The next morning, Laurence wanted to show everyone a piece of property he was particularly fond of and decided to make an outing of it. The young couples rode out on horseback while Jasmine and Laurence chose a carriage. Bennett, who led the others through the fields cross-country, had been instructed by his dear friend the night before to follow the brook to its source and take his sweet time about it.
Laurence went down a road unfamiliar to Jasmine and stopped at a little rocky knoll. A stream cascaded from its mouth and a group of willows stood like a conclave whispering secrets.
“How exquisite!” she exclaimed.
Laurence smiled at her exuberance. He had settled on the property because he knew it would bring her joy. He took out a large blanket and saw her moving in her seat. He cocked his eyebrow as if to say, ‘Don’t you dare get down!’ She obediently stopped her movement. Laurence walked up to the trees, spread the blanket, went back and lifted her in his arms.
“Captain Laurence, I think my ankle is better. I believe I can walk on my own.”
He proceeded as if he had not heard her and carried her to the top of the knoll. From that vantage point she could see a small wooded area to the left of the hill and the stream on its way to the sea enriching the lush farmland. The sun’s rays broke through the clouds and capriciously graced the earth with vibrant colors. As he set her down on the blanket, he whispered, “’Tis a fairyland, do you like it?”
“I love it!” she said with feeling.
She leaned back against a willow tree and sighed. She loved their long green boughs moving to every touch of the breeze. It felt as if they were caressing her. It was an elfish, dryad kind of tree. “A willow was the first tree I ever climbed as a child. I used to hide in them to escape from boys when I grew older.”
Laurence smiled at the picture. “Were your sisters chased? Did they hide with you?”
“No, Rose and Violet were home bodies. I received more notice because I was outdoors so often. When I turned sixteen, invitations of all sorts started pouring in, though I was not officially out until the next year. Rose has turned down her share of invitations as I have, but Violet and Daisy are not out in society yet. I do not suppose if it would make much difference. None of them have an aversion to men, as I do.”
Laurence grinned at her frank admission.
“It’s strange…I like them as long as they leave me alone. I actually grew up envious of your gender and wanted a boy for a playmate. I tried to make friends with one when I was ten years old, but he did not seem interested in friendship. He kept trying to grab my hand, so I got rid of him by pushing him into the Lym.”
He could see her doing something like that. “It must be convenient to have a river running through your village.”
She smiled affectionately at him. “My mother tried her best to make a lady out of me. We had deportment lessons, which I hated. I would rather read the books than balance them on my head. Who cared about being poised? I ran when I should have walked; I would rather have my shoes off, than on. Boys have been chasing me since I was twelve, which may help you understand why I am so weary of your gender. I used trees as my protection, for no boy thought I would be in them. I remember one persistent fellow actually stopping at my tree. He leaned against it, catching his breath, and never bothered looking up,” she chuckled.
“Are you still hiding from suitors that way?” he teased.
“No, I’m like Artemis, in the woods, hunting the unsuspecting with bow and arrows,” she said dryly.
He leaned close and looked into her eyes. “I would have compared you to Aphrodite instead.”
He was getting too serious and suggestive for her comfort. “I never liked Aphrodite. Who wants to be the ‘goddess of love?’ I would rather be Athena--the goddess of wisdom. Believe me, wisdom is needed when dealing with suitors.”
Laurence chuckled at her cleverness; she was good at diversion.
“I still climb trees but not to escape from them. Remember our little pond with the bridge over it?”
He nodded.
“On the opposite side of the pond there is a beautiful willow tree with a long thick branch running parallel to the ground. Do you recall it?”
He nodded again.
“Well, the branch is low enough for me to sit upon in ladylike fashion. I read a new book there whenever I can. It is my favorite place next to the bluff by the sea.”
“How long has the bluff been special to you?”
“Since I was a little girl. I would rather be there looking out to sea than anywhere else. When I was younger, my father would only allow me to look at the ocean from the church grounds but it was never close enough to the water for me. As I grew older, he would let me walk on the Cobb unattended, only in fair weather, of course. The ship with the wind in its sails affected me--the vessel anchored at harbor held no magic. I kept imagining I was out there having adventures. I began writing seriously when I was fourteen but always with a sea captain or pirate in my tale.”
