The Titans (10 page)

tip of her nose. "In this case, you're both. Believe me, Fan-was His right hand caressed the small of her back, moved downward to her buttocks. She turned cold. "comI'm not planning anything criminal. I'm only going to exercise my right of free speech as an American. A right that goddamned baboon in the White House hasn't yet abrogated-though I'm sure he'd like to! It'll be a marvelous evening, darling. Marvelous!" The word had a sonorous sound. Edward's voice, deep and mellow, was his greatest asset. During years of apprenticeship in the theater, he'd acquired perfect English diction, losing all trace of a regional accent Edward Lamont had been born of middling- prosperous merchant people in Alabama. He'd angered and humiliated his Baptist parents when he'd run away from boarding school to join a traveling troupe. Both parents were dead now. But in her last hours, his mother had written a letter admitting she wasn't altogether ashamed that her son had achieved some minor prominence in his profession, disreputable as it was. Edward's family was opposed to abolitionism-and with good reason. His aunt on his father's side-a woman beloved by dozens of Lamont relatives-had been married to a cotton planter who treated his slaves in a humane way. He refused to let his overseers and drivers use beatings as punishment; he never sold off a The Titans143 144Fan's Fear buck, a wench or a baby if it would break up a family. But in the long run, his kindness had been misguided. One November morning, Edward's aunt had asked her eighteen-year-old household boy to go outside for stove wood-a daily request which never produced any response but obedience. For no clear reason, that morning the slave screamed a refusal. His mistress ordered him again. Again he screamed, striking at her with his fists. When she called for help, the boy ran outside, snatched up the firewood ax, lunged back into the kitchen and drove the ax blade into the woman's skull. Her husband, pulling up his galluses with one hand while he cocked a revolver with the other, arrived in the kitchen a few seconds later. He thrust by the shrieking, weeping trio of household girls who had watched the killing. The planter shot and killed the murderer with one ball. Afterward, he refused to bury the dead boy. The planter-quite rightly, Edward maintained-had. the boy's body dragged to a clump of woods, there to lie in the frosty weather until the animals and carrion birds devoured it. From that time on, Edward said, the Laments worshipped at the altar of an impassioned hatred for the nigger who had taken his aunt's life. The hatred soon expanded to include any whites who believed such monsters should be allowed freedom- Edward put his lips against Fan's ear. She tried not to shudder at the feel of the tip of his tongue. He was harder, too; larger. When she started to pull back a second time, he held her fastccv "The fact is, darting, things couldn't be better. As soon as Virginia secedes, there'll be ten thousand from that state marching on this city. Perhaps men from Maryland, too. Despite Governor Hicks and his idiotic loyalty to the Union, Marylanders are strong for the f The Titans145 cause. Young Johnny Booth-why, he's a hotter sympathizer than old Yancey himself. All I'm going to do is what must be done. Show Virginia and Maryland there are a great many people in Washington who want an invasion-and damned quick!" As he spoke, he continued caressing her. He stroked her cheek, then her breast. His fingertips closed on her nipple through her nightdress. He didn't hurt her. But he wouldn't be denied. She attempted another diversion: "If what you're doing isn't illegal, why can't I go to the theater to watch?" "My dear, we've already discussed that. Canterbury Hall's a vulgar sort of place. Unescorted ladies don't attend-was "comexcept at the matinees, when the performers omit the suggestive songs and stories." She sighed. "I think you're just hiding the fact that it could be dangerous." "Not a bit! We'll have the house packed with our crowd. Josiah promised. You haven't forgotten he's coming here this morning-?" "Yes, I did forget" Remembering obviously disgusted her. "Around eleven or so." He kissed her flesh just above the bodice. "We have ample time." "Jeremiah-was she began. "Will attend to his studies without you, my dear." One arm went around her back. He bent, slipping the other behind her legs. With hardly any effort, he lifted her onto the bed. He flung off his dressing gown and stood above her, proud of his firm, trim body; proud too of his thrusting member. The sight of it made her skin crawl. Sex belonged in darkness. "It's a great day, Fan. Celebrate with me." He sat down beside her. His hand moved beneath the hem of her gown, then up along her thigh. He touched 146Fan's Fear her in that intimate way that knotted her belly and filled her with disgust. Her only defense was a mental litany she'd relied on over the years: He's your husband. It's