Ashes and Ecstasy

by Catherine Hart

  In honor of Kate’s seventy-second birthday, Kathleen organized an elaborate dinner party at Chimera. All of Kate’s many friends from the neighboring plantations were invited, and it was one of the grandest parties of the summer. The ballroom had been opened, the gardens and greenhouses raided for the most perfect flowers, and the verandas bedecked with lanterns and decorations. Kathleen went out of her way to insure the success of this occasion. In the face of her grandmother’s failing health, she was afraid Kate might not survive to see another year.

  There was no way to exclude Sally from the festivities. During the preparations, Kathleen feared that she was letting herself in for a lot of undue humiliation, and her anxieties did not prove groundless. While barely civil to his own wife, Reed showered attention on Sally. For her part, Sally clung to him closer than bark to a tree, and Reed seemed to bask in the glow of Sally’s untempered adoration.

  “That is disgusting!” Susan snorted, watching Sally fawn on her brother. “And Reed is lapping it up like a cat at a bowl of cream!”

  Catching a glimpse of Kathleen’s proud, tense face, Ted agreed. “I feel so sorry for Kathleen! What the devil is wrong with Reed these days, Sue? You would think Kathleen had committed a crime, the way he treats her now, and they were such a perfect couple before his disappearance.”

  Susan shook her dark head. “Whatever the problem. Miss Simpson’s presence is not making matters any better. The longer she stays, the worse things get. Mother is at her wit’s end with both Reed and his little houseguest!”

  Kathleen was seething. The longer she watched Sally simper at Reed’s side, the angrier she became. That Reed was enjoying the twit’s attention was obvious to all. The fact that she was helpless to do anything about it made her rage inside, while she bravely smiled and chatted with her guests and ignored their sympathetic looks as best she could.

  Dinner was particularly trying, with Kathleen seated at one end of the immense table, and Reed at the other, Sally on his left, a blonde vision in pale blue ruffles and lace. All through the meal, Kathleen watched the girl monopolize Reed’s attention, laughing gaily and hanging on his every word. Kathleen would have given anything to see one of the servants pour hot gravy down Sally’s revealing bodice, as well as onto Reed’s lap.

  Later, Kathleen was dancing with a neighboring planter, when a collective gasp from her guests drew her attention toward the refreshment table. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Sally staring down in horror at her ruffled gown which was stained from bodice to hem with pink champagne punch.

  Kathleen's gaze traveled from Sally to Reed, who stood gaping in open-mouthed amazement like everyone else. Then, as Susan reached up delicately to pluck a strawberry out of Sally’s decolletage, his face darkened like thunderclouds.

  In the silent room, Susan’s voice rang clear as she crooned, “Oh, dear! How dreadfully clumsy of me! The ladle just slipped right out of my hand! And it was so full!”

  “Susan!” Reed roared.

  Beside him, Sally reacted with a squeal of rage. Seizing a cup of punch from the table, she flung it at Susan, who, ducked nimbly behind Reed’s broad back. The liquid hit Reed square in the face, then dripped to stain his snowy-white shirt in streaks of pink.

  “Susan!" Reed roared again, blinking and wiping at his face.

  “Don’t shout at me, brother dear!” Susan said sternly. “I'm not the one who just threw punch all over you!”

  “You started this fiasco,” he growled.

  “Honestly, Reed!” Susan stamped her daintily slippered foot in frustration. “You would think I had done it on purpose!”

  “Didn’t you?” He glared glacial daggers at her.

  “I tripped,” Susan declared innocently. “When I reached out to steady myself, I bumped into Miss Simpson, and I’m afraid the ladle just spilled punch all over her lovely dress!”

  Reed wiped at his shirt front with his handkerchief. “In that case, you owe Sally an apology.”

  “Oh, no!” Susan balked suddenly. “That woman was aiming for me when she tossed that cupful of punch! That makes us quite even!” For the first time anyone could recall, Susan not only stood up to her older brother; she walked away from him in defiance.

  Sally, thoroughly mortified, fled to her room in tears; and Reed stomped off to change clothes and wash.

  To her credit, Kathleen contained her glee and managed to restore order and calm to the party, though her emerald eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter. Kate declared it the finest birthday party she had ever had.

