Strands of Bronze and Gold, page 27
His face twisted. “It’s so dark, I can’t see you. Come near so I can see you. You must help me.”
How like him. How like him even now to continue talking, to continue to try to ensnare me with his words. “I don’t dare,” I said.
“Do you think I would grab you and crush your white neck? While I am thus? No, I won’t harm you if you’ll get a branch and wedge the trap open. You can go free to your family.”
“I’ll send someone for you.”
He sucked in sharply and shouted, “That would take too long! And they wouldn’t help; they’d bring a noose. Do I mean nothing to you? Would you leave me here to bleed to death?” He moaned from the pain. And now quieter, almost a whisper, “You are not like that. You are compassionate. Always you would wonder if you needed to let me die. You don’t want to live with that on your conscience.” He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. Every part of him shuddered and then lay perfectly still.
Bernard was dead. There was no movement, no breathing. I exhaled and moved slightly closer to peer into his eyes.
Dead.
I shook out my skirts and—in a flash—he lunged impossibly far to grab my ankle. The distorted look on his face is one I will never, never forget. The tighter I pulled away, the tighter he held, his fingernails digging into my flesh like the teeth of the trap dug into his. I screamed and struggled. I sobbed for Anne and for Gideon and for Anarchy and for my brothers.
“I said come,” he said, guttural and distorted. He began to reel me in, hand over hand, as he struggled to a sitting position.
I kicked at him with my free leg. He snatched it as well. I clutched at the trunk of the witch hazel bush, holding on for all I was worth.
Suddenly he gave a gasp and loosened his hold. Miraculously I struggled free.
He stared at something behind me.
I scuttled away and followed his gaze.
There stood Victoire and Tatiana, Tara and Adele, watching him with blazing eyes and blazing hair. Straight and strong and fierce, terrible in their beauty. Brighter and clearer than ever yet I had seen them.
“No!” he screamed. He tugged again at the trap, flailed, and covered his face with his arms.
I scrambled up and ran. The thorns tearing at my skin reminded me I still lived.
On and on I ran till I reached Anarchy. The door to her hovel gaped wide. She sat at her rickety table, her dear face lit by a lantern, eating her supper.
“Anarchy!” I stumbled into the room.
She knocked over the chair as she sprang up to catch me. “Honey, what’s happened? What he done to you?” Her eyes darted to the doorway.
I babbled nearly incoherently. “Bernard—he killed his wives—all of them, and he killed Odette and then he came after me. I stabbed him and he chased me and he’s caught in one of those traps. He’s bleeding to death.”
“Is he now? Well, good. He ain’t going nowheres, then.”
“Don’t we need to send someone for him?”
“Till he’s deader than lots of doornails, don’t see why we should. Good riddance, I say. But if it bothers you, what we gonna do is, I’ll go on up to the big house while you sits here, ’cause you ain’t in no fit state to go nowheres, and they’ll send someone into town for the marshal. You ain’t scared to be alone, is you? You ain’t scared he can still come after you?”
I was, but I shook my head.
She led me to her bed and made me sit on it, leaning against the wall. She covered me with her quilt and thrust a mug of lukewarm herbal tea into my hands and a small, fragrant calico cushion into my lap. “There, that’s stuffed with hops and lemon verbena and rosemary. You just smell it, and it’ll give you peace and take away your nightmares.”
I huddled on Anarchy’s bed, swathed in her quilt, clutching the cushion between my legs, and shivering convulsively so that I spilled the tea but hardly knew it. I grieved for myself and for the Sisters and for everyone in the world, even the man who lay dying, caught in his own trap. I grieved for what he should have been.
“Is Mr. Stone at home?” I asked the formidable-looking woman who answered the door. Mrs. Penny. That was what Gideon had said his housekeeper was named.
She looked at me appraisingly before nodding. “Come on in. You can wait in the parlor.”
