Gypsy Lady (46 page)

Once
the question of comfortable clothes was settled, she was able to take enjoyment
from Jason's guided tours of the plantation. Malelike, he took her first to
those places that he thought were important. Consequently, she saw the entire
workings of the plantation before she was able to rummage through the
fascinating objects that were to be found in the storeroom.

But
she wasn't so far removed from the Catherine who had ridden Sheba so wildly
over the hills of Leicestershire not to appreciate the stables and barns with
their sleek-spirited occupants. Entranced by the large, brick barn with its
clean-smelling hayloft and the new gleaming white buildings that housed several
of the horses bought in England, she nearly had to be dragged away by Jason.
Every now and then she would stop and stare at a horse that looked familiar,
but then decided it must be her imagination. She was like a child promised the
biggest sweet she could find, and happily she ambled throughout the complex of
barns, stables, and paddocks. She stopped often to speak knowledgeably with the
men who were busy about the area, and gleefully she offered an apple to a
haughty-nosed stallion. An indulgent smile on his face, Jason allowed her to
wander freely. Frequently he was amused at the searching questions she asked
the stablemen and often was surprised at her grasp of the intricacies of
breeding the spirited thoroughbreds. Secretly Jason hoped that someday these
thoroughbreds would make Terre du Coeur famous amongst the breeders in the
United States.

This
particular morning, they were walking slowly towards the last of the new
buildings, and Jason had explained he had planned it for the mares in foal or
newly foaled. It was set some distance away from the other buildings at the
edge of a large meadow, where already a few graceful mares with spindle-legged
foals at their sides grazed peacefully.

Catherine,
her arm linked companionably in his, her face shaded from the hot sun by a
delightfully feminine broad-brimmed hat, gave a sigh of sheer happiness.
"Oh, Jason, it's all so lovely. It's even more beautiful than Hunter's
Hill, and I never thought there could be any place I'd like better."

"It's
as well," he answered dryly. "Remember, this is your home from now
on."

For a
minute, a shadow crossed her vivid face. Wistfully she asked, "Will we
never go back?" Suddenly struck by another thought she inquired bluntly,
"What will happen to my lands? I hope to convince Rachael to stay in
America, and there will be no one in England to manage the estates."

His
expression thoughtful, Jason replied carefully, "We can put your property
in the hands-of a good estate agent, and I have relatives in England who will
be willing to keep a friendly eye overall. You won't get cheated, I'll see to
that! I imagine we will go back to England occasionally, so we can do our own
checking every now and then. Who knows," he finished flippantly, "we
may have a child who prefers England to America."

She
searched his face for a long moment before asking quietly, "Would it annoy
you if he did? After all, your roots are here."

Grinning
down into Catherine’s serious face, he lightly ran a finger down her straight
little nose and teased, "My dear woman, I intend fathering so many
children on you that having several clamoring for England would still leave
enough for Terre du Coeur!"

Torn
between the desire to laugh at his outrageous statement and pain that he should
so openly state his use for her, she managed an uncertain smile and said
briskly, "Never mind that! Show me this race course you said you were
having built."

The
course lay just beyond a small wooded area, and it was an incongruous sight in
the middle of the wilderness. At present only the track itself had been
cleared, and a rough wooden fence stood in place of the smooth white railings
that would eventually line it. Viewing it uncertainly, Catherine asked,
"Do you really intend to raise thoroughbreds and race them here?"

"Hmmm, why not?
All things have to start
somewhere. Besides, my disapproving madame, the horses are only my hobby. Don't
worry. Your bread and butter don't hinge on them!"

"I
wasn't worried about the financial end of things, and you know it! Why do you
twist everything I say?"

Staring
down into her stormy face, he laughed softly. "Because, my dear, it's so
seldom our thoughts run on the same course, I just automatically assumed you
would view it that way. I apologize."

At a
loss for words and not at all in the mood to start another useless argument,
she let her mouth relax in a smile and began to make her way back in the
direction of the brood mare barn.

The
woods were shaded and cool, and Catherine liked the sharp pungency of the pines
as she walked the narrow little path that led back towards the barns. The path
was edged with clumps of delicate wild star grass and scattered throughout the
forest were carpets of wild flowers, phlox, asters, and mint. A few splashes
still remained of the yellow jasmine that blooms in the spring, and Catherine,
her face framed by the floppy-brimmed straw hat and wearing a high-waisted gown
of lavender muslin, looked not unlike a wild flower herself.

Reaching
the building, Jason strolled on ahead, leaving her to walk the length of this,
the last stable, alone. She stopped occasionally to peer inside, noting the
roomy stalls. Jason was waiting for her near the last stall, leaning casually
against a post, his hands in his pockets and one booted foot crossed over the
other. In spite of his careless attitude Catherine thought she detected a
slight tenseness about him, but then the movement of the horse in the nearby
stall distracted her attention.

At
Catherine's approach, the mare abruptly left off nuzzling the ungainly heap of
long-legged horseflesh that was her son and stuck her shining black head over
the bottom half of the door. Frozen, Catherine stared at the familiar silken
muzzle.

"Sheba!"
she
whispered. As one in a daze, she drifted nearer to the horse. Almost
unbelievingly she ran one hand down the warm, black satin neck and after a
minute turned to face Jason. There were dozens of questions she wanted to ask,
but her tongue couldn't sort out which words to say first.