his right. And your duty to endure it- She let him pull up the nightdress. She let his mouth linger on her breasts; her stomach-while she lay absolutely rigid. Many things had changed since her marriage to Jeohtha, but not this. Edward didn't seem to mind her lack of response. He thrust vigorously as she closed her eyes and pressed her palms against the sheet. Finally, he let out a groan and withdrew. As always, he touched her cheek: "Thank you. I know how it displeases you." She turned her head to the side. "I-I do wish I could be a better wife this way-was "Be still," he said softly. "You're a wonderful wife. What a man needs is only part of a marriage. We share many things more important-was His dark eyes took on a glow that disturbed her. As the turmoil in the nation had moved steadily toward armed conflict, Edward's acting career had become almost a sideline. He pursued it so they might eat, have shelter, and care for Jeremiah. But he spoke more and more of politics; less and less of roles and bookings- "Much more important," he repeated. was 'Heaven hath infus'd us with these spirits-"" She knew he was quoting again, but paraphrasing; changing them to us. ""comto make us instruments of fear and warning unto some monstrous state." his She ran her hand across his smooth, soap-scented cheek. "That's Casca, isn't it?" "No, Cassius. Act one, scene three. With thunder and lightning. We'll put on a big display of it tonight! When they hear it down south, the boys will come storming The Titans147 across Long Bridge and hang that misbegotten nigger- lover in front of his own executive mansion!" She studied him. "There isn't much you wouldn't do for the cause, is there, Edward?" "There is nothing." He kissed her cheek. "But that's why you said yes to me so soon after we met. Isn't it?" "Yes," she answered; uneasily. Sometimes she wondered whether she was as' fervent-as wholly committed comz her husband. Sometimes she was actually fearful about how far his hatred of the nigras, the abolitionists and the Republicans might carry him. She stared into his eyes. Right now was one of those times. While they dressed, Edward told her he wanted to go downstairs for a bite of breakfast before his visitor arrived. He'd seen Josiah Cheever daily, in private, since the family's arrival in Washington the preceding Thursday. He claimed to have met Cheever three years ago in Savannah, though Fan didn't recall it. Of course Edward and his fellow actors frequented a great many saloons that a respectable woman would never enter. Cheever, apparently, had played some part in persuading Edward to come to the capital at this particular time. It was clear to Fan that he was a ringleader of Southern sympathizers in the city. "Do go," she said to Edward. "I'm not especially hungry. And I must see if Jeremiah's doing the work I assigned." Edward stood in front of the bedroom's pier glass, using a comb and brush to arrange his hair. Finally, after studying the results, he gave an approving nod. Then he blew her a kiss and walked out through the parlor. 148Fan's Fear She gazed at the open doorway, unable to still her anxiety. She wished he wouldn't be so secretive about his plan. She knew only that in lieu of his scheduled recitations, he intended to make some sort of speech- an appeal to Southerners to stand fast until an invading army captured the city. Edward's friend Cheever had promised a house packed with sympathizers. She supposed there could really be no great risk- Yet Cheever wasn't a free agent in the sense that Edward was. He still worked for the War Department, and now that the gangling Illinois lawyer had declared the existence of an "insurrection," Cheever was technically a traitor. That fact served to intensify her worry. Standing up for principle was one thing. Associating with men whose activities could be construed as treason was quite another. She didn't want Edward hurt Or arrested. To take her mind off her fears, she dressed quickly and looked in on Jeremiah. Elbows braced on the desk, palms cupped under his chin, her son was staring out the window with an unhappy look, Jeremiah Kent would be fifteen in a little less than two months. He was a strong, lean boy with his mother's fair hair and a touch of his father's gauntness in his cheeks. Living an itinerant life for the past six years, Fan had experienced great difficulty educating her sons, She'd taught them the fundamentals of mathematics and science and tried to interest them in reading, which she hoped would prepare them for college study. On the whole, she'd been unsuccessful with Gideon and Matthew. Jeremiah was her last hope. Books were a continual problem. Much of what was considered good literature was published in the North. Fan refused to expose Jeremiah to any contemporary author even remotely connected with the abolitionist movement. She wouldn't permit him to read Lowell, Whittier or Professor Longfellow. A week ago, she'd TJ-IE Titans149 bought a volume called