many times I've been asked that in the last twenty minutes?" she asked. He fingered it slowly. "Is it really that bad?" she asked. He shook his head. "Tis not bad at all," he said. "Just…surprising. Why did you cut it anyway?"

"Long story," she replied.

"I won't ask," he said. "I mean, it's your hair, after all."

"Precisely," she said. "And now, I think we should just get inside before Jean Luc eats both of our portions. You know what's funny? For a man who really doesn't do much all day, tis a wonder how he has such a huge appetite!" He laughed a little. "Tis one of the many mysteries of the French," he said. "One that we uncivilized Americans shall never figure out."

Jean Luc left the next day. Felicity rested after her long trip, and the day after that, paid Elizabeth a visit, who was dying to know about her trip. She seemed a bit frazzled and tired, yet she still managed to put some tea on and listen as her friend described everything, even the part about Ben. "I knew something would happen!" she exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling when Felicity told her about the whole thing with him. "Oh Lissie, honestly, everybody could see it but you two!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Felicity laughed. "I don't know how it happened, it just did."

"Love works like that," Elizabeth agreed. Felicity sighed. "I don't think it will work, though," she said. "He leaves for good come February." Elizabeth frowned. "He is going back to Yorktown, isn't he?" she asked. Felicity nodded. "I wish he would stay here," she said. "And maybe he and Father could work out a partnership. But he wants to be on his own, he said."

"I wouldn't call his hometown being on his own," said Elizabeth. "Considering he's got his parents there to rely on." Felicity shook her head. "He won't let them help him at all," she said. "Unless he were really in a tight spot." Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. "I suppose you're right," she admitted. "And I shouldn't say anything. Caleb almost never been out of Williamsburg in his life."

"Exactly," Felicity agreed. Then she sighed. "I don't know. It feels sometimes that fate doesn't want us together. It took him away to war, them it made us not get along. Then it took me to France, and in three months time will take him back to Yorktown. And when people mess with fate, bad things happen." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "You over think these things," she said. "You two are in love. End of story."

"Not end of story," said Felicity. "We have no plans, no formalized commitments. Without those, you can't exactly have the firmest relationship." She sighed again. "I think we should just enjoy what little time we have left together. Then cross that bridge when we come to it."

"I don't understand you!" said Elizabeth. "You long for him the whole time you are in France. Then you get back and everything sorts itself out. Then you realize that you don't have too much time left with each other, so you naturally assume that it won't work out. Really Lissie!"

"I'm not assuming," said Felicity. "I just don't want to grow too terribly attached to him and then have him leave. At least not without any kind of commitment. And believe me, that won't come anytime in the next century." Elizabeth shrugged. "Stranger things have happened," she said. Felicity just shook her head. "I'm just trying to be practical," she said. "I'm trying to use my brain, not my emotions." Elizabeth grinned. "And if you listened to your emotions," she said slyly. "What would you do then?" Felicity smiled shyly. "Everything I could do," she said simply. Elizabeth laughed. "Oh Lissie," she said. "You've got it bad."

"Perhaps," Felicity agreed. "But for now, I think tis just best to be careful."

She tried her best to take her own words to heart, and it seemed that Ben did as well, though she had never mentioned it to him. The tension between them was gone for the most part, and though they never got much of a chance to talk, Ben would smile whenever he saw her, and she would in response, then the two would usually go their separate ways. There were occasions, rare, but occasions nonetheless, where the two would end up alone together. And about a week later, the perfect one came. Well, the circumstances weren't exactly perfect. Mr. Merriman had received a letter one morning at breakfast. His face was grim as his eyes scanned the parchment. "What's the matter?" asked his wife. He looked at her and shook his head. "One of my aunts," he said. "She's fallen very ill, I'm afraid." This drew a chorus of "oohhs" from around the table. "That's too bad," said Nan.

"Which aunt?" asked William.

"Your great aunt Margaret," his father answered. He turned to his wife.

"I'd like to be with her," he said. "To help out a little bit."

"I will go with you," she said.

"I may be gone a while," he warned. "Besides, the children will need you." Nan winced, and Felicity shared her pain. They were hardly "children". Luckily, Mrs. Merriman thought the same way. "The children are quite grown up," she said. "They can manage the house for a little while; they did last year, when my aunt Ellen passed away." "It could be a few weeks," he pointed out.

"They can handle it," she said. "Can't you?"

"Yes ma'am," all five (Ben included) chorused. Mr. Merriman sighed.

"Fine," he agreed. "I'd like to leave in two days."