  By the time Reed returned downstairs, everyone was once again enjoying themselves—with the exception of Sally, who remained in her room for the rest of the evening. Seeing Kathleen once more surrounded by her admirers, and without Sally to devote himself to, Reed spent the remaining hours at his wife’s side.

  Because many of their guests had been invited to spend the night at Chimera, Kathleen suddenly found her husband once more sharing her bed. Unsure of how to react, Kathleen battled an unfamiliar shyness and a reluctance to undress before him made her fingers fumble at the buttons of her gown. She was about to call a servant to help her undo those fastenings she could not reach, when Reed stepped up behind her. “Don’t be so stubborn, Kat. If you need help, say so.” As her back was bared to him, he kissed her shoulder, running his fingertips along the exposed ridge of her spine, and feeling he shiver at his touch.

  “You are exquisite! Your skin is like warm, smooth satin,” he murmured. Pulling the pins from her hair, he let it tumble in wild profusion down her back and across her shoulders. “If Eve was half the beauty you are, it is no wonder Adam couldn’t resist her and was doomed!” He turned her to face him, his hand pushing her gown from her body to fall in a silken heap on the floor.

  “Do you feel doomed, too, Reed?” Kathleen whispered, drowning in the fierce blue gaze that held hers.

  “Yes, damn you, I do!” he admitted with reluctant intensity. “As much as I try to hold myself away from you, I am still drawn to you. You’ve woven your web of desire well, my own venomous temptress, and as much as I long to, I cannot break free of it!” As if to punish her for making him want her, his lips took hers in a crushing kiss that bruised as well as burned.

  As her knees gave way beneath her, Kathleen felt Reed’s arms slip behind her knees, and he carried her easily to the bed. Trembling with her own awakened desired, Kathleen watched as Reed removed his clothing, and finally, the rest of hers.

  He took her with hunger and passion and impatience, cursing both himself and her. Their coming together was wild and wanton. After a brief respite, he made love to her again, and yet again before dawn streaked the sky with gold. And each time, he felt himself more bound to this green-eyed vixen who had bewitched him. Each time, he lost a little more of himself to her, and his agitation and smouldering jealousy of Jean dissolved proportionately. When at last he drew her, exhausted, into his arms, he held her gently to him, stroking her hair tenderly as she slept.

  Chapter 22

  The last week of August all Savannah was shocked and appalled as they learned of the British attack on Washington. The English, under General Ross, had captured the city easily in a surprise attack, burning both the Capitol and the White House.

  Reed immediately made ready to go to the capital and set sail the first of September. Sally, who had begged to accompany him to see if her uncle was alright, sailed with him. While Kathleen was glad to be rid of her, something about Sally’s concern for her “uncle” did not ring true. She was almost certain Sally had business of another sort in Washington—perhaps British business. When she warned Reed to be careful and keep a sharp eye on Sally’s movements, Reed first laughed at her, and then became angry.

  “Haven’t you done enough to the poor girl, Kat,” he chided. “Now you try to convince me she is a British spy!”

  “ ‘Poor girl’ my foot!” she snapped. “It is not impossible!”

  “It is highly improbable, and the lengths to which yo
ur jealousy drives you amazes me!”

  “If you can not tell the difference between jealousy and concern, then I pity you, Reed,” she told him shortly. “You deserve whatever befalls you!” On that discordant note, they parted.

  Reed was gone for three weeks. Without Sally’s disruptive influence, peace reigned at Chimera, though the women worried over the welfare of their country and of Reed. During his absence, Kathleen launched into a whirlwind of activity. The house was given a thorough cleaning and put in order for fall a bit early. Crops were being harvested, and foodstuffs being preserved for winter. With the help of Mary and Isabel, Kathleen also saw to the cleaning and harvesting of Emerald Hill for her grandmother, whose health was failing at an alarming rate.

  Kathleen was now a full four months along in her term, and she felt the need to set things in order before she became too ungainly. Her morning sickness had passed, and she glowed with health. Her pregnancy was barely noticeable, partially due to some clever alterations in her gowns by her talented seamstress, who had already begun to sew a winter wardrobe to accommodate Kathleen’s burgeoning figure.

