Elizabeth Meyette - [Love's 01] by Love's Destiny Page A

a light skimming over. The two men, she suspected, would be up the better part of the night delving into discussion, perhaps plans, of a serious nature. Sensing their impatience, and noting Andrew’s yawns, she rose to retire. The men rose also, and she took Andrew’s arm and bade the other two good-night.
    Emily’s suspicions proved correct; Jonathon knew exactly where to go to learn the current state of affairs, and the two men joined others and lively discussion ensued. Unfair taxation by parliament in the Stamp Act and the Townshend Acts was the subject of animated debate, and some enthusiastically recalled the answer the colonies had given. The House of Burgesses, Virginia’s legislature, was bubbling with unrest and claiming their sole right to levy internal taxes. Thomas Jefferson was writing stirring essays on the God-given rights of man, a concept completely foreign to British rule. And the Royal Governor, Lord Dunmore, had again dissolved the Burgesses who reconvened in the conviviality of the Apollo Room at the Raleigh Tavern, whose motto was written on the mantel: Hilaritas sapientiae et bonae vitae proles (Jollity is the offspring of wisdom and good living). The vigorous debate lasted into the early hours of the morning.
    • • •
    Dawn was streaking the eastern sky when Emily awoke to a tapping on her door. “Wake up, Emily. We want to get an early start,” Andrew called softly.
    Emily washed and dressed, noting that the day was already warm and humid. She donned a light silk dress of palest blue with white lace at the bodice and elbow-length sleeves. Brushing her hair, she pulled it up in combs to keep it off her face and neck as much as possible.
    This was the day she would meet Jonathon’s family. All the doubts and fears that had kept her tossing and turning the night before crept over her again. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her skirts, straightened her shoulders, and went downstairs.
    They ate a hurried breakfast of cold ham, cornbread and fruit and soon were on the road. The countryside was still the flat, green land of the tidewater, but after a time it gave way to gently rolling hills.
    As Jonathon told them of plantation life and of his family, Emily’s nervousness increased with the miles. Jonathon pointed out places of interest and plantations of friends he had known all his life in this society of the gentleman planter. They stopped to dine at a quaint inn and again ate hurriedly, each anxious either to arrive or to get the dreaded moment over with.
    Emily noticed Jonathon’s silence after a while and, looking across at him, caught the intense scrutiny with which he was studying the landscape. His eyes glowed with pride, and she knew they had reached his land. For a moment she felt uncomfortable, like someone who has intruded on an intimate moment. But Jonathon turned shining eyes upon her and said simply, “We are home.”
    Finally the coach turned down a road, and Emily craned her neck to catch her first glimpse of Brentwood Manor. After a time, they broke out of the trees into a circular drive that curved gracefully along lush, green lawns and swept before a stately manor.
    Emily caught her breath. “Oh, it is beautiful,” she whispered.
    Jonathon beamed at her. “I knew you would like it, Emily.”
    Grinning from ear to ear, Andrew remarked, “You did not do it justice, Jonathon.”
    The three of them laughed remembering all the times he had described Brentwood Manor — always in superlatives.
    Majestic catalpa trees lined the drive and sculpted shrubs hugged the mansion. Made of red brick in the Flemish–bond style, it had two enormous chimneys equidistant from the center of the roof; a pair of large windows flanked either side of the central entrance and five smaller windows lined the upper story. A wing with a slightly lower roofline extended out from each end of the main structure. It was beautiful in its simplicity of design and bore an elegance of time and