“Whether it was willing or forced, you are still a fallen woman; and remember, if you had not flaunted yourself down at the docks—”
Katherine leaped to her feet. “You’re convicting me on no evidence. How does all Boston know what happened to me—how do you, for that matter? I tell you, and Dr. Rackingham will verify—”
“Really, Katherine, it hardly matters what happened. Just the fact that you were in that beast’s company for so long condemns you.”
“This is outrageous! I will not stand for it.”
“Dearest, please,” Amelia interjected timidly, “Amanda is right. You are in disgrace, child. You cannot go out as you once did. Certainly not to the yards. Or even to the opera or the theater. And, of course, we shan’t be invited to any parties.”
“And you expect me to just fade out of sight like that? Hole up in here with you and never go anywhere? Just sit over my needlework all day or read uplifting novels?” The rage boiled up within her and spilled over. “Well, I’ll be damned if I will! I am not to blame for what happened, and I will not be judged on supposition, either. I intend to readopt my way of life, just as it was! In fact, I think that I shall have a dinner party this very week!”
She stormed out, leaving the two stunned women staring after her.
Almost immediately, she regretted her words. She had absolutely no desire to see anyone, let alone face a whole room full of avid, curious faces. But she had rashly committed herself, and she had to brazen it out.
The thing was a disaster from start to finish. Half the people she invited coldly refused, and the others came out of morbid curiosity. Lillian Stephens was one of those who came, her face full of malicious triumph. Her father, once Katherine’s suitor, assiduously avoided her. The rest conveyed disapproval even as they plied her with questions, all studiously skirting the matter of her downfall.
“How awful for you,” Lillian said, demurely casting down her eyes. “Is that pirate really such a devil as they say?”
“Don’t be silly,” Katherine said calmly, though she felt a sudden stab of pain. Oh, if only Matthew were here, he would—he would what? Why, just put his hand against her arm to support her and look at them with that icy stare, and none of them would dare look at her in that shocked, superior, disapproving, eager way. “He was a perfect gentleman the entire time, even though I was his hostage. Did you not find him an exceptionally courteous man, Dr. Rackingham?”
“Why yes, I did,” the old man lied stoutly, though his eyes twinkled at her in shared mirth. “Gave Miss Devereaux and me the best cabins, while he and his ensign slept with the men.”
“Indeed?” Mary Whitman said slyly. “I had understood that Southern men were really shocking and not at all genteel.”
Katherine was seized with a sudden desire to describe her true adventures, just to see the shock on their faces, but she forced herself to remain calm. “Oh, my goodness, no, where social graces are concerned, I know of no one but the English who can match them.” She suppressed a smile, thinking of the Englishmen she had met! “And I believe he was quite the bravest man I ever met.”
“Why, Katherine,” Lillian said innocently, “you have turned into a Rebel lover.”
“Hardly. I just don’t blind myself to their good points.”
“Absolutely.” Dr. Rackingham jumped in to draw their fire and led into a rambling, boring, fictitious account of their days at sea.
Katherine’s one charge at the bastions of Society finally ended, and she did not try it again. No one called on them or invited them to social gatherings. Her life settled down into a frustrating, boring regimen of idle handwork and socializing with Aunt Amelia. Her father adamantly refused to allow her to return to her work at the shipyards.
“My Lord, Katherine,” he said when she broached the subject, “how can you think I would expose you to danger like that again? I have been consumed with guilt ever since he kidnapped you. If only I hadn’t been so selfish, it would never have happened. But because I needed you there, I let you work, even though I knew I should not have. I certainly shan’t make the same mistake.”
“Good Heavens, Father!” Katherine stared at him. “Surely you can’t believe that there is anyone else capable of doing what Matt—Captain Hampton did. Or rash enough to even try it, for that matter. Besides, the prisoners are not allowed to work there now, so there is no possibility that it could happen again.”
