Nothing could be certain until she met him again. Speculation was useless and even harmful at this point. She instinctively wiped her hands on the sides of her dress, took a deep breath and calmed her turbulent thoughts. Reading was impossible to do at the moment so she went outside for a brisk walk before breakfast.
Everyone lingered over the meal, which only furthered her frustration.
“Father, should we not hasten to be on the way?” she hinted hoping to prod him into action.
“My child, we have plenty of time. I trust the color to your cheeks is due to your morning exercise and not to impatience.”
Jasmine bit her lip and did not venture to say anything more. Her father, as always, was very astute and she did not want him to read any further. As soon as her family began to leave the table, she rushed upstairs to see that her trunk was attended to. Waiting outside for their appearance, with childlike anticipation she was the first one inside the carriage.
Clusters of trees on each side of the road adorned with wild violets tantalized her sensations. A small stream meandered as if to follow her progress. The soft droning sound of her father’s voice faded in the background as her imagination took over. It seemed a fairyland with wood elves peeking behind each tree. Any moment now she expected a unicorn to appear--white, regal, and glistening in the sun. Maybe the dark shadow of a menacing dragon could hover, for a moment, over him. She shivered in her delight.
They came upon the estate suddenly from a bend in the road. The three storied Georgian mansion dressed in tan stone sat on a slope surrounded by trees and flowering bushes. A brook winding its way around the house at the bottom of the hill finished its perfection. The beauty was natural, not manicured. Jasmine was enchanted and her admiration of Laurence grew.
As their coach pulled to a stop, they were met by the housekeeper, a slender, plain woman in her fifties who greeted them warmly. She proceeded to gave them a tour of the manor house. Jasmine’s parents seemed on familiar terms with the housekeeper, but her senses were too full to pay much attention at the time.
Everything revealed his fine taste: nothing was showy or gaudy. There was a masculine flare to the tapestry, drapes, furniture, and carpet. The colors were warm and perfectly blended together. Everything belonged in its place and there was no clutter, nor sense of crowding anywhere. Order and peace was the feeling one came away with. Even if the housekeeper put the rooms together, Laurence had to approve them. Jasmine was impressed beyond words. She had not thought him capable of fitting a house in a proper way; she believed a man would need a woman’s touch. Down crashed her barrier of bias. Captain Laurence only fascinated her more.
Even though the Bertram family arrived on time, they found the gentlemen had not. They declined refreshments and the servants escorted them upstairs. The sisters did not want to room alone and decided upon the same arrangements as home: Jasmine with Rose and Violet with Daisy.
Rose and Jasmine’s room had a small balcony facing the garden in the back of the house. It was a corner bedroom with windows all around: spacious and well lit with white-laced curtains and a large dressing area separated by an oriental screen. When Jasmine put her things down by her night table, she noticed a crystal bowl full of water. Tiny white jasmine flowers floated on top. She leaned over them, took a deep breath and smiled her pleasure. Her bed faced the garden. The other bed, next to the back wall, had a bowl full of tiny white rose buds. Both sisters sat on their beds and looked at each other with wonder in their eyes. What kind of man would go to such effort to please them? Who would have thought of such a thing? Even if she were hosting, she would have overlooked such a matter.
Jasmine opened the French windows and stood out on the balcony. A breeze from the garden blew the fragrance of roses towards her.
“Come and see how beautiful it is!” said Jasmine to her sister.
Rose was folding her gown in her arms as she joined her. They saw a massive, white, three-tiered fountain with a base wide enough to walk around. A rose garden with a flurry of colors, mixing to her delight, lay adjacent to it. A pathway in between the fountain and garden led to a maze full of well-trimmed, tight bushes that appeared to be shoulder high. White rose bushes surrounded the center of the circular maze. Both sisters let out a sigh at the same moment and laughed at each other over the timing of it.
After Jasmine put her things away, she grew restless.
“I think I’ll go downstairs for a bit.”
“Whatever you do, just stay out of trouble,” her sister sensibly replied.
Jasmine wanted to inspect the indoor arboretum. Encased in glass, accented with white wicker chairs and small tables; the trees, plants and flowers looked exotic. In the back far corner, hidden from the main entrance, she saw a gardener doing grafting work on hybrids. A side door opened out into the garden and she went in search of a servant for a basket and scissors. She inquired of the housekeeper.
“May I cut some roses in the garden and fill the vases in the dining room?” she asked sweetly.
“We have servants who would be happy to do it for you, Miss Bertram,” suggested the housekeeper smiling.
“Thank you very much, but I would prefer doing it,” Jasmine responded.
The housekeeper paused before she spoke to her in a familiar manner. “You were too young to remember me when I knew your parents. They rendered me a service I shall never forget. I am still indebted to them for your father recommended me for this position,” she said with misty eyes.
