A Question of Class

by Julia Tagan

  “Not tonight, I’m afraid.”

  He moved to the side of the carriage and held out his hand. Catherine reached out and was surprised at how it enveloped her own. She had always believed her hands and feet were far too large, but this man’s made her own feel quite dainty. Catherine gathered her skirts with her free hand and settled into the seat.

  Mr. Thomas picked up his saddle from the roadway. As he made his way around to the back of the carriage to store it on the rear rack, she gave the reins a sharp snap and the carriage heaved forward without him.

  Catherine urged the horse to canter on and focused on the road in front of her. She felt terrible leaving him stranded like that, particularly after he’d stopped to assist her, but returning to the Mount was not an option. He knew where it was, and could reach it on foot. The moon was shining brightly now, and she reassured herself with the thought that he’d have plenty of light as he made his way.

  Something thumped hard on the back of the carriage. Before she could turn around to see what was going on, a body hurtled into the seat next to her. She screamed and pulled the horse to a sharp halt, and Mr. Thomas crumpled to the floor of the carriage, his head by her feet and his legs landing hard in her lap.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He clutched at the dash and awkwardly righted himself.

  Catherine shoved his legs off and huddled as far in the corner of the seat as she could. In the small phaeton, they were already practically on top of each other. “What on earth? What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “You could’ve killed me!”

  “I didn’t expect you to go leaping onto the back of the carriage like a madman.”

  “And I didn’t expect you to steal my horse.”

  “I wouldn’t have stolen it. I would’ve returned it to you somehow. I was only borrowing it.”

  “You’re quite mad.”

  “You have no idea.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. He rubbed his shoulder. “Are you quite finished? It’s been a rather long day and I’d like to get on my way.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride. Now give me the reins, and let’s have enough of this nonsense.”

  Reluctantly, Catherine handed over the reins and stared straight ahead while Mr. Thomas, with a quick flick of his wrist, turned the carriage north.

  * * * *

  On the ride back to the Mount, Mr. Thomas didn’t speak, and neither did Catherine. Once, when the carriage hit a particularly large bump, Catherine caromed into him. A strange spark traveled through her body and she picked up the scent of horses and leather and something faintly sweet, like vanilla, before pulling away.

  He turned the carriage down the cyprus-lined driveway. In the distance, the house rose up in front of them. In the past, Catherine had taken delight in this particular view of the Mount, with its stately white columns and large portico. The architecture was symmetrical and solid.

  Tonight, though, the house seemed ostentatious and ominous. The two chimneys jutted up into the dark sky on either side of the widow’s walk and its large windows resembled empty, black eyes. Luckily, Morris snored terribly and preferred to sleep with the windows shut, which might prevent him from hearing their approach. The faster she could get rid of Mr. Thomas, the better.

  Davis emerged from the house, rubbing the back of his head and yawning. Mr. Thomas startled when she called Davis by name, and stood back as she informed the sleepy old man she’d had a mishap on Bloomingdale Road and the bay was most likely standing in front of the barn door.

  “After you’ve put the bay away, please take care of this man who kindly helped me.” She turned to face Mr. Thomas. “Thank you sir, for your assistance. Davis will help you get back on your way.”

  Davis, shaking his head, shuffled off to the stable.

  “You live here?” Mr. Thomas asked, incredulously. For the first time, to Catherine’s satisfaction, he seemed confused.

  “I am the lady of the house, yes. I am Mrs. Catherine Delcour.”

  His face broke into a wide grin and he put his head back and laughed. So he had heard of her, heard the snide remarks and mockery everyone in town had entertained themselves with the past six months.

  “Is that so amusing to you, Mr. Thomas? I’m glad my predicament is a source of such entertainment.”

  He smiled and took a step toward her. “Your predicament is now my predicament, Mrs. Delcour.”

  Catherine’s head began to spin, most likely from the lack of food and sleep and the excitement of the past few hours. “You aren’t making any sense. What on earth do you mean?”

  “Luckily, there’s plenty of time for me to explain, as I’ll be staying here with you at the Mount.”

  She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t think so. Under no circumstances will I have a stranger in my house. My husband would never allow it. Who do you think you are?”

