Stages of Desire

by Julia Tagan

  “From whom?”

  Morris wouldn’t answer. Percy was a young lawyer from a prominent family, and Catherine had considered him a friend at a time when she’d been desperate for a kind word. In France, a gentleman acquaintance wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow, but apparently Catherine had missed yet another subtle rule of stateside etiquette. And she hadn’t realized the extent of Morris’s brutality, or how he had out-maneuvered her in every way.

  “What happens once you’ve gotten rid of me? You’ll marry someone socially superior?”

  “I will be open to the idea. As you know, I’m not the kind of man who makes the same mistake twice.”

  Catherine stifled the urge to scream in frustration. Instead, she rose and left the room. Once Morris set his mind to something, it was difficult to change it and she needed time to think.

  In her bedchamber on the second floor, she walked in circles, like a caged animal. When Morris purchased the estate six months ago, perched among acres of farmland and craggy rocks ten miles north of town, she’d happily overseen each detail of the house’s restoration, painting her bedchamber a brilliant turquoise blue that was all the rage in Europe. This evening the color seemed garish and cold.

  She doubted he would keep his end of the bargain and give her enough money to live on once she’d made the journey to the West Indies. She’d heard rumors in France that Morris wasn’t the most trustworthy businessman. It was probably one of the reasons they’d come to New York to make a fresh start. If she followed his command, she’d end up destitute in a foreign place.

  Morris was dangerous and she had to escape from his clutches, but how on earth would she manage? It was maddening to be surrounded by luxury yet have no funds of one’s own. To get far enough away, she needed to act fast and take with her something valuable yet easily concealed.

  In a flash, the answer came to her: Morris’s revered bottle of 1780 Chateau d’Yquem, kept at their townhouse on Pearl Street. Catherine couldn’t count the number of times he’d displayed the bottle to visitors, going on at great length about the wine’s superiority. Even better, he would be devastated by its loss.

  Catherine instructed Mrs. Daggett not to bother her, as she was retiring for the evening. She opened her armoire and stuffed several of her gowns and petticoats into a portmanteau, only pausing when she heard the heavy stomp of Morris heading down the hall to his own bedchamber.

  Once the servants’ voices had died down, replaced by the mansion’s usual creaks and groans, she crept down the grand stairway. Her heart banged hard against her corset as she unbolted the lock of the front door and pulled it shut behind her. In the stables, she led the bay from the stall and harnessed him to the small phaeton, as she’d seen the groomsman, Davis, do time and time again.

  Catherine had driven the route south to town many times with Morris, and he’d always encouraged her to take the reins. In less than two hours she’d reach the townhouse and the Yquem. After spending the night at her friend Theodosia’s, she’d escape out of town first thing in the morning, before anyone discovered she was missing.

  But the journey proved difficult. The horse stumbled several times, forcing Catherine to slow her pace. She focused on the road ahead, but Morris’s hard words echoed in her mind. She was no different from his bottle of Yquem, an accessory to show off. At times when they were in Paris she’d felt like a gaily-colored parrot brought out to perform each day. Yet Catherine had tried to please, until they came to New York and Morris realized he’d made a terrible mistake.

  Catherine jolted forward and almost tumbled over the dash. The carriage had stopped short, leaning precariously to the right. Sick with panic, she snapped the reins, urging the horse out of the rut. If only she’d paid more attention to the road. She jumped down from the seat and ran to the front of the horse’s head. He whinnied and impatiently stomped his front feet but didn’t seem to be hurt.

  “There, there.” Catherine stroked his nose. Once he was calm, she made her way to the other side of the carriage. The wheel was deep in the mud at the side of the road. She’d veered off course in the darkness.

  Catherine had always been a strong girl. A childhood of hard work had given her defined arm muscles and a strong back. She stepped into the mud, fretting over the damage to her shoes, and attempted to push the carriage from the back, gee-ing up the horse with her voice, but it was impossible.

  Catherine stopped pushing. She stood in the center of the road and glanced around. There were only scoundrels and robbers out at this time of night. In the phaeton she’d have speed on her side, but stranded in the darkness anything could happen. Something howled. She couldn’t tell if it was a dog or a wolf, but it sounded awfully close.

  The horse whinnied again, and the howling grew louder in response. The bay’s eyes rolled back in his head and foam formed on the edges of his mouth. The horse was panicking, and if he bolted or reared, he might overturn the carriage and seriously injure himself.

  Catherine stroked the horse’s nose to soothe him, but he became even more agitated. She unfastened the buckles attached to the harness and barely avoided getting stepped on by his enormous hooves. She loosened the last buckle and led the bay forward, away from the carriage. He became even more nervous, and jerked his head back to get out of her grip.

