I said nothing.
“But you may need a bit more time, my dear. There is no rush. You can marry when you are ready, and a suitable suitor has been found.”
“But I am ready,” I said, trying not to sound impatient. “And so I wondered if you had anyone else in mind.”
“Well, no. I cannot say I had anyone in particular in mind, nor has any man approached me, save for young Mr. Van Brunt, of course. But if you are certain you are ready, I can begin to make inquiries over the coming months. I am sure we shall have no shortage of candidates, what with your fine dowry.”
Yet your perception that Ichabod was interested in my dowry was what prompted you to refuse him, I thought with a spark of anger. Honestly, what sense did any of these rules make? It was to be expected when they were created by men, I supposed. “I see,” I said. “No one else has approached you—no one at all?”
“No, though as I said, I will be happy to make inquiries, if you are certain that this is what you want. Yes,” he said, warming to the idea, “yes, we may be able to see you married by next year at this time.”
My heart sank. By this time next year? No, no, that would never do. “All right, then,” I managed, rising from my seat. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Of course, my dear. Whatever will make you happy.”
It would have made me most happy if you had allowed me to marry Ichabod, I raged inwardly, even as I gave him a dutiful peck on the cheek.
Woodenly, I left his study and walked up to my room. I needed a husband, within the month, if there was to be any hope of my child being accepted as legitimate. My father went on about what a sought-after prize I was, that he knew of many potential and acceptable suitors. But apparently not. Apparently all along there had only been Brom and Ichabod.
Of course, if I did truly need a husband, any husband, in a matter of weeks …
No. That was not an option. Even for my child, I could never consider it.
Gingerly, I pressed my hands against my still-flat belly. But truly, I wondered, is there anything I can afford not to consider?
* * *
The next day, I went to visit Charlotte, to tell her of my conversation with my father. She listened in silence, then shook her head when I finished. “It does seem surprising, based on things your father has said. But…” She bit her lip.
“What?” I asked.
“It … in a way, it does not surprise me,” she said. “For there is talk…” She looked as though she wished she had not brought this up, whatever it was.
“Talk about what?” I demanded.
She sighed and gave in. “There is talk in the village—”
“Not more silly village gossip,” I interrupted. “There is nothing they do not talk of in this village, it seems. It is a wonder the crops get planted and the market can run, for it seems no one in Sleepy Hollow does anything but talk.”
“If you do not wish to hear such talk, I will not tell you,” she said. “Indeed, it may be that you would rather not know.”
That stopped me. “Very well, then, tell me.”
“I mean it, Katrina. I do not say that to entice you further.”
Now I had to know, in that contrary way that humans have. “Tell me, Charlotte, please.”
“Very well. If you are sure.” She paused before. “There is talk that Brom may have had something to do with Ichabod’s disappearance. They say he learned of Ichabod’s proposal and did something to scare him away, to make sure he left you and Sleepy Hollow behind and never came back. To ensure Brom had no rivals for your hand.”
Somehow, I had never considered this. “And you believe this, do you?”
She shrugged. “Not particularly, no. Ichabod was—is—not a man so easily cowed, not where you are concerned. And he knew you would not marry Brom no matter what, so I do not see how Brom could have convinced him.”
But it would not have surprised me in the least if Brom had tried. “And so?” I said. “Is that all? News I could have eventually put together for myself?”
“Think about what it means, Katrina,” Charlotte said. “It does not matter whether we believe it, only that others do. And they are already saying it: no man will dare court Katrina Van Tassel now, for fear of crossing Brom Bones.”
“But this is nonsense,” I said, trying to push back a wave of despair and frustration. “Brom does not have such power. He cannot be that intimidating, surely?”
“It seems he is,” she said. “Anyway, I am only telling you what people are saying. And, unfortunately, many of them are saying it.”
* * *
I rode home in a daze. There was too much information to be absorbed, too many choices to make, yet not enough of them.
What was I going to do?
There was always Charlotte’s option. I could rid myself of the child, and wait as my father made his inquiries, wait until he found a suitor I liked and maybe could grow to love, just as I would have done if I had never met Ichabod.
Or I could not marry and still have the child, try to carry on as best I could in the face of the scandal that would erupt. I could wait as long as I wanted—forever, if need be—for Ichabod to return.
Yet I knew that this was not a choice, not really. If I were to be found with child and unmarried, my parents would never let me keep it. The best I could hope for would be to be sent away to some secluded place to give birth, then the child sent to another family or, worse, to an orphanage.
Or they might send me away in my shame, and cut me off completely. I did not truly think they would—my parents loved me too much for that—but it was a possibility, I supposed. No one would fault them for it. And how would I support a child on my own when I had no way of supporting or even of caring for myself? I could cook, and mend, and run a house, of course, but I had never lived without servants to assist me with even the most basic of tasks.
One thing was certain: I would not be able to raise this child in any kind of comfort without a husband. And that left me with only one option.