Jasmine saw Laurence smile, lost in his thoughts. She guessed rightly that he was imagining what she looked like as a little girl staring out at sea with her bare feet and wind-tossed hair.
By this time, the others had arrived and everyone helped unload the carriage. They were a merry group as they sat down to eat. Bennett produced The Sonnets and Laurence did not even frown. Before the transformation Jasmine had wrought in him, Shakespeare’s poetry had been anathema. Now he read them voraciously, and even knew some by heart.
“Shall we recite our favorite ones?” suggested Bennett.
Laurence needed no prompting or book.
When in disgrace with fortune and man’s eyes,
I alone beweep my out-cast state.
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
and look upon myself and curse my fate.
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, featured like him,
like him with friends possessed,
desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope
with what I most enjoy, contented least;
yet in these thoughts myself almost despising.
Haply I think on thee and then my state
like to the lark at break of day
arising from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
for thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,
that then I scorn to change my state with kings.
One single tear fell down Jasmine’s cheek as she quoted her own.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments;
love is not love which alters when it alterations finds,
or bends with the remover to remove…
Oh no, it is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempest
and is never shaken.
It is the star to every wandering bark, whose worth’s unknown,
although his height be taken.
Loves not times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
within his bending sickle’s compass come;
love alters not with his brief hours or weeks
but bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
They were alone in their own world. The others sensed it and each couple quietly made their way down the hill.
Laurence sighed, stretched out on the blanket, and yawned.
“Pardon me,” he said tiredly, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Jasmine smiled to herself--she had not slept well either.
Laurence put an arm under his head and closed his eyes. She looked at him for a moment, and then shyly said, “If you want, you may rest your head on my lap.”
His eyes flew opened and he raised himself on his elbow. “Are you sure? I may really fall asleep on you.”
She nodded and smiled. Laurence rested his head on her lap surprised how soft it was. He let out a deep sigh of contentment.
“This is better than a pillow any day,” he closed his eyes, smiling.
Jasmine giggled. “Before you sleep, sir, I have a question for you.”
“Ask on, my lady,” he said without opening his eyes.
“Did you have roses and jasmine sent to our room or was it done by a servant on their own initiative?” she asked thinking of Mrs. Strongberg.
“I had it done,” he said truthfully.
“How did you know Rose and I shared a room?”
“I wrote to your father inquiring about sleeping arrangements.”
“Did you furnish the house and arrange the rooms, or was it done by a decorator?”
“I drafted it myself.”
“Are you always so perfect in detail?”
As Jasmine concentrated on her questions and his answers, she had unconsciously been touching his hair. As soon as Laurence opened his eyes, she realized what she was doing and blushed. She removed her hand, but Laurence recaptured it and guided it back to his hair.
“Please, don’t stop. It is very soothing. Now, to get back to your last question, the answer is yes. I see the house as a ship and fields as the sea. I cannot master the wind and waves, but I can bring an order to the harvest profiting everyone who had a hand in it. I cannot control the effects of salt and rot on a vessel, but I can outfit my house so it has the same balance one finds on board ship. I hope to be as detailed on land as I am at sea.”
Laurence’s point of view fascinated her. She would never have compared a house to a ship, or land to the sea. She was silent for a moment, and then remembered something at the dinner table. “I’m curious why you looked at each other during supper and spread your hands on each side of your plate. Was it some kind of signal?”
Laurence sighed. He did not want to tell her. He hoped she had forgotten. In his position of vulnerability, he was glad she had nothing in her hand. Since he could not explain what she saw without telling her about the game, he got over it as soon as possible. His face flushed with embarrassment as he considered a woman’s reaction. Now he realized how silly the whole thing was. She was silent so long he was concerned he had hurt her. He kept his eyes closed during the whole recital, now he opened them.
“So, ten fingers means surrender?” she said slowly as if talking to herself.
His pulse began to quicken when he realized she had both her hands in his hair. Jasmine did not need a weapon--her hands were dangerous enough.