  When Reed returned, unfortunately so did Sally. He brought news of the British attack on Baltimore, the twelfth of September. This time, however, the enemy had been routed by a successful defense organized by Senator Smith. Reed had participated in the counter attack launched from Fort Henry, and the British had turned back in defeat, retreating down Chesapeake Bay to the blockade lines.

  Sally’s return emphasized her single-minded determination to have Reed for her own no matter what the cost. She delighted in taunting Kathleen about the time she had spent alone with Reed on the short jaunt to Washington. Sally’s lies cut Kathleen deeply, but she hid her anguish behind an unruffled calm.

  Privately, she told Isabel, “The woman is either incredibly dense or incredibly sure of herself! Either way, it is obvious that stiffer measures are called for, or Miss Sally Simpson will be an albatross forever about my neck. It is bad enough having to deal with this pregnancy, and Reed’s threats if the child resembles Jean. I simply must be rid of that witch before my baby is born! If not, I fear I may lose Reed for good.” Kathleen sighed, laying a protective hand over the slight mound of her stomach. Whatever other confusion she felt, she already loved this child, regardless who had fathered it. She hoped fervently it would prove to be Reed’s babe, but should it be Jean’s, she would still love and care for it. As it grew within her, she prayed for its health and safe birth. Her body shielded and nourished it, and Kathleen had a strong protective maternal instinct. Son or daughter, Reed’s or Jean’s, this child was hers. She would protect it from all harm; with her life if necessary. This babe would not feel unwanted or unloved, regardless of what was revealed upon its arrival into this chaotic household.

  One morning, barely past dawn, Kathleen was up and about, seeing to breakfast preparations. Some sixth sense had nagged her awake early, and she felt a need to go to Emerald Hill as soon as possible.

  “Miz Taylor! Miz Taylor!” Milly, one of the housemaids, came running into the kitchen, her eyes wide with alarm. “Come quick!”

  Kathleen followed the girl. “What is it, Milly?” she asked with apprehension.

  “A rider jest come from Em’rald Hill. Miz Kate is bad sick! She callin’ fo’ ya.”

  Kathleen stopped short, the color draining from her face. With effort, she collected her wits, forcing back the dizziness threatening to overcome her. “Tell him to ride back and tell Gram I am on my way," she instructed Milly. Turning on her heel, she dashed for the stable.

  Kathleen had Zeus saddled, and one foot in the stirrup when Reed caught her. “Kat!” he cried, pulling her away from the stallion. “Get away from that horse!”

  Frantic, Kathleen fought him, kicking and screaming. “Let me go! Let me go!” His hands were like bands of steel about her arms as she struggled against him in her need to rush to Kate.

  “Kat! Listen to me! The horses are being hitched to the buggy. I will drive you to Kate’s!” He drew her to his chest, and held her tightly, feeling her tremble violently against him. “Honey, I will take you to Emerald Hill myself, but I will not let you risk your life galloping across the fields on that stallion.”

  “Oh, Reed!” Kathleen gulped on a sob. “She is dying!”

  “I know, sweet. I know.” His arms crushed her to him protectively.

  Reed drove the horses as fast as he dared. The house was morbidly quiet when they arrived, the servants wide-eyed and tearful as they passed them on their way to Kate’s room.

  Kate lay propped up on several pillows, obviously struggling for every breath she drew. Her face was ashen, and her eyes dulled with pain. “Kathleen,” she wheezed, reaching out weakly for her granddaughter.

  “Oh, Gram!” Kathleen cried, gently taking her grandmother’s hand. Tears clouded her vision as she fell to her knees at the bedside. She was dimly aware of Reed coming up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders, silently lending her his strength.

  Weak as she was, Kate stroked Kathleen’s bright disheveled hair. “Ah, me pretty colleen,” Kate sighed. “Don’t fret so.” She stopped to catch her breath. “ ’Tis time fer me t’ go and join me darlin’ Sean, but I had t’ see ye one last time b’fore I went.” .

  Kathleen clutched Kate’s frail hand, weeping uncontrollably.

  “Don’t try to talk, Kate,” Reed said gently, gazing tenderly at the old lady he had come to love and admire so greatly over the years. “Don’t worry yourself over Kathleen. She will be fine. I will see to it.”

