A Question of Class (23 page)

She was pleased to see him smile. He took the bottle, examining the label. “He served this at Carpenter’s ball. Let’s see if it’s the real thing.”

Benjamin uncorked the bottle while Catherine retrieved two glasses from the kitchen. His face lit up as he poured.

“You can see already, look at the deep plum color it has.” He took a sniff, then a taste, and pleasure radiated from his entire being.

“So he’s been saving the best for himself, I take it,” she said.

“Delcour may be a fiend, but he appreciates the finer things in life.”

Benjamin handed her a glass. The first sip reminded her of eating black currants on a summer day, and then, after she swallowed, silky warmth spread over her palate.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

The wine made her feel emboldened. She moved to him and reached up, touching his chin with her fingers, and then kissed him long and hard. She was rewarded with his response. His searching tongue met hers, the taste of wine on both their breaths.

Abruptly, he pulled back hard, and she fell the other way, knocking into the table and spilling the wine bottle.

She gasped and grabbed the bottle, but not before red stains spread over the muslin.

“Oh no, what a waste.” Catherine lifted up one end of the muslin, trying to keep the wine from spilling onto the floor. Several pieces of tea-colored paper fluttered to the ground. She knelt and picked up one. “What’s this?”

Benjamin knelt beside her and took it in his hand. “It’s a wine label.”

She could hear the excitement in his voice. But it wasn’t due to her kiss.

“These are the labels he uses on the inferior bottles,” he said.

Catherine drew back the muslin cloth. Over a dozen labels were neatly laid out on the top of the table. “But where did he get them?”

Benjamin fingered the paper in his hand. Catherine saw the number “1787” printed on the bottom of it, with an illustration of a chateau above it.

“He must have a lithograph set up somewhere,” he answered. “It’s how we produced labels at Pierre’s vineyard. Works like magic. All Delcour had to do was print them out, steam off the old labels, and slap on the new.”

“But where do you think the lithograph is?”

“Must be in the warehouse somewhere. Most likely hidden away from prying eyes.”

“Then why would he leave the labels here?”

Benjamin took a close look at the one in his hand. “Because they’re mistakes.”

Catherine looked over his shoulder.

“Do you see the illustration? It’s not quite right, only half of it is clear. And the word ‘Margaux’ is misspelled.”

“So these weren’t any good?”

“Exactly. But he probably wanted to keep hold of them, in case he could use them on other bottles and ship them off to customers who wouldn’t notice the errors.”

“Sounds like my husband.”

“Yes.”

He was looking at her oddly. She was ashamed of her awkward kiss, and glanced away.

“I guess you have proof now,” she said.

“I supposed I do. I’ll take a bottle of the real thing, along with the labels and the ledger to the magistrate, and they can take it from there.”

“Do you think they’ll believe you?”

“The magistrate was at the tasting at Carpenter’s ball. My guess is he bought a crate or two from Delcour, and will be interested in what I have to say.”

“I’m glad,” said Catherine.

It was over. They would have to part ways. She would miss him desperately. But there was no time to say any of this, or explain what she’d done, the mistakes she’d made.

She gathered up the wine labels while Benjamin selected another bottle from the shelves. Once upstairs, she watched as he placed the evidence in the satchel along with the ledger.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

His face hardened. Whether he was trying to hide his true emotions, or if he couldn’t wait to be out of her sight, she couldn’t tell.

“Goodbye,” he said. “You’ll be able to make it to your friend?”

“Of course. He’s close by.” She noticed his eye twitch. “We’ll be fine from here. And thank you for everything with Sophie.”

She watched from the front porch as he headed to the barn. Every muscle in her body longed to run after him and stop him, but instead she turned away. Sophie’s laugh drew her into the parlor, where she and Freddie were sitting side-by-side on the pianoforte and playing a silly tune.

“Look, Cathy, we made a song,” cried Sophie.

“It’s lovely, darling,” said Catherine. “Freddie, can you please fetch us some food from the kitchen? We’ll be leaving shortly and I’d like to bring something to eat with us. Do it quickly, as we don’t have much time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Freddie dashed downstairs.

Catherine sat on the sofa and patted the seat beside her. Sophie padded over.

“What do we do now?” asked Sophie.

“My dear, we’re about to begin a great adventure.”

Sophie bounced and clapped her hands. “I do love an adventure. Where will we be going?”

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to gather some of the silverware from the house, and we’ll use that to buy stage coach fare to Boston.”

“Why Boston?” asked Sophie.

“Because it’s far away from New York. From there, we’ll figure out how to book passage to France. Maybe I’ll work as a governess in order to make some money.” Catherine considered the idea as she said it. It might work, as long as Morris didn’t track her down, and she could write to Theodosia and ask her to provide a reference. “It may be difficult, but once we get to France, we’ll have a lovely time, I promise.”

Sophie gave Catherine a questioning look. “Why don’t we stay here?”

“Because my husband will return soon and I’d rather not have you meet him. He’s difficult, you see.”

