by Joann Simon
"And at that I would have loved to see her face!" Christopher didn't try to disguise his laughter, "Never fear, someday you will have your revenge for all this."
As they entered the drawing room, a quick perusal of the room told Jessica that Rhea Taylor was not there.
Her apprehension eased a bit—but not entirely, as she noticed the stares directed their way by other guests.
Christopher, too, observed. "Remember I will remain at your side," he whispered.
Although the bulk of the Richardsons' artwork was displayed in the adjacent gallery, several paintings hung on the drawing room walls, and Christopher led Jessica in that direction. As they paused before a Vandyke on loan from the collection of John Astor, Christopher spoke quietly. "I see several businessmen here whom I have spoken to since our return to New York, so I do not think we will be ignored."
"Thank heaven for that. I'm a stranger, but most of these people know you, and to have them act as though we were both invisible . . . "
"To give them the benefit of the doubt, their reticence may be due in part to their momentary shock at seeing us together."
Jessica gave him a wry smile.
As they moved on to view the next masterpiece, Jessica glanced to the doorway just in time to see Rhea Taylor entering—on the arm of none other than Jerome Weitz. Instantly remembering her accidental encounter with Weitz at the Beards' ball and the kindness he'd shown, Jessica found her shock doubled, seeing him escorting Rhea Taylor. Rhea looked magnificent in an elegantly simple gold satin gown that would have attracted attention on its own merits, without the enhancement of the woman who wore it.
"Well, it would appear Rhea has wasted no time in finding another suitable connection," Christopher remarked in a dry tone. "Although I did not realize she and Weitz were well acquainted."
Jessica only nodded, too surprised and disconcerted by the entrance of her husband's former fiancee to think to mention to Christopher that she had met Jerome Weitz.
"A step up for her, actually," Christopher went on to elarify. "Weitz is easily one of the wealthiest men in this city—a banker of some repute."
She heard her husband's words, but her attention was riveted on Rhea as the lovely young woman and her escort moved from the doorway toward a group of acquaintances, who greeted them warmly.
"Their reception is a bit different from ours," Jessica remarked. "It seems the guests have already taken sides." "Relax. It is early yet." Christopher placed a reassuring hand over her cold fingers where they gripped his arm.
"I know. I feel foolish getting so upset, but seeing her enter that doorway . . . she. seems so utterly self-confident, Christopher."
"I have a feeling some of that confidence is only a facade. She has to be feeling as much strain as we are."
"Do you think she will come over?" "Under the circumstances, I seriously doubt it, and if she should, there is nothing in such an encounter that you are not fully capable of handling."
That Rhea had seen Christopher and Jessica was evidenced by the sly glances in their direction made by the people with whom Rhea was speaking; yet Rhea never looked their way or gave any acknowledgment.
Jerome Weitz, already deep in conversation with another gentle-man, was not a party to the activity around Rhea.
"Come," Christopher spoke then with almost a sigh of relief. "I see Robert Bayard has arrived. Let us go speak with him and take your mind off the other."
In fact Bayard was already walking toward them, a wide smile on his face. "Ah, my friend, and his beautiful wife —so good to see you." He took Jessica's hand, his appreciation evident in his eyes. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you both here this evening." The full meaning of his words escaped neither of them. "A wise decision on your part, Dunlap, although a trifle uncomfortable, I would suspect."
"A trifle, but I thought this our only course."
"Indeed. And how is everything going with you, Jessica?" he said, turning slightly to face her. "This evening apart, you are still favorably impressed with this city of ours?"
"Very much so."
"And the boy? How is he adjusting? It is easy to imagine that the move and the events leading up to it might feel a bit tumultuous to a child his age."
"Actually, he seems right at home. He is so thrilled to have his father with us again."
"I would say his father himself is rather thrilled."
"Am I that obvious, Robert?" But Christopher winked and drew Jessica closer to his side.