“Katherine, I simply cannot risk it. There are other things that could happen. It simply is not a safe place for a woman. Besides, it was scandalous before, when your name was spotless, but now, with your reputation already so—”
His daughter rose, her voice cold as ice. “Please, Father, you need say no more. I quite understand your desire that I not blacken your name any further. In fact, if you will give me a modest stipend, I shall be happy to change my name and move to another city. Someplace far away, of course—California, say? Or would you prefer I moved to another country? France might accept me, ruined as I am.”
“Katherine, please, there is no need to act like this. I am only thinking of you. It’s your safety and reputation I’m thinking of.”
“Father!” she snapped. “I have been kidnapped, raped, and abused—by more men than Matthew Hampton; I have been in a battle, tended wounded men, and lived through a North Atlantic storm; I have stabbed one man and tried to shoot another. And now you expect me to spend the rest of my life knitting and sewing?” Violently, she stormed out of the room, leaving her father staring after her.
Though she icily avoided her father, he did not give in and permit her to go back to work. Daily she and Pegeen took a brisk walk, but that took up very little of her time. She read a great deal and spent a large amount of time daydreaming. She grew quite tired of knitting mufflers and stockings and monograming handkerchiefs and doing needlepoint. Then she was seized with the idea of making Matthew’s material into dresses. For the first time since she had returned, she enjoyed what she was doing. Eagerly she and Pegeen pored over pattern books and fashion magazines and cut and sewed. The rose pink she turned into a simple day dress with a scoop neck and puffed sleeves, remembering how Matthew had said the little muslin dress had shown off her beautiful chest. The emerald wool they made high-necked and long-sleeved, with a touch of lace at collar and cuffs to soften it. She tried them on and Pegeen declared the dusky pink one lovely and the green one simply elegant. And then they fashioned the gold satin into a lovely ball gown. Katherine knew there was no point; she would never have the chance to wear it, but she didn’t care. She made it to wear for Matthew, not to wear for Boston. The neck was low-cut and square, exposing the elegant column of her neck, the creamy, soft expanse of her chest, the swelling tops of her breasts. The sleeves were narrow and tight and came to a point on her hands, accenting her slender hands and delicate wrists. The skirt belled forth in yards of material. making her waist appear tiny. It was very simple and understated, but suited to her; when she put it on, her hair and eyes and gown all seemed to blaze and shimmer and her skin looked invitingly warm and golden. He knew, she thought, he knew how I would look in this. He saw the beauty in me that no one else ever had. She grimaced; damn him—why did it have to be such a heartless, cold man who saw her beauty?
Carefully she folded her golden gown in tissue paper and stored it away. Her emerald dress was packed away in mothballs to save for winter. But the pink one she wore, much to the disapproval of Aunt Amanda, who pronounced it quite sinful. Katherine, however, was like a child after her first taste of sweets. After all, Boston couldn’t keep her from shopping. She and Pegeen bombarded the stores, buying shoes and cunning hats and gloves and ribbons and hair combs and parasols. Most of all, they bought yards of material and the latest Godey’s. Katherine was not about to entrust herself to the Boston dressmakers. If she was outside the pale, so be it; she would dress just as she pleased. So she and Pegeen made her dresses, their nimble fingers turning out a gold-and-white-striped traveling suit that looke
d good enough to eat, a frosted green morning dress that was scalloped around the bottom so that frothy white lace peeked out, a chocolate brown silk evening gown with a figured brown and tan bodice and a sweeping train, and countless others, all suited to her coloring and style and attributes, without a spinsterish one among them.
Aunt Amanda seemed on the verge of a seizure over Katherine’s buying sprees and the sort of clothes she was making. It was shocking, she declared. She should, by all rights, be meekly hiding her shame, yet here she was out in public, buying positively gaudy clothes, acting not one whit ashamed. She was, in fact, dangerously close to acting like a loose woman. Katherine simply laughed at that and said, “But, Auntie, that’s what I am.”
One afternoon, as Katherine sat in her father’s study, trying to puzzle out a book on naval strategy, the butler entered to tell her that she had a caller.
“A caller?” she repeated, startled.
