Sea Fire (6 page)

“Daughter,” the letter began. “It grieves me very much to be the bearer of tidings I can only describe as ill, but I have just come into some information that I feel should be passed on to you without delay. It is my hope that you can rectify what has happened without too much harm to your spirits or station in life, or that of your son or husband.

“Cathy, my dear, when I arranged for your marriage to be performed by Captain Winslow on the
Lady Chester,
I naturally assumed that he was, as such officers are, duly authorized to perform a legal ceremony. I am certain that he assumed the same, so no blame lies at his door. But the unwelcome fact, of which I have just been apprised, is that Captain Winslow had been removed from his post by the Crown prior to solemnizing your vows. The ceremony, therefore, was not legal, and your marriage to Jonathan Hale has never, in actuality, existed.”

The letter continued briefly, advising Cathy and Jon to marry again without delay in order to legitimatize Cray’s birth. Cathy was so stunned by what she had read that she could barely take any of it in. Finally the writing trailed off into a long squiggle, and Cathy vaguely registered that it must have been there that her father had the attack.

“Jon and I are not married! Cray is—God forgive me—a bastard!” The words ran over and over again through her shocked brain. When finally she lifted her eyes from the paper to look at Mason, their expression was dazed.

“Mason. . . .” Her voice sounded strangled. “Mason, are you aware of what this says?”

“Yes, Miss Cathy,” he answered compassionately as he met Cathy’s ravaged gaze. “We found the letter after Sir Thomas had the attack. It must have been as great a shock to him as it is to you.”

“Yes, of course.” Cathy saw what must have happened with great clarity. Her
father, made aware of this information, must have been horrified beyond expression to realize that his only daughter, instead of being happily married as he had thought, was in fact living with a man as his mistress, however unwittingly. And Cray—Sir Thomas adored his grandson. He would have been devastated to realize that the child was illegitimate. As Cathy considered the ramifications, she blanched. If this news ever became public, she would be regarded as a fallen woman, no longer welcome in the homes of her friends and acquaintances. It would put her beyond the pale: society offered no forgiveness for women who had “gone wrong,” as they put it. And Cray would no longer be his father’s legal son, no longer his heir, but a bastard! Cathy felt sick.

“Are you all right, Miss Cathy?” Mason inquired anxiously as she swayed.

“Mason, please fetch Martha. I think I’m going to be ill,” Cathy managed to say with some semblance of calm. Then, as Mason hurried to do her bidding, her trembling knees refused to support her any longer, and she sank down upon the rug.

T
he next few days passed in something of a blur for Cathy. Her every instinct urged her to write to Jon, advising him of what had happened. Only the fear that such a letter would bring him post-haste to England stayed her hand. She would have to go home, she realized, to set matters right, but she hated to leave her father who, contrary to his doctor’s expectations, was showing some slight improvement. Martha was as upset as she was, and together they discussed the problem at length. They both agreed that Jon, once the circumstances were made known to him, would immediately wed her again, and set about legitimatizing Cray. Cathy had no doubts at all on that score. But she could not feel comfortable until she was Jon’s legal wife. She was torn between her fear for
her father and an overwhelming urge to fly back to the love and security that only Jon could offer.

To Cathy’s amazement, her Aunt Elizabeth was unexpectedly kind. She neither reviled her niece as a harlot, nor denounced Cray as something worse. Perhaps her brother’s illness had mellowed the woman, who could say? One thing was certain, two years ago she would not have been so understanding. She would have considered Cathy and Cray a blot on the Aldley family escutcheon, and taken no pains to hide it. Cathy knew that her aunt felt no particular affection for her, so she was at a loss to explain the woman’s seeming tolerance. Then, as days passed, Lady Stanhope began to drop subtle hints that gave Cathy the first inkling of what was in her mind.

“As I’ve always said, things tend to work out for the best,” said her aunt with a sigh as Cathy took tea with her in the small withdrawing room one dreary afternoon.

