I looked up. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
He showed me a scroll of paper. “Your divorce, Rhawnie. Apparently Seth has filed himself. All you have to do is—"
“What’s that? Divorce! Where? Show me!”
He unfurled the rolled document and spread it out on a table. I peered at it.
“This doesn’t mean anything to me!” I said, frustrated. It’s all in French!”
“Of course it is. We’re in France, remember?”
“But what does it mean?” I asked. “Tell me, Steven!”
“It means that our own petition has gotten bogged down or lost in a shuffle of papers on some bureaucrat’s desk, and Seth has beat us to it. He filed for divorce on his own, and he must have a very good lawyer, because—”
“You mean—you mean he wants to divorce me!” I said angrily. “I don’t believe it! Where, where does it say that!”
Steven pointed out the appropriate passage, it was a meaningless jumble of letters to me.
“But he has no right to do this!” I said, stamping my foot. “I’m the one who’s divorcing him, remember? Of all the arrogant, selfish things to do.”
“All you have to do is sign,” Steven said. “Down here, under his signature.”
“Sign!” I squawked. “I will sign nothing, do you hear me! He thinks he can get rid of me so easily—! Well, he’s wrong! I’m going to take this stupid paper to Paris,” I rolled it up and brandished it under Steven’s nose like a club, “and I’m going to tell him what he can do with his divorce! He had no right to do this! He’s such a pig-headed moron that he couldn’t even stick around long enough for me to be well, he had to jump on his horse and ride away because he had some idiotic idea that—”
“That you loved me, not him,” Steven said softly.
I stopped my tirade immediately and my hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, Steven. Oh, Steven!” I threw my arms around his neck and he held me. “What am I saying? I don’t want to hurt you, Steven, but you know how it is with us, with Seth and me. We’re Gypsies, both of us. We’re not happy unless we’re travelling and fighting and cheating someone. Can you see that? We belong together, we always have. Since we first met in Russia and the old Gypsy Ursula predicted that my life would be his life. He is my fate, my destiny! And I am his. And I’ve been so cruel to you, to tell you that I wanted to marry you and now to—”
“That’s all right,” he said with an odd little laugh. “I didn’t believe you anyway. None of us did. So,” he held me away from him, “you want to go to Paris? Get your hat and coat. If we start now we can be there by early evening.” He smiled tenderly. I'll miss you, Rhawnie. But I'm not sorry I met you and fell in love with you. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“Oh, Steven!” I threw my arms around his neck again and hugged him tightly. Then I ran upstairs to put on a travelling suit that Elise’s Parisian dressmaker had made for me and to throw the few things I owned into a valise. Divorce me, will he? I thought angrily. That’s what he thinks.
Elise came in. “Oh, Rhawnie, Steven told me. I’m so glad!”
“What do you mean you’re glad? That your stupid son wants to divorce me?”
“That you want to stop him,” she grinned. “I knew it would end this way. Don’t worry about Steven, darling: he'll be all right. He has his children and his career and he’ll find a wife someday. But Seth has nothing, only his wits and his anger. He needs you, Rhawnie. Be good to him.”
“I will try,” I said. “But first I’m going to break his head.”
The ride to Paris seemed interminable. I sat on the edge of my seat the whole way, clutching the divorce paper in my hand. Steven attempted to converse, but I wasn’t in the mood. What if, I thought, what if he’s found someone else? And that’s why he wanted to rush this thing through! I don’t care! I’ll break her head, too. I don’t care if she’s the Queen of France!
We arrived at the house on the Rue de Montmorency after nine o’clock that night. At first the house looked deserted. But when I pounded the knocker, that model of a woman’s hand in brass, Jules opened the door. At once his face became wreathed with smiles.
“Ah, Madame!“ he cried happily. Ah, so he knew we were married then. “Madame, it is so good to see you! What a happy occasion! It has been a long time!”
“Yes, Jules," I said, “a very long time!" I hugged him tightly.
“Good evening, Monsieur," Jules said to Steven, who came in behind me. “I will tell Monsieur Garrett that you are here."
“Don’t tell him, Jules," I said. “We’ll see him ourselves. Where is he?"
Jules said that Seth was in his study, then Steven put his hand on my arm and said, “I’ll let you go in alone, Rhawnie. I don’t really want to watch the carnage."