And in two days, they had left, leaving Ben and Felicity in charge again. Everything ran smoothly-until one day when Nan went to visit a friend who was ill with scarlet fever. No one thought anything of it until a few days later when she complained of a sore throat. And even then, Rose just made her some tea with honey. It wasn't for a few days until they started to realize that something might be really wrong. One evening, she barely ate any supper, and later Felicity found her next to the medicine chest, looking very pale. "Good gracious, Nan!" she exclaimed. "What's wrong?" Nan's face looked pained. "I don't know," she said hoarsely. "I think I may have gotten the fever when I visited Lara the other day." Felicity's eyes widened. "You've had it, haven't you?" Nan asked. Her sister nodded. "When I was very little," she said. "So has Ben. And now you've got it? When Mother and Father aren't here?!"

"I'm sorry!" said Nan. "I shouldn't have it too badly; I just took some medicine, and I feel better already!" Felicity raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Well, for now, go to bed," she said. "I'll sleep with Polly until you feel better. And stay away from the children; I don't want them getting it." Nan just nodded. "I'm sorry, Lissie," she said again. "I didn't think I would get it, and especially without Mother and Father here!"

"It isn't your fault," said Felicity. "I'll send for Mr. Galt in the morning, and then we can get you well again before they come home." Nan nodded again and left for her bedchamber, leaving her now troubled sister behind.

Mr. Galt, the apothecary, came the next day and confirmed Nan's suspicions. She did have scarlet fever and was on strict bed rest until she was no longer ill, which he said could be a while, depending on how bad it was. He left her a vial of medicine, which he instructed her to take twice a day. He also specifically said that the only people allowed to tend to her until Mr. and Mrs. Merriman came home were Felicity and Ben, since they had both had the fever when they were little. The children were strictly forbidden from coming anywhere near Nan, who was put in the other room so that Felicity could at least have her bedchamber. After he left, Felicity set up what was known as the sick room for Nan. She changed the sheets and aired out the pillows, then dusted all of the furniture. She set a bucket next to the bed in case Nan felt nauseous, and she pulled a chair next to the bed as well so she could take care of her. She sighed to herself and sat down on the bed. Scarlet fever could be deadly, she knew that. And now her sister had it. And to top it all off, her parents weren't home. She thought. Ben wouldn't be much help; he was at the store all day. Polly and William weren't allowed anywhere near Nan since they had never had the fever, so they would be useless. That left her. To run the household and take care of an invalid. All by herself. On one hand, it made her feel very grown up, but mostly it just stressed her. She sighed again. Well, she mustn't shirk. If something happened to Nan, she would be held responsible. She had to feed her and bathe her and comfort her and make sure she took her medicine. As if she were caring for a baby. It wasn't going to be easy. "Well," she thought, standing up. "Do what you have to do."

Nan's condition worsened over the next few days. She developed a rash, and her throat got worse. She complained of headaches and was often too miserable to eat because it hurt to swallow. She burned with fever one minute, then the next was as cold as ice. Felicity sat with her as much as she could, pressing cool rags to her face when she was hot and covering her with extra blankets when she was cold. Then she would have to dash downstairs to make sure that supper wasn't going up in smoke or to go settle an argument between William and Polly. She saw very little of Ben, but at this point, she could care less about him. Her main priority was getting Nan well, and so far, it wasn't working too well. Soon a week had rolled by, and Nan had only gotten worse. Her fever raged to the point where she was delirious and mistook Felicity for her mother. Felicity never left her side, despite her utter exhaustion. Her daily routine became wake up, get dressed, check on Nan, make breakfast, take care of Nan, do the laundry or whatever chore needed to be done, take care of Nan some more, make dinner, sit with Nan even more, make supper, and sit with Nan for a final spell before going to bed herself, usually around three in the morning. "I'm worried about her," she confided to William one evening. "She gets sicker and sicker every day."

"Do you think she will be all right?" he asked. She looked at him seriously.

"I can't say, Will," she sighed. "I've never really seen scarlet fever, but I know it's not good, nor do her chances look it." His face looked worried.

"Chances of…?" he asked nervously. She closed her eyes. "You know." He was quiet. Then he said, "She can't just die, can she? I mean…she can't…she is…"

"She could," she said gravely. "Or she could live. There's really no telling. All we can do is keep her comfortable and try to bring her fever down." He was quiet again. Then he said softly, "I wish she never visited Lara."

"I imagine she wishes the same," she agreed. "But look on the bright side. Lara recovered; who's to say that our Nan won't?" He shrugged. "I guess so," he mumbled.

"Exactly," she said. "Now hand me that tray, please. I'm going to bring our invalid her supper."

