Jessie's Passion

By Ida Flowers

A group of wealthy young friends. A colony terrorized by outlaws. A young woman obsessed.
Jessie Maclaine, the youngest of the group of friends from the Carolina Lowcountry, is a spoiled, passionate girl determined to have her own way and marry Robbie Stewart, who still sees her as the tag-along pest of their childhood. Her every waking thought is focused on making him to see her as a woman, and in her dreams, he belongs to her.
Robbie Stewart is the eldest of the group and the heir to Brianag, his uncle’s plantation, and he is far too occupied with tormenting the agents responsible for enforcing the Stamp Act and helping his deceased father’s family defend themselves against outlaws in the Backcountry to pay any attention to Jessie, except when he finds an opportunity to tease her.
As unrest builds in the colonies, and the outlaws continue their rampages in the mountains, Jessie learns that the world is bigger than youthful desire and that choices made impetuously are followed inevitably by consequences—some of which are irreparable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ida Flowers
• Release date: Mar 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458102546

Ida Flowers

Ida Flowers has worked as a teacher, waitress, phone book delivery driver, and mother, among other varied vocations. Now an empty-nester, Ida spends as much time as possible traveling and researching while waiting for inspiration to tap her on the shoulder.

Book preview

Jessie’s

Passion

IDA FLOWERS

This is a work of fiction. References to actual places or people are fictional.

Copyright 2020 by Ida Flowers

idaflowersfiction.com

All rights reserved.

ISBN (ebook): 9781 4581 02546

South Carolina, November 1765

I run down the stairs and out the door, onto the front porch of Gillean, tears of rage searing my cheeks as I watch my brothers ride away toward Brianag, their horses’ feet clattering upon the stones of the driveway. I clutch the post and scream after them, to wait for me, to let me go with them; but they do not look back. I sink to the steps, feeling as if my chest will crack open from the pain.

How I hate Cathy Randall in this moment! How I burn with envy of her in her happiness with her husband! I press my fists to my cheeks, weeping into my lap, wishing that John Belden would die, so that Cathy might return to Brianag to live, and I could again visit her there, as often as ever before! Then I would see Robbie as often as I always have, even every day. I would not be left behind but included as always, close to Robbie, drinking in his nearness, filling again the emptiness that grows inside me with every separation from him.

They are so stupid, all of them. They think of me as a child, the bairn of our group. Even Cathy, who is my dearest friend in the world, believes she can manage my life and even my heart! Little does she know that I am as much in love with Robbie as I have ever been.

I belong to Robbie; he will belong to me. No matter what they all think, no matter what I must do—I will marry Robbie Stewart. I wipe my cheeks on my apron and rise to my feet, turning toward the inside of the house and the sound of my mother's beckoning.

Chapter One

In the quiet of a spring evening, when everyone at Gillean had gone to bed, I paced the floor of my room in my night dress, waiting for my brother Kevin to come home. The night was chilly and the windows were closed. I looked through the glass every few minutes, hoping to see him in the moonlight, coming up the driveway. I opened the window to listen for the sound of his horse's feet, then drew it closed again. At last I heard him, and then saw him. Throwing a shawl about my shoulders, I crept from my room and down the stairs. I softly opened the front door and slipped out onto the porch, closing it silently behind me.

Kevin had dismounted and the horse was being led away. He saw me as he started up the steps.

Jessie! he said. What on earth are you doing out of bed, bairn? You'll catch your death!

I'm not cold, I said, my teeth chattering lightly. I must speak with you, Kevin.

He held out his hand to me as he sat in a chair on the porch, drawing me onto his knee. I pulled my feet up under my nightdress. What is it, lass?

Kevin, I said, and the shivering grew until it became a knot in my middle. Kevin drew me into his embrace. I pressed my face against his shoulder.

Lass, what is it? he said again. Is our mother mistreating you?

Oh, no! I mean to say—not more than ever. Kevin, I must know—do you think—could Robbie Stewart love me?

I felt his quick intake of breath, then his hand stroked my hair. Oh, lass, lass, he said. Do not let yourself love Robbie, I entreat you. He is not for you.

I pushed myself away from him. Why? Why do you say so? I whispered passionately. Why can he not be for me?

Robbie is not the marrying kind, Jessie. He loves horses and games and fighting and girls—too many to settle down with just one! Please, heed me in this. I do not wish to see my little sister with a broken heart.

It is too late, if Robbie will not have me. My heart shall be broken, for I love him with all of it, I said, and tears filled my eyes.

