by Jenny Lykins
"Now, my dear, I must say I have thoroughly enjoyed our little stroll through the gardens. So refreshing."
Without looking back she sang again, "Neckcloth, Reed Blackwell."
*******
The high-pitched shriek and crash of breaking glass were drowned out by a lively Virginia reel and the thick walls of the library. Reed side-stepped the brandy snifter with ease, but when the entire decanter hit the wall beside his head, droplets of the pungent liqueur sprinkled him liberally.
"Enough!" he roared when an ink holder found its way into Angeline's hands.
Angeline stood poised to hurl the ink in the direction of the decanter, but must have thought better of it. She lowered her arm but held on to the ink.
"It's that Amazon trollop, isn't it? First she wormed her way into your home. You have even begun to speak in the same, vulgar way she does. And now..."
"Angeline, you will mind your language." Reed marched over and snatched the ink from her hand. "Elise and I are in love. This was not something either of us planned, but what's done is done. I am willing to allow you to be the one to break it off. You can say you realized you don't love me, or that I'm an insufferable cad. Whatever you want. Besides," he said, spreading his hands and gesturing to the ball going on outside the mahogany doors, "we never officially announced our betrothal. Give any excuse you like - I'll back up whatever you say. But," he nailed her with a glare, "leave Elise out of it."
Angeline returned Reed's glare as the music filtered into the library, making a mockery of the betrothal party. She stared with narrowed eyes until Reed was about to turn and leave the room. Suddenly she dropped onto the dark green velvet settee and buried her face in her hands. An occasional sob broke the monotony of the high-pitched whines emanating through her fingers.
Reed stood still, uncertain of how to proceed. Before he had time to formulate a plan, Angeline raised a blotchy, tear-stained face to him. Red eyes looked up at him. Her nose was pink, and crimson splotches dotted her face.
Now I see why she's never used this tactic on me before.
While he was berating himself for such a low thought, she spoke.
"You cannot marry her, Reed. Our baby is a Blackwell, and he will be born a Blackwell."
Reed's entire body jerked, then he stopped himself from laughing out loud.
"I beg you pardon, Angeline. I thought I heard you say ‘our baby.'"
"That is exactly what I said, Reed. I did not think I would have to spell out that I am enceinte."
Reed did laugh at that.
"No, my dear, not under normal circumstances. But you see, one has to have been, shall we say...exposed...in order to achieve that delicate condition. And we have not been...exposed to each other in that manner."
"Oh no? What do you call what you did to me the night of your last ball?"
He froze. His heart began to hammer.
"What are you talking about?"
"I am talking about the night of your last ball, when you climbed into my bedroom window, foxed out of your head, and forced yourself on me!"
"You're lying!"
"You forced yourself on me, saying we would be married and you had no desire to wait. You had not even asked for my hand, yet you forced your attentions on me. Now you are going to be a father, and I will not stand aside and bear a bastard while you marry that trollop. I tried to get you to stop but you refused. You forced me, Reed Blackwell. And it was horrible!"
Her face was once again covered by her hands, but Reed took no notice. His heart thundered in his chest, and he fought to keep his stomach from turning.
The night of his last ball. Dear God, that was when he'd woke the next morning in a field by the river. He'd been wearing strange breeches and shoes but was naked from the waist up. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, where he'd been, or where those articles of clothing had come from. He still didn't know. And now Angeline was accusing him of...impossible.
"You had on strange clothes," she continued, as if reading his mind, "and when you staggered home you were so drunk you left your shirt and coat behind. I was so furious with you I threw them in the fire. The next day when you came to Mon Coeur and proposed I decided to forgive you."
Reed felt as though his thoughts were struggling through thick, black mud. Nothing made sense. He knew he hadn't been drunk that night. He very seldom drank at all, and when he did he held his liquor like a gentleman. Could he have had some type of seizure? Could he have been sleepwalking? Could he have been drugged?
Angeline was crying again, but now one hand lay protectively against her stomach.
Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it back. He took a step toward her and forced himself to speak, his voice not much more than a gravelly whisper.
"Make yourself presentable, Angeline. We have a betrothal to announce."
*******
Elise alternately paced the floor or stared out the window of her bedroom, as she had been doing since Reed had gone into the library with Angeline. She couldn't fake an interest in the ball or the guests. Not until she knew the outcome of this meeting.
She saw a movement behind her in the mirrored blackness of the window and spun around, running to Reed when he stepped into the room. Something was wrong. She knew it. She stopped herself from flying into his arms, alarm bells going off in her head like a cockpit with an engine fire.
Hollow eyes stared out at her from a ghostly white face. His hair tumbled across his brow, the victim of repeated abuse from his fingers. As she watched he raked a handful of hair back into place, then clenched his fist as if to pull it out.
A pain started growing in the very center of her chest even before he spoke.
"I have to marry her, Elise."
His voice was hoarse and barely audible. She knew she couldn't have heard him right, even though her breathing had stopped and her lungs were beginning to burn.
"What?" Her own voice was nothing more than a whisper.
"Marry her. I have to marry her."
After what seemed like hours, she began to breathe again.