Poor Felicity tried to keep a positive attitude for her siblings' sakes, but once she saw her sister growing weaker and weaker by the day, her cheeriness flew out the window. Nan's face was as pale as the moon, and her reddish-brown hair was tangled on the pillow. Though closed, her eyes looked hollow. A cold fear filled Felicity, one she had not felt since she was nine years old and her mother was so very ill. She took her sister's hand. It was as hot as fire. Nan's eyes fluttered open. Felicity managed a weak smile. "How do you feel?" she asked softly. Nan's face looked pained. "I'm hot," she moaned. Felicity took a wet rag and pressed it to her sister's fire of a forehead. "There," she said soothingly. "Does that feel better?"

"A little," said Nan weakly. Felicity then reached for the tray she had brought up. "Here," she said, bringing a spoonful of the soup she and Rose had made. "Try to eat." Nan shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she said hoarsely.

"Please, dear, try to eat something," Felicity begged. "You need your strength."

"I don't want to," she protested. "It hurts."

"What hurts?" asked Felicity.

"Everything," said poor Nan. "My throat, my head, everything!" Felicity felt her forehead and frowned. "Well, at least take some more medicine," she said. "Perhaps it will help." Nan grimaced. "But it tastes terrible!" she complained.

"I know," said Felicity, gently pouring it into a spoon and lifting it to her lips. "But you must take it if you want to get well again." Nan sighed and quickly swallowed it. She winced as it went down. "Ugh," she groaned. "That stuff is the work of the devil! And it doesn't seem to be helping much, either!"

"We've got to keep trying," said Felicity, sealing the lid on the vial. "And quite the contrary, if it gets you well, then it is the work of God. Now you just rest. I'll be back in a little while."

Mr. Galt came occasionally, and every time he did, his face looked more and more grim. One day, after examining an even weaker Nan, he told Felicity that it may be a good idea to contact her parents. "Do you think they can leave your aunt for a while?" he asked. "Or at least one of them?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to worry them more than they already have to." Mr. Galt took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Miss Merriman," he said. "We are starting to deal with a matter of life or death. It has become that serious. I've done all I can for your sister, as have you. All we can do now is continue to care for her and pray." Felicity frowned. "If you've done all you can for her," she said. "And I have done all I can for her, then what more good could my parents do?" Mr. Galt sighed. "Miss Merriman," he said. "Do you really think they would want to come home to a daughter sick with scarlet fever without knowing it? Or worse, a dead daughter, Heaven forbid?" Felicity was quiet. "You need to," he said, packing up his bag. "And as soon as possible. Your sister may be dying."

He had said the words: Nan could be dying. Yet Felicity was in denial. She refused to believe it. And when Polly brought it up a few days later, she still denied it. "Is Nan any better?" Polly asked while helping her sister with the mending. Felicity folded a pair of William's breeches and set them in the basket. "Not exactly," she said. "Her fever is still high, and she sleeps a lot."

"It's been nearly two weeks," Polly remarked, then muttered, "Ow," upon pricking her finger with the needle. Felicity nodded. "I know," she agreed. "It worries me a little."

"How bad is it?" Polly inquired. Felicity sighed. "Pretty bad," she said. "She's got a horrid rash, and she feels nauseous often. She keeps complaining of a sore throat, and she often mistakes me for Mother. I'm starting to not know what to do. I'm doing everything I can, but she's not getting better. If anything, she seems to be getting worse."

"Is she going to die?" asked Polly. Felicity's face clouded over. "No!" she said hotly, then tried again more gently, "No, lamb, she isn't. She will get better, you'll see."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said." Felicity closed her eyes. ''But that doesn't mean she won't, does it?"

"No," said Polly. "I suppose not."

"Right," said Felicity. "We mustn't think such things." It was then that Ben came into the room. "What things?" he asked.

"Nothing," Felicity lied. "Polly was just wondering about Nan."

"Oh."

Felicity turned back to her sister. "You don't worry about Nan, now, all right? She's going to be just fine." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben raise an eyebrow in skepticism, but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut. "Are you sure?" asked Polly.

"Of course I am," lied Felicity. "Now you run along. I'll finish this up." She tenderly kissed the top of her head, and Polly left the room. Ben gave Felicity a sad look before following her out the door.

