Page 30 of Fragile Wicked Things

Fifteen

T he following night, I waited for James by Boré's tomb as he had asked.

It was smaller than I expected for the first mayor of New Orleans; the wrought iron fence rusted, and I ran my fingers along the metal cross built into the gate.

A couple strolled by. The woman, dressed in black, leaned against the man, his arm around her in a silent comfort.

When they passed me, I felt relieved not to be alone, and I watched them walk away and turn a corner, and then they were gone.

A slight wind blew up the bottom of my skirt, swept dirt across the pathway and swirled debris into a corner against another tombstone.

Death surrounded me. How moronic a place to meet someone, given my fear, and I wondered why I had ever agreed to such a thing.

A twig cracked under the weight of someone's foot, but I still played with the cross, pretending not to know James stood behind me until I felt him brush the back of my dress, and I turned around in a hurry. I let out a pretend scream.

"Naughty boy. You frightened me," I said, my head down, my lips pouting.

"Did I really scare you?" There was a hint of excitement to his question.

It was the first time I had snuck off to meet a boy, the first time I had lied to Edward.

I said I was invited to join a New Orleans Women’s Auxiliary branch, a younger group that encouraged charity work.

I even made up a name for the charity, but later, I realized my mistake.

What if Edward looked into it and found no such charity existed?

And then there was poor Giovanni who had to take me into the city.

At least I was able to convince him to return home, saying I was certain to get a ride from one of the other members.

I’d waited until he rode off before I ducked away.

Any amount of guilt I felt was pushed aside the moment I saw James under the light of that full moon.

My, he was handsome and to think he had chosen me of all the young girls at the ball.

James pulled a flower from his inside pocket, and offered it to me and I took it, twirling it in my fingers while we walked along the path.

He pointed to various tombstones, giving me a history lesson with each one, entertaining me with elaborate stories that I didn't think were truthful.

James teased me, enraptured me, whispered in my ear with talk of things I knew nothing about, and by the time we reached the outskirts of the cemetery on Basin Street, we were on to world affairs and philosophy.

He would confuse me, have me question my fundamental beliefs and see the world in a different light.

Each outing with James grew more difficult to arrange than the last and I ran out of excuses, oh, but what pleasure it was to see him, to be wooed by him, to become one and experience what it felt to be loved.

During public events, James would slip love notes and I hid them in my sleeve to open later.

I received dozens of them, at the museum, at the teahouse and once he even slipped me a love note while I attended a function held by the New Orleans Women's Auxiliary.

I snuck into the ladies' room, sat in a chair by the window and unfolded his letter. James’s words poured out while I read; I could hear him whisper that he desired me, loved me, that all the gods transpired for us to be together as man and wife.

The secrecy continued for several weeks.

Guilt has a funny way of catching up, and I knew the courtship was a betrayal to Edward.

Eventually, I made James promise to go to Edward to ask for my hand in marriage, if indeed that was what he desired.

I refused to see him again until he fulfilled his promise.

When the post arrived, I snatched the letters from Giovanni and flipped through them searching for James’s handwriting.

Each day led to disappointment and I thought myself a fool for being too earnest and pushing James away.

My heart broke to the point that when the post did arrive, I no longer grabbed the letters from Giovanni and moped about the house all day.

Sprawled atop the sofa in the drawing room, I swung my foot in the air as it hung over the edge and stared out the window, fingering the fringes on the drape.

Giovanni startled me when he cleared his throat, letting me know of his presence.

He laid the post down on a small table and walked away, closing the door behind him.

My heart raced. My thoughts were all jumbled.

Once I could stand it no longer, I went to pick up the letters, flipping through them until I found James’s handwriting.

First, I covered the envelope in kisses, then embraced it and, when that wasn't enough, I jumped up and down.

"Tonight. Edward will read the letter tonight."

Edward read the post in the evenings after he'd awoken and so I placed the letters on a small table by the fireside where he liked to sit. James’s letter sat on top, then I thought better of it and placed it in the middle.

Later in the day, I returned to the letters and fanned them out on a silver tray.

