Thurston House (16 page)

Maybe for a little while, Jeremiah. She was suddenly very tired. Just until after the baby.

No. And then he simply patted her arm. Let me work it out. He would send his banker to talk to her. It had been done before. She would cry, and he would reason, and every month she would be paid a stipend, which would support herself and her four children, comfortably, for as long as she needed it. It was the least he could do for her. He wasn't going to marry her, and they both knew it. The dream of that was long gone. Instead, he was building a palace for the girl from Atlanta.

Jeremiah stood up then, and walked Mary Ellen back to where the young man was waiting, and he suddenly wondered if there was more to his protectiveness of her than first met the eye, but if that was the case, Jeremiah didn't want to know about it. He had no doubt that the child was his, he trusted her and knew there had been no one else, and if there was now, she had a right to some comfort. He had Camille after all.

You'll quit your job then? She nodded, and then her eyes sought his.

Will you come back and see me again sometime, Jeremiah? She tore at his heart with her words, but something deep inside told him not to.

I don't know. I don't think I should, for all our sakes. Not even to see the baby? Her eyes overflowed again and he felt like the biggest bastard alive.

I'll come to see you then. And I want to hear from you before that if you need anything at all. He wasn't afraid that she would take advantage of him. She never had before, and even now when other women would be clawing at him, she was being very decent. I'll be gone ' he hesitated with sudden embarrassment, after the first of December. He was getting married in Atlanta on the twenty-fourth, but there would be two weeks of parties before that, and he had promised Camille he would be there. And now this woman in Calistoga was having his baby. How strange life was. He couldn't help thinking that as he rode slowly home, thinking of how much his life had changed in the past six months. And stranger still, it was possible that within the next year, he would have two children. He had to smile at the thought as he tethered Big Joe in his stables ' two children ' one by Mary Ellen ' and one by Camille ' and it didn't even seem strange to him, in light of all the other goings on, that there was a letter from Amelia Goodheart waiting for him on the kitchen table. It was the first time he had heard from her since he had left her on the train, on her way to Savannah. She wrote to him now to tell him that she had received his letter and that she was happy for him about the young lady in Atlanta, a little jealous too, she admitted with a smile he could almost see, but she told him that he was doing the right thing, and she hoped to meet her if they ever came to New York. And in the meantime, her daughter in San Francisco was expecting another baby, and she would undoubtedly be out sometime in the next year to see her. Her letter filled Jeremiah with a kind of warmth, and he found himself thinking of the three women and how different they were as he heated up some dinner Hannah had left for him. Strange how life was, women and babies, and romances on transcontinental trains, and in another nine weeks he would be married to the delicate little girl with creamy skin and rich black hair, with the teasing lips and dancing eyes. His whole body seemed to shiver as he sat in the quiet kitchen, thinking of the girl he was going to marry in Atlanta.

WHEN Jeremiah left for Atlanta on the second of December, work on the house on Nob Hill had gone at a pace even he could scarcely believe. He was due back in San Francisco around January fifteenth, and he had no doubt in his mind that the house would be complete by then. They had already put up a small brass plaque in the outer wall with THURSTON HOUSE cut in it in carefully engraved letters. Thurston House, and Camille knew almost nothing about it. He had kept it a carefully guarded secret, but there was no doubt in his mind that she would love it. The turrets were in place now. The trees and gardens were planted. The exquisite wood paneling and chandeliers were already done, and a marble floor had been designed from marble shipped down specially from Colorado. There would be every modern convenience ever made and the woods and the fabrics and the crystal were the best anyone could buy. The place was almost a museum before anyone had ever lived in it, and he laughed to himself as he took a last look around before catching the train to Atlanta. It was going to take a lot of children to fill it.

