Once We Were (24 page)

“
You deserve it.”

“
Now don't play hard.”

“
Give me one reason why I should stay.”

“
Because,” Ioan replied, as if it should be obvious. “I said so.”

“
Not good enough.”

“
Because I will pay you more if you do.”

“
The mistress doesn't pay me. I work for free. It's part of our agreement.”

“
Because she needs someone by her side.”

“
Isn't that what you're all about?” Cora asked.

“
It doesn't work like that. That isn't what this is.”

“
There's no reason why you shouldn't be a good husband to her,” Cora informed him. “She treats you well.”

“
I'm sure you've heard all about this monster, Miss Hathaway,” he said. “How my life went to the dogs.”

“
It's no excuse,” she persisted. “And if you continue to act this way, you'll lose even those who love you, and no one will pity you. Life is too short, Mr. Saier. One moment its one way, the next you're a ghost. You're too young for regret. Love her as if  you never gave your heart away before. That's what Mrs. Saier would have wanted.” She snatched her note from his fingers and left the room.

Chapter 20

Lavinia blushed when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned her umbrella to Ioan. “You mean to tell me you've come down from your study?” she asked.

“
I mean to stroll in my garden,” Ioan replied. “You may join me, Miss Appleby, if you'd like.” Lavinia's high cheeks churned a delightful pink as he took her arm.

“
What is the occasion?” she asked.

“
You're ignoring everything of interest,” Ioan said. “Did you notice we have lavenders now instead of marigolds?”

“
I did notice,” Lavinia said. “I'm the one who told you last week.”

“
Oh.” Ioan glanced around at the trees and flowers dancing slightly in the breeze. “I've missed some things. The garden has changed.”

“
It's the same garden we've had all month.”

“
It's impressive.” He spotted Cora and Mrs. Dillsworth picking carrots and strawberries across the way. “When did we plant a vegetable garden?”

“
Over eight months ago. Darling, I told you all this.”

“
Oh. Right,” Ioan said. “I see our help is still with us.”

“
You're not allowed to speak to her,” Lavinia said firmly. “She agreed to stay at least until we are married and I won't have you scaring her off. I need her help around here.”

“
She's a moose, isn't she?” Ioan remarked.

“
Don't go around saying that. She can't help her looks,” Lavinia told him. “What matters is her work.”

“
I suppose she's a tolerable decision. A bit more opinionated for my cup of tea, but I suppose that's why you like her.”

“
She's got an odd aura about her. I can't grasp it. The house loves her. It came to life when she walked in. I don't know how to explain it, but it's pleasant. It's a nice change from the coldness we've entertained.”

“
If you insist, Miss Appleby. I don't see anything remarkable about her,” Ioan replied. His eyes were on Cora again. He didn't dare admit it, but something about her presence did strike him. He felt as if he knew exactly what it was, but still couldn't define it. A locked door to a place he knew he felt warm and safe, but misplaced the key.

“
You're not impressed with anything.”

“
It's rummy,” he replied. “I remember her from some place, but I don't know where.”

“
You couldn't possibly,” Lavinia giggled. “She's from Montana. You've never gone to Montana.” Ioan watched Cora delicately place each carrot in her basket. “It's how she carries herself,” he said. “It's right familiar.”

“
You're confusing yourself with someone else,” Lavinia told him. “You must be. Miss Hathaway grew up on a farm.”

“
Right,” Ioan agreed. “I must be.” He didn't disclose his true thoughts to Miss Appleby.  No sense in spoiling the morning when they were getting on so well. Nevertheless, there was only one person he knew who carried herself like that. To confuse Miss Hathaway as such was madness. He quickly disregarded the idea.

Cora met his gaze and Ioan looked away. “You don't suppose he's catching on?” she asked Mrs. Dillsworth.

“If he is, he'd be here in your arms instead of hers,” Mrs. Dillsworth answered.

“
He keeps looking this way,” Cora said. “It's unnerving.” Ioan escorted Miss Appleby to the east part of the garden, pointing out birds to her as he went.