  “One of us will be all right.” She let go of the harness and watched as the bay cantered off back to the mansion. Davis would be surprised to see him outside the barn in the morning, but the horse would be safe. If she had to, she’d walk all the way to New York.

  The bay disappeared into the darkness, his hooves echoing in the night. To her astonishment, the sound seemed to get louder, not fade. She cocked her head and realized another horse was approaching from the south. Catherine was alone on a vast stretch of deserted road. There was nowhere to hide, and even if she did, the carriage would certainly attract attention. She stared into the distance and gripped the carriage with one hand.

  She strained her eyes to see what she faced: a band of robbers looking for easy prey under the cover of night, or perhaps a couple of drunken sots returning from a long night of carousing. Either way, she’d be at their mercy. Catherine bit her lip. If only the moon had been brighter, if only she’d kept a sharper eye on what was ahead of her. The safety of her room seemed far away. She shivered.

  A dark shape slowly formed into that of a horse and rider. As the rider spotted the carriage, he slowed his mount to a walk. The man rode with an easy grace, and he was young, with wide shoulders and long arms.

  “Do you need help?” His voice was rich and deep. There was something about the timbre of it that left Catherine slightly weak-kneed, as if the vibrations affected her physically.

  “Yes,” she said in what she hoped was her most imperious tone. “As a matter of fact I do. It seems my carriage is stuck.”

  He pulled close and peered down at her. “Not only that, it appears you forgot to hitch up a horse to it.”

  Catherine huffed in frustration. “My horse was panicking, he heard a wolf or some other animal. I had to set him free or he would’ve gotten injured.”

  The man wore a dark blue fitted frockcoat and gray breeches. Brown hair curled out from under his hat, and although his clothes were slightly worn, they were well made and his boots finely polished. Perhaps she’d come upon a gentleman. Or someone who appeared to be one.

  “And what in God’s name are you doing out alone this time of night?”

  “Quite frankly, that is not your concern.” Catherine’s voice shook a little, but she had been spoken to like a child by Morris long enough and had had quite enough of it. “I’m on my way to New York.”

  “You should’ve waited until morning.”

  “I’m aware of my vulnerability. As a woman alone I would hope to appeal to your good graces. If you help me, I’d be happy to repay you for your time.”

  Instead of answer
ing, the man dismounted, landing softly on the ground. Catherine watched as he took off his jacket and placed it over the saddle. He rolled up his sleeves, looking at Catherine in a way that made her feel strangely superfluous, and stepped to the side of the carriage. He leaned over and examined the rut where the wheel was caught. From behind, Catherine couldn’t help but admire the shape of the man’s back and legs. They were long legs with defined sinew and muscle, not the tree trunk legs of Morris.

  “The wheel is stuck,” said Catherine. “But perhaps if we can get it out of the rut, we could harness your horse to the carriage, and drive in together.”

  “You don’t even know who I am and you’re willing to let me take over your carriage?”

  “It’s an urgent matter. I must get to town tonight.”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  Catherine let out a sigh of relief. “That is so kind of you, sir. I do appreciate it.”

  The man took off the horse’s saddle, laid it carefully on the ground and harnessed his mount to the carriage. He handed her the reins and went around to the back. She stood off to the side and gave the reins a snap as the man pushed from behind. To her surprise, on the second try, the carriage lurched forward over the rut and settled on the road proper.

  “Well done!” she said, beaming. One hurdle overcome. Many more to go, but she was on her way.

  The man pointed north. “There’s a house called the Mount, owned by Mr. Morris Delcour, a few miles that way where you can spend the night. I’m sure someone there will be able to attend to you in the morning.”

  How did this man know her home? He stood close to her, too close. His features were strong and regular, with a fine curved lip. Catherine would have remembered him if he’d been one of Morris’s business colleagues, or any of the people she’d met after arriving from France.

  “But you said we would go to town,” she said.

  “You’re mistaken. I said I’d take a look at your carriage, and that’s what I did.”

  “I’m afraid going north won’t do, not at all. You see, I’m expected in New York. If I don’t arrive...” She trailed off. What if she didn’t arrive? No one knew where she was. No one cared where she was. Her stomach tightened into a knot.

  “I’m expected to the north. And I’m late as it is. So you have two choices, it would appear,” he said. “You can walk south, or you can drive with me north.”

  Catherine put her hands on her hips and looked up at the stars. She couldn’t go back to the house like a runaway dog with its tail between its legs. Morris would laugh and call her stupid and incompetent, before sending her away for good to God knows where.

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” she said, stalling for time.

  “My name is Benjamin. Benjamin Thomas.” His voice resonated even when he spoke softly.