“Does surrender mean my sisters and I have won hands down, or rather should I say, hands up? That is the picture of surrender, isn’t it…when a man has his hands up?”
Laurence looked up at her spellbound, fascinated by a pulse beat under the skin of her neck. He already felt conquered.
“I should be outraged for my gender, but I forgive you. Your thoughtfulness with the flowers in our room has granted you clemency.”
“If the flowers had not been there, how would you have gotten even?” he asked curiously.
Her only reply was a tightened grip on his hair. Her dangerous glance delighted him. He wanted no gentle, tame wife: he desired a gypsy. He knew she was the only woman he could ever marry. If his father loved his mother as he loved Jasmine, he understood why he died so young. He could not live without her.
She slackened her hold. “You know, if you had not been a sea captain, I wouldn’t have given you a moment’s notice. I would have grabbed the paper, ran, and left my things on the sand.”
“And I would have gathered them up and inquired whom they belonged to,” he replied grinning.
“Why?” she asked curiously. “I know you don’t like women. You did not even know me. Why would you have bothered? Was it because you had the page in the first place? Did you feel obligated somehow?”
“It wasn’t the paper I valued, but what was written on it.”
“What was written on it?”
Laurence quoted the passage from heart and Jasmine blushed.
“If I had read some rubbish, I would have thrown it away, turned my back, and never looked down the bluff. You do not know how much your words affected me. It was about men I have known all my life. I could not have expressed it better myself. It fascinated me that a woman had written it. I had to find out who she was.”
He could tell Jasmine was about to ask another question and felt he was headed toward dangerous waters. He did not want to tell her how long he looked at her, nor the effect she had on him from the beginning. He would be truthful if she asked--that was what their friendship meant to him. He had to outmaneuver her into not asking the question.
“I see the trait you possess from your fair sex is an abundance of curiosity and questions,” he said dryly.
Jasmine sighed and bit her lip; Laurence smiled and closed his eyes. “Now, if you have nothing further to ask, I would like to sleep.”
Jasmine looked down on him and studied his face. His cheeks were lean and his forehead denoted intelligence. His chin had a slight indent and she was tempted to trace it. He had just the kind of look any hero would have. He was dashing and gallant, his character matching his appearance. She had no difficulty imagining him in command of a ship; he seemed born for it.
She had seen him wear so many expressions: now he seemed like a young boy with cares vanished away, and innocence marking his features. She gently ran her hand through his hair and began twirling a curl around her finger. He let out another deep sigh and smiled. She was glad he wore his hair long, tied back in a queue, and not in the new short Napoleonic style, that was the rage on the Continent. Many men in Britain resisted the trend, especially in the navy, since it was still a sign of distinction to wear it long. His friends wore their hair like him. She remembered how silly she thought Sir George looked when he cut his hair in the latest fashion.
She took the ribbon off and sprayed his hair on her lap. It was beautiful like everything else about him. His hair was wavy, thick and soft. When his breathing changed, she knew he had fallen asleep. She began humming her favorite tune and the peace in him surrounded her as she rested her head against the tree.
After a while, the couples made their way back up the hill and saw Laurence sleeping with his head in Jasmine’s lap. She was asleep with one hand resting on his chest and the other lost in his hair. Each couple discretely turned away.
Miles walked with Daisy in the meadow among the horses, while Violet and Andrews headed toward a wooded trail. He was making her laugh and her shyness toward him was evaporating. Bennett and Rose were both on their backs, side by side with their feet in the brook, taking turns reading from The Sonnets.
By the time Jasmine stirred and Laurence responded, the others had been gone almost an hour. For a brief second, he did not know where he was. When he realized his head was still on her lap, he wanted to rest there forever. He could not take liberties; she was not his wife. He raised his head, but felt pressure on his chest.
“Don’t get up just yet. It is very soothing,” she said smiling. Jasmine was reluctant to have him leave. She did not know if this would ever happen again. She chided herself for having fallen asleep and missing the chance of watching him.
Laurence sighed deeply. If the lady did not feel any imposition, then he could rest in the fact that he had done his duty. He was happy to comply. Now that he could surrender to bliss, he had his own questions to ask. “I’ve been curious about this since I first met your family…do your parents ever argue with each other?”