Taking
pity on her obvious astonishment, Jason sauntered up and said dryly,
"When I visited your mother after you first were missing, while I waited
for you to appear, I spent a great deal of time acquainting myself with your
stables. And as there was never any doubt in my mind that I would
eventually—ah—recover you and bring you to Louisiana, I saw no reason to leave
behind your extremely commendable stock of animals. Especially, I couldn't
bring myself to leave Sheba behind as she holds certain memories for me."

Vividly,
as if it had happened yesterday, Catherine remembered that day in the meadow
when he had first made her so vibrantly aware of his power over her body. The
fact that Jason remembered it too gave her a queer breathless feeling, and
suddenly shy of the emotion that his words created, she muttered, "I'm
awfully glad you brought her."

A
mocking glint of laughter in the green eyes, he teased, "Can't you do
better than that?"

Flushing,
she sent him a resentful look and replied, primly, "Thank you
very
much for bringing her over here.' His crack of
laughter did little to soothe her ruffled feelings, but determinedly she
asserted, "Really,
truly
I am
grateful!"

Shaking
his head, a tiny smile lingering about his lips, he guided her in the direction
of the big house and placing her hand on his arm, led her away, saying,
"You'll have to do better than
that-
—but
for now I'll let it be!"

He
made no further reference to it, but every morning from then on when she ran
down to offer Sheba some treat, she wondered anew at the motive that had been
behind his actions. He was being so kind lately. Yet,
kind
wasn't the right word.
Indulgent?
Perhaps.
Certainly, he had been considerate in
familiarizing her with the plantation.

For
several days she rode with him over the vast tract of land, and she looked
attentively as he pointed out the shallow valleys where the cattle grew fat on
the lush grass and where someday there might be cotton and sugar cane fields.
Some areas were already cleared and planted and she stared curiously at the acres
of bright green sugar cane planted near the river and the fields of cotton growing
on the higher drier ground. One afternoon they stopped on a slight rise and
looked back at the crops growing rapidly under the hot sun, and Catherine
breathed, "It looks almost like velvet."

Jason
smiled at the note of wonder in her voice. He has enjoyed these days with her
and was hopeful that at last they were about to reach an understanding. The
thought of Nicholas and the child's father could still fill his body with
black, "violent fury, but he had
her,
and
it appeared she wasn't finding his attentions too distasteful.

Jason
did not, as he had implied, share her room. Almost as if he knew how much she
hated and dreaded those times her body would without volition answer the
command of his, he refrained from forcing her to accept him in her bed. And
Catherine was grateful for it even if puzzled and suspicious.

Sally,
the young Negro girl Jason had thrust at her when they started the journey to
Terre du Coeur, had become inordinately fond of Nicholas. So fond, in fact,
she became exceedingly jealous of anyone, even Catherine, having anything to do
with that young man, and so Jeanne was once more acting as lady's maid for
Catherine. And as Jeanne and Catherine were extremely attached to each other,
Jeanne's role was more companion than maid.

Having
satisfied himself that his wife was fairly knowledgeable about her new home,
Jason finally showed her the storerooms. What a wealth of treasure she found
there! Any object through three generations that had not found favor with the
Beauvias women or their husbands had been sent off to become moldy and gather
dust at Terre du Coeur. Catherine could almost imagine one of Jason's relatives
saying, "After all, one can't throw it away, but perhaps someone will find
a use for it someday!" And as each succeeding generation had not bothered
to inventory what was already stored, but had merely added to it, the result
was chaos.

Catherine
discovered in a carton perched precariously on the arm of an ugly,
old-fashioned chair, a set of lovely Baccarat crystal that Antonia had
detested. Jeanne stumbled over a gorgeous set of fine English bone china that
had been a wedding present to Jason's parents, but Guy had never cared for the
pattern of delicate green and gold leaves that adorned it.

Some
things were badly damaged, including several paintings. Viewing them in the
strong sunlight and recognizing drab colors and insipid themes, Catherine was
happy to add them to the growing to-be-burned pile. But the sight of a really
fine Spanish carpet, badly eaten by moths and rats, depressed her. It would
have looked just right in the main salon.

Jason
took such disasters indifferently, and when Catherine continued to mourn its
loss, he said casually, "Make a list of the things you want, including the
damned carpets, and I can send it back with Blood Drinker!"

Surprised,
she asked, "Is he going back to Natchez?"

"Not
Natchez, my love. New Orleans. There are certain things I need, and he and
several of the men are leaving in a few days."

It
was as yet early evening, but they had just finished dining and were still in
the dining room. The room was large, and they were seated at opposite ends of
the table separated by a snowy expanse of linen tablecloth. Catherine had
found the tablecloth in an old trunk, as well as the matching pair of silver
and crystal candelabras that decorated the table. Viewing Jason's face in the
flickering light from the candles, she wondered if she would ever know him.

Even
though things were much better between them, they were still at an impasse,
neither willing to be the one to bring up any personal or explosive subject.

Within
reason, Jason gave her anything she wished. She had a lovely home that he was
perfectly agreeable to let her do with as she willed, she had servants to answer
her smallest request, and certainly he made no demands on her.

She
knew he was busy with the plantation; he had been working especially hard for
several days now in the clearing of a new section that was to be planted in
cotton next year. And before fall, the cattle that roamed in those open valleys
had to be branded, and some were to be culled from the herd and sold in New
Orleans. Jason was indeed a busy man, and Catherine wondered a bit wistfully if
that was why he did not seek out her bed. Not that she wanted him there, she
reminded herself hastily.