Newport: A Novel (12 page)

C
atharine burst through the dining room door, hoping to stem the chaos before it could careen into disaster. “What is the meaning of this?”

Her words faded as she absorbed the scene before her. Seated at the foot of the table, Nicholas wore his customary sneer, but a curious twitch plagued his mouth. Chloe sat to his left, the rapturous expression on her face a throwback to the Romantic portraiture of saints. Beside her, Adrian managed neutrality worthy of Switzerland.

But it was Bennett who caught her attention, causing her to stop halfway to the dining room table.

“Catharine!” Bennett’s voice, strong and hearty, belonged to a man at least thirty years younger. His cheeks glowed with more than good health. He seemed lit from within by an inexplicable glow, infused with vim that hadn’t before been there. He stood,
walking stick clattering to the ground as he left his place at the head of the table to stride to Catharine’s side. “Take your place. Elizabeth has come to call.”

Puzzled, Catharine allowed him to hook a firm hand beneath her elbow and guide her toward her usual seat at his right. She hazarded a brief glance at Adrian as she settled into her chair. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod across the table toward Amy.

Catharine’s gasp echoed in the quiet room. Amy’s skin, usually so creamy and smooth, had the sallow, dry look of paper. Dark circles rimmed her blue eyes, and she slumped in her chair as if the weight of the world had become too great to carry. “Amy, what’s happened?”

“I don’t know,” Amy said in a monotone.

“Mother has come.” Chloe’s words tumbled over themselves. “She has much to say, but doesn’t want to begin until we’ve all gathered. Where is Mr. Reid?”

“He’s on his way.” Adrian’s gaze traveled from Catharine to Amy, then back to Catharine again.

“Congratulations,” Nicholas drawled. “An impromptu conversation with Mother—it’s a clever move, however unbelievable. You ladies are more ingenious than I thought. Unfortunately, I’m hungry. Surely we can either eat breakfast first or begin our spectral conversation without Mr. Reid?”

Amy tilted her head, listening. “Mrs. Chapman would prefer that we all be present.”

“And we are.” Jim hurried across the threshold, peering into Amy’s face as he slid into the chair beside her. “Good grief, Amy. Are you all right?”

She turned glazed eyes his way. “I’m not sure,” she said.

He searched her face for another moment, then laid a gentle hand atop hers. “I’m no expert, but it seems to me you shouldn’t do this right now. It’s not agreeing with you.”

“No, she must!” Chloe leapt from her chair. “Mother is here waiting . . . perhaps she’s brought my Margaret as well.”

Amy swayed in her chair, glassy gaze now riveted on Chloe’s trembling form.

“Fine lot any of that will matter if Amy keels over.” Jim raised his eyebrows in Catharine’s direction, his open stare more commanding than expected. “Miss Walsh. Surely you share my concerns about your niece’s well-being.”

His words jolted Catharine from her shock. “Of course I do, Mr. Reid.”

“Then perhaps you could escort her up to bed.”

“No!” Chloe’s desperate cry pierced the air. “Don’t listen to him! He just doesn’t want to hear from Mother again, that’s all. After last night, he’s afraid she’ll reveal even more about his sordid personal life!”

“That’s uncalled for,” Adrian said firmly. “I’ve known Mr. Reid since he was a child. I can vouch for his sterling character.”

Chloe snorted. “Nevertheless, Mr. de la Noye, since you want to hear from Mother just as much as I do, I suggest you silence your associate. You’re the one who wanted another séance in the first place.”

“That’s correct, Lady Dinwoodie. I did. But I don’t need to compromise Miss Walsh’s health in order to obtain the information I seek.”

Jim placed a firm hand on Amy’s shoulder. “Go with your aunt, Amy. This can wait until you’re feeling up to it.”

“Coward,” Chloe spat as Catharine half rose from her chair. “You’d deprive us all of Mother’s company just to prevent more of your grimy past from surfacing. But I’m not surprised. You didn’t even have the guts to fight in the Great War, did you? Unlike my Margaret, you stayed home and let others die on your behalf!”

Jim’s jaw tightened as protests from Adrian and Catharine erupted around him.

“Enough.” Catharine stood so suddenly that her chair nearly tipped over. “Amy, come with me. We’re finished here.”

“Blossom, you are behaving badly.” Amy’s flat tone cut through the hubbub.

Nicholas froze. “What did you say?”

“Blossom,” Bennett repeated. “Chloe. Only your mother ever called you that.”

Chloe dropped into her chair. “My God,” she breathed.

Amy’s voice grew stronger, its force contrasting with her stony face. “Lady Dinwoodie, your mother says that Mr. Reid does not deserve to be maligned in this way. He had good cause not to fight. His vision is so poor that the military wouldn’t let him enlist. Why, he can hardly see at night.”

Jim grabbed the edge of the table, cheeks scarlet. “Amy! You promised—”

“Mrs. Chapman has called you all here for a reason,” Amy continued. “She says that she’s waited long enough for you to accept responsibility for your past actions. She’d hoped that an intimate weekend gathering such as this would inspire you all to set things right, but since that does not appear to be the case, she will say what needs to be said. Time grows short.”

“Elizabeth, my dear.” Bennett looked crestfallen. “I’m trying my best to do all you ask.”

“She says she understands this and recognizes your efforts. The fact remains, however, that you have yet to marry Catharine Walsh and that your will remains unchanged. These matters must be amended as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Mother seems to have a rather one-track mind where marriage to Miss Walsh is concerned.” Nicholas shifted in his chair. “Why? Ask her why.”

