Love Once Again

by Joann Simon

  "Assuredly."

  It was not until a few minutes later, as Jessica looked down the still-long line of arriving guests, that her breath caught in her throat. She nearly gasped. Rhea! There was no mistaking that raven-tressed head. What was that woman doing here!

  She cast one quick glance toward her husband. He, too, had seen her: the smile had been wiped from his lips. He turned to Jessica. The surprise and confusion in his expression were enough to tell her that he'd had no foreknowledge of Rhea's appearance. With guests waiting to be greeted, it was impossible for husband and wife to talk, and it was not until Rhea passed farther along the reception line to them that they understood how she had come to be at their party. She was in the escort of one of Christopher's more important contacts, William Jeffries, who was new to the New York scene and unaware of Christopher and Rhea's past liaison.

  It took all of Jessica's powers as a polite hostess not to order the woman then and there to leave her house. As it was, her greeting bordered on rudeness, but Rhea seemed not the least bit perturbed. Christopher only cast Rhea a lethal glare, but he, too, was unable to say what was on his mind in front of the other guests, and in a moment Rhea and her companion were moving off into the drawing room.

  As they departed, Christopher quickly leaned over to speak in his wife's ear. "I am so sorry, Jessica. I had no idea."

  "I know."

  "Shall I ask her to leave? It might be awkward since she is in Jeffries's company."

  "No. I know you value Jeffries's business. Let's see what happens." She was forced then to turn her attention to their next guests. "Good evening Vivian, Charles . , ."

  The next surprise in the otherwise smoothly flowing festivities came with the arrival of Jerome Weitz, long after Christopher and Jessica had gone to join their guests in the ballroom. Husband and wife had discussed the invitation sent to him. After his last encounter with the man and knowing Weitz's affection and admiration for his wife, Christopher was not the least disposed to include him, yet he knew Weitz was a business tie he could not readily afford to sever, and Jessica assured him repeatedly that she and Weitz were no more than friends; they owed the man some consideration for the assistance he'd offered her at the inn. But since Jerome had made no acknowledgment of the invitation, Jessica had assumed he would not attend.

  Now as she saw him enter the crowded room, she felt uneasy about what words might pass between him and Christopher tonight. But Jerome did not come in their direction; instead he moved farther away to speak with a group of New York guests.

  Christopher said nothing to her about Jerome's arrival until they were dancing, and then there was no anger in his tone. "So, the evening should prove interesting. You will not object if I do not go over and greet Weitz with open arms."

  She smiled. "No. I will be too busy keeping an eye on a certain other party."

  "There is no need." He tightened his arms about her, dropped his cheek to the softness of her hair. "I will never stray again."

  "It is she I don't trust."

  But all went smoothly, despite some guests' obvious concern that it might not. Their hostess associated any shocked expressions she saw among them with Mrs. Taylor's appearance at the party; Robert Bayard and the Beards seemed particularly disconcerted, Jessica noted as she paused to speak with them during the evening. Of course, everyone was too polite to comment, but she had no trouble reading the thoughts going through their minds. She was almost glad that Lucas was out of town and had therefore declined his invitation to the party. There was the animosity Lucas still felt toward Christopher; and then, too, he would not have stood silent when he saw Christopher's former mistress appear. It was Christopher's own behavior that went the furthest toward waylaying harmful gossip as he stayed close to his wife's side, his arm often about her waist, his whole manner that of a man very much enamored of his spouse and having no desire to look elsewhere. And Rhea—Jessica watched her closely—made no move toward Christopher. She remained at the side of Jeffries displaying her best social behavior.

  Jerome Weitz, too, kept his distance. It was only as Christopher stepped from the room for a moment that he spoke briefly to Jessica.

  "It is very good to see you again."

  "And you, Jerome."

  "Though I admit to being a trifle surprised when I received your invitation. I debated about coming."

