Wilde, Jennifer (57 page)

"Jeff—"

"I
knew he was in New Orleans, knew he'd come to the ball after I left, but I told
myself you wouldn't do this. This—this afternoon I couldn't contain myself any
longer. I finally went to the dress shop, and when you weren't there, I had to
come here. I knew he was staying in Valjean's rooms. I prayed you wouldn't be
here."

"I'm
sorry, Jeff. I—I didn't want to hurt you. It—it's something I couldn't—"

Jeff
cut me short with a gesture and then, ignoring me, he looked at Derek, nodding
at him as though in greeting.

"I
guess I'll have to kill you," he said.

"Hold
on, Rawlins."

"Shall
we say tomorrow morning? At the Oaks?"

"You're
suggesting a duel?"

"It's
customary, I believe."

"I
won't fight you, Rawlins."

"No?"

"We
can settle this some other way."

"You
think so?"

"I've
no wish to harm you."

Jeff
smiled and shook his head, amiably, as though he'd just heard a not-too-amusing
joke. Then he stepped over to Derek, drew back his hand, and slammed it across
Derek's cheek with shattering impact. I gasped as Derek stumbled back toward
the door. I seized Jeff's arm, trying to pull him back. He brushed me aside as
though I were some worrisome insect and stood waiting for Derek's reaction. A
moment passed. Derek drew himself up. The imprint of Jeff's hand burned on his
cheek, but the rest of his face was deathly pale.

"You
shouldn't have done that, Rawlins."

"Shall
we say seven o'clock? Pistols?"

"Pistols
will be fine."

"No!"
I cried. "I'm not going to let you do this!"

"Shut
up, Marietta," Jeff ordered.

"Both
of you are insane!"

Neither
man paid the least attention to me. They stared at each other, Derek grim, his
gray eyes dark, Jeff superbly composed.

"I'll
see you tomorrow then, at the Oaks," Jeff said.

Derek
nodded. Jeff took hold of my wrist.

"We'll
go home now," he said. "Till tomorrow, Hawke."

"Till
tomorrow," Derek replied.

It
was almost six, and still the sky was dark, sprinkled with stars, not even a
hint of dawn on the horizon. I let the curtain fall back in place and resumed
my pacing. I hadn't been able to sleep, hadn't even attempted to go to bed. All
night long I had paced, frantic with worry, trying to think of something I
could do to stop this insanity. At one point I had been on the verge of going
to Derek, pleading with him as I had pleaded with Jeff, but that would have
been futile. Derek would have been as deaf to my pleas as Jeff had been.

Jeff
hadn't spoken a word during our ride home in the carriage, and I had been
silent, too, shaken, upset, consumed with guilt yet knowing I must somehow keep
calm. He had gone to his room as soon as we got back, closing the door firmly
behind him. Somehow or other I had managed to change and perform my duties as
hostess, and it had helped, for when the last customer had gone I was calmer,
ready to discuss things with Jeff in a reasonable, civilized manner. He had
stayed upstairs in his room ever since returning. I had expected to find him
drunk, but when I finally knocked on his door and entered, it was to find him
stone sober, sitting in his chair and staring into space like someone in a
state of shock.

He
refused to discuss it, refused to let me explain, refused to listen to my
pleas. He was calm—cool, even —and that had only made me feel worse. Finally,
unable to help myself, I had cried, and that hadn't moved him, either. After
almost an hour, I had finally come to my room. Four more hours had passed, and
soon he would be leaving. The candles had all burned down, flames dancing now
in pools of wax, casting shadows over the walls. The clock ticked monotonously,
bringing the hour nearer and nearer.

What
was I going to do? What was I going to
do?

There
were tears in my eyes, and I had never felt so wretched in my life. In just a
little over an hour, two men were going to meet outside the city, under the oak
trees, to fire pistols at each other, all because of me. It was insanity, pure
insanity. What if one of them were hurt? My God, what if one of them were
killed?
I knew I couldn't bear that. I loved Derek with all my heart, and I loved
Jeff, too, and if either of them... I thrust the image out of my mind.

