Catherine chose her words carefully now, describing her experiences that day in the best possible light, leaving out her negative feelings about her response to the men at the shelter, and having to wash her hands after holding little Mary. She felt a warmth in her chest when she brought up the child, though, and couldn’t contain her pleasure over such a simple activity.
“I never imagined how comforting it would be to hold a baby. She was so warm and soft, and she kept pulling my hair.”
She knew she was smiling but couldn’t help herself. Sarah’s mouth was open in a small O before Catherine watched her break into a smile of her own.
“May I go to visit Josie’s mother, too? I’ve never held a baby before either. I’ve never even thought of doing such a thing. We don’t see many of them, do we?”
Their mother fixed them both with a level stare and shifted in her seat before speaking. Catherine worried that she might have said something wrong, or had been too animated in her speech. Maybe it was silly, to be excited over a baby. She supposed that Mrs. Warren, who tended them every day, lost her interest now and again, but no, she seemed perfectly engaged, as if the little girl was already an interesting person of her own and deserved the attention she was getting.
“That will end soon enough, Sarah.”
Catherine hadn’t thought that her father was paying attention, but now his head snapped up and he squinted at his wife, who tilted her own head towards him. Oh, no, Catherine worried. She knows about Josie. She hoped her mother wouldn’t say anything to her father or to Sarah. It was really Arthur and Josie’s good news to share
“Whatever do you mean, Mother? Do you mean I can visit Mrs. Warren? Do you think she would mind, since Catherine went?”
“Please cease your chatter, Sarah. You must learn to curb your speech or your marital prospects will be affected. No man wants a wife who doesn’t know when to stop talking.”
Catherine watched her father hold back a smile and bit her lip to hold back her own.
“A wife? What does that have to do with anything?”
Catherine shook her head at Sarah but her sister kept talking, which Catherine knew would only make things worse for her.
“All the boys I know like it when I talk, and besides, I don’t want to get married yet. And you still haven’t said if I can go see the babies yet.”
“Sarah Grace Davenport!”
Catherine sat back against the back of the chair, hard, but watched as Sarah didn’t even flinch, although tears had formed in her eyes. Sarah stood up, nearly knocking her chair backwards, and stalked off without a word, Her maid, Becky, appeared suddenly as if she had been waiting in a dark corner, and followed Sarah quietly.
“Well, while I don’t approve of her behavior the least bit, this does leave us with the privacy we require to discuss an important matter with you, Catherine.”
Catherine snapped her head back to her mother as Sarah disappeared from the room. A part of her wanted to follow, partly because she was concerned about her sister and partly because she was concerned about herself and what her mother had to say. She reached up to push a strand of hair from her face. Annie had fixed her hair when she had returned from her excursion with Josie earlier, pulling the stray lock that Mary had tugged on back into the tight knot against the nape of her neck, but another piece had come loose. The gesture seemed to annoy her mother.
“Annie needs to take more care with your hair, I see. Perhaps it is time for someone new to attend you.”
Catherine knew that Annie was close by, waiting to follow her when she left the room just as Becky had followed Sarah.
“Oh, no, she’s fine. I would never want anyone else.”
Her mother looked at her father, who spoke to Catherine directly for the first time that day.
“We have found an appropriate husband for you, one who had a fine reputation as a young man of character as well as quite possibly the best family name we could hope for.”
Catherine blinked. It was nothing more than she should have expected, really, but knowing that her parents were no longer thinking of her marital prospects and had one specific man in mind made her stomach churn. Maybe they should have told her this before she had eaten.
“Well, I thought you might show a little more interest in your future husband, but regardless, you’ll be pleased to know that he is cousin to one of your friends, and may prove amenable to your tendency to read too much.”
If she became sick in front of her parents, her mother would strangle her right here over the remnants of their dinner.
“Oh, come now. You’re not a little girl anymore. I think you’ve spent too much time carrying on today, especially in matters that may be a bit delicate for a young lady. You’ll need to toughen up a bit to prepare for your role as a wife and mother.”
Catherine dared a glance at her father, who was looking at her mother disinterestedly. Didn’t he care how she felt, or if she even wanted to be married? It certainly wasn’t customary for fathers to worry over their daughter’s preferences when it came to a husband, but in light of Arthur’s incredibly non-traditional choice of a wife, she hoped that just perhaps . . .
“You’ll be a Vanderbilt, just imagine. It isn’t as if they are truly any better than we are, but just think, your children will be Vanderbilts.”
“Please,” she managed to squeak before her mother could continue, but the older woman didn’t seem to notice.
“And your father, of course, has known his father for many years, and the young man is very handsome, which should please you, and you will want for nothing, just as you are accustomed.”
