"Hush," he said tenderly. "There's no need to talk. There's no need to cry, either. I've purchased two passages on the boat leaving for New Orleans at six o'clock in the morning. I've got a buggy waiting for us on the road beyond the woods. Kirkwood loaned it to me."
He removed his fingers from over her mouth and brushed away her tears. Looking down at her, eyes aglow with love, he folded her against him once more.
"We'll be married as soon as we get to New Orleans. I'll find some kind of work. It—the going may be a bit rough at first, but we'll survive. I can't give you luxury, Meg, but I can give you such love, such love—"
Meg sobbed, resting her head on his shoulder, and James held her fast, stroking her hair. Both of them seemed to have forgotten my presence, but I didn't mind. Seeing them together like that was deeply moving, and it was painful as well, for their closeness, their joy made the emptiness inside me seem all the more difficult to endure. I had deliberately dismissed love from my life, and now I realized that life without that vibrant, exultant emotion was hardly worth living. I thought of Derek again, and the sense of loss was like a sharp stab in my heart.
"We'd better go now," James said quietly.
"Yes. I never want to see this place again."
"You'd better take your bag," I said.
"Marietta!" Meg exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I forgot—"
"I understand, dear."
James took the bag. "I don't know how to thank you," he said.
"No thanks are necessary," I replied. "Just remember what I told you this afternoon."
He nodded curtly, and I handed the case to Meg.
"What's this?" she asked, bewildered.
"When you get to New Orleans, I want you to sell these. There's a man named Dawson. He's a crook, but he'll give you as much as anyone if you're firm and don't let him bully you."
"I don't understand." She paused, her eyes widening. "Marietta—surely not your diamond and emerald—"
"I want you and James to have them," I said firmly. "It's—it's the least I can do."
"But they're worth—"
"I don't intend to argue, Meg. Consider them a dowry. With what you'll get for them the two of you can go anywhere you like. James can open some kind of business. I'll feel so much better knowing you're provided for."
"Marietta—"
She flew into my arms, hugging me ecstatically. The moonlight was radiant, and I could see her face clearly. She was smiling, and her eyes were filled with happiness. For the first time I realized that Meg was a beautiful girl. Love had made her beautiful. With James at her side, she would be able to forget all that had gone before. I kissed her cheek, and she hugged me one more time.
"Goodbye, dear," I whispered.
"You—you'll be all right?"
"I'll be all right," I promised.
James took her hand, drawing her away, and the two of them moved toward the woods. At the very edge, just before they disappeared into the shadows, Meg turned to wave. I waved back, and then they were swallowed up in darkness. I turned and walked slowly back toward the house, exhausted now, so exhausted I could hardly move. Meg and her stalwart young lover were on their way to a happy ending, and I thought about another couple I had sent away under similar circumstances. Where were Cassie and Adam now? I felt certain they were happy, for they had each other.
And I had no one. I was quite good at helping others find happiness, it seemed, yet I had been a dismal failure at finding it for myself. I felt weak and defenseless, filled with a sadness that was almost unbearable. Moving through moonlight and shadow, passing the marble fountain with its jets of water dancing in the night, I wondered what I had done wrong. I had loved so fully, so fervently, and it had led only to grief. Once I was free of Helmut, I would try to build a new life... Once more I would try. That was all I could do.
I entered the house and moved slowly down the hall and up the stairs, passing through darkness without apprehension now. Meg was safe, and that was all that mattered. Reaching my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment. I was far too exhausted to undress just yet. Moving across the room, I sat down in the large chair. After I rested for a little while perhaps I would feel like preparing for bed. I was going to need all my strength in the morning when Helmut discovered that Meg was gone, but I wouldn't think about that now. I closed my eyes. I was tired, so very tired...