“
I don't know how you do it, Mrs. Saier-I mean, Miss Hathaway. You keep your composure so calmly,” Mrs. Dillsworth said. “How do you handle another woman clinging on your man like that?”

“
I don't,” Cora answered, picking up another carrot. “I don't even see her next to him when I look his way.”

Mrs. Dillsworth led the way back through the kitchen. “What say you to a stew this evening, dear?” she asked Cora as they heaved the baskets of carrots on the table.

“What else are we to do with so many carrots?” Cora commented.

“
Whose day is it for market duty?” Mrs. Dillsworth glanced at the calender.

“
I'll go,” Cora volunteered. “Maybe I can sell these carrots for some bread. We're almost out. You know how particular Miss Appleby is about her bread slices. Cut it less than an inch and a half and we're out of the house.”

“
Sweet Jesus, do not forget the lace handkerchiefs,” Mrs. Dillsworth reminded her. “They must come from Mrs. Harriet's shop. The first thing Miss Appleby does is check the stitched initials to make sure they're authentic.”

Cora wrapped her shawl around her and rested the carrot basket on her arm. She repeated her list over and over again, “Handkerchiefs. Mrs. Harriet's. 12
th
and Frankfurt street. Bread. Carrots. Handkerchiefs. Potatoes. Check wine vintage.” Ioan rested his feet against the bookshelf in the drawing room as he lounged on the sofa. He raised an eyebrow behind his book as Cora hurried by. “Miss Hathaway, is the kitchen on fire?” he asked.

“
No, sir.”

“
Are you running away then?”

“
Market, sir.”

“
I'll send for the car,” Ioan offered.

“
I can walk, sir.”

“
It'll be dark by the time you return,” Ioan said. “I'll accompany you.”

“
That's not necessary, nor entirely proper, Mr. Saier. This is why you hired me, so you won't have to do these things.”

“
I have some personal things I'd like from the market. You can't possibly carry all of it back.” There was no getting around it. He had his coat and hat before she could protest. “You can't go with me dressed like that. It's humiliating,” she objected.

“
What's wrong with the way I look?” he demanded.

“
It's a market. Not a dinner party.”

He dropped the hat. “May I proceed, your highness?”

They said nothing to each other the whole way. Ioan seemed content with the silence. He guarded Cora like a homeless puppy. There was a certain lift to his step. He even smiled and nodded to folks they passed. He waited outside Mrs. Harriet's for her and negotiated a better price for her carrots. When Cora left Mrs. Harriet's, Ioan placed the money in her hand. “Get something nice for yourself, Miss Hathaway. I'll buy the bread for you.”  He went off to the bakery, but returned with a cinnamon roll. He broke a piece off for her and they sat eating in silence, watching the pigeons peck at stones. Cora soon suspected the real reason for his company. He studied her intently. He tried so hard to figure her out. She carefully avoided his eyes.

“
Does the lady desire a portrait?” a painter approached them hopefully.

“
No,” Cora said quickly. “Not now. Thank you.”

“
Why shouldn't you, Miss Hathaway?” Ioan asked.

“
How much are your portraits?”

“
Five cent a portrait, sir.”

“
Come, Miss Hathaway. Give the man some practice.”

“
No, sir,” Cora repeated firmly.

“
Where should she stand?” Ioan asked.

“
I will sit her by the oak tree,” the painter exclaimed.

“
Right here, miss. I will take these for you.” He retrieved her glasses. “Chin up slightly. Eyes toward the fountain. Just like that, miss. Please don't move.”

“
Why have you gotten me into this?” Cora hissed at Ioan. Ioan leaned in amusement against the oak tree.

“
No talking, Miss Hathaway. You don't want to look constipated on paper,” he said.

The painter nodded repeatedly to himself as he began his sketch. “My dear, you have a natural noble beauty,” he complimented. “It brightens the canvas.”