Laurence was not interested in gossip. He had never seen a good example of marriage before, and had a hunger to know what made healthy relationships. Jasmine caressed his hair again and thought back to another time.
“I asked my mother the same question when I was fifteen. I had just witnessed a polite argument between a husband and wife in a shop. My mother told me when they were first married that she would disagree with my father, and was perturbed when he did not respond to her. Past suitors who conceded to her only increased her desire to win. Of course, if my mother were truly upset, he would listen and gently counsel her. When their disagreements were of a lighter nature, my father never joined in. One day, she was so frustrated; she baited him to get a reaction. He grabbed and kissed her hard and that is how he won all the time. Whenever she wants affection, she gets a moment away with him and begins to argue. It has become a game with them. I can’t tell you how many times we would turn around and find our parents behind a tree somewhere.”
Laurence laughed with delight. “Your father is a very wise man. I will also store this for future reference.”
“You may find it amusing but it has caused me no small embarrassment, especially when I was younger and my friends were walking with me.”
Laurence smiled. Jasmine thought he was in jest. She had no idea he hoped to use this method on her some day. She was wild and headstrong. He had been wondering how he could manage her combative nature. Now he had a clue: Jasmine supplied him with a weapon. How clever of Rev. Bertram to end every argument with a kiss! If more couples did so, there would be happier marriages.
He noticed his hair askew. “I think you may have a hair fetish along with the foot one,” he said dryly.
She giggled. “You cannot know how bothersome hairpins are! I believe hair is best when it is natural, the way God intended. I think the same about feet; we should be natural there, also.”
Laurence grinned at his thoughts. She was leaving herself wide open for baiting and teasing, but she was too naive to realize it. God also created man and woman natural in all their glory, but he did not say anything aloud. He remembered the affect a simple word like “kissing” had done to her concentration at the piano.
He got up and assisted Jasmine to stand, which she found difficult to do. “My legs have gone to sleep.”
Laurence knew she would be in worse pain if she did not get circulation. Holding her tightly by the waist, he almost lifted her as they walked.
“I’m sorry…it’s going to feel like pins and needles,” he lamented. “I’ll never do such a thing again.”
Even though Jasmine was wincing, she wanted to reassure him. “The peace I saw on your face, as you slept, was worth any price.”
She glanced over at Rose and Bennett, who were engrossed in conversation. Her sister’s eyes were shining while Bennett was speaking.
“Do you think they are in love?” Jasmine asked in wonder looking up at Laurence.
“I cannot speak for your sister, of course, but Bennett is smitten. I’ve known him for ten years and I’ve never seen him this animated before.”
“But they have only known each other two days!” she said incredulous.
Sometimes one is all you need, he thought to himself. The breeze blew his hair in his eyes. “Where’s that drat ribbon?” He said as he moved toward the blanket, exasperated.
“Let me to fix it for you,” she suggested.
“Allow a woman who has a hair fetish and pulls hairpins out as soon as she can, fix my hair for me? You must be mad!” he said impishly.
She chuckled but was perilous in her desire. “Kneel down,” she commanded. “You are too tall for me.”
She had possession of the ribbon; Laurence was not going to get it.
“You command me as if you were a sea captain,” he said dryly.
“You should feel complimented by your influence over me. Please kneel.”
“Is this the position you prefer for men?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her as she smiled.
“This is very uncomfortable for me,” he said honestly, making his last attempt to get out of it.
“Each of us has our discomforts,” she said unsympathetically. “Mine is being carried all over the place when I can clearly walk.”
“Touché!” said Laurence gallantly, remembering her father’s example.
He reluctantly got down on his knees and automatically gathered his hair, but Jasmine moved his hand away. Her touch was gentle; he began to relax. He could tell she was enjoying herself, as she hummed her favorite tune. The song had a special meaning for him since he was a little boy. Mrs. Elm sang Greensleeves whenever she made pies. He thought it odd but the song always brought him comfort.
He glanced over at Bennett and Rose who were too enamored to notice him. The other couples were some distance away. He grew more at ease. He did not want his friends to see how quickly Jasmine had unmanned him. He could not believe he was on his knees before a woman fixing his hair, but he was enjoying it far more than he wanted to admit.