When I opened my eyes, the room was filled with dazzling sunlight. I sat up, startled, not knowing where I was for a moment, and then I realized that I must have fallen asleep almost as soon as I sat down last night. I stood up. My brocade gown was rumpled, my hair falling loose. I glanced at the clock. It was after nine. A sudden movement behind me made me turn.
The door was open. Helmut stood just inside the room, his face chalk white, his eyes ablaze.
"She's gone," he said.
"Her bed hasn't been slept in."
He moved further into the room and closed the door.
"Where is she?"
I didn't answer. He moved slowly toward me, exuding a controlled menace that was far more terrifying than explosive rage. I had never seen him so tight, so steely. Every muscle in his body was taut. I stepped back, knocking against the chair.
"Where is she?" he repeated.
"She's with James Norman."
"You helped her."
I nodded, trying to fight back the panic. He stopped a few feet away, breathing heavily now, his hands balled into tight fists. His eyes were flashing with blue fire. My heart began to beat rapidly.
"Helmut, she told me everything. Meg told me what you were doing to her. Yes, I helped her. I planned everything myself. I even gave her the jewels so she and James could sell them."
"You're going to pay for this," he said.
"I think not," I replied. My voice was steady now. "I think you're the one who's going to pay. There are laws against what you did, and all I need do is go to the authorities."
He lifted one brow. The rage still burned in his eyes, but there was a perverse amusement as well, and something I could only identify as anticipation.
"My dear Marietta, do you really think I'd give you the opportunity?"
"Keep away from me, Helmut."
He smiled, sensing my terror, thriving on it.
"What you did to that poor girl is—unspeakable." I said, my voice rising in fear." If I reported it you would be ruined, imprisoned. I—I want my freedom, Helmut. Our marriage must be annulled, and you will settle a sum of money on me—a very large sum. I'll leave Natchez—"
"So brave," he said. "So defiant. It's going to be a pleasure to crush you."
He swung his arm back, then brought it forward in one quick movement. I saw the tight fist coming toward my jaw, and then there was a crushing impact and an explosion of shattering pain. I fell, crashing to the floor. I went spinning through a void of black and bright orange fires, screaming silently as the pain burned through my whole body, and then, crumpled on the floor, I opened my eyes, unable to focus properly. I saw Helmut through a filmy blur, saw him looming there with fists at his side, saw those blazing, murderous blue eyes.
"You're going to pay for this," he repeated. "Yes, indeed. You're going to pay. Before I'm through with you, my dear, you're going to wish you'd never been born!"
CHAPTER 32
I was dimly aware of the pain and, as I struggled up through layers of darkness, it grew worse. My jaw seemed to be on fire, and there was a terrible ache in my side where Helmut had kicked me. I moaned, and the darkness finally parted. Opening my eyes, I found myself on top of the bed, still wearing the yellow brocade gown. A lamp was burning. It was dark outside. Had one whole day already gone by?
I felt disembodied, groggy, and nothing seemed real but the pain. I remembered Helmut seizing my hair and pulling me to my feet, and then he had slapped my face repeatedly, his eyes gleaming with pleasure, a smile twisting on his lips. When he finally let go of me, I crumpled to the floor again, and he kicke
d me viciously. He must have carried me to the bed afterwards, for I couldn't possibly have made it on my own. What time was it? I tried to see the clock, but it was impossible to focus. I tried to sit up. That was impossible, too. I fell back against the pillows, and darkness claimed me once more.
"You must drink," she said nervously, holding the glass to my lips.
"No," I murmured. "No, don't—please—"
Lelia stood beside the bed, her eyes wide with terror. She seemed to materialize out of fog. I took the glass and drank thirstily, vaguely aware that the room was filled with sunlight, aware that the pain in my jaw was not nearly so bad now, the pain in my side almost gone. I was ravenously hungry.
"Can—can you sit up?" she asked.
I nodded, but it took great effort to raise myself. Every bone in my body felt bruised. Lelia helped me struggle into a sitting position, and I leaned back against the headboard as she placed the tray over my knees. She had brought a bowl of hot soup, slices of buttered bread, some cheese. My hands trembled as I ate, and I sank back into unconsciousness almost as soon as she took the tray away.