The room was suddenly quiet. Catherine looked from her father to her mother, their eyes watching her for the positive response they wanted. She had always done as she was told, whether she wanted to or not, and it was always easier to go along with what her mother directed. She would never steer Catherine or Sarah wrong, at least not on purpose, Catherine thought, and she knew she couldn’t live with her parents forever. Or even for too long in the foreseeable future, honestly. It just wouldn’t do to remain unmarried into her twenties, or after Sarah wed. Oh my goodness, she worried, what were they going to do with Sarah next? Sarah would never agree to marry a man she didn’t want, especially one meant to keep her in line.
“Catherine, I hope you realize that we are only doing what we believe is best for you and your future. You’ve been quite sheltered and it might be difficult to accept that it is time to grow up now. Your mother has made arrangements for the two of you to begin plans for the ceremony, and I’ve given her carte blanche, as always, to give you the wedding she, or rather, you deserve.”
He cleared his throat as Catherine noticed her mother staring at him. Apparently her mother didn’t expect so many words out of her father’s mouth on this occasion.
“I would never choose a man who wasn’t worthy of you, Catherine, or who would not treat you well.”
Catherine opened her mouth, unsure of exactly what she was going to say, but just as her father began to speak again, she pushed away from the table and stood, much as Sarah had done such a short time ago.
“No.”
She couldn’t believe her own ears, but she had said it, out loud. Her father’s dark eyes were large, and he blinked as he looked up at her, but her mother’s voice, cold and distant, interrupted their silent stare.
“I won’t have this, not from the both of you. Now, Sarah, I expect to some extent, but Catherine, don’t think for a moment that . . .”
“Quiet, wife.”
Her mother huffed and shifted in her seat as Catherine swallowed, attempting to gather her thoughts and composure.
“I don’t believe that I’ve seen you assert yourself, child. Ever. This is most interesting, although troublesome. We’ve made arrangements with the young man’s parents already.”
Now that Catherine was standing, her skin chilled at the sense of exposure she felt as her parents looked at her. Her father seemed thoug
htful, but her mother looked as if she might condescend to spank her if she had her way.
“What do you suggest we do?”
Now that the question was presented to her, Catherine wasn’t sure. She most likely knew the boy, and didn’t wish him any harm or embarrassment. Did he want to marry a girl he didn’t love, or did he care at all?
“Think on this, and your mother and I will talk it over.”
“What? What do mean, we will talk it over? The very idea!”
When her mother stood suddenly and stomped from the room, Catherine watched her, noting the similarity to Sarah’s own tantrum. Her father surprised her again with a short laugh.
“There may be a few things yet for you to learn before you’re wed, especially as the world seems to be changing. I would feel better knowing that you had a firmer grasp on the realities of life outside of these walls and the few miles in which you’ve been raised before you become mistress of your own home. This doesn’t mean you won’t wed the Vanderbilt boy, but perhaps there are other factors to consider.”
Catherine set her palms on the table on leaned on them, her eyes on her father.
“Other factors?”
“Is there a boy we don’t know about? A secret affair that you wish to continue?”
She pushed away, pulling both her hands into fists and holding them close against her chest.
“Absolutely not. I would never . . .”
“Well, that makes it a bit easier. I think we’ve had enough of such romantic notions with your brother. Not that I am not fond of Josie, of course. She has a good heart, that one, and has been a good influence on your brother.”
It was true, and it was also true that Josie had found her way into her father-in-law’s affections without even trying. Catherine knew that when her father found out that Josie was going to give him a grandchild, he would adore her even more.
“Run along, then. No use beating a dead horse, especially without your mother in the room to snap the whip.”
Catherine almost smiled at her father’s attempt at humor as she turned away, catching Annie’s eye as her maid peeked around the corner and offered Catherine an empathetic smile.
Chapter Eight
Will woke with a jolt, and squeezed his eyes shut tightly before opening them. He didn’t remember where he had fallen asleep, and was certain that he didn’t want to be reminded.
It was a dark room, quite possibly the waiting area of a hotel, judging from the height of the ceiling. He held back a moan, or at least he thought he did. His head felt as if someone were squeezing it between his hands, if that someone was a circus giant or perhaps even a grizzly bear, if he was going with a circus theme.
Don’t be stupid, he told himself. This is your own fault, and being juvenile about it won’t help.
It was as always, his first thoughts after such a night and the resulting shame of remorse and reprimand. It wouldn’t last long. By this time, he knew that he was going through the motions, but true repentance would involve changing his behavior. That wasn’t going to happen.
“Can I bring you something, sir? A glass of water, perhaps?”
Will lifted his head from the polished wood table, rubbing at his numb cheek, and smiled as he thought a gentleman should.
“That sounds perfect.”
He didn’t wait for a response. His head throbbed too much to hold it up any longer. He should be worried about how to get home without his uncle finding out that he had been drinking, again, with God only knew who and where. It didn’t matter anymore, though, not with his inheritance lost along with his father. He knew he had been spoiled his entire life, and that others lived with so much less, but he didn’t know how to do it. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted to sleep, but even then he had no peace. His nightmares were filled with the sounds of his father’s sobbing, the crash of plates and glass as his only living parent seemed to lose his mind, dashing whatever he could grab to vent his disappointment, frustration, and fear over losing nearly his entire fortune in such a short time.