“There! You may stand. It is done,” she said with pride.
She stepped back looking at him more fully.
Laurence watched her closely; she seemed complacent and smug. Wanting to ruffle her feathers, he took a step closer and lowered his face. “Do you think I’m handsome?” he asked wickedly.
Her mouth flew open at his audacity. Who does he think he is? She wondered.
“Remember…we are friends sworn to tell the truth,” he reminded her.
Flushed in frustration, she decided to counterattack. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
He stopped smiling and took her face in his hands as his eyes went slowly over every part.
“I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Eve must have looked like you.”
Jasmine’s heart pounded as she closed her eyes in confusion. How could he remain so calm and unflustered? She pulled away, breathing heavily.
“Besides, your question was an evasion; you have yet to answer mine.”
Was he always like that? Would it always be impossible to get away? He was like a tiger never letting go until he got what he wanted. Her frustration grew. It looked like he had her cornered, but she would not let him get the better of her. She grew calm and gained her composure. “Sit down, please; you are too tall for me to look at properly.”
He sat down curiously. She knelt next to him and looked at his face as he had done with hers. Laurence was enchanted and completely unprepared for her response. A smile played on her lips. She was in control and they both knew it. “You are so handsome, you take my breath away.”
Now Laurence was having trouble breathing.
“I love the way that one curl falls in your eyes,” she said touching it gently with her finger. “I love the depth of your eyes and the leanness of your cheek.” She tenderly stroked the side of his face.
Laurence trembled. “Jasmine, you’ve proven your point. You don’t have to tell me anything more.”
“To ask me such a question was wicked, and you know it. Now, I am going to be naughty and continue. I’m going to teach you a lesson: if you start something with me, I’ll finish it,” she said firmly.
Laurence had to stop her. He felt control slowly slipping away from him. “Jasmine, you’re right. I should have never asked you such a thing. I have spent my whole life surrounded by men; I do not pretend to understand women.”
Her eyes softened with compassion.
“I don’t know how to react with you, but I’m learning.”
His honesty and humility melted her heart. He knew instinctively what to say to stop her.
The returning couples saw Laurence stand up unsteadily. It was obvious by the hue on his cheeks that he was not in command of their conversation. The men looked upon Jasmine with greater respect.
Clouds were gathering and the weather was becoming uncertain. They could no longer linger, though no one wanted to leave. Laurence and Jasmine rode back to the house in silence, each one lost in their thoughts.
After dropping her at the front door, he took the carriage around to the stables. When he arrived at the house, she was nowhere in sight. He retired to his room needing a few hours before supper to recover his composure. He lay on his bed, with his hands under his head, looking up at the ceiling. He could hear the laughter and comments of the other couples as they made their way upstairs. Someone paused at his door, but whoever it was walked away. He guessed it was Bennett; he would find time for him later.
He closed his eyes and imagined laying his head on her lap again. He knew how to control a ship and command men, but he was out of his element with her. He saw a passion in her equal to his own. He did not think such a thing was possible in any female. He was learning quickly. Jasmine was not teaching him about women; that subject bored him. She was instructing him about herself; a study he hoped to major in. He grinned at his thoughts--he had always been a good student.
Jasmine had just finished her bath when her sister came in. Rose promptly took her turn. Jasmine was in her dressing gown, lying on her stomach in bed, watching her sister wash her hair.
“What do you think of Captain Bennett?” she asked as the maid poured warm water over Rose’s hair.
“I like him,” she admitted.
This was new territory for the sisters. They were close but had never talked much concerning men--not being in company with them, they had little experience to go by. Shyly she approached the subject.
“Are you attracted because he’s a captain?” Jasmine probed.
“I don’t think so. His profession has little meaning to me. I like the kind of man he is: stable, thoughtful, wise and considerate.”
The maid discretely left their room.
Jasmine sighed as she turned over on her back. It mattered to her that Laurence was a sea captain--it was part his mystery. She had never let down her guard and permitted a man into her life before. Now Laurence was her trusted friend. He was more than a friend. “I love him so much! I don’t know what to do.”
