Shae nodded miserably, too exhausted and upset to bother with a lie. “It was recent. After Ethan and I well, after everything that happened with the party.”
“You’re in love with Phillip, aren’t you?” The woman returned the empty bowl to Sally’s tray. “And Ethan knows of this?”
“I do love Phillip, and yes, Ethan knows. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did earlier this week.”
Mrs. Lowell rose, her lips pursed into a narrow line. “No, dear. I’m beginning to believe that you are not the one who should be sorry. If you’ll excuse me, I have another matter to attend.”
The older woman tucked a strand of gray into her neat blond chignon, then turned toward the maid. “I’m nowhere close to Miss Rowan in size, but I daresay you or Hildegard might be. Might you have something we could loan her, just for the time being?”
The girl nodded eagerly. “I’d be glad to, Mrs. Lowell.”
Though she was far from caring about clothing, Shae thanked the two of them. Mrs. Lowell nodded absently and swept out of the room. Shae looked after her and wondered what could have caused such haste.
*
When Shae heard the voices, she woke with the sure knowledge that something was very wrong. Her eyes, at first, refused to open, for her tearstained lashes gummed together. Rubbing them, she resolved that situation, though not her own apprehension.
It was Ethan’s voice she heard outside the door.
A quick glance toward the window showed the sky still dark. Night, and Ethan had come for her, as she had feared. But someone didn’t like it. She thought she recognized the young maid’s voice as well.
She reached to turn up the oil lamp’s tiny flame. If she had to face Ethan, it must not be in darkness. Serpents such as he must always fear the light. At least she wore a borrowed nightgown, for nothing made would make her feel so vulnerable as being naked in the face of Ethan’s want.
As the voices rose in volume, she decided to pull on the young man’s clothing still lying on a nearby chair. She was getting out of here as fast as possible.
“I don’t care what my mother said,” Ethan told someone. “You’ll go back to bed, and mind your own business . . . unless, that is, you’d prefer I told her the filthy thing you did.”
“No, you did!” The shrillness of the girl’s voice cut through the wood door like an axe, and Shae’s stomach clenched at her painful weeping. “You did it to me! It it wasn’t even natural. It wasn’t”
In stark contrast, Ethan’s voice was tight, controlled. “ You know perfectly well who’ll suffer if I tell them you seduced me. Do you really want the sordid details traveling the servants’ network all over Port Providence?”
“Port Pestilence, you mean! The storms, the yellow fever, the wickedness of men like you it’s a wretched place!” she wept.
“You have somewhere better to go? Or would you care to join the other refugees out in the streets? Just calm down. Now there’s a girl. All you have to do is go back to your bed. And don’t worry. She’ll keep me far too occupied to bother you again. Unless, of course, you decide you like it after all.”
Shae’s fingers struggled with each button. Her teeth clenched at Ethan’s treatment of the maid, as well as at his despicable plans to take advantage of her, right inside his parents’ house. She’d be damned if she did nothing more than mouth frail protests while he ravished her. She glanced around the room for something she might use to even the odds against a man who, for all his cowardice, still physically outmatched her.
Sally, however, relented all too soon, for Shae heard running footsteps fade just before Ethan stepped inside her room. Apparently surprised to see her out of bed and dressed, he neglected to completely close the door.
“Ah,” he said, “I see you were expecting me.”
She pointed her chin toward him like a dagger and raised her left hand, knuckles bared. “Get out of here, unless you want your nose bloodied again.”
He smiled and shook his head. “Always the unexpected with you, dear. But why fight? I’m here to help you.”
“You’re here to help yourself. That’s all you’ve ever offered me.”
“I’m here because I want us to be together, no matter what my parents say.”
“Don’t you mean because of what your parents say? Hasn’t that been the attraction all along? ‘Marry an Irish artisan won’t there be such a scandal?’ I can almost hear the little gears spin in your head.”
Despite her raised fist, he stepped forward, his own hands raised imploringly. “Of course not, Shae. Can’t you see I love you? Can’t you see I’d do anything at all for you?”
She stepped back, then edged toward the door, which still remained ajar. “If you’d do anything, then leave. I want no part of you. Most especially the part you have in mind.”
He moved to block her exit. “I want you, Shae, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”
“Most children learn this when they’re toddlers, but perhaps the very rich don’t have to. You can’thave everything you want and you especially can’t have me. For one thing, I find your presence physically revolting.”
He closed in on her. “But you don’t understand. I have to have you.”
“Like you had to have that poor girl?” Shae gestured angrily toward the hall. What could she say to convince him? “She didn’t seem impressed. Not nearly as impressed as I was when Phillip made love to me.”
“No!” As if her words physically pained him, Ethan clapped his hands over his ears.
Shae simply raised her voice, though tears accompanied each word. “And he didn’t have to rape me, either, to get what you feel so entitled to. We made love. We had love, if only for one evening . . . I could never let you touch me after Phillip! Never! Especially since I know that you paid to have him killed! Did you finally succeed, Ethan? Or did the storm finish your work for you?”
Emotion made her reckless, and by the time she finished, her forefinger jabbed the air only inches from his face. She gave way to her fury, let it blaze a blistering pathway through her grief.
