By Guys? Where the heck....
Date: 25 May 2000

Manifest Destiny (The Saga Continues)



            Chastity stood to her full height, trembling with rage. The were worse things this stranger might have done---far more embarassing things for certain---but the light touch on her hair was intimate---and the last straw after the strain of the last few days...

           "Sir" "she said", "You presume!"

            Dirk, never for a loss for words or tart rejoinder was struck dumb.
She was magnificent---not a small girl, but one who standing, he would barely have to lean to kiss...it disturbed him, that bit of knowledge. Her eyes were beautiful, wide and angry---and she helf herself with the grace of a well born lady---though he could see that she had come from humble roots. No lady could have carried the simple gown and cloak with the simple grace of a queen. Ladies
need lavish gowns and fine coaches---jewels and perfume---but this chestnut haired goddess was pale---and he could see it in her eyes---quite at the end of her resources. Mustering all he could remember of social grace, he dropped a polite bow.

           "Forgive me miss---I was foward, and common...and you hair is beautiful---it does not excuse the presumption---" he began.

           "No sir---it does not." she said. With that, she drew the cloak up, covering the lovely mane of hair from his glance. Without another word, she turned on her heel, and walked from the Inn, cool and composed. As the door shut behind her, the Inn rocked with laughter. Chastity did not notice...the light was going--and she was desperate for a place to spent the night. The night people were beginning to emerge. A few saucily dressed women breezed past, their faced colored with rouge and powder. They were laughing---but the sound had a false ring...She looked away from them, not wishing to seem a bumpkin...and saw the man standing in the shadows. He had a normal face---nothing awful, or sinister---and yes his look made her shiver inside...he eyed her as a buzzard regards a dying creature---wondering if the  poor thing has any fight left to it...and had it been permissable, she would have run. But women were expected to carry themselves with grace, and measured steps...only a hoyden would gather her skirts for a dash---and in fact, the stranger had done nothing unseemly---such as touch her hair...

           Her hand went up then---to the loose strand that had so intrigued the man in the inn...she brushed it behind her ear, wishing for a glass to help her neaten the mass---How dare he? Whatever had he taken her for? The thought brought her up suddenly...he had not taken her for a doxie. He has not taken a liberty---and if she wished to complain of it, he had done neither her, nor her reputation lasting damage...instead he had acted as child would have---he reached out to touch something he sound lovely...Only he was no child, she reminded herself---but a darkly attractive man, with a wonderful mouth, and sharply carved features...his eyes were deeply set in his face, and had looked at her with appreciation---if not frank regard. She would have to be more careful in Washington, she resolved. She found herself close to the Presidential Palace---the white house they called it...and she gaped at the structure. It was grand---but no palace...

            And that was the last thought she had before she felt a sharp crack at the back of her skull that sent her careening into blackness....


             Robert Stewart was glancing out the Window  and saw the attack begin---too late to shout for the girl to beware, he wiggled beneath the casement and sprinted across the lawn. The thug had done his damage, and was going through the girl's cloak, as she lay limply at his feet...he heard Stewart approaching, and looked up quickly---then ran off leaving his victim to her fate. He hesistated a moment---persue him? Or help the girl? She was dead out however---and some other street vermin would strip her bare if he left her unprotected on the street like this...sighing, he stooped, and looped an arm over her shoulder. She was nearly dead weight, and flopped like a rag doll in his arms. He staggered, but managed to half drag her acorss the grass...

             He was sure his hosts wouldn't object, though the houseman put up a fuss at the door...

           "Street trash!" he sniffed.

           "No indeed---a young lady in need of aid...Please tell Mrs. Madison that there may be another for dinner. I'm sure she will not share your objections Rahleigh..."

            At the mention of the first lady, the houseman bit back whatever retort he was thinking of. Mrs. Madison was tender hearted to a fault---but pity the soul who took her tenderness for softness---no indeed. Instead he called for a parlor maid to bring lint, bandages, and some cool water..the girl did not seem to be bleeding--but he hoped her muddy cloak would not stain the settee. Raleigh disliked Stewart intensely---but as a trusted friend of the Madisons, he was always welcome--and seemingly ever present at the house...but there were other matters to attend---the next night a state dinner was to be held---and Mrs. Madison was demanding all sorts of fripperies...he stalked off, hald grumbling beneath his breath.

           Stewart loosened the cloak, coloring as he did. The manners of the day made even that much an intimacy for which he could be challeneged to a duel by this unfortunate's family...and whoever would have set such a beauty loose without a chaperone in Washington, he wondered. There was a swelling at the back of her head---very tender---she winced when he pressed. He had no medical training, but a gentleman from Virginia often had a varied education in order to run one of the great estates. The girl was lovely---but drawn---pale white, but nicely made. No fading flower this one..he bit back the thought. The girls his parents paraded before him were inevitably anemic, thin, and washed out...whereas this one seemed to be none of those things...did she ride he wondered? And he almost smiled at the thought---what difference would that make?

            And abruptly---the girl moved, tried to sit bolt upright---and was promptly ill...Stewart stepped back---avoiding the worst of it, but knew there be the devil to pay when Raleigh heard of it...

          "Sit back child---you've gotten a hard knock to the head---they can unsettle you---and your stomach...I will get a chamber maid to help you..." he said kindly, aware of the mute misery in the girl's eyes...

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