Understanding Mercy Page 13

  As her father ushered her out of the room, she glanced back at Ian who raised an eyebrow in question. She nodded almost imperceptivity, but he saw it. He knew she would meet him at eleven.

  Her father kissed her mother and then her goodbye, and turned wearily to walk back inside with a mumbled, “See you tonight for dinner.”

  At the look on her mother’s face, Mercy tried to comfort her with a hope she didn’t feel herself. “Things will get better soon.”

  Her mother nodded once. “I hope so.”

  Mercy tried to encourage her for several minutes as they walked along, and then she glanced up to see Mr. Berkeley’s elaborate coach in front of his office as he stood talking on the steps to several men. Just the mere sight of him caused her heart to race until she felt dizzy. After saying his good-byes, he strolled toward his coach and looked up to see Mercy and her mother walking right toward him.

  He paused and tipped his hat with a simple, “Good-day, ladies,” and then climbed into his coach and rolled away. His normally inviting eyes now looked flat and unapproachable. Mercy felt as if she’d lost something extremely valuable. Something that would never be hers again.

  Her mother leaned in and whispered, “You’d think Mr. Berkeley could have offered us a ride. I suppose he isn’t much of a gentleman after all.”

  Mercy’s heart filled with pity. It seemed the poor man got misjudged at every turn. Mercy wanted to tell her mother that he was a gentleman and he had offered them a ride, but she’d refused. Refused because if she had to be in his captivating presence at all, there was little chance she would have the strength needed to remain faithful to Ian.

  ****

  “I insist you come to this, Berkeley. It will not be like the ball with a crush of people, just a small dinner party of about forty.”

  Governor Hancock was not a man used to being refused, but Addison was not a man used to doing things he didn’t want to do.

  Addison leaned back in his black, leather chair and took a sip of tea. “Forty is a small party?”

  “Just say you will come.” Hancock said.

  “Why is it so important I come to this?”

  “Because I’m hosting a group of French diplomats and aristocrats and you speak fluent French. Also, a count’s young wife has a sister who is unattached and terribly pretty. Happily married man that I am, I still know a tempting morsel when I see one. The countess asked me if I knew of any appealing men who could entertain her sister since she is finding America horribly dull. Patriot that you are, I know you don’t want this young lady going back to France talking about how deficient America is, now do you?”

  He shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “You are intentionally putting a tempting morsel in front of a man like me?”

  “A man like you? I think your reputation as a rake is all talk.”

  With a casual shrug, he replied, “I’m glad you think that.”

  He leaned his arms against his knees and narrowed his eyes as he asked, “Berkeley, have you even been with one woman in the ten months you’ve been in Boston?”

  “Personal question, but no. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, yet you are trying to lead me into temptation?” His voice was lighthearted, but he did have grave concerns.

  After Mercy’s rejection of him, he felt vulnerable, and this probably wasn’t the best timing. In the last week since she’d dashed all his hopes with her, he felt a chasm of loneliness inside him that seemed to grow with each passing day.

  Hancock’s strong, steady voice interrupted his thoughts. “The countess is quite anxious to meet you and introduce you to her sister.”

  “How old is this sister?”

  “Twenty five and already a widow with no children. She married a count, so she is a countess as well.” He paused and pressed his lips together, “Spending an evening entertaining her will not be a hardship. She is delightful. Honestly, Berkeley, you cannot refuse.”

  “Didn’t the patriots fight for freedom from oppression? I thought we had freedom in this country. So I’m free to refuse, am I not?”

  Addison gave him a cheeky smile, but Hancock merely let out a frustrated sigh. “Can’t you ever just be reasonable?”

  “I tried being reasonable once. I didn’t like it.”

  “Are you seriously refusing me, or are you just toying with me?”

  “I suppose I’m just toying with you,” he answered with another shrug. “If I must endure the attentions of a beautiful French countess, then I suppose I can suffer for my country.”

  “That’s more like it. So you will be there?”

  “If you insist, I’ll be there. Tuesday night at seven.”

  “Good.” His face broke out in a look of triumph. “I knew I could count on you.” With a smile, he leaned back in his chair. “I heard you attended Redemption Church last Sunday. Did you like it?”

  “How did you hear that? I didn’t realize anyone in the church besides Able Cotton even knew me.”

  “Able Cotton told me. But everyone knows you.”

  He let out a deep, weary breath. “They might know who I am, but they don’t know me.”

  “I feel the same way sometimes. It goes with the territory of being a powerful man. So answer my question—how did you like church?”

  “It moves me. I want to know God. The pastor gives easy to understand messages. I’ve been reading my Bible, and what surprises me is that Jesus seems like a modest man I would have liked. Much different than I would’ve expected him to be.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Last night I read in the gospel of John about when Jesus went to the temple and got mad at how the moneychangers were cheating people, so he made himself a whip and then charged in snapping that thing around and throwing all their tables over while calling them a ‘den of thieves.’ I have to admit—I would like to have seen that.”