Desist, Jessie. You do not know what you are saying.

Oh, I do! I do! I whispered.

Kevin sighed. What a child you are! He drew me in close to him again. You believe that you can simply demand something, and it will be given to you.

Oh, what nonsense, I said.

Our mother is right in one thing, Jessie. Our father has indulged you entirely to excess, my brother said. You believe that you can have whatever you want, whenever you want! And why should you not? You are the princess of Gillean! Adored by all! Carefree and thoughtless and happy. Why would you not believe it to be so? I tried to raise my head, but he held me fast. Robbie is not a gown, nor a bauble, nor a pony. He is a man, and he is free to do as he will. I assure you, Jessie, he will never settle down with a wife, at least not for many a year to come.

You do not know. You cannot know his mind, I said, obstinacy rising in me.

"You speak truly, indeed. Do you believe that you know Robbie's mind? Jessie, you cannot always have what you want! You are grown, now. There are times when we must do what we do not wish to do. Times when we find ourselves with obligations that must be met. Do you think that our brother Sean really wanted to move away to Savannah, leaving our home behind—all his family, his friends, his love?"

H-his love? I said, and my breath caught on a sob.

Kevin paused, as if he regretted speaking. Yes, Jessie. There was someone he loved and who did not love him in return, he said. He went away not just to manage our father's estate, but to escape the pain of that loss as well. If you were not so blinded by your own desires, perhaps you would have had an inkling of this.

Oh! My eyes filled again, and I leaned into his chest once more, resting there for a moment, thinking of Sean, alone in Savannah. We missed him dreadfully at Gillean and at Brianag. How lonely he must be!

But after a moment I sat up again. I shall marry Robbie, I said, and heard the stubbornness in my voice. I shall make him see that I love him truly, and he will love me.

Never, Jessie, you mustn’t—

I shall make him love me, I said again. I have never really tried, only wished and hoped. But now I shall work for his love. I stood up. Good night, Kevin.

Jessie, lass, I beg you. You will only be heartbroken.

I turned my back on him and went into the house. I knew that I would never marry any other besides Robbie Stewart. I would not suffer the same fate as my brother Sean, loving and not loved in return. I would make Robbie love me, somehow. I would find a way to marry him and I would live with him at Brianag.

In the early morning I could hear the Negroes singing their way to the fields, and when my maid Lily came in to light the fire I reluctantly stirred myself. I did not wish to provoke my mother's displeasure by being tardy to breakfast.

All my heart and mind were on Robbie, while I slept and when I woke. I was bereft when I was not near him. The air that I breathed seemed void of sustenance without his presence. I had always known that Robbie was for me. Ever since I could remember, he had been a part of my life, as large a part as my brothers Kevin and Sean were, and for the past several years, my love for Robbie had overshadowed all else in my world.

I knew very well that he did not feel the same for me. I knew that to him I was the bairn, the youngest of our group, the one who had been the tag-along since I could walk, needing to be carried when everyone else could jump and run, wanting to ride behind their saddles when I was too young to ride alone, always in the way of their adventures, always the nuisance, the bother, the thorn in his and my brothers' sides.

Robbie was oldest of us, nearly twenty-one. I was the youngest. Cathy Randall, Robbie's cousin, and August O'Reilly, our neighbor, and Kevin and Sean were between us. The six of us had been together almost every day of our childhood, Cathy and Robbie, August, and the Maclaines, an inseparable little band of adventurers. We had roamed the woods and swamps together, hunting in the woods, fishing in the streams, playing in the barns and fields.

But time moved us toward adulthood. Our activities of necessity changed. Cathy and August and I were schooled in preparation for marriage. We took our music and dancing lessons together with the same master. Our mothers taught us needlework and flower arranging. The boys went away to school in Virginia. I found myself often alone at Gillean with my mother, being squeezed into stiff stays and forced to do chores I had no interest in. Cathy and August seemed happy enough to grow up. I was not.

When the boys came home from school on their holidays, it would be like old times. We would ride the plantations together, and play games in the drawing room and on the lawns of Brianag. It was on one of their visits home that I fell in love with Robbie.

I still remembered the moment clearly. I was thirteen. It was a warm day in April. He and Cathy had come galloping up to the porch of Gillean as they had countless times before, and I had run out of the house to greet them. He had swept me up in his arms for a hug as he always did, his green eyes snapping with fun, but on that day an unfamiliar feeling had swept me, leaving me speechless, and too weak to stand. Fortunately Kevin and Sean had been there, hugging Cathy, and I was able to sink into a chair without anyone noticing my discomfiture.

