Page 26 of Fragile Wicked Things

I crawled along the upper floor to avoid being seen, then down a dark corridor, stealth-like. In the dark, I couldn't see the way to my bedroom, but I knew I would come to it as long as I continued in a straight line. Instead, I crashed headfirst against something.

"Catherine," Edward said, looking down at me. "Playtime is over. Go to your room. We're leaving."

How did he get there so quickly if, moments before, he was at the front door?

Later, when we finally piled into the carriage, our belongings tucked away above, Edward and I looked back at the estate. It had been a true home for me, and I wondered what lay ahead. I continued to look back, but Edward grew tired, turned, and stared ahead, quiet and forlorn. He held my hand.

In the distance, we heard the incessant barking of the dogs. The wind carried the men's horrendous screams across to us. Then, the crack of a gunshot. An animal growled, then whimpered. I turned back one last time to see a fire had started near the creek.

The murderess was dead.

* * *

It was still night when we arrived at a hotel in London; I nestled into one bedroom of the suite, and Edward took the other.

He had been quiet for most of the ride and at the hotel.

Still, he helped me ready for bed, tucked me in, and kissed me on the forehead.

When he closed the door to my bedroom, darkness settled in, and although I could see nothing, my eyes were wide open, unable to sleep.

Edward and Giovanni whispered on the other side of my bedroom door.

In the end, exhaustion overcame me, and my mind filled with thoughts of Mathilda; we left in such a hurry that I didn't have an opportunity to say bye to my miserable governess.

The next morning, I was surprised no one woke me and crept out of bed, swinging my favorite doll, Clara, in my hand while I took a peek outside my door.

Finding no one about, I skipped to Edward's bedroom, ran in, and jumped into his high bed.

He wasn't there either. I called out to him, and when I received no response, I called for Giovanni next.

I was alone. Edward's bed felt cold; the bedding had not been disturbed, and I realized he hadn't slept there all night.

Curled in his bed, I flung the blanket over me, hiding away from the rest of the world.

I turned to thoughts of America, a place I had read about and never imagined I would be visiting.

The trip over would be long and arduous, but I knew I would be taken care of; as long as Edward was there, I felt safe.

Giovanni bounded into Edward's room, interrupting my peaceful existence and said to gather my things.

We had to leave. When I asked him about Edward, he told me he was already on the boat, preparing our room and sent Giovanni to fetch me.

I dressed in a hurry, brushed my hair and teeth, and then gathered a few of my personal things: Clara, a bit of candy I always kept in my pocket, and a picture book.

Later that morning, Giovanni left me alone on the dock as he went about the business of collecting our trunks, shouting orders at the young men who carried our belongings onto the ship, cursing when one man said he "didn't take no orders from no gypsy.” I walked away from them, from their shouting and shoving and stared in awe at the steamship, its smoking chimneys and multitude of tiny windows with countless eyes looking back at me.

I had heard the people around me refer to the boat as "she," and there, against the stark white paint, was her name, Clara. A good omen, I thought.

"Caterina. Caterina."

Giovanni scooped me into his arms, but it wasn't the same as when Edward held me; Giovanni was rougher and detached.

He carried me aboard the ship, past the throngs of people lined up on the deck, waving to family and friends below on solid ground.

He whisked me away down a corridor and into a room, where he dropped me to the floor and waited until our belongings arrived. I looked around the small, empty room.

"Where is Mr. Rochester?" I asked.

Giovanni never answered and told me to be still and lay down and take a nap, and when I told him I wasn't tired, he ignored me and said he had to take care of something.

I wasn't allowed to leave the room, he told me, so I had better get some rest. Then he left me alone for hours.

I had thought Edward would arrive shortly, but by the time the ship sailed, I became worried.

What if he missed the boat? Or worse. What if she got him?

I knew that couldn't be true because the men who had arrived the night before had killed the red-haired murderess, and I needn't worry any longer.

Lunchtime was spent in my room with Giovanni.

Again, I inquired after Edward and given the same response; he was busy taking care of things, and I would see him later that evening at suppertime.

When the supper hour arrived, I found myself alone again and waited long past the appropriate hour for dinner until I heard Giovanni shuffling about outside the door.

I sat up in bed, ready to give him an earful about my hunger, but when the door opened, Edward stood there.

I ran to him and threw my arms about him, catching him off guard, for I wanted to show him how much I had missed him, hoping he would never leave me again.

"Where were you?" I asked.

"I had some things to take care of for our new life in America."

"Where are we going?"

"A place called New Orleans. It's warmer than England. Very little rain."

"Sounds lovely. And what of the sun? Is it warm and bright all day long?"

He hesitated and withdrew into his thoughts. "The sun will keep you warm and safe. That is why I chose it as our new home. We must go now to the dining room."

I held Edward's hands with both of mine and as we walked down the corridor, he would lift me and swing me with one hand.

I thought him to be so very strong. During dinner, we spoke of our new life in this southern part of America, where people spoke English and French, and I would be exposed to strange customs, lively music, and even stranger food.

I assured him my palate would welcome it.

While I chatted nonstop, I couldn't help but notice Edward looking at the table next to us, eavesdropping on the man asking a waiter if he had seen his wife who was more than an hour late.

The waiter offered to send someone to their room, but the husband waved the idea away, saying he'd already done that to find the room empty.