Ioan laughed unconvinced. “You think so?” He peeked over the painter's shoulder. His sly grin melted away. “She does, doesn't she?” he said quietly to the painter. Ioan glanced between subject and painting. He didn't say much after that. He waited near the tree silently as the painter finished. The painter proudly turned his work for viewing. Cora sat daintily against the tree trunk, looking out pensively to the fountain. Ioan leaned against the trunk and gazed softly at her. “Why am I standing there?” Ioan asked.

“
I followed my instincts and added you here, sir,” the painter replied. “It told me a story. It's a doleful story of longing, but hope painted in the sunset. A heart can be mended again.”

“
I believe you misunderstood us,” Cora spoke up. “He and I are not-are not-”

“
Oh,” the painter blushed. “I see.”

Ioan passed him a nickel. “Keep it in your collection,” he said. “It's a fine work of art.” He started home. Cora followed shortly behind. They resumed their stations upon reaching the house, a master and his servant.

Chapter 21

An hour passed midnight. Cora wasn't the only one infected by insomnia. The light to Ioan's study illuminated the dark hall. Every hour, she found him deeply pensive by the window. “Is there anything I can do, sir?” she asked.

“
Rest. You needn't worry about me,” Ioan assured her.

“
I'm here for you, sir.”

“
You're not required. I'm not Miss Appleby. Do not assume after yesterday that I am anything close to you or that I care for your opinion,” Ioan told her. “Rest, Miss Hathaway. That is all.”

“
It's not my duty to console you,” Cora said. “But it is my job to see to it that everyone in the house sleeps soundly.”

A small grin broke Ioan's stone face. “You never give in, do you? I could have you thrown from the house.”

“You've informed me before, sir.”

“
You're the first one I've constantly threatened to throw out, but never do. The others ran back to the city.”

“
Someone needs to look after you. It's no easy task, but it has to be done.”

“
Why do you burden yourself with me?”

“
I believe you were once a very good man,” Cora replied.

“
And you believe you can make me a better man?”

“
No, sir,” she said. “Only you can do that. I can only have patience.”

“
My congratulations, Miss Hathaway. You're such dull, useless conversation that I no longer feel awake,” he said, turning out his lamp. “Goodnight, Miss Hathaway. You shouldn't worry yourself about me anymore. It appears I have an angel watching over me in this house.”

Cora laid silently in bed. No sleep came to her aid. It never would. Lavinia's sleepy protests broke the silence. “Do you realize what time it is? I'm to be fitted in my dress early morning.”

Ioan talked too low for Cora to hear. Lavinia giggled. “What's come over you? I can't do this now.” A soft moan freed her lips. “Ioan, please don't do that. I really should sleep. Alright, alright, but only a little.”

A half hour passed. Cora bit her lip, clenching the sheets tightly. The bed knocked against her wall.

Lavinia's cries amplified in the walls. She submitted her entirety to him with no reserve. Ioan breathed deeply. Cora caught every groan that escaped him. The rhythm against the wall slowed to a steady pace, and Lavinia's wails softened to delirium. Ioan whispered to her. Cora still couldn't make anything out. Lavinia's climax came after.

Cora couldn't stand it any longer. She wrapped her shawl around her and retreated  from her room. The bedroom door slammed behind her. She didn't care. She wanted to be as far away as possible. Lavinia's room silenced.

Cora strode across the courtyard and gardens. She no longer fought her tears. The moonlight hid in the trees. No one would find her in the dark. She doubted she'd ever come back. She laid on the cold stone fountain and cradled herself in her shawl. After the tears dried, reason overtook her again. “I can't lose my head,” she reminded herself. “This is what I wanted. This is what need be done.” She sniffed. She drew her handkerchief from her pocket. “No more tears. No more caring.”

A hand touched her shoulder. Cora startled. Ioan grabbed her before she fell backwards. “Christ!” he cursed. “It's only me.”

“Mr. Saier, please go back to bed,” Cora said. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“
An eye for an eye, Miss Hathaway,” Ioan replied. “I'm here now.”

“
You may let me go now, sir.”

“
Right. Sorry,” Ioan said. “Alright, Miss Hathaway?”

