by Dana Roquet
***
Desiree fought her way from unconsciousness hearing Bridgett’s voice, frantic and sobbing. She tried to open her eyes and reassure her but the front hall of the Colter’s home spun before her and she had to close her eyes once more, covering them with a hand.
“Bridgett I am fine.” she whispered as she felt strong arms carrying her up the staircase.
Bridgett touched Desiree’s cheek and then rushed ahead of Stephen opening doors for him as he carried her through the sitting room to her bedroom. Bridgett pulled back the covers and Stephen lay Desiree down gently, placing her head upon a mountain of pillows. Desiree moaned softly as her battered and bruised body was released and she looked up to find Stephen’s face above her.
He stepped back and Bridgett moved beside her, pressing a cool cloth to her brow, “Desiree we were so worried.” she sobbed, gently using another cloth to remove dried blood from her lip and then laying the cloth against Desiree’s cheek and the puffy blue bruise there.
Desiree looked from Bridgett, to Tim at the foot of the bed, to Stephen behind Bridgett and she covered her face with her hands, sobbing in relief and in terror as the images still filled her mind. “Bridgett he—he was going to kill me.” She sobbed and her voice sounded strange in her own ears. She was close to hysteria and as she lowered her hands from her face and looked at the expressions of those in the room, she could see that they heard it also.
“Shhh…” Stephen said gently, kneeling beside the bed, “Don’t think about it. It’s over now.”
“No! No it is never going to be over!” Desiree shouted, “It goes on and on, when will I ever be safe?”
Stephen looked up at Tim and then to the door where his parents stood silently watching.
“Desiree we will leave you to Bridgett’s care now and talk later.” he decided, fearing his words would only inflame her further, he squeezed her hand and ushered his family from her room.
Bridgett’s tears had subsided when Desiree’s had begun, her concern for Desiree’s state of mind putting her own fears in proper perspective. Bridgett brought a gown to the bed and helped Desiree to sit, slipping Tim’s coat off and then the shredded dress. She pulled the nightgown down over her head and stuck her arms through the sleeves while Desiree sobbed weakly. Desiree’s arms were limp and uncooperative. She was seemingly unaware that she was being dressed.
“Desiree you are in shock love, you will feel better after some rest.” Bridgett soothed over Desiree’s sobs. She poured a glass of water from the pitcher at the night stand and offered it. Desiree first sipped and then gulped at the cool liquid and lie back as Bridgett replaced the cloth against her cheek. Desiree grabbed her hand in a desperate hold and Bridgett sat down beside her, patting her grasping hand reassuringly.
“Bridgett” Desiree croaked, “I—I want to go home—please? Let’s go home.”
Bridgett made no comment and Desiree continued frantically, “I can’t stand to be here any longer! I have to go—I must. Please! Make the arrangements! Let’s go right away! I—I want to see France…my friends. Oh I want to go home!” she sobbed as if a small child unable to find her way.
Bridgett knew only too well the pain Desiree had suffered since their arrival here and before, ever since they had left France six months ago. She had endured so much.
“It could be dangerous.” She reminded softly.
Desiree laughed hysterically, “I don’t care! I want to go! I want the people I love about me—I want Rene’ and Antoine…please Bridgett?”
“And what of Stephen Colter?” Bridgett whispered.
Desiree shook her head, “It is over—over! Please let’s not speak of him. Just agree! Help me Bridgett please—help me!” she pleaded.
“Yes it shall be so. Don’t worry sweet, I shall make all the arrangements. Just rest now. Get some sleep and leave it all to me. We shall go home.”
Bridgett pulled the covers up about Desiree and she smiled up at her through her tears, “Thank you Bridgett.” She said as her exhaustion overtook her and she closed her eyes.
Chapter Forty-One
Desiree tossed and turned, unable to find rest and after several hours of wasted effort, she rose from bed and donned her robe, moving silently about her chambers. The large floor clock in the hall chimed the fifth hour of the day but she could have guessed as much by the birds singing of the approaching dawn and the grayish sky to the east. She was anxious about the decision she had made and would be carrying out in but a few short hours—to anxious to sleep.
She walked quietly from her rooms and moved down the stairs to the front hall, entering the drawing room. She took a seat upon the sofa, facing the large portrait of the Colter family and in the dim light, she studied Stephen’s likeness, then looked to each of the members of his family and she allowed thoughts and feelings to possess her that she had held in check for days.
A tear slipped down her cheek with the thought that she would be boarding a ship for home in a few short hours, leaving behind Stephen and his world and going back to her own small part of the world she called home. It had been six days since Stephen had stormed through the jungle and saved her from certain death and five days since his departure to escort the man Kirwood to the magistrate in Saint George. She had not seen Stephen before he left but Tim had explained that Stephen had wanted to oversee the transportation of the man to be sure he was locked safely away. He would be back in five to seven days and this being the fifth; she was on edge, fearing he would arrive home before she was well on her way to France. She would not draw an easy breath until she was aboard and away. She knew he would not stop her once she was out to sea and she prayed for this morning to pass quickly.