Jasmine was not one given to outbursts. Her confession took Rose by surprise.
“Do you believe he cares for you?” she asked gently.
“I think he’s fond of me as a friend. He teases and provokes me, yet in my heart, I know he can never love any woman. He loves the sea--no woman can take him away from it. He told me so and I believe him. If I had the power to accomplish it, I would never do so. I love him the way he is. I would not come between him and his only passion. I have resigned myself to being single. I see us growing old and gray; he will come and visit me and talk about his adventures.”
She smiled at her sister’s overactive imagination. Jasmine often brought fantasies into her realities. She put on her dressing gown and began drying her hair with a towel.
“My one consolation is his friendship. Six months ago, I didn’t have that--so I’ll be thankful for what I have.”
Jasmine’s tears adorned her words, cutting Rose to the heart. She sat on her sister’s bed and put a loving arm around her. She was also developing feelings for Captain Bennett. Her simple life was so complicated now. Jasmine was torn between love and resignation; living and dying. Rose could not imagine herself going through such pain. She did not speak another word but a silent bond wove itself around them.
A tap on the door brought the maid in to fix Jasmine’s hair. Her annoyance was evident in her sigh. Why must the mundane things of life interfere with the dramatic?
During supper, Rev. Bertram meandered down the trail of his daughter’s childhood habits and idiosyncrasies, much to the gentlemen’s delight.
“Daisy is my little equestrian. She has had her hard landings but she came by them honestly. I once found her attaching a pillow, I will not mention where, but I do not think it helped at all.”
His youngest daughter bit her lip in embarrassment.
“Violet was so mild I can hardly remember an incident…” he wandered.
“Dearest, how can you be so shortsighted? Recall when she strung wild flowers mixed in with hemlock,” his wife supplied.
Violet colored and hung her head in shame while Andrews hid his smile behind his napkin.
“Ah, yes. What an ordeal that was, poor dear. How patiently she sat through my whole lecture on botany!”
Bennett was about to inquire about Rose but he did not have to disguise his interest. Her father came to his rescue.
“One day I remember going over the accounts in my study and found fresh little handprints all over the wall, made from my own ink, no less. I am sorry to tell you that I could not identify the culprit immediately because all my daughters were quite capable of the crime, except Daisy, who was only crawling at the time.”
“Who did it?” asked Miles curiously.
“That’s what I had to find out. Considering their tender ages, I could not convene the inquisition, so I did the next best thing by inspecting all their hands.”
“Rev. Bertram, I suggest you tell us who the vandal was or Miles will lay odds on it,” said Laurence dryly.
“Quite right! Mustn’t delay. My Rosebud was the guilty party. You may imagine that I gave her plenty of paper afterwards--she has taken to art admirably.”
“I suppose your eldest was angelic,” hinted Laurence much to Jasmine’s chagrin.
“Ah, where to begin? I could write a book…” he stopped abruptly as his wife hit his knee under the table. He glared at her and boldly continued. “My daughter has long had a fascination with the sea. The first incident I recall was when she was only two. We were enjoying a sunny day by the shore. She headed straight for the water as soon as my back was turned, slipped in the sand, and fell face down in the surf. Such a thing would frighten any child, but not her. Instead of crying, she giggled and wanted to get right back in. It is a wonderment they survived childhood. Their guardian angels must be exhausted by now,” he said.
Andrews sipping wine, wholly unprepared for his comment, began coughing as he swallowed the wrong way. He always admired a man of humor and looked at Rev. Bertram with deep appreciation.
“Some habits still cling to them,” he said winking at his eldest. “I pity the man who marries her, unless he is rich and can keep her in shoes and bonnets.”
Jasmine blushed but was undaunted. “I would pity him too, father, for all my breaking of codes would turn a man’s hair gray within a fortnight!” she retorted.
He turned to Laurence and said, “Her rapier is sharp and she is in fine form this evening.”
Rose volunteered information. “Ever since my sister was twelve years old, she would pull out her hairpins and escape boys by climbing and hiding in trees.”
“I see running away from the male sex has been a lifelong habit with you,” teased Laurence.