The trip to Atlanta seemed interminable this time, he was so excited to arrive, and he was bringing with him the most beautiful pearl necklace they had ever seen at Tiffany's in New York, with pearl and diamond earrings to match, and a very handsome bracelet too. They had sent him drawings of the pieces and they had arrived just in time for him to take them to Atlanta. There was also a very pretty ruby pin for Mrs. Beauchamp, and a spectacular sapphire ring he was going to give Camille when they got to New York for their honeymoon. And he had written to Amelia, hoping to see her, and to introduce her to Camille when they were in New York. She had finally begun to write to him and he enjoyed the correspondence with her, almost as much as he had enjoyed the hours they had shared on the train. He had taken Amelia's advice after all, and he was so proud of his bride, he could hardly wait to show her off to everyone he knew.

He thought of Amelia now, on the trip east, it had been less than a year since they met, and since he saw her last, and he still remembered the striking, elegant beauty. It struck him again that she looked vaguely like Camille, but it was Camille who was foremost in his mind now, the graceful arms, the tiny face, the long fingers, the delicate ankles, the shining hair, he could hardly wait to hold her again, and kiss her lips, and listen to her laughter as he held her in his arms.

She was waiting for him at the train station in Atlanta this time, complaining because the train was four hours late, but it didn't seem to dampen her spirits and she flung herself into his arms with a squeal of glee, and a kiss and a burst of laughter. She was wearing a deep green velvet cape with a matching hood and a muff, all of it lined in ermine, and beneath it a green taffeta dress, which she had meant to save for her trousseau, but didn't because she wanted to wear it to meet him at the station. He could hardly keep from squeezing her too hard as they rode to the Beauchamp home, where he greeted the entire family and drank champagne before going to the hotel and settling in, for the two weeks before their wedding.

And the next two weeks were a ceaseless, breathless round of parties, with balls and dinners and lunches and every possible kind of feast and celebration. The Beauchamps gave a large dinner themselves the day before the wedding, for Camille's closest friends, as a sort of good-bye, before she left Atlanta. And there were tearful greetings and tearful good-byes, and Jeremiah thought he had never seen so many pretty young women in one room, but the prettiest by far was his fianc+!e. She swirled around the dance floor in his arms, and danced until dawn every evening, never seeming to tire, and always alive and excited again by the next morning.

Jeremiah laughed to his future father-in-law one day, I'm beginning to worry about keeping up with her. I'd forgotten that that was what youth meant.

It'll keep you young, Thurston.

I hope so. But he wasn't really worried. He had never been happier than he was now, and he was looking forward to their trip to New York, and their return to San Francisco, when he would show her the house he had built for her. He had to assume that all was going well in his absence, and even if some of the finishing touches had to be completed later on, the overall effect was already spectacular. He had told Orville about it when he arrived, and Camille's father looked well pleased by what Jeremiah had done for her. It was quite a tribute to his daughter, who was already enjoying her fianco's lavish gifts, as was Mrs. Beauchamp ' So much the gentleman ' so very kind. ' She looked ever more the relic of the old South, unlike her daughter, who brazenly proclaimed how much she enjoyed Jeremiah's extravagant gifts, and showed them off to all her friends, twelve carats, she said again and again of the diamond ring, and now she was showing everyone the Oriental pearl necklace, which was indeed a remarkable piece of jewelry, with pearls of up to twenty-eight millimeters in diameter. They cost him a fortune, I'm sure, she added once, and was instantly scolded by her mother, but her father was only amused, and Jeremiah said nothing. He was growing used to the Beauchamps' ways, and knew that inwardly Camille was different from her father.

The wedding was held at six o'clock in the evening on Christmas Eve in St. Luke's Cathedral on the corner of North Pryor and Houston streets. The wedding was performed by the Reverend Charles Beckwith, a cousin of the bishop, and there were several hundred friends present to watch the couple exchange their vows and several hundred more who had been invited to the reception at the hotel where Jeremiah was staying. It made it easy to slip away at last, and bring her to the suite where her bags were already waiting. They would spend the night here, and then lunch with her parents the next day before catching the train to New York early that evening. And by the time Camille and Jeremiah reached his room, they were both exhausted. It had been a long, long day for them both, a longer two weeks, filled with excitement and parties, and even an early Christmas party that day at lunch. Jeremiah felt as though he had never in his life been to so many parties. And now he looked at his tiny bride, sprawled across the room's pink velvet settee, her magnificent ivory lace wedding dress spread around her like a collapsed tent, and as he looked at her, he thought again how much she meant to him. He had waited more than half a lifetime for her, and he had no regrets now. She had been worth waiting for, worth the heartbreaks that had come before, the disappointments, the lonely years ' in the end, she was even worth causing Mary Ellen pain. Not for anything in this life would he have given up marrying Camille. He adored her in every possible way, and knew that she would be the perfect wife for him, with all her brilliance and her fire and her outrageous flirtatious ways, and her passion. But she didn't look particularly passionate now, as she lay sprawled out in her wedding dress, her eyes suddenly glazed with exhaustion. It had been an endless two weeks of constant celebration and he had worried more than once that the festivities would prove to be too much and she might fall ill. But she didn't look ill now, only childlike and terribly tired.