He seemed more annoyed than worried and gave the waiter his order with precise instructions on handling his steak.

Several times, I had to speak louder to draw Edward's attention away from the man, and whenever he returned his eyes to me, he would smile.

The children at the other tables spoke little, if at all.

"Where have you been?" I overheard the man ask as a woman approached his table. She held a kerchief to her neck.

"I was in our suite," she said, sitting down.

"I sent someone to check the room, but there was no answer. I checked myself to be sure."

"I had fallen asleep. It's strange. I was on my way here earlier when something happened."

"What?" the husband said.

"I'm not sure. I don't recall. The next thing I remember, I was stumbling back to our room. I feel rather weak, Victor." A clenched kerchief in hand, she dropped her arm onto the table, and her hand flew open, exposing a bloody cloth.

"You're pale. My God, you're bleeding. Did you fall?"

"I'm not sure."

The husband signaled to a waiter and asked to have his wife see a doctor at once.

While her husband took care of matters, the wife looked over at our table, unfocused at first, then squinted her eyes and when she noticed Edward, she stared at him.

She opened her mouth to say something to Edward, but then he turned to me at once.

"Let's dance,” he said.

With the band in full swing on the dance floor, I stepped onto Edward's feet. He carried me across and spun me around faster until I felt like I flew through the air. My laughter was contagious, and others looked on in pure delight at us.

I never tired of the journey, and Giovanni entertained me during the day when Edward was off "taking care of business.

" It was a magical place for me, but I believe Giovanni took ill, reacting to the boat's motion on the water; he appeared quite sallow and carried a bag for his sickness.

At times, I found him sleeping in a lounge chair.

All my nights were spent with Edward, beginning with dinner, followed by dancing and then he tucked me into bed every night.

In the morning when I had awoken, I always found myself alone and Edward's bed not slept in.

This continued for the nine-day journey it took from England before arriving in New York in the evening.

First, we saw the lights on land and, as we grew closer, more lights sparkled in the darkness, welcoming us to this new country that would become our home. I shivered from the cold breeze, and Edward removed his jacket to wrap around me. It smelled of him.

"Then you'll be cold," I told him as he placed the jacket around me.

"I'll be fine. It's you I worry about."

"What's that place called?"

"New York City. It's an island."

"Like home."

"Yes, like home, but smaller."

"Is New Orleans far away?"

"Quite far away. We'll stay here a while before traveling south. Would you like that?"

We stayed for several weeks. It was a great, huge city, but I was used to large cities full of people coming and going, always in a hurry to get somewhere from somewhere else.

People never rested or stopped except in the park where Giovanni took me.

It was warmer than London and didn't rain as much.

We traveled by train from New York to New Orleans, making several stops—Philadelphia, Washington, Charlotte, and Atlanta.

Everything went by quickly; the cities blended in after a while, the familiar sound of the train connecting one city to the next.

Edward would order large bowls of spaghetti for me wherever we went, as that was my favorite.

I think he quite enjoyed watching me eat.

Edward was by my side in the evenings, but I spent my days with Giovanni.

The ride from the train station to the home was long and difficult, the roads winding and bumpy, at certain times, even steep. A tiny lamp illuminated a small portion of the dusty road, and I couldn't see beyond it. I shifted into Edward's arms, too tired from looking into the darkness.

Finally, we came to our new home in the south, a place called Thornfield Hall in New Orleans, renamed after Edward's manse in England.

It took years to build, and the previous owner faced bankruptcy.

The man had barely moved in by the time the sale was made to Edward for a good sum.

He promised I would love it, although he hadn't seen it himself before our arrival except in the details provided to him by an agent.

He nudged me awake as the carriage pulled into a private driveway and whispered in my ear. "We're home, Catherine."

I looked up as we passed under a canopy of giant oak trees, standing at attention now that their master had arrived home.

Thornfield was large and beautiful, well kept, unlike now.

The previous owner had numerous servants to care for the property, but Edward had reduced the number to the fewest necessary.

The home was not as large as our previous one, but I could tell it would be a happier place.

Even in the darkness, I could make out the stark whiteness of the home and columns against the black shutters.

The veranda stretched from one side to the other, and Edward reported that it went around the house and that I could do what I liked there.

"Will we stay here long?" I asked.

“Yes, until you've grown into a fine young lady and find yourself a handsome man to marry," he said.

The carriage stopped. Edward stepped down, turned to me and scooped me into his arms, swinging me high into the air and then down to the ground.

The large door looked heavy, but he easily opened it.

We entered into a well-lit entrance, and I remembered an aroma from the moment I entered the house—a bouquet of cut flowers had been placed on a table, the flowers an array of magnolia and cherry blossoms, Louisiana irises and Angel's Trumpets.

Those were my favorite, but they were dumped in the trash once our housekeeper realized they had been brought into the house by accident; they were poisonous if ingested and a threat to a small child such as myself.

These walls became our home, filled with joyful parties and people.

Edward hated it all, but he did it for me, to introduce me to society so that I would be accepted.

Days were filled with learning French, piano, dance, painting, and literature, but Edward became a little disappointed in me, saying I could do better.

Now, I will admit to being a bit lazy as a child, and he was correct in believing I could have done better.

Still, I was happy and cared for and loved by my guardian.

Thornfield was a happier place back then, but it was all about to change.