Ophelia (5 page)

Saturday

May 5, 2004

“You
couldn’t
possibly
think I’d approve.”

Ophelia opened her eyes long enough to determine the owner of
the voice, then squeezed them shut.

“You cannot
possibly
think that I
would believe that you are standing beside my bed. Especially at half four on
the morning of my handfasting.”

“Eduardo isn’t here,” Norman replied in a voice that was
almost cheery…for him. “He had to go to the bathroom suddenly. And I think he
fell asleep on the toilet.”

“I am still dreaming,”
Ophelia
murmured, rolling over.
“You are not here.”

There was a moment of silence, in which the bride-to-be
relaxed and drifted toward sleep. Until she was jolted by a resounding crash.

“I do not think I want to know what that
was.”

“Your fiancé just fell off the toilet.” Norman said
gleefully. “Further proof why I don’t want shit in my bloodline.”

Ophelia murmured something that sounded distinctively like
“not shit”.

“You may think you love him,” he continued, as if he hadn’t
heard. “That he’ll make perfect babies…but that isn’t worth anything to anyone.
If you’re
that
desperate to marry, put a tuxedo on Westbrooke.”

The young woman turned back to her father’s apparition.
“What happened to your rule about never marrying servants or others
who are baseborn?”

“Better one that I handpicked to look after you than the
lowlife you call your fiancé.”

Ophelia was about to argue the point when Eduardo returned
from the bathroom.

“Everything okay,
corazón
?”

“Fine,”
Ophelia muttered into the
pillow.
“Strange dreams.”

~*~

You
don’t listen very well, do you?

Ophelia’s scream was so loud; the hairstylist jumped and
collided with the bride’s mother.

“What’s wrong?” Emily asked as she picked herself up off the
ground.

“Could you give us a couple of minutes?”
Ophelia asked the stylist.
“And send my stepfather in on your
way out?”

Ophelia refused to meet Emily’s eye until Aidán arrived and
assured her that he had closed the tent against the outside world.

“I saw my father in the mirror.”

Her mother and stepfather shot each other anxious glances.

“Are you sure it’s not just stress?” Emily asked, changing to
Irish.

“I
am
under stress…and I have not
been sleeping well.”

“Nightmares?” Aidán queried.

Ophelia nodded.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Since Norman died,”
Ophelia
whispered.
“And they are not really nightmares. Some are…but
it is mostly
Athair
instructing me…reminding me of my obligations as his
heir.”

Aidán and Emmeline glanced at each other again, then moved to
the back of the tent to converse. By the time they finished, Ophelia was
watching their reflections apprehensively.

“We still think it is wedding stress,” her stepfather
announced.

“But if this persists throughout the honeymoon, we want you
to seek help as soon as you return to the States,” her mother added.

Both gave her a measured look before they slipped out of the
tent. The stylist returned a moment later. When Ophelia glanced back at the
mirror, she found her father scowling, as if he’d secretly been present for the
entire conversation.

~*~

“From
the first moment I saw you, I knew I had to meet you. Your models were
dazzling, but there was something in the way that you stood on the runway to
receive your applause that made my heart beat a little faster.

“I know we’ve had our problems, Ophelia, but I’m glad we
worked them out. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The mention of their premarital difficulties threw Ophelia
off so badly that it took her a few minutes to recover.

“Eduardo, I knew I loved you the day I met
you and I often think this must be a lovely dream. I am thrilled that you want
to spend the rest of your life with me,
Cariño
. Bearing in mind that
Goddess and family come first, I pledge to make you happy for all the rest of
my days.”

Ophelia had written those words before they separated and she
had never gotten around to changing them. Although they momentarily stung her
tongue, the words were not entirely meaningless. As long as counseling had
finally cured Eduardo of the notion that she loved her bodyguard, the words
would eventually come true.

The priestess and priest began their oration about the
journey upon which Eduardo and Ophelia were about to embark, the last before
they exchanged rings. Ophelia found her concentration waning after a few
minutes, distracted by the play of sunlight on the nearby reflecting pool.
Turning her head slightly, Ophelia thought she saw her father’s image in the
rippling water.

This is your
last
chance!
Norman’s voice hissed
inside her mind.
Marry Westbrooke or suffer the consequences!

Ophelia turned back toward the priest, clutching her bouquet
as if to defend against her father’s specter and offered no response.

Pasting on her brightest smile, she exchanged rings with Eduardo
a moment later. Emmeline stepped forward with a red ribbon to begin the binding
of hands, but the clouds sprang open with a sudden downpour. Paloma, Eduardo’s
mother, let out a shriek when she failed to get under the overhang in a timely
manner, causing her and the ivory ribbon she held to be drenched. Ophelia’s
smile only increased. The priestess had gotten her under cover quickly and
Emily was already binding Ophelia’s hand to Eduardo’s.

I may be
your
daughter
,
Ophelia thought.
But I am also the daughter
of the Goddess. And the Goddess
always
wins.

~*~

“The
nightmares I knew about, but this is the first I’ve heard of your visions.”
David’s voice grew stern. “I noticed you were distracted during the ceremony,
Ophelia. You were lucky Aidán and your mother didn’t notice.”

“Thank you for your sympathy,”
Ophelia said sarcastically.
“Now if you will excuse me, I
would like to go consummate my handfasting.”

She was nearly at the balcony door when her bodyguard lashed
out at her.

“Stop holding out on me!”

Ophelia sighed and leaned on the rail that separated David’s
balcony from her own.