I stabled Starlight when I returned home, but instead of going into the house I went out into the woods. I walked the familiar path alone, to Ichabod’s and my favorite spot on the banks of the stream. Save for my brief visit after All Hallows’ Eve to see if Ichabod awaited me, I had not been there in weeks; not since the day Brom had discovered us and challenged Ichabod to the duel. It had become spoiled, tainted, for me after that. Yet I could not bear to be anywhere else just then.
When I arrived, the clearing was so undisturbed that it seemed as if no one had set foot there since Ichabod and I had last been here—and likely no one had.
I fell to my knees on the damp ground and wept loudly in this place where no one could hear me.
* * *
That night I dreamed again, of the Horseman. It was the same as before: he stood in the fabled clearing far off in the forest, and I could glimpse Ichabod standing behind him. I started to run toward him, heedless of the Horseman’s presence, words of love and relief on my lips: You are back! I have found you! You are here!
Yet unlike before, the Horseman did not move to block my view of Ichabod. This time, the specter allowed me to run right past him toward my lover—even as my dream-self shivered at coming so close to the Hessian. Yet then Ichabod was gone, had simply disappeared. He had not turned and run, nor faded into the shadows; he was simply there one moment and gone the next. I tore through the forest, shoving branches out of my way, calling his name all the while. Yet I never saw another trace of him.
Far off now, I heard the loud whinny of a horse.
Then I awoke.
I lay still, unable to move, letting the tears course down my face. For I was now certain I would never see Ichabod again.
36
Star-Crossed Lovers
I stayed in bed all the next day, pleading a headache. I slept some, but mostly I tossed and turned, debating my options over and over again. Nancy brought me my meals, and I forced myself to eat, for the child�
��s sake more than my own. It was certainly the least taxing thing I was prepared to do for my child’s sake.
Time was running out.
The following day I rose as normal, and just after lunch slipped out into the gray day.
I made my way back to my and Ichabod’s spot by the stream. I walked slowly, trying to take in every step. This might well be the last time I would venture there.
Once I got to the clearing I sat down, my skirts pooling around me, heedless of dirtying my dress. I closed my eyes, letting the sounds of the forest drift around me—quieter now that winter was approaching—and remembered.
I allowed myself to remember every word, every kiss, every touch. To remember every time that we had made love, in this very spot, the sensation of him inside me, of the pain that first time and the pleasure that had followed. To remember how it felt to be so wholly connected and wrapped together so that we became one person, two halves of a whole.
I remembered the promises, the plans for the future, the hopes and dreams we’d shared. I remembered the love and tenderness in his eyes when he looked at me, spoke to me, remembered the times we’d laughed together.
It was all gone now. All in the past. And I had to say goodbye to it.
I bid farewell to every memory, hoping they would not return to torment me, even as I longed to clutch them to me forever. And I wept.
Ichabod would forgive me. He would understand what I had to do, wherever he was, and he would forgive me. Even if I could not forgive him for leaving me behind, for leaving me to make this choice, however his disappearance had come about.
Goodbye, my love.
As the sunlight filtering through the branches began to weaken, and the sky faded into twilight, then darkness, I began to sing, softly at first, then louder. My voice was rough and ravaged by tears, but I did not care. I sang the song of the lotus and the willow, the star-crossed lovers who were kept apart from each other. I sang it and I cried.
Once full darkness had fallen and I had finished the song, I rose to my feet and left the clearing, forbidding myself to look back. I walked slowly back toward my house, and I did not fear the Horseman coming upon me, not that night.
Let him find me, I thought dully. Let him find me and kill me and save me from what I am about to do.
* * *
As though he knew what I planned, Brom appeared at the farmhouse again the next day.
I was ready, as ready as I could ever be. When my mother came to tell me that he was here, I brought my cloak with me and met him in the receiving room.
He bowed when I came in. “Katrina,” he said. “I hope that you continue to be in good health.”
“Might we walk?” I asked.
He took in the cloak I was already wearing over one of my warm dresses and nodded. This time I took the arm he offered as we made our way to the river once again.
“I am glad you have come today,” I said, once we were several paces from the house.
“Oh?” he asked. “Given my usual reception, I am surprised to hear that.”
“Indeed.” I stopped walking and turned to face him, ready to say what I needed and set all the wheels in motion and have done with it. “I have decided I will marry you.”
Surprise, and a look of triumph that he could not entirely hide, crossed Brom’s face. “Oh?” he said again. “And what has led to this abrupt and rather astonishing change of heart?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“Is it not?” he asked, cocking his head at me, a grin on his face. “Surely I have the right to ask the woman who has agreed to marry me why she wishes to do so?”
I shrugged half-heartedly. “I must marry someone,” I said. “Better it be you than some stranger.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “You will forgive my doubts, Katrina. I seem to remember several vows you made along the lines of your preference for death over marrying me.”