“I am sorry, I was distracted earlier when you were introduced. I have forgotten your name,” Jasmine said contritely.
“Bless you child! My name is Janice Strongberg and I am a widow. It was during the time of my husband’s death that your parents were my staunchest support.”
“I’m so glad you are here. I know you must be a blessing to Captain Laurence,” Jasmine said as she put a supporting hand on her arm.
Mrs. Strongberg wiped a tear from her eye as she led Jasmine to the dining room. She opened two large French doors out into the garden. It was not long before Jasmine had her basket full of long stemmed yellow roses. She was at the table trimming them, when a busy servant came in with a tray full of custard tarts. In his rush, he dropped one without noticing.
About this time, Laurence and his friends came in from the stables toward the house.
“Remember gentlemen…Jasmine is mine,” said Laurence firmly.
Something in his voice would have caused them to tremble if they had not been good friends. They had a brief moment of comprehending what his enemies experienced in the past. Any man foolish enough to underestimate him, paid for it with his life. Many Spaniards and Frenchmen had felt the bite of his sword in battle. None of his friends could match his skill with weapons. He was no man to trifle with.
“Don’t worry,” laughed Andrews, “after what you’ve told us about her archer’s ability, we fear approaching her.”
“Amen!” said Miles stoutly.
They came through the entrance with no fanfare and left their cloaks with the servants.
“Where is everyone?” inquired Laurence of Smith, the head valet.
“Your Lordship, I believe the whole family is upstairs in their rooms except for Miss Bertram who is in the dining room arranging flowers.”
A big smile spread over Laurence’s face as he turned to his friends. “Remember how I mentioned to you a few years back that I would never fall for a woman? Well, I retract every word, because I’ve fallen completely in love with Jasmine,” he confessed, unable to contain his joy.
He walked quietly to the dining room door with his friends right behind him. Jasmine was humming softly to herself. She wore a yellow flower printed frock and looked like springtime herself. Her hair was down, cascading to her waist, in shimmering waves.
“Jasmine!” he called out. She turned around and her joy was radiant. Laurence heard his friends catch their breath. He understood--she had that effect on him too.
“Meet my frie…” he said in mid-sentence and mid-stride. He slipped on the custard, falling flat on his back. He was breathless for a second and then began laughing hysterically. His friends could not contain themselves and doubled over in laughter.
Jasmine rushed to Laurence thinking he might have struck his head. Barefooted, as usual, she slipped on the custard and landed ungracefully on her stomach next to him.
Laurence was flat on his back with his knees drawn up and his arms around his stomach. “Gentlemen…this is Miss Bertram…the only woman…I have ever fallen for,” he said gasping for breath between his words.
Jasmine was still on her stomach, her head buried in her arms and her hair askew. She turned her head slightly to the left to look at him. He glanced sideways at her and they both began laughing as soon as they made eye contact.
“You’re the…only man…I’ve ever fallen…head over heels for,” she responded. “I beg your pardon,” she said looking at her feet, “no heels at the moment.”
They tried to stop laughing, but it only made matters worse. Jasmine attempted to get up and succeeded by sitting on the floor.
Laurence took one look at her and said, “You’re wearing a lovely shade of custard.”
“It was quite considerate of the cook to make the pastry match my dress,” she said dryly.
That set off the laughter and she fell helplessly back on her stomach again, only now she was laughing so hard that she accented them with an occasional “ouch.”
Rev. and Mrs. Bertram came downstairs to check out the commotion. They both had a feeling Jasmine would be in the middle of it and their premonition was correct. To the young men’s amazement, the vicar and his wife were not surprised. He examined the floor and declared solemnly: “I see that custard is the culprit of this most unseemly state of affairs.”
Bennett took the lead amidst the chuckles. “Come on, men! Let’s get the captain off the floor before his servants think him mad.”
Miles and Andrews each took a leg. They were both shorter than Bennett who held him up by his back. It was no small task, for Laurence was tall and muscular. His friends carried him out of the room and up the stairs in this most undignified squatting position. The custard stood out clearly on his dark pants. By this time, Jasmine had joined her parents as they watched Laurence on his journey.
“Oh, Rev. and Mrs. Bertram, I am sorry I could not make proper introductions. I shall do so later tonight,” he ended with a gale of laughter.
It found an echo in those watching below, but Jasmine’s chuckles died on her lips when she saw him rounding the stairs. This is not the portrait of a man most women adore. He had never appeared more undignified in his life, yet this was the vision of Laurence that won her heart.
“He’s my hero…my shining knight,” she said softly not knowing that she had spoken her thoughts aloud.
Her mother and father turned to her and smiled. “We understand your choice perfectly.”
Jasmine ran up the stairs to her room with her heart full of Laurence. She carefully took off her dress, positioning it on her bed with the stain proudly displayed, all the while narrating the tale for her sister.