“You’re not coming?" I asked surprised. “But you will wait—"
He shook his head. “You don’t need me now. Just— don’t be too hard on him, Rhawnie. I think he did it for you, because he wanted you to be happy."
He kissed me softly, nodded to Jules, and went out. He gave an order to the coachmen and they drove off.
I let out my breath in a sigh and straightened my shoulders. I gripped the divorce paper securely and said, “Well, Jules, into the lion’s den, eh? How is he tonight? Black or white or grey?"
“Dark grey, Madame," said Jules seriously. “Verging on black."
“Ah, that’s bad," I grunted. “Listen, Jules, give me ten minutes, then bring in some champagne.“ He nodded understandingly. “Divorce me, will he?" I muttered to myself. “I’ll stuff this thing down his throat!"
Seth was sitting in a wing chair in front of the fire with a glass of brandy in one hand and a smouldering cigar in the other. He looked like he had just come in from riding. His boots were dusty and so were his tan breeches. His dark brown coat was rumpled and his white shirt was open at the throat. He didn’t look up when I came in.
“So,” I said, “this is how I find you after you betray me, enjoying yourself, swilling your brandy and smoking your stupid cigars!” I advanced on him and he lifted his head. I could tell from his surly expression and the watery look in his eyes that he had been drinking a lot. “You send your filthy lawyers to do your dirty work for you and then you come home and drink yourself to death because you know you’re the same coward you always were and that you don’t have the spine you were born with or the decency to come and tell me face to face that you don’t want to be married to me any more!”
I stood in front of him and held the scroll under his nose. He glared up at me.
“First you have the audacity to leave me at your parents’ house without so much as a goodbye or an I-wish-you-well, and then you send me this this piece of nonsense! You are as big a moron as ever, Seth McClelland! To think you can get rid of me by sending me a—a paper! You think a piece of writing can end what we had? You think a piece of writing will erase your memory from my mind? This thing means nothing to me! I refuse to accept it! Writing? Bah. You don’t get rid of an old horse by handing it a piece of writing! You don’t cut off a diseased limb by writing it a letter! You don’t tell someone you don’t love them any more by sending them a page full of drivel that they can’t even read! Do you know what I think of this divorce of yours?”
I waved the scroll over his head and then pitched it into the fire.
“That’s what I think of it! And don’t you dare try and send me another because it will end up in the same place. Divorce me, will you! I’d just like to see you try!”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me onto his lap. His arms went around me and he kissed me, hard and long. The brandy spilled on the carpet and he eased off for a second to flick his cigar into the fire. Then he kissed me again and again, until I was limp. I sighed and slid down a little so that I could rest my cheek on his shoulder.
“And that’s what I think of you, Gypsy,” he murmured. “Welcome home.”
“Nice to be here. Kiss me again.” His mo
uth moved over mine. “Oh, that’s nice. What a silly boy you are, Seth. I let you go off on your own for a little, and you start doing crazy things. You can’t be trusted.”
“I thought you wanted Steve,” he said.
“Steven is much too good for a dirty little Gypsy like me,” I told him. “You are the man for me. Always and forever.”
Jules came in bearing the champagne and a couple of glasses. I told him to bring over a low table and we would help ourselves.
“Whose house is this?” Seth asked when Jules had gone.
“It is my house,” I said, popping the cork on the champagne and pouring. “And Jules is my butler and this is my champagne and you just spilled your brandy on my carpet. You will have to learn to be more careful.” I gave him a glass and we touched rims. “Ah, thirsty work, getting your husband back,” I said when I had drained my champagne. “Harder even than getting him in the first place.” I squirmed around on his lap and refilled our glasses. “I tell you, when I saw your signature at the bottom of that paper, I wanted to—”
Seth laughed. “Steven shouldn’t do too much of this sort of thing. He’ll end up in jail.” He sipped. “My brother, a forger!”
“What are you talking about?” I said. “I saw your name is clear as anything. It was the only thing I could read.”
“But I didn’t put it there, precious. I’m not the schemer. Steve is. And I detect my mother’s fine hand in this, too. We’re both victims of a conspiracy.”
I stared at him blankly for a moment, then I threw back my head and laughed heartily. “Ah, so this brother of yours has a little Gypsy in him after all!”