  “Please allow me to introduce myself,” he said with a flourish. “I am your brother-in-law, and Mr. Delcour has hired me to keep an eye on you. And from what I can tell, it looks like I arrived just in time.”

  2

  The front door opened and a dour-looking woman in a uniform glowered at Benjamin.

  “Mr. Thomas, I see you’ve finally arrived. We were expecting you earlier.”

  He was surprised by the servant’s audacity. “I’m afraid I was delayed.”

  “I see. Well, Mr. Delcour has retired for the evening. I will see you up to your room.” She eyed Mrs. Delcour. “What are you doing outside?”

  Mrs. Delcour’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. After a moment, she appeared to recover her composure. “I was greeting our guest.”

  “The night air is dangerous and your husband would not approve. Come inside, both of you, and keep your voices down.”

  “Mr. Thomas, please have a seat in the parlor,” said Mrs. Delcour. “I must speak with Mrs. Daggett for a moment. I’ll be back shortly.” She disappeared into the house, and he couldn’t help but admire her receding figure.

  Benjamin had been unnerved during the trip to the Mount. He hadn’t been in such close proximity to a woman in some time, and Mrs. Delcour’s perfume smelled of jasmine, reminding him of the tropical paradise of Haiti where he’d spent his youth. He could tell she was making every effort to avoid contact with his body, remaining rigid as the carriage swayed along the road. He was oddly disappointed when they reached their destination.

  He studied his surroundings. An enormous painting of Morris and Catherine Delcour hung over the fireplace. Delcour perched on a large upholstered chair resembling a throne, while his wife sat on a stool beside him, her body in profile but her head turned toward the artist. Her rose-colored satin gown gave off a brilliant sheen and showed off her supple figure, but her eyes most fascinated Benjamin. They were soft and warm, a copper color matching the hue of the curls around her face. Her expression was nothing like the blazing look and pursed mouth he’d seen minutes earlier. In the painting, Delcour sat back grandly, with one hand possessively draped over her arm, as if he were posing with a favorite hunting dog instead of an exquisitely beautiful young woman.

  The day before, Delcour had warned Benjamin about his young wife. They’d met at the Delcour & Carpenter Wine Shop, a large space with swept floors and big windows, filled with racks of wine bottles as well as rum, gin and brandy. A couple of young assistants wearing aprons had eyed Benjamin suspiciously and directed him up a flight of stairs. Delcour’s office, in contrast to the airy shop, was stuffy and strewn with papers. The open window let in the various odors off the street but little breeze.

  At first, Benjamin had been shocked by the change in Delcour’s appearance. Instead of the wiry, high-strung man he’d last seen nineteen years ago in Haiti, Delcour had become a middle-aged man with a paunch, whose expensive clothes couldn’t hide his ungainly body. Of course, Benjamin had only been a boy of ten back then, but he’d found Delcour fierce and frightening as
the Frenchman wooed, and eventually married, Benjamin’s older sister, Dolly.

  After stifling the instinct to reach over the desk and wring Delcour’s neck, Benjamin sat in the offered chair. He noticed Delcour was eyeing him closely. He was not happy to see him.

  “It’s been a long while.” Delcour’s accent had softened slightly. “Nineteen years. I hadn’t even realized you were alive.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t remember much from the last night we were together in Haiti,” lied Benjamin. “I woke up the morning after the slave rebellion to a painful headache, and made my way to safety. I assume I’d been hit on the head, but I’m not sure how I made it through the evening alive.”

  Delcour pursed his lips. “Those were terrible times. Best not to relive them. And what have you been doing the past two decades? It’s strange we’ve never run into each other before now.”

  “I’ve been at sea. I became a member of the crew of the ship that rescued me off Haiti, as I had no other way of supporting myself. I’ve traveled to many places, but never stayed for long.”

  “You’re all grown up,” said Delcour. “You look like Dolly, I must say. Same hair, same eyes.”

  “I hope it’s not too painful a reminder.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “I see you’ve created quite a success here in New York,” said Benjamin.

  Delcour smiled. “My partner, Mr. Carpenter, and I seem to have done well for ourselves, that is true.”