Before that day I had never given any thought to my future, but had gone innocently through my days, avoiding my mother when I could, riding the plantation with Sean and Kevin and Robbie, romping in the barns and fields, or giggling with Cathy and August as we lay in bed together. At last, wakeful in my bed a few nights later, wide-eyed and heated, I realized that I was changing into a woman, and that I was in love with Robbie. Even then, with my undeveloped body and mind, I had wanted him so ardently that I wept into my pillow, turning from side to side in my bed, wishing that I could run to him and tell him of my passion.

I began to put more effort into my education. I became quite accomplished on the pianoforte. I began to enjoy singing for the entertainment of guests. I practiced calligraphy and embroidery. I disciplined myself to work hard to become a young lady that Robbie would love, would want to marry.

Then, two years ago, John Belden had entered our lives. Sometimes, when my heart was about to break with missing Robbie, though I knew my dear friend Cathy loved him and was a happy wife now, I hated John and wished him dead. Now that Cathy was married and living at Grant's Hill, there were fewer opportunities for me to visit Brianag. During the first year of her marriage she had visited often, and our times together changed little. The boys were finished with school and were always in the neighborhood. Though they often disappeared for days at a time, with Cathy and August I was content until they returned. But now that she was expecting the child, she could not travel to Brianag, a half day's journey from Grant's Hill.

I thought of my encounter with Kevin the night before, and my heart ached as I remembered his warning. But I squeezed that pain into a smaller place and expanded my stubbornness. I would make Robbie love me. I would marry him.

If only I could just speak to him, to tell him of my love!

Of course I knew better than to do such a thing. I knew well the ways in which young ladies were expected to behave toward young men. My mother had been trying to teach me how to behave toward suitors since she had begun forcing me into stays. Her goal was to prepare me for marriage, and this meant teaching me how to be attractive to eligible men. I knew that she was growing impatient with me. I knew that soon she would become more insistent that I marry.

My mother did not like me. She wished I had been a boy. She had often told me so.

Dressed with time to spare, I went to look out the tall windows. The sun was rising, its rays penetrating the mist that lingered over the marsh. The cypress trees shimmered, their new yellow-green leaves glowing in the light. Nearer, the fruit trees beyond the lawn were heavy with blossoms and I knew that with the window open I would smell their fragrance. This was the scene that had met my gaze since before my memories began. Though the seasons changed the trees and grasses, the landscape remained the same.

This was Gillean, named for our ancestor, Gillean of the Battle Axe, the place where I and my five brothers had been born, and where three of them were now buried, and the place which, however beautiful, I would be thankful to leave when Robbie and I were married.

Brianag was where Robbie lived, with Cathy's parents the Randalls. Robbie was the son of Cathy's mother's sister, who had been killed in the back country, along with her husband James Stewart, by a marauding band of Cherokees when Robbie was an infant. He had escaped only because he had been with his nurse, who had taken him with her to visit in the slave quarters on a neighboring farm. Cathy's mother had brought Robbie home to Brianag and raised him as her own child, along with Cathy, who was three years younger than Robbie.

Brianag was not only home to Cathy and Robbie; it was home to me. It was the place where we played most, where we spent the largest portion of our time together. There, I did not need to fear that my mother was looking over my shoulder, criticizing my every move. I was free to be a child if I wished, and I could confide my every secret to Cathy and August. I could ride astride my horse, galloping wildly across the fields with the boys, my petticoats hitched up almost to my knees, and no one would reprimand me. I could take off my shoes and stockings and wade in the mud, and only Cathy would chide me, and even she did not really care. At Brianag I was allowed to be as uncivilized and unladylike as I wished while in the company of the ones most dear to me.

The house at Brianag was very large, much larger than those of Gillean or Shannon's Loch, the O'Reilly home. Built by Cathy's grandfather for her parents before their marriage, a celebration of the joining of the McDonald and Randall lands, it was a home fit for royalty—and indeed, the Randalls were like royalty in the planter district where we lived. They were not only admired and respected, but also loved for their kind and gracious hospitality and charity among the people of the county.

The house sat on a rise above a swamp and the long drive that curved in front of it was lined with oak trees that had been planted soon after the house was built. A long verandah crossed the front, with tall columns supporting the roof which covered it. Tall windows on either side of the front door welcomed all who entered; the draperies were never closed except on the coldest days of winter. Inside at the center of the house were twin staircases which led to the two upper ends of the house, where there were many bedchambers for family and guests, sewing rooms for ladies to gather, balconies from which one could see past the swamp to the forest beyond. The lawn sloped gently from the back terrace to the swamp, and as infants we had played there under the watchful eyes of our nurses. Now that we were older, we played pall mall and blind man's bluff, and on the pleasant days when there were picnics or dances, linen-covered tables loaded with food were placed there on the lawn.