  He smiled. "Curiosity got the better of me. I hope my being here has not made you uncomfortable."

  "Not at all. You're most welcome."

  "I received your note after you returned to Dunlap. Thank you. All is going well for you?" he asked, sounding as though he found it difficult to believe that possible.

  "Very well, Jerome. I think we have finally sorted things out. I am happy."

  "I. . .1 could not help but note a certain lady's presence here. That was not planned, I take it?"

  "Far from it. Jeffries brought her. He didn't know."

  "Hmmph." He fingered his lips. "Some people will go to any ends. Take a care, Jessica."

  "I shall. I believe I know how 'the lady' operates, having had some experience with her."

  "Well, there is no more I dare say on that subject. What I don't mind repeating is that I am very happy to see you again. . . and to see you looking so well. And remember, if you should ever need me . . . as a friend

  . . . ""Thank you, Jerome. That will always be understood between us."

  The guests, extravagant in their praise of the entertainments, the refreshments, the lovely home the Dunlaps had designed and built themselves, did not begin to make their departures until well after one in the morning. Their closest friends and the most prominent of Christopher's business associates and their wives would be staying in the guest rooms in the house. Others who had traveled in from out of town had taken rooms in Eastport and would return on the following afternoon for the rest of the entertainments and the dinner following.

  By two-thirty in the morning, as the last of the house-guests departed down the staircase, Jessica was dead on her feet, but happily so. She had planned to wait for Christopher, to talk over with him the success of their first large party, but he'd been dragged off to his study by Bayard and several other gentlemen for a business chat, and she had no idea when the men would call it a night. Too tired to wait any longer, she went up to their room, undressed quickly, and crawled into bed, sighing contentedly at the soft comfort for her weary muscles. Within seconds she was asleep.

  The following afternoon, the almost expected storm began to brew.

  Jessica woke from a brief nap. The rest of their guests would begin arriving again soon to enjoy wine and light refreshments out on the lawns while many of the men, and some of the more energetic among the women, competed in an archery contest, lawn tennis, or other, less demanding, activities. Later, dinner for fifty would be served, with cards and the chamber music following. She'd not wanted to leave her houseguests to their own devices, but Christopher had insisted she go up and rest for a while in preparation for the evening ahead, and he was right—she was tired. He'd slept later than she that morning and had more strength in reserve. She slipped from her robe and went to the washstand to freshen up.

  It was then she saw the envelope laying on the polished floor, just inside the door, as though it had been slid beneath; perhaps something Christopher or one of the maids had dropped. But as she knelt to retrieve it, she saw her name written on the front. She took it to the bed, sat down, and broke the seal.

  The note inside was unsigned, but written in an obviously feminine hand.

  Perhaps I go beyond myself in addressing this message to you, but I felt you should be aware. I can understand the trials you have faced being wed to such a handsome and charming man and have thought very highly of you for having held your head up in society in the face of his numerous past affairs. It is an example which gives the rest of us courage.

  And for you to persevere still, when even last evening, in your own home, your husband dallied into the wee ho
urs with one of your guests, takes strength indeed. It is a terrible shame some women cannot be gotten out of a man's system, but it is a situation most of us have faced at one time or another, although some of us do not have the spirit to stand up beneath it as well as you have done and continue to do. This note is meant to let you know that you are not alone and that you are much admired for your determination to keep your house and home together.

  Jessica read the note again and yet again, scarcely believing her eyes. Who would write something like this to her?

  Was it some kind of joke, albeit in incredibly poor taste? She rose, ready to crush the note into a ball and consign it to the fire, when her eyes again caught on the line: "And for you to persevere still, when even last evening, in your own home, your husband dallied into the wee hours with one of your guests ..." No, it couldn't be possible! Someone was trying to plant

  seeds of doubt in her mind. But who would be so cruel? She could think of only one person, but Rhea had not spent the night in the house—Jessica was sure of that. Jeffries had not been one of the overnight guests, although he'd been invited to today's festivities. Could Rhea have returned to the house? Had Christopher slipped out? It seemed prepos-terous. Jessica was letting her imagination run away with itself for pondering even the possibility.

