And with that parting shot Daniel took himself out the door.
33
Somehow the men must have learned of Daniel’s defection, and told John and Davey as well, because not a word was said that night at supper about the empty place at table. Now that her temper was cooling, Caroline’s heart gave a little twinge every time she glanced at Matt, hoping—hoping—what? That he would apologize? Not likely! Whatever he had meant to say to her earlier he had apparently thought better of, because he was almost totally silent. His black scowls cast enough of a damper over the family so that, immediately after supper was over and their schoolwork done, the boys went to bed and Robert and Thomas retired to smoke out of doors.
Left alone with Matt, who ignored her as he scratched at some figures in a place he had cleared with his arm at the table, Caroline decided to abandon both him and the bucketful of dirty trenchers. She turned her back on Matt—who, if appearances were any indication, didn’t even notice—picked up Millicent, went into her chamber, and shut the door very definitely behind her.
But it was earlier than her usual time to retire, and she was not about to let Matt Mathieson force her into lying sleepless in her bed when she had no wish to do so! Instead she decided to turn out her trunks, which were still lined up against the wall opposite the bed where they had been ever since she moved into the keeping room. From the time of her arrival she had been so busy caring for the men that she’d had little time to give to her own needs. Now she would pass a pleasant hour going through the relics of her past, and if the trenchers congealed in the meantime, then that was just too bad! If Matt wanted clean eating utensils, then he could just wash them himself.
As Millicent curled up, purring, in the center of the bed, Caroline settled herself on the wide plank floor, her movements cautious because of the slight soreness that lingered between her thighs. Although she had scrubbed away every lingering trace of him, even washing the gown she had worn the night before and pegging it out to dry, she could not erase the tenderness that reminded her of what had occurred every time she made an unwary move. While no longer technically virgin, her body was as unused to such experiences as a new bride’s. His taking had left its mark on her body as surely as his anger afterward had marked her heart. Would she ever understand men? Caroline wondered with a fresh burst of fury. Then, deliberately, she banished the entire incomprehensible sex, and most particularly Matt, from her mind.
One trunk held what was left of her English dresses, the ones in the vivid shades that she had no use for here and had stored away when she turned herself into a Puritan. Which she had done purely to please Matt, as she knew she would admit if she were being honest with herself and permitting herself to think of him, neither of which she was, at the moment. A notion occurred to her and she gave the trunk a thoughtful eye—perhaps she could revert to her previous style of dressing just to irk him. There he was again, devil take him! Couldn’t she keep him out of her mind? But she reminded herself that such behavior would be childish and undignified and would provoke comment among all those who saw her. Her quarrel was with Matt, drat him, alone, and she would keep it as private as she could. Already too many—if one counted four brothers, for she was sure Daniel would soon, if he had not already, confide in James, who would then certainly tell his wife—knew too much about a matter that concerned no one but the two most nearly involved!
Deliberately she shifted her attention to the second trunk, which contained what was left of her medicines, several books, and her personal papers. Nothing much of interest there, and she turned away from it in short order. She was left with the third trunk. It held her father’s possessions and a few of his old clothes.
Caroline knelt beside this last for a long time before she found the courage to open the lid. The scent that assailed her as soon as she did so brought back her father as vividly as if he stood before her, his lean frame immaculately dressed as always, his black head cocked to one side, his tawny eyes alight with amusement as they had been during almost every phase of his life. Even as he lay dying he’d been able to laugh. It was she, caring for him, who had lost her capacity for joy. As the memories, some sweet, some bitter, flooded back, Caroline flinched as if from a blow and closed her eyes. It was a long time before she opened them again and with a tentative finger touched the lapel of the uppermost coat.
It was of rich bottle-green satin—no sober crow’s plumage for Marcellus Wetherby—and her father had worn it often when he sat down to an evening of gaming. He had liked for Caroline to wear her peacock-blue silk when she accompanied him while he had on the coat—she possessed the gown yet—and had been smug about how well they looked together, dressed in this fashion. He’d wager what money they had—if they had any—or his lucky brooch if they had none (fortunately, as Elizabeth had told Matt, he almost always won) and they would stay at an inn of the highest caliber when he was flush, or of lower grade when he was not, but always there had been grand schemes and visions of a more prosperous tomorrow.
Her father had been a great one for generating grand schemes and visions. Caroline smiled sadly, remembering the number of times he promised to give her the world on a plate. The promises were empty, of course, but he believed them when he made them, and before she came to know him just that little bit too well, Caroline believed them too.
He was vastly unlike Matt. Her father had been mercurial, gay, determined to live for the moment. The only truly good thing she knew of him was that after her mother’s death, he had come for her and kept her with him, never leaving her behind as, what with his nature, it had surely occurred to him to do. Of course, her looks had made her an asset to a man in his profession, but he had loved her in his fashion. In the years before his death they’d grown close. The ache of missing him came on her sharply now, as she had never let it do before.
Matt, on the other hand, was as solid and dependable as New England granite. For all his faults—and she would be the first to enumerate them, and call them many—he was the rock to which his family, and she herself, clung. In times of sorrow or trouble he would be a bulwark. For all his testiness, the man was as gentle as he was strong.