The
clock struck six. I must stop them. Somehow or other, I must make them see
reason. But how? Jeff wouldn't listen to reason, and I knew Derek wouldn't
either. He could not ignore the insult of the slap. He was a proud man. He had
vowed he would never kill again, no matter what the circumstances, yet he was
going to meet Jeff on the field. If there was an accident, if something
happened to Jeff, Derek would blame me. And Jeff... Jeff intended to kill
Derek. This wasn't a question of honor to be settled between two young
hotheads. It went much deeper. I had to stop it.

First
of all, I must get hold of myself. I was on the verge of hysteria, and that
would accomplish nothing. I must calm down, and then I must dress, for I was
wearing only my petticoat. I forced myself to sit down at the dressing table,
forced myself to pick up the brush. In the flickering candlelight I brushed my
hair until it fell about my shoulders in rich red-brown waves. The physical
action was soothing, and I could feel some of the tension receding.

I
dressed
carefully, selecting a dark navy-blue dress with long sleeves. I stepped over
to the full-length mirror. There was anguish in my eyes, and my lids were brushed
with the blue-gray shadows of fatigue. The skin was stretched tightly over my
cheekbones. I gazed at the reflection, forcing back the tears threatening to
spring anew.

I
should have gone to Jeff in the beginning. I should have told him that Derek
had returned, that I was going to live with him, but I had been reluctant to
hurt him, had put it off repeatedly. Instead of being open and honest and
making a clean break, I had slipped off like a deceitful wife to meet Derek.
Because I hadn't wanted to hurt Jeff, because I had delayed telling him for as
long as possible, I had hurt him much worse. I alone was to blame for all this.

Turning
away from the mirror, I heard voices in the hall. Jeff's voice was cool and
precise as he gave instructions to Kyle, and Kyle replied in deep, sepulchral
tones that caused me to shiver. I moved quickly through the sitting room and
opened the door just in time to see Kyle moving down the hall toward the
staircase. Jeff stood watching him. He hadn't slept, either. I saw that at once.
His face was pale, his features drawn, and all traces of the raffish charmer
were gone. His brown eyes were grim, and that wide pink mouth so ready to grin
was set in a hard, determined line.

He
turned to look at me. I might have been a stranger.

"You
can't go through with this, Jeff," I said quietly.

"Kyle
has gone to the livery stable to fetch the carriage."

"You
must call it off."

"That's
impossible, Marietta."

"You
could be killed."

"I
could be, yes. It wouldn't much matter."

"Jeff—"

"It's
something I have to do," he said.

"This—this
insanity will prove nothing. It will change nothing. I love him, Jeff. I always
have. I've never pretended with you."

"You've
never pretended," he agreed.

"I—I
didn't want to be unfaithful. It was something— something I couldn't help. When
he came back, when I saw him again—"

"I
don't care to discuss it, Marietta."

"I
didn't want to hurt you. That's why I didn't tell you. I intended to tell you,
but I kept putting it off, knowing what it would do to you. If there were any
way I could have spared you this—"

"It's
too late for words."

"How
you must hate me," I whispered.

"No,
Marietta, I don't hate you. I couldn't, no matter what you did. I love you with
all my heart and soul, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to be enough."

We
looked at each other for a moment. Jeff's eyes were filled with that love, with
the pain it cost him, and my own filled with tears I could no longer hold back.
He sighed and shook his head wearily, and then he drew me to him and kissed me
tenderly on the lips, as though he were comforting a child. I rested my hand on
his cheek, looking up at him with tearful entreaty.

"Please
forgive me," I begged.

"I
would forgive you anything."

"Don't
go through with it, Jeff. Please don't."

