Tempest(44)
“Just set that down by Lady Raveneau, Simon.” Adam gestured with his free hand. Alice hurried straight to his side, tail wagging.
Cathy felt herself coloring anew at the sight of him, and yet she couldn’t help staring. Adam had gone coatless and wore a cream vest over linen trousers, and her favorite tie: dark blue silk with a narrow yellow stripe. It was knotted expertly round a starched white collar that made a perfect foil for his dangerously handsome face.
“Good morning, my lady,” he said softly as he drew up a chair next to Cathy’s.
“Wouldn’t you prefer to sit at the table like the rest of us?” queried Auggie.
“I’m not hungry. I’d simply like to watch Cathy open her gift.”
She tore away the paper and came to a big brown box that smelled faintly of mildew. Blue letters emblazoned on the sides proclaimed: Shepard’s Blizzard Ice Cream Freezer.
“What an unusual gift for a man to give his new bride!” declared Auggie, wrinkling his nose. “Hardly romantic, if you don’t mind me saying so. But then, nothing on this island is what one might expect.”
Feeling everyone’s eyes on her, Cathy put on her brightest smile. “Adam is so creative. He’s just fooling me. There’s no telling what’s really inside this carton!” And, heart pounding, she opened the flaps and looked inside.
“What is it, Catherine?” asked her mother.
“Well, it does look like... an ice cream freezer.”
“I got it at DaCosta’s. I thought—” Adam broke off when he saw that his wife was appalled by his choice. She went from pale uncertainty as she looked at her relatives, to hot-cheeked speechlessness when she turned toward him. Unable to meet his eyes, she mumbled words of thanks and rushed off to the kitchen.
“Perhaps something’s burning,” Auggie suggested archly.
It came to Raveneau that he should have gotten something daringly extravagant and romantic, like diamonds. The ice cream freezer would have been a lighthearted afterthought, if he were the right kind of husband. But of course he wasn’t, and he certainly hadn’t been the day he’d made that purchase.
Standing up, he faced his mother-in-law. “I meant well. I thought we’d make ice cream together on hot afternoons...” The explanation sounded hollow even to his own ears.
“My dear boy, you are speaking to the wrong woman about such rustic pastimes. Don’t you know that someone of Catherine’s background would be insulted by such a present?”
Her tone struck like scalding water, but he took it unflinchingly. “Perhaps you and your daughter have both forgotten that I can’t afford to give jewels. The only money I have to spend has the Parrish name on it.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem using our money to pay off your colored mistress!”
“Mrs. Parrish, for a woman of so-called breeding, you have the manners of—”
Just then, he was interrupted by the sound of male voices singing Christmas carols outside. As they launched into “Silent Night,” Adam called for Cathy. Stepping into the gallery, he had a clear view of the garden where five men stood, singing as loudly as they could. When Cathy came in with Retta, he gave her an impatient glance.
“I had to make you come. They’re scrubbers and they won’t go until they’ve seen the mistress of the house.”
Cathy could scarcely bear to be near Adam. It had been hard enough to look at him after her unbridled abandon the night before, but his unromantic Christmas gift had distanced her even more. “What are scrubbers?” she managed to ask, glancing back hopefully toward Retta.
“Dey sing,” the old woman said derisively, “den make beggin’ speech!”
“It’s an old Bajan Christmas tradition,” Adam added. “They’re hoping for some money and some food.”
“Huh!” Retta snorted. “I go wrap up de food and sorrel for dem.” As she turned to go, she caught Raveneau’s eye and muttered, “Why you don’ give de mis’ress a nice jookin’ board fer Chris’mas?”
“Very amusing.”
Outside, one of the scrubbers had stepped forward to proclaim, “Mistress and Master, I neither come to boast or to brag, nor to tek down de flag! But tellin’ you bout de mornin’ our Lord Savior was born, and wishin’ you a happy Christmas morn.”
Cathy smiled back at them, uncertain whether or not to respond. “Is that all?” she whispered to Adam.
“If only it were,” came his acerbic reply.