How could she love, so greatly, two such very disparate men?
Near the bottom of the trunk, tucked deep into a corner, a gleam of ruby red caught the candlelight and her eye. Her father’s lucky brooch. Caroline drew it out and held it in her hand. It was a pretty thing, even to one who knew it for a fake, the vivid colors bright and twinkling and ready to fool the unwary. It had been her father’s talisman—and the instrument that had brought her to Matt.
Her hand closed over it with convulsive tightness. As it did so, she almost seemed to see her father shimmering elusively just beyond the pool of candlelight; she almost thought she heard his voice bidding her to be happy. The illusion vanished even as she stared at it, of course, but the sweet hurt of it lingered and she shut her lids against the pain. Hot tears welled into her eyes, overflowing at the corners. But with the tears also came a sense of release.
All these months after his death, she was finally allowing herself to grieve for her father and let him go. Perhaps, soon, she could let go of the rest of her past, too, and put behind her the bitter memories that lay like a dark cloud over her new life.
At that moment the door to her room opened with no warning at all. Caroline’s lids flew up, and she stared in affront at Matt, who stood on the threshold, one hand on the jamb and the other on the open door. So he had told Daniel to go ahead and make her an offer, had he? On top of everything else he had done, that was the proverbial straw that threatened to break the camel’s back. Hoping that the small circle of candlelight was not enough to reveal the tears that his intrusion froze on her cheeks, she glared at him ferociously. He was scarcely more than a large, dark shadow himself, as the only illumination behind him appeared to be the minimal glow of the banked kitchen fire. His eyes glittered at her, bright blue even in the gloom, and his very stance told her that his purpose i
n entering was not to apologize.
“I told you when I first arrived that I expected to be treated with respect, did I not? Barging into my room without so much as the courtesy of knocking is scarcely my idea of respect.” She spoke first, her tone icy.
“As this is my house, I scarcely consider myself to have barged in. In fact, I’ll enter any room I like, anytime I like.”
“You’ll not enter my chamber without permission.”
“Will I not? And how will you keep me from it, pray?”
“I will leave this house, if necessary.” This was pure bravado, uttered on the spur of the moment. Of course she had not the slightest intention of leaving, and if he had been thinking rationally he must have known it. But apparently at the moment his thought processes were no clearer than hers.
“And just how will you do that? You are penniless, if I recall.” His eyes lighted on the brooch she still held in her hand. “If you have any idea of using that piece of junk to trick some poor fool into helping you run away from here, I’d advise you to put it from your mind. Until your debt to me is paid in full, I’ll seek you out wherever you go.”
This growling speech banished Caroline’s tears and brought her surging to her feet. She had dressed for bed as soon as she’d entered her chamber, and she wore not even her wrapper, only her white lawn nightdress, with her hair hanging over one shoulder in a thick braid tied at the end with a blue ribbon. Her feet were bare, and her breasts moved freely beneath the fabric that was thin enough to reveal just the barest hint of the dark circles surrounding her nipples and the triangular shadow at the apex of her thighs. Matt’s eyes moved over her, narrowing even as the gleam in them grew almost savage. His mouth set into a hard, straight line.
“Get out of my room!” Her voice was low but raging. Her hand closed so tightly over the brooch that it cut into her fingers.
“Did you hear what I said? ’Twill avail you nothing to try to run away.”
“Get out of my room or I’ll scream!”
“Will you now?” But the threat of rousing his sons and brothers was a telling one, Caroline knew. Matt would be loath to make them—especially the children —privy to their private war. The only difficulty, she realized, was that she was equally reluctant to reveal so much and would be hard put to it to scream, knowing they were all so close.
“I will.”
Her gaze met his with a hard brightness to match his own. Her chin was up, her stance belligerent. Matt might bully everyone else in the household, but he was not going to bully her!
“You were not so eager to be rid of me last night.” There was a mocking undertone to his words that brought hot color rushing to her cheeks. How dare he remind her of that! She was suddenly fiercely glad that Daniel had blackened Matt’s eye for him. Had he not, she would have been tempted to try to do so herself!
“Last night I had no notion what a complete jackass you are!”
His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared, but if she succeeded in angering him, that was the only sign of it he gave.
“Your gentility is slipping, I believe,” he said in a drawling tone that affected her temper like flame to a fuse. Her teeth clamped together, her spine stiffened, and her eyes shot golden bullets of fire at him.
“Get out of here,” she hissed at him. When still he stood there unmoving, the very curl of his lips taunting her to be rid of him if she could, she drew back her arm and hurled the object around which her fingers curled—the brooch—at him as hard as she could. It should have hit him in the face, but at the last second he sprang aside, one hand shooting up to catch it in midair. He was inside her room now, making it seem ridiculously tiny as it was already crowded with her small bed and belongings, the washstand, and the kitchen supplies that were kept in there for lack of another place to put them. Caroline was reminded of how very big he was. He turned the brooch over in his hand, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and examining it with an expression of cold distaste. As the candlelight filtered through the faux gems, the spread tail of the peacock glowed with jewel colors: bright ruby red and sapphire blue and emerald green.