Death was indeed something I had considered, however briefly. “And yet you persisted in your suit,” I said. “It seems you do not give your charms enough credit.” My God, how was I saying such things without vomiting?
Dunce that he was, he looked heartened by this. “Well, that is true.”
“I do have two conditions, however.”
“Ah,” he said. “I was correct. There are strings attached.”
“There are,” I said. “But just this: the first is I wish us to be wed as soon as possible.”
Brom looked torn between delight in his good fortune and wariness. Fortunately for me, his delight won out. “That can be arranged easily enough, I should think,” he said. He grinned again, though this time it was more of a leer. “Eager for the marriage bed, are you, Katrina? Eager to see what it’s like to have a real man in your bed?”
My face burned with both embarrassment and rage. For he was exactly right. As much as I might dread it, we must be wedded and bedded as soon as possible, so that he might believe the child I carried was his. But I would endure anything if it would mean my child would be safe. “I have never had any man whatsoever in my bed,” I said. After all, Ichabod and I had never made love in my bed, specifically. I would need to convince Brom I was still a virgin. “So my … instruction in that area will fall wholly to you.” God help me, but I did gag slightly, at those words, and his look of joy as I spoke them. Fortunately, he did not seem to notice.
“I am wholly in favor of this first condition,” he said. “And what is the second?”
“The second is that I shall ask you a question, and you must answer me truthfully.”
“Easy enough.”
I took a deep breath before speaking again. It was a dangerous question, but if I was going to marry him, I needed to know. “The rumors in the village,” I said. “I must know if they are true.”
“And which rumors might these be? Sleepy Hollow is rife with them, as you do not need me to tell you.”
“The rumors that say you somehow scared Ichabod off for asking for my hand in marriage,” I said. “Did you? Did you say or do something to frighten him away, to make him leave, so you might not have a rival for my affections?”
He studied me.
“I will know,” I said, “if you lie to me.”
“I believe you would,” he said. “But no, I did not. I did not attempt to frighten him off. I did not do or say anything to intimidate him or scare him away from Sleepy Hollow.”
I searched his pale blue eyes, but saw only sincerity in them. He was telling the truth, it seemed. And though I did not know if this was the answer I had hoped to hear, I believed him.
“Very well, then,” I said, turning back toward the house. “My father is in his study. You had best speak to him and secure his permission for our marriage. Let him know we wish to wed as soon as possible.”
“It will be my pleasure,” Brom said. “I’ve no doubt your father will be very pleased as well.”
No doubt he would be.
“Katrina,” he said with uncertainty. “This is truly what you want?”
In that moment, at the genuine concern in his tone, I softened toward him just a bit. Maybe being married to him would not be quite the nightmare I had feared.
Want, I had learned, was a very slippery word. “Yes,” I said. “It is. There are many things I wish to leave in the past.”
I could see from his expression that, with these words, I had erased the last of his doubts.
We walked the rest of the way to the house in silence, and Brom went to speak with my father.
37
Wedding Plans
My parents insisted Brom stay for dinner that night, and instructed Cook to prepare a celebratory feast. Many toasts were drunk, and plans for the wedding commenced immediately. The first week in December was deemed the soonest that the ceremony could take place. Meanwhile I practiced wearing the happy mask I would need to wear for the rest of my life.
When I went to bed that night, I was surprised to find myself filled more with relief than dr
ead. It was done; we were betrothed and the wedding date was set. There was no turning back now.
Yet when I awoke the next morning, I was faced with a task that I did indeed dread. I needed to go to the village at once to tell Charlotte the news myself, before she could hear it from the village gossips—or, worse, from Brom himself.
Would Charlotte forgive me for marrying her greatest enemy, once mine as well?
I had lost so much; I could not lose Charlotte, too.
I knocked at the door to her cottage, and she answered almost immediately. “Katrina!” she said brightly. “Come in; Giles Carpenter is about to drop by, and…” She trailed off as she caught sight of the grave expression on my face. “What is it? Has … is there news of Ichabod?”
“No,” I said, feeling a wrenching in my heart at his name. “But I do have something to tell you, and I would rather do it before Giles gets here, if I can.”
“Come in, then; sit down.” She motioned me inside, and we took our usual seats in the front room. “Whatever is the matter?”
I studied the worn carpet on the floor. Now that I was here, I did not know how to begin. “I … I have made a difficult decision,” I said at last. “I have turned it over and over again in my mind, and I can see no other way.”
“What is it? Katrina, you are frightening me.”
I met her eyes. “I just … I hope you will forgive me.”
“Katrina, what have you done?”
“I…” I swallowed. “I have agreed to marry Brom Van Brunt.”
Silence.
Finally, she spoke. “If this is a jest, it is a very poor one.”
“It is no jest. I … I wish it was.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“As the grave. Oh, Charlotte—” I rose and moved to take her hand, but she snatched it away. I flinched. “Surely you must see that I do not have another choice.”
The Spellbook of Katrina Van Tassel Page 24