Precious Bones (10 page)

Chapter 29

July
2010

I let myself into Tristan’s flat, taking the grocery bags straight into the kitchen.    Tristan was due back from New York in roughly two hours, and I had just enough time to make him a welcome home lunch.  His flight had already landed at a few minutes past 9am, and he would be waiting to collect his luggage and go through customs before heading home.  Tristan would most likely be jet-lagged and tired, but a home-cooked lunch would be just the thing to cheer him up.  He could take a nap afterward, and I would gladly join him.

Tristan’s flat was much like Tristan himself, neat and organized.  The countertops gleamed and every cup and plate was in its proper place.  I looked around for an apron
, and remembered that Tristan didn’t own one since he never actually made anything more challenging than toast.   I filled a pot with water and put in on the cooker to boil, while taking out the rest of my shopping.  Leaving the groceries on the counter, I went into the bedroom to find an old t-shirt to change into.  I didn’t want to ruin my silk lavender blouse with tomato sauce.   I unbuttoned my top, tossing it on the bed and bent down to the bottom drawer of the mahogany dresser to get a shirt.  I was just pulling a lime-green t-shirt out of the drawer when something caught my eye.  It was just a glimmer under the bed, but I put the t-shirt on the bed next to my blouse and bent down to investigate. 

It wa
s nestled in the fibers of the thick carpet under the bed, and I would never have even noticed it if the summer sunshine wasn’t streaming through the uncurtained windows, and reflecting off the metal.  I reached under the bed and pulled out a thin, gold chain with a gold and diamond cross.  The necklace looked very familiar, and I turned it over in my hands to examine it more closely.  I sat down heavily on the bed as a wave of nausea washed over me.  There it was on the back, etched into the crossbar of the cross “JC.”  In this instance, I desperately wished that “JC” stood for Jesus Christ, but I knew that wasn’t the case.  “JC” stood for Joanna Cooper, my agent and friend.   I had seen her wear this necklace often.  It was a gift from her parents.

I wanted to get up, but my legs weren’t cooperating, so I continued to sit on the bed in my bra looking at the necklace.  As far as I knew, Tristan and Joanna only met a couple of times through me.  I
’d never brought Joanna to Tristan’s flat and she’d never been near his bedroom.    She must have dropped the necklace fairly recently, since Tristan had a cleaning woman come in every other week, and she would have hoovered the carpet.  The fact that her favorite necklace was under his bed could mean only one thing, the thing that my mind was trying to deny.  I’d left Joanna several messages this week, but she only called me back once, leaving a brief voicemail message, telling me that she would call me next week. 

Was
it possible that she went to New York with Tristan?  If she really was sleeping with my boyfriend, how long had the affair been going on?  I’d seen less of both Tristan and Joanna over the past few months, but I had been working on my book, writing at night and sleeping late in the morning.  Could I really have missed all the signs?  Were there signs?  I tried to think back over the past two months.  Tristan had been very angry when I bought the house in April, but he seemed to relent after a few weeks, although he’d never stayed over in Carter Lane.  I had seen less of Joanna as well, but when I did see her, she was her usual, bubbly self.  I hadn’t noticed any awkwardness or hidden guilt under her chatter.

I finally forced myself to get up and put on my top.  I put the t-shirt back where I got it,
threw the necklace into my bag and let myself out of the flat.  I needed to think and decide what to do before I saw Tristan again.   I needed to be sure before I made an accusation that I could never take back.
 

**

As I walked out of the building, I had no idea where I was going, but I found myself descending down into the tube station at the corner, and taking the metro to Kensington.  Joanna had gotten the house in the divorce, and her residence was on a charming, leafy street within walking distance of Hyde Park.   After ringing the bell and getting no answer, I walked over to a small café on the corner with a good view of the block.  I ordered myself a cappuccino, took a table by the window and waited.    The cappuccino tasted like hemlock in my mouth, so I gave up trying to drink it; just using its heat to warm my ice-cold hands.  The day outside was as perfect as a summer day in London could ever hope to be, but as far as I was concerned it might as well have been a blizzard.  I fought down waves of nausea as I waited, knowing that if my suspicions were correct, my life was about to change forever. 

