Gregory, Lisa (13 page)

"If
you don't mind, Papa, I think I shall go home now. I must have a little time to
think before the lieutenant calls."

"Of
course, my dear."

Katherine,
her tumbled-down hair hidden by her bonnet and cloak, started for home, but
partway there suddenly turned and headed for a poorer, though carefully kept,
section of Boston. Coming to a small, clean red brick house, she knocked on the
big brass knocker. Moments later, the door opened to reveal a tiny,
white-haired woman with bright black eyes.

"Katherine!"
she cried, holding out her hands.

"Oh,
Betsy." Katherine rushed into her old housekeeper's arms. "Betsy, I
have the most dreadful problem."

"Why,
my dear, you've been crying. Whatever is the matter?"

Betsy
guided her into a neat little yellow and white kitchen and seated her at the
table, with a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies before her, just as
she had always done.

"Now
tell me all about it," she said, comfortably settling herself into a chair
across the table.

Her
tale of woe tumbled out—the lieutenant, his proposal, her feelings for him, the
Rebel raider captain (the latter a carefully expurgated account, since she
could not reveal, even to Betsy, that more had happened than that he had kissed
her).

"Now,
now," Betsy soothed. "It doesn't sound so terrible."

"Oh,
Betsy, you don't understand!" Katherine wailed. "I hate him. He's
everything that I despise—cruel, hard, rude, insolent, no respect for me or any
woman. And yet I enjoyed his kiss! What kind of person does that make me? I
can't marry Lieutenant Perkins and let him discover this wanton streak in me.
Yet he is the perfect husband for me—only I don't love him. But I don't want to
be an old maid, with nothing in my life but teas and charities and gossip. I
want—oh, I don't know what I want. I can't think straight." Her jumbled thoughts
poured out.

Betsy
patted Katherine's hand consolingly. "Katherine, I have never seen you so
confused and disorganized. I think it can indicate only one thing: you are in
love."

"Nonsense."

"Not
at all. You're all confused and upset because for the first time your emotions
are engaged. You aren't used to having your feelings try to control you, and so
it makes you upset, and you try to fight it—and wind up feeling worse than
ever."

"But
surely I would
know
if I were in love."

"Sometimes
people just don't realize it. Or they won't admit it. But if you aren't in love
with Lieutenant Perkins, why should you feel all this turmoil? It seems to me
that you would be able to make your usual clear, rational decision."

Katherine
stared at her, considering.

"You
have always had a great deal of love in you, Katherine, but you have been
forced to restrain it. Now, when I was a girl, things weren't as strict as they
are now, even in Boston. People didn't go around pretending they didn't enjoy
kisses. Of course, one must not give in to one's impulses and be sinful and
allow a man liberties before one is married, but it's a normal and fine part of
marriage. My guess is that you really want to kiss your young lieutenant."
She paused.

"Well,
I have wondered what it would be like," Katherine admitted.

Betsy
bobbed her white head in emphasis. "Perfectly natural. You must restrain
yourself until marriage, of course. But this silly notion that a young girl
shouldn't even want to be kissed is sheer nonsense. You love the young man and
want him to kiss you, only you won't admit it."

"But
what about Captain Hampton?"

"Oh,
him!" Betsy sniffed. "You see, Lieutenant Perkins is a fine young man
who respects you and wants to marry you. He wouldn't dream of compromising you.
So though he no doubt wants you, he will wait until after you are married.
Whereas that Hampton fellow is one of those wild Southerners who has no respect
for anything. He wants to kiss you and so he does, with no thought to your
reputation. And you enjoyed it—there's nothing wrong in that. It would be
sinful, of course, to give way to your passion, but it's only natural to feel
it. Particularly when you are desirous of being kissed—even though by a
different man."

Katherine
traced a tiny crack in the table with her finger, mulling over what the old
woman had said. It made sense in a strange way. If Betsy said it was all right,
then it must be. Perhaps she did love the lieutenant; perhaps that was the
reason for her turbulent feelings; perhaps she had enjoyed the captain's advances
because she wanted Perkins to do those things to her.

"But
what should I do?" she said finally.

"Why,
accept your lieutenant. You must channel these instincts of yours into their
proper outlet. I think you love him, but even if you don't, you still have the
basis of a good marriage. I came to love my husband more and more every year of
our marriage. And it will be the same for you, my dear. Marry Lieutenant
Perkins. And steel yourself against Hampton. Don't allow him to make any more
advances to you. He has no love for you, no respect, and you no love for him.
It would be wrong to let him have his way with you."

Katherine
drew a deep breath. "You're right, of course, Betsy. I shall be quite
chilly and remote with Captain Hampton, and should he try again, he will find
there is quite a bit of fight in me. And I think that I shall accept Lieutenant
Perkins."

Betsy,
seeing Katherine's chin lift in her usual determined way, beamed. "I am
sure you are doing the right thing."

Her
mind made up, Katherine cheerfully settled down to enjoy her chocolate, sugar
cookies, and a good gossip. She left an hour later and returned home where
Pegeen, somewhat puzzled at her mistress's erratic behavior, was nevertheless
pleased to hear that she had decided to accept Lieutenant Perkins's proposal.
The maid skillfully redid Katherine's hair, and then Katherine retired to the
library to read while she awaited Lieutenant Perkins. Pegeen could only shake
her head in wonder at the other girl's calm. If it had been she, Pegeen knew,
she would have been all in a dither.

Lieutenant
Perkins fortunately called during Aunt Amelia's afternoon nap, and Pegeen, who
opened the door to him, quickly ushered him into the library before any of the
other servants could see him. Then she took up her post at the foot of the
stairs, where she could distract Miss Fritham if she came down from her room.