“Like Mr. and Mrs. Allen?”

“Very much so,” said Catherine. “And I think we’ve both had more than enough of difficult types in our lives, right?”

Sophie nodded vigorously. “Yes. But we’ll be together, right?”

“Yes. We’ll be together. And we’ll learn all kinds of new things and eat foods we’ve never even heard of and meet lots of new people, all right?”

“That does sounds like fun.”

“Good.”

“Mr. Thomas,” cried Sophie.

Catherine turned her head in the direction of Sophie’s gaze and was stunned to see Benjamin standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Thomas, We’re going to go on a grand adventure to Boston and then to France.” Sophie turned to Catherine. “Can Mr. Thomas come with us?”

Catherine opened her mouth to answer but couldn’t form any words.

“I don’t understand.” His voice was livid. “Why the change in plans?

Catherine avoided answering. “What are you doing back?”

“In my rush I realized I hadn’t said goodbye to Sophie.”

“Sophie, off you go to help Freddie. Mr. Thomas and I need to speak.” Catherine waited until Sophie had left the room. She stood, remembering the first time she and Benjamin had been in this room, after her disastrous flight from the Mount. It seemed so long ago.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“I’m free to make whatever decision I think is best for me and my sister,” said Catherine. “It’s no longer any of your business.”

“So your story about going off to another beau, that was a lie?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that to me? And to yourself? Without protection, you’re putting yourself in great danger. And Sophie.”

“I have no choice,” she said, with a sudden charge of vehemence. Benjamin had no say in the matter, and it was infuriating he seemed to think he did. “What else would you have me do?”

“I’ll give you the labels. Take them to the magistrate and turn in your husband. Delcour will be sent to prison, the people he defrauded will receive compensation and, as his wife, you can take what’s left of Delcour’s fortune and begin again. Keep the Yquem, keep everything, but stand up to your husband.”

A sob rose up in her throat. She pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to tell him the truth. But Benjamin’s low opinion of her couldn’t get much lower. Or could it?

“As a matter of fact, I have no legal standing at all,” she said. “Your worst fears are true. Once you know the truth, you are free to leave me in disgust, and I hope you will, as I’ve had enough of this nonsense.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he asked.

“I am not his wife. I’m a mistress, no better than a whore.” She took a deep breath. “You see, I’m not Mrs. Delcour.”

18

Catherine ran up to her room. Benjamin followed, climbing the stairs after her, and when she tried to slam the door, he caught it and pushed it open. Catherine stood by the window overlooking the garden. She put both hands on the panes and laid her forehead against the glass. She was breathing heavily.

Benjamin collected his thoughts. If Catherine wasn’t married to Delcour, then she could be his. He was free to take her away, to be with her. But something didn’t make sense. Catherine didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d go along with such a scheme, pretending to be married. She was smart. There was no way she’d have acquiesced to a plan like that. Had she been so desperate to escape her situation with the Allens she could be bought for a falsehood?

When she turned around, her face was full of anguish. Benjamin wanted to take her in his arms, tell her it didn’t matter. But he needed to know more.

“Tell me why you’d be dishonest about something like this. Why would you lie? Was Delcour forcing you?” He half hoped this was true.

“No. I wasn’t forced into anything.”

Benjamin tried to hide the disappointment on his face.

“He tricked me,” she said.

“Explain to me how that could happen. You were tricked into believing you were married?”

She moved over to the divan and sat. Benjamin remained standing and suppressed the impulse to smash a nearby vase into the fireplace.

“We were on the ship, on the way to France, and I told him I wouldn’t be his plaything. He wanted to be with me, badly.” Her face was cold. “But I knew if that happened all would be lost. He’d discard me as soon as we reached the French shores. I understood what kind of man he was, even then. So I insisted we be married. And we were.”

“By the captain of the ship?”

“By the captain of the ship. It was a hurried affair, and we created quite a scandal among the first class passengers. Luckily there weren’t many.”

“So how can you say you weren’t married?”

“I thought we were, until last week, when Mr. Delcour informed me marriage ceremonies on merchant ships aren’t valid.”

Benjamin drew in his breath. “Scoundrel.”

“Quite. He knew the entire time. So you see, I’m not at all what you think I am.”

“And Delcour used that nugget of information once he’d tired of you?” asked Benjamin softly.

“Yes. Once he saw I wouldn’t do in New York.”

He moved over to the divan and sat next to her without touching her. “I’m so sorry.”

“As am I.”

“But why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Tears fell down her cheeks. “When I told Percy, his entire demeanor changed, and then he asked me to be his mistress. I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me the same way.”

“But I wouldn’t,” he said.

“I wanted to be independent for once. After the debacle with Delcour, and again with Percy, it was time to stand on my own. I didn’t want to rely on another man again in my life.”

“But everything we did together, rescuing Sophie, wasn’t that enough for you to be able to trust me? These past few days I’ve depended on you as much as you have on me.”