  Benjamin delivered his speech clearly, just as he’d practiced it. He flattered Delcour about his success in the wine importing industry, told him his business acumen was widely respected, and, as expected, Delcour had lapped up the praise.

  “I’ll soon be the biggest wine importer on the East coast,” boasted Delcour. “Being born and raised in France gives me an upper hand here. Yet, as in Haiti, I have to work hard.”

  “I have little,” said Benjamin. “But after years traveling around the world, I feel it’s time to settle down. You’re my only relation, and I’m afraid I come to you with my hat in my hand. I want to learn from the best.”

  “Do you know anything about business?”

  “No. I never had much schooling and I’ve more of a taste for ale than wine from being on the seas. But I’m willing to do anything you require. I can help unload ships. I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “No brother-in-law of mine will be unloading ships,” said Delcour. “But I do think I have a job for you. Let’s see how you do and if all goes well, you might be able to do great things, as I did.”

  Benjamin had agreed, but once he’d gotten his orders to keep a close eye on Delcour’s second wife while Delcour was away on business, he wasn’t so sure. Benjamin had one week to carry out his plan, as long as Delcour’s silly wife didn’t get in the way.

  “Mr. Thomas.” Mrs. Delcour swept into the parlor, interrupting Benjamin’s musings. “Please let me apologize. You can imagine my surprise, as I had no idea Mr. Delcour had a brother-in-law. Let’s start over. Perhaps we can take a moment to speak before we turn in for the night, as I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”

  The change in her demeanor was startling. He had his work cut out for him, that much was clear. Delcour had warned him his wife was a vixen and not to be trusted. She was trying to charm him, but Benjamin would play along and see where she was headed.

  The surly housekeeper entered the room. Benjamin couldn’t tell whether the woman’s stern expression was permanent or the result of being awakened in the middle of the night.

  “Shall I fetch Mr. Delcour and have him join you?” Mrs. Daggett asked.

  “No. Mr. Thomas will see Mr. Delcour in the morning. Please bring us some tea.”

  Mrs. Daggett muttered something unintelligible as she left the room.

  Mrs. Delcour offered Benjamin a weak smile. She looked miserable, and for a moment he felt a touch of pity, as she seemed quite out of her element. He couldn’t imagine what it was like, living under the same roof with Delcour. And that servant.

  “Now, Mr. Thomas, how are you related to my husband? As Mr. Delcour has no sisters I am aware of, I assume you are the brother of the first Mrs. Delcour?”

  “Indeed. I am the younger brother of the first Mrs. Delcour.” The words stuck in Benjamin’s throat.

  “And you lived in Haiti for a time?”

  “I did,” said Benjamin. “I was born there, and it was my home for ten years. Our families knew each other well, as Mr. Delcour was the largest plantation owner on the island and my father owned a smaller sugar plantation nearby. Until the uprising occurred.”

  “Mr. Delcour did mention the uprising to me, ever so briefly.” She gazed steadily at Benjamin and her voice softened. “I understand when slaves revolted, Mr. Delcour was unable to save the first Mrs. Delcour, though he almost died trying. So tragic.”

  It made Benjamin ill, remembering that evening, even if it was almost twenty years ago. The sounds of the slaves’ howls as they burned down houses and massacred everyone in their path still haunted him at night.

  “Tragic, yes,” he said.

  “It’s odd Mr. Delcour never mentioned you, or the fact that you had survived as well.”

  “He didn’t know. We fled to different ends of Haiti. I flagged down a passing ship the next day, and from there I went wherever the high seas took me.”

  “I imagine you learned many skills while traveling the world.”

  “I did, including how to leap onto moving objects.”

  The woman reddened. “I am sorry about that. I’m not sure what I was thinking. And I’m glad you’re not hurt. But you can see, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve learned my lesson. So there’s no need for you to stay and keep an eye on me. In fact, if you leave now, I’ll let Mr. Delcour know you came by in the night but are now off to seek distant shores.”

  Mrs. Daggett returned before Benjamin could reply. She put down the tray with a clatter and stomped off. As Mrs. Delcour poured tea into the two cups, Benjamin noticed her hands had a tint of redness to them, implying she’d seen her share of hard work. She handed Benjamin his tea and buried her hands deep in her lap.

