Chapter 6 Katherine, Anya House—Arrival of Doom
KATHERINE, ANYA HOUSE—ARRIVAL OF DOOM
My horse heads my dray toward Anya House. The sky remains gray and dark, like a sheet ready to fall upon the dead. Georgina convinced me to visit the duke and try to beg forgiveness. I fear I’m too late.
Mr. Thom, my faithful employee at Wilcox Coal, sits in the rear seat, grinning. “My sons are returning from the Continent. They served under Commander William St. Landon. Miss Georgina read me their letter; she told me to expect them soon. I hope I can see them in their uniforms.”
“Yes. We received it last week when everything was normal.” My sister, Georgina, frets across from me, twiddling her thumbs. “Mr. Thom, do you know what they will do once they return?”
“Hmmm. Not sure. The world don’t treat all the sons who served equally.”
Thom’s sons are patriots, but I wonder what opportunities they will have. Some don’t respect Blackamoors, even when they fight for our king. “They used to drive drays for Papa,” I say, then add, “I know the duke will find them something.”
Georgina bows her head. “We can’t hold a conversation without acknowledging how much the Duke of Torrance has affected our lives for the good.”
“Yes,” Thom says. “And he’s going to get me operated on at Anya House. I’m going to be able to see again.”
“What?” I pull to the side of the road. “Thom? Georgina? What surgery? Why didn’t you tell me Jahleel is helping?”
He waves his hand at me. “Oh, you’re back to being on a first-name basis with him. Scarlett told me ’bout the duke. He’s going to be alright. He’s pulled through many times.”
My heart, which barely seems to beat, stops. “What do you mean, ‘many times’?”
Mr. Thom starts to chuckle. “Scarlett keeps me informed.” He folds his arms against his jet-colored mantle.
“The man’s been sick a number of times last year.
Pretty bad ones. But Scarlett keeps trying new things on him to get well and stay well.
That’s why I know this operation she figured out will work. ”
“I don’t understand. Georgina?”
My sister looks distraught as if she’d bite her nails if she didn’t wear gloves. Well, Georgie is the panicking one. “So a procedure,” she says, “a surgery, you’re not scared?”
“Sure I am. But you keep trying. I might be old, but I’m goin’ to get my boys settled.” He nods to himself. “The duke ain’t give up trying. I’m sure of that.”
Georgina grabs my wrist. “Let’s be as brave as Mr. Thom and the duke, Katherine. Let’s get going.”
She’s right.
Everyone’s right but me. And no one tells me anything unless it’s about Wilcox Coal. I’d let it burn to the ground if it wasn’t our father’s. I tug at the reins and get my mare moving. Soon, too soon, we enter Anya House’s drive. Mr. Carew’s carriage is there.
Memories flash in my mind of seeing his vehicle arrive out front of Ground Street. “He will always be associated with sickness.”
“Who are you talking about, Katherine?” My sister shifts closer. “Mr. Carew, or the duke?”
Before I can answer, Mr. Benjamin, Mr. Carew’s driver, comes from the house. He looks in our direction, shakes his head, and then turns away.
I can’t move.
Cut directly by a servant is a sign—a bad, bad sign. My fingers curl tighter about the reins. “Guess everyone knows of my scandal.”
“Katherine, let’s go inside and see.” Georgina adjusts her blue bonnet. The dried lilacs decorating the brim look festive; there’s nothing mournful or sorrowful about them. “Remember, it’s not what others think. It’s about Lydia and the duke.” She begins to rise.
“Wait, Georgie.” My fingers remain tightly wrapped on the reins. “Everything changes when we walk through those doors.”
She sits back, smoothing her pale blue skirts. “Everything has already changed.”
“Help me inside,” Mr. Thom says. “I’m ready to get this procedure done and see what I can see. My sons are counting on me.”
My sister scrambles down and leads him.
I refuse to budge and stare at the kitten asleep at my feet. The mangy little thing looks peaceful.
Mr. Benjamin’s loud voice echoes. He’s speaking with one of Jahleel’s grooms as they change harnesses to the physician’s carriage.
My gaze follows Mr. Thom and Georgina to the double entry doors. No black armbands. None of the footmen standing guard have them. I must believe nothing has happened—no death.
The grooms finish fixing Carew’s carriage. I don’t move. I’m mesmerized by how Jahleel has made this magnificent house look like the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, the place where I met him.
The resemblance cannot be by happenstance.
And I never mention the changes or construction.
I can’t comment on the past, but this is his way of slowly torturing my heart.
He knows how special I felt being admitted to those gilded halls.