“The nightmares I spoke of when we first
arrived in the States never went away.”

Her bodyguard’s silence had grown icy, but he made no attempt
to stop her.

“They have been joined by visions of my
athair
.
He is not always present, but he generally takes responsibility for them when
next he appears.”

“You’ve had nightmares and visions for two years and you
haven’t told a doctor?”

She shook her head.

“Ophelia, you could have a tumor!”

“
Máthair
and Aidán think it is merely
stress.”

“Not nearly two years’ worth!”

“When am I supposed to be examined?”
she demanded.
“I have an empire to run and an
atelier
to reopen as soon as possible!”

Ophelia barely noticed when David gave her a Look.

“If you think that I am going to interrupt a
lavish Thai honeymoon for an imaginary tumour that is clearly not metastatic,
then you are bloody mad!”

Friday,

May 14, 2004

“What
are you doing here?”

“My honeymoon is over.”
Ophelia
indicated the expanse of the mansion. “
And this is my home.”

Harry smirked. “Where’s your husband?”

“Eduardo flew back to Australia to ship the
last of our things.”

David bustled through the door then, causing Ophelia to
nearly trip over her suitcases in an effort to get out of the way.

“What is he doing here?” asked her bodyguard.

“I have not been able to get a straight
answer,”
Ophelia replied, glaring at her brother.

“I’m having a dinner party.”

“In
my
house?”

“Without your sister’s permission?” David added.

“As president of Osborn Scientific, I can hold company events
on any company-owned property.”

“The mansion is private property!” her bodyguard pointed out.

“Check the by-laws,” Harry said with a poisonous smile.

~*~

“Mrs.
Miraz! I didn’t know you were back.”

“I’m still going by Ms Osborn. My honeymoon
ended yesterday.”

“I know I shouldn’t be in here, but it is very crowded in the
parlor and Mr. Osborn said it’s going to be another twenty minutes until
dinner.”

Ophelia smiled as Dr. Welker plucked a stray crab cake from a
nearby platter and popped it into his mouth.

“That is not a problem—Mr Osborn did not
receive permission to hold a dinner in my home.”

Richard’s eyebrows flew toward his hairline. “I’m sorry. I…I
didn’t know.”

“You are welcome to stay.”
Ophelia
gestured to the opposite end of the kitchen, where the chef was placing the
rest of the garnish.
“It is almost time.”

The doctor beamed. “May I escort you into the dining room,
Ms. Osborn?”

She took his proffered arm.
“I would be
delighted
to accompany you!”

Despite
her brother’s disdain, Ophelia was treated as if the party had been her idea
all along. An additional chair appeared, but when it came time to be seated,
Harry went for the head of the table. Dr. Welker and a few of the more
outspoken gentlemen reminded him that, as chief executive officer and chief
science officer, his sister was entitled to sit in the place of honor. Harry
glared, but no one seemed to notice in the flurry to claim their seats.
Grumbling, Harry was shunted to the foot of the table by the ominous appearance
of Ophelia’s bodyguard.

Ophelia quickly struck up a conversation, alternating between
business with Dr. Welker on her left and wedding questions with the vice
president of research and development on her right. She was about to take
another bite of her Caesar salad when she saw the vice president raise her
glass.

“Do not drink that.”

“I beg your pardon?” Monica Wells blinked as if she had been
struck.

“Do not drink that,”
Ophelia
repeated, nodding to Monica’s glass of champagne. She glanced at Dr. Welker.

“Do not drink that. In fact…”

Ophelia raised her voice:
“No one touch the
champagne!”

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded.

“I will deal with you in a moment. Mr
Bernard?”

“Yes, Ms. Ophelia?”

“Call emergency services—we will need the
Gardaí
and the ambulance immediately
.” The young woman rose and moved closer to
her bodyguard.

“If you have not consumed champagne this
evening, please go home at once. The rest of you, stay here—the paramedics will
need to examine you.”

Ophelia felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to discover
Andrew Whitaker standing next to David. She’d suspected that he’d been tailing
her while in Phuket—apparently, he was still on assignment.

“Do you need me to do anything, Ms. Osborn?”

“Come with me. I am going to speak with
Harry. David, will you keep an eye on the guests?”

He nodded as Andrew took Ophelia by the hand and led her to
her brother. She tried to focus on the other end of the room, but it was hard
not to notice that some of the remaining guests were beginning to slump in
their chairs.

“Are you on narcotics again?”
she
asked her brother in a low voice.

“No!”

“His eyes are red,” Andrew pointed out.

“Harold, if you do not tell me the truth,
the
gardaí
will pull it out of you!”

“Do you want to lose your company?” he asked.

“I am in no danger of that.”

“If you call the paramedics, you will.”

A light went on in Ophelia’s eyes.
“There
are other ways to eliminate the competition. I hear…what is it the Americans
call it? Mudslinging? I hear that is very effective.”

“Did you see some of the people that walked out of here
tonight? They were disappointed that they couldn’t get a piece of the family
fortune! They’re on the streets right now, besmirching the name of House Osborn
because of your charade!”

A moan escaped one of the guests, then, and Ophelia turned to
examine the woman. After a moment, she took the pulse of another guest and
started cursing her brother in vivid Spanish.

“What are you
doing
?!”

“I do not need a diagnostics class to know
that this woman has about ten minutes to live!”
Ophelia barked.

Before she could elaborate, David hurried up to her.

“The ambulance is here.”

“What about the
gardaí
?”