Cathy looked up rather vaguely at this. Lady Stanhope, seeing that her niece was being annoyingly obtuse, pushed on a little further.

“I daresay you don’t know this, my dear girl, but your father and I always shared this absurd fantasy. After Harold was born, and then you, we used to think that perhaps, one day, the two of you might marry each other. At one time it was Thomas’ dearest wish, and mine too.”

“As you say, Aunt, an absurd fantasy,” Cathy responded, her attention sharpening. Why bring this up now? If Sir Thomas had indeed ever entertained such a notion, it must have been years before. And she tended to doubt that he ever had. He didn’t approve of cousins marrying, as a general rule.

“Not quite so absurd as all that.” Lady Stanhope gave an annoyed titter. “After all, you and Harold could almost be said to be ideally suited! He is just the right age for you, my dear, at seven years older—I always think it is nice if the man is enough older than
his wife so that he may guide her! Both of you are from similar backgrounds, both attractive, charming people. . . .”

Here Cathy interrupted, taking just an instant to marvel at the blindness of mother love. For surely only his mother could describe plump, pasty-faced Harold as either attractive or charming!

“There is really no point to this discussion, is there, Aunt? After all, any hopes you and my father may have shared must have been abandoned when I married Jon, if not before.”

“But that is exactly the point, Cathy!” Lady Stanhope, throwing prudence to the winds, replied eagerly. “You never really married that man! You have never been married! You are free to rectify the appalling mistake forced upon you by circumstances! Harold and I have discussed it, and we have agreed: it is the hand of God! He is giving you a second chance, Cathy!”

Cathy was torn between anger and amusement. “But I don’t want a second chance, Aunt, although I thank Him very much if that is what He had in mind. As soon as I return to South Carolina, I intend to marry Jon without delay. I thought you understood that.”

Lady Stanhope was experienced enough at getting her own way to know when to retreat. “It seems such a waste,” was all she said, and then, to Cathy’s relief, the subject was allowed to drop.

It wasn’t until much later, when Cathy was keeping her nightly vigil in a chair drawn up beside her father’s bed, that the conversation recurred to her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that her Aunt Elizabeth had provided an explanation for what had been puzzling her: the Stanhopes, mother and son, were being so uncharacteristically tolerant of her unconventional situation because they hoped to persuade her to marry Harold! But why? She and Harold had despised each other from the time of their first meeting, and although Cathy had
occasionally seen a hot gleam in his eyes as he looked at her, physical desire for her body was certainly not reason enough to make Harold want to marry her! His consequence was such that he would certainly feel himself slighted if the bride he eventually took to bed was not a blushing virgin from one of England’s best families. It didn’t make any sense. Still feeling uneasy, Cathy tried to dismiss the whole notion as something she had conjured up out of thin air and a touch of paranoia. But she resolved to ask Dr. Bowen the very next day about the possibility of leaving for the States in the very near future, and taking her father with her.

It was Harold himself who kept her faint suspicions alive. He was so polite, seeming to bend over backward to run little errands for her, bringing her the latest novels to read as she kept watch beside her father’s bed, even purchasing a toy for Cray in a transparent attempt to ingratiate himself. Cathy received these offerings with a cool indifference that seemed to nonplus him. Instead of being grateful for the attentions of a high-born man-about-town, as Harold plainly considered himself to be, she quite frankly turned up her nose at him.

When Dr. Bowen reluctantly agreed that Sir Thomas could be removed to the States to convalesce, Cathy was inwardly jubilant. She was in a fever to go home again, to be held tightly in Jon’s arms, to have this whole nightmarish episode behind her. Cray missed his father, and Cathy missed her husband—or husband-to-be, as it turned out. Feeling almost lightheaded with relief, Cathy giggled. Perhaps when they married this time, they could have a proper honeymoon. She would play the shy, modest bride to the hilt, while he—Cathy giggled again. This long separation would spur him to positive virtuosity in the role of the virile, desiring bridegroom!