I was Cinderella or Vasilisa trying to enter the ball.
The guards wouldn’t accept my invitation.
I don’t know what happened to my chaperones or Tavis. They would have shown our credentials.
But they were all missing.
My heart pounded as the guards sought to turn me away, but Jahleel Charles intervened.
Handsome and gallant, he removed all obstacles and escorted me inside. Did he know what it meant to be favored, to be on his arm, to meet people important to the tzar?
Glancing at the yellow chrysanthemums and flowers that decorated the palace, I think of my mother. Mums were her favorite.
The flowers wave. They’re in full bloom.
My sister returns. “Katherine, I’ve taken Mr. Thom inside. Mr. Carew will lead him to a room in the servant wing. Katherine?”
“All this time, the duke’s been trying to recreate the moment we fell in love.”
“What, Katherine? What are you mumbling?”
“This is the Winter Palace, Georgie. He’s made Anya House look like the moment I became so smitten with Jahleel I couldn’t think straight.”
Georgina cocks her head to the side like the large bonnet has weighed down her neck. “The duke has made no secret of being in love with you.”
“I guess he gave up waiting. He’s involved one of the king’s barristers to make me concede.”
“Katherine, what are you babbling about? Are you well?”
“I should’ve given in when you wed. Then, I’d not have to come here begging for forgiveness. I’d be at Jahleel’s side comforting him. Now I’m the beggar who stole his happiness.”
She grasps my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “The man is upstairs fighting for his life. I don’t need you down here losing your senses.”
“You don’t understand.” I swipe at my wet eyes. “No one understands.”
“One man might, Katherine. In my note, I requested Scarlett to let you see him.”
I’m shaking. “No, you didn’t, Georgie!”
“Yes, I did. You get to make amends or at least start. Then we both will pray for him to live, for Lydia’s sake and ours.”
A breeze filters the honeyed fragrance of frankincense and chamomile to my nose. Then I remember that scent surrounding me in the gardens of the Winter Palace.
A first kiss—Jahleel’s arms became tight about me, supporting me as if I could float away.
His hazel eyes filled with mischief and more.
His mouth formed words of love, some French, others English and Russian.
He whispered compliments and debated his heart out loud.
In two days, he’d already confessed his love.
I couldn’t understand it all, but everything felt perfect. We had a future. Or so I thought.
“Can I be that woman again, the woman Jahleel loves?”
“Do you want to be? Katherine, you’ve made no secret in hating him. But you two have to reconcile or we will never reconcile with Lydia.”
“My baby? Did you see her?”
“No. She’s upstairs with the duke.” Georgina looks down. “Get out of the carriage. Come, let’s go see him.”
“Jahleel has to be alright. How else can I make things up to him? I’m ready to yield.”
The breeze makes the yellow floppy petals of the flowers swing. They wave me into Anya House. “Mama sent a sign. I can do this. I’ll be strong like Papa. I’ll make you both proud again.”
“Katherine? Katherine. You’re scaring me.” She clutches my fingers. “Easy now. We can do this. Leave the dray.”
I give the dray’s reins to a groom.
She draws me closer. “All will be well. Remember how many scares Mama had, but she always pulled through. She lived—”
“Lived into her forties. Jahleel is now in his late thirties. That’s five more good years. He should’ve told me. He should’ve given me the choice.”
“Katherine?” For a moment, she puts her hand to her mouth. “I’m just going to say this: You’re not mad at him for being ill. You’ve been mad at the duke because he didn’t tell you he was ill. Which is it?”
I can’t look at my sister. Instead, I barge forward, barreling past the pungent chrysanthemums and the memories, and walk into the long, gilded hall.
Gold trim plasters every wall. Emerald-green malachite marble columns buttress the doors to the drawing room where balls and the duke’s science meetings take place.
My heart beats fast. “Did Jahleel use up his energy overseeing all these designs? He loves marble. I’ll bet the marker he put on our son’s tomb is Carrera marble. That’s the most expensive.”
“Tomb? Your son’s … oh … his son, too. The grave, next to our parents’ plots.”
My face feels wet. “Andrew’s grave. His name is now Andrew, after Jahleel’s father.”
I turn to the grand stairs. “Jahleel should be well and down those steps. Remember how he makes a grand entrance? A new cane. Playing with Lydia on the top step.”
Wiping tears from my eyes, I shout, “I’m ready! Ready to be done with all the fighting! I surrender!”
My voice echoes. Servants stop in their duties and stare.
Georgie grabs my arm and drags me into the first room. It’s a parlor, one of the seldom used rooms in Anya House.