Love in Three-Quarter Time (28 page)

“Naturally.” She wrinkled her pert little nose, and he dropped a kiss upon it.

On this night more than ever before, Robbie valued freedom.

EPILOGUE

Montgomery Manor, October 1817

Constance brushed her dusty hands on her apron and retied the headscarf she'd borrowed from Martha. How had Robbie let the place fall into such disrepair in only a few months? But after a day of Cavendish magic, her soon-to-be home gleamed and smelled of beeswax. She surveyed the spacious but simple plantation house from the hallway in the center. A parlor filled with moderate furnishings, a dining room, a library, and a sitting room. Plus the five bedrooms upstairs and sprawling attic. Perfect for growing a family.

Patience entered the back door, coming from the kitchen outside, and scurried past her with a tray. “Come join us on the front porch. I've made lemonade.”

Although her family, Grammy included, now resided in their own little home in Charlottesville, they'd come to help her and Robbie open the plantation house. With the wedding a week away, they needed all the assistance they could find.

Constance joined them on the porch just as Robbie strode up the steps. He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek, and as always, she tingled at his touch.

Mother rocked on a chair, her gaze sweeping across the rolling hills. “Ah, it's almost like coming home.”

“Please do consider it your home, Mrs. Cavendish. Come visit anytime you like,” Robbie said.

“That I will.”

Felicity perched herself on the railing and peered at the forest to the right. “What's that?” She shielded her eyes and pointed toward the horizon.

A band of shadowy figures emerged from the trees and headed their way. Constance could not make out faces with the sun to their backs, but one broke free and ran toward the house with a familiar gait. Before long, the fringe of her short dress came into view.

“Sissy?” Constance remained frozen on the porch.

“Ginger!” the woman called.

Constance waved but could not convince her feet to move.

By the time Sissy had nearly reached them, Constance could make out more of the group. Hulking James walked beside a wagon with a child attached to each leg and along with others she recognized from the Black Indian tribe.

Sissy ran up the steps and flung herself into Constance's waiting embrace.

Constance took her by the arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Lorimer told us everything.” Sissy turned to offer Mother a melancholy grin.

“Aye, and we know about your little Red Bird.” Mother reached out her hand, and Sissy clasped it. “You are all welcome here nonetheless.”

“I never wanted to hurt you none, Mrs. Cavendish.”

“I understand. Let's not speak of it again,” said Mother.

“George! Henry!” Robbie now dashed off the porch toward the others.

“We done come home, Mr. Robbie.” The man named George held out his hand for Robbie to shake. Robbie ignored it and pulled him into an embrace as well.

“It's a hard life out there,” said Henry. “We had our taste of freedom, and Montgomery Manor is lookin' mighty fine right about now.”

“Truly?” Constance asked Sissy.

“Yes'm. And now that Lorimer done brought us our papers, we figured we was free to join them. We've come home too, Miss Ginger, if you'll have us.”

Constance clutched Sissy to her once again. “And this time, there will be no reason to run away.”

“This time can't nothin' make me leave you.”

As rounds of greetings and giggles continued, Constance stood back and watched in awe. Robbie took her hand and dragged her from the porch down onto the springy grass. Until that moment, she'd forgotten she left her shoes in the parlor. He spun her in a circle and caught her in a hold, leading Constance into the gliding steps of the waltz.

“What are you doing, you crazy man?”

“I've nearly doubled my work staff today, and more important, everyone is home where they belong.” He tossed back his head and laughed. “What better reason to dance?”

Constance abandoned herself to the motion, expressing her joy in full measure, allowing the gingersnaps to fly at will, igniting the air with her bliss.

As Henry broke into a lively tune and George pounded upon the rail in three-quarter time, the others paired up and joined them for a spontaneous ball right there on the front lawn of Montgomery Manor.

* * *

Lorimer, astride his horse, adjusted his hat as the reunion in the distance unfolded before him. The copper hair of one feminine form particularly held his gaze. Constance and Robbie had done it. They had learned to live freely and lightly in the rhythmic flow of the Holy Spirit. And somehow in the process, Lorimer had ended up alone, observing from the tree-covered ridge.

But it had never been about him. It had always been about God.

At least Lorimer could find some small comfort in the fact that there still remained two unattached and very lovely Misses Cavendishes.

HISTORICAL NOTES

Although I used primarily fictional characters and settings, the general history, culture, and geography of this story are correct to the best of my understanding. The Monticello scene with the Randolphs should reflect a factual representation of the plantation. I included details down to furnishings, slave names, and even a quote attributed to Jefferson. While many facts about Patsy Randolph are true, the scenes depicting her are my own creations.

I don't know when the first waltz was danced in America and doubt that Jefferson was in attendance at the ball. It was well accepted in England by 1816, however, and in the States by 1835. And, of course, it had to start somewhere. I'm also not certain that the phrase “belle of the ball” was used quite this early, although it is reasonable to suspect it was.

The Regency era waltz was quite different than the boxy American waltz performed today. I illustrated the style of that time throughout the book. I used a more well-known waltz hold in the prologue, however, to not jolt the reader or bog down the beginning of the book with encumbering details.

Another aspect of the story that interested me was the Black Indian tribe. The most famous Black Indians were a Monacan tribe near Bear Mountain in Amherst County in Virginia. I moved my village slightly north to facilitate my story; the Monacans, however, did reside throughout the Shenandoah Mountains, and I've enjoyed the pleasure of touring a historical Monacan village in Natural Bridge.

I had a fun time fusing the Southern plantation, frontier, Native American, and Regency cultures for this book. I hope you will forgive me if I ever let my imagination run away with me and that you enjoyed my Scarlett O'Hara meets Jane Austen novel.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I'd like to offer special thanks to everyone who helped make this book possible.

My agent, Tamela Hancock Murray, encouraged me to give historical romance a try, helped me pick a setting, and guided me as I fine-tuned the final product.

Thanks to my family, who put up with my incessant writing schedule as I worked on the rough draft.

Thanks to all the members of Inkwell Inspirations, HIS Writers, and my local ACFW group, who laughed, cried, and prayed with me over the years through this crazy journey.

Thank you to my editors at Zondervan First, who had faith in me as their launch author and made the process so enjoyable.

A shout-out to the wonderful ladies who critiqued this novel: Angela Andrews, Roseanna White, Christine Lindsay, Debra Marvin, Susan Diane Johnson, and Gina Welborn. I couldn't have done it without you.

And finally, thank you to the still small voice of the Holy Spirit that sparked this whole idea by whispering the awesome title to my heart.

About the Author

Dina Sleiman writes lyrical stories that dance with light. Most of the time you will find this Virginia Beach resident reading, biking, dancing, or hanging out with her husband and three children, preferably at the oceanfront. Since finishing her professional writing MA in 1994, she has enjoyed many opportunities to teach literature, writing, and the arts. She was the overall winner in the 2009 Touched by Love contest for unpublished authors. Her debut novel,
Dance of the Dandelion
, was released by WhiteFire Publishing in 2011. Join her at
www.dinasleiman.com
as she discovers the unforced rhythms of grace.