They resumed singing, and after a bit the leader exclaimed, “Hark the herald angel sing, Open de larduh and give we somet’ing; Peace on earth an’ mercy mile, Two rums for a man an’ one for a chile!”
Just then, Simon appeared outside with Christmas gifts of coins, a basket of food, and a bottle of red sorrel. Adam led Cathy out the front door to shake hands with the men.
“Take this food and money home to your families,” he said. “And wish them a happy Christmas.”
The quartet broke into one last verse: “Goodbye to the Mistress an’ Master, too. Thank you very much an’ God bless you!”
As they went on their way to the next house down the road, Cathy looked uncertainly up at Adam. “I still don’t understand. Why are they called scrubbers?”
His mind remained on the unfinished argument with Hermione. “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. My grandmother used to say that it must be another butchered Bajan variation on an English word. Since they seem to fancy themselves poets, perhaps they meant to call themselves ‘scribers.’”
“Sir?” Simon spoke up from a few feet away. “Josephine ask you to come to de kitchen an’ see ‘bout Christmas food for de field hands.”
“Certainly.” He turned to Cathy. “I’m glad for the respite from your mother. Will you excuse me for a while?”
“But, shouldn’t I come, too?” Her heart ached as she longed for him to take her hand or show in some way that he didn’t think less of her after last night.
“No, you go back to the dining room and finish exchanging gifts with your relatives. No doubt you’ll receive something that will make up for my offering.”
As she watched Adam stride off into the garden, his wide shoulders set, Cathy felt heartsick.
“Auggie and I have decided to go this afternoon,” Hermione told her daughter. “We’ll pay Theo Harrismith a brief visit at his hotel, then set sail for America as soon as possible. I have never felt welcomed by your husband, and today he made his feelings crystal clear. I won’t stay under the same roof with that libertine for one more day.”
Cathy stared at the table covered with Christmas wrappings and plates of half-eaten food. More tears welled up from her heart. Had her mother been right all along? Were men so different from women?
“I won’t ask you to come with us,” Hermione said. She glanced at Auggie, then leaned forward and patted her daughter’s hand. “But do remember that, with all our faults, we are your family. I will never betray you the way your father and your husband do.”
Auggie stood up. “I for one will be glad to get off this godforsaken island and return to civilization. I can’t imagine being anywhere else but New York for the Opera season!”
“And there will be a spring collection from Worth,” sighed Hermione. “In fact, I wonder if it might be a good idea to go to Paris to do our shopping. Paris in the spring would be the perfect tonic, don’t you think?” She peeked at her daughter from the corners of her eyes.
“Why, someone is approaching the front door,” Auggie exclaimed. “I’ll answer it, since the entire meager staff is in the kitchen.”
Cathy was feeling too forlorn to even look up until she heard a chillingly familiar voice calling, “Lady Raveneau, you remember me, don’t you? My name is Gemma Hart.”
In a fog, Cathy stood up and extended her hand to the visitor. To her dismay, Alice approached Gemma, tail wagging. “Happy Christmas, Miss Hart,” she heard herself saying in cordial tones. “What brings you to Tempest Hall today?”
“Adam’s— and my— son, Paul.”
It was then that Cathy saw the little boy. He’d been hiding behind his mother’s skirts, but now he peeked out with big, blue-gray eyes in a mocha-hued face. With shock, she realized that she was looking into eyes that mirrored Adam’s own. Was her heart still beating? All of Cathy’s world seemed to be contained in Paul’s innocent gaze and the more knowing one of his mother.
“H’lo,” said Paul.
Her heart thumped to life, filling her chest. “Hello, Paul.” Bending down to his level, she reached out a hand to him. “My name is Cathy.”
When he stepped out from behind his mother, she saw that he was wearing a little brown checked suit with short pants and a tiny bow tie. He clutched the handle of a lidded basket with both hands. “I got Stripey in here.”
Alice, who was usually so gentle, nearly pushed Paul over in her curiosity to smell the basket. “Who or what is Stripey?” Cathy asked.
“My kitty,” he confided, then lifted the lid so that she could see the little gray face and hear its mew. Aghast, Alice began to bark.