Are you all right, my love? He knelt at her side and took her hand and kissed her palm as she smiled at him. I don't think I can move, I'm so tired. I'm not surprised. Shall I call for the maid? Her eyes held his, and he liked what he saw there. Lately, she had often said the wrong thing, talking of some expensive dress her father had bought her for her wedding clothes, or the enormous diamond that had been Jeremiah's engagement gift to her. But what he saw in her eyes now pleased him to his very core; he saw love and joy and trust. It was only her upbringing at her father's hands that had made her so aware of the money people spent. But after a month or two in the Napa Valley, he knew that her mind would be filled with simpler pleasures, the grapes from his vineyard, the flowers in the garden Hannah was planting for her, the babies they would have ' and even though the house in the city was a veritable palace, the most valuable thing about it was the love with which it had been built for her. It was a monument to their love, which was precisely what Jeremiah was going to tell her when she first saw it. For the first time in his life, he felt totally fulfilled, and now as he looked at his exquisite little bride, lying so quietly in her wedding dress, he felt as though his heart would burst from the sheer happiness of it.

Well, Mrs. Thurston ' how does that sound to you? He kissed the inside of her wrist and something in her stirred as she smiled voluptuously at him. She was too tired to move, but not too tired to want him near her now. She never tired of having him close by, and just looking at him always made her ache with desire. She had never known she would feel that way about any man, and certainly not one as old as Jeremiah Thurston. She had always secretly suspected she would marry some terribly dashing young man, maybe a Frenchman from New Orleans, or the counts her father talked about from France ' or a very rich banker from New York with smoky eyes ' but Jeremiah was more handsome than any of the visions she had conjured up, and there was a rugged maleness about him, which she liked, and which only frightened her a little now. He was terribly appealing to her, and in spite of what her cousin had said, somehow she couldn't bring herself to think that what he was going to do to her was disgusting. She could see it in his eyes now, the same lust he had looked at her with from the first, but she liked to tease him and bring it out in him, and she did so again now, kissing his neck, and then his ear, and at last his lips, as she could feel him strain toward her.

And then, without saying a word, he began to undo the tiny buttons up her arms, revealing the creamy flesh underneath, and kissing her as he did so. And then, removing first the heavy ropes of pearls he had given her, he began to undo the myriad tiny satin buttons down the front of her dress, revealing the exquisite cleavage, covered by the perfectly sculpted satin slip, and finally the lacy corset. He seemed extremely adept at it all, and released her ravishing young body from the clothing that bound it, and she stood before him unafraid, and unadorned, in her very own naked splendor, with only her creamy silk stockings still on, and one by one he peeled them from her, and then he quickly cast aside his own clothing, marveling at her lack of shyness with him, her openness and her courage ' covering her with his lips, with his hands, bringing her more pleasure than she had ever dared hope for ' her cousin had been wrong ' wrong ' she thought of her only briefly as she moaned ' this was precisely as she had dreamed it ' and even when he laid her gently on the bed and parted her legs, entering her at first with his tongue, and then his fingers, and then finally plunging into her with his full desire unleashed within, she moaned not with pain but with pleasure. ' He brought her an exquisite agony she had never even dreamed of, and she brought him to heights so pure and so lovely that he almost cried in her arms, as he lay there, spent, with his head cradled on her bosom.