Jade didn’t want to take Lita, but she didn’t relish the idea of traveling alone, so she reluctantly agreed. Jade felt the reason Bryan pushed Lita to go places with her was so Lita could report to him everything that went on. Well, riding her bicycle was the one newfound freedom Jade intended to preserve at all costs…without scrutiny.
The Hayes mansion was situated on a high bluff about three miles north of the Stevens estate. It was three stories, built of stone, with a sweeping veranda fronting the road and the river. Manicured evergreens lined the wide driveway, and on each side were apple orchards. On one side was a large garden, complete with shrubs artistically and dramatically trimmed to resemble animal shapes, fountains, and several goldfish ponds. It was here that for lunch Saturday, white-linen covered tables had been arranged so guests could feast on poached fish, sliced turkey, roast beef, assorted fresh vegetables, fruits, and endlessly flowing lemonade, as well as champagne and fine wines.
Jade had her carriage driver unload the bicycles at the main road so that she could pedal into the driveway herself. As she approached, guests already gathered saw her and began to cheer and applaud in welcome. When she reached the picnic site, they surrounded her, excited over the planned ride, and she happily saw there were about three-dozen brand-new bicycles leaning against trees, shrubs, marble benches, or just gingerly placed upon the grass.
Cornelia Hayes came over to petulantly declare how disappointed she was that she hadn’t known about the bicycling till it was too late for her to have one sent up from New York. “I’m so jealous, I could die! Everyone is more excited over riding with you than they are about the ball tonight.”
The afternoon was warm, with a buttery-gold sun smiling down from crystal-blue skies, as the riders happily climbed aboard their bicycles and, some wobbling, some falling but getting right back up again, followed Jade from the estate and out onto the country road.
As she led the way, Jade lifted her face to the sweetness of the wind and could not help laughing out loud with sheer happiness. How far she’d come, she thought wistfully, proudly, to arrive at this moment. She had everything a woman could want—a husband who adored her, two beautiful homes, wealth, the respect of everyone who knew her, many friends, and soon, her own dance studio. Why, she thought with a silent shiver of delight, she was really and truly happy! The only reason she had to look over her shoulder was to gaze back at other happy souls following, not to cry over past disappointments! It was a wonderful, wonderful feeling, and she offered a personal prayer of thanksgiving for such a glorious blessing.
They were in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains, and despite their enthusiasm for their new adventure, the riders opted not to strain themselves against the steep roads, so instead they pedaled around the Finger Lakes hill area. Still, the experience proved arduous, and a few began to turn back. But then Mr. Hayes, along with several others who’d been forced to stay behind due to not having a bicycle, arrived amidst cheers in a wagon laden with jugs of cool lemonade, sugar cookies, and sandwiches made from leftover turkey. Even though it hadn’t been so long since lunch, everyone was hungry; few were used to so much exercise at one time.
Several riders begged to ride back on the wagon, abandoning their bicycles to be fetched later by Hayes’ servants. Most, however, like Jade, were having too good a time to give in to fatigue.
Finally, everyone agreed it was time to call it a day and return to make ready for the gala ball that evening. Jade left her machine at the Hayes house and gratefully rode home in the carriage she’d arranged to call for her at an appointed time.
Lita met her at the front door of the mansion, clucking with disapproval to hide her jealousy over having missed the fun. “I can’t believe how late you stayed. You’re going to have to hurry to be ready on time, and look at your hair! Dry as dust after all that wind.”
Jade waved away her comments, headed for the stairs and the master suite that had finally been completed under her direction. It resembled none of Marnia’s original designs.
Lita hovered nearby, prodding her to hurry. She was to be included as a sort of chaperone and was practically shaking with anticipation at an evening among the rich elite of New York and the Hudson River Valley. She’d bought her own gown, even though Jade had kindly offered her one of hers as they were nearly the same size. Lita had declined, wanting something more conservative.
Jade had saved her favorite dress for the ball. It was made of silver satin, with a billowing skirt. It was designed so that when she danced, and the skirt swished about, merely a trace of the pink satin lining could be seen amid the frothy lace petticoats. The bodice dipped low, but not provocatively so, and the sleeves were mere lace ruffles across her shoulders, matching the frilly lace cummerbund that was fashioned with a full bow and streamers at the back. But the beauty of the creation was the exquisite crusting of black pearls and tiny diamonds across the bosom. Worth a fortune, Jade thought it the prettiest dress she’d ever seen, except, of course, for her Russian wedding gown, but now she regarded all those memories as an illusion…and not worth remembering.
There was time to wash her long red hair, allow it to dry on the terrace in the river breeze. Then she fashioned it herself, in sweeping poufs about her face, caught and held in place by diamond brooches, these accented by white pearls.
When they had married, Bryan had given Jade a carved rosewood case, lined in white satin, which contained all the fine jewelry that had belonged to generations of Stevenses women. She knew Marnia had worn some, if not all, of the gems, but told herself it didn’t matter. Marnia was dead—and so were all the other women who’d adorned themselves from the box. For the ball, she chose emerald-and-diamond drop earrings, with matching choker and bracelet.