“What trash,” Matt said between his teeth. Before Caroline had the slightest inkling of what he meant to do, he dropped it on the floor and ground it beneath his heel. The crunching sound that ensued reverberated through the air with the power of a gunshot.
“No! Don’t!” Caroline rushed toward him, shoving him aside, but the damage had already been done. The dainty thing had proved itself no more than glass, and it lay crushed in colored shards with only a portion of the peacock’s head still intact. Caroline stared down at it, feeling a hideous lump rise in her throat. Dropping to her knees, she gathered up what was left, cupping the jagged bits and pieces in her hands.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” she said on a deep, throbbing note. Lifting her head, she fixed him with a look of glittering hate. His eyes were unreadable as they met hers, but a tiny muscle jumped once at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and she laughed, the sound bitter.
He opened his mouth as if to say more, and then, abruptly, he shut it again. Lips compressed, fists clenched at his sides, he turned on his heel and left her alone.
34
The next day was market day. Caroline arose, prepared breakfast—though had it not been for Davey and John, she could have been boiled in oil before she cooked a thing—and got five Mathiesons out of the house without uttering more than a very few necessary words. And these she addressed to the boys. To Robert and Thomas she said nothing, because they were Matt’s brothers, and to Matt she absolutely refused to speak. Like her, he was ominously silent. The animosity that lay between the pair of them was so blatant as to be almost tangible, and it was with an air of pardoned souls escaping purgatory that the innocent parties fled the house. Following his brothers out the door, Matt paused on the threshold and turned his head as if he wanted to say something to her. But apparently one look at her face was enough to dissuade him. Wisely, he went off to do his work without putting the degree of her rage to the test.
’Twas Indian summer now, and it was hot. All through the morning, as she did the chores that had to be done before she could go to town, Caroline was conscious of the heat. By the time she dropped the men’s luncheon off in the west field—she literally dropped it, after a halloo to let Robert and Thomas know that she was there—she was of two minds whether or not to forgo the weekly trip to market. But the prospect of a visit with Mary was pleasant—although doubtless the other woman would be agog to know the details of what was going on between her and Daniel and Matt—and anyway she was restless. So Caroline put her basket over her arm, picked up the musket that she always carried with her outside the house since seeing the savage at the window, and set forth to Saybrook.
Squealing pigs were being herded along the road toward her as Caroline walked along. She surmised that they had been purchased by their herders—two youths and an older man who could have been their father—at market. Smiling a greeting at them, she carefully skirted the jostling animals, who stirred up so much dust that she coughed and choked, waving her hand in a vain attempt to dissipate it. A few minutes later the postrider galloped past, a thin youth on a sturdy spotted pony. He left a trail of dust in his wake too. Caroline found herself engulfed by a swirling golden cloud and resigned herself to it. There would be no surcease from dust on such a hot, dry day.
Grit seemed to have been shaken over her like powdered sugar over a cake by the time she reached town, and Caroline brushed her hands over her hair and shook her heavy skirts vigorously before she stopped at James’s house. Mary greeted her with a cup of tea and a knowing smile, and before Caroline knew it she found herself seated at the kitchen table opposite her friend answering questions.
“Daniel actually proposed marriage? And you turned him down? And he came to us over that?” Mary sounded incredulous as she sipped her tea. In the corner Hope played with a cloth poppet that Ma
ry had made for her, and both women sent her fond glances from time to time.
“Is that not what he told you?” Caroline parried, though without much hope. Mary was as inquisitive as a sparrow, and Caroline had little doubt that her friend would get the whole—no, not the whole, but something close to it—story out of her before she was permitted to leave her house.
“Daniel hasn’t told me anything, though he may have said something to James. He no sooner showed up on my doorstep than James was asked by the selectmen to fetch a physician back from New London—you did know that the constable’s wife and three others are down with a terrible sickness? No? Well, they are, and it is widely believed that Mr. Williams’s very commendable skills are not sufficient in this case—and Daniel offered to go with him. I had not even time to question James, though I was dying to ask him how Daniel came by the bruises on his face.” Mary paused, eyeing Caroline expectantly. When Caroline looked down at her teacup, and over at Hope, and then everywhere but at her friend, Mary snorted. The indelicate sound, coming from proper Mary, made Caroline look swiftly up. From the triumph on Mary’s face, she deduced that that was precisely what the sound had been intended to do.
“Oh, all right.” Sighing, Caroline gave in. “Daniel had a—disagreement—with Matt.”
“A disagreement?” Mary’s eyes widened. “Do you mean a fight? Over you?”
Glumly Caroline nodded.
“But how wonderful!” Mary exclaimed, grinning.
“How can you say that?”
“It does sound dreadful, does it not?” Mary chuckled. “But my dearest wish has been to see Matt happily married. He’s had such a bad time, and he is such a dear man. James loves him, and so do I. He deserves some happiness after all he’s been through. And you—you’re perfect for him! I wonder that I did not see it before! But I kept thinking of you for Daniel, and that quite blinded me to other possibilities.”
This Side of Heaven Page 25