Rose would have enjoyed it better if her sister had not acted in such a strange manner. She had never seen Jasmine sentimental before.
“Don’t you want to wash it?” asked Rose.
“No! I want to capture a moment I shall never forget,” she said with her eyes aglow.
“Your undergarment is also stained. Do you want to save that?”
Jasmine smiled with a dreamy look on her face and Rose rolled her eyes.
“To be in love…,” she murmured.
Jasmine changed quickly, but not for supper. She was full of energy. Looking out her window, she paused for a moment and then made up her mind. She rushed down the stairs, grabbed the scissors and basket, and ran outside free of constraints without shoes, hairpins, or bonnets to stifle her spirit. She was in her element.
“Look!” said Laurence with his face to the window, beckoning his friends to join him. “I’m convinced she is a gypsy at heart.”
“Well, that shouldn’t bother you since you’re half pirate,” replied Miles.
“What do you think of her?” he asked without taking his eyes off Jasmine.
They could not think of a suitable word since they had witnessed her beauty and clumsiness in a few brief moments. She seemed a complete contradiction of true femininity, yet she enchanted them nevertheless. They looked at each other and whispered as if needing a consensus. Andrews broke the silence. “She’s definitely a ten, Laurence. She is one of a kind.” He did not mean this as a pure compliment, since gracefulness was one of the qualities he esteemed in true femininity.
Laurence grinned as he turned around to look at them. “I agree with your judgment and taste. Now you know why I only gave the other women a five.”
“Are they all like her?” asked Miles a little intimidated.
“They are beautiful, but none of them are wild like her.”
“Thank goodness,” Miles sighed. He did not think wildness was an attractive quality as Laurence did.
“They are graceful,” he mused, “for none of them would have fallen on custard, and if they had, they certainly would not go back and lay on it again. She is rather clumsy, which I find endearing.”
Laurence’s friends looked out the window, sharing his delight as they watched Jasmine. She began clipping the head off the roses and filling her basket with different colors.
“Singular, quite odd,” commented Bennett.
“I’m in the dark--what is she doing? Is this some new feminine trend?” asked Miles scratching his head.
“I don’t like all this severing of buds. It reminds me of the guillotine,” said Andrews as he looked at the denuded forest.
Laurence chuckled. “They will all grow back. Pruning is a good thing,” he said coming to her defense.
Jasmine tested her fate by standing on the edge of the fountain.
“Bet you ten bob she’ll fall in,” said Miles to Andrews.
“You’re on!”
Miles thought he had a sure win since Laurence told them how clumsy she was, besides, they had the proof of their own eyes. Minutes went by and Jasmine kept her balance, much to his misfortune.
She began tossing the roses into the tiers of the fountain. It made a pretty picture for a man’s inner eye. Jasmine jumped down and called her sister under the window. Rose went out on the balcony and the three men rushed to the other window to commandeer a better view. They saw her pretty profile, but at a distance they wanted shortened.
“Rose, toss me a ribbon!”
“Why do you want one?” she countered.
“Don’t concern yourself why! Just toss me one.”
A pink ribbon came floating down to Jasmine. She caught it, ran back to the fountain, gathered her gown just above her knee and tied it with the ribbon. As if on signal, all three men turned their backs on the window and sat down on chairs.
Laurence was oblivious to their presence now; Jasmine mesmerized him. How he missed her these past three months! How he dreamed of seeing her like this! His eyes devoured the scene before him.
She stepped into the fountain and lifted her feet in between the roses. She was on a flowered pathway in paradise. She was lost in her world; Laurence was lost in her. She had the power to pull him into her realm of fancy. It was a natural process for him to succumb, for Laurence was a child of imagination too.
“Are you mad?” cried Rose from the balcony, bringing Jasmine out of her daydream. “Stop acting like a pagan and get ready for supper!”
Jasmine sighed as she heeded her sister’s sensible advice and got out of the water. She lowered her gown and ran back into the house.
Laurence was unaware his friends had quietly left the room. He was looking down replaying the scene and imagining her presence there again.
“Is that what love is like?” Miles asked uncertainly to his friends.
“I don’t know,” said Bennett thoughtfully, “but we could have waved our hands in front of his face and he would not have noticed.”
“Whatever he has…he has it bad,” volunteered Andrews.
The other two nodded and each man returned to his room to prepare for the evening. They were thinking similar thoughts as they dressed--no one in their group had ever fallen in love before. Would this change their relationships? Unsure how to respond, they rejoiced for his happiness, but at the same time felt threatened by the feminine form on their brotherhood. They did not realize the hand of doom would soon close upon their own hearts.
Agreeing to wear their dark navy-blue uniforms, they looked every inch the officers they were. Gathering at the foot of the stairs, they chatted nervously to each other as they waited for the family to make their appearance.