“I wish I had killed the bastard! Don’t you see?” With every word, Ethan shook her harder, as a dog would shake a cat. “I had to tell those men to shoot him. There was no other way to convince him to sell me the business. There was no other way to convince Father he was wrong. I’m twice the man that Phillip Payton ever”
“ Enough! I’ve heard enough of this!” Augustus Lowell stormed into the room, still in his nightshirt. Behind him, Sally stood in the doorway, her face shining with tears.
Ethan suddenly released Shae, and she charged past him and down the corridor. She wanted no more of Ethan or his family, no more of Fairweather Manor! Heedless of her bare feet, she raced downstairs, then out the double doors.
She wasn’t certain where she was going, only of what she ran from. And for her, that was enough direction for a start.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A fallen tree limb checked Shae’s flight from the Lowell mansion before she’d even left the grounds. Sprawled on her belly in the ooze, Shae felt the pumping of her heart, the breath rasping through her lungs.
She had to stop, to think of where she was and where she might be going before she broke an ankle in her blind rush through the darkness. She pushed herself into a sitting position, stood, and brushed uselessly at the mud that stained the shirt and knickerbockers. Forcing her breathing to a more reasonable rate, she began to walk. The waning moon’s light was just enough to guide her if she moved carefully and avoided the areas of deep shadow.
She thought briefly of returning to the stables for Delilah, but then dismissed the notion. At night, without a bridle or sidesaddle, Shae had little chance of guiding the fractious animal around scattered debris. Better that the horse stay here, where Lowells’ grooms would feed and tend her. Maybe later Shae could sell the mare to buy a few necessities and passage from this city.
She couldn’t stay here anymore, she real
ized. Without Phillip, the best that she could hope for was a fair start in New Orleans in Trenton Hargraves’s jewelry store. All she had to do was find some way to get there after she cleared up some last details.
For her own sanity, she must find out what had happened to her family. Though she was still furious with both King and Aunt Alberta, she had to know if they still lived. She also must accept that now, even if her father had survived, she would doubtless never learn the details of her mother’s murder.
With the loss of her mother’s box of jewelry, Shae was now missing what little evidence she’d had. And with the entire peninsula in chaos, who would care about the case of a runaway wife from years before? While her accusations might raise suspicion, especially in light of Father’s well-known temper, he would never be indicted, would never come to trial.
She tried to imagine herself staying in Port Providence and going forward with her story anyway. The thought drew a ragged shudder. Without Phillip’s support, how could she be strong enough? Her eyelids squeezed shut against a painful jolt of memory. Without Phillip, how could she survive?
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes once more and started walking toward the shell of her old home. She would survive because she must, because one didn’t simply fade away from hardships.
An hour later, she found herself approaching Father’s shop on Commerce Street.
The sturdy, one-story brick building had been built on fairly high ground. If her family had escaped the town house and if the building still survived, they may have gone there.
Not only would it offer shelter, but King would have to guard it against anyone who might seek to take advantage of doors burst open during the flooding. Food, fresh water, and housing might be valuable commodities right now, but surely some would pause to stuff their pockets with any precious materials they might scavenge from a deserted jewelry shop. The finished pieces, along with gemstones and the gold, were locked inside a heavy safe at night, but under the circumstances, someone might even try to haul off the strongbox.
As she picked her way along dark streets, she occasionally caught a glimpse of other motion. Small groups of men stole past with furtive movements. They edged farther from her and looked away. She guessed they might be raiding, either for necessities or unguarded treasures. But she saw women, too, and children wandering the streets. Did they, like she, have no place to sleep in safety? Or were they seeking some lost loved ones?
She shrieked when someone grabbed her arm and spun her around. Before she could begin to fight, an old man’s desperate gaze stopped her reaction.
“Sara? Sara?! Oh, Dear Lord, you aren’t her at all! Forgive me, I was looking for my daughter. Her name’s Sara. If you see her, you’ll tell her I am looking?” The old man nodded his bandaged head. A spot of dark blood stained the frayed white fabric.
Too startled to speak, Shae nodded. She thought her heart might pound right through her chest.
Seemingly satisfied, the old man left her to disappear into the shadows. But now, he cried out his daughter’s name until the dark streets rang with that sad sound.
Her emotions were so raw, so near the surface, that she wept when she first spied S. Rowan Jewelers. The one-story building, remarkably, appeared undamaged. And when she ran closer, she saw one of the workshop windows lit soft yellow against the midnight gloom.
She didn’t stop running until she reached the back door. Once there, she pounded hard until she heard a woman’s frightened voice.
“If you’re a looter, I’m not alone in here. We have guns, and we’ll surely use them!”
“Not on me again, I hope!” Shae called.
From within, someone flung open the door. Her aunt stood before her, silhouetted by the lights from oil lamps. Evidently, the gas lighting no longer functioned.
“Is it really you, then?” Alberta’s features were invisible because of the poor light, but her voice held not a hint of welcome, only fear.
Why fear? Did she believe that Shae would send King to prison or the gallows? Or was it something else?