When
Pegeen quietly closed the library door behind him, Perkins paused uncertainly.
Katherine arose from her large leather chair, greeting him with a smile and an
outstretched hand.

"Why,
Lieutenant," she cried when he took her hand, "your hand is as cold
as ice."

He
managed a weak grin. "Frankly, Miss Devereaux, I am scared to death."

"Of
what?"

"Your
refusal."

Katherine
smiled. "Well, you needn't be, Lieutenant, for I accept your proposal of
marriage."

He
looked stunned. "Miss Devereaux—I mean, Katherine. Oh, Katherine."
Fervently he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I never thought
you would. I was at the point of despair."

He
seated himself on the sofa and drew Katherine down beside him, still retaining
her slender hand in his grasp. For several minutes he simply gazed at her,
seemingly incapable of speech. He felt dizzy at the closeness of her, at the
sweetness of saying her Christian name, at the wonder of her acceptance.
Achingly he yearned to trace the outlines of her face with his fingers and to
kiss her invitingly wide mouth. Suddenly he realized how soon he would have to
leave her and how desperately unsatisfying it would be to be only engaged to
her.

Katherine
waited, a little disappointed. His eyes certainly glowed in a loverlike manner,
but she had hoped that he would take her in his arms and kiss her as Hampton
had. A tiny sigh escaped her.

"Katherine,
is something wrong?" he asked anxiously.

"No,
it is only that last night, when you gave me all the reasons for wanting to
marry me, you never said—does love enter into it at all?"

"Katherine,
how can you doubt it?" he exclaimed in a shocked voice. "My God, yes,
I love you. I worship you. You must know that."

A
little hesitantly he reached out to cup her face in his hands, then bent to
kiss her lips. His lips were firm and warm; his kiss, close-mouthed and brief.
Katherine felt a stir of disappointment. Was this a husband's kiss? Was this
what Betsy had meant when she spoke of her husband's kisses replacing
Hampton's? But this wasn't the sort of kiss she had meant at all!

"Do
you think that we could marry before I leave?" he asked.

"But,
Lieutenant—I mean, William, that's only four days away. We couldn't
possibly—"

"I
know; I know," he sighed. "I was just hoping. Look, I brought your
ring." He pulled a gold ring from his pocket. "Your engagement ring,
not your wedding ring, of course. It was my grandmother's. I hope you like it
If not, I can—"

"Nonsense.
Of course I like it; it's quite lovely." Katherine slipped it onto her
ring finger. It was a plain, narrow gold band with a square onyx stone set in
it, very simple and yet beautiful against her slender fingers. Suddenly she
felt like crying.

Aunt
Amelia was predictably appalled. She received the couple's news with a fixed
smile and, as soon as the intended groom left, collapsed on the drawing room
couch in a fit of hysterics.

"Katherine,
whatever am I to do?" she wailed.

Katherine,
grimly pacing, said, "Oh, hush, Auntie, you're giving me a headache. What
do you mean, what are you to do? Just think, now this house will be yours to
run."

"Amanda
will die! She'll say I've never had any control over you—and I haven't. She'll
say none of her daughters would ever do a thing like this."

"Well,
I am not one of her daughters. And if I were, I certainly wouldn't let her
browbeat me, like those ninnies do—and like you do."

"Katherine,
please. Fetch my smelling salts; I think I'm going to faint."

"Oh,
stuff and nonsense!
I'm
the one who's just become engaged. If anyone has
a right to the vapors, it's
me!"

"You
never had an attack of the vapors in your life, and you know it."

"I
certainly haven't."

"Well,
it just isn't ladylike."

"For
Heaven's sake, Auntie, sometimes you make me want to curse like Mr. MacPherson
does at his crew!"

Her
timid aunt burst into full-fledged tears. "Oh, Katherine. I never meant to
anger you. It's just that it's so wrong—he isn't of your class."

Katherine
stared out the window, absently twisting her ring. There was a cold, awful
feeing in the pit of her stomach—what if she had done the wrong thing? She was
committed to him now forever, and the vastness of it made her tremble. How much
more familiar and pleasant to spend the rest of her days here, with her family
and the things she knew and loved. Why, he was a stranger, really, and she had
just pledged herself to spend the rest of her life with him.

"His
family is a bunch of nobodies from Nantucket! And you could have had Mr.
Stephens."

"I
didn't want Mr. Stephens."

"Why
did you have to rush into this? Why couldn't you have waited to become engaged
until after he returns from this trip of his?"

"He
wanted to know we were engaged before he left."

"Well,
we can at least wait until he returns to have the engagement party. It won't be
official until then, and you can still retract your acceptance."

Her
poor aunt, in her usual bumbling way, had said the wrong things. The light of
battle sprang into her niece's eyes. "Indeed?" she snapped.
"Well, we shall have an engagement party before he leaves."

Amelia
began to fan herself with her handkerchief. "But, my dear, think. He
leaves in four days. We couldn't possibly get together a ball on four days'
notice!"

"Not
a ball. Just a small dinner party, for family and friends. After all, he's
still in mourning."

Her
aunt seized upon this. "But you can't possibly get engaged while he's in
mourning."

"Oh,
Aunt Amelia, there is a war going on. If everyone waited until mourning was
over, there would be a total halt to all parties and balls and weddings. I
intend to marry him as soon as he returns, so we must have the party now."

"But,
Katherine," her aunt's voice was deeply shocked, "you can't mean you
are not going to be engaged for a full year. It just isn't done."

"I
am sick to death of hearing those words." Katherine was rapidly working
herself into a heat. "Open your eyes, Aunt Amelia. Men are dying by the
thousands. No one stands on ceremony any longer. What does waiting the proper
period of time mean when your fiancé may be dead by then! I plan to marry
William when he returns, whether that is a year or six months or three weeks.
And that is absolutely final! I refuse to even discuss it any longer."