“Miles, you are sweating. Use your handkerchief before the family suspects you have yellow fever,” teased Laurence. He was the only one who felt at ease and used it to best advantage.
“I’ve never been to the West Indies in my life!” Miles frowned. “You don’t have to be smug about it,” he muttered to himself as he wiped his brow.
Andrews began tapping his foot.
“Impatient, or are you only nervous?” Laurence grinned, to which the tapping immediately ceased.
“How long have we been waiting?” asked Bennett.
“A mere ten minutes, I suppose.”
“I’m getting hungry,” ventured Andrews.
“Believe me, food will be the last thing on your mind when…” Laurence trailed off.
They heard movement and turned to see the Reverend and his wife descending the stairs. They were a handsome couple, but tonight love made them resplendent.
“They are still in love with each other,” whispered Bennett in disbelief.
The effect of this knowledge worked on his friends as it had on Laurence. Cynical walls crumbled in their minds. Love did its secret work of conquering.
“Have you fully recovered from your custard caper?” asked Rev. Bertram turning to Laurence as soon as the formalities of introductions were over.
He grinned and nodded his head. The vicar was always like that: breaking the ice, making people laugh, putting everyone at ease. His wife looked at him with adoring eyes. The men watched their silent signals and realized that the purest form of communication had no words.
“My eldest is late, as usual,” said Rev. Bertram with a sigh, “late getting started, and late showing up. My other daughters are ready; bless them! I have arranged that they descend one at a time, elegantly, and not bounding down the stairs like a herd of cows.”
A loud chuckle escaped Andrews. The men realized the vicar was different from any clergyman they had ever known. There was no starch, no primness in his manner; they felt completely at ease in his presence.
“Captain Laurence, I saw the magnificent arms displayed in your study. My eldest daughter paid particular attention to them. I suggest for safety sake, that you keep them under lock and key,” said Rev. Bertram dryly.
The laughter died on Bennett’s lips when he saw Rose coming down wearing a blue silk dress matching the color of her eyes. Small white rose buds adorned her hair. He could not take his eyes off her. He did not bow, nor offer his arm, but simply stood looking up at her. Laurence came to his rescue by making introductions and asked if Captain Bennett could escort her into supper. She nodded shyly and peeked at him through her long lashes. Bennett was captured completely.
Violet elegantly descended the stairs with a natural grace to her movements. She wore a burgundy colored gown accentuating her eyes. Andrews had never seen eyes of such color and felt he was falling in its depths. He was the clown of the group, but did not feel like jesting now. He offered his arm instinctively and she took it shyly as he guided her close to her sister.
Daisy came bounding down in a yellow frock, but slowed to a dignified pace at a glance from her mother. Miles bowed, grinned, and offered his arm. Of the new pairs, these two seemed the most comfortable together.
A few minutes went by and Jasmine rounded the top of the stairs. Her hair was up in elegant fashion with pink ribbons and white jasmine scattered throughout. The fragrance of her name enveloped her. She wore a light pink dress with satin ribbons crisscrossing around her slender waist. She had never looked lovelier. Laurence swallowed hard.
Jasmine waited at the bottom of the stairs for introductions, but Laurence just stood there looking down on her. Bennett returned his friend’s rescue by introducing himself and the other two men. A slight pressure on his elbow by Bennett roused Laurence back to the present. He offered Jasmine his arm, hoping she would not feel it tremble at the touch of her hand. If she felt anything, she did not show it.
They went into the dining room: the men sitting next to each other while the sisters sat opposite their escorts. They seemed a shy, quiet group. Rev. and Mrs. Bertram exchanged knowing glances.
Jasmine noticed how tall and lean Bennett was. He was almost as tall as Laurence, but more slender, his shoulders less broad. He had wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. His features were not classically handsome as Laurence’s were, but he had a pleasing face, sensitive and intelligent.
Andrews was the golden boy…with dark blond hair and light brown eyes. His complexion was darker than the rest. He was about the same height as her father. Whereas, Captain Bennett’s expressions were thoughtful and serious, Andrews’s features belied his mirth. Two prominent dimples were always on display whenever he laughed or smiled.
Miles was of average height. His hair had more red than brown in it. A few freckles charmingly clung to the bridge of his nose. His skin was fairer than the others were and his eyes were light blue, almost gray. He had a boyish look; frank and untainted. One front tooth was slightly crooked; she enjoyed watching him smile.
Jasmine was the only one who could look at the men openly. The rest of her sisters had their eyes cast down. The men’s eyes were full of the young ladies. Jasmine observed how they were taking them in and read admiration in their expressions.
For one brief second, the men made eye contact with each other. Jasmine watched them in fascination: they were communicating like her parents. Each man put one hand and then the other down, on both sides of their plate, with their fingers spread. Jasmine slanted her head like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Laurence’s quick wink temporarily satisfied her curious look, as if to say, “I’ll explain it to you later.”