It wasn't until late the next night that she finally realized that she couldn't deny it anymore. It was nearing ten o' clock, and she sat by her sister's side, gently holding the hot hand. Nan was fast asleep, her breathing labored and heavy, as if it were a chore. Her poor frail body wracked with fever, a demon that had taken it over and would not leave. She was now just a slip of a ghost, hanging on to the last little bits of life. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't speak. She wouldn't even open her eyes. Looking at her, Felicity realized the cold, hard truth: her sister was dying. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She brushed them away and felt Nan's forehead for the hundredth time. Hot as fire. Why did this happen? Scarlet fever happened to other people, not them. Yet now Nan was dying from it, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The medicine wasn't helping, and their prayers seemed to be in vain. "Perhaps tis God's will," she thought, though it was little consolation. Why would He want to take sweet, innocent Nan? Why did all the most wonderful people in the world die and the most horrid ones live? Why were the greatest war heroes killed in battle and the traitors made it back home? Why did the most caring women die in childbirth and the most dreadful lived to just abandon the child? Life was just not fair. "My poor Nan," she whispered, gingerly touching the tangled hair on the pillow. "Why did this have to happen to you?"

"I'm sure she wonders the same thing," said a voice from behind her. "When she is awake, at least." Felicity turned to see Ben leaning against the doorframe. She glanced at Nan, then joined him in the hallway. She looked him and opened her mouth to speak. His brown eyes pierced through her, deep and haunting, still unreadable. Then the dam broke. Her tears finally flooded over to the last person on earth she wanted to cry to. She couldn't help it, though. "Oh God!" she sobbed. "Oh God, Ben!" He shut the door so Nan wouldn't waken. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" she repeated. "What's wrong? Don't you see? She's dying, Ben, my sister is dying!" She squeezed her eyes shut, and she then felt her cheek against the soft linen of his shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "Shh," he whispered. "Shh. Hold on to me, Lissie." She tightly wrapped her arms around him and silently sobbed into his shirt. "She's dying," she repeated once she could talk.

"I know," he whispered. "I know." She straightened up and tried to wipe her eyes. "I-I just don't know what to do anymore!" she stammered. "And I'm so tired, and she isn't getting better, and-and-"

"Shh," he hushed. "Shh. Everything is all right." She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let me take over," he said. Now she frowned. "What?" she asked.

"Let me take over," he repeated. "You need to rest." She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she lied. "Really, I can watch over her."

"No," he said. "Look at those dark circles! When was the last time you got any sleep?" She thought, then answered, "The night before last, for about three hours." He shook his head. "Felicity," he said. "Tis very compassionate of you to care about your sister so much, but you need your rest. You'll make yourself sick if you don't."

"I don't care!" she said hotly. "I wish it were me who was dying, not her!"

"No, you don't," he said gently. "No you don't." A fresh wave of tears came over her, and she squeezed her eyes shut and lay against his chest again. She felt his hand touch her hair tenderly. "Poor girl," he murmured. She didn't know if he meant her or Nan, but it didn't really matter. He then stood her up all the way and took her hands. "Let me take care of her," he said again. "You need to rest. You look awful." She paused, then asked, "Well, what about you?"

"What about me?" he inquired.

"I don't want you to fall sick too," she said. "You know how contagious it is." He smiled a wry smile. "You're not the only one in this house who has battled that fever, Felicity Merriman," he said. "Besides, if I can survive being shot in the arm, I think I can survive anything." She wiped her eyes and smiled a little bit. "Well," she said. "Don't get full of yourself now, Mr. Great War Hero." He laughed a little and let go of her hands. "In seriousness," he said. "With the way you've been working yourself, you have a much better chance of getting sick than I do." She just sighed.

"And now," he went on. "Stop being so stubborn and go lie down."

"But-" she started to protest.

"No," he said firmly. "I will take care of Nan, and you will go rest. I will carry you if I must." She sighed again, realizing there was no arguing with him at this point. "Fine," she finally agreed. "But be careful, will you?"

"I will," he promised. "Good night."

"Good night," she said. And she left for her own bedroom.

