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46: An heir, maybe
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Promised to the father, married to the son 47: Collapse
*Skye* May arrives with warmer weather than usual. I can’t bear the thought of cleaning rooms when I can enjoy the sun warming my face. Kneeling, inhaling deeply, I take satisfaction in the fragrance of freshly turned earth. Except for a brief respite for lunch, I have spent the day working on bringing the garden back to life. The next time we have guests, I want to be able to invite them for tea on the terrace. So earlier this morning, once Ben left for the mines, I went into the village, visited with those who have gorgeous flowers blooming, and asked for some cuttings from their favorite plants. I have never been the beneficiary of such generosity from strangers, and I left feeling as though I were accepted by the villagers, as though I truly belong here. Then when I returned to the house I set the servants to work. The servants and stable boys are making great progress hacking at the brambles and overgrowth. The maids are pulling up the unwanted vegetation. Marsden, bless him,
Promised to the father, married to the son 48: Back home
*Ben* I sink down into the hot water. Trapped inside the mine, surrounded by darkness, thoughts of Skye provided a light for my soul as I encouraged the other five men entombed with me to work to dig themselves out. I had never contemplated not finding freedom, never considered death as an avenue for escape, because it would have kept me from her. When I came out of the mine and saw her rushing toward me, the joy that spiraled through me had been unsettling. She is coming to mean too much, and yet I can’t quite push back the emotions, no matter how dangerous or risky to my sanity they may be. Love was not in the cards, I still do not want it to be, but I am not longer sure that I have any control over what cards I am being dealt. Now hearing the door open, I glance back over my shoulder. I shouldn’t be so grateful for Skye’s arrival, but damn if I am not. “I thought you could use a drink,” she says as she hands me a glass filled with amber liquid. “Indeed I could.” I swall
Promised to the father, married to the son 49: New York
*Skye* A month later, as the car rolls into New York, I fight to keep my apprehension hidden. Long, slow, deep breaths have been the order of the journey. As well as a mantra commanding myself to relax. It is highly unlikely that I will cross paths with Montie, that he will discover I returned. And if he does, it is possible that he wouldn’t care after all these months. He has no doubt forgotten all about me, moved on to someone else. He has never been one to do without and he likes nothing more than a woman’s company. In order not to forgo pleasure, he would have replaced me quickly enough. I am rather certain of that fact, as I no longer have any delusions regarding what I had meant to him: nothing particularly special. In truth, Ben makes me feel more treasured than Montie ever had. “Where did you live?” At the unexpected question disturbing the quiet, I jerk my attention to my husband, who sits across from me. We have spoken very little during the journey, which suited me, as
Promised to the father, married to the son 50: Missing her
*Ben* I have always enjoyed spending time at the Twin Dragons, especially after the owner, opened the place up to women. The establishment offers gambling, a ballroom, a dining room, a gathering room for all members, and an assortment of areas designated for only men or only women. So one can mix with the fairer sex if one is of a mind or seeks less exciting company. I opt for the less exciting company. More than that, I opt for a less exciting activity: sitting in the gentlemen’s room and indulging in scotch. I could have done the same in my own library. I gave a game of cards a go, but I had quickly become bored with the task. Generally I relish pitting my skills against others’ talents, but I found myself constantly wishing that Skye were sitting beside me. With her ability not to give anything away, I suspect she would come away with a good portion of the winnings. It is the fact that she is so good at not revealing herself that makes me know something is amiss in New York. I
Promised to the father, married to the son 51: Rushing in
*Skye* While Ben left me feeling sated, I have been unable to fall asleep after he left. I have rung for Cullie and dressed for dinner, although I do not much like dining alone. Now feeling rather like a wraith, I wander through the hallways striving to get a better sense of the place. The difference between this residence and the country one is striking. Not a single door is locked. I don’t need keys to access anything. Every room, even the ones not in use, holds flowers. But they don’t hold what I am truly searching for: company. I miss Ben, damn it all. Something about the night makes me all the more lonely and bereft, makes me question if I should be here not so much in New York, but with him. While living in New York, I harbored so many dreams of love. Once I left, I thought I would give up on them, but they are working hard to surface. The love of my child would be enough to sustain me, or so I hoped, because I am finding myself yearning for the love of a man. I make my wa
Promised to the father, married to the son 52: Belonging together
*Ben* She is mine. I almost say aloud the words that reverberate through my soul. She belongs to me in the same manner that clouds belong to the sky and leaves to the trees and ore to the earth, part and parcel, a piece of the whole. I am not one for poetry, yet for her I wish I had the ability to write sonnets. I wish I had met her at a ball, had courted her properly with flowers, strolls, and rides in the park. But romantic gestures are as foreign to me as love. I have never wanted emotional entanglements, yet I can’t deny that she has the ability to tie me up in knots. Sliding my mouth from hers, I graze my lips along the underside of her chin, relishing her soft moan. She is so quick to burn. I love that about her. From the beginning she has never played hard to get in the bedchamber. She welcomes me, responds, and gives back. Is it possible to love things about a person without loving the person? So many things about her brings me pleasure. The way she laughs. The way her ey
Promised to the father, married to the son 53: Her Old home
*Skye* I should have made an excuse to avoid coming to New York, but the truth is that sooner or later, I have to return and confront my demons. Sooner is better; I need to get it behind me. I ask the driver to take me to a dressmaker's … one of the more posh establishments that cater to rich upper east side ladies, according to the gossip pages … and tell him to return for me in four hours. Once I'm fitted for a lilac ball gown and another blue gown, I walk out and hire a taxi to bring me to the outskirts of New York. I regret that the blue gown won't look exactly like the one before it, but what I described to the seamstress doesn't look quite right when she finished sketching it out. Still, I can't risk going to Lola, the woman I used before, I can't take a chance on someone recognizing me, spreading the word that I'm here, and the truth of my past coming to light. Lola's clients don't include noble ladies, but those for whom she does sew clothing keep quite a few aristocratic
Promised to the father, married to the son 54: His gift
*Skye* "I like your new blue gown," Ben says. Tugging on my gloves at the dressing table, I glance over to my husband standing in the doorway that joins our two bedchambers. Dressed in his evening finery that includes a black swallow-tailed coat and waistcoat, a pristine white shirt and a light gray tie, he's no doubt the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. "It's not exactly like the one before it," I say, wondering how it is that after all these months he still manages to take my breath away. "Close enough. A shame your previous seamstress closed up shop." He says softly. I recall the small lie I had told to explain why I was going to a different dressmaker. "I like the new one I have found." "Good." His stride is slow, lazy, as he approaches. "Also a shame you must wear gloves." "It's a proper ball. A proper lady wears proper gloves to a proper ball." As though to demonstrate, I give a gentle tug on the end of each glove where it rests just above my elbow. We have
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