She admitted to herself now that her mind had been made up since the night of the party, when she had walked down the covered path—she must go. Not a word had been mentioned of the occurrence at the party or the reason for her foolish flight into the jungle but the injuries that Stephen and Timothy had dealt one another were noticeable and would have drawn questions from, at least, their parents and of course Vanessa Haines was well aware of the situation and no doubt ecstatic with the result of her lies.
Desiree lay her head back against the sofa wearily, trying to remember when it had all gone so wrong. Perhaps it had never really been right. Maybe she simply imagined that she had ever shared the tender moments with Stephen she recalled. Everything had gone sour—vile and sordid—to the point of no return. Stephen brought out the worst in her. The slightest urging and she would forget all but her need to bring him pain and cut him to the quick with her razor sharp tongue. He too had acquired a remarkable talent for that.
Never had she treated a person with such little regard as she had treated him, almost from the day she met him. Why did she find it so impossible to speak simply and truthfully to him? She spouted half truths and blatant lies as though second nature to her and could not seem to stop herself.
She heard only what she wanted to hear, picking and choosing what she wanted to believe and calling most of his words lies. She had believed Bridgett’s opinion of him even though she should have known him and his intent. She believed Vanessa Haines when she had overheard her in the clothier, even though Stephen had sworn to her that he wanted no other—but then he too had believed Vanessa at the party that night and he had set upon her and Tim in murderous rage.
Desiree shook her head as if to clear the jumble of thoughts. She was not rational where he was concerned, nor was he when it came to her and the thought of staying longer and the surety of another conflict coming from some direction brought dread and panic to the surface. No—this was the day of reckoning, an end but also a new beginning for her and she stood from the sofa and with a last look at the portrait, walked from the room and up the stairs.
***
Desiree dashed about her room, packing away her possessions as the morning wore on. She had already said her farewells to the Colter’s before they had left for the day to visit with friends
and she had expressed her thanks for all they had done for her. They had not tried to change her mind but had assured her that she was most welcome to stay on as long as she wished. She had graciously declined their offer.
Bridgett was at the ship, seeing about the storage of their luggage and setting up their homestead in a cabin of the Sea Scout, a vessel similar to the Windward, where Captain Jim Phillips would be at the helm. So—everything was set and now she rushed to finish up her packing and join Bridgett.
A knock on the sitting room door brought Desiree to an abrupt halt and she went to the door of her bedroom, peering out. Timothy smiled sweetly from the hall; then entered her room.
“So,” he began, shoving his hands into his waistcoat pockets and sauntering after her to the door of the bedroom, “I see you have not changed your mind. You are going through with this.” He leaned against the door jam, watching her pack.
“Please Tim. Let’s not spend our last few minutes arguing. I have made my decision and it is final.” Desiree sighed wearily.
Over the past few days he had used every argument he could think of to convince her to stay and work it out. She had not said much except that her mind was set and then he would be forced to give up when she refused to discuss it with him.
“It is not final—how can you say that? You carry my niece or nephew, my own brother’s child—my parents first grandchild for God’s sake! And you have sworn me to secrecy on it! I cannot imagine that you think Stephen would do anything but right by you. I beg you, please tell him. He loves you—I am sure of it!”
Desiree was on edge, her nerves frayed and her patience thin from lack of sleep and her anger flared suddenly. Tim was so certain of Stephen and his nature—so certain that he held some special feeling for her that he kept hidden from view.
“Timothy—let me tell you a few things about your dear brother and myself. You act as though he and I are star-crossed lovers or some such foolishness when in truth I was merely a paying passenger aboard his ship and before I had reached my destination I had lost my innocence to your brother!” Desiree nodded when his eyes widened in disbelief, “It is true! I tried my best that night to bury a knife in his belly but was thwarted. And although I accept some of the responsibility for the occurrence of that night and most of the blame for everything that has happened after that night, the fact remains that it has been constant turmoil ever since.”
Tim moved to a chair and sat down heavily, “I am sorry Desiree. I had no idea.” He said breathlessly, shaking his head.
Desiree pulled a small dressing table chair over beside him and sat down, rushing on, “But I do not want you to think ill of Stephen Tim. After—no even including that first time, I wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. I love him Tim—but we hurt each other at every turn. He accuses me—I accuse him…” She lifted her hands in resignation as tears well up in her eyes. “Tim I am eighteen years old. Until I met Stephen Colter I was innocent of men and the world—and I admit it, I have no idea what I am doing. I was never raised to be a mistress and yet—here I am, a mistress, soon to bear a bastard—become a mother. I ask myself over and over—what should I do—and no answers come. I am simply not able to deal with any of this—so I am running away. Perhaps I am a coward—if so, so be it! I want to go home to Rouen, to the people that I know love me and I want to be coddled and pampered and try to regain some semblance of what I once was. I want to be happy again. This affair with Stephen has been one bitter conflict after another and I cannot take any more. I do not expect you to understand—I don’t understand but the time is now—it must come to an end.”
Desiree clasped his hand in her own, pleading for understanding with her eyes, “Please Tim just let me go and let it end here. I shall leave and Stephen will go back to his life. It shall be best for both of us, I am sure of it.”