“Lieutenant Perkins, Miss Katherine.”
“William!” Katherine sprang to her feet, and the book in her lap went tumbling to the floor. “What is he doing here?”
The butler said impassively, “What shall I tell him, miss?”
Katherine recovered herself enough to say, “Show him in, of course. I shall see him in here—and there is no need to inform my aunt that he is here.”
Something close to a smile flickered briefly, but he said only, “Very good, miss.”
Katherine picked up the book and replaced it on the shelf, all the while trying to bring her mind into some sort of order.
“Katherine!” Lieutenant Perkins paused in the doorway, struggling for control.
“William.” She dropped him a nervous little curtsy.
He crossed the room in two strides and took her hand and kissed it tenderly. “Oh, Katherine, my dear, are you all right?”
“Yes, very.” She blushed, confused. “Please sit down, William.”
He sat down, pulling his chair close to hers, and once again took her hand in his.
Katherine smiled at him stiffly. “I thought you were on the blockade.”
“No; we are stationed in New York now. I wrote your father as soon as we docked, inquiring about you, and he telegraphed me that you were home and safe. So as soon as I could finagle a pass, I caught a train up here.”
Katherine looked at him and then back at her hands. “William, you must know that I have to call off our engagement.”
“What? Katherine, don’t be silly.”
“I am afraid I am quite a scandal,” she said lightly.
“You cannot think I care about that! Katherine, my only concern is that you are safe and well. Why, I could kill that scoundrel with my bare hands, if he weren’t already dead, but—”
“Dead?” she echoed, stunned. “Hampton is dead?”
He shrugged. “He suddenly disappeared about a month or so ago in England. No one seems to know for sure, but the word is that he killed a nobleman in a duel and that he was wounded in the arm. Then the arm got infected, and the last anyone heard he was in London on the verge of death, and then he simply dropped out of sight. The Rebels say he has gone home, but they are just trying to conceal his death, because he hasn’t attacked a single ship or put into port anywhere. And his ship, the Susan Harper, left England under a new skipper. When we put into port and heard that he had died and there was no mention of you, I wrote your father immediately to see if he had heard from you.”
Her head whirled; she felt dazed, as if all the air had been knocked out of her. Dead? Matthew could not be dead. Blindly, she groped for something to catch hold of in what he had said.
“He killed a nobleman?”
“No one knows for sure. They say he dueled some baron in Liverpool.”
“Liverpool?” Her heart began to thud heavily. “Why?”
“Something unsavory about a girl in a—” he blushed, “the kind of place a lady wouldn’t know about.”
That meant a brothel. He had killed a Liverpool nobleman over a girl in a brothel. Not her baron, surely. Dear God, if he had been killed because of that maniac’s abusing her! Dear God, if he was dead! I will die, she thought numbly, I will die.
“Katherine, don’t look like that. It was stupid of me to even mention his name. Just put him out of your mind completely. Forget about all that has happened. I shall make it up to you, I swear.”
“No. William, please, I cannot discuss it now.” She could feel the tears forming behind her eyes, the hysterical sobs welling up in her throat. “Come back tomorrow, if you must have an explanation, but right now I—” Suddenly she darted from the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.
William stared at the empty doorway in surprise. Poor Katherine. Why had he been such a fool as to even mention Hampton’s name? He should have realized the horrifying memories it would dredge up for her. Poor, dear girl.
Matthew dead! The words pounded in her brain. All the unhappiness she had felt before seemed as nothing compared to this deep pain slashing through her. He could not be dead; she could not live if he was dead. She sat numbly on the side of her bed, staring at nothing. Her first, violent storm of tears was over, and now, spent, she had to face the fact of his death, bring her spinning world into some kind of order. Perhaps—there was always the hope that he wasn’t dead. William had not known for a fact that he was dead; it was only surmise. For a moment she clung to that bright hope, then sternly put it away from her. No, it was better go to ahead and accept it now. He had been on the edge of death and then disappeared. What other explanation could there be? If Matthew were alive, he would have sailed on the Susan Harper or some new ship. If he were alive, he would be out there fighting. There was no escaping it: Matthew was dead.