Jasmine’s hue deepened.
“One day when you were about fifteen,” said Rose turning to her, “I saw Frank Carver walking down the road picking up hairpins trying to find you.”
Jasmine’s mouth flew open and her eyes grew wide. “Frank Carver? I didn’t know he liked me!” she said in disgust.
“As you can see, gentlemen, my daughter has left a trail of bleeding hearts along with her hairpins,” finished Rev. Bertram.
Laurence smiled. The picture of a young Jasmine running with hairpins flying out of her hair amused him. He had extra fodder for teasing: a mystery making her different from any other woman. He had something new in her to love.
The gentlemen, eager to know more, asked polite questions about their education and hobbies. Before the evening was over, they found out the young ladies had grown up in a unique fashion. Each of them spoke four languages and knew history, mathematics, and science. They were free to pursue any passion they had for learning, and read the classics in both Latin and Greek. Jasmine had the greatest aptitude for learning, and though her sisters were intelligent, she had brilliance. Each one had ceased their formal education at eighteen, except Jasmine, who commandeered as much of her father’s time as she could to study a new love--Hebrew. She desired to read the Old Testament in its original language.
Rev. Bertram decided when they were infants that he would educate them as well as any man in Britain. He wanted his daughters to access the broader world around them, not live, and think in the narrow restrictions conferred on women. He knew his views were radical. He could not alter the world around him, but he could change his own private world--the lives of his daughters.
“I realized what I was doing would be frowned upon by society. A little music, art, and language would have sufficed, but that was not good enough for me. I did not want them growing up with the veneer of what was acceptable to others. I wanted them to be able to converse with any one and hold their ground. I knew they might intimidate any suitors who showed them interest, but it was a risk I had to take,” said Rev. Bertram soberly.
Jasmine knew they had been raise differently. She did not realize it at first until she began making friends with other girls in the village. She wanted to discuss a difficult passage in Plato; they wanted to talk about new patterns for dresses. She had only a few friends growing up and could not relate to most of the girls she knew.
Her father challenged her intellectually by posing problems which took her days to figure out, and trained her mind toward logic and analytical thinking. She often talked to him about his life at Oxford. As a woman, she realized many venues were beyond her reach. Her intense desires met its walls of frustration. She knew she could not expect a better education than the one she was receiving. As she grew older, she learned to be content.
Jasmine turned to her father with a heart full of gratitude. He had been a busy man during their formative years, teaching four daughters with the pressures of ministry combined. “I shall never cease thanking you for raising me as you have,” she said to him with tears in her eyes.
Rev. Bertram gave her a misty smile. His labor had not been in vain. He was proud of his daughters and the choices they made. He had invested his life so that they would be strength to any man. Now he prayed they would have the wisdom to choose the right partner in life. They were wealthy and could live independently if they so desired. He only wanted them fulfilled and happy.
After supper, Jasmine sought Laurence out but could not find him anywhere. She waited in the arboretum for a while and then went upstairs to her room. Since Rose was already sleeping, she opened her door to go out again, but closed it a crack when she saw Bennett leaving Laurence’s room.
“Don’t worry Chris, you’ll be fine,” he said sounding like an advisor.
The comment intrigued her. Of what could they have been speaking? She saw Bennett walk to his room as Laurence turned to go downstairs. She waited until he reached the bottom of the stairs before whispering his name. He looked up, smiled, and waited for her.
“This may not be a good moment to catch you but I wanted to talk to you since we may not have time tomorrow,” she said shyly.
“Let’s go outdoors and sit on a bench. It’s a lovely night,” he said reaching for her hand.
She would have rather stayed inside and hesitated as he led her to the door.
“A true fairy or dryad would never be afraid of the effects of a full moon,” he teased.
“Of course not!” she said lightly as she followed him outside.
When they sat down, Laurence waited patiently for her to start. She was quiet for a while but he did not mind; he loved being with her.
“Were you shocked by what my father said about our education?” she asked curiously.
“No. I think it is a wonderful thing. I admire your father exceedingly.”
“You’re not intimidated by what we know?” she asked surprise.