  Hancock chuckled. “You would’ve probably been there helping Him.”

  “You’re probably right. I hate seeing people get cheated.”

  “Well, I’m glad you are going to church and reading your Bible, Berkeley.”

  “Me too.”

  Hancock stood and gave him a hearty pat to his back. “Thank you for coming to my dinner party. I knew I could count on you.”

  “Yes, well, what are friends for? There is nothing I wouldn’t suffer for you or my country. We cannot have a spoiled French countess think America is dull. What kind of a patriot would I be if I didn’t do my part to change her opinion?”

  Hancock let out a hearty laugh. “Seriously, you will enjoy her company. She is an amusing lady and she is incredibly beautiful as well.” He took a few steps toward the door and then turned around. “And by the way, wear the suit you wore to the ball, and please powder your hair.”

  “I hate that suit.”

  “Blanche will love it.”

  “Blanche?”

  “The Countess D’Aubigne. Blanche is her name.”

  “Well, I’m sure I won’t be calling her Blanche.”

  “You never know.”

  Then the man had the audacity to wink. Addison had never heard Hancock refer to a lady by her given name before. The man was teasing him.

  Addison walked his friend outside and watched him get into his coach. He wished he knew how to refuse the man. He had no desire to put that stupid suit back on and try to impress a French countess.

  If Mercy thought him so far beneath her then this lady from the aristocracy would probably think of him as a worm, perhaps an appealing worm to dangle from the end of her hook for the night, but a worm, nonetheless.

  Addison walked back into his office and opened the top drawer of his desk to look for a key, and sighed when he saw the little bottle of honeysuckle and rose perfume that reminded him so much of Mercy. For a couple days after he had given her a bottle like it, he would take it out and smell it just to bring a smile to his face.

  But the past week every time he saw the bottle, it mocked him and s
houted, “ You are not good enough! You are nothing but a pretender!”

  He couldn’t listen anymore, and he grabbed the perfume and threw it into the garbage can where it landed with a sound of finality. Enough! It was a good thing Mercy had rejected him. He’d been allowing her to make him a pathetic fool. He would not allow Mercy, or some French countess, or any other woman to ever have any kind of hold on his heart. Never.

  ****

  “You truly look beautiful, sweetheart.”

  Mercy gazed down at her pretty peach-colored dress and then up at her father with love. “Thank you, Daddy. You look nice too. I have such a handsome father.”

  “I’m glad you think I’m handsome.” His gaze drifted over her. “I’m sorry I could not buy you a new dress. I know that one is from last year.”

  “I have only worn it once or twice and it’s one of my favorites. What a spoiled girl I would be if I thought I needed a brand new dress every time I walked out the door.”

  “Going to an exclusive dinner at the Governor’s house isn’t merely walking out the door.”

  “I doubt I would know if anyone there wore a dress again, and I don’t think they will notice that I have. Don’t worry, Daddy.”

  He gave her an appreciative smile and then went and took her mother’s arm. They all walked down to Hancock Manor together.

  As soon as Mercy walked in the door of the parlor, she smiled when she saw Priscilla walking toward her.

  “Mercy, you look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Priscilla. You look beautiful too, as always. Is Luke coming?”

  “No. He wasn’t invited. This is pretty exclusive. I think the two of us were brought here to entertain the Baron de Villepin’s twenty-three-year-old son.”

  “Entertain? What do you mean?”

  “How should I know? But I hear he’s handsome and charming, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

  “Is he here yet?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Priscilla glanced around at some stunning women standing on the other side of the room and leaned in to whisper, “Have you ever seen such elegant ladies?”

  Mercy looked over at them and shook her head. “All four of them are astonishing. Especially the two dark ones who look so much alike.”

  “I’m surprised none of them are wearing white wigs. They are obviously the height of fashion, so hopefully that means wigs will be going out of style soon. I was worried the ladies here would look at our un-wigged heads and think we were country bumpkins.”

  Mercy continued to stare at them in awe. “The one with the black hair, are those real diamonds and pearls sown into her dress?”

  “I think so. She is the Countess D’Aubigne. She in only twenty-five and already an extravagantly wealthy widow.”

  “Her husband died? How sad.”

  “I don’t think she thinks it’s sad. I heard he was sixty years old or something.”

  “My father would never do such a thing to me.”

  “Mine either, thank God. My father likes my choice. He and Luke get along quite well.”

  “Luke seems easy to get along with.”

  “He is. And so are you. That is why I’ve chosen you to be my best friend and him to be my husband.”