  “And where are you headed, Mr. Thomas?”

  “I’m traveling for business.”

  “That’s rather vague.”

  “Is this how you repay a good Samaritan?” Mr. Thomas leaned against the carriage and crossed his arms. “You’re lucky you were discovered by me and not someone else. I would think you’d be more grateful.”

  “A good Samaritan would take a lady where she wanted to go.”

  “Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

  He moved to the side of the carriage and held out his hand. Catherine reached out and was surprised at how it enveloped her own. She had always believed her hands and feet were far too large, but this man’s made her own feel quite dainty. Catherine gathered her skirts with her free hand and settled into the seat.

  Mr. Thomas picked up his saddle from the roadway. As he made his way around to the back of the carriage to store it on the rear rack, she gave the reins a sharp snap and the carriage heaved forward without him.

  Catherine urged the horse to canter on and focused on the road in front of her. She felt terrible leaving him stranded like that, particularly after he’d stopped to assist her, but returning to the Mount was not an option. He knew where it was, and could reach it on foot. The moon was shining brightly now, and she reassured herself with the thought that he’d have plenty of light as he made his way.

  Something thumped hard on the back of the carriage. Before she could turn around to see what was going on, a body hurtled into the seat next to her. She screamed and pulled the horse to a sharp halt, and Mr. Thomas crumpled to the floor of the carriage, his head by her feet and his legs landing hard in her lap.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He clutched at the dash and awkwardly righted himself.

  Catherine shoved his legs off and huddled as far in the corner of the seat as she could. In the small phaeton, they were already practically on top of each other. “What on earth? What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “You could’ve killed me!”

  “I didn’t expect you to go leaping onto the back of the carriage like a madman.”

  “And I didn’t expect you to steal my horse.”

  “I wouldn’t have stolen it. I would’ve returned it to you somehow. I was only borrowing it.”

  “You’re quite mad.”

  “You have no idea.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. He rubbed his shoulder. “Are you quite finished? It’s been a rather long day and I’d like to get on my way.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride. Now give me the reins, and let’s have enough of this nonsense.”

  Reluctantly, Catherine handed over the reins and stared straight ahead while Mr. Thomas, with a quick flick of his wrist, turned the carriage north.

  * * * *

  On the ride back to the Mount, Mr. Thomas didn’t speak, and neither did Catherine. Once, when the carriage hit a particularly large bump, Catherine caromed into him. A strange spark traveled through her body and she picked up the scent of horses and leather and something faintly sweet, like vanilla, before pulling away.

  He turned the carriage down the cyprus-lined driveway. In the distance, the house rose up in front of them. In the past, Catherine had taken delight in this particular view of the Mount, with its stately white columns and large portico. The architecture was symmetrical and solid.

  Tonight, though, the house seemed ostentatious and ominous. The two chimneys jutted up into the dark sky on either side of the widow’s walk and its large windows resembled empty, black eyes. Luckily, Morris snored terribly and preferred to sleep with the windows shut, which might prevent him from hearing their approach. The faster she could get rid of Mr. Thomas, the better.

  Davis emerged from the house, rubbing the back of his head and yawning. Mr. Thomas startled when she called Davis by name, and stood back as she informed the sleepy old man she’d had a mishap on Bloomingdale Road and the bay was most likely standing in front of the barn door.

  “After you’ve put the bay away, please take care of this man who kindly helped me.” She turned to face Mr. Thomas. “Thank you sir, for your assistance. Davis will help you get back on your way.”

  Davis, shaking his head, shuffled off to the stable.

  “You live here?” Mr. Thomas asked, incredulously. For the first time, to Catherine’s satisfaction, he seemed confused.

  “I am the lady of the house, yes. I am Mrs. Catherine Delcour.”

  His face broke into a wide grin and he put his head back and laughed. So he had heard of her, heard the snide remarks and mockery everyone in town had entertained themselves with the past six months.

  “Is that so amusing to you, Mr. Thomas? I’m glad my predicament is a source of such entertainment.”

  He smiled and took a step toward her. “Your predicament is now my predicament, Mrs. Delcour.”

  Catherine’s head began to spin, most likely from the lack of food and sleep and the excitement of the past few hours. “Yo
u aren’t making any sense. What on earth do you mean?”

  “Luckily, there’s plenty of time for me to explain, as I’ll be staying here with you at the Mount.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so. Under no circumstances will I have a stranger in my house. My husband would never allow it. Who do you think you are?”

  “Please allow me to introduce myself,” he said with a flourish. “I am your brother-in-law, and Mr. Delcour has hired me to keep an eye on you. And from what I can tell, it looks like I arrived just in time.”