Mrs. Penny led me through a dark hall and proudly flung back the door to a hideous room, papered in mud-colored stripes. The intimidating titles of ponderous religious works showed behind the leaded glass doors of a bookcase, and the portrait of Gideon’s predecessor frowned down at me from above the mantel. It must have been his wife who had worked the knobby needlework on the hard little cushions clustering the sofa.
I smoothed out my gown of black bombazine. It had belonged to the city marshal’s sister, who took pity on me. I had taken it in quickly, borrowing her needle and thread, and had hardly glanced at the sweat stains beneath the armpits. However, the fact that I had glanced at them at all at such a time told me the day would probably come when I would care about clothing again.
As I waited for Gideon, I pulled back heavy, dark green draperies. And saw the dogwood tree. The dogwood tree under which Buttercup lay. Its spreading limbs were still bare, but beneath it a hundred daffodil shoots were popping up eagerly.
At the sight of them tears pricked my eyes. I hadn’t cried since fleeing Wyndriven Abbey. I had held myself together tightly, fearing what might happen if I let go.
“Spring is coming.”
I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud until Gideon’s voice said from behind me, “Yes, it won’t be long now, and spring in Mississippi looks like heaven.”
I whirled around, and he crossed the room in two strides to take my hands in his own. “Oh, my dear, my dear, why didn’t you let me come to you?”
When I could trust my voice, I gently withdrew my fingers and said, “I had to protect you from yourself. You hadn’t thought yet how scandal will forever taint my name. Already there are journalists from throughout the South camped nearby. Soon more will show up from distant places. I wouldn’t have come today if I didn’t need to ask a favor.”
“The scandal is the last thing I care about. I can’t tell you how many times since the ball I’ve considered abducting you. Especially after I received a letter from your sister begging me to watch out for you. I should have acted sooner. I was too ponderous. I racked my brain to think what was the right plan of action. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving you there to go through what you’ve been through. So no more holding back for me. You’ve now had as much time as I can give. If you hadn’t come today, I would have stormed the hotel and made you see me.”
We were silent for a moment, just looking at each other, until he shook himself and said, “But tell me the favor.”
I gave a strangled little laugh because I could almost hear Bernard saying, Out with it, as he always did when I hesitated to request something. I quickly suppressed the thought. “I seem to always be asking you to bury bodies. When the examiner has finished with Monsieur de Cressac’s victims, could they please be interred in your churchyard? The ones who have been dead for years, as well as Odette. She was my maid, only she wasn’t really a maid. She was a heroine. After we’ve located everyone’s relatives and received permission, of course. Monsieur de Cressac’s body is to be buried at the abbey beside his son—he truly did care about him, I think—but I’d like the others to sleep beside your church.” I twisted my hair bracelet around my wrist. The bracelet would be placed on the stone angel I would move here as well, so she could stand vigilant over the Sisters’ graves.
“Of course I’ll take care of that. De Cressac is dead, then?”
“Yes. They told me this morning. He held on for three weeks. He’d lost a lot of blood, and then infection set in where they amputated his leg. I’m glad he’s out of his misery. That he won’t be hung. Is that a strange way to feel?”
“It’s commendable you should have compassion for such a person. Your emotions may always be confused where he’s concerned.”
I rubbed my forehead. “They are—they are. You can have no idea. I still don’t know what was real and what was an act. He might have been a great man if he hadn’t been so … damaged.”
“Thank goodness he’s now where he can do no more harm. The Lord will take everything into consideration in his judgment.”
I sat down on the hard sofa and picked at a knobby cushion. “How much have you heard about everything?”
“Only what everyone knows now. That de Cressac murdered all four of his wives and you discovered this. The town feels a collective guilt that none of us realized what had been going on. No innocent young lady should have been allowed to go to such a man and be placed in such danger. You’re considered a genuine heroine to have foiled him.”
“By some, maybe. There’ll be others who won’t be so kind. Before I say anything else, I need to know—are Charles and Talitha safe? They did come to you, didn’t they?”