  The old green eyes twinkled momentarily. “I know ye will,” Kate gasped, “or I’ll haunt ye forever!”’

  “Don’t go, Gram,” Kathleen begged. “I need you.” Kate’s head wobbled weakly from side to side in denial. “No, lass. Ye’re fine and strong; a true O’Reilly. Don’t fash yerself. Ye’ll be fine, as Reed says. I’ve seen t’ thet.” These last words made little sense to Reed or Kathleen, as Kate gasped and gathered strength to speak once more. “ 'Tis glad I am we’ve had these last years t’gether. I love ye, lass. Remember me . . .”

  “Always, Gram,” Kathleen sobbed. “Always. I love you, too.”

  Her strength depleted, Kate spoke no more. Sinking back on her pillows, she fought for each tortured breath, while Kathleen’s heart broke at the sound of her grandmother’s struggles. Reed’s eyes misted at the sight of granddaughter and grandmother, so much alike, sharing this last moment together. He would have given his own life to ease their pain.

  It was perhaps a quarter of an hour later when Reed realized he no longer heard Kate’s tormented wheezing over Kathleen’s quiet sobs. Gently, he pried Kathleen’s fingers loose from her grandmother’s. “It is over, Kathleen. She is gone.”

  “No! No! I won’t let her!” Kathleen wailed. She tried and failed to reclaim Kate’s hand, as Reed drew her to her feet.

  “Oh, God, Reed! What will I do without her?” She sought the shelter of his embrace, clinging desperately to his warm, solid form, burying her head against his broad chest.

  For precious moments, he held her while she wept, sharing her deep grief. At length, he picked her up and carried her to the parlor, laying her on the divan. After issuing orders to the servants, he sent a messenger to Chimera, asking his mother and Isabel to come and stay with Kathleen. He knew they would see to the necessary arrangements, and comfort Kathleen in her loss. He felt so damned useless, so helpless.

  Kathleen went through the next two days in a daze. Kate was laid out in the parlor, and the door draped in black crepe, as friends and neighbors paid condolence calls. Kathleen refused to leave Emerald Hill until after the funeral, muttering something about not leaving Kate alone. She stayed in an upstairs bedroom, though she slept very little. Often, Reed awoke to find her side of the bed empty, and to hear her wandering through the house. After a while, he would go to her, leading her weary body back to bed, and holding her while she wept. He worried what the strain might do to her and the
child she carried.

  Mary returned to Chimera and the children, and Isabel stayed at Emerald Hill with Reed and Kathleen, doing what she needed to maintain order. The day of the funeral was inappropriately bright and sunny. Kate was laid to rest next to Sean O’Reilly, the two graves lying companionably side by side beneath the huge old oak a short distance from the house. All around them, the meadows of Emerald Hill spread out in verdant splendor, as green as the land from which they had come.

  Throughout the funeral and the days preceding it, Reed stayed close to Kathleen's side. The depth of her grief dismayed him. He had never seen her like this before, and it made him wonder if she had mourned him with such intensity when he had been believed dead.

  From somewhere deep within Kathleen managed to draw enough strength to present a fairly calm front to visitors, but her eyes were rarely dry, her face swollen and red from crying. At odd times, she would disappear, and Reed would find her hiding away, sobbing her heart out alone. She let her grief flow freely, wailing out her pain like a wounded animal. It tore at Reed’s heart to see her this way, to hear her cries in the night, to see her shoulders shake with the force of her wrenching sobs.

  Shaking his head sadly, he confided to his mother, “She eats so little; and she is taking Kate’s death so hard! I am afraid she will make herself ill.”

  Mary, suffering her own sorrow over her dear departed friend, and still miffed at her son’s irrational behavior, was impatient with him. “Your worry over your wife is touching, Reed, after the way you have treated her these past months! However, Kathleen’s grief now is mild compared to her reaction when you were assumed dead. I have never seen any human mourn more deeply than she did then.” Mary sighed deeply. “You are right to worry, son. This cannot be good for her in her delicate condition, but we must have faith that all will be well. Perhaps it is best for her to vent her grief, instead of leaving it to fester inside. Help her to release all her sorrow now, that she may heal more quickly.”