  But then, she didn't remember when Christopher had come to bed; she'd been sound asleep and hadn't wakened.

  She only knew that he'd been beside her this morning, quietly snoring. She'd let him sleep on, presuming that once the men had got to talking, they'd kept him up quite late. But perhaps it hadn't been the men who had kept him up. Was it possible he had spent a good part of the night elsewhere? . . . She could find out by asking Bayard how late the men had remained in the study. . . . But since she had no idea what time her husband had finally slid into bed beside her, would that necessarily tell her anything? No, no! She refused to contemplate it. Just the thought of Christopher and Rhea together brought a fury that left her hot and cold in the same instant!

  Deep in thought, she strode to the windows. She was being ridiculous. She had nothing to worry about; the note was either some sick practical joke or another of Rhea's ploys. She would talk to Christopher about it at her first opportunity. She refolded the note, lifted her head and looked out the window.

  There, on a path to the side of the front lawn, she saw her husband; and beside him, elegant in a flowered afternoon dress and cape, Rhea Taylor! The two were involved in an animated discussion, seemed oblivious of anything but each other. In a moment they disappeared, hidden by shrubbery, around a corner in the path. It was all Jessica's confused mind needed to see. He'd promised never to talk to that woman, never to see her alone! So what was he doing taking a solitary walk with her, just when he was sure his wife was safely napping upstairs!

  She wanted to scream, but forced herself to be calm. Suddenly the note didn't seem so ridiculous anymore. Still, she must remember that it was possible she was misconstruing the situation. Rhea might have confronted him and left him no alternative but to talk to her. Despite the fury that raged within her, she had to keep her faith in Christopher. He had promised . . . promised!

  At dinner she was tense, alternating between silence and nervous chatter. Jerome Weitz, seated beside her, immediately sensed something was wrong and tried to draw her out or, that failing, to divert her thoughts from whatever was troubling her. That he didn't succeed on either count worried him further, but there was little he could do except to continue with milder conversation. To bluntly ask her what was on her mind as they sat with the other dinner guests would be unheard-of behavior.

  Christopher, at the opposite end of the table, was very much aware of his wife's intense conversation with Weitz, and he looked their way as often as he felt he could without drawing unwanted attention.

  Jessica, consciously avoiding looking at her husband, was unaware of his discomfiture. She feared that if she did glance over to him, she would discover his eyes resting on Rhea, who sat halfway down the length of the table, beside William Jeffries. She did not want her deepest dread confirmed.

  After a sumptuous dinner, which Jessica barely tasted, she rose to lead their female guests into the drawing room, while the men remained for a time in the dining room over their port. Amelia Beard came to sit beside Jessica and immediately engaged her in conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, Jessica noticed Rhea going to the far corner of the room to examine the curio cabinet there. The woman seemed to have few female friends among the guests; but that was not entirely surprising.

  Amelia didn't miss Jessica's quick glance. "Perhaps it is none of my business, Jessica, but why do you not just throw her out of your house?"

  "She came with an important business associate of Christopher's. It would be extremely awkward."

  "And the situation is not now awkward? I am not doubting your husband, but that woman has put you through enough."

  "Yes, I know, I know, Amelia." And perhaps Rhea isn't finished yet, Jessica added silently; then, excusing herself, rose to see to her other guests.

  As the men entered the room, Jessica's tension redoubled. She had one eye on Rhea, the other on her husband; but Christopher came immediately to her side. He wasn't smiling when he spoke. "Is everything all right?"

  She was startled by his question. "Yes. Yes—why shouldn't it be?"

  "I was only wondering. You seemed distracted at dinner . . . seemed to have a great deal to say to Weitz."