Will was nearly twenty years old, but when the image of his mother, sweet-smelling and smiling from his childhood memories, began to swim before his eyes, he couldn’t keep the tears from falling, and he tucked his head into his folded arms on the table and cried, not caring what the young man bringing him a glass of water would think when he returned to find him in a puddle of his own tears.
“I must say that I don’t agree with this at all, but your father insists. It isn’t a proper place for a young unmarried lady to spend her time, but I’m sure your father knows best.”
Catherine’s mother spoke quickly, her head held high.
“Wear the plainest dress you have. I’ve already spoken to Annie about it, so she will know how best to prepare you for your day.”
The older woman shook her head briskly.
“Oh, I don’t know what he’s thinking. Honestly, I didn’t even like the idea of you visiting the place with Josie. She is better suited to such work, I’m certain, but she really shouldn’t subject herself to those people now.”
“Mother . . .”
“Don’t interrupt. Listen to me carefully. You are not to speak to anyone there, and if you must, and only then, speak only to women and children. Do not look at the men or interact with them. If you do, and anyone finds out, it might jeopardize your marriage plans.”
My marriage plans? Catherine thought, frowning. They were her mother’s plans, not hers.
“At least we are in agreement there.”
Catherine was confused for a moment, then realized that her distaste was visible in her expression. This was all very confusing. She had only just finished her breakfast, one that involved Sarah complaining, for the most part, and then her mother assailed her, dismissing a livid Sarah and jumping into an explanation of how Catherine was to spend the day, or even days, depending on her father’s mandate.
“Arthur has agreed to oversee your visit, although he had made it clear that he is quite busy and may not be able to spend every minute watching over you, so you must be very attentive to your surroundings and your behavior.”
“But Mother . . .”
“Why do you insist on interrupting me? You may not be a child any longer, but your disrespect is unbecoming. I will always be your mother, and you should remember that when I’m speaking to you.”
Why couldn’t she be like Mrs. Warren? Catherine wondered, doing her best to stand straight rather than let her shoulders droop. Her mother wouldn’t let poor posture escape her notice, especially in her mood.
“I just don’t understand. I’m not trying to be impolite, I just want to know why I’m being sent to work at the shelter, and what I’m supposed to do while I’m there.”
Her mother brushed a non-existent stray hair from the side of her head. Catherine couldn’t remember a time when her mother was untidy, her hair out of place or a step out of line. She remembered something her father had said long ago about her mother’s maid.
“Didn’t Lillian grow up with you?”
That wasn’t the best way to get an answer to her question about the shelter, and her mother wouldn’t be pleased that she had no only spoken her thoughts aloud but also that she was asking about her mother’s personal business, which she had been told long ago was not her own. Lillian had been her mother’s maid for Catherine’s entire life, and she and her mother were very close. She knew every aspect of her mother’s preferences, whether it was in dress or hairstyle, food and drink or sleeping habits. Catherine knew that this was not usual among their set, and maids were often dismissed for a variety of reasons, some of which involved nothing more than a desire for a change on the part of their employer, or a small mishap like bringing a breakfast tray in a few moments late on a day the mistress was in a bad mood. Where did those maids go, then, once relieved of their post? Come to think of it, Catherine didn’t know what had happened when her mother had told Josie she was no longer wanted in the house, when she found her t
alking with Arthur. She had never asked her new sister-in-law what it was like to lose her employment. It wasn’t a situation Catherine would ever experience herself, so she hadn’t been able to consider the fate of others who did.
“That’s quite a personal question.”
Catherine was drawn from her distressing thoughts by her mother’s statement and braced herself for the coming admonition.
“If you must know, yes.”
Her mother turned away and Catherine was struck by her mother’s response as well as the look on her face as she spoke, her eyes moving away from Catherine as if she was uncomfortable looking at her directly while she shared the information. The late morning sun struck the wrought iron design that detailed the high windows, and as her mother took slow, careful strides towards them, Catherine could see the few strands of white that hid within the coils of her mother’s hair. Genevieve de Vries had been, and was still, beautiful, but it was difficult for Catherine to picture her mother as a young woman like herself, and even harder to see her as a child with a little girl beside her as her attendant. When Catherine and Sarah were little, sometimes they would overhear their father speaking to their mother, calling her ‘Jenny’ and talking quietly with her. They had wondered who Jenny was, and their governess had laughed at their lack of understanding.
“Why, that’s your mother’s nickname. But you mustn’t ever use it. It’s something private between the two of them. Very sweet, if you ask me, but no one does.”
Catherine couldn’t remember the name of that governess. Now that she thought of her, she couldn’t recall the circumstances under which she had left. She hoped it was the young woman’s own wish to leave, and that Catherine herself, or Sarah, hadn’t done anything to cause her to lose her place with them.
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