Poems, a title even she admitted deserved a prize for dullness. Its author, however, was an eminently safe South Carolinian. She could see the extent of Jeremiah's interest in Mr. Timrod's verse. The book lay open-and face down- on the desk. Stopping next to his chair, she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jeremiah, have you finished the first three selections?" "Oh, Ma-was He screwed up his face. "They're dull as the devil. Nothing but silly blab about trees and birds-was "Mr. Timrod has a fine reputation down south. Studying him is well worth your time. I must insist you do the reading." Another grimace. "When you finish, I want you to write a brief summary of what each poem says-the theme-was He looked puzzled. "The meaning. I'd-like it by early afternoon. Else there'll be no strolling on Pennsylvania Avenue before supper." He picked up the book as if it would poison him on contact. "All right, I'll try again-was "Good." "But I hate it." "Now, Jeremiah, don't-was He turned sideways in his chair. "I can't help it! There's so much to see outside. Soldiers mustering-was "Union soldiers," she reminded him. "I wish I were old enough to soldier. Old enough to ride off to Richmond like Gideon. Find a troop to join-was She cradled his head against her side. She felt his tension; she often forgot such intimacies were embarrassing to a boy his age. 150Fan's Fear "Don't wish for that," she said. "War's an awful business. Necessary sometimes. But people get hurt." "What if Gideon gets hurt?" "I pray it'll never happen. But I can't stop him from going. Your brother's nearly eighteen. And this war must be fought. Thank the Lord you're too young for it." He wriggled as she embraced him again. "You're the last of my three. I want you safe." "Will Matt be safe on the cotton packet?" She answered truthfully: "I don't know. I hope so. Enough talk-you concentrate on Mr. Timrod." She turned to leave, hearing conversation in the parlor. Edward's visitor had evidently arrived early. She recognized Josiah Cheever's high-pitched voice. Whether Edward approved or not, she intended to listen to the discussion- Jeremiah's voice stopped her near the door: "Ma?" "Yes?" "Is my father in Washington?" Fan stiffened. That the boy would even express interest aroused her anger. With as much composure as she could summon, she answered: "I imagine so. He works here. For that filthy Northern newspaper." "Are you going to see him?" "Certainly not!" Jeremiah looked downcast Her voice softened. "Does that upset you?" Slowly, the boy traced a finger across the lines of Timrod's verse. He spoke hesitantly: "Some. I know you say he was a bad man-was Fan shook her head. "Not a bad man. A foolish one. Completely wrong in what he believed. It caused him to do some bad things. Things which made it impossible for us to live with him any longer. I've explained it all before. His misguided ideas about the nigras were more The Titans151 important to him than beeping our family together-or seeing you boys raised properly. That's why I insisted he leave our house. Really, Jeremiah, there's no reason to bring up the subject again-was "I know, but-was The boy stopped. Fidgeted in the chair. Then blurted: "I don't remember him very well. I'd like to see how he looks." Fan's lips set in a bitter curve. "He looks the same as ever, I imagine. Eyes the color of yours. Very dark hair. You'd take him for a Red Indian except for those eyes-was Unable to control her anger, she snapped, "I've shown you his picture!" "That little tin plate you keep in the drawer?" "Not tin. Copper." She hadn't seen it herself in months. To examine it was purposeless-and painful. Jephtha had sat for the portrait in New York City in 1844 at her request. He'd gone to New York for the Methodist Conference-the meeting at which disagreement over slavery had split the church into Northern and Southern factions. The picture was a sad reminder of how happy they'd been in those days. Newly married, with Gideon barely a year old. She'd hoarded her extra kitchen funds so he could bring her a souvenir of his visit to the great metropolis coman image of his face transferred to metal by the remarkable process people now called photography. She'd never quite been able to throw away the plate and its small silk-lined box. Jeremiah still wasn't satisfied: "But the last time you showed it to me, it was all blurry-was "Daguerreotypes fade. Please-don't entertain any ideas of visiting your father. I'm married to Edward now. He's your fath-was "Not my real one." 152Fan's Fear "Jeremiah, get back to your studies!" With a stunned look, he averted his head and picked up the book. Sadly, she realized he'd probably make a botch of the paper she'd requested. Today's lesson would be a total loss. She told herself she needed to be tolerant. Understand his curiosity. Blood ties were strong. They exerted aa influence despite the countless times she'd discussed Jephtha's errors. So she mustn't be harsh. Just firm- For a