"What do you mean you have to marry her? Is she holding a gun to your head? You don't have to do anything. You're a grown man and no one can make you..."
Realization struck her like a kick to the stomach. All breathing stopped again, and she fumbled blindly for a chair. She had to sit down.
"She's pregnant. That's it, isn't it? She's pregnant."
Jealousy knifed through Elise with such force it staggered her. The thought of Reed sleeping with another woman, even if he didn't remember he had a wife, caused a pain she could hardly bear. She raised hope-filled eyes, praying that he would deny it and say it was all a joke. His look of abject misery shattered her hope into sharp, jagged slivers that pierced her heart.
*******
Elise stood with her fingernails digging into her palms, watching people all around toast the couple's happiness. It was sheer force of will, and a good deal of self-inflicted pain that kept the tears from pooling in her eyes.
She would have preferred to stay in her room, locking the door and locking out the world and all its misery, but she learned long ago to face life with her chin up and her shoulders back. There was no way she would allow Angeline to see her upset.
The toasting mercifully ended when Obiah announced that dinner was served. Elise moved with forced nonchalance to the edge of the crowd. She didn't want to be herded too close to the "happy couple." Several more hours of this torture, and she could escape to her room and then...what? She didn't know if she could last that long.
A hand cupped her elbow and guided her toward the dining room. Jeff was grinning down at her with a sardonic look, and one sandy eyebrow raised when she glared at him.
"You did not think it would happen, did you?"
Elise stiffened at his words and removed her elbow from his grasp with a yank. She tried to walk away from him, but he stayed close on her heels. Ignoring him didn't work, so she finally spoke over her shoulder
.
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm starved, and I see Lil waving for me."
Before she could make her escape, Jeff's hand shot out and grabbed her arm again.
"If you find yourself in need of consolation, my shoulder is yours for the taking." He was such a good actor, his sympathy sounded almost real.
Elise refused to dignify his comment. She simply jerked her arm free and wound her way through the crowd to Lil.
The magnificent array of food only caused her stomach to turn. She wasn't sure if she'd ever want to eat again, let alone eat any of the feast before her.
Her stomach lurched at the mountains of sliced ham, turkey and beef. Whole roasted chickens were surrounded by steamed, fried or raw vegetables. There was pickled watermelon rind, corn relish, potato salad, fluffy, pungent yeast rolls and baking powder biscuits. Dozens of raw fruits and vegetables were cut to look like flowers or birds. The dessert table held an array of confections, from airy meringues, custards and cookies, to heavy cakes soaked in rum.
Any other time Elise would have plowed through a meal like this and sampled everything. But now she moved slowly through the line, allowing the occasional selection to be placed on her plate, not even aware of what was being given her.
Lil clucked in motherly fashion at the meager fare that Elise now held.
"My dear, I know a lady is not supposed to exhibit a great appetite, but one can carry things too far."
She bustled over to the French doors and stepped onto the veranda. Elise followed her in a trance-like state, not caring where she went.
They sat on a bench at a far corner of the porch in companionable silence. Lil did justice to her meal, managing to eat with gusto while at the same time maintaining her ladylike demeanor.
Elise rearranged the food on her plate. She sliced off a bit of ham and shoved it between her lips. She had always heard about food tasting like sawdust to a person who was very upset, and now she knew exactly what that meant. Every bite she forced herself to take had the taste and texture of sawdust. After just a few bites, she sat her plate aside and stared off into space.
Aunt Lil's pudgy, porcelain hand rested on her knee and patted.
"Now, now, my dear. These things have a way of working out. The deed isn't done yet."
Elise snorted for the second time that night and shook her head. If the deed hadn't already been done she wouldn't be sitting here, feeling sorry for herself. But she stopped short of uttering the comment. It wouldn't help matters to broadcast Angeline's pregnancy. She also didn't deny what Lil was referring to. It was obvious Lil knew how she and Reed felt about each other.
"I wouldn't place any bets that this one's going to work out, Aunt Lil. The engagement has been announced. And I have a feeling that Angeline is not going to want a long engagement."
Lil didn't try to argue the point. She simply tsked tsked and muttered about impatient young people as she rose to her feet.
"Are you coming back in, my dear?"
"No. I think I'll stay out here for a while. Maybe the fresh air will do me good."
Elise watched Lil disappear back into the ballroom. She sat for several minutes, occasionally kneading her temples in an attempt to dispel the growing throb there. She decided distraction might work better. She rose from the bench and headed for the solitude of the gardens.
One circuit of the grounds proved to be peaceful enough, but her heart wrenched each time she heard a pair of lovers murmuring to each other in the darkness. Just as she was about to step back into the ballroom, a dark, staggering shape loomed ahead of her.
"So, what have we here? The little houseguest from nowhere."
Whiskey fumes and a noisome blast of bad breath forced Elise backward. With her head held sideways in a vain attempt to avoid a direct assault on her senses, she studied the intruder from the corner of her eye.
She had met him earlier in the evening. His name was Ballard Fetter, if she remembered correctly, and he was one of the many Angeline had given her "poor Elise" speech to. Even then he had been so drunk he could barely stand. His condition had gone downhill during the course of the evening.
