Page 49 of Fragile Wicked Things
"Yes, he is their cousin."
"I know of only one outside of South Carolina. A nasty sort who gambled away the family fortune, wasting it on spirits and women. He had a son."
"I'm sure you speak of another Kilbarry."
"I saw you, watched the way you looked at him. It is natural that you should behave in such a manner when a gentleman shows interest, but you mustn't be so public about it. It is not appropriate until you are ready to wed..."
"But I am ready. You always spoke of it."
"That was before."
"Before what?" I reached across for his hand.
"Before…" His voice faltered and softened, and the words came out slow and calculated. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman, Catherine. I'm not ready to have you leave me, not yet, not now when I need you the most. I wasn’t the man I wished to be all the years you were gone. I’m afraid he’ll return. It’s you that impedes the darkness."
"You speak of nonsense," I assured him. "Say you’ll be pleased when I wed."
He withdrew himself from my grasp but kept his black eyes on me. He replied with such wickedness, "I shall wish for blindness."
Fifteen
The following night, I waited for James by Boré's tomb as he had asked. It was smaller than I expected for the first mayor of New Orleans; the wrought iron fence rusted, and I ran my fingers along the metal cross built into the gate. A couple strolled by. The woman, dressed in black, leaned against the man, his arm around her in a silent comfort. When they passed me, I felt relieved not to be alone, and I watched them walk away and turn a corner, and then they were gone. A slight wind blew up the bottom of my skirt, swept dirt across the pathway and swirled debris into a corner against another tombstone. Death surrounded me. How moronic a place to meet someone, given my fear, and I wondered why I had ever agreed to such a thing. A twig cracked under the weight of someone's foot, but I still played with the cross, pretending not to know James stood behind me until I felt him brush the back of my dress, and I turned around in a hurry. I let out a pretend scream.
"Naughty boy. You frightened me," I said, my head down, my lips pouting.
"Did I really scare you?" There was a hint of excitement to his question.
It was the first time I had snuck off to meet a boy, the first time I had lied to Edward. I said I was invited to join a New Orleans Women’s Auxiliary branch, a younger group that encouraged charity work. I even made up a name for the charity, but later, I realized my mistake. What if Edward looked into it and found no such charity existed? And then there was poor Giovanni who had to take me into the city. At least I was able to convince him to return home, saying I was certain to get a ride from one of the other members. I’d waited until he rode off before I ducked away. Any amount of guilt I felt was pushed aside the moment I saw James under the light of that full moon. My, he was handsome and to think he had chosen me of all the young girls at the ball.
James pulled a flower from his inside pocket, and offered it to me and I took it, twirling it in my fingers while we walked along the path. He pointed to various tombstones, giving me a history lesson with each one, entertaining me with elaborate stories that I didn't think were truthful. James teased me, enraptured me, whispered in my ear with talk of things I knew nothing about, and by the time we reached the outskirts of the cemetery on Basin Street, we were on to world affairs and philosophy. He would confuse me, have me question my fundamental beliefs and see the world in a different light.
Each outing with James grew more difficult to arrange than the last and I ran out of excuses, oh, but what pleasure it was to see him, to be wooed by him, to become one and experience what it felt to be loved. During public events, James would slip love notes and I hid them in my sleeve to open later. I received dozens of them, at the museum, at the teahouse and once he even slipped me a love note while I attended a function held by the New Orleans Women's Auxiliary. I snuck into the ladies' room, sat in a chair by the window and unfolded his letter. James’s words poured out while I read; I could hear him whisper that he desired me, loved me, that all the gods transpired for us to be together as man and wife.
The secrecy continued for several weeks. Guilt has a funny way of catching up, and I knew the courtship was a betrayal to Edward. Eventually, I made James promise to go to Edward to ask for my hand in marriage, if indeed that was what he desired. I refused to see him again until he fulfilled his promise.
When the post arrived, I snatched the letters from Giovanni and flipped through them searching for James’s handwriting. Each day led to disappointment and I thought myself a fool for being too earnest and pushing James away. My heart broke to the point that when the post did arrive, I no longer grabbed the letters from Giovanni and moped about the house all day. Sprawled atop the sofa in the drawing room, I swung my foot in the air as it hung over the edge and stared out the window, fingering the fringes on the drape. Giovanni startled me when he cleared his throat, letting me know of his presence. He laid the post down on a small table and walked away, closing the door behind him. My heart raced. My thoughts were all jumbled. Once I could stand it no longer, I went to pick up the letters, flipping through them until I found James’s handwriting. First, I covered the envelope in kisses, then embraced it and, when that wasn't enough, I jumped up and down.
"Tonight. Edward will read the letter tonight."
Edward read the post in the evenings after he'd awoken and so I placed the letters on a small table by the fireside where he liked to sit. James’s letter sat on top, then I thought better of it and placed it in the middle. Later in the day, I returned to the letters and fanned them out on a silver tray. It seemed too obvious a display and I shuffled the letters about, eyes closed, then placed them back down, not knowing where James’s letter lay in the pile.
Later that evening, I played with my food at the dining table. I picked it up with my fork, pushed it aside, grabbed bread, and picked at it until I had a mound of crumbs on my plate.
"Catherine, you're not eating," Edward said
"I'm not hungry. Let's go into the drawing room and sit by the fire."
"I'm not finished, and we have dessert tonight. A special treat. You don't seem excited."
"I'm sorry. It's my stomach."
"Is it upset? Would you rather go to bed?"
"No! I'm fine." I couldn't well tell him the problem with my stomach was the butterflies fluttering around. I said, "You received a few letters today."
"I doubt there's anything of interest. Another dinner invitation to another dull evening with…who will it be this time? Mr. and Mrs. Lovell and their unmarried daughters? Or perhaps the Callahans?"
"Don't you wish to marry?"