Martha was strongly approving of Cathy’s decision to leave for South Carolina as soon as arrangements could be made. Unlike Cathy, who had been too wrapped up in her worries over her father’s illness and her non-marriage to see what was as plain
as the nose on her face, Martha had noticed much that was not to her liking. For one thing, Lord Harold, when Cathy wasn’t looking at him, watched the girl with an open lust that scandalized Martha to the roots of her gray hair. For another, Lady Stanhope, who Martha knew from experience was a conscienceless, self-serving, haughty lady at the best of times, was so sweet to Cathy it was frightening. And for a third, there were rumors below stairs that the Stanhopes were well on their way to being financially embarrassed. Add all that together, and in Martha’s opinion it equalled trouble. It would be far better for all of them if they were to get Miss Cathy well away.

Mason, when Martha confided her worries to her old ally, agreed with her wholeheartedly. Together they contrived to keep an eye on Cathy as unobtrusively as possible. To Martha’s way of thinking, there was no point in worrying the girl more than she was already, so neither she nor Mason said anything to her on the subject. But whenever Lord Harold was in the house, one or the other of them made it a point to stay at Miss Cathy’s side.

Cathy, meanwhile, purchased accommodations for herself, her father, Martha, Mason, and Cray on a ship scheduled to leave London five weeks almost to the day after she and Martha and Cray had arrived. That done, she felt better, and was able to entertain with some equanimity her aunt’s suggestion that she join the small gathering that Lady Stanhope was hostessing that evening. With less than a week remaining of her time in England, Lady Stanhope argued, it would be a shame if Cathy did not enjoy herself a little. Besides, “That old talk about your being still unwed while you were with child has not completely died,” Lady Stanhope said severely. “And your disappearing like that certainly did nothing to help. It was all most embarrassing! Still, I don’t mean to reproach you. But you must see that it does your reputation no good not to go about a little in society when it is well known that you are staying in
my house. I wish you will think of me, and my dear Harold, a little. Harold is very desirous of obtaining a political appointment, you know, and that old scandal can do him no good. You wouldn’t want to stand in Harold’s way, would you, Cathy?”

To tell the truth, Cathy didn’t mind standing in Harold’s way at all, but it would hardly be polite to say so. As no other excuse occurred to her on the spur of the moment, she saw nothing for it but to agree to be present.

The rest of the afternoon Cathy spent with her father, who had longer and longer periods of consciousness. Although he was still incredibly weak, and unable to move his right side at all, he recognized Cathy and took great pleasure in her company. A visit from Cray was the highlight of his day, but Cathy took care to keep these short. Sir Thomas was still not out of danger, and the least bit of excitement, according to Dr. Bowen, might precipitate another attack. For that reason, Cathy made no mention of Jon, or her bogus marriage. Apparently the attack had blocked the events immediately preceding it from Sir Thomas’ mind. He had no memory of the disaster that had befallen her, and Cathy was content to keep it that way.

When Mason brought his supper tray and Cathy got up to leave, explaining that she would be dining in company that evening, Sir Thomas was delighted. In his slurred speech he told her that it would do her good to see someone besides an old gentleman like himself, whom she was closeted with all day.

“You’re looking peaky, daughter, and no mistake. You’re young, should be having fun. Not looking after a sick old man. . . .”

“Oh, Papa, I love looking after you,” Cathy reproached affectionately, touched by his concern for her. “Besides, you’re certainly not a sick old man. When you get well again you’ll have all the ladies in Charleston battering down Woodham’s doors. We’ll
have to ask you to leave just to get some peace.”

Sir Thomas chuckled. It was the first time he had laughed since his attack, and Cathy felt a sudden soaring of hope. Perhaps with time he would recover fully. After all, doctors weren’t infallible. Already he was so much better than he had been when she came. Now all they had to do was spare him any more shocks. . . .