As she was taking the pieces from the box, she saw a large solitaire diamond ring set with rubies and pearls. She withdrew it, was about to slip it on, then squeezed her eyes shut at the sight of Kitty’s ring on her finger. Despite her happy glow, despite her conviction that the past no longer mattered, she could not, for some unexplained reason, remove that ring from her finger.
She closed the lid on the jewelry, and on pensive reflections.
Even though Lita would be relegated to the sideline with other companions, personal maids, and chaperones of unescorted ladies, she was nonetheless ecstatic and talked incessantly on the short drive to the Hayes estate. Jade was only too happy to have her leave her side to enter by the servants’ entry to the rear, while she was admitted through the main entrance.
Arriving fashionably late, Jade was at once smothered by touring zealots, anxious to either chat about the enjoyable afternoon or ask when the next ride could be scheduled. She found herself somewhat of an unofficial leader of a new club of sorts, and rather enjoyed it. She just wished Bryan were there to see, and hear, so he could catch the cycling fever, too.
The magnificent entrance foyer of the Hayeses’ home was larger than most people’s entire houses. The floors were of imported Italian marble, with huge columns that, for the evening, had been adorned with vines of climbing roses. In the center was a huge fountain from which sparkled the finest champagne. Strawberries, cherries, and blueberries floated amidst the frothing bubbles, and delighted guests gathered around to refill their glasses. Jade helped herself, glad that most of the Hayeses’ friends did not frown on imbibing.
Beyond the foyer was the main ballroom, also with marble floors and columns. An orchestra was situated in front of the open French doors leading to the terrace, so that music could also be heard outside.
The air was heavy with the sweet perfume of the thousands of blossoms that had been imported from all over—gardenias, magnolias, lavender, lilacs, sweet peas, carnations.
Regal ladies in elegant gowns seemed electrified, their spectacular jewelry sparkling and glowing as though given life by the magnificent crystal chandeliers overhead.
The night was dazzling, and Jade wished over and over again that Bryan could have been there to share i
t all with her, for she felt terribly alone despite the genial people about her.
Cornelia Hayes did not merely have platters of food set out in offering as had been done with breakfast and lunch. The evening called for much more fanfare, and she provided it with a signal to the orchestra for a dramatic drum- roll that brought everyone to silent attention. Then a parade of waiters in garish red satin uniforms began to enter the ballroom, each carrying a huge round tray on which the most sumptuous food had been prepared by special chefs hired just for the occasion.
In honor of her guests, and her homeland, Cornelia featured Dutch cuisine: erwtensoep, thick pea soup with spicy sausages; rolpens, a dish of minced beef; hotchpotch, a meat and vegetable stew; as well as smoked eels, fried sole, and Zeeland oysters.
For lighter appetites there was the popular Dutch snack called uitsmijter, an open sandwich with a fried egg on top of cold meat, and a very exotic dish the Dutch people had imported from India called rijsttafel. Twenty waiters were needed to bring out all the side dishes that went with it, such as egg rolls, shrimp, chicken cubes, fried noodles.
To tempt the dessert lovers, delicious Deventer gingerbread was offered, with fruit fritters called poffertjes.
And, of course, in honor of the Dutch people’s favorite food, there was cheese of every kind.
When the fare had been properly assembled, the waiters stood back in one long line and gave a unanimous sweeping bow, and the room vibrated with a thundering wave of approving applause.
After everyone had his fill, Cornelia sought out Jade to ask that she give her waltz lesson.
“If I’m not imposing…” Cornelia said almost apologetically. “I mean, I feel as though you’re the hostess, because you’ve been doing all the entertaining, and I don’t want you to feel put upon.”
Jade laughed and assured her that she was enjoying herself immensely as a guest.
Cornelia led her toward the orchestra. “I’m sure you all know Mrs. Stevens…the newly married Jade O’Bannon Stevens,” she added with a meaningful chuckle.
The air rang with a chorus of approval, and Jade felt a rush of warmth. She was liked. She knew that and was pleased, and not just for the sake of social acceptance. People genuinely seemed to like her for herself since they knew nothing of her background, and this meant a great deal to her.
“…and you all know of her many talents,” Cornelia was saying. “Not only is she teaching us to ride bicycles…” She paused to enjoy the approving laughter. “But she’s also a very wonderful dancer. She’s going to be opening a studio in New York quite soon, but tonight she’s consented to gift us with a display of her skills.”
She gestured to Jade, and again, applause and cheers broke out as she humbly, proudly, stepped forward.
Jade gave the same little explanation of the waltz as she had at the waffle party, then asked for a partner, and for the orchestra to play.
Everyone was in a festive mood, and each time a waltz would end, another gentleman would step forward begging for his turn, while couples joined together to imitate the popular new dance.
Finally, after nearly an hour of constant whirling and swirling about the ballroom floor, Jade maneuvered herself and her partner toward one of the doors to the terrace, so that when the music ended, she was able to say, “Thank you, thank you,” to her partner. “Now please, I must have a moment for fresh air…” and she disappeared into the night to momentary freedom.
The night was warm, and she was tired, and it was so refreshing to walk across the sweeping terrace. She went to the farthest point from the house where the rolling river appeared as liquid silver beneath the moon’s kissing glow.
