Rash Reckless Love, page 44
Bernice frowned as she peered at the handsome blue gown Sue was wearing. “You have come to return the necklace?” she asked, not understanding.
“Oh, no, ’tis mine to keep. And Anna gave me the gown as well. But of course the lapis earrings Chloe borrowed for the ball—oh, dear. I’m such a scatterbrain—I was supposed to bring them with me but I forgot!”
So the little chit had given away not only an expensive new ball gown but a handsome lapis necklace and was lending other jewelry about! Wrath rose in Bernice and her hands went cold as ice.
“My daughters and I will be over to pay our respects to your mother at Waite Hall,” she told Sue ironically. “In the meantime, Anna is not to be disturbed, for my husband’s health is precarious and only Anna seems able to care for him properly. If you will tell me your ‘news,’ I will convey the message.”
“Oh?” Sue looked daunted. “Well—never mind.” She was making haste to leave the presence of this tall dour woman. “It can wait until I see Anna.” She turned as she reached her carriage, remembering to dimple prettily. “We all hope you’ll be very happy here at Mirabelle and we know you will be as soon as your husband’s health improves—and we do look forward to receiving you and Anna at Waite Hall.”
Bernice watched Sue’s carriage start down the drive before closing the front door. The Waite girl was a nice enough little thing—she’d probably be a good companion for her own daughters, who needed bringing out. And the Waites were neighbors, even though some distance away, and landed gentry. Bernice retreated to the big living room, cool-shuttered against the afternoon sun, and sat down to plan her course of action.
But Sue’s carriage had not gone far. Halfway down the drive she had spied Anna looking out the window and waved wildly to her. Anna waved back and Sue pointed with one gloved hand to the grove of trees at the blind turn in the drive.
Anna understood. She nodded, and slipped out of the house unnoticed. She wound her way circuitously, so that she would not be seen from the house, to the grove of trees.
There, past the blind turn, Sue’s carriage was waiting for her, the driver already dozing in his seat in the heat.
Sue was standing impatiently by the carriage and she lifted her blue skirts and ran up to Anna as she arrived.
“Oh, Anna,” she cried breathlessly, “you won’t believe but Arthur and Mattie are married!”
If anything was calculated to stop Anna Smith in her tracks, that announcement was. “What?” she cried in astonishment. “When?”
“This afternoon—at our home,” said Sue importantly. “They got a special license. Mattie is ecstatic. She says they'll be going to Boston and—”
Anna felt dazed. “I mean,” she interrupted, “when did Arthur propose? They haven’t had time to become betrothed even if—” She stopped short of saying, even if Arthur were willing to marry Mattie, which he certainly wasn’t the night of the ball!
“I know! It happened so fast!” Sue leaned forward conspiratorially and dropped her voice so the sleepy driver wouldn't hear her. “I suppose I might as well tell you,” she giggled. "You’re bound to find out anyway, the way servants talk around here. Arthur’s taken Mattie riding every morning since the ball—”
As I made him promise to do, thought Anna. I wanted him to show her attention—but this! She could hardly credit it.
“At first they’d be gone only a short time and then Arthur would bring Mattie back and talk to us all pleasantly and go back to the inn in St. George, but this morning”—her blue eyes danced—“it seems that as they passed under some cedars, Mattie got swept off her horse by a low-hanging branch and she fell into some brush and tore her dress pretty badly. And Arthur’s Cousin Walter just happened to be riding along in the same direction.”
Keeping an eye on Arthur! thought Anna grimly. .
“And it wasn’t but a moment or two before Walter came riding up and he saw Arthur trying to help Mattie up where she’d got herself tangled in the underbrush and”—Sue giggled— “Walter was sure Arthur was attacking Mattie—I can’t imagine why—even though she insisted he was only trying to help her. But her dress and her chemise were torn pretty badly—Mamma said it was a scandal because Mattie’s chemise was near rent from shoulder to waist—and Walter was so furious that he wouldn’t even let Mattie try to repair her clothes. He just threw his cloak over her and dragged them both back home and informed Mamma that Arthur had ruined her daughter!” She choked back her laughter.