“I’m all right, Aunt Alberta,” Shae said, though something in her aunt’s expression kept her from closing the gap between them. “I was washed to sea, but I’ve come back now to see if you and Father are all right. I saw the house, and I was frightened for you.”
Alberta started visibly. “Mary? Mary Shae?”
“Of course. Who did you th” Shae bit off the word as realization struck her. Alberta had at first taken her for Glennis, despite the strong difference in their accents. Why? Was the old woman dazed with all that happened?
Alberta stunned her once again. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Where’s Father?” Shae asked when she recovered. She had to know if he was here. She didn’t truly wish to see him, but she wasn’t leaving until she knew for certain he’d survived.
Alberta turned enough that Shae could see her glower. “My brother’s dead, thanks to your whoredom. They found his body in the street not far from home.”
“He’s dead?” Shae echoed. It didn’t seem possible. How could even the fiercest hurricane silence Father’s rages? “He can’t be.”
“He’s dead because you killed him, as far as I’m concerned! He insisted upon going out after you, even though I told him you were nothing but an Irish slut, no better than Her.”
“He’s dead?” Shae’s mind had slowed. She couldn’t seem to move past that astounding point.
Alberta leveled a gaze at her so full of hatred that Shae shrunk back in fear. She thought about the rifle that father kept loaded in the office, and wondered if Alberta might know how to use it.
“I wished you’d drowned instead. I wish that you were dead just like your mother,” her aunt said just before she slammed and locked the door.
Shae’s mouth opened, and her fist reached out, but she could neither shout nor pound the door. For if Alberta opened it, she didn’t think that she could bear another word.
Still, shouldn’t she say something? Shouldn’t she do something? Her mind refused to focus on anything but the knowledge spinning through it: her father was dead, dead because he’d gone out after her.
Her hand dropped and she turned away from the shop where she had crafted so many things of beauty. She tried to summon the finest from among them: gold and silver, peridots and seed pearls, amethysts and agates, as if those sparkling memories might somehow obliterate the ugliness of Aunt Alberta’s words.
I wished you’d drowned instead.
*
Amazement washed through Justine, as it had several times during this last, seemingly endless day. Amazement that the simple tasks involved in helping others would so distract her from herself. Whether it was bringing a mud-stained refugee water or helping to soothe a frightened child, once she put these people’s needs first, her own faded into unimportance. And something important shifted, too, in those she brought relief. The expressions of pity, which she so despised, were absent, replaced with those of relief and gratitude.
Sister Josephine had given her an unimaginable gift when she had, almost forcibly, made her feel . . . Justine searched her mind for the right word. Useful, that was it. Useful and efficient. So this was what Phillip felt when helping patients. No wonder he’d been so reluctant to set medicine aside. No wonder he’d looked so confident as he’d treated them throughout the day.
Even when Adam and Mrs. Kelso returned to take Lydia home to complete her recuperation, Justine had decided to stay here, along with Phillip. For the first time in her life, she felt truly needed, and she wasn’t ready to put the experience behind her.
Still, she flinched when someone grabbed her sleeve. Old habits did not die so easily. When she turned and peered into a man’s face, she felt apprehensive. Was it just her shyness, or was there something in that stubbled cheek, those hard blue eyes?
Deliberately, she shook off her fear. This was no monster, merely a man in his early thirties, dirty from the storm, no doubt hungry
and thirsty as well. Though she saw no sign of it, he might even be injured.
At last finding her voice, she asked, “What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Sal Madsen. I come here lookin’ for my brother. His name’s Gabe. He’s got dark hair, a lot like mine. You seen him?”
Justine forced herself to look him in the eye. She’d heard similar conversations all day from desperate relatives seeking their missing family members. She’d watched Sister Josephine break bad news once, but mostly, they could offer nothing substantial. So many people were crowded in and around the infirmary that it was almost impossible to say who had been treated or even who was still in the building.
The man’s face, however, held no hint of desperation, no clue of grief just barely held in check. He might have been asking for the price of boots, or for the schedule of the next train into Houston. Perhaps, though, some men kept a tighter rein on their emotions.
“I’m afraid that there have been so many, we haven’t been able to keep up with names,” she told him. “Do you know for certain he’s been here?”
He nodded. “A friend told me he was, but he’s in bad shape. Maybe I could see the doctor.”
“There are several doctors working. Do you know the name?”
“Yes, Miss, it was Payton. Dr. Payton, I heard tell. You seen him lately?”
For the first time, Justine noticed the man’s muscular build, the skin, tanned almost to redness from years of outdoor work. Was he a dockworker? Might this man mean her brother harm?
As if he’d sensed her misgivings, Madsen took out a worn wallet and removed a faded photograph. A very young-looking man stood as stiffly as a taxidermist’s handiwork in a crisp Confederate uniform.
“That was some years back, of course,” Sal told her. “At the beginning of the war. Mama told Gabe he was too young to sign on, but you know boys and their ways. Can’t stand bein’ left behind. Soon as I went, he run off. Got his leg blowed off, too. I been sort of lookin’ after him since then. Mama made me promise I’d find Gabe by nightfall. She says she won’t sleep a wink until I’ve seen him breathin’.”
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