She rose and went to the window to stare out into the black night. Oh, why had she not stayed with him, accepted his reluctant offer of a mock marriage? Perhaps she could have saved him somehow, nursed him day and night as she had during his fever. Or maybe even kept him from the duel. Oh, God, if that duel had been because of her; if that baron was her tormentor—she leaned her forehead against the window, the tears streaming down her face again.
“Miss Katherine?” Pegeen entered the room to help her undress. Her manner was excited. “They said Lieutenant Perkins had come to call on you. Isn’t it grand his being here? Oh, miss, whatever is the matter? You have been crying.”
Katherine attempted a smile. “It is nothing, Pegeen.”
“He didn’t say anything to upset you, did he?”
“Oh, no, Lieutenant Perkins is kindness itself. I am afraid it is I who must hurt him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I cannot marry him.”
“Why ever not, mum?”
“Oh, Pegeen, I would make him a wretched wife. I could not give him any love; I have nothing left in me to give.”
“Sure, now, and that’s a wild way to talk,” Pegeen said, her brogue thickening in her excitement.
“No, it is true. Oh, Pegeen, can’t you see? I love Matthew Hampton!”
The maid sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
“And now—he’s dead.” Katherine’s voice broke, and the tears began to flow again. “Matthew is dead!”
“Oh, Miss Katherine.” Pegeen enfolded her in a warm hug. “Oh, whatever shall we do?”
“I haven’t even—oh, damn, I’m not even carrying his child! I have nothing of him, absolutely nothing. Peggy, I can’t go on; I cannot face life knowing he is nowhere in this world.”
“Oh, Miss Katherine.” Pegeen’s ready tears mingled with her mistress’s, and the two girls clung to each other, sobbing.
How horribly ironic it was that his death had made her realize she loved him. For she knew at last, too late, that she loved him, that all her hatred and fighting had been but pretense. She had simply been too scared and stubborn to acknowledge it.
She remembered his face, the slow, sardonic smile, the way his eyebrows lifted in amusement, his long-lashed gray eyes, sometimes the
cold gray of steel, other times the stormy gray of the Atlantic, or now and then lit by the fires of desire or anger. She remembered his soft, velvety drawl, with the hint of iron beneath; his lean, hard body, the firm grip of his fingers under her arm as they strolled the deck, the comforting strength of his arms around her as he carried her away from Pearl’s. And she cried for him and all the joy that might have been hers, had she not thrown it away.
Katherine managed to face her family the next morning, her eyes red-rimmed from tears and a sleepless night. It was more difficult to keep her composure that evening before William’s loving concern. Katherine nervously twisted his ring and observed irrelevantly that she must have lost weight, for his ring was loose on her finger. Taking a deep breath, she plunged in, “William, you are a wonderful man, and very honorable, too, to still want me to marry you. But you must see that it’s impossible.”
“No, I do not see.”
“William, please don’t make this any more difficult,” she whispered.
“Katherine, I love you.”
“You are such a fine man, and you would be a kind and devoted husband, I’m sure, but I cannot marry you. It would be so unfair to you—no, let me finish. My reputation is ruined.” She smiled mirthlessly. “I’m a fallen woman.”
“Do you think I care about that? It was not your fault what that blackguard did to you. Katherine, I want to take care of you, make you forget what happened.”
“But the world would—”
“The devil take the world! We need not live in Boston. We could live in New York, or anyplace where ships sail. We can start a brand-new life; no one would know.”
“We would know. I would feel guilty all the rest of our lives. It is not just that I am—stained. I would make you an awful wife. I could never give you anything; I am drained of all emotion. I don’t think that I shall ever be able to feel anything for anyone again. And it would be so unfair to shackle you with a wife like that. You will get over this hurt, and then you can find yourself another girl, one who will love you and be a proper wife for you.”
Gregory, Lisa Page 29