fleeting moment, she herself was tempted. How did Jephtha look today? What was his state of mind? Was he more fanatical, or less-his As she stood watching her son, she was ashamed of her momentary weakness. Jephtha Kent had filled their household with grief. Even though turning him out had brought her shame and confusion, she knew her decision had been right. Fortunately she'd found Edward- and with him, a new life. Her son glanced at her as if he'd sensed her transient indecision. "Ma, would it really do any harm if we talked to father for a little whi-?" "I said studyFrom She whirled away. Better that Jeremiah be hurt a little by her severity than exposed again to Jephtha's virulent ideas. To emphasize her determination, she slammed the door as she went out. in On the settee near the parlor window, Josiah Cheever was speaking softly: "comt's the desperate need, Edward. Ydu're in a position-was He stopped abruptly when Fan appeared. The Titans153 "We'll discuss it another time," Edward said. He was seated so he faced Fan. Perhaps she imagined it, but he seemed to be giving Cheever a glance of warning. The visitor leaped to his feet and turned. Josiah Cheever was about thirty. Short, frail, and-as always-untidily dressed. He had poor teeth and small eyes with a furtive, crafty caste. Despite Cheever's unquestionable loyalty to the cause, those eyes were one reason Fan disliked him. Another-apparent as she approached the settee-was his perpetual odor of perspiration and flatulence. Cheever executed a clumsy bow. "Miz Lamont-how are you this morning?" His faintly nasal speech put his origins somewhere in the mountainous western counties of Virginia, where his sympathies would have been an exception; western Virginia was strongly Unionist She forced a smile. "Dying to know what you and my husband are hatching, Josiah." She seated herself in a chair near them. Edward's thick brows drew together in annoyance. She went on, "Edward absolutely refuses to let me go to the Canterbury this evening." "His caution's wise," Cheever said. "Seventy-five or eighty friends have promised to be in attendance. But we're bound to have a few goddamned-uh-a few Union sympathizers in the audience, too. Can't ask people for political credentials at the ticket booth, I'm afraid." Edward said, "I've been trying to reassure Fan there's nothing to worry about. We're staging a show of solidarity, that's all." "It's a worthy purpose, ma'am," Cheever told her. Edward smiled. "I wouldn't appear on a third-class variety bill if it weren't. We've got to encourage Virginia to start men marching on Washington the moment the state secedes." "I realize what you're both trying to achieve," Fan 154Fan's Fear said. "But it still bothers me. Is the government going to permit that sort of activity?" "The government" Cheever said, "is so infernally confused right now, a thousand Virginians could capture it lock, stock, and barrel in half an hour. Of course, confusion's to be expected when the man in charge practically worships niggers. A man like that can't be sane." Fan shook her head. "I don't like Lincoln any better than you, Josiah. But I know he doesn't believe the nigra is the equal of the white. He's made speeches stating that explicitly." Cheever restrained his irritation. "Maybe so. But he's the enemy. And we've got to take advantage of his confusion. He and that bloated Scott and the damn fools in the cabinet are still fumbling with the defense of this town-was Edward interrupted: "You told me downstairs thare's talk of troops on the way." Cheever nodded. "Four, five hundred volunteers coming from Pennsylvania. Nothing to worry about. They're all green. Massachusetts, now-that's different. The Sixth and Eighth Massachusetts regiments are mustering. They're trained militiamen. Brigadier-general Ben Butler's the commander of the Eighth." "A Democrat, for Christ's sake!" Edward snorted. Cheever shrugged. "All the Yanks are sleeping in the same dirty bed these days. I suppose Butler expects to be transferred to a regular command once he arrives. Or should I say if he arrives?" The man's sly expression made Fan lean forward. "I don't understand." "It has to do with the railroads," Edward said. "What do you mean?" Cheever explained: "Both lines to Washington-the one from Harrisburg and the one from Philadelphia- lead to Baltimore. But neither runs directly through the The Titans155 city. To reach Washington, relief troops will have to be transferred from the President Street station of the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore to the Baltimore and Ohio's Camden Street station. The cars have to be horse-drawn between the stations-along the street railway route. There'll be plenty of time for crowds to form. Plenty of time for tempers to get warm-you know how the folks in Maryland feel about Mr. Lincoln and his policies. Why-was Cheever licked his lips; smiled. "comsome of those Union lads might never get out of Baltimore