As she looked in the mirror while getting undressed, she realized that Ben was right. She did look awful. Her eyes were hollow and had deep, dark circles under them. Her hair was falling out of its bun, and she noticed multiple stains on her gown. Probably (hopefully) broth. She didn't smell wonderful, either. So she went downstairs and took the time to draw herself a bath. Once this was done, she put on her nightgown and brushed her hair, putting it in its nightly braid. She didn't feel any better about Nan, but at least she felt clean. She pulled back the covers and before her head even hit the pillow, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She awoke a few hours later and blinked. It was still dark outside. She rolled over and reached for her grandfather's old pocket watch she kept on the nightstand. It read four thirty. Now wide awake, she sat up. Six and a half hours. That was the most sleep she had gotten in days, a week even. She slid on her slippers and quietly stepped into the hallway to go see to Nan. When she got to the sick room, she saw that Nan had kicked off all the covers and was now shivering in her sleep. Felicity covered her again, and the shaking subsided. She felt her forehead. It was cooler than the last time she checked, but not significantly so. Nan rolled over and mumbled something incomprehensible. Felicity figured that she was probably all right to be left alone for a few more hours, so she brushed a piece of hair away from her face and left. She was almost back to her own room when she had the sudden urge to go into her parents' room. She turned and went in quietly. Ben was lying on the bed (since he was allowed to sleep in there when Mr. and Mrs. Merriman were gone), fast asleep. His arm was draped over his head, and his breathing was heavy. The bed was still covered, and he was still dressed. She sat on the bed next to him. He looked so peaceful, so sweet and innocent. So young. She touched his hair, then said softly, "I think you would be much more comfortable if you undressed before you went to bed." His eyes fluttered open, and a gentle smile graced his face when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked sleepily.

"Just…checking on you, I suppose," she said. Then she asked. "How was Nan? Any better?" His smile faded. "No," he said. "She woke up a few times and didn't recognize me."

"Oh," she said quietly. Neither said anything for a moment. Then he said, "I wrote to your parents a couple of days ago. I asked if one if not both could come home immediately. With any luck, they could be home at week's end."

"Did you tell them what's wrong?" she asked. He nodded. "I know you didn't want to worry them," he said. "But it's getting really serious, Felicity. You can't deny it anymore." She nodded and lay down next to him. "I know," she said. "And thank you; I don't know how much more I can do." He took her hand. "You've done all you can," he said. "And you know what?"

"What?"

"You are going to make a wonderful mother one day." She smiled a little. He then looked down. "You have pretty hands," he remarked. "Especially compared to my rough and ugly one." She squeezed his even more tightly.

"'Good pilgrim," she quoted. "You do wrong your hand too much'. Thy hands are perfect simply because they are thine, as well as every other part of thee." He raised an eyebrow. "Why the formality?" he asked.

"It sounds much prettier than just saying 'you'," she said. He smiled. "All right then," he said. "Thou hast pretty hands." She smiled back and kissed his hand. He squeezed hers in response. Then she asked, "Do you remember the day we first met?" He smiled and nodded. "Aye," he said. "Like it was yesterday."

"Now that I look back," she said. "I really was just a little girl. I used to be hated being called such. But I was, wasn't I?"

"Only nine years old," he said. "And I thought I was soo grown up because I was fourteen."

"Even fourteen seems ages ago," she remarked. "Though it was just four years ago."

"It seems like a lifetime to me," he said. "Only fourteen. Having no idea what the world was really like. So innocent and stupid."

"You've never been stupid," she said. "Clueless, yes, but never stupid."

"Innocent, anyway," he said. "Until the war took it away."

"That war was the end of innocence for all of us," she said. "Imagine losing it at eleven or twelve." His hand brushed her cheek affectionately.

"You've grown up well beyond your years," he said. "You're only eighteen, and you can run a household like a thirty-year-old." She held his hand there and closed her eyes. "So have you," she said softly. "I suppose the army made you grow up pretty quickly, didn't it?"

"It did," he agreed. "It did indeed." She reached up and stroked his hair.

"You're a strong man, Ben," she said. "You're much stronger than I am."

"I'm not so sure about that," he whispered. She just smiled. Then her countenance became serious, and she looked up at him. "What are we going to do about all of this?"

"Hope and pray, I guess," he said. "Tis all we can do."

"Surely we can do more than hope and pray," she said.

"I don't see how," he said. "We've done everything else, and poor Nan just gets worse and worse." Now she frowned. "What are you talking about?" she asked. He sat up, looking confused. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I'm talking about you and me," she said. "What are we going to do about this?" She gestured to both of them. He frowned. "Oh," he said. "Well, what is there we need to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "You will be leaving soon, and I don't want to get too close to you only to lose you again."

"So what are you saying?" he asked. "That we shouldn't be around each other anymore?"

"No," she said. "No, that's not it. I-I just don't want to get too serious. That's all."

"Are…you serious now?" he asked softly. She looked at him sadly. "I'm afraid I might be," she said. "And I don't want to be."

"And why is that?" he asked, his voice now just barely above a whisper.

"Because it could end too quickly," she said. "When you leave again." He was quiet. "You're not offended, are you?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No, I understand," he said, almost thoughtfully. "I understand perfectly." Both were silent. Then she said, "Well, I'm going to go check on Nan again." She started to rise, but he lay her back down. "No, you're not," he whispered. "I will."