“They did. They stayed for some time in my attic until the search for them died down and the weather took a favorable turn. By now they should be well on their journey to Canada.”
“Will you let me work with the Underground Railroad too? I want so badly to be of service to the people.”
“I’m sure you can help.”
“And is there a way I can connect with Charles and Talitha once they reach their destination?”
“The different portions of the Railroad are kept in darkest secrecy from each other, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. When we find them, I’m going to do something wonderful for them. I don’t know what exactly, but I’m sure they can tell me themselves what would help them best with their future.”
He nodded.
“And now,” I said, “I want to tell you the whole story, if you’ll listen. So you’ll know how to—to think of me.”
“Let’s go outside, then, into the garden. It’s so mild today, and for some reason I find this room oppressive.”
Now I laughed truly. “Oh, it’s the wallpaper. For one thing.”
He laughed as well. “You may be right. I suspected it might be ugly, but I wasn’t sure. Come on.”
I held back as he reached for my hand again. “People might see you with me.”
“Miss Petheram—Sophie—haven’t I told you I don’t care?”
And so I let him lead me into the garden.
He laid his coat on the grass and we sat upon it together—quite close. He smelled of lemon drops. We soaked up sunshine as I related my story, beginning with the day my family arrived at the abbey.
“Do you believe I really saw ghosts?” I asked at one point.
“Of course,” he said. “There are more things in heaven and on earth, Sophie, than are dreamed of in most people’s philosophies.”
“Now, that’s Shakespeare. I’m so glad you’re an unusual sort of preacher.”
A numbness took over when I spoke of the horrors. I still couldn’t truly comprehend everything, so I related them flatly. The only event I omitted was the one that occurred in the folly. Some things it was better for Gideon not to know. How remarkable that I, Sophie Petheram, once so sheltered, was now protecting someone else’s innocence. For a second I felt ancient, but the lovely day and Gideon’s presence gently seeped into my soul, growing me younger.
He listened quietly, but emotion worked in his face. When I finished, he shook his head. “In each instance you managed to do what you had to do. You’re a strong woman. And stronger because of the scars you now carry. How could I not have known what was going on? How could I have left you to fight alone?”
Now it was my turn to take his hand. “You had no idea what he was. Neither did I, and I was with him for months. No one really knew, except Garvey. And then Odette. We all did what we thought best at the time with what we knew.”
“What of this Garvey? Is he in custody?”
I stared fixedly at the daffodil shoots. “He disappeared before they could catch him. It’s my fear that someday I’ll look across a crowded street and there he’ll be. The valet ran off too, so he also probably knew something. The butler is overseeing the household by himself now, as Mrs. Duckworth is prostrate with grief. Her heart is failing, and they don’t think she’ll live more than a few days. When I heard that yesterday, I went—I made myself go and see her, to tell her I bore her no ill will for any part she played in any of this, because I don’t. Really I don’t. But I probably shouldn’t have gone.”
Gideon’s jaw set. “No, you shouldn’t ever have to go back to that place. You shouldn’t ever have to see those people again.”
“That’s not what I mean, although that is how I felt the first few days. If I ever even thought of the abbey, I had to hold myself back from running and hiding under the bedclothes. But what I meant is that I probably shouldn’t have visited Mrs. Duckworth, for her own sake. I nearly killed her off right there and then. When she saw me, she sat up and pointed her finger in my face and screamed that I had ruined everyone’s lives and acted as if she were going into convulsions. I left as fast as I could. Poor, poor old Ducky.”
“She still can’t imagine de Cressac doing any wrong, even after all this has come out. You’re right. Poor old Mrs. Duckworth. How did it feel returning to the abbey? If you’d only let me, I would have gone there with you.”