"I
must, Marietta. I'm afraid I can't salvage very much out of all this, but
perhaps I can salvage my manhood, my pride."

"Pride—"

"I
must have something left when this is all over."

"I'll
give him up, Jeff. I'll never see him again. I'll even marry you. I do love
you. In my way I love you. How I wish it could be—how I wish I could love you
the way you love me. I... I'll learn. You'll make me. The night of the ball you
said you were going to—"

"It's
too late," he said quietly.

"What
have I done?" I whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you. You must
believe me."

"I
believe you, Marietta."

He
took me by the shoulders, gently moved me back, away from him, and then walked
down the hall to his office and disappeared inside. I leaned against the wall.
It was useless. I had failed. I had wounded him as deeply as a man could be
wounded and, being a man, he had to fight.

The
rooms were silent. The candles in the wall sconces flickered. I could hear the
carriage coming down the street, hooves clopping lightly on the cobblestones.
It stopped in front. Jeff came out of his office. He carried the leather box
that contained his pistols. His long black cloak billowed and spread out behind
him as he walked back down the hall toward me. He was no longer grim, merely
resigned. He looked very, very tired.

He
didn't even look at me. He moved on past and started toward the stairs, and my
grief was so overwhelming that I thought I must surely die of it. I moved to
the head of the stairs to watch him descend the last few steps. I seemed to be
trapped in the middle of a terrible dream. Jeff walked to the front door and
stepped outside. As he closed the door behind him, I stood there in a daze.
Listening to the carriage pull away, I felt as if my heart were being wrenched
from my body.

Several
minutes passed, and I didn't even hear Angie approaching. She took my hand and
squeezed it, and I looked at her with anguished eyes. She was fully dressed,
even though it was only a little after six. She led me back down the hall into
my sitting room and, as I sat on the sofa, handed me a glass of brandy.

"Drink
it, luv. It'll help."

"You
know," I said.

She
nodded. "Kyle told me."

"I
must go, Angie."

"You
can't."

"I
have to. I have to stop them."

"There's
nothing you can do."

"I've
got to go. Something dreadful is going to happen. I feel it. I've felt it for a
long time. I—I had the feeling before. I felt something catastrophic was going
to happen, and then Derek turned up and—and I thought that was it. It wasn't.
It was
this.
This is the catastrophe. I've got to stop it."

"It's
too late. There's no way—"

I
set the brandy down and stood up abruptly. "I'll go to the livery stable.
Someone will be up at this hour. Yes —yes, Kyle would have awakened them when
he fetched the carriage. I—I'll hire a carriage."

"Marietta—"

"I've
got
to, Angie!"

Angie
saw there was no way she could dissuade me. She sighed.

"Very
well," she said. "You'd better let me go for the carriage. You're in
no shape to do it yourself. I'll get that young Teddy Blake to drive us. He
won't like the idea, not at this hour of the morning, but I imagine I can
persuade him. I'll be back with the carriage in less than ten minutes. Wash
your face. Pull yourself together."

"I'll
try, Angie. Do hurry."

"I'll
run all the way, luv."

She
left, and I washed my face with cool water, and I did calm down. I forced back
the emotions that had almost overwhelmed me. Jeff was determined to go through
with it, and I was just as determined to stop it. I would. Somehow. Jeff was
beyond reason, but there was still Derek. He would listen to me. He must. He
hadn't wanted to duel in the first place, had refused to until Jeff slapped
him. That slap had been a terrible insult, but I would make him listen to me. I
would make him give up the duel.

I
went downstairs and stepped outside to wait for the carriage. The sky was
dark-gray now, no longer black, and the stars were gone. Up and down the street
the buildings were shrouded with heavy shadows, and there was a thin, wispy fog
that swirled slowly in the air like smoke. The chill of night hadn't yet
vanished, and I shivered just a little, but I didn't go back in to fetch a cloak.
I waited, growing more and more impatient, fear and panic close to the surface
again.