Finally, I saw a taxi pull up, the driver taking Joanna’s case from the boot and carrying it up the stairs to her door.  She tipped him and let
herself inside.  My initial instinct was to just walk away, but I forced myself to get up and trudged to Joanna’s door, ringing the bell.  If she was surprised to see me, she didn’t let on, and invited me into the kitchen for a cup of tea.  I sat on a bar stool by the counter and watched her fill the kettle and set it on the stove.  She babbled about the weather and the horrible traffic in the city.

“Where have you been, Jo?  I called you during the week.”  I decided to start from afar to see what she would say.

“Sorry, I didn’t call you back, love.  I went to a book fair in Manchester.  Trying to drum up new business, you know.  Lots of aspiring authors looking for an agent at places like that.  There was one woman I particularly liked.  She’ll be sending me her manuscript next week.”  She ran her hand through her short, blond hair and pulled out two mugs and a jug of milk.  Smelling the milk, she made a face and spilled it down the sink.  “No milk, I’m afraid.”

I excused myself for a moment and went to the bathroom.  I didn’t need to use the toilet, but I wanted to check the airline tag on Joanna’s case.  Sure enough, it said “JFK New York”.  I had my answer.  I locked myself in the loo, splashing cold water on my face
, and trying to steady my hammering heart.  It was time. 

I walked back into the kitchen just as Joanna was pouring tea into the mugs and opening a tin of chocolate biscuits.  She pushed the tin toward me, taking a bit
e of her own cookie and a sip of tea.  I calmly reached into my bag and pulled out her necklace, laying it on the counter next to the tin.  Joanna’s face underwent an immediate transformation going from a healthy pink to chalky white, her mouth turning down at the corners, and her eyes sliding away from my face.  Her hand flew to her chest, as if she would find her own necklace there and deny that the specimen lying on the counter was truly hers, but her hand came away empty, leaving her even more flustered.

“Where did you find that?  I
’ve been looking all over for it.  Did I drop it at your house?” she asked innocently, regaining her composure.

“I found it in Tristan’s flat, under his bed to be exact.  Do you care to explain how it got there?”  I suddenly felt calm and in control.  Seeing Joanna’s reaction was all the proof I needed
, and now I felt fury, rather than hurt.  The two people closest to me had lied to me and betrayed me.  Now the ball was in my court.

“Cass, I can explain.”  She sounded pitiful
, and I just looked at her in silence waiting for the lame explanation that I’m sure she was trying to concoct; even as she picked up the necklace off the counter.  “I went over to see Tristan and I must have dropped the chain.”

“Joanna, we
’ve been friends for years.  Can you at least give me the courtesy of not lying to me?  Even if you went to see my boyfriend for whatever reason, your necklace would not be on the floor beneath his bed, unless you were in his bed.  The tags on your case say “New York,” not “Manchester,” and your reaction alone is enough to tell me that you’re not telling the truth.  Can we at least be honest with each other now?”  I continued to look straight at her, not letting her off the hook.  This was the last time we would see each other, and I needed to hear the truth from her before I left. 

“Very well.  The truth.  Tristan called me when you bought that blasted house.  He was upset
, and he couldn’t understand why you pulled the rug out from under his feet.  He said you were acting all weird, obsessed with this five-hundred-year-old mystery, staying up all night scribbling by candlelight, and sleeping the day away.  I invited him for a drink.  One thing led to another, and we found ourselves drunk and shagging each other’s brains out.  He felt guilty and ashamed, but that didn’t stop him from coming around the next day.  We’ve been seeing each other ever since.  Just for the record, he was the one who asked me to come to New York with him.  Now you know everything.”  Joanna looked at me defiantly, and I fought the urge to slap her across her smug face.