alive." Fan's palms turned cold. Josiah Cheever continued to smile. "When are the troops due?" she asked. "Can't imagine they could get here before the end of the week," Cheever said. "And by thetf Virginia should be out," Edward added. "So if the timing's proper-was Cheever's yellowed teeth glistened. "comif the relief regiments should bog down in Baltimore due to the anger of the good citizens of that city-and if there should be a swift march from Richmond-Washington could be ours." "Edward, I don't like the sound of this," Fan said. "I don't want you involved in stirring up street mobs-was "Who said anything about stirring up mobs?" he shot back. "We're just having a theoretical discussion." "Absolutely right-theoretical," Cheever said. "We aren't responsible for what happens in Baltimore. We're merely-ah-hopeful." "Exactly," Edward agreed. But both men were smiling, as if enjoying a private joke. Fan felt a stir of dread. An honorable cause seemed to be turning to a game played is shadows- "Besides," her husband went on, "Josiah can't afford to become entangled in illegal activities." His tone grew sarcastic. "For the present, at least, he's the devoted 156Fan's Fear employee of one of the Union's most vigilant defenders." "Vigilant my as-my eye," Cheever said. "We're lucky Mr. Lincoln's campaign managers made their little arrangement out at the Wigwam." "What arrangement?" Fan asked. "They traded a cabinet post for the Pennsylvania delegate votes controlled by the imbecile for whom I work. Ah-pretend to work." "Simon Cameron-was "Our beloved Secretary of War." Cheever snickered. "He's so stupid, he won't know there's been an invasion until he looks up from his desk and sees a Virginia squirrel gun aimed right between his eyes. Now, Edward. About that other arrangement-was Edward reddened. "I told you last evening, and again not ten minutes ago, I'll handle it in my own way. At the proper time." For a moment, Cheever looked belligerent "I hope so. Our mutual friends are relying on it." Edward turned still redder. He jumped up, grasped Cheever's arm. His knuckles were white. Cheever glared. But the actor, taller and stronger, intimidated the younger man. Cheever kept silent. Finally a smile fixed itself on Edward's face. A totally false smile, Fan knew. He let go of his guest. Spoke calmly: "Why don't we discuss it downstairs? You arrived so early, I've had no chance to eat." "Very well." Cheever's expression was truculent What in God's name was going on? Fan wondered. "You go ahead," Edward said. "I'll join you shortly." Cheever settled his soiled hat on his head. He made a show of dusting the spot on his sleeve Edward had gripped so hard. It was obvious to Fan that the two men didn't care for one another. Only their politics united them. And there seemed to be a peculiar competition The Titans157 for dominance between them, though the reason for it eluded her. "I'll be waiting, Edward," Cheever said. It was more than a casual remark. He glanced at Fan, his eyes like small brown stones. "MizLamoat-a pleasure, as always." But he looked far from pleased as he strode to the door. IV The moment he was gone, Fan exclaimed: "What was all that about? He sounded as if he were threatening you!" Edward chuckled. "Come, dear, you're reading too much into it. Josiah's a little-you might call it- unstable. He wants everyone to be as loyal to the cause as he is." "Edward, look me in the eye." He did. "What did Cheever mean about another arrangement! Is he trying to drag you into whatever they're planning when the soldiers come through Baltimore? Any simpleton can see he knows all about it" "Yes, that's it," Edward sighed-too quickly. "Certain comcombinations of men are being organized to stir up the crowds. Somehow Josiah will manage to get away from the War Department and go to Baltimore to help. He wants me to go, but I told him I'd be recognized." There was something sad about his confidence in his own fame, Fan thought; sad and entirely typical of his profession. She said nothing. "Josiah's fervor is understandable. A lot of men in Washington who favor the South believe the situation demands absolute commitment" 158Fan's Fear "And you said there was nothing you wouldn't do for the cause." "Well-was A studied shrug. "I exaggerated a little. I'll work it out with him, don't fear." He squeezed her arm. Pecked her cheek. As he did, she thought: He's lying to me. Lying in a way he's never lied before- Why? With a jaunty wave, Edward started for the door: "I'll have a drink and some food in the bar. As soon as I send Josiah along, I'll be back. Oh, yes. While I think of it-was He walked back to her. He was relaxed; smiling in a thoughtful way. She sensed none of the pretense that had alarmed her a moment ago. "comI did have one thing I wanted to mention. Forgive me, but I wonder if you've given any thought to the fact that your former husband is probably in the city." Stunned, Fan struggled for words: "Jephtha? Why, of less-than