America's First Daughter: A Novel(65)
How I swelled with pride at my love’s actions, even as Papa’s words made me wary. “He’s very principled.”
My father stopped by our gate. “I think William means to return to America, where he may buy a farm near to me in Albemarle County; of this I’m not sure, having avoided asking him lest he should mistake curiosity for inclination. But if those are his plans, what happy neighbors we’ll be! Then I’ll be very happy to give this match my blessing.”
My fear melted away and my heart soared with joy. Soared like one of those balloons that Papa had taken me to see, rising up and up and up! I rushed to kiss his cheek in excitement before his words sank in. “Do you mean to say, you won’t give your blessing now?”
The light of that Parisian summer day glinted in his blue eyes. “I merely ask that you wait until William has established himself somewhere without the element of danger or poverty. Then, if he proposes marriage, I’ll be delighted to welcome into our family a man who is already a son to me, one whose company I find necessary to my happiness.”
Papa wanted us to wait, after we’d already waited so long! That I didn’t burst into tears on the spot was, I thought, something to be quite proud of. Papa’s words had the ring of perfect reason to them, so why did I hear in them such injustice?
When the heart finds its one true desire, any separation and delay is unbearable. And so it was to be a miserable evening, one that I suffered with an ache blooming in my chest. The Duchess of Cavendish commented favorably upon my height just before I was presented to her as “Miss Jefferson, the daughter of His Excellency, Thomas Jefferson, the American minister.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of him,” the duchess said. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” She made a twirling motion with her fingers. “Et cetera, et cetera.”
I curtseyed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“But not the women,” she said, frowning. “In France, I’m hoping to meet women dedicated to égalité and the right to decide our own fates. Your father wrote all men are created equal, but made no mention of the ladies. Haven’t you wondered why?”
Yes, I wondered. Because in the spirit of the times, and my own discontent, everything I knew was open to question. . . .
GUILT RIDDEN, I confessed to William that our love was no longer secret as we sat admiring our gardens. He lifted my chin with his fingers, the smile he wore revealing that he took my confessions well enough. “It’s all right. I suppose your father cannot have been much deceived, given how I dote upon you.”
In truth, I thrived upon his doting, as I hoped he knew. “Papa wants to know your plans for the future. He says he hasn’t asked if you’ll return to Virginia for fear of influencing you.”
At this, Mr. Short looked quite taken aback. “I find that painfully curious, since I’ve already told him my decision.”
Confused, I shifted toward him on the bench. “Perhaps I misunderstood him. . . .”
William clutched my hand. “He wants me to set up a law practice in Albemarle County, Patsy, but I intend to pursue foreign service. My appointment as chargé d’affaires should make me a candidate to replace your father as minister to France. If not, then I’ll seek an appointment to Spain or the Netherlands.”
Though William had told me he was an ambitious man, I hadn’t grasped just how ambitious. “Then you mean to stay in Europe?”
“For a few years,” he said, warming to the subject. “What a fine diplomat’s wife you’ll make. There’s so much of the world you’ve yet to see, and I dream of showing you. Everywhere on my travels, I wished for you, every treasure diminished before my eyes because it wasn’t seen by yours.”
Caught up in his enthusiasm, I imagined myself a diplomat’s wife, learning new languages, venturing to strange new places, seeing sights few Americans would ever see. What a glamorous adventure we’d have together. “You think I’m suited for such a life?”
“Who better?” he asked with affection and confidence. “You know court etiquette. You’ve studied diplomacy in your father’s own parlor and have learned to make yourself amiable with every sort of person, from peasants to duchesses. I’d count myself blessed to have you for my own.”
My heart pounded faster to think it. Then I remembered Papa, and it fell hard, like a stone, into my belly. “But if you stay in Europe, we’d have to leave Papa.”
It seems I face threats of abandonment on all sides. . . .
“Oh, President Washington will keep your father quite busy in the coming years. We’ll all be back together before he even notices.” I didn’t like the way William’s gaze slid away from mine as he spoke such cavalier words. We’d once shared the burden of my father’s madness, protecting him from the world and from himself. Surely William hadn’t forgotten.
“Papa relies upon us,” I said, searching his eyes for understanding. “He needs us.”
William leaned in to place reassuring kisses on my cheeks. “Your father is past those dark days. You’ve taken care of him since you were a girl. Come with me, now, my love. Let me take care of you until the end of our days.”
How my heart swelled at his words.
How tempting he was.