“Were you ever planning to tell me
, or were you just going to sneak around behind my back until I finally caught on?”  I felt a cold fury pulsing through my veins and I wrapped my arms around myself for comfort myself.

“Tristan was going to tell you today, at least that’s what he said.  I
’m not giving him up, Cass. “

“You don’t have to.  He
’s all yours.  As of this moment, our business relationship is terminated, and our friendship is null and void.  I wish you joy of each other.”  With that I walked out into the July sunshine feeling as if I just lost a limb.

Chapter 30

My bravado lasted until I got home and closed the door, then I dissolved into a weeping, shaking mess right there in the hallway.  I curled into a fetal position and cried until I had no tears left.   Tristan and Joanna had been the two people closest to me.   How could they have betrayed me so completely?   Did my buying a house warrant Tristan behaving like that?  I knew I had been wrong not to consult him, but he’d been sneaking behind my back for months, still sleeping with me while he was seeing Joanna on the side and she’d been dropping by, reading chapters of my new book, and playing the devoted friend.    I looked at my watch through my swollen eyes.  Surely Tristan had gotten home by now and had spoken to Joanna.  Was I not even worth a phone call or a visit in person to apologize and clear the air?  I supposed not, because no one had called or come by. 

I finally pulled myself up off the floor and dragged myself upstairs to bed.  I got in fully dressed and pulled the covers over my head, staying in my sanctuary until the golden light of the summer afternoon gave way to a cool evening, the breeze blowing through my open window smelling of freshly cut grass and the tang of the Thames.  I would
’ve stayed in bed all night, but I heard a persistent knocking.  I peeked out thinking it was the branch again, but the knocking was coming from downstairs and wouldn’t cease.

So, he’s decided to come over and face me like a man
, I thought as I took a look at my blotchy face in the mirror and went down to open the door.  I had no idea what I was going to say to him, but I knew that nothing he said to me would make any difference.  No apology or plea for forgiveness would induce me to take him back.  Not after the lies.  I yanked open the door, only to find Adrian Turner skulking on my doorstep.   Even in my hysterical state I didn’t fail to notice that he looked very handsome in his sky blue polo shirt and faded jeans. 

“May I come in?”  I pulled open the door, motioning him inside and
following him into the living room.

“What are you doing here?”
  I couldn’t imagine what brought him to my door on this particular day, and I ran a hand through my hair in embarrassment thinking I must look a fright.

“I came to see if you
’re all right.  I got a call from Joanna Cooper about an hour ago, informing me that she is no longer representing you.  From the sound of her voice, I deduced that something pretty big must have gone down in order for her to quit being your agent.”

“Is that what she said?  I fired her!” 

“Really?  Why?”  He sat down on the sofa looking at me curiously.  I opened my mouth to reply, but suddenly a pathetic wail came out and I was crying and shaking again.

“As bad as that, is it?”  He drew me into his arms and sat me down on his lap, cradling me like a child.  My head was on his shoulder
, and he kissed the top of my head and stroked my hair until I began to calm down.  I knew I should get up, but his arms around me felt so comforting that I just continued to sit there, letting him soothe me.  I must have drifted off because when I woke up, it was fully dark outside and I was lying on my bed.  Adrian was sprawled next to me, sound asleep.  His features looked softer in repose, and I could almost see the boy he must have been.  His lashes brushed his tanned cheeks, his mouth curved into a sweet smile.  I wondered why I ever found him intimidating in the first place.  I lifted my hand to shake him awake, but changed my mind.  Let him sleep.  What was the harm?  I snuggled closer to him and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 31

June
1586

Constance sat in her favorite window seat, the sewing forgotten in her lap.  Rain was lashing against the window and the room was lost in shadow despite the early hour.  Tom was dozing in the chair by the empty hearth, his bruised face all shades of purple, blue and yellow as the bruises began their healing process.    He had been back from Newgate for two days, but he still felt dizzy and weak from the beating he received at the hands of Norris’s men.  He hadn’t said anything, but Connie knew he feared a reprisal. 

