Chapter twelve
Katrina had seen the Horseman’s face. It had been a shrouded haze of an outline, but she couldn’t refute what she’d seen. All night, she pondered the moment his hand connected with her cheek. Did her touch inspire his face to reappear?
What could it mean?
A faint meow jolted Katrina from her reflections. She looked around the dining room, half-expecting to see Smudge weaving between the chairs, but he was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, she sipped her hot chocolate.
The house was unusually silent. She sat alone, as Mother tended to some errands and Father was undoubtedly occupied with overseeing the shipyard, busy with the merchants coming down the Hudson River. Greta placed a plate of cinnamon scones served with clotted cream and jam in front of her.
“Here you go, miss,” she said.
Katrina thanked her, and Greta excused herself, leaving her with her thoughts about the Horseman and his elusive face.
As she continued to ponder, another meow and scratching sounded.
She lowered her scone and peered around the room once more, trying to locate the source.
Perhaps he was outside and asking to come in, but when she looked through the window, Smudge was not there.
When the meows grew louder and more urgent, she stood and raced toward the sound. The paintings and mirrors on the walls blurred as she rushed into the halls, only pausing to see if she was getting any closer to his location.
“Smudge?” she called out.
A shrill mew answered, and she pressed her ear against her father’s study. Smudge’s frantic cries rang behind the wall, and without hesitation, she threw the doors open. Large, orange eyes met hers, and she sighed.
“Oh heavens,” she said, crouching before the black cat. He purred, vibrating like an ecstatic beehive when she petted him. “How long have you been trapped in here? Did Father forget you?”
He rubbed his cheek against her hand in response, and she scratched under his chin. Something caught her eye beyond the eager cat, and she gasped. Loose papers were scattered on the ground, and ink spilled over the desk, dripping onto the floor.
“Oh, you’ve been naughty,” she scolded him with a tap on his nose. He blinked at her innocently.
Sighing, she righted the inkwell and grimaced at the black liquid seeping into the floral rug.
Greta would not be pleased, but perhaps she could offer to assist her with removing the stain.
Katrina crouched, picking up the various papers, until her hand hovered over a document.
As her eyes scanned the words, her breath quickened.
A chill coated her skin with dread.
“Katrina, dear? Where are you?” a voice called out, but she could not move. Her gaze remained glued to the paper beneath her trembling hands. “Katrina? Oh, there you are. Why are you in here?”
Mother stepped into the study, and Smudge pranced away, as if sensing the tension thickening the room.
“Oh dear. What a mess.” Mother tutted behind her.
Katrina slowly stood, extending the document. “What is this?” she asked, her voice quivering.
Mother’s brows pinched in confusion as she peered at the paper before a resigned sigh escaped her lips. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We didn’t wish to trouble you.”
“Why does this say Papa’s health is failing?” she demanded, the document crinkling beneath her fingers. “What are you hiding?”
Mother gestured to the chair. “Perhaps you should sit down.”
“No, tell me what is happening!”
Mother inhaled deeply, her expression calm. “Your father has been dealing with shortness of breath. The doctors believe it to be a disease in his lungs. A wasting disease.”
“Wasting disease?” Katrina echoed dumbly. The two words dug a hollow pit in the depths of her stomach.
“They don’t know how much time he has. It could be years or months. They are unsure. Though at the very worst, it could be within weeks if the disease is worse than they can see.”
“Weeks? But—how?” The floor tilted beneath her, and her vision clouded like an underwater dream. “No, that’s not right.”
“He tires more easily. There’s no telling how far advanced he may waste away. We must prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”
“But… why is he working, then?”
“You know how your father is.” Mother sighed. “He’ll keep working until he is no longer able. Today has been a good day for him.”
“How long have you known?” Katrina asked. A numbness tingled through every limb, and she blinked at the odd way her mind detached itself from her spinning thoughts.
“At the start of the year.”
“All this time?” she asked. It was no wonder her father had been pressuring her to marry so suddenly. She had thought it was due to her age, but she hadn’t understood the urgency. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? When were you planning on telling me?”
“Soon. But we didn’t wish to worry you or put too much pressure on you.” Mother said with a frown, emphasizing the worried lines around her mouth. “He has been doing all right for himself until these last few weeks. We do not know if the end is near.”
Tears pressed into Katrina’s eyes, sliding silently down her cheeks. She still hadn’t healed from her brother’s death after fourteen years. How was she to accept her father’s passing as well?
“Your father is concerned for the future—yours and this estate’s.”
“He wishes me to marry,” Katrina said, her voice a hoarse whisper.
Mother nodded. “Yes. And Brom is a good man. Your father wishes to see you secure and happy before he is to pass.”
Katrina shook her head, unable to process the flood of emotions drowning her in despair.
“I will not be happy with Brom,” Katrina admitted miserably. Her chin quivered, but she steadied herself, staring into the floral pattern of the rug.
“I’m sorry, my dear. You know you are short of options,” Mother said.
“Because of Brom,” Katrina snapped, her eyes flashing.
The anger felt like a comforting anchor in the depths of her pain.
She hadn’t believed her parents would care for her personal feelings, so she did not wish to fight them in a battle she would not win, but now there was no reason to hold back.
“He has scared off any potential suitor I could have had in this town. And now the young men are either too frightened or already matched and married. Why must you expect me to marry someone like that? I do not love him, and I do not wish to marry him.”
“But do you fancy any of those other young men?” Mother asked softly, unfazed by her outburst. “Would you be happy with anyone else?”
Katrina’s breath snagged in her throat as a slippery thought whispered I would… with—
Shaking her head, she closed her eyes against the impossible wish. No matter where she turned, she could not have what her heart desired.
“No,” Katrina replied. “I would not.”
“Then you know what you must do,” Mother said sympathetically. “This is unfair to ask of you, but you are the only hope we have of securing this estate—the legacy of your forebear.”
Katrina’s hands flew to her face, unable to keep the flood of emotions at bay.
A muffled sob tore from her throat at the unfairness of it all—of her father’s impending passing to the loveless marriage she must bind herself to.
Soft footsteps approached, and something warm and soft wrapped around her.
With a sob, Katrina threw herself into her mother’s embrace.
“It’s all right,” Mother whispered, her voice cracking. Her fingers smoothed Katrina’s hair comfortingly. “Everything will be all right.”
Another cry wrenched from Katrina’s lips, and the medical document slipped from her fingers. If there were one thing she knew for certain, nothing would ever be right in the world again.