“Maybe you should change your mind again,” Seth suggested.
“No, I have chosen the right brother this time. But you’d better not try to confuse me. I am very easily confused still.” We watched the fire for a few minutes. “How do you like that Steven!” I said in an amazed voice. “He tricked me! Because he knew I loved you and that I wouldn’t come to you any other way.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“No. I was very angry with you. I’m still angry with you, but I’ve decided to let you make it up to me. After we finish this champagne.”
He kissed my neck and started to take the pins out of my hair. The fire cracked. I felt happy and dreamy, and I thought about what a fine man Steven was and how good he had been to me.
“Seth, can I talk to you? It’s very important.”
“Of course, Rhawnie.”
“We are going to be real married people now. Forever and ever, until we die. I will never lie to you, ever again. But I don’t want an old lie to come between us.” I put my head on his chest he stroked my hair. “I want to tell you that when I told you that I didn’t sleep with Steven, that was a lie. We did, at the château when we were escaping.” Seth didn’t say anything. I looked up anxiously. “But that’s all, I swear it, just that once! We couldn’t help it. And—and it wasn’t even very good. You are much, much better! Oh, now you’re angry with me,” I wailed, lowering my head again. "I never should have said anything!”
“You thought you were dying and you lied anyway,” he said in a voice laden with reproach.
“But for a good reason!” I assured him quickly. “Because it’s not good for brothers to hate, and I thought you would hate him more if you knew. But now that we are really married again you might wonder about it from time to time, and you would doubt me. It’s better to tell the truth now, and get it over with.”
“Is that how you regard truth, Gypsy? As something unpleasant and distasteful?” I heard a little laugh under his words and I looked up quickly.
“You’re not angry with me? You forgive me?”
He sighed. “Little idiot. Put away your truths and your lies for the time being. There’s only one truth that interests me. You’re here and you love me.” He kissed me. “But no more lies, understand?”
“No, no,” I said eagerly. “No more lies! I have learned my lesson!”
“And no more stealing. How many more angry Barons and Sons of Dan are roaming the earth right now, looking for you?”
“None, I swear it! No more stealing and no more lying. I promise! May the fire jump out and consume me if I’m wrong!”
He laughed and put his two hands on the sides of my face. “You’re as crazy as ever. As beautiful and crazy as ever. I love you very much.”
“And I love you,” I said softly, “and I’ll never let you out of my sight again. And if you die first, I will die, too, because I wouldn’t trust you not to get into trouble—”
“Hush. Bad luck to talk of death,” he said. “I see the champagne is gone, and the fire is dying. Come on, Gypsy, it’s time for old married people like us to be in bed.” We stood for a few moments in front of the fire with our arms around each other, together, in our house.
“I feel very excited,” I said. “About us. We’re really going to have fun now, aren’t we, Gypsy?”
“Yes, Gypsy,” he said laughing, “we really are.”
I was eager to have our Adam with us, and Seth sent for Adam and Anna and David Thatcher. I sang in the great houses of Europe for the next six years and Seth was my business manager. He liked the job because he had plenty of time to gamble and we both liked the travelling. We had a wonderful time and we made a lot of money from gorgio audiences who wanted to hear the Golden Gypsy sing, but I was very happy when I got pregnant and had to stop to give birth to Eva.
Adam is a real little Gypsy. He has a gift with horses, and he loves cards and dice and poker chips. Seth and I still gamble because we like it too much to stop and I suppose we have influenced him. Some people think the way we are raising our children is a disgrace. I tell them that I was an accomplished thief when I was Adam’s age, and if he can deal off the bottom of the deck when he’s seven or eight, what’s the harm? I turned out all right, and so will he.
Garth and Elise are back at Highlands and we’ll take their grandchildren to see them soon, on our way to San Francisco. Seth says he thinks we should stay in one place for a while and have another baby. Sean never finished school, but he didn’t go home, either. He’s travelling and having adventures somewhere. I wonder if he’ll go to Russia?
Steven is Governor of Louisiana now! He says he won’t run for national office because he is unsympathetic to the causes that the voters of the South consider important. He hasn’t married and I wish he would, because I would feel better.
Seth and I had to travel a long way to find love, only to find that love had travelled with us. Now love will stay with us for the rest of our journey.
And that’s no lie.
Dangerous Obsession Page 56