As the three chatted together, at last they were approached by others who were not of Rhea's circle. The first were the business acquaintances Christopher had mentioned, towing somewhat hesitant wives whose curiosity had gotten the better of them. As stiff and forced as her smile felt to her own lips, Jessica did her best to be charming and polite to those to whom she was introduced. There was no overt rudeness toward her, although the tension in the air was almost palpable, and Jessica could read the unasked questions in the women's eyes, particularly as they tried so obviously to skirt around the glaring issues that were foremost in their minds. How had husband and wife come to be separated to begin with? What was a man of Christopher's caliber doing married to a serving maid? And who was this serving maid, who obviously possessed the social graces? What was the unspoken mystery in both their backgrounds? Most important, whose story should they believe? Rhea Taylor's accusations that the man had acted without principle? Or the Dunlaps' own story of tragic separation and joyous reunion? The Dunlaps certainly gave no appearance of having something to hide; their happiness with each other seemed obvious, and their actions demonstrated no guilt or shame.
Rhea never approached them, for which Jessica thanked her lucky stars, and Rhea's social manners were too polished to allow her, by any outward sign except ignoring them, to display her fury and chagrin at encountering Christopher and his wife socially when, no doubt, she'd hoped fervently that all doors would be shut to them.
Rhea was having some success in her mission, however, in that the crowd now seemed equally divided: those in Rhea's circle, who ignored them; and those who had made gingerly overtures.
When Bayard left them and they were, for the moment, alone, Christopher seized the respite to lead Jessica toward the adjacent gallery. Nearly alone together, they slowly strolled and studied the fine paintings adorning the walls.
In the solitude, with her husband's arm in hers, Jessica finally began to relax a little.
"It has been a difficult few hours for you." Christopher placed his arm around her waist and drew her against his side.
rtFor you, too," she sighed. "I'm so glad Robert came over to us. It seemed to break the ice."
"As I am sure he intended it should. We need only stay a few more minutes, then we can politely take our leave. I believe we have accomplished our mission."
"Do you think? Even the people who did approach us— with the exception of your business friends—were not particularly warm."
"But they came and spoke to us; that is the important part. We have not been ostracized, although there may always be those who turn their backs. We do not need them." "You're right; and at least now you don't have to fear for jour business interests."
"I was just as concerned about you. I did not want to see you isolated. We have plans for building a home in Connecticut, where you have many friends, but until then you will need some contacts in New York." She snuggled her head against his shoulder. ' Have you seen enough?" he spoke quietly. "'Yes. I only wish I was in a better state of mind to appreciate all this art."
With a gentle pressure at her waist, Christopher turned her back toward the drawing room.
"Let me just go freshen up before we face that crowd again."
"Shall I wait for you here, or in the drawing room?"
"The drawing room's fine, as long as you don't get lost in
the crowd."
"I promise not to."
Jessica made her way down the hall from the gallery to the bedroom s
he'd been told had been set aside for the women guests. The room was empty but for a maid who sat in a chair to one corner. Jessica went to the mirror, straightened a curl or two of hair, resecured a pin, then pinched her cheeks to bring some color to her face. The previous few hours of tension had left her pale. She smoothed her gown one last time and moved to the door. Just as she reached for the handle, the door swung open.
She stepped back quickly to get out of the way, then froze in her tracks. There stood Rhea Taylor; and it was clear her surprise was as great as Jessica's. Then a slow, derisive smile touched the woman's lips.
"My, my, of all people to bump into—the eminent Mrs. Dunlap."
For a moment Jessica was too stunned to respond.
"What a quiet mouse you are. Have you nothing to say? But then I forget. With your country ways, you are probably quite awed by New York society."
"As a matter of fact, quite the contrary, Miss Taylor. If you will excuse me." Jessica made to step by Rhea, but Rhea stood firmly in the doorway.
"No need to run away. As long as we are face to face, I might as well say what is on my mind. I was quite surprised to see you and Christopher here this evening. I must give you credit for courage, in any event.
Were I you, I do not know that I could hold my head up. Everyone here is well aware of his behavior during your separation. Of course, he believed you dead . . . is that not the story?"
"As well as the truth."
"Deceive yourself as you will, but I must warn you, you are playing out of your depth."