“I wouldn’t put it past him to try,” cut in Anna. “He certainly tried—” She stopped, coloring.
Sue dissolved in helpless laughter. “Oh, I doubt he did this time, no matter what he’s tried with others. Because—you must never tell this, Anna, Mattie would kill me if you did, but she was so excited about Arthur dancing with her all night and then coming over every day to take her riding—I mean, no one has ever noticed her before. And she told me last night—I’ll never forget how triumphant she looked, saying it—that she was sure Arthur was in love with her but was too shy to say so.”
“Arthur—shy?” Anna fell back against a tree bole for support.
“And this you must never tell.” Sue leaned forward conspiratorially. “You promise'?”
“I promise.” Solemnly.
“Well, last night Mattie said Mamma wouldn’t have to worry about her being an old maid, she’d figured out how to bring things to a head!”
“No!” breathed Anna, her eyes widening in horror as she got the drift of what Mattie must have intended.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” chuckled Sue. “Who’d have thought it of backward little Mattie? Wouldn’t it be rich if that was the way it happened?”
Anna could think of nothing worse than being married to Arthur Kincaid, by fair means or foul!’“But didn’t your mother believe Mattie when she told her nothing had happened?” she asked slowly.
"Not the way Mattie told her,” giggled Sue. “Oh, Mattie said the words, all right, while Arthur stood there white-faced with his big Cousin Walter’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. Mattie said—between sobs—that Arthur had never touched her, oh, they weren’t to think that of poor Arthur, oh, he mustn’t be made to suffer—and on and on until even I almost believed he’d been out there tearing her clothes off and she was too softhearted to let him take his licks for it. Mamma was just beside herself. I was afraid she’d have a stroke. She stuck her jaw out at Arthur and she talked to him through her teeth and she said she’d see him married to Mattie or hanged—he could take his choice. And by then Papa was back and Mamma got him all excited and he roared that he’d rather see the boy strung up than married to flesh of his!”
“I would have liked to see Arthur’s face when your father said that,” admitted Anna weakly, succumbing to an imaginary vision of Arthur’s furious white face. “I have no doubt Arthur made the right decision—and saved his life.”
Oh, yes, indeed. Arthur chose marriage and Walter and Papa dragged him into St. George and they got a special license and marshaled Arthur right back home between them and the marriage took place at our house this afternoon! And they’re off, spending their wedding night at his Cousin Walter’s, although Arthur looked as if he wanted to kill us all—and Walter most of all. So he’s back at Lilymeade after leaving for no reason—although tomorrow he comes back to us with his bride. Oh, I couldn’t wait to tell you, Anna. Now that it’s all over and Mattie is married to what Mamma calls a real ‘catch,’ Mamma is cool as a cucumber and planning to stitch up some new clothes for Mattie before she goes to Boston. She’s even talking about visiting Mattie there—do you think Arthur will have her?” Again Sue collapsed with heartless laughter. “And Chloe is so furious that Mattie has beaten her to the altar that she’s taken to her bed and refuses to eat.”
That reminded Anna how hollow her own stomach felt; she’d forgotten to eat again as she cared for Papa Jamison. She told Sue as much.
“I’d forgotten to ask,” said Sue contritely. “How is Mr. Jamison?”
“A little better,” said Anna slowly. “But not very much.”
Sue gave Anna’s shoulder a sympathetic pat. “I forgot to bring back the lapis earrings Chloe borrowed from you,” she said. “They were in her jewel box when I took her some hot broth. Mamma said I must somehow quiet her nerves or she’d have the whole house in an uproar, and broth seemed the best thing.”
“There’s no hurry to return the earrings,” shrugged Anna. “I’ll pick them up next time I call.” No need to tell Sue the humiliating truth—that she’d been reduced to the status of maid around here!
“You’re so generous, Anna,” said Sue wistfully. “I wish I had your generosity—and even more than that, I wish I had your style! Anyone else would have been brokenhearted to lose Arthur. Mattie can’t believe her good luck!”
