Auggie came up beside them. “Paul, why don’t we take Stripey into the gallery so that your mummy can talk to Lady Raveneau?”
Although Cathy didn’t know what to make of that, she had more pressing worries. She saw the fire in Gemma’s eyes and recognized her jealousy.
“You have made yourself at home, I see,” Gemma said, looking around the inviting room.
“Of course. This is my home.”
“Perhaps, but you are just a substitute.”
Cathy was taken aback by the soft, cultured tone of the woman’s voice. It was at odds with her message. “Look, Miss Hart, I understand that you resent me—”
“I believe I would have been mistress of Tempest Hall if not for my race. He would have married me if only I were light-skinned. It just isn’t done, though, not even by a rebel like Raveneau.”
“Perhaps that was true once, but—”
“Have you been lulled into trusting him? How foolish! Do you imagine that he has fallen in love? Adam Raveneau will never change. He is too much a male; he thrives on his conquests!”
All the blood drained from Cathy’s face, and for a moment she thought she might faint. “Why have you come here? Why do you wish to hurt me?”
“I am here for my son, not myself, and certainly not for you.” Suddenly, Gemma looked exhausted. “I am ill. I must leave the island to get proper medical treatment, and it is time for Adam to face his responsibilities as a parent.” Her lovely mouth tightened. “I am here to tell you that your honeymoon, such as it may have been, is over.”
Hermione came up beside her. “Are you quite all right, Miss Hart? Can I call for a glass of water?”
“My driver is waiting outside; I must go. I’ve left Paul’s little trunk on the steps.” She started through the sitting room, toward the door. “I don’t want to see Adam. I don’t have the strength.”
Just then, Paul burst back into the room, clutching the mewing Stripey in his chubby hands. “Mummy! Don’t leave me!”
“I’ve explained already, darling. You’re going to stay with your papa until I’m well enough to return.” And with that, Gemma kissed him, put him from her, and hurried out the door. Moments later, they heard the sulky roll away down the drive.
Paul began to wail, tears streaming down his face. “I want Mummy!” he cried over and over again. Stripey slipped from his grasp and darted between Alice’s legs. The aging Labrador gave chase, barking, and the two circled the room before Stripey jumped over the ornament-laden orange tree. Alice plowed straight into it, the tree crashed to the floor, and shattered bits of blown glass scattered across the sitting room.
Auggie picked up the sobbing Paul before he could cut himself on one of the broken ornaments, and Cathy managed to coax Alice safely out of danger before she realized that her own cheeks were wet with tears.
“Will someone tell me what the devil is going on around here?” shouted Adam. He stood in the sitting room entrance, staring at the wreckage with angry dark eyes. Slowly, he focused first on Alice, whose ears were down, and then on the striped kitten who was clinging to a branch of the toppled orange tree.
“Papa!” wailed Paul. He stretched out his arms, leaning wildly out of Auggie’s grasp.
Adam blinked. “Oh, God. Paul.” He took the child and wiped his wet, smeared face with a snowy handkerchief. Next, he looked at his wife. “I still need an explanation.”
“Do you indeed?” Chin trembling, Cathy willed herself to walk by him, pausing only to add, “I am going upstairs to pack, my lord. This marriage has been impossible from the first, just as you warned me in Newport. Finally, I have faced facts.”
PART FIVE
Chapter 26
Stunned, Adam watched his wife walk away, her head high and her pretty raspberry-striped skirt swishing from side to side. The room seemed to be whirling as he tried to absorb her words.
“Mummy!” cried Paul.
He focused on the little boy. “It’s all right,” he told him firmly. “Don’t cry. You’re safe with me.”
Paul stared for a moment, into eyes that were identical to his own, and stopped crying. Tentatively, he rested his head on Adam’s chest and sighed.
“Auggie, we must pack as well,” Hermione was saying loudly. She did not deign to glance at her son-in-law as she swept past.
He would not play the old woman’s game. “No. You both will stay here until I return. Sit down and wait.” When his eyes flicked over to the contrite Alice, she immediately went to her usual spot on the rug and lay down. Meanwhile, Hermione and Auggie obeyed as well, frowning to express their displeasure.