When I awoke it was to find the lamp burning once again, darkness pressing against the windows. I was hungry again, terribly hungry. I managed to get off the bed. My legs trembled as I moved across the room to the elegant blue and white screen. Behind it stood a table holding a ewer, a chamber pot, a basin of water. After I had performed my ablutions I was so weak I could hardly make it to the door leading into the hall. The door was locked. The door leading into the sitting room was locked, too.
I was a prisoner.
Waves of dizziness swept over me. My head seemed to spin. Afraid I was going to faint, I moved quickly back to the bed, collapsing immediately, trying not to panic. He was deranged. Right and wrong simply failed to exist for him. What a fool I had been to believe I could hold him off by threatening to go to the authorities. I should have fled with James and Meg. It was too late now. He was holding me prisoner, and I knew the worst was yet to come. He had some diabolical revenge in mind, or else he would have killed me already. I must escape, I thought. I must... And then the swirling black clouds enveloped me and I went spinning into oblivion.
A bird was warbling throatily, and I awoke with a start. It was daylight again. My head was clear. Although I still felt bruised and sore, most of the pain was gone. I realized that two days must have passed. Meg and James would be in New Orleans now, already married, beginning their life together. I had saved Meg, and now I must save myself.
I got off the bed and moved behind the screen once more, and a few minutes later I sat down in front of the mirror. I wanted to hurl myself against the door and bang on it with my fists and scream. Instead, I began to brush my hair, slowly, forcing back the hysteria that could only make things worse.
There was a bruise on my jaw, but it had already begun to fade. Thank God he hadn't broken it. My side still ached, not painfully. The beating had been brutal, but he had restrained himself. He could have killed me, but he hadn't. He had something else in mind. I was sure of that. I finished brushing my hair, and then I made up my face, applying coral to my lips, soft-blue-gray shadow to my eyes, covering the bruise with powder. It was a foolish thing to do, but it helped.
I removed the brocade gown and hung it up in the wardrobe. I was still in my petticoat when a key turned in the lock and Helmut stepped into the room with a small tray.
"Good morning," he said. "I've brought you some coffee and a sweet roll."
"Thoughtful of you," I replied.
"Oh, I've no intentions of letting you starve, my dear."
"Where is Lelia?"
"Lelia has gone to the plantation, as have all the other servants except my coachman. I won't be needing any of them for a while, and I don't want them around."
"You don't want witnesses," I said.
He ignored my comment, setting the tray on the bedside table. "You look remarkably fit this morning. Feeling better?"
"You're not going to get away with this, Helmut."
"You mustn't let your imagination run away with you, my dear. Here I am, kind and attentive, inquiring about your health. I've even brought you your breakfast. What more could a wife ask?"
"What do you plan to do?"
He lifted a brow. "Do? I have a number of things in mind, but I haven't decided yet. I want to arrange something very special for you."
I took a dressing robe from the wardrobe and slipped it on, tying the sash securely at the waist. Helmut watched me with gleaming blue eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up. I forced myself to remain calm. I knew he wanted me to cringe and plead, and that was a satisfaction I had no intention of providing him.
"You must eat your breakfast," he said. "You need to build up your strength. I've a feeling you're going to need it."
"Do you plan to beat me again?"
"That was really rather thoughtless of me. I'm afraid I lost control. Oh, by the way, I brought you a news sheet that arrived yesterday from New Orleans. Rather uninteresting as a whole, but there was an advertisement I thought you might like to see."
"Oh?"
"A request for any information concerning Miss Marietta Danver, late of Rawlins Place. The man who placed it offered a substantial reward to anyone who could help him locate said Miss Danver."
I was startled, only half believing him.