"Ben," she protested, but he was as stubborn as she was. "No," he said again. "You've done too much. I'll take care of it. You rest."

"I'm not tired," she said.

"You will be in about half an hour," he said.

"And what about you?" she asked. "How much sleep have you gotten?"

"Tonight, about three hours," he said. "Which is about as much as you have gotten the whole time she has been ill. Besides-" he rose to his feet. "Tis nearly time for me to get up anyway. Here, get up a minute." She obeyed, and he pulled the covers back. She then crawled under the blankets. "You just rest now," he said gently. He turned to leave, then turned back around, leaned over, and kissed her forehead. Then he left to go tend to her sister. She rolled over to where he had been lying and drew her knees to her chest. The bed was still warm from his body. She inhaled, taking comfort in his scent, and soon fell fast asleep.

By the end of the week, Nan was still alive, but she wasn't any better. Felicity looked after her all day until Ben came home, then he took over for the rest of the evening. It was starting to catch up with him, too. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was unshaven. He seemed tired a lot, and according to Elizabeth, who had stopped by the store a few days prior, "he looked as tired as if his wife had just had a baby". Only William and Polly weren't utterly exhausted, and both were worried sick about their older sister. Those who knew and loved Nan often came by to give their condolences, though Felicity would never let them see her. Everyone missed her. She was asked about at church and at the store, and her friend Lara, who had given it to her, felt awful. "Tis all my fault," she cried to Felicity after church on Sunday. "If she hadn't seen me when I was sick, this would have never happened!"

"It isn't your fault, Lara," Felicity assured her. "Nan has always been a bit of a sickly child."

"Still," said Lara. "I gave it to her, and now she's dying!"

"It could have happened to anyone," said Felicity. "And remember, someone or other gave it to you first."

"I suppose," said Lara. "But that doesn't make me feel any better. And I can't even do anything for her!"

"Neither can we," said Felicity. "But you know what you can do? Just keep her in your prayers. She will be glad to know that you are thinking of her. Can you do that?" Lara sniffled and nodded. "Good," said Felicity. "We certainly appreciate it."

Later that evening, Felicity, Rose, and Polly made supper, William took care of the horses, and Ben tended to Nan. The girls worked in silence. What was there to say? The whole house was numb, and its inhabitants seemed to haunt it like restless ghosts. Felicity's vision was blurred as she stirred the stew. It had been two weeks since Nan fell ill, and miraculously, she was still here, sick as she was. Felicity as well as Ben didn't believe that she was going to make it much longer. Even worse, it was coming upon Christmas, and if they lost Nan, Christmas would be a day of mourning instead of celebration. Her vision became even more blurred, and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid adding any unwanted salt to the stew. This did not go unnoticed. "Lissie?" asked Polly. "Are you all right?" Felicity opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. "I'm fine," she lied. Polly didn't look convinced. "Are you crying?" she asked. Felicity shook her head. "No, dear, tis just the onions," she said shakily. "Now will you please go set the table while I finish this up?" Polly frowned, but she nodded slowly and left the kitchen. Felicity looked down again. After a while, Rose said quietly, "It isn't the onions, I reckon." Felicity looked at her sadly. "Oh Rose!" she moaned. "The onions are the least of my worries!"

"What is it, child?" Rose asked. "Is it Mr. Davidson again?" Felicity shook her head. "Nay, tis not," she said. "Oh goodness, he is the most wonderful man in the world! No, tis not him. Tis poor Nan. She's going to die, Rose, she's going to die soon, and my parents aren't here, and this Christmas is going to be the worst yet because she won't be here, and-and"

"Shh, child," said Rose. "You're worrying too much. No one has said for certain that she is going to die."

"Have you seen her?" Felicity retorted. "She is at death's door as we speak!" Rose was quiet. "This will be the worst Christmas yet," Felicity went on. "I can tell already. Oh, why did she have to visit Lara in the first place?"

"Well, what's done is done," said Rose. "Besides, you never know. This could turn the other way, and she will get well again." Felicity smiled a sad smile. "Wouldn't that be a Christmas miracle," she said. It was then that she heard the front door open. She then heard excited voices, and she stopped stirring. She and Rose glanced at each other and frowned. A second later, William came running inside. "Lissie!" he exclaimed. "Lissie! Come quickly!"

"Why? What is it?" she asked worriedly as he tugged on her hand.

"Come on!" he urged. "Mother and Father are home!"

The sight of her parents had never been more welcoming as they all gathered around in the parlor. "When did you leave?" Felicity asked.

"About two days ago," said Father. "As soon as we got Ben's letter."