“
I'm fine!” Cora snapped. She could smell the sex on him. “Respectfully, please go back to bed.”

“
You're upset.”

“
A bad dream. I do apologize. I wasn't trying to disturb...you and Miss Appleby.”

Ioan blushed. “This is rather awkward.”

“It's perfectly natural,” Cora assured him. “You're practically husband and wife.”

“
Which is the more natural part? The biological urges or that it must be with Miss Appleby?” Ioan ventured. Cora stared at him.

“
Forgive me,” Ioan said bashfully. “I don't know why I'm telling you this. I have this misconception that you are the sort of person I could tell anything to, and not everyone is like that. Forgive me. I'm such an imbecile.”

Cora nodded. “Yes. Right.”

“Of course,” Ioan said. Before Cora knew what happened, his lips were against hers. She stiffened, but it was electric. She couldn't help but submit to him. He finally released her and both of them drew in a deep breath. “I do apologize, “ he said quickly. “I don't know why I did that.”

“
You're practically married,” Cora protested.

“
Forgive me, Miss Hathaway,” he said. “It's just the closets thing to natural I've felt in a long time.” He stood. He wanted to say more, but knew it'd only make things worse. He said something which sounded like goodbye, and strode back to the house.

*              *              *

Mrs. Harriet received Lavinia with the warmest tidings. Not even warm, melted honey competed with her sweetness. Cora found it amusing how quickly attitudes changed when the future Mrs. Saier walked in. Money buys everything, whether authentic or artificial. Lavinia trembled as Mrs. Harriet led her to the fitting room. Cora welcomed herself inside, shut the door, and made a chair of a wooden crate next to the sewing machine.

“
Stand still a moment, Miss Appleby. I haven't got it all done,” Mrs. Harriet struggled with the buttons. Lavinia poked her bosom out, and appearing satisfied, turned to examine her bum. Her smile shrunk. “It's nothing like how I told you,” she complained.

“
I know you wanted lace, but silk is reemerging in London fashion this year,” Mrs. Harriet informed her.

“
You're a dainty woman, so I added the bow at the waist, and spun the veil myself. You won't find another one like it.”

“
So this is what our cousins wear in England?” Lavinia's grin returned. “I suppose if it's good enough for the them, it's good enough for me. But I won't have the veil. Cora Saier didn't wear a veil to her wedding. She wore a netted freesia hair piece. I want something like that but not like that. Do you know what I mean?”

“
What's gotten into you, Miss Appleby!” Mrs. Harriet cried. “You must have a veil. Without it, you'll have nothing on. Why would you dress like that? You don't want people getting the impression that you couldn't afford one. That's the last thing you want to do.”

“
Of course money is not the issue,” Lavinia defended. “I know he thinks of her, but men never admit such things. You know that. They will, however, admit to what they won't do, especially if it's something you wish more than anything. He won't love me like he loved her. I can wish all I want, but that's just silly. If she were here, he'd give me not a second thought. He hardly gives me any thought now. I'm the last person who should have to compete with her, yet I know I must sacrifice my pride if I want him to notice me on our wedding day. Therefore, there will be no veil.”

“
You shouldn't hold yourself to her standard. She was no lady. She was common and her fashion sense was no exception. What statement will you give your admirers dressed like her?”

“
It is not them I go to bed with,” Lavinia said.

“
There is nothing worse than living with a man who wishes it were you in the ground instead.”

“
Why would you say a thing like that?” Mrs. Harriet cried. “I'm sure it's just your nerves getting to you.”

“
No, it's true and he'd gladly agree,” Lavinia insisted. “She had him locked so tightly between her plain, common fingers. I didn't care for the girl while she was living, but I've come to hate her now.”

“
Don't scowl about it. You're ruining your face paint.”

“
Let us change the subject. It's bad luck talking about the dead in such a way. I've a wedding day approaching, and I don't want her showing up there either.”