Jourse, it-it did occur to me." "Do you suppose it might be wise to look him up?" "Look him up? For what reason?" "For the sake of the boys. I know you've assured me he's an honest man-was "In his own way, yes." "And the boys are supposed to be the eventual recipients of those funds he controls-was "You know very well mat when Jephtha passes on, the boys will inherit the California gold money. I don't see why you should bring up-was "Dammit, Fan, don't look so confounded vacant! I'm thinking of the boys' welfare! A whole new set of factors has been inserted in the situation. A war. Gideon's certain to join up. What if that angers your former husband? Angers him so much, he decides to disinherit his sons?" The Titans159 "Tffness unthinkable. Jephtha was foolish to put the management of the money into Amanda Kent's hands. But it was never done with any intent to defraud the boys." "I thought you accused him of that very thing." Now it was Fan who was scarlet. "I did. I-I was furious with him in those days. I said a great many things I shouldn't have." "You do admit he's violently opposed to slavery-was "But he's not a cheat!" "That wasn't how you felt when we met six years ago." "I realize. Even then, I was still angry with him-was "You've softened toward him?" "A little." She was surprised at her own admission. Edward's expression remained bland. "Even so, it might be wise to contact him. To-oh-reassure yourself, I've told you over and over, the money means nothing to me. Actors have damn little regard for worldly goods-was The charming smile reappeared. "As long as we eat with reasonable regularity, and get our share of applause, we're content." "I know," Fan said. "You've always been decent about the money. Some men wouldn't have been, I expect." Edward caught her hand in his. "I didn't mean to raise an unpleasant subject. It's just an idea that's been in my head for a day or so. You're here-it might not be amiss to get Jephtha to promise in writing that no matter what the boys do in the war, he'll honor their claim to the inheritance." "In writing!" "It is the safest way." "Edward, I honestly don't think it's necessary. Jephtha may be a Northerner now. But he cares for his sons. You know how many letters he's written, wanting to know about them. I never answered the letters be 160Fan's Fear cause you said I shouldn't." That, too, she had begun to regret. "Perhaps I was in error. The very lack of answers could be another reason for turning against the boys." "It's possible, but I doubt it." "Well, if you don't believe it's worth being absolutely sure-was "Suppose he has changed his feelings about Gideon and Matt and Jeremiah, what could I do? And if he hasn't changed, talking to him would serve no purpose. Besides, I-I'm neasure I'd have the courage to face him." Edward's smile was almost mocking: "Good God, I hope you're not having second thoughts about the divorce at this late date!" "Of course not. I know I did the right thing." "All right, let's forget it." He bussed her cheek. "It was only a suggestion. I do confess I had an ulterior motive for making it, though-was Again she felt chilled. "What motive?" He laughed. "Why, I'd really like to get a look at the fellow. A Bible-shouter who flip-flops into a career as a journalist-a man you say bears a strong resemblance to an Indian-you can't blame me for being curious about him." "You've seen the daguerreotype." "Oh, but it's ancient. Faded. The truth is-was A gentle chuckle. "comI suppose I'd really like to know how J stack up against him. A normal enough male reaction, wouldn't you say?" She felt relieved. "There's no comparison. You're the man I love, Edward." "I'm glad. I'll be back soon-and please, forget the whole thing. The idea was foolish." He went to the bedroom. Through the open doorway, Fan saw him glancing at his image in the pier glass. He used an index finger to smooth both sides of his mus- The Titans161 tache, then returned to the parlor. He smiled as he let himself out. But before the door closed, she saw the smile change to a scowl. Disturbed, she walked to the window bay overlooking the street. She folded her arms across her breast as she stood in the sunlight. The lace curtains cast a blurred pattern on her face. She was ashamed of her thoughts, but she couldn't escape them: What is he involved in? Much more than he's telling me, I'm certain- Fan had never distrusted nor even questioned her husband before. Of course, she was almost sure he occasionally indulged in sexual activity with other women. But that wasn't a matter to be classified under the heading of trust. It was simply a fact she acknowledged and accepted. He was a healthy, virile man. And she recognized her failure to satisfy him. So it was essentially true that she'd never distrusted Edward-nor been worried about any of his activities. But now, because of his sudden and surprising interest in Jephtha, she was suspicious. And because of his association with the enigmatic and unpleasant