A few minutes passed in silence before Mrs. Bertram inquired about their histories at sea. Here was now an ample source for conversation. Each man began lifting up the other’s exploits while diminishing their own importance. The Bertram family listened with delight and growing admiration. The sisters were getting their education of men. Having no brothers, the world of fellowship and heroism was new to them.
“Captain Andrews and I would not be at this table dining tonight if Captain Laurence had not saved our lives,” said Bennett.
Laurence shifted uncomfortably in his chair and kept his gaze down. He did not see the admiration in Jasmine’s eyes.
“Tell us more,” she pleaded. Asking his friends was the only way she had of knowing his history. She hoped they would provide the pieces of the puzzle; she knew he would never tell her. Laurence was not the kind of man who sounded his own horn.
Bennett was happy to oblige her. “It happened in late spring on an especially foggy morning in the Channel when we suddenly came upon a French frigate sacking a British merchant vessel. There were reports the Frogs had plundered a few of our ships. Laurence had been aboard a year, we were both nineteen and midshipmen. Andrews had just joined the crew and we picked him up in Portsmouth before embarking on our mission, which was to secure the English Channel. They had forty guns and we had the same, so it was a draw. Since neither captain wanted to blow the other one out of the water, we boarded the merchant vessel where it was hand to hand fighting.”
Bennett turned to Laurence, smiling. “He keeps his head in a battle yet fights like a wild man. None of us knows how he does it. It is as if he is in his element and all his senses are alive. I will not tell you how he dispatched the men who were trying to kill us, but let us say he had enough time and energy to take care of others. That’s how the three of us became friends.”
“Mind you, I’ve stopped counting the times he has saved my life. I think we all have,” said Andrews with true affection.
Jasmine’s eyes were shining. Her fancy, at a fevered pitch, had Laurence fighting three Frenchmen at once.
Now that the conversation had turned away from him, Laurence looked up and saw Jasmine’s expression. Knowing her imagination, he watched her with amusement. She could not have written without a deep understanding of people, often putting herself in their place and building a bridge to them.
“We don’t want to romanticize our lives. We have faced many more days of tedium when there were no adventures,” he said with a smile playing on his lips.
“Still, you were at sea and that’s adventure enough,” said Jasmine wistfully.
“How did Lt. Miles join the group?” Daisy curiously asked.
Now it was Laurence’s turn to talk and Miles to be uneasy. He would play it for all it was worth. He could not get even with Bennett, so Miles became the victim of his admiration. “That is the best one of all, Miss Daisy,” he drawled savoring every word.
Miles shot him a daggered gleam.
“We were part of a small squadron patrolling the Spanish coast. This incident occurred four years after the one Captain Bennett mentioned. It was September of 1801,” said Laurence setting the stage.
“The four of us were in the lead ship, Spartan. We had two other ship of the lines with us and were under the brilliant command of Commodore Stowe. We came against a squadron of four French ship of the lines. Our orders were to break through every blockade so our merchant vessels could get through. We were out-shipped, out-manned and outgunned. Again, a foggy morning worked in our favor; we spotted them before they noticed us. We were in perfect position to rake the lead vessel, and fired our guns at their stern blowing out the captain’s quarters. The gaping hole was partially below the water line, dooming them to sink. Commodore Stowe made a hard left to larboard, looping around the vessel, and we boarded her quickly. The mortally wounded captain knew his ship was sinking and had ordered the fuse lit on a barrel filled with gunpowder. He thought he could take a few Englishmen down with him to Davy Jones’ locker,” he said with a wink at Daisy.
“Well, Miles, who at the time was only a mere babe at seventeen, wanted to save the ship all by himself. The Frogs were jumping overboard, a fitting place for them to be, I might add. He finds the barrel which none of us had noticed and rolls it over to the side port. Mind you now, he is doing this while the fuse was still going. He pitches it overboard and it explodes in the water a few seconds later. He saved the life of every man on that vessel. We captured three ships as prizes and lost only five men in the process. We took over seven hundred prisoners,” he said as he looked at Miles with admiration.
“His courage turned the whole battle over to our side. By this time, Bennett, Andrews and I were lieutenants. We had taken midshipman Miles under our wings the year before, but after the battle, we took one look at each other and knew we wanted him in our fellowship. So, if we are keeping score on rescues, Miles has me outnumbered by many hundreds,” he said proudly.
Daniel’s face was scarlet by this time; Daisy looked at him aglow. When the men saw the respect in the sisters’ eyes, they were grateful to their friends who had praised them.
“Then you were with Nelson at Trafalgar! You were there for the greatest sea-battle of them all!” exclaimed Jasmine, unwilling to end the conversation.
The men stared at her in amazement. They expected men to care about such things, but not a woman.