At Brianag, I was happy. I knew that, there, I was loved.

At Brianag, I was near Robbie.

I heard horses coming, and my heart lifted as I looked toward the sound. Kevin and our father were coming from their early ride to the fields. I turned and hurried down the stairs. As I reached the bottom, they entered by the front door.

I skipped forward to greet them.

Daughter! my father said. Good morning to you! I trust you slept well?

Oh, very well, Papa, I thank you, I said, and curtsied. He turned his cheek toward me. I kissed it obligingly and turned to Kevin.

Good morning, little sister, said Kevin, and kissed me. His eyes searched mine for a moment. I turned to my father.

Shall Kevin and I go to Grant's Hill today? I asked. I had a letter from Cathy Belden yesterday; she is so lonely for company! Perhaps Robbie will go, too. We could return as soon as tomorrow.

Today Kevin will help me in the fields, said my father. It's far too easy I've been on him of late. It is planting time, after all. If you bairns would eat next winter, you must work.

Indeed, they must, said my mother's voice, and she entered the foyer from the drawing room. I have work for you to do today as well, Miss Maclaine. There is more to being a young lady than putting on the gowns your father lavishes you with and visiting about the countryside.

I looked at the floor.

The gong sounded. My father gave my mother his arm, and we went in to breakfast.

Kevin talked as he spooned hominy and eggs onto his plate. There are rumors that the Stamp Act shall be repealed, he said. The agents have all resigned. There is no one to enforce it.

Of course, no one could enforce it, said my father. They were afraid to. They knew the Liberty Boys would rout them properly.

We did rout them, indeed, didn't we? said Kevin, laughing. Remember the night we tied up that fat agent at Callender? Why, our Jessie wrote a song about it! Did you hear it, Mama? Papa?

My father laughed, looking at me. No, I did not hear about it! What a talented lass you are, my dear. You shall sing it for me tonight.

You flatter me too much, sir, I said. It was only a silly verse, intended to amuse my friends.

No doubt they found it exceedingly entertaining, said my mother. I only wish my endeavors to teach Jessamine needlework were as successful as her attempts at poetry.

I lowered my gaze to my plate, waiting for my father to defend me. I was not disappointed.

Ach, let the lass be. There is plenty of time for her to learn how to keep house. Let her play while she still may.

The girl will be eighteen in October, sir, said my mother. For how would you keep her a spinster?

A spinster? My father laughed, as loudly as Kevin. She is but a child. I am in no hurry to marry her off.

My mother did not answer him, and I did not look at either of them. I fervently thanked God that my father still considered me a child.

Kevin spoke. Perhaps, Papa, after dinner today we might all ride over to Brianag to see the Randalls. It's been too long since we've visited.

My breath went out of my body. The momentary silence that followed seemed endless to me, as if the heavens had stopped turning to hear what my father's answer would be.

He took a bite of his food and looked thoughtful. I believe we shall, he said. We can spare the afternoon to visit. What say you, madam?

I am sure that the lass and I have many things to do here at Gillean—

You may stay here at Gillean if you wish. The lass will come with us, said my father, and I breathed again, swallowing hard to stifle the cry of joy that would have erupted from my throat.

I swallowed a sip of tea and slid another glance toward my mother. She was looking at her plate but not eating, her lips pressed into a tight line. I pushed aside a quiver of dread and looked at my father. His gray eyes twinkled at me, and I smiled at him, then lowered my gaze, the thrill rising into my throat again. I would see Robbie today.

After breakfast, Kevin and Papa left the house, and I was alone with my mother. I followed her into the drawing room to receive my instructions.

You shall work on the rug today, she told me.

I clenched my teeth. Of all the forms of needlework, I most hated hooking a rug. My mother knew this. I suppose she thought it was good for me, being forced to do work that I hated. Perhaps she believed it would teach me self-discipline.

Yes, Mama, I said.

She sat on a sofa. I went to sit on the stool behind the frame that held the workings of the rug. The wools, dyed in jewel colors, lay in a basket next to the frame. I picked up the needle.

It is high time you were married, Jessamine, she said to me.

I kept my head down. Yes, Mama.

There were young men in our district whom