  "Jerome? Well, yes, I suppose, but then he was seated next to me. Just chitchat."

  "You are sure?"

  "Why, yes; of course."

  He went off to instruct the servants to set up card tables, but that terse conversation had reassured her that it was not Rhea who was uppermost in his thoughts. She began to relax a bit, circulating to make small talk with the guests who had chosen not to play cards, but to mingle with one another to the accompaniment of the string quartet playing in the background. As Jessica paused to exchange news with Abbey Mawson, she saw Christopher, after some prompting, take a seat at one of the tables to be dealt in for a few hands. She knew from experience that he was an excellent card player. She was not disappointed when, a few minutes later, she heard a mumbled oath from one of Christopher's opponents. "Should have known you were holding that trump aside, Dunlap."

  Jessica smiled as Christopher and his partner took the first hand, the cards were shuffled and redealt, and the play continued. She heard Christopher laugh at some comment; glanced over and saw the frowns of concentration on the other players' brows. It wasn't until the hand was nearly played that she looked over again to the table to see the woman who had just come to stand behind Christopher's chair. Dear Rhea.

  Jessica reminded herself that her husband hadn't beckoned the woman over—nor did he acknowledge her now.

  Still, Rhea was obviously making a move, and Jessica did not like it one bit. She would have acted herself, gone over to make her presence very definitely felt at her husband's side; but Clara came from the kitchens to whisper in Jessica's ear that there was some small problem—the cook was having an argument with one of the serving girls. Jessica had no choice but to tend to it.

  When she returned to the drawing room, Christopher had left the card table and was now in conversation with some men at the other side of the room. Near by was Rhea. It had become apparent that her interest in William Jeffries had been only of sufficient duration to get him to bring her to the party, for she'd paid little attention to him since; the woman's eyes were only for Christopher.

  Jessica resolutely turned her attention toward the others at the party. Her eyes met those of Jerome Weitz, who was walking toward her. Remembering her husband's earlier comments, she subtly shook her head. Too much was on her mind already this evening; she did not need further complications. Jerome understood her, and changed his course.

  Not long afterward, Jessica saw Christopher leave the room. Within seconds, Rhea followed.

  That was it! J
essica was not going to stand by and watch any longer. Her anger boiling over at the woman's audacity, Jessica went in pursuit. She saw neither of them in the front hall as she left the drawing room. She quickly stepped through the other downstairs rooms; the smoking room, dining room, breakfast room, Christopher's study, the small parlor, her anxiety growing with each minute. Then, her mouth dry in fear of what she might discover in one of the bedrooms, she went upstairs. Nothing.

  She breathed a sigh of relief, but it was only very temporary. She had not found them, and she had to know where they'd gone. She was hurrying down the hallway from the back stairs en route to the drawing room, hoping they had returned there, when she saw Rhea Taylor entering the other end of the hall from a side door that led into the garden. Rhea saw Jessica; her eyes narrowed. She smiled slowly, smugly.

  Jessica stopped in the center of the hall, blocking the woman's passage.

  "Were you looking for someone?" Rhea said sweetly, the smile still on her lips.

  "As a matter of fact I was, and I have found her."

  "Indeed? You were looking for me?" Rhea arched her perfect brows. "Is that not interesting. I wonder why."

  "I think you know why." Jessica's eyes flashed in icily controlled anger. "There is no point in mincing words. I am aware of your little games, Mrs. Taylor. I want you out of this house—now, this instant! There is no need to say good night to the other guests, I will advise Mr. Jeffries that you are departing. Go collect your wrap and get out!"

  "Who do you think you are to speak to me in this fashion?"

  "I am the mistress of this house, and I no longer want you darkening my doorstep. You've brought my husband and me enough grief. The exit is in that direction, Mrs. Taylor, and if you think you might have the slightest difficulty finding your way to it, I will be delighted to have the butler assist you!"

  "Will you now? You are being a trifle hasty, don't you think?"