Chapter 9 Katherine—My Repentance Starts Now
KATHERINE—MY REPENTANCE STARTS NOW
My beautiful little girl, the child I nursed in secret, who I held when fevered or scared, looks at me with venom. I want to tell her how sorry I am and explain that I never meant to hurt her, but she doesn’t stop moving.
My heart seizes, squeezing to nothing as she stands before me like a stranger. Her grandmother keeps her walking straight at me to escape.
This woman will raise my child. She’s Lydia’s guardian, and my lies give her no reason to be lenient. “Lady Hampton,” she says in a cool tone.
“My apologies, ma’am.” I block the path and humble myself, kneeling to Lydia’s small height. “I’m so sorry.”
My arms open wide to hug her, but Lydia stands still like a statue.
She’s so upset; her rich brown cheeks are red. She could get sick. Dropping my hands, I glance at the white rya carpeting, which hides the dark mahogany like it’s ugly or a mistake. “May I comfort you in this moment?”
“Nyet.” She reviles me and hurries past.
“Time. We all need time. Even the woman who took years from my son.” The princess shakes her head and chases after my daughter. Their shoes click along the corridor and then become silent. Then there’s nothing but the moan of tears.
My heart lodges in my throat. It should strangle me.
“Come inside, Katherine.” Scarlett brings a teakettle like it’s a censer or fumigator pot.
It scents the room with earthiness, spice, and even sweetness.
I want it to cleanse the hard feelings—the deserved hard feelings that Jahleel must have for me.
She lets the red-colored tea sit in a bowl on a close bed table.
A ladle lies there, too, ready to serve.
Scarlett’s eyes have rings. She doesn’t rest.
Jahleel’s gaze seems to move, up to the colorful ceiling. His lips are so pale. A day or two without sun always robbed him of color. Tiny memories of him and us, lying together looking up at the sky, bubble up from my soul. His smile was lazy and full as I curled into his arms by the Neva River.
I’ll never forget the way he cradled me, so strong and tight, or how I cradled him in the dacha by the river. We’d just loved each other in the dark; then he trembled from the pain of this sickness.
“Katherine, come in or go out. I want the temperature to be consistent. Stephen is afraid of the duke catching pneumonia.”
My sister sounds as serious and angry as Lydia. I shake free of the past, step fully inside, and pull the door closed. The thud says it’s too late to run.
Scarlett ladles Jahleel some of her tea. The molasses smell floats to me. My sister brews hope and strength in her pots.
He slurps slowly, finishing about half a cup’s worth. “More. You need more, Your Grace, for a proper dose.” Her voice is so gentle. Too gentle. It scares me.
“Nyet, my dear.” He pushes the ladle away. “I wish to be lucid a little longer.” He winces and offers a moan. I remember that sound and the way his lips pressed together as he buried himself in our love.
“Not dead yet, Lady Hampton. Don’t look so hopeless. It can still happen.”
“No. Sorry. This room. It is so huge. And it mirrors where we spent our wedding night at the Winter Palace.”
“Admitting to such in front of a witness? Are you sure, Madame Carew, that I’m awake? Dreams can be vivid and filled with deception.”
“You’re awake, Your Grace.” She groans, maybe grinding her teeth. “Very awake.”
Why couldn’t this be a cold or the seasonal sneezing he proclaimed … not the thing that killed Mama?
“Lady Hampton, I’m not at my best. Say what you came to say. Or leave knowing that, for now, the father of your living child still breathes. Cross this visit off your busy list and be gone. Do svidaniya.”
“Jahleel, don’t joke. I’m not thinking of work.”
“No jest here,” he says. “I’m sure there’s coal to be sold.” He tugs at his robe like he wishes to be free of it. “Madame Carew, send for Steele. I want a bath. A change of clothes.”
Scarlett tucks the covers about him. “When my husband returns, we will consider it. He didn’t think it wise yet.”
Jahleel flings his head back like he’s tired of everything.
Beneath the robe peeks the collar of a nightshirt. Jahleel never slept in one. Brazen nakedness was how he wished it. No wonder we had twins so quickly.
Feeling fevered from the images of him, me, and St. Petersburg, I fan my face and then drop my silly hands to my side. “I need to be useful to you.”
Stepping around my sister, I lean over him and free one shoulder out of the fine white linen sleeve.
He doesn’t complain. His hazel eyes become glued to my face.
Then he clasps my hand and draws my fingers away. “Sweat on your brow. Fevered, too, Lady Hampton? I should be honored you found time to come. So many other things an enterprising woman could do.”
“My list says to be here. Knowing my sister, she’s not been out of this room. She needs a respite.”
Scarlett’s gaze shifts between us like the pendulum on our father’s longcase clock. She dips her cloth in the closer bowl. “No, Katherine. I’m fine. His Grace doesn’t need to be upset.”
She begins mopping his brow.
A shaking hand stretches past and grasps my sister’s.
“Give Lady Hampton and me a moment of privacy. She’s not here to smother me.
Pretty sure. But if she does, have the valet immediately change me into something blue, more regal.
My dream. You wear the last thing you have on when you die. Tavis still had the ghastly sheet.”
“You dreamed of Tavis?” Both Scarlett and I say this.
“He comes in dreams like I owe him something.” Jahleel fans his robe. “Don’t want to be in this for eternity. Actually, Katia, if you’ve come to murder me, could you dress me first? I think that’s how Tavis said the afterlife works.”
Scarlett grimaces. “The wild-lettuce tea confuses his speech. He’s said a lot of interesting things about you and Tavis and the Palmerses.”