Before she could finish sizing him up, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the ballroom.
"Had my eye on you all night," he slurred as he swung her into an unsteady waltz. "We'll dance awhile, then maybe you'll give me some of what you've been giving Blackwell."
Elise couldn't believe her ears. She tried to jerk free, but he had her by the wrist and an iron grip around her waist.
His cravat was spattered with droplets of red wine and an assortment of food clung to his beard. The front of his jacket was stained with unrecognizable grease spots. When he leered at her, his teeth were covered with yellow slime and dotted profusely with bits of green. Her stomach rolled.
"Mr. Fetter...it is Fetter, isn't it? I have no desire to dance with you, nor give you whatever it is you think I'm giving Mr. Blackwell. However, if you continue to breathe on me, I might be persuaded to vomit on you, but then that would be redundant, wouldn't it?"
Elise's smile was so sugary sweet, anyone watching would have guessed her to be enjoying herself.
It apparently took several seconds for the meaning of her words to wade through the alcohol in Fetter's mind. When he did manage to separate her facial expression from her words, his eyes widened in rage, and his grip tightened.
"I'll show you what you're going to give me," he said, "and if you don't want to make a scene you'll follow me out this door real quiet."
Elise raised her eyebrows with feigned surprise.
"Why, Mr. Fetter, wherever did you get the idea that I don't want to cause a scene? Why, I have no qualms whatsoever of drawing attention to myself. After all, what would I have to gain by not doing so?"
Fetter stared at her blearily. Unaccustomed to women he couldn't intimidate, he made the mistake of calling her bluff.
His hand slid from around her waist to roughly squeeze her breast while he continued to clumsily dance and shove her toward the door.
Elise reacted without thinking. She stepped back with her right foot, then sent her knee crashing upward into his groin. She hit her target with brutal accuracy. Fetter rose several inches under the force of her knee. A blast of fetid breath swooshed over her in a muffled Oooomph that resounded throughout the room. The alcohol must have dulled his pain, because instead of falling to the floor in a fetal position, he held his crotch with one hand and lunged, bent over, in her direction.
Enough was enough. Elise stepped back, grabbed a handful of gown and hiked it above her knees, then spun around with a roundhouse kick. The blade of her right foot met with Fetter's forehead, knocking him backward onto the gleaming ballroom floor. When he hit, he slid for over two feet, stopping with his head halfway under Angeline's skirts before she squealed and ran away.
When the adrenaline stopped pumping, Elise became aware of a deafening silence. She raised her head to gaze at her surroundings. Hundreds of eyes stared at her, a considerable amount of white showing in all of them.
But the only pair that really mattered was Reed's, wide with shock and concern. She stood for several seconds, her chest heaving from exertion, before she remembered to drop her skirts. She smoothed a few imaginary wrinkles from the silk and flicked an invisible piece of lint. Retreat might be the better part of discretion right now.
With a shrug directed to Reed, she daintily lifted her skirts and stepped over the unconscious Fetter.
"He just wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer," she said, and held her head high as she walked out of the ballroom. She kept her regal bearing all the way down the hall and up the staircase, cringing when the ballroom erupted with the buzz of voices the minute she disappeared from view. She crumpled in a miserable heap only after shooting the bolt home on her bedroom door.
CHAPTER TWENTY
He was having the dream again, but he couldn’t control it. Elise was running through the house,
calling his name, and when he found her she pulled him into the library. Only this time he was the one to disappear. He watched, helpless, as she clawed the air, wearing a tiny, black shift that barely covered her, and screaming "Don't marry her."
He woke with a start. When he turned onto his back, beads of perspiration rolled downward from his forehead, and trickled along his scalp. The bed linens were wound around his body, plastered to his sweat-drenched limbs, and they refused to loosen their tenacious grip on him. He took out his frustrations on the unfortunate sheet and kicked savagely. He felt an uncharacteristic satisfaction at the loud ripping sound his actions produced. Within seconds the sodden mass of linen lay in shreds on the floor and Reed was breathing hard, fighting the urge to put his fist through a wall.
Don't marry her. He could still hear Elise's words ricocheting through his mind. They were the last words she'd said to him last night as he walked out the door to announce his betrothal. He knew her whispered voice hadn't been meant for him to hear. Earlier she'd suggested Angeline might be lying, or that maybe the baby wasn't his. How could he tell her he'd forced himself on a woman? How could he explain that Angeline had known things she couldn't have known? She had seen the strange clothing. And now he knew he'd left behind the jacket and shirt in her room after...after...
He couldn't tell Elise, this strange and wonderful person who had appeared in his life, that he had raped a woman. Even if he could endure the shame of admitting it, he could never stand to see the revulsion on her face when she looked at him. The hurt in her eyes as he'd stood beside Angeline and announced their plans to marry had been a dull-bladed knife that had ripped into his heart. Choking out the words that he intended to marry Angeline was the hardest thing he'd ever done. And being toasted by the well-wishers, forcing a gaiety that he doubted he would ever feel again, was nothing more than an opportunity to numb his senses.