“I hope it is good luck,” sighed Anna. This, she thought, would teach her not to meddle in other people’s lives. Poor Mattie would find she had traded a kindly halfwit for a brutal young fop who did not love her. And the blame, Anna knew, could be laid squarely at her door.
Sunk in thought, she roused herself at Sue’s curious question. “How are you getting along with Bernice? I was astonished that she wouldn’t let me see you.”
“Bernice won’t let anybody call on me,” said Anna tersely. “I haven’t had a single visitor since she arrived. I’ve seen people riding away that I know must have come to see me—Grenfell and loads of others. I don’t know what she says to them, but she never tells me they called.”
“She just brushes them off like she did me,” Sue informed her. “I know because Grenfell rode by and complained to me about it—as if I could do anything about it! What’s she like, Anna?”
“She’s a terrible woman.” Anna did not feel she could truly unburden herself to Sue; if she did she might burst into tears and never stop crying.
“Oh? What’s she done?” Sue looked alarmed.
“She’s dismissed Artemis, our overseer who’s been here forever, for one thing. She’s upset the whole household and turned Doubloon out to work in the fields!”
“I can’t believe it!” breathed Sue. “But Doubloon is your maid!”
“Not anymore,” flashed Anna. “If Papa Jamison doesn’t get better soon....” She shook her bright head hopelessly.
“Well, you can always come and live with us,” Sue told her vigorously.
Anna gave her friend a bitter smile. Sue’s mother would have something to say about that!
“Then you really aren’t the least bit upset that you’ve lost Arthur?” prodded Sue.
“Not the least little bit. Will they be going to Boston soon?”
“No, I don’t think so. Arthur doesn’t want to leave until Mattie's dowry is all arranged and since we’ve no loose cash, it will all have to wait until Papa can sell his lumber in England. It may take months.”
At least Mattie would be living at home, and if Arthur turned out too badly she could refuse to go to Boston with him, thought Anna with a shudder.
“I do hope,” said Sue plaintively, “that I’m as lucky with Lance. I haven’t seen him in the last couple of days.” She gave her friend a sidewise look. “Have you seen Lance, Anna? I mean, I know Bernice hasn’t allowed anyone to call but have you seen him riding away from the house?”
Now Anna knew the main thrust of Sue’s call. She was checking up on Lance!
“Not since the ball,” she told Sue. And that was almost true. Until today she had not seen Lance, although she’d heard through the servants that Lance had called and been turned away by Bernice, as had Grenfell and Ross earlier. Grenfell, undaunted, had been back twice. When Sue looked as though she didn’t quite believe her, Anna added carelessly, “Perhaps there’s work to do at home and that’s why he hasn’t called. He’s only just next door, Sue. Why don’t you find some excuse to look in on him? Get some advice about a horse or something?” That surely was the way to horsey Lance’s heart!
“Oh—I have,” admitted Sue. “But twice he was out... I just thought he might have come over here.” Sue’s face cleared as if that were a load off her mind. “But since he didn’t, I guess he really did have work to do. I did expect him to come calling on me, but you’re right, I suppose—he’s just busy. I know the Talbots have received a new mare from England to breed with their big roan stallion. I haven’t seen her but she’s had a long voyage and I guess Lance feels he must exercise her and get her in good shape before she’s bred.”
Lance had left Mirabelle not an hour before. From the window Anna had seen him as he had ridden away on the dancing new mare.
“Why don’t you go over as soon as you get back and say you couldn’t wait to see the new mare, and ask Lance to tell you all about her?”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Sue, springing back into her carriage without waiting for the sleepy driver to assist her. “If I hurry, I can be over there and back before suppertime.” Anna gave her friend a sympathetic look as the carriage rolled away with Sue waving gaily. What would it be like, she asked herself, to marry a man who loved money more than hot kisses? Or a plantation such as Mirabelle more than a woman? Or his horses better than his wife? She hoped she would never have to find out.
Whatever happened to her, she told herself passionately, she must be first with the man she loved. He must love her better than anything, better than anyone.
First... it was worth dying for.
