Page 54 of Fragile Wicked Things
"I wrote to Edward to tell him the good news about the baby."
"Tell me you did no such thing." The words came out barely a whisper and I fell into a chair. The baby kicked me. Was the baby angry at me that I should continue to break Edward's heart? It was already difficult for him that I belonged to another, then to be told I carried that man's child must have destroyed him. Placing my hand on my belly, I tried to calm my baby and later that night, I prayed for a boy. A girl would experience too much hardship in this life.
When the post arrived, James grabbed it first, shuffling through them until he found Edward's letter and ripped it open, pulled out the money and read the letter. He let out a low whistle. Most times, James went off with both the money and letter, but one morning he left it behind by accident, and I scooped it up without him noticing, hiding it in my pocket. Once he left, I looked out the window to make sure he walked down the block towards Skylar's Tavern, and when he disappeared around the corner, I waited a further five minutes before pulling the letter from my pocket. I read it by the window, comforted by Edward's handwriting and knowing that I touched something once held in his hands. It began "My Dearest Catherine." I could almost hear him say it and I yearned to hear him speak my name again.
My Dearest Catherine
I had hoped you would respond to my many letters. Every day, I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. When I think of your generosity and warmth, I believe—alas, I know—that this will happen one day.
I long to see you with a child in your arms and I promise to care for you both as I always did you. Honesty forces me to admit I never considered the possibility of watching you bear a child, for reasons you must now understand. How selfish it would have been for me to deny you this great pleasure that once consumed me long ago.
Return to Thornfield for it is your home and will be home to your husband and child. I will leave New Orleans for England soon and you will see me no more.
Forever yours,
Edward
Forever yours, I repeated the words in a whisper and held the letter close to my heart. How could I have been that enraptured in James to not think clearly? It was evident why James whistled earlier—he could return to New Orleans as master of the manor and secure his rightful place in society, a spot at a proper gambling table, unlike the dingy and precarious back-alley taverns he frequented in Charleston. All of his hard work had paid off and he could reap its rewards.
I would refuse to go. It was that simple and my mind was made up. What then? Was it really that simple? Could I tell James such a thing and risk his temper? It was true he had not struck me since he discovered the pregnancy, and I suspect it had to do with this plan of his to get money from Edward. Confusion tore at me and it seemed every time I came up with a solution, I realized there were no answers to my troubles. Leave, and I abandon my husband, the father of my child, to raise as a bastard, for that is how society would look upon the situation. Stay and I risk not just my life, but that of my unborn child, forced to beg for scraps again like I used to long ago. How could I give my child the life my mother had given me?
Time escaped me that day, and James returned earlier than usual. Dinner had not been prepared, and he questioned what I had been doing all day, his voice rising. He hesitated, reconsidered, and spoke softly, holding and kissing me.
"I had a good day today, a winning day. What do you say we go out for a proper meal, not like the ones you feed me? Oh, don't look offended. You were never taught to keep house. But that will change." James held my face in his hands, looking at me, head tilted. "Are you not curious as to why? Would you like to know what your clever husband has done to secure a future for us and our unborn child? I set about writing a letter to your dear Edward about his atrocious behavior towards his daughter. Now although you may not be of his flesh and blood, you are the only family known to him. I told him straight off that no man can provide for you the way he did and that no man should be expected to. A real father would ensure his daughter has the best of everything. Of course, he scoffed at this."
"You saw him? In person?"
"Uh, no, I meant I could imagine him scoffing while I read his letters. He's a deplorable man for not providing for his family, cutting us off from the riches that are too much for one man to enjoy in a thousand lifetimes. Oh, he tried arguing with me, steadfastly holding onto his selfishness, but eventually, my true virtue won out, and he rose to my moral ground. My dear Catherine, tonight we feast, for tomorrow we leave for Thornfield where I will be master of the estate. Why do you look at me with that face? You're white. Are you not pleased? Not good enough for you, is that it?"
"No, no, it...it's..." I stammered. I could not tell him I knew his grand story a lie and I wondered how many other lies he had told me during our courtship when he impressed upon me that he was of good character.
"Stop with the stuttering. You don't realize your own good fortune in marrying me, a man who could stand up to that Rochester. Do you think any other husband would have obtained Thornfield for you?" he said.
"I'm surprised, is all."
"Surprised? At what? Did you think me unable to provide for my family?"
"No, I didn't say that. I'm surprised that Edward has offered us Thornfield when he loves it, and I'm afraid there are many memories of him there, that it would always feel like his home, even with him in England."
The words slipped from my mouth before I had a chance to retrieve them.
"How did you know he was going to England?" James reached into his coat pocket, hands came out empty of what they were searching for. "Where's the letter?"
"What letter?"
"Edward's letter that came with the money this morning. I read it and I thought I had taken it with me."
"You could have left it somewhere. Retrace your steps..."
"I read the letter," he remembered, "and placed the letter down on the kitchen table. It's not there anymore. I'll ask you one more time. Where is the letter?"
"I don't know of any letter. Let's retrace your steps..."
James tore into our bedroom, tossed things about, and emptied drawers onto the floor. His face reddened, terrifying me.
I stood in the doorway, speaking in soft tones. "James, I didn't mean to upset you. Let's go out now and celebrate like you wanted. We'll think about Thornfield tomorrow."
Finding nothing, he looked around the room, his eyes resting on the wardrobe. James threw out my dresses, piling them into a mess on the floor. "I didn't buy you these things. Look at this one." He held in his hand the dress I wore to the ball where I first met James. "Not once did you wear this dress for me since we married. Instead, I had to look at you wearing those drab clothes."