"You do not know me well enough to make a statement like that; nor am I afraid of your threats."
Rhea lifted her brows airily, although she was obviously irked by Jessica's ability to defend herself. "That is not a threat but a statement of fact—and one wonders what you were doing these last two years. You have certainly played up this woeful tale of being forced into service. Perhaps a few inquiries might bring out a far more interesting story."
"Feel free to inquire, if you care to waste your time. I certainly have nothing to hide. If you will excuse me, Miss Taylor, I really must go. My husband is waiting for me."
With head high, Jessica stepped past Rhea, and forced her steps to remain measured as she moved down the hallway toward the drawing room. She knew Rhea was watching her, and she knew she should not let the woman's words bother her. She had expected a confrontation, and realized that anything Rhea said was prompted by a vindictive anger. As Jessica gave her head a light, quick shake to force her doubts away, she saw Christopher standing just inside the doorway of the drawing room.
As she approached him, she had her next shock when she saw that he was standing with Jerome Weitz.
Christopher looked up, and motioned her over. The look he gave her told her that his conversation with Weitz had been nothing but casual. "Jessica, let me introduce you to Jerome Weitz. Jerome stopped to speak to me a moment about some mutual business interests we have."
Weitz smiled, taking Jessica's hand. "But your wife and I have already had the pleasure. Of course, I am delighted to meet you again in a situation far more suited to your charms."
Christopher frowned. "How is this?"
"Mr. Weitz and I met rather precipitously, as I recall his putting it, at the Beards' ball," Jessica explained.
"He bumped into me in one of the hallways while I was carry-ing a tray of glasses, and I managed to spill everything on the carpet."
"An accident caused entirely by my carelessness," Weitz added.
"In any case, he was kind enough to assist me in clearing up the glasses, and introduced himself."
"Had I only known at the time, Dunlap, the identity of the fair Jessica," Weitz said seriously, "I might have saved you that later awkwardness."
"Yes, it was certainly an evening to remember." Christopher was looking at his wife, the frown still marring his brow."And," Weitz continued, "if I am to prevent a further awkwardness this evening, I had best be off. Good to speak to you both. Dunlap, I will have those papers I mentioned delivered to your offices during the week. Jessica," he said as he bowed. "Always a pleasure."
When he'd departed, Christopher spoke quickly though quietly to his wife. "What is this? You have met Weitz?
Why did you say nothing to me earlier when you saw him and Rhea arrive together?"
She was startled by the anger in her husband's tone. "It didn't seem important at the time. With all the tension. . . all I had on my mind . . . I'm sorry—"
"It would seem of importance to me. I even went on to describe who he was—and you said not a word."
"All I could think of at the time was that she had arrived. I didn't deliberately not tell you Mr. Weitz and I had met."He saw her dismay, and immediately his expression softened. "Oh, Jessica, what is the matter with me? As if you have not been through enough this evening without my chastising you—and over such a foolish thing. I am sorry."
"Your nerves are as short as mine."
"You will forgive me?"
She nodded, paused. "I just had a run-in with Rhea."
He was instantly alert. "Oh?"
"She met me as I was coming back to the drawing room. I'm sure the meeting was an accident. She seemed as surprised as I was."
"What had she to say? You look pale. . .or did my words cause that?"
"She was rude . . . made some comment about my being a country bumpkin and not used to New York society."
"That sounds very like her."
"I think I came out of it well enough, considering how surprised I was. I conveyed that I did not find New York society at all beyond my depth. She also said she was sur-prised to see us here—that it must have taken courage. Then she returned to making purely snide remarks. I excused myself and left."
"If I only had been with you when you encountered her! But of course then she would have said nothing."
"Better the air was cleared. After tonight, knowing I'm not afraid of her, perhaps she'll let things die down."
"That is to be hoped." He took her arm, smiled gently. "You know how very much I regret having put you through all of this—but I am so proud of you."
"Did Jerome Weitz make any comments to you about us or Rhea?"