CHAPTER 32
Through the long days of summer Tobias Jamison held on. Anna did too. She was tempted to run away, to stow away on one of the tall white ships that put in at St. George’s harbor, a ship that could carry her away—anywhere. But it tore at her heart to leave the only father she had ever known—kindly Tobias Jamison. She could not do it.
Day after day she cared for him, tended him, read to him—and talked to him for hours, detailing not her troubles but her world as it might have been—if he had never sailed to Jamaica, if he had not married there and brought home a wife.... She spoke in laughing confidential whispers of suitors and parties—and always made some blithe explanation for her ragged tired appearance.
She did not know if Tobias believed her or not, for he never regained his power of speech, but if he was going to die—and of that she was now sure—then he was going to carry with him to the next world pleasanter last memories than those of a neglectful wife and careless slipshod servants.
So Anna smiled and lied glibly to Tobias—and when his eyelids flickered shut in sleep, she would steal away to her narrow cot and listen to cook’s stentorous snoring, for Bernice had locked the antechamber where she might have slept, believing it to be full of valuable articles that Anna might make off with.
Tormented by cook’s snores, on warm nights Anna often stole out onto the broad veranda and slept there, huddled in a corner lest Bernice, who patrolled the house like a watchful dog, look out and see her and forbid her this last small comfort, a little corner of her own, however humble.
Sometimes of nights on the veranda she looked up at the white moon sailing serenely overhead and asked herself how her world, which had seemed so secure, could have been overturned in a single night... and the white moon with its bland and ancient face gave her no answers.
August came and with it some rainy days. Anna woke on one such morning to see that rain last night had left the green leaves of the bougainvillaea and the oleanders dripping, rain had run in rivulets down the gleaming whitewashed roof slates, down the gutters into the big cistern, where the goldfish scurried about keeping the big stone catchment clean of algae. But by mid-morning the skies had cleared and Anna, desperately in need of a change, slipped away, leaving one of the maids to tend Tobias.
She felt safe in doing this because Bernice had left while it was still drizzling, announcing that she would be going into St. George and would not be back till nightfall.
Such an opportunity was not to be missed. Anna had hurried out the back door, run to the stables and ridden Floss down toward the sea. When they reached the shore, she had let the dainty mare pick her way along the surf, shying now and then at an unfriendly-looking bit of driftwood or some sea creature cast upon the shore.
Dismounting, she lay on her face on the warm sand in the shadow of a battered stone promontory. Then after a while she sat up and sat with her knees drawn up and her chin in her hands and stared out toward the reefs. How changed her own world was and yet—how unchanging this one. These were still the green and pleasant islands discovered around 1515 by the Spaniard Juan de Bermúdez, those reefs out there were the graveyard of countless ships that had smashed their hulls in wild storms upon the sharp-toothed coral. She could almost wish herself out there, for treasure ships had gone down in that sea, Spanish galleons of the treasure flota striking out from the New World for Spain had left their bones there—and their gold and silver and jade and emeralds. Great wealth lay sunken in those depths but the turquoise blue waters kept well their secrets and who knew where it lay?
At the moment she felt that if she knew where one of those treasure ships lay she would dive on it, even if she were devoured by shades or barracuda. It would be worth the risk, just the hope of rising from the foam gasping but with perhaps a salt-encrusted necklace in her hand—the price of passage away from this place.
Her descent into her private hell had not been gradual; it had been like falling downstairs—one hard thump after another.
The first week of Papa Jamison’s illness Anna had been too numb, too busy to notice much of anything.
The second week she had come out into the hallway to see Juney, one of the house servants, staggering out of her room beneath a huge burden of velvets and silks and ruffles that she recognized, startled, as her own clothes.
“What are you doing with my things, Juney?” she had demanded.
Juney had stopped and rolled her eyes at Anna. “Mis’ Bernice says we got to remake them to fit her daughters.”
“She does, does she?” Anna had whirled and run outside to confront Bernice on the front steps, where the older woman was just coming in from riding. “How dare you take my things without asking me?” she had cried, her voice high and accusing. “Those dresses are mine!"