Tim nodded and squeezed her hand, “Me and my big mouth. Why didn’t you just tell me it was none of my business?” he frowned, brushing a tear from her cheek.
“I did.” Desiree sniffed softly with a smile.
“Well why don’t I see about your last trunk, while you finish up in here?” he suggested, rising.
“Merci Tim. I would appreciate that.”
Tim heaved the trunk upon his back and Desiree closed the door after him, wiping her tears and clearing away all thought from her mind as she opened a dresser drawer, removing her belongings.
***
Tim stopped upon the stairs when the front door opened and to his surprise Stephen entered, halting and staring up at him with a confused expression.
“What is this? Leaving home Tim?” he chuckled, closing the door and standing his duffel against the wall.
Tim continued to the bottom of the stairs and set the trunk to the floor, “No. Desiree is leaving.” he stated simply.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Stephen snapped.
“She is leaving. She is going home to France.” Tim said with a shrug.
“Damn it—where is she?”
“Upstairs but…” Tim halted his words, deciding to stay out of it and let Desiree give him her reasons, besides Stephen was already up the case, taking the stairs two at a bound. Tim watched him until out of sight and then hurried outside to the waiting carriage and after loading the trunk he returned to wait at the bottom of the steps for Desiree to descend.
***
The door of the sitting room stood ajar and through it stormed Stephen, entering the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He glared at Desiree as she stood to the left of the door at her dressing table packing the last of her toilette articles.
Desiree quaked with fear, looking into his eyes. His expression was withering, accusing and she felt she could nearly faint from the shock of seeing him home, catching her after all.
“So you are back.” She stammered lamely as her voice trembled and her face flushed crimson.
“Is that all you have to say? You’re back.” he snapped furiously, “What the hell are you doing this for? So that madman will have better aim? Use your head Desiree, that man Kirwood was hired in France by a Frenchman, we know at least that much! I realize you have grown tired of me and my hospitality but for your own safety you should reconsider.”
Desiree slammed a drawer shut and glared into his eyes, every bit as furious, all fear forgotten. “My safety depends not upon my location! I am not safe here, nor was I safe in the colonies and I am tired of being ruled by fear. I have worn out my welcome on your island and wish to intrude no more into your life.” She finished, crossing the room and tossing the satchel near the remainder of her packed bags.
“Intrude? Hardly! Almost from the moment we arrived here you began your little game that I have yet to find the purpose of! Accusing me falsely of trifling with your affections and sharing with another; that which I shared with you alone.” He sneered bitterly.
Desiree laughed with disbelief, “You accused me falsely of sharing the same with your own brother—taking the word of that blonde bitch without a thought as to its validity. So in truth we are even Captain Colter!”
Stephen crossed the distance separating them in a flash, his voice coming harsh and biting, “In truth you had but become bored with me isn’t that it? Perhaps given a little more time you would have allowed Timothy to sample that which you had proclaimed to be mine alone to possess while I—fool that I am, can find no ease for my plight.”
“Since I gave freely to you, you assume I would share the same with another so easily? I have learned my lesson! And I care not whom you have or have not treated to your extensive talents. I am leaving this day and that is the end of it!”
“Tell me Desiree—for once put aside your games and tell me the truth—do you hate me? Do you love me? Exactly what do you feel for me?” he hissed.
He was beside himself. He had come back this day determined to make it right between them only to find now that she had planned to be gone by the time he arrived. He wanted just a hint of some care for hi
m but none came. She was cold, hateful—ready to sail away without a thought.
Desiree smiled up at him coldly, knowing too much had passed between them to correct it with a few words. Knowing she must make her break now, in order to end the destructive madness that seemed to be their relationships defining characteristic. She had to keep her secret and wanted to have her child in peace. She didn’t trust him not to hurt her again. She didn’t believe in him anymore. It was too late to do anything but set him free and herself free of him.
“Why Stephen I am surprised you need ask!” she laughed harshly. “Let me see…” she began, moving away from him and pacing across the room as if in thought, then turning back to glare into his eyes, “I set you from me on a whim—and according to your drunken tirade one night I lead you about as my private paramour—no that wasn’t it was it?” She laughed, pointing a finger at him, “My beast! You are my beast and you stop and perform on command! Now tell me Stephen does that sound like the ingredients of love or hate?” She asked.
“Say it!” he barked, crossing the room and towering over her, “I want to hear it from your lips—look me in the eye and tell me that you hate me.”
“Hate you? No—not hate—indifference. I just want to leave here and forget you as though you never existed. Forget all that has passed between us as though we never met. But if this is to be an airing of our feelings—tell me Stephen what exactly do you feel for me? Do you love me? Hate me? Indifference? Or simply lust me?”
He looked deeply into her eyes but spoke no words and Desiree laughed softly, “I am waiting for your answer.”
“This is so very amusing to you—isn’t it my dear? The last of many games we have played, you and I. I must congratulate you, for you are, by far, the champion!”
His eyes were steamy and he reached out, taking her in his arms and pulling her into his embrace. His mouth crushed down upon hers and Desiree pushed weakly against him, totally unprepared for this reaction. His arms came about her waist, pressing her body to his possessively.