“Jasmine is our historian. She should have been my firstborn son; she has always been fascinated by seamen, soldiers, and battles,” said Rev. Bertram with a wink in her direction.
Jasmine blushed but did not bow her head. She was proud of her love of heroism. Coquettish women, gossip, and games never filled her stories--history and acts of chivalry did.
“I remember reading the accounts in the paper,” she said with awe in her voice.
Andrews related the story as best he could. He knew his friend would say nothing about it.
“Captain Laurence was the only one who was in that battle. Captain Bennett and I were part of a troop transport off the waters of Sicily. Lt. Miles was in the Channel fleet. Laurence was always in demand because of his fighting and linguistic skills. Nelson was after Napoleon’s fleet and needed officers who knew both French and Spanish. His ship was the Temeraire, under Captain Harvey, in the Weather Division. He was following right behind Admiral Nelson’s flagship Victory, which as you know, encountered heavy losses. They went to their aid after the broadsides fired. Tied up in Redoutable’s rigging, they made a raft of man-of-wars never seen in battle before. I cannot tell you what he encountered nor how he fought; I can only add that he finished the day without serious injury.”
Laurence was uncomfortable about the subject. His memories were still raw. It had only been ten months since the battle of Trafalgar. After the intensity of the fight, he made his way back to land for shore leave. The severity of the battle and the death of Nelson still affected him. After Trafalgar, Laurence felt like a half-drowned man crawling back to land. He was completely exhausted. Several times, on that fateful October day, he missed a shot only a hair’s breath away. If a man had nine lives like a cat, he used up five of them in a few short hours. He received a commendation for his service and was promoted to captain. It was during this much-needed break from war that Laurence had met Jasmine; she seemed the right tonic for his illness.
Andrews studied Laurence’s face before he continued with the narrative. “Lord Nelson’s tactics were brilliant, we did not lose a ship that day. We have given Bonaparte a blow. His goal was to take the war to English soil…thank God for Nelson! Even though I believe it was Britain’s finest naval victory, I mourn his loss,” said Andrews sadly, looking at the other men who nodded. “He was our hero. He always will be.”
Jasmine looked at them with wonderment. These men were part of the history of her country. The invasion of Britain could have easily happened without men like them. Each one had played an important part in protecting her shores. Everything about the Battle of Trafalgar captured her imagination. She honored Laurence with a secret awe her sisters did not share, for they did not understand the nature of the battle nor what was truly at stake.
After supper, everyone was ushered to a large hall off the side of the arboretum where a grand piano drew their eyes. Each sister felt obligated to play, but wanted selfishly to dance. The struggle and silence lasted only a moment for their mother volunteered. She had never performed on a more beautiful instrument, her own pianoforte could hardly compare. Her execution was perfect and brought pleasure to all.
Laurence and Jasmine did not make polite conversation while dancing: she hardly had breath to dance, let alone speak. She felt a tightening in her chest and needed a little distance from Captain Laurence. His nearness was wreaking havoc in her heart. She had no idea she was causing equal devastation to him.
“Mother, let me play while you and father dance,” she said between numbers.
Her mother smiled her appreciation as Jasmine sat down with a sigh of relief. Her scheme of distancing herself did not work, however, for Laurence approached the piano looking at her so intensely that she had to lower her eyes in order to play coherently. He grabbed a chair and sat down next to her. She felt nervous and shaky, yet finished the number flawlessly. She congratulated herself on mastering control, but did so prematurely. On her third dance number, Laurence leaned over slightly and said, “Everything you do, you do to perfection.”
She blushed, her pulse quickened, but her playing she still had under command.
“I can only wonder how good you are at the things you haven’t tried yet.”
“Such as?” she asked nonchalantly.
He leaned closer and whispered, “kissing.”
Jasmine fumbled her note. The novelty of the mistake caused her family to stop dancing. She tried again, but to no avail. Rose sweetly sat next to her and took over the keys without a word. Bennett’s eyes were shining.
“I need a bit of fresh air,” she said as she got up and headed for the garden at a rapid pace.
Laurence was about to follow her when Rev. Bertram pulled him aside to the arboretum and said, “Do not pursue her. Give her time and space. Do not appear as a suitor. The way to my daughter’s heart is through respect and friendship. You are on the right course. Be patient.”
“Should I not see her again tonight, sir?” he asked.
“Just give her some time. If you want to keep an eye out for her, she is accident prone, why not stay here and watch?”
His reply amazed Laurence. He was not only giving his permission in pursuing his daughter, he was telling him how to do it. Laurence had never met anyone like him. Most fathers would have been protective and jealous. If he had a daughter, he would not handle it in the manner Jasmine’s father was doing so now.