It seemed too obvious a display and I shuffled the letters about, eyes closed, then placed them back down, not knowing where James’s letter lay in the pile.

Later that evening, I played with my food at the dining table. I picked it up with my fork, pushed it aside, grabbed bread, and picked at it until I had a mound of crumbs on my plate.

"Catherine, you're not eating," Edward said

"I'm not hungry. Let's go into the drawing room and sit by the fire."

"I'm not finished, and we have dessert tonight. A special treat. You don't seem excited."

"I'm sorry. It's my stomach."

"Is it upset? Would you rather go to bed?"

"No! I'm fine." I couldn't well tell him the problem with my stomach was the butterflies fluttering around. I said, "You received a few letters today."

"I doubt there's anything of interest. Another dinner invitation to another dull evening with…who will it be this time? Mr. and Mrs. Lovell and their unmarried daughters? Or perhaps the Callahans?"

"Don't you wish to marry?"

He put his fork down and almost in a whisper said, "I have all I need. Catherine, I..."

"I'm cold," I said, shivering for effect. I didn't want to speak about the Lovells or the Callahans and wanted to move into the drawing room.

"Let's sit near the fire," he said.

Edward placed his napkin on the table and escorted me to the next room.

I sat on the settee as he prepared the fire and had it roaring in a short time, but when he sat in the chair by the table, he didn't notice the letters, preoccupied by the flames from the hearth.

If I mentioned the letters one more time, I feared he'd know I was up to something. I pulled at a tassel on the pillow next to me, unthreading it from its seam and wrapped it around my finger. Finally, Edward sighed, then reached for the letters, and read the first one and then the second. Was it James’s letter?

"This is a surprise."

It was his letter!

"It is from neither the Lovells nor the Callahans, but the Logans. It appears their daughter has returned from a year-long trip to Europe and they wish to have us for dinner to welcome her back. Do we know of any black magic that can cast a spell to disarm these matchmakers?" Edward said.

It became unbearable. I had already picked apart one tassel, then moved on to the next, biting my lip throughout the ordeal.

The final letter was in his hands. Edward looked at the envelope, knitted his eyebrows as he looked at the return address, and glanced up at me.

He tore open the envelope, unfolded the paper, and while he read, his demeanor changed.

Sitting forward, Edward grew stiffer, then his hands went limp, and the letter fell to the floor.

"Is there something wrong?" I said.

This shook him from his silence and I could see he tried hard to restrain himself. "No. I must go somewhere tonight."

"I'll have Giovanni bring around the carriage."

I jumped up to get Giovanni, for the quicker Edward took to the carriage and was on his way, the closer I was to becoming James’s wife. However, when I looked back before leaving the room, I saw Edward crumple the letter and toss it into the fire.

Two hours had passed since Edward set off in the carriage to see James. Although I had been very clear with James that he should visit Edward at Thornfield to properly ask for my hand in marriage, he didn't like to be told what to do and must have asked Edward to meet at his home.

I couldn't sit still, so I walked for miles within the confines of my room, from the bed to the window, from the fire to my writing table.

For brief moments, I would sit and compose a love letter to my dear, sweet husband, but I thought better of it so that I didn't in some way cast bad luck on my future.

The front door slammed shut, and then somewhere glass smashed. I ran down the steps to the drawing room, where I found Edward standing near the blazing fire. The remnants of a Scotch bottle were scattered at the foot of the mantle.

"Edward? What is it?"

He remained motionless.

"Edward?"

Something had gone terribly wrong, and for the first time, I realized there was a possibility that Edward could have said no.

Nonsense. Edward would say yes just to please me, as he had done since he first cared for me, providing me with whatever my heart desired.

My heart desired nothing more than to be with James.

"Catherine, we're leaving New Orleans." He paced the floor, not once looking at me. "We'll go back to Europe."

"Leave this place? This is our home. Our friends are here and people we…love are here."

"I do not ask for your opinion. We leave at once."

"No! I won't go with you. What has happened? Where did you go tonight?"

"It does not concern you."