My cheeks burn at what might’ve been voiced by Jahleel’s memories. “Let me sit with you, Your Grace. I’ll promise to be attentive—”
“Don’t make promises, Lady Hampton, especially ones you have no intention of keeping. We’ve done that before.”
I raise my hand to my heart like I’m swearing an oath. “I will mop your temples and promise not to murder you … today.”
He chuckles and nods to my sister.
Scarlett dips her chin. At this moment, I’m reminded of how close the two are. Lydia won’t be the only one to hate me if Jahleel doesn’t recover.
She waves me to take her seat.
The padding feels warm as I ease into it. “I will care for him like I should’ve.”
I remove the cloth from her fingers and put it in the bowl again. As gently as I can, I pat his brow.
Jahleel purrs like my kitten. “At least you will send me off smiling, Katia.”
My sister hesitates at the ornate footboard. There’s genuine fear in her eyes. Is she scared that Jahleel will die in the next moment, or is this for me? She knows how much I’ve already hurt him.
I want to scream and insist I’ve come in peace, but her caution is deserved. “I will care for him, Scarlett. Please trust me.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She walks away, yawning. The door makes a soft screech behind her.
I wring the cloth and try to put it again on his brow, but he catches my fingers. The grip is as light as my Lada’s. Georgina’s feeding her in the kitchen. My younger sister is too scared to come. “Yes, Jahleel.”
He swallows hard. “Tell me why you are here, Lady Hampton. Talk.”
“Let me mop your brow. You’re quite warm.”
He relents and lets go. I take the damp cloth and pat his face.
“Katia, I’ve wanted you in my chambers for a while. Never pictured it like this. You fully dressed. Guess beggars cannot be choosy or choosers. Or whatever.”
“When have you ever been a beggar? Jahleel, your mother is the daughter of the tzar’s favorite godson. You’ve never been desperate or so scared you lost your reason.”
His eyes close. He winces, then whispers, “Try begging for your life upon occasion. Humbles a proud man.”
“I have begged for others’ lives—my mother’s, Lydia’s, my brother, Scotland’s, our son’s.”
His eyes open. His hands fist. “At least you can say that aloud now.”
I stare at him, this man I loved so much, the man sentenced to suffer until the blood sickness wins. “I should’ve, but I forced myself to hate you—”
“Good job. No one has hated me more.”
A deep sigh releases as Jahleel fidgets and pushes the cover down, exposing more of his chest. The sweat-damp nightshirt plasters against him like glue.
He’s leaner than ever. Yet I see the slight definition of muscles above his wide bony ribs.
“You’re pale. You need sun.”
“Won’t get out today. I hear the dawn is beautiful.”
“You must make it to dawn. And I … I’m sorry.”
He turns his face away. “Of course you are. Everyone cries when they’re caught.”
A shiver crosses my arms. He doesn’t believe me. “It’s your turn to hate me. You have every right to do so.”
Jahleel grunts. “No more hating. I’m sick to death … to life of it.”
“Truly, am sorry.”
He groans and shifts. “Sorry for what, Lady Hampton?”
“For everything. And you’ve won our bet. Jahleel, the smartest man in the world, has successfully gotten my two sisters married to husbands who adore them.” I clap, a half-hearted offering, but my palms redden.
He starts to laugh, then coughs, then stills. My breath catches in the back of my throat. I don’t release it, not until I see his chest rise.
“Huzzah. You give me credit for Georgina’s marriage. My being sick and pathetic has made you generous. Do go on, Lady Hampton.”
“You brought Lord Mark Sebastian into our lives. You defended their love against the awful Marquess of Prahmn. You brought Scarlett and Stephen together. I only wish the Carews could enjoy being newlyweds. He’s off to see patients.”
He fusses again with his robe. “More accolades? I shouldn’t be deprived of hearing your sweet voice—”
“Beg?”
“What is it you fully British say, the slipper is on the other foot? I forgave you for not telling me about my son or where he was so callously buried. The living daughter part is harder, much harder.”
“My mother didn’t want a scandal. We did the best we could.”
“A scandal of your making. You left me, but we did not divorce.”
“I did the Cossack thing: I ran into the streets and straight to the River Neva. In public, I shouted that we were done.”
He chuckles again as his pretty eyes shut. “Guess we weren’t, not with my children in your womb. The minute you knew, you could’ve sent word. You’ve always known where I was.”
“Yes. Cold St. Petersburg or here in London, proclaiming to the newspapermen and the courts that you were as good as the rest, the lousy ton who held the race of your beautiful mother against you—a regal Blackamoor woman. You didn’t need the same miserable people attacking and depriving you because of me. ”
His lids rise. Angry hazel daggers shoot into my heart. “You lied for my benefit? Deprived me of years—years I’ll never get back—with my daughter, all for me? How fortunate I am.”
The glare freezes me. He’s so still. Then he takes a long, shuddering breath. “But why should I be angry? My fault for loving so impulsively.” Tears stream down his cheeks. “My mother tried to warn me against being so careless.”
“But you did love me. And you won the bet. I will marry you like you originally wanted.”
He grunts and holds his side.
“You’re in pain. What can I do?”
“Pain? Yes, in more ways than one. Go, Katherine. I’m done with you. A dead man has no wife.”
My eyes sting like he’s cursed at me. But he’s too gentle for that. “Jahleel, you want me to leave?”
“Yes, Lady Hampton, go. We are finally done. Go … with no ill will.”
Even now, he’s nobler than I’ll ever be. Not a foul word from his lips. No damning me to hell.
But I can’t leave. I’m too afraid Jahleel will stop breathing. I wait to see him fill his lungs one more time.