Rev. Bertram observed Captain Laurence astutely. “I know you think I’m probably mad for giving you such advice, but I considered myself a good judge of character. I sense no false motive in you; I only see love for my daughter. I would lay my life down for her and because I know you would do the same, I trust you. Nevertheless, you are a man and men are easily tempted. Yet to counter it, my daughter is no temptress, no seductress. I trust her implicitly.”
Laurence realized he not only respected Rev. Bertram--he loved him. He loved him as he loved his father and admired him as he did Admiral Nelson. He felt bonded to him as he did with his closest friends. Rev. Bertram knew his secret heart and understood the kind of love he had for his daughter. His trust meant everything to him.
“I pray, sir, that I may never lose your faith in me or the respect of your daughter.”
Rev. Bertram smiled, put his hand on his shoulder for a moment, and left the room. Laurence promptly took his advice and found a chair in the shadows where he could watch Jasmine.
Earlier, Miles had brought up a betting proposal between the four men and sisters that before Miss Bertram retired for the night, her hair would be down and her shoes cast off. Jasmine had hardly been outside ten minutes before she lost the bet. Laurence chuckled to himself as he saw one shoe and then the other, discarded. She began to pull the hairpins and pink ribbons out of her hair until the dark brown mass fell over her shoulders and back. She had marked a trail clearly in her wake, her shoes and ribbons abandoned even as she walked. Laurence let out a deep sigh. He loved to observe her best like this when she was free from restraints.
He watched her unwind. She had been tense at the beginning, but became free and unguarded when she realized she would be left alone. She walked slowly around the fountain, touching the roses floating in the water, and swirled a few with her fingers until they were spinning. She sat on the edge of the fountain and looked up at the night sky. After a few moments, she chose a place on the grass and lay down with her hands behind her head. Looking up at the stars and moon, she let out a deep sigh of contentment.
Peace was returning to the troubled regions of her heart. The past few months had been a tumultuous ride for her emotions. Falling in love was a messy business. Her jumbled feelings interfered with the order of her mind, yet for all the chaos, she would not have traded one moment with Laurence for the world.
Jasmine was so still, he thought she had fallen asleep. He considered waking her, when he saw her get up and walk into the maze. At this point, she was lost to his view. Several minutes passed before he decided to follow her. He found her in the center. She turned when she heard someone approaching.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “Do you want to be alone?”
She nodded her head, and then shook it in reply. They could hear the music drifting out from an open window. He took both of her hands and spun her in a full circle. Jasmine looked up and saw the stars spinning above. This is what she had wanted…a partner in her escapades. How did he know? Could he read her mind?
She let go sooner than he expected, spun into a rose bush and groaned as he rushed to her.
“Don’t move or you’ll rip your dress,” he suggested.
“I don’t care!” she cried.
Laurence began to disengage her thorn by thorn. Jasmine felt uncomfortable by his nearness and touch and was highly mortified. As soon as she was free, she turned and walked away. It was only then that he noticed her limping.
“What happened?”
“I twisted my ankle when I collided with the rose bush.”
“Stay here. Do not move! I’ll be right back,” he commanded rather than requested. She made allowances for him, since he was a ship’s captain. By “do not move,” he meant, “don’t run,” she thought as she smiled.
Jasmine did something she would have never done in the past--she stayed and waited patiently for his return.
Laurence ran to a side door where the service room was and found a young girl there.
“Maid, what is your name?”
“Betty, your Lordship.”
“I need some strips of linen, Betty, to bind an ankle.”
She ran out of the room and came back in a few moments. Laurence eyed her carefully as he tested her integrity.
“If you keep your confidence, I promise you will be more than a parlor maid in my household.”
He did not want any gossip or speculation concerning an innocent occurrence.
“I give you my word, sir.”
Laurence returned to Jasmine and smiled when he saw her sitting on a bench.
“I’m pleased you did not run away. I am grateful you have an impediment to swift flight.”
“I shall give you more cause to rejoice, for I am not sure how to get out of this maze.”
How could she find her way in without knowing how to get out? Was this trait particular to Jasmine or did other women have the same problem? His curiosity got the better of him. “Is this common to you? Have you no inward compass?”
“Alas, I am afraid so. Often as a child, I would get lost in the woods.”
“Hmmm,” he said musing.
“When I was six, I remember father discussing with mother if they should attach a cow bell around my neck.”
He chuckled.
“I assume you never get lost,” she said.
“I suppose the necessity of knowing one’s bearings at sea improved my sense of direction.”
“I have always wondered how seafaring men accomplished that. I want to learn about charting one’s course by the stars.”
“Maybe at another time I could show you.”
“Truly? Will you?”
He nodded his head as he knelt in front of her, placed her injured foot on his leg and began to wrap it.
To hide her unease, she started to chatter. “You do this very well. Are you a doctor in disguise?”
“I have assisted our ship’s surgeon many times when we were short of hands.”
“Have you ever experienced aiding an injured woman before?”