"How long has she been sick?" asked Mother.

"Nearly two weeks," said Felicity.

"Two weeks!" gasped Mrs. Merriman. "Why on earth didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I'm sorry," said Felicity. "But I didn't want you to worry! Besides, I thought we could get her well before you got home."

"Scarlet fever is dangerous, Felicity," said Mr. Merriman seriously. "You know that." She looked down, ashamed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought I could get her well myself." Mrs. Merriman kissed her daughter's forehead.

"Oh darling," she said. "You shouldn't have had to go through that by yourself!"

"Ben helped," said Felicity. "He's taking care of her as we speak."

"I hope neither of you fall ill," said Father.

"I don't think we will," she said. "Both of us have had the fever, and once you've had it, you typically don't get it again." Mother kissed her again.

"Well, I'm very proud of you," she said. "Both of you."

"How is she?" asked Father. Felicity shook her head. "Not good, I'm afraid," she said. "I think-God-" she paused, trying to fight even more tears back. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I think her days are numbered." Her parents' faces were grim as her tears fell. "Oh dear," murmured Mr. Merriman as his wife held Felicity's head and stroked her auburn hair soothingly. "Oh Martha, we should have come sooner!"

"I'm sorry!" Felicity cried. "I did all I could, honest I did! Mr. Galt has been checking on her every few days, and even he says that there is not much left we can do for her! I've tried a wide assortment of medicines, prayer, holy water, even! But nothing is working. Nothing!"

"There, there," said Mother soothingly. "Tis not your fault, dear. You did everything you could to help her. I only wish you would have told us sooner."

"I'm sorry," Felicity said again. "I know I should have, but I didn't want to worry you, and I wanted to show you that I can manage things on my own."

"We know you can," said Father. "But there are some things that are just too big for you to handle on your own. Why, these things are often even too big for us to handle!"

"We appreciate everything you and Ben have done," said Mrs. Merriman. "But now, let me take care of her. You're not to worry, darling, you've done more than enough. You're not to worry." Felicity nodded.

"Good, then," said Mother, kissing her and ruffling her hair. "Now, why don't you go finish setting the table, and I'll go see to Nan, all right?"

Felicity rested a lot the next few days. She and Polly took care of the household chores, and their mother never left Nan's side. There was still no improvement in her, but she didn't get worse either. Mrs. Merriman said that she smiled a little when she saw her, which was a good sign. Felicity knew she should be relieved that her parents were home, and she was, but she couldn't stop worrying about poor Nan. She was tired of her sister's life hanging in the gallows. She couldn't understand why Nan hadn't passed yet. She was sick enough to, that was for sure. And she had been for a long time now. Felicity vented all of this to Elizabeth one cold afternoon at the store. "I just don't understand it," she said. "She's alive, but barely. It's more frustrating than anything else, all this worrying."

"Is she in pain?" asked Elizabeth.

"I don't know," said Felicity. "I can't tell. She looks it."

"Poor girl," Elizabeth murmured. "I'm sorry, Felicity, truly I am. I can't imagine what I would do if something like that happened to Annabelle."

"It's scary," Felicity agreed. "And what's scarier is not knowing how much longer she is going to live."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said again. "You're strong, Lissie, you're much stronger than me. I could never watch my sister die without screaming and pulling my hair out."

"Takes practice," said Felicity. Then Elizabeth asked, "And what about him?" She nodded to the counter where Ben was ringing up a lady's purchases.

"What about him?" asked Felicity.

"Has anything…happened?" asked Elizabeth. "Have you gotten any further with him?" Felicity groaned. "Elizabeth," she said. "There are bigger issues at hand here!"

"I know," said Elizabeth. "But I would think that it's the next biggest issue in your life right now." Felicity sighed. "I told him that I don't want to get too serious," she said.

"So you have at least talked," said Elizabeth.

"Of course we've talked," said Felicity. "Not very much, but we have."

"About what?" asked Elizabeth excitedly, and Felicity laughed at her eagerness. "You know," she joked. "Politics. Issues between England and France. Taxes. Those kind of things." Elizabeth frowned. "Be serious," she said. "What have you talked about?"

"Mostly Nan," said Felicity. "And how she doesn't seem to be getting any better."

"How romantic," said Elizabeth sarcastically. Felicity shrugged. "She is the most important thing in my mind right now," she said. "I don't have time for some silly romantic affair that won't go anywhere." Elizabeth looked back at Ben. "I don't think it's as silly as you think," she said softly. Then she said, "Well, I should be getting home."

"So soon?" asked Felicity. "Why don't you stay a while?"