"No, it was strictly business, although under the circumstances I must say I was surprised when I saw him approach me. However, he seemed intent on avoiding all personal issues. Perhaps he was trying to make up for Rhea's actions, although I do not know him well enough to say for sure."
"Well," she sighed, "the night is nearly over."
"Shall we go home to bed?"
"Yes, I'd like that."
With their social bow behind them, they returned to day-to-day life with lighter souls. A pleasant coziness was settling in on the house on Beaver Street. Christopher was off every weekday to his offices, and Jessica and Kit spent comfortable days organizing things at home or taking the carriage out to the shops where she selected some fabrics for the redecoration of Kit's bedroom, and other materials to be made up into new gowns for herself. Although Jessica had Mrs. Hart to tend to the cooking and housework, she insisted on helping out; she would have been bored otherwise.
Never had she played the lady of leisure, and her system refused to be geared to it now. She took pride in the house, and although there was no need for major changes, she enjoyed rearranging the furniture, adding a painting here and there—all of which gave the rooms a more welcoming look.
When he was about, Mawson was a great companion for the child, bringing him home bits of wood blocks from the shipyards, kneeling down with Kit on the carpet as they constructed forts and bridges. When Christopher arrived home from the office, he was only too delighted to join in the fun, surprising his son with a set of miniature soldiers to man the forts.
The scene of domestic tranquility seemed to aid in inclining Mawson's thoughts to his own personal affairs. He was often out of the house to visit Abbey, and at Jessica's prompting brought her to dinner one evening, an informal family affair. Kit sa
t perched in a high chair at the table, feeling very proud to be included with the adults.
As they finished the main course and coffee and dessert had just been served, Mawson glanced nonchalantly around the table.
"Got an announcement to make." "Oh?" Christopher, although suspecting what the announcement might be, played innocent. "Ayuh. Abbey and me, that is."
Abbey, sweet and fresh-faced, a dappling of freckles across her nose, had none of Mawson's Yankee reserve; she sat beaming.
"We'll be gettin' wed," Mawson finished. "Thought early this summer."
"Well, congratulations!" Jessica exclaimed. "That's wonderful. I'm so happy for you both."
"As am I, my friend," Christopher echoed. "I have been wondering when you would come to the point, and I am sure Abbey has been, too."
Abbey giggled. "You know Willis cannot be rushed, but we have talked about it for some time."
"What're you sayin', girl?" Mawson, too, was grinning. "Gettin' impatient, were you?" She blushed. "I would not want you any different." "That so? Myself, I was afraid there'd come some handsome, charmin'
fella put me to shame and snap you right out from under my eye."
"Now you know that would never be the case."
"Just teasin'." He winked, and turned again to Jessica and Christopher. "We've been thinkin' on June.
Saw a nice little house uptown a bit we've got our eye on, leave me close enough to get back and forth to work. Wonderin' if you'd stand with me as best man, Dunlap."
"I would be honored, as you should know."
"Thought I'd ask; never know. You'll be busy on your own 'bout then makin' plans for that place you want to build in Connecticut."
"But never too busy for an occasion like this. And I know a few others who will share my sentiments."
"Didn't think I'd do it, eh?" Mawson smiled broadly, took his bride-to-be's hand. "Got a girl like Abbey, man'd be a fool not to know a good thing."
At those words, Christopher's and Jessica's eyes spontaneously met, and his soft smile told her his feelings for her were no different.
By early March, Christopher had scouted out a piece of land in Eastport that he felt would be ideal. He'd found fifteen acres on a low rise of land facing out toward Eastport Harbor, secluded enough for privacy, yet close enough to the town and docks for convenience to his business. The following weekend he brought Jessica and Kit up to see the land. Prom the moment she stood on the crest of the hill and looked down the sloping bank to the blue waters of the Sound, there was no question in Jessica's mind that this was the perfect spot for their home. As Christopher turned this way and that, motioning with his hand, showing her where the house would stand to get the best view, where they'd put the stable, where to cut in the drive, she felt with certainty that they belonged here together. Forever. Everything that was dear to both their natures was manifest in this piece of ground; it seemed the land itself was welcoming them, calling out to them to settle there.