“No, this is a first for me. I think with your record of clumsiness, I must brace myself for being in great demand,” he said dryly.
A smile lit up her face.
“Your ankles look graceful even though you are not.”
Jasmine chuckled affectionately.
“It will swell so I advise you to bathe it in cool salts.”
“Yes doctor,” she said contritely. She was slowly returning to a place of security and comfort, but it was short lived. Laurence had only begun his service to her. As she stood and gingerly put weight on her foot, he had her in his arms before she could protest and carried her back to the house as if she was a child. She hid her face on his shoulder in embarrassment. Everyone stopped dancing and rushed to them as they entered the room.
“Papa, mama,” she said like a little girl, “I fell into a rose bush and twisted my ankle.”
“Oh, that again!” exclaimed Daisy.
Miles noticed Jasmine’s bare feet. “Men, we have won the bet!” he proclaimed victoriously.
The sisters looked sadly at Jasmine as they shook their heads.
“I’ve attended her wound, so I’ll put her to bed,” said Laurence completely innocent of the implications of his words.
Jasmine, who was paying close attention, blushed even more. “You are not going to put me to bed!” she said imperiously, kicking her legs.
He held her more firmly and looked at her directly. He wore his “don’t fool with me” expression that his friends easily recognized. They had sense enough never to test Laurence when he was in that mood. Jasmine kept tempting fate by kicking her legs. They were the center of entertainment.
“All I want is for you to open the door of your room!” he ordered.
“I will not!” she said adamantly crossing her arms.
“I will!” volunteered Rose rushing ahead of them.
She opened the door as they ascended the stairs. Jasmine glared at her sister as she stood there, grinning. Rose was enjoying the scene immensely. Laurence gently laid her down on the bed and bid her goodnight. In her frustration, Jasmine threw her pillow at the closing door and heard his laughter on the other side.
Not wishing to receive the brunt of her sister’s wrath, Rose wisely decided to join the others. She smiled as she noticed Laurence’s friends patting him on his back. It had been a good night for him.
“Well, my son,” said Rev. Bertram affectionately, “I’m glad my daughter only had a pillow. We have both seen what deadlier weapons can do to suitors.”
Jasmine heard her father’s voice and knew they were laughing over something he had said. Her embarrassment was dissipating. She longed to join them again and wished she had not made such an ignoble exit. She sighed and dressed for bed. Even though her night was ending, she would not sleep for many hours.
It was eleven o’clock when the Bertram family began to settle in for the night. The men had only started their evening. They congregated in Laurence’s room, which in size was the duplicate of Jasmine and Rose’s room. The heavy dark green drapes were closed. Standing in the corner nearest his balcony, was a telescope. Several small paintings from his travels adorned his walls.
His friends sat on chairs in a leisurely fashion. Laurence was lying on his stomach in bed: his head resting on his folded arms. He felt like a volcano ready to blow. His valet came in to clean his discarded clothes and reached for his stained pants hanging on a chair.
“Leave the trousers! I don’t want them cleaned,” said Laurence firmly.
“Are we getting sentimental?” Andrews hinted, as the servant left the room.
Laurence smiled slightly but did not respond to him. “She’s driving me batty! I don’t know how much more I can take of her nearness and not have her be mine,” his voice laced in torment.
His friends glanced at each other uncertainly.
“She has no idea what she’s doing to me. She is wild and passionate like a gypsy. Imagine a minister’s daughter described in such a way! Yet she is good, sweet, and innocent. How can a woman be both?” he moaned.
Laurence was sinking fast--they had to do something to keep him afloat.
“At this rate, I’m a sure inmate for Bedlam. I am going mad; I am on the edge of it. What do I do now?” he asked desperately.
They had never witnessed him so weak before and looked at him sympathetically. Laurence saw their expression and understood. “None of you are indifferent to her sisters, are you?”
They avoided his challenging eyes.
“Maybe distance will help you. You know the old adage, Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” suggested Bennett.
“That won’t work!” he said exasperated. “I’ve been gone for three months already. I only got back this morning and I’m a raving lunatic by nightfall!”
Bennett had implied that distance would help Jasmine‘s heart grow fonder: Laurence was not thinking clearly.
There was no remedy for his lovesickness. No one could come up with a plan. Each man’s thoughts were preoccupied with the Bertram sisters.
After his friends left, Laurence tried to strategize but thoughts of Jasmine came through his distracted mind. He never had a problem concentrating before. Now it was a battleground and he was losing the fight. Even his logic was failing him. He did not know how to induce in Jasmine the same effect she was having on him. He tried to think of other things, but she was true north to the compass of his thoughts. He tossed and turned throughout the night not knowing that Jasmine was struggling with the same thing. He imagined her sleeping like an innocent child, but he could not have been more wrong. She spent the night in sleepless turmoil thinking of him.
No comments:
Post a Comment