"I'm sorry," said Elizabeth. "I don't feel so great myself. I've got a splitting headache." Felicity's eyes widened. "Oh no," she said. "You're not getting it too, are you?"

"No," said Elizabeth. "I had it as a child. I just don't feel quite right. It must be the cold weather." Felicity just nodded. "I hope Nan gets better," Elizabeth continued. "Really, I do."

"Thank you," said Felicity. "You too."

"I'm sure I will by this evening," Elizabeth assured her. "Tis nothing a hot cup of tea won't fix. Good day. And I hope something works out between you and-" she lowered her voice. "You know who."
Felicity just laughed. "Goodbye, Elizabeth," she said.

Christmastime came upon them quickly. It was usually the happiest, most joyful time of year, but no one in the Merriman household was happy. Nan still hadn't improved. Felicity tried to keep herself busy by baking and decorating the house with all sorts of greenery, but it didn't help. Every little thing reminded her that this would probably be Nan's last Christmas…if she made it that long. Mrs. Merriman had said to try to make this Christmas extra special, since it was potentially Nan's last (and also the last Christmas Ben would be with them). While everyone tried, it was extremely hard to keep a stiff upper lip as they started to say goodbye to Nan. "Goodbye," thought Felicity bitterly as she nestled a sprig of holly in Nan's windowsill. She had decided to bring a bit of Christmas cheer into Nan's room, to try to make it a bit more friendly. It wasn't lifting her spirits, but maybe it would lift her sister's a bit. She looked at her sleeping sister. "Why must we say goodbye so soon?" she thought. "I hate that word. It causes people nothing but pain." She looked at the window and sighed. Dreary, dreary, dreary. Cold and gray. That was her life. It had been her life for many years now, ever since she was about eleven and that awful war started. She was tired of the clouds. The clouds of fear and worry. The clouds of sadness and depression. The clouds of loss. She was more than ready to see the sunshine again, and she doubted she ever would. What was the sunshine? And where was it? Would she ever feel its warmth again? Its light? She had not seen light in so long; she lived in perpetual darkness. In a dark, cold world. She sighed and placed a string of ivy along the mantle of the fireplace. All of a sudden, she heard the front door slam. "We've done it!" she heard Ben's voice call excitedly. Startled, she dropped the ivy. She then heard William's voice cry, "Ma! Lissie! Polly! It's over! It's all over!"

"What's all over?" she heard her mother ask. "What's all the commotion?" Felicity heard her father come in. "Martha, listen!" he said. "Listen to everyone in the streets! It's done!"

"What is?" asked Polly. Felicity then heard all of their voices at once, chattering excitedly. A minute later, she heard footsteps running up the stairs. Ben appeared in the doorway, a grin on his face. "Lissie!" he exclaimed. "Oh Lissie, have you heard? It's over! We've done it!"

"What?" she asked. "Done what?"

"We've beaten them!" he exclaimed. "Those damn Tories finally surrendered! Tis official now; we're free, Lissie, we're free!" Her head was now spinning. "Really?" she asked, hardly believing that the long war was really and truly over. "They really surrendered?"

"Yes, Lissie, my girl," he laughed, picking her up and spinning her around. "We really and truly won!" A huge smile spread across her face. "Oh Ben!" she cried, hugging him even more tightly. "Oh Benjamin! Tis all over! Oh, God be praised!"

"They signed the Treaty of Paris back in September," he said. "When you were there, actually. But word has just now reached us here."

"It doesn't matter how long it took," she said. "It's happened! We're finally free! Oh God, Benjamin Davidson, have you any idea how proud of you I am?" He held her at arm's length. "Don't give me credit," he said. "I didn't do much, you know."

"I don't care if you were nothing but a foot soldier from Virginia or George Washington himself," she said. "You played your part, and because of that as well of the thousands of other men who did the same, we are now our own country. And I love you so very very much." He smiled a beautiful smile. Then he leaned in, hesitated a spilt second, and kissed her. A real kiss. Not on the hand, not on the forehead. She felt her heart race as his lips met hers. She closed her eyes, and he drew her even closer to him until their bodies were touching. She felt his hand at the nape of her neck. It was cold, but she barely noticed. He continued to kiss her with a gentle yet undeniable passion, and she kissed him with just as much. She let her hand rest on his shoulder as his lay on her waist. She could almost feel his heart beat. Then she heard a faint, "Lissie?" Startled, her eyes opened, and hers and Ben's lips drew apart. She looked over to the bed where Nan was lying, a gentle smile upon her pale face. "Would you like me to step out a moment?" she asked.