Unfortunately, Adam seemed to have no choice but to take Paul along as he went up the stairs two at a time. He found his wife in what had once been his bedroom, pulling a large trunk out of the dressing room. She opened it and went back to fetch a selection of skirts.
“I won’t have time to pack everything, I’m afraid,” she said without looking into his eyes.
“Cathy, this is madness. For God’s sake, I know you’re upset—”
“On the contrary.” She kept her face averted. “I am quite calm. It’s actually a relief to face the truth at last.”
“What the devil are you talking about? What truth?” He shifted Paul in his arms and went closer.
“Please don’t shout. Your son has enough to contend with right now, don’t you think?” She managed to glance up, but his stunned expression was too unsettling to bear. Unbidden, an image came to her of Adam and Gemma, naked together, creating this child in his arms. She pulled nightgowns out of a drawer and re-folded them. “Really, there is no point in this discussion. You were not prepared to marry, but I virtually forced you into it, didn’t I? I refused to listen to your protestations. There was no sound basis for this marriage on either side, so why should we be surprised that it is tumbling down around us?”
Paul had lifted his head from Adam’s chest and began to squirm. His father held him fast, staring at Cathy. “Do you mean to say that you are just going to give up and walk away?”
“Yes, I suppose I do.” Her heart hurt when she tried to breathe, but she refused to let him see her tears. “To be perfectly honest, I have had enough of men and the pain you inflict so casually.”
“This is your mother’s doing. She has poisoned your mind!” He let the struggling Paul down, barely noticing when he went running with tiny steps toward the doorway. “Cathy, for God’s sake, let’s sit down and talk about this—”
“I’m afraid it’s too late.” She pointed toward the corridor. “You have other matters to attend to, primarily the well-being of that innocent child. Go and get your son, Adam, before he wanders too close to the stairs. You’re responsible for his safety now.”
Hours later, Cathy found herself alone in one of the Ocean Breeze Hotel’s finest rooms. Her mother and Auggie had adjoining suites across the corridor and, after the journey south and a fine meal with the surprised but welcoming Theo, they had all pleaded fatigue and retired early.
Through her open window, Cathy saw that the last fragment of sun had disappeared into the ocean and darkness was wrapping the hotel in its balmy embrace. She unpacked her trunk to the sound of the tree frogs across Hastings Road and the waves lapping against the bathhouses.
In a side compartment of the trunk, she glimpsed the slim volume of Emily Dickinson’s poetry that her brother had given her for Christmas five years before. When she touched it, she saw his face as he had been in their happiest moments, carefree and charming, her one ally in the bizarre world their mother had constructed around them. Tentatively, Cathy opened the cover and saw the inscription in his familiar hand: “To Cat.”
It was too much pain. She pushed it back in the compartment until it was out of sight.
When all the drawers in the mahogany tall chest were filled, Cathy took out a nightgown and looked over at the bed. A maid had drawn back the counterpane on one side to reveal a single pillow. Since the moment they had left Tempest Hall, she had been numb. The sight of Adam standing in front of the manor house, holding Paul in his arms while Alice sat next to him, had been heart wrenching. As the carriage, driven by Simon, started down the lane, Paul had raised his pudgy hand and called, “Bye-bye!” Adam’s expression had been stony with disbelief.
She replaced the nightgown in the drawer, dimmed the light at her bedside, and went out into the corridor. The hotel was completely quiet. Perhaps because it was Christmas day, there were only a handful of other guests, and it seemed that they had all retired for the night. A clock on the landing struck ten.
Downstairs, she saw a light burning in the small office that opened off the lobby. Inside, Theo sat at the desk with its assortment of pigeonholes, laboring over a ledger. On the wall beside the desk was a reference board with a wooden slot for each room.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he inquired without looking up. “I’m not surprised.”
“I couldn’t even get into my bedclothes,” she admitted. Her heart began to thump again at the mere thought of lying alone in the dark room for the whole long night.