“Of course you would, but as I told you, I was protecting you from yourself.” I plucked a blade of grass and began carefully splitting it with my fingernail. Gideon started to say something, but I wouldn’t let him. “I steeled myself to go there, thinking every room would scream ‘Bernard!’ at me, but then somehow it wasn’t terrible. The abbey existed long, long before he did. He’s just a tiny dot in its history. It felt as if I were home when I stepped through the doors, even though I’m just a tiny dot too. I’m going to leave the hotel soon and go back there to stay.” I set my shoulders defiantly. “What do you think of that?”
“I think you’d better make no long-range plans for a while. Except for one.” He took a deep breath. “You say there’s a taint attached to your name. That isn’t so, but if it worries you, would you consider changing your name to mine?”
Frantically I plucked more grass. “I—I assume you’re asking me to marry you. You can’t have considered. We’ve spent so little time together. You hardly know me. And all this—it might destroy your career. We would be welcome nowhere.”
Tenderly he turned my face so I had to look him straight on. “What you do not realize is that most people in this world are sensible and decent. My cousin Richard and his wife have spoken to their friend Anarchy who lives on their property. Apparently she let them know which way the wind blows with us, and they assured me they’d be delighted to have you as a guest in their home as soon as you quit the hotel, if you’d like to wait a while longer before returning to the abbey. And Mrs. Penny whispered just now in the hall that she’s devoted to you already. I’m embarrassed my feelings have shown so plainly. Evidently, from the little I’ve told her in the past few weeks, she knows I’m head over heels in love with you. I have been from the first moment I saw the top of your head down below when I dangled from that tree, and every moment since has only made me more so.”
I studied his expression. Was it possible I was going to be allowed to be happy again?
“So do you”—Gideon looked unsure—“do you care for me at all?”
Well, I must simply tell the truth. “Of course I’m head over heels in love with you too.”
I let myself be pulled against his shoulder then, where I clutched his collar and buried my face into his waistcoat while my tears streamed down.
“And—and I’m afraid I’m going to be very wealthy,” I said when Gideon finally held me back so he could wipe my eyes with his handkerchief. “At first I didn’t want it. I panicked at the thought of that horrible money being mine.”
“I understand. You don’t know how much of de Cressac’s riches contributed to his warped personality or how much of it has been accumulated from the misfortune of others.”
“Exactly. But then both Mr. Bass and the attorney explained things. They said I could do whatever I desired with the abbey. I could turn it into a museum or a school or a home for unattractive and abandoned cats or some such thing, and lots of people could see it, because it really is a wonderful building, especially once I wipe out all signs of Monsieur de Cressac. I want to turn it into a place that does good. I also have a responsibility to all the people on the plantation and at the abbey. In those first days when all I wanted to do was run as far away as possible, the only thing that stopped me was remembering them. I haven’t figured everything out, but the first thing I’m going to do is buy Anarchy’s son and granddaughter and give them their liberty. Then I’ll find a way to free all the Wyndriven slaves so they’ll only stay there working for a salary if they want to. Of course obtaining freedom papers for so many is a complicated business, but Mr. Bass assures me that the money will help to pave the way.”
Gideon waggled his eyebrows. “All the neighbors will love that, won’t they? But they’ll get used to it. Well,” he said, stretching his arms in front of him, “it sounds like you’ve done a lot of thinking, but once again I’d urge you to not make any important decisions without giving yourself time. Except for the one thing I mentioned.”
“Mr. Bass has helped me with the thinking. He’s really wonderful now that he’s not following Monsieur de Cressac around like a dog who’s been kicked too often. When Junius and Anne come—I sent them a telegram and they sent one back saying they should arrive in the next few weeks—they’ll help too. All this is just what Junius does well. Anyway, to do all that, I really do need to keep the money.”
Gideon looked thoughtful. “Yes, you’re right. You know, I’ve wondered if, in the next few years, we ought to emigrate to the West. They need churches built out there. But we won’t go without being sure everyone you’re responsible for is well taken care of. Now, you still haven’t answered my question. Will you marry me?”