  Mercy gave Priscilla an affectionate smile. “You think I am gentle and kind. I had no idea you could be so easily fooled.”

  Priscilla slapped her with her fan. “Oh, stop it.”

  Mercy giggled. “Has Luke proposed yet?”

  “Not officially. He has to go on a tour of the South for about a year, meeting with the cotton farmers and making deals for his textile business. He hinted that we could get married now and I could go with him, but I’ve only known him such a short time. I’m in no huge rush to get married. I told him I’ll wait for him.”

  “Waiting is hard,” she replied without thinking.

  “Not so hard.” Priscilla’s smile faded away and she leaned in. “I need to tell you something, Mercy. This afternoon as I was getting ready I heard a huge commotion coming from Cordelia’s room, so I went to investigate and Cordelia was screaming to her mother that she’d caught Daisy reading. In the south, slaves caught reading are whipped or even killed. It’s illegal according to a law passed in 1740. The person caught teaching them to read is fined one hundred dollars. Few can afford to pay that and the failure to pay has serious consequences. Anyway, Cordelia and her mother badgered the poor girl to confess who had taught her but she wouldn’t say, so they whipped her. Savagely. I tried to stop it and a few lashes landed on me until my father came in and put a stop to it.”

  Mercy reached out to grab the back of a chair to steady herself as she felt all the blood drain from her face. Priscilla nodded. “I have my answer. I had a feeling it was you who taught Daisy to read, but from your expression, I now know it was you. This is pretty serious, Mercy. What you did was against the law.”

  “It’s a stupid law.”

  “I agree.”

  “Daisy told me it was against the law but I didn’t believe her. I did some research and found out she told the truth. But the law makes no sense. Daisy is brilliant. She learned to read in a matter of weeks. A mind like hers should not be wasted.”

  “Again, I agree. I’m just giving you a warning that Cordelia and her mother are on the war path and I’m sure you will be questioned soon. Unfortunately, they do have the law on their side. I hate having them live with us. I wish they would go home. But let’s not talk about it anymore tonight.”

  Just then Governor Hancock approached them with a young man by his side. “Miss Creed, Miss Brown, I want you to meet Fabien Marceau.”

  The Governor proceeded to introduce them formally. Mercy smiled, the baron’s fair-haired son was indeed handsome. He took her by surprise when he brought her gloved hand to his lips and held it much longer than proper before leaning in to whisper, “ Enchanté, Mademoiselle .”

  He glanced at Priscilla and greeted her and then turned immediately back to Mercy and took her hand again. “Your hair looks like priceless gold, and your eyes—they’re amazing. You’re astonishing.”

  She was accustomed to flattery, but this was just too much. His devouring eyes flustered her. She mumbled, “Ummm. Thank you.”

  “Charmed,” he gushed. “I found myself anxious to meet American girls and you, my dear, have surpassed all my expectations.”

  She glanced up at Mr. Hancock pleadingly. How exactly was she supposed to entertain this young Frenchman when he would not let go of her?

  She twisted her hand out of his grasp, and trying to be polite asked, “Have you seen much of Boston yet?”

  “Yes. Lovely city. Have you ever been to Paris?”

  “No, but I would like to someday.”

  “Perhaps that can be arranged. I’d love to take you there,” he replied with a seductive grin.

  She fanned herself and looked away. What would Ian think of this character’s behavior? He would not be pleased.

  Thankfully, Mr. Hancock pulled him away. “You can speak with Miss Creed later, but first let me introduce you to Mr. Paul Revere. He’s a hero in our country.”

  The young Frenchman winked at Mercy over his shoulder as he was led away.

  Priscilla laughed and shook her head. “My word. I heard French men could be flattering, but I had no idea. Good thing you were here for him to fawn over. Luke wouldn’t like it a bit if he acted that way to me.”

  Mercy let out a deep sigh, fearing this would be a long night indeed.

  ****

  With a frustrated groan, Addison walked up the steps to Hancock Manor in a dark blue suit made of uncut velvet, and a white shirt with lace ruffles at the neck and sleeves. He’d compromised with Hancock by attending this dinner party, but he drew the line at wearing that ridiculous suit again. If Blanche, or whatever her name was, didn’t like this suit, then oh well.

  Entering the parlor, he felt every eye dart his way. Immediately, Hancock greeted him and took him to meet several gloriously arraye
d ladies who stared at him in open admiration which definitely made him uncomfortable.

  He tried his best to act like a gallant gentlemen when he met each of them. But when Hancock said with great drama, “And may I present The Countess D’Aubigne,” he could no longer hold the ruse. Against his will, he let out a little laugh when he saw the dark-haired beauty’s eager expression that looked like she wanted to devour him like a tasty treat.

  Her almost black eyes glimmered at him as she asked in heavily accented English, “And what may I ask is so amusing, Monsieur?”