Her thoughts turned to Richard.  His proposal came out of the blue and at a very odd time, but she knew it was driven by helplessness and the need to protect her.  She had suspected that he had feelings for her from the beginning, but a match between them was out of the question.  Her religion and his occupation would lead to nothing but bitterness and anger between them.  On the other hand, he
had gone out of his way to help Tom and risked Walsingham’s displeasure to get him out of prison.   Connie was sure they hadn’t heard the last of it yet.  She was loath to admit, even to herself, that Richard’s proposal filled her with happiness.  She harbored feelings for him too, and the thought of being his wife was not as unwelcome as she would have him believe.  She thought of the little, blond boy she saw in the study, and tried to imagine the children they might have some day.  Would they look like that or would they inherit her dark hair and green eyes? 

Richard had sworn that he wouldn’t interfere with her religious belief
s, and that he would protect her and her family no matter what in these dangerous times.  Constance believed him.  He was a man of his word, and she had no doubt that he would honor his promise, but what of their children?  Would he allow her to bring up a child in the true faith while being a Protestant himself?  Would he permit her to endanger their offspring by teaching them things that went against Church and State?  Could she ask that of him?  She saw Tom stirring and rose to get him a cup of ale, but he waved her back down.

“Sit down, Connie.  I would speak with you.”

Connie sat back down dreading what was to come.  She had confided in Tom yesterday that Richard had asked her to marry him and no doubt he had thoughts on the matter.  “Is it about Richard?”

Tom nodded, watching her closely with his dark eyes.  Connie wondered what his position on their marriage would be. 

“Have you given any thought to Carlisle’s proposal, sister?”

“I have thought of nothing else over the past two days,
” Connie didn’t want to make her feelings known until she heard what Tom had to say.

“Are you any closer to a decision?”

“I would hear your thoughts on the subject first,” Connie could feel the tension in the room, and realized this was the first time she felt unsure of her brother.  What would he tell her to do?  Would he forbid her to marry Richard because of his religious beliefs or would he encourage her to marry him despite them?   What would her parents have said?  She knew that her mother would have rejected it outright.  She had been a devout Catholic and would have rather died than marry a man who didn’t share her views.  Her father, on the other hand, had been more moderate and might have considered the situation from all angles before making a decision.

Tom looked uneasy as he sat up
higher, squeezing the armrests with his hands.  Connie felt sorry for him, knowing this wasn’t an easy decision to make, especially for him, being the head of the family.

“Connie, under different circumstances
, I would tell you to forget the man and never see him again, but things have changed.  We are more in danger than ever, and Richard has risked his own safety and his reputation to help us.  I know you would be safe with him as your husband, and well provided for.  His family is wealthy and has estates up north.  Maybe you would be safer there, so if you are in agreement, I give you my consent.”  He looked at her waiting for an answer and Constance realized that she had one all along.

“Thank you, Tom.  I will write to Richard and tell him I accept his proposal.  What of you and Jane?”  Now that Father Francis was in the Tower
, there would be no one to perform the wedding ceremony, and the mood was somber knowing what the priest and Mr. Horton might be facing at the hands of the law.

“I have discussed this with Jane and as soon as my bruises heal we will go to the local church and ask the priest to post the banns.  We should be able to marry thirty days after the banns are read.  Jane is eager to be married and I don’t know of any other Jesuits in the area.  It’s not what we had hoped for, but the marriage will be just as legal in the eyes of the world.”

“You are doing the right thing, Tom.  Father would be proud of you.”

“I don’t know about that Connie, I just don’t know, but I am doing the best I can under the circumstances.  I just want to keep everyone safe.  Martyrdom
was never something I aspired to.  I’ll leave that to the professionals.”