Mrs. Harriet noted her last measurements. Lavinia's face was stone as the wedding dress fell from her shoulders. “Miss Hathaway, my shopping attire,” she ordered. Cora helped her into her skirts, fixed her hat, and followed her out the door. “Shall I ring Mrs. Easterbrook for tea, miss?” Cora asked.

“No, I don't feel in the mood to entertain. Inform her that I am not well and will return the invitation shortly,” Lavinia replied stiffly.

“
Is there anything I can do for you, miss?” Cora asked.

“
All this talk of Cora Saier!” Lavinia cried. “I must admit it's telling on me. I know I shouldn't let it vex me, but it does. Better she never existed. Alas, she's taking over my conversation again. Let's not think of her or business for a couple of hours. Damn the schedule. I need to regain some tranquility. What say you to the spa retreat? Or a picture gallery?”

“
Why, I don't know, miss. If it pleases you.”

“
Of course,” Lavinia said proudly. “
I'm
Mrs. Saier and it would please me very much.”

It was quite scary. Jealousy drove the woman mad. Lavinia walked in circles, unsure of where to go, as long as it was away from Cora Saier and her memory. It was the most mystifying picture to contemplate. No painting they observed in the gallery compared.

Lavinia didn't seem interested in any particular work. She stopped randomly at paintings whenever her thoughts troubled her most. When they subsided, she moved on. Cora knew it was nerves. She thought it better not to talk. She remembered everything she felt days before her wedding day. She was completely mental. She imagined it was much worse for Lavinia. The quiet solitude of the gallery was the only place she could unmask her fear and anxiety without scrutiny. Cora saw many tears. Lavinia wasn't ashamed that she saw. Miss Hathaway was nobody. Just a servant sworn to silence. Cora pitied Lavinia. It couldn't be easy marrying Mr. Saier. She'd never think harshly of her mistress, no matter how passionately Lavinia hated her true identity.

“
What do you suppose this is about?” Lavinia asked suddenly. She squinted at the painting before them.

“
I think it's beautiful, miss,” Cora answered mechanically.

“
I don't like it particularly. It gives me unsettled feelings. You may disregard saying what you think I'd like to hear and lend me your honest opinion.”

Cora took another look at the painting and froze. Her heart pounded. It was her portrait. The same one the painter sketched by the fountain. Ioan stood quietly watching over her. Lavinia did not make the connection, but she did notice the change in Cora's demeanor.

“What is it?” she asked.

“
It's a dreadful painting, miss.”

“
Of course it is!” Lavinia cried. “A gentleman doting on a servant. That's just plain arrogance on the painter's part.”

“
Yes, ma'am.”

“
Who is the artist? I must make a note to discredit him in future conversation.”

“
I'm not sure of his name.”

“
Here's his signature. Gianni Antonelli. I'll remember it.”

“
Impossible,” Cora whispered.

“
Did you say something, Miss Hathaway?”

“
Antonelli, I don't think he painted this,” Cora said. “No, it's impossible. This is stolen work.”

“
Why on earth would you say that?” Lavinia questioned.

“
Antonelli is a murderer,” Cora declared. “Either it is the same Antonelli who escaped the asylum, or a horrifying, ignorant pen name.”

“
Whatever the case, after I tell the ladies about this, he'll wish he'd never set hopes on a useless career.”

“
May I treat you to a tour, signorina?” a well dressed Italian man appeared beside Lavinia. The voice sent Cora's skin crawling. Her nightmares never let her forget it.

“
I didn't realize the gallery had tour guides,” Lavinia said delighted.

“
I am the director of this expressive place,” he boasted. “It would be my pleasure.”

“
Perhaps you can shed light on this Antonelli character. Who is he?” Lavinia questioned.

“
At your service, signorina,” he bowed. “You have found the apple of your eye?”

“
That apple is rotten, sir.”

“
I'm sorry. I don't understand.”

“
It's disgusting to imagine this scenario in life. It just wouldn't happen,” Lavinia protested.

“
What, signorina? Love? The idea of having something you can't have? Longing for something forbidden? It is exactly human nature. This painting is a prime example of real human desire and emotion. Such as we all feel.”