Washington leaned over his desk. “I will start on the necessary papers.”
“Lady Cameron!”
Amanda was seated in one of the small gardens off thetapis vert, or “green carpet,” the broad walk in the center of the gardens at the Palace of Versailles. She had gone there to be alone, but she knew the low, well-modulated voice very well now, and as was usual, she felt a smile curve her lip. It was Ben Franklin, and he was huffing a bit with the exertion of walking. He wasn’t a young man, of course, but he didn’t really act like an old man at all. His eyes were young, she decided, as young as his thoughts and ideas and dreams.
“I’m here, Mr. Franklin!” she called, and he came around a newly planted rose bush to meet her.
“Ah, there you are, my dear!”
“Sit—if there is room!” Amanda encouraged him. She was so very large now, she felt as if she were taking up the entire garden seat with her bulk. He smiled brightly and did so.
“How are things going?” she asked him.
“Ah,pas mal!” he said, “Not bad, not bad. And yet not so good either. I think that the French are our friends. Individual counts and barons support me, and I believe that eventually the king and his ministers will fall in for us. I believe the queen is all for me.”
“Marie Antoinette? She is quite smitten, sir, I would say!” Amanda teased him. Of course, it was true. The queen was as taken with Benjamin Franklin as all the other ladies seemed to be.
Franklin sighed. “Not that I’m at all sure she even knows what I’m asking for! Alas, they’re just children, you see. The king is scarce a boy of twenty-three, and the queen—oh! But then you are barely that yourself, milady! My apologies. It’s just that when you reach my age, well…”
“There was no offense at all taken, Mr. Franklin. Besides, they say that Louis tries very hard, that he is thoughtful and considerate, but not a very talented ruler as yet. Perhaps he will become so in time. My goodness, I should hope so. This palace itself is so magnificent—and so huge!”
Versailles was huge and beautiful, and under other circumstances, Amanda might have loved it. But she lived with too much bitterness inside of her to truly enjoy the magnificence with which she lived.
She had not believed that Eric should be able to ride away from her so easily—and yet he had. She had watched him from their window when he had ridden, and he had not so much as looked back.
And even then she had thought that he would turn around. That he would come back to her. But he did not. As soon as the necessary repairs had been done to the ship, Cassidy had told her that they would be leaving on theGood Earth. She had been delighted to discover that Danielle had recovered fully from her injury at Tarryton’s hands, and would accompany her, but she still could not believe that she was being escorted off her own property.
She shivered suddenly. The story of the valiant Nathan Hale had reached France, and she could not forget that had she been a man and captured by some man other than her husband, she might well have swung from a rope herself. Except that she was innocent!
Innocent…
She had remembered her innocence during the whole long ocean voyage. She had remembered it when she had first started to get sick upon the open sea, and she had been so wretchedly sick that she had thought it a pity Eric wasn’t there. He would have thought her duly punished if he could have just seen the green shade of her face. She didn’t normally react so to ships, perhaps it was a just punishment for trying to save her cousin’s ungrateful throat!
But then, slowly, she had begun to realize that it was not the sea making her so wretched. It probably took her longer to discover than it should have, but her mind was ever active, and she felt as if her heart bled daily. Sometimes she was furious with a raw, scarce-controlled passion; sometimes her anger was cold, something that made her numb. She swore that she would never forgive Eric, never. Then she missed him all over again and wondered if he lived and if he was well. Then she thought that he deserved to rot for what he had done to her, but then that thought would flee her mind, and she would pray quickly that God would not let him die because of her careless thoughts.
They had nearly reached France by the time she realized, with some definite shock, that she was going to have a child. Joy filled her. No amount of anger or hatred could stop the absolute delight that filled her body, heart, and soul. She had been so afraid that they never would have a child. Eric had even accused her of trying not to have one. And now, when all between them seemed severed forever…
She was going to have a child. An heir for Cameron Hall.
Should the hall survive the war. For it was war now. The colonies were thirteen united states, and it was full-scale war.
And in the midst of their own personal warfare and battle, a child had at last been conceived. She hugged the knowledge to herself at first, but by the time they at last stepped from theGood Earthto French soil, Danielle had guessed her secret. Danielle wanted her to write to Eric immediately, but Amanda could not do so. She was thrilled with the child and determined that she would do nothing to risk the babe’s health whatsoever, but the bitterness was alive within her, and she would not write. She would not have him send for the child. He could not have their babe so easily. When he determined to sail for her, then he would find out about the child.
Perhaps there was more, too, she realized, trembling. He had accused her of adultery with Robert. She could not believe that he meant his words, but then she had never seen Eric so angry, so cold, as he had been that last time. She could not forgive him. She swore to herself that she hated him.
But it was, of course, a lie, and she prayed nightly that he had not been killed. News came daily to the French court. Even if it was old by the time that it reached there, Amanda thrived on all that she heard. Virginia, Manhattan, Long Island, New Jersey, Pennsylvania—and Trenton. She heard about them all. General Washington’s maneuvers of the last days of December and early January were being characterized as some of the most brilliant in military history. And Eric was always with Washington, so it was always possible to know how he fared. Fine, and well, she was always told. A Virginia horseman to match any, he was usually seen mounted atop his beautiful black horse, Joshua, and always at the forefront of action. He had survived every confrontation.
So far.
It was nearly spring. The first days of March were upon them. Snows would be thawing in Pennsylvania and New York, and it would be time for men to go to war again.
He could die, she thought. He could die without ever knowing that he had a child. And he would have one soon. Any day, perhaps any hour.
“You look cold,” Franklin chastised beside her. “You should not be out here, Lady Cameron, and certainly not alone.”
“Oh, I’m not alone, Mr. Franklin. A man of your acute vision must have observed that I am never alone! No, sir, my husband’s man, Cassidy, is with me now. And if you will note later, sir, there will be a handsome Acadian man near me, and there is my maid, of course, and my sponsor here, the Comte de la Rochelle.”
Franklin nodded and patted her hand. “Well, my dear, there was a rumor, you know, that you were sympathetic to the British.”