  Benjamin took a sip and placed his cup and saucer on the table. He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a folded piece of paper.

  “This is a contract I have with Mr. Delcour. He has engaged me to stay with you until his return from Trenton.”

  She stared hard at the paper before folding it up and handing it back to him. The look on her face was inscrutable, and Benjamin couldn’t help but notice how her expression differed from the face of the girl who gazed down at him from the painting. The latter seemed sweet and soft, while the woman across from him flashed wary and untrusting eyes. Yet her lips still had a vulnerability to them, and the contrast was intriguing. She appeared to be around twenty. Benjamin shook his head, clearing his thoughts. His job was simple. Keep a close watch on Catherine Delcour until her husband returned, and use the time to figure out the most effective way to avenge his sister’s death.

  “There is no need for you to police me,” she declared.

  “The contract seems quite clear. And if not, where were you off to this fine evening?”

  Her face flushed. “A friend in town needed my help.”

  “That wouldn’t be Percy Bonneville, would it? Your friend in need?”

  She stood abruptly and turned to leave, but Benjamin spoke up. “Mr. Delcour told me about your dalliance with Mr. Bonneville. Of course, it’s no concern of mine with whom you decide to associate. But for the next week, I’ve been hired to make sure you stay far away from him. And that is what I intend to do.”

  “I have no need of a watchdog. I’m a grown woman and I’ll do whatever I please.”

  Benjamin rose to his full height. As he expected, Delcour’s second wife was a dilettante, a spoiled child, with none of his sister Dolly’s grace or charm. It would be his pleasure to teach this girl a lesson.

  “You will not do
whatever you please anymore, Mrs. Delcour. Your husband’s reputation is on the line, and I’ve promised him you’ll cause no further scandals in town with your behavior.”

  The woman’s face filled with fury and she clenched her hands into tight fists. “My behavior? If you only knew what he has done.”

  She was less than a foot away from him. Benjamin had a sudden memory of her body touching his during the ride and he stifled the urge to put his hands around her face and breathe in the jasmine of her perfume.

  “But you are only a poor relation, aren’t you?” she continued. “One who will so quickly do his master’s bidding in the hopes of gaining some of his fortune. Let this be a warning to you, Mr. Thomas, Mr. Delcour will use you up and spit you out.” She shot one last glare at him. “Just as he did me.”

  3

  Catherine remained in her room the next morning, dreading the thought of seeing Morris and Mr. Thomas. She could hear their voices wafting up from the breakfast room downstairs, the low drone of Morris followed by the deeper baritone of their guest. She was incensed Morris had hired this man to watch over her. The idea of being kept a virtual prisoner until she was tossed aboard a ship made her livid and panicky. At this rate, she’d never find her way out of Morris’s grasp.

  She was startled by three sharp raps at her bedroom door. Mrs. Daggett stood in the hallway. “Mr. Delcour wants you to accompany him and Mr. Thomas on a tour of the property. They’ll be waiting for you outside the stables.”

  “Please tell them I am ill, and will not be coming downstairs today.” Catherine coughed a couple of times for effect.

  Mrs. Daggett flashed a triumphant smile. “Mr. Delcour said if you refused, he would send Mr. Thomas up to bring you down himself.”

  The woman was insufferable, and Catherine gave her a scowl before shutting the door and dressing in her riding habit. This would be torturous. Most likely the two men would spend the ride mocking her attempted escape.

  Catherine drank a cup of chocolate in the dining room and watched the two men from the window. They stood together outside the barn as Davis saddled up three horses. Morris was small in stature, about six inches shorter than Mr. Thomas, and his dark hair was plastered to his skull from the heat. Catherine expected Mr. Thomas to be leaning into her husband, hands in his pockets and hanging on every word, like the clerks at his firm. Instead, he stood upright and absently gazed around him, nodding his head every so often at whatever Morris was saying. This had the comical effect of making Morris stand on his toes and speak even louder. At one point, Mr. Thomas’s gaze scanned the house, and he looked right at her. She moved away from the window, placed her cup on the sideboard and headed outside.