"It seems you moved in very exalted circles at one time," he continued, watching me closely. "The man who placed the advertisement is apparently an English aristocrat. Lord something-or-other, he signed himself. Oh, yes, now I remember. Lord Derek Hawke."
I could feel the color leaving my face. My body seemed to go limp. I caught hold of the wardrobe.
"Someone you know?" Helmut inquired.
I didn't reply. I couldn't. Helmut shook his head in mock sadness.
"I'm afraid the chap is out of luck," he told me. "Even if by some wild chance he manages to track you down, it's highly unlikely you'll be around to greet him with open arms."
He smiled, blue eyes alight with pleasure, and then he sauntered out of the room, locking the door behind him. I stepped over to the bedside table and picked up the news sheet he had left folded on the tray. I sat down on the bed, trembling inside, my hands shaking as I turned the pages searching for the advertisement. There it was, just as he had said. Derek was in New Orleans. He was looking for me. That could only mean... The paper rattled as I gripped it tightly. I put it down, awash with emotions I could no longer control. I cried.
I cried for a long time, giving in to all of the feelings that overwhelmed me—panic and fear, wild elation that Derek had come, crushing despair that he had come too late, remorse and recrimination that I had ever married Helmut in the first place. Finally, when all the tumult was spent, when the last tear had slipped down my cheek, I felt better. I was glad that I had broken down, for now that I had given some release to my emotions I could concentrate on escape. I took several deep breaths and looked around.
There was no way I could get out of the room. The windows were unlocked, but it was a sheer drop to the ground far below. In my weakened state, I would probably break my neck if I tried to tie bedsheets together and climb down. Both doors were securely locked, impossible to open. I could not overcome Helmut physically, but if I used my head, if I remained calm, I was bound to find an opportunity to escape. Above all, I must put on a bold front. I must not let Helmut suspect my fear.
The hands crept slowly around the clock and the hours passed. Roseclay was silent, and even thought it was warm outside, the walls seemed to emanate an icy chill. Twelve o'clock, one, two, and he did not come with food, and I began to grow weak with hunger. I drank water from the pitcher behind the screen, thankful I hadn't used it all. Three o'clock, four, five. I paced the room, fearing that if I stretched out on the bed lethargy and despair would claim me. Shadows began to lengthen across the floor at six, and the sky was a darker blue, the sunlight paling.
At six-thirty he unlocked
the door and came inside. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and I could smell the liquor on his breath. He brought no tray.
"Hungry, my dear?"
I refused to reply. He smiled.
"I'd like to oblige, but the cook left, too, with Lelia and the rest. I'm afraid you'll have to do without for a while longer."
"I can manage."
"So very heroic," he remarked. "Still haughty and proud, full of disdain. We'll soon mend that. We're going to take a little trip together tonight, my dear."
"Indeed?"
He stepped over to the wardrobe and began to examine my dresses. He had left the bedroom door unlocked. I looked at it and then looked at his back, but Helmut turned around.
"I shouldn't, my dear. I'd have to come after you, and I'd catch you, and I would be very, very angry. You know what I'm like when I'm angry. I might really hurt you the next time."
"And you'd enjoy it immensely."
"Mustn't get too cheeky, my dear. I'm in a very mellow mood, but I wouldn't go too far if I were you." He turned back to the wardrobe, going through the dresses, discarding first one, then another. "Ah, yes, this should do nicely. Tonight shall be very special, and I want you to look your best."
He pulled the dress down and flung it onto the bed. "Tart yourself up a bit, my dear. Use some more of your paint. I'll be back in an hour or so. I trust you'll be ready."
"Where are we going?"
"That needn't concern you now," he replied.
He left the room again, turning the key loudly in the lock. I was upset and apprehensive, just as he had planned, but I was optimistic as well. Once I was out of this room and away from Roseclay there was bound to be some opportunity to escape. I refused to speculate about our destination. That could only make things worse. Obviously we would be with other people or else he wouldn't want me to wear such an elaborate dress.
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