She’d been alone only a few moments when she heard a man discreetly clearing his throat somewhere nearby, to politely let his presence be known.
She remained perfectly still and did not turn, hoping he would take the hint, but then she heard him speak.
“Mrs. Stevens.”
She cringed, but only slightly. After all, it was a party, and she knew she should be grateful for so much popularity. She turned around with a gay swish of her silver satin skirt. “I hope you aren’t wanting to dance, because I’m so—”
Jade felt as though she’d been struck by lightning. Every nerve in her body was electrified for an instant, then seemed to turn to jelly. Her breath came in quick, ragged gasps as she struggled against the constricting pressure in her chest. She closed her eyes, opened them, knew she was not dreaming.
It was Colt who stood only a few feet away, a strange but warm smile on his handsome face.
He started to come closer but hesitated as he realized she suddenly looked terrified. “Did I startle you, Mrs. Stevens?”
Jade’s eyes narrowed. Why was he being so formal? Very well, she at once decided; if this was the way he wanted to play the occasion of their first encounter, so be it. Tightly, evenly, she bit out her reply. “Yes, you did.”
He cocked his head to one side, puzzled as to why she seemed so angry—defensive, almost. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your dancing. Mrs. Hayes was right. You’re a very talented lady, but I can see you want to be alone. Forgive me for intruding.” His smile faded, and with a curt nod, he turned on his heel and walked back toward the house.
Jade blinked, unable to believe what had happened.
“Coltrane!” She heard a man’s voice amiably call out as he stepped through the door from the terrace. “How’s that new son of yours—and his mother?”
She winced with pain, hearing the ring of pride in Colt’s cheery response. “They’re great. Both of them. Mommy missed not being here tonight, but…” His voice disappeared within the noise and music.
A great shudder spread through Jade, beginning with her toes and moving all the way up, rendering her gratefully numb against the rolling nausea birthing within.
Dear God, she whispered as salty tears trailed down to her trembling lips, how could he pretend not to know her?
That, she acknowledged painfully, was the cruelest blow of all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The rest of the evening ended in a blur. She immediately sought out Lita, complained of a headache, and left the party.
That night, she lay awake unable to sleep, torn between anguish and anger.
She acknowledged that, in the back of her mind, she’d always thought—maybe “feared” was a more apt description—that sooner or later she’d encounter Colt socially. True, he’d never cared for parties and such, but perhaps he’d married a woman who did, and he was associated with a prominent family through his employ—the Vanderbilts. She’d more or less steeled herself for that eventuality; had vowed to be cool, remote, immediately removing herself from the situation without a hint to anyone who might be around as to why the atmosphere was tense. However, she’d never dreamed Colt would just pretend not to know who she was. How could he have been so humiliating? Especially when there had been no one else about at the time? They’d been completely alone on the terrace. They could have talked, settled everything as to the roles they now played in life, agreed on anonymity and mutual behavior on the occasions when they unexpectedly ran into each other. So why had he chosen to hurt her? She’d never done anything to deserve that kind of treatment from him.
When the sun rose, Jade had not slept a wink. A glance in the mirror told her she looked terrible! Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Her skin was sallow, and constant rolling and tumbling in bed had left her hair a tangled mess. With Bryan coming out early, she got up to see what she could do with herself lest he ask questions she didn’t want to answer. She had no intention of telling him she’d seen Colt.
Not yet.
Not until she decided what she was going to do about it.
And the more she thought about what she should do about it, the angrier she got.
How dare he?
So what if he had never loved her as she’d believed? Did he have to twist the knife deeper? Denigrat
e her as he had?
By the time Bryan arrived, just in time for the quiet little lunch she’d planned for the two of them on the veranda, Jade’s mind was made up. She had swallowed against the bitter bile in her throat, had complete control of her anger, frustration, and yes, her pride. There was only one thing to do, one way to handle the situation, and that was head-on.
She was going to find Colt, see him, talk to him, and ask him what the hell was going on!
Bryan never suspected the volcanic turmoil within her, for Jade was able to smile, chat amiably and happily about the weekend thus far. He regretted not having been there earlier, was more than eager to accept the Hayeses’ invitation for the afternoon and evening, and quite willing to leave as soon as they’d finished eating, at Jade’s suggestion.
Jade had plans…plans that made her feel a wee bit guilty because, in a way, she was using Bryan…using him to remind her that she no longer needed Colt, for any reason. She boldly led her husband upstairs to their bedroom, where she easily held him a willing captive for the next several hours as her passion seemed insatiable.
Early the next morning they returned to New York.
When Bryan left for his office—a new one a few blocks away from the building the fire had destroyed—Jade immediately found the address for the Vanderbilt office. It was a long ride from home, situated all the way across town, and it took her nearly an hour to get there by bicycle—the only form of transportation that afforded her absolute freedom from Lita. By the time she arrived, she was exhausted, and sought a bench beneath a shady tree to catch her breath before going into the impressive stone building.
Finally, she made her way in, heart pounding not from the arduous ride but from the apprehension over the impending encounter with a man she once loved but now coldly loathed and resented.
Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 Page 25