“Not in the slightest. I think one of the most attractive things in a woman is intelligence. Of course, it would be nice if she is pleasing to the eyes, but that is not the main issue. Outward beauty will crumble with age. The mind and soul make the woman, not her dress. Intelligence can capture me forever.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened with disbelief.
“Did you think I’d be intimidated or repulsed?”
She nodded her head and cast her eyes down in embarrassment.
“Jasmine, I am not some ignorant seaman who can barely read or write. I was educated at Eton and Oxford and spent my early years on the Continent. I can probably match you in any language. Would you prefer conversing in French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian…shall I go on?”
She shook her head and looked at him with adoring eyes. She had met her match. Actually, Laurence was more than her match--he was her superior. Her nature differed from her sisters in this respect: they could love and marry men who did not surpass them…she could not.
“I thought you grew up poor and had to make your way in the world.”
“My father was a sea captain and I lived quite comfortably. I do not recall being in want of any necessity. I was twelve years old when he died, and then I lived with my uncle. He was a wealthy man and provided me an excellent education, for which I am grateful. In my third year, when I was eighteen, I left Oxford to join His Majesty’s Navy. As a result, my uncle disinherited me, so I suppose you could say since I was eighteen, I have had to make my way in the world. The first few years at sea were difficult, but rewarding. I did not want everything handed to me. I expected to attain it through effort. The six years I did strive, made me what I am. Nevertheless, I would leave you with only half the picture if I did not tell you that before my uncle died, he reconsidered and left me an inheritance. I look like a roguish pirate but I am really a wealthy lord. Knowing your preference, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“I was under the assumption that you obtained your wealth through the war.”
“That is true. I’ve made a fortune from prize money since I joined the navy.”
“How long have you lived with your inheritance?”
“About four years.”
“But you’ve just returned from sea! Did you go back after you became wealthy?”
“Jasmine, prosperity hasn’t altered me. I have the same friends and values as before. How can status nullify loyalty and duty? How can it change my nature? I hated the class system before I had two shillings to rub together. I still dislike it. How can money make a man?”
How she loved him for that! He was undiminished in her sight. He was still her hero.
“Were you an only child? What about your mother?” Now that Laurence was talking about himself, she longed to know everything.
“I was an only child and always wanted to have brothers and sisters. My three best friends I count as brothers. I number you and your sisters as the ones I wished I had growing up.”
“I’ve always wanted an elder brother.”
“If I were your brother, I would have given you the added benefit of protecting you against suitors.”
“Oh, the things we’ve missed out on!” she said laughing with delight.
His smile disappeared. “As for my mother,” he said soberly, “I never knew her. She died when I was two.” He stated this simply, without self-pity.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I wish I had known you then. I would have held you! I would have protected you!” she said passionately.
He found it difficult to speak.
“I wish I could lessen your pain somehow, yet there is nothing I can do about the past. I can only reassure you that I am a true friend for life. I will always be here if you need me,” she said softly.
The tears reached his eyes and spilled over. “Your acceptance, and that of your family, has already brought healing in my life.”
Jasmine’s heart was full…now she could not speak.
“There is nothing about you I find repulsive. Your thoughts fascinate me. You may have wanted to use the secret of your education to rid yourself of annoying suitors, but it is useless as a weapon against me. I am not intimidated. Nothing you are, nothing you do, nothing you say, will ever stop me from being your…friend.”
Jasmine held his hand and pressed it. An involuntary sob escaped and she ran back to the house embarrassed that she had betrayed her emotions. Seeking the library for solitude, she paced the floor, as her thoughts and feelings churned within her.
Never once in the whole course of their friendship had it dawned that Laurence could be in love with her. They were birds of a different feather. She was a sparrow next to his eagle strength. He soared in her estimation. Her education and abilities only helped her appreciate and value him more. She had enough intelligence to recognize his genius. She never put herself in the same classification as Laurence; he was already far above her. The more she learned of his life, the more she respected and loved him. She would rather be his friend than another man’s wife. Let him love the sea--she would love him. Let him long for the sea--she would long for him. She was complete in her devotion and loyalty to him. She determined in her heart to remain his friend and never marry.
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