“You may ask her yourself,” Amy said. “She’s passed over, not deaf.”

“Where is she?” Chloe swiveled her neck to scour the room.

“By the sideboard,” Bennett said, eyes misting in awe.

“Good,” Nicholas said. “Ask her to fetch some toast while she’s standing. I’m famished.”

“Nicky!” Chloe rapped her brother’s hand.

“I have a few questions for Mrs. Chapman, if she’ll allow the imposition,” Adrian said.

Catharine stiffened at the steel wire that ran through his words. “I don’t think that wise under the circumstances, Mr. de la Noye. I have my niece’s welfare to consider.”

“I certainly understand, Miss Walsh. But since it seems Mrs. Chapman plans to stay until she’s had her say, perhaps it would speed the process if I—”

“Mrs. Chapman would be delighted to answer your questions, Mr. de la Noye,” Amy interrupted. “She wonders what has taken you so long to ask.”

“Don’t, Adrian.” Catharine swung around to face him, gripping
the back of the chair to keep her balance. It was no use. Her legs turned to rubber as she sank into her seat.

“Ah.” It was Amy’s voice, but the expression on her face was one Catharine had never seen before. The pinched look about the nose . . . that slight narrowing of the eyes . . . for a brief moment, it was as if someone else had borrowed Amy’s facial features for their own use. “You’d prefer I set matters straight in your own house, Miss Walsh? That’s certainly part of what must be done. I can start there if you’d like.”

“‘I’?” The rest of the room fell away in a hush as Catharine stared across the table at the young woman she knew so well. “Amy . . . please. You can’t possibly understand what you’re saying.”

Amy’s eyes widened with confusion as she stared back, but at least she was thoroughly Amy again. One hand fluttered to her stomach. “Aunt Catharine, Mrs. Chapman says . . . Mrs. Chapman says . . .”

Catharine threw a quick, panicked glance in Nicholas Chapman’s direction. To her left, Bennett’s chair creaked as he leaned forward, eagerly awaiting his late wife’s words. To her right, Adrian’s gaze pierced her straight through, searching for answers. She dared to meet it. The detachment in his dark eyes made her stomach roil. She’d once kindled a most wonderful fire in that gaze. It seemed a blasphemy that it held nothing but emptiness for her now. Suddenly, her fingers itched to trace the line of his chiseled jaw, to pull him so close that nothing could separate them ever again.

Letting him go had been the biggest mistake of her life. And in another moment, the reasons she’d done so probably wouldn’t even matter anymore.

She lifted her chin like a prisoner facing a firing squad. “Very well, Amy,” she said. “Out with it. I’m ready.”

Amy obliged, her words a relentless wave. “Mrs. Chapman says . . . that despite what you’ve told everyone for years, you’re not my aunt at all.”

“Catharine!” Bennett twisted toward her, startled. “Is this true?”

The shock on Amy’s face tore at Catharine’s heart. “You’re my mother.”

V
oices converged in utter pandemonium as Adrian stared at the young woman across the table. A vein in his neck throbbed; he raised a hand to shield it from curious eyes. At least no one could hear the booming thoughts racing through his mind. With difficulty, he made himself concentrate through the din. Bennett Chapman was still a client with interests to protect, no matter how topsy-turvy his own world had just become.

“You’re my mother,” Amy repeated, her small voice fading away like a vapor.

“Catharine. What does this mean?” Bennett bent toward his fiancée, brows lowered over eyes so piercing that any other woman would have cowered in her seat.

“Oh, I think that’s obvious,” Nicholas said. “It means that one way or another, your intended has led you astray. Either she’s a proud mama who has neglected to mention the fact, or the dearly
departed ‘Elizabeth’ isn’t as accurate as an all-knowing spirit should be. Which is it, Miss . . . Mrs. . . . Walsh?”

“‘Miss’ will do,” Catharine said, skewering him with a look so full of hatred that it seemed blood should be pooling at his feet. Her voice softened as she turned toward her fiancé. “Bennett, you deserve an explanation, and I will answer your questions in private, away from the inquisition.”

“I’m sure I have even more questions than he does.” Amy sat so still that it seemed a statue had spoken. Jim moved as if to take her hand but stopped mid-motion. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and averted his gaze to a spot somewhere above Adrian’s head.

The explosion of laughter from Nicholas’s end of the table ricocheted through the room. “Which will it be, Miss Walsh? Do you still vouch for Mother’s otherworldly existence? You can choose to be a whore or a fraud. Take your pick.”

Catharine’s chair clattered to the ground as she leapt to her feet. Adrian shot up as well. “That’s enough,” he snapped, glaring at Nicholas. Jim sent him a quelling glance from across the table. Nicholas raised an eyebrow.

A dull thud started in Adrian’s left temple as he settled back in his seat. “I won’t tolerate vulgarity,” he said.

Catharine’s deadly stare nearly bore a hole through Nicholas Chapman’s forehead. “In answer to your question, Mr. Chapman, you may call me whatever you wish. You can’t hurt me. Rest assured that I would never have chosen to reveal this information—especially to you. At my own expense, it appears I have proved that the spirit of your mother is indeed real.”

“This could still be a cleverly staged fraud,” Nicholas said, but
for the first time, his words faltered. Only the most accomplished actress could counterfeit the look of shock on Amy’s face, could fake the way she trembled in her chair. Furthermore, it was hard to refute the damage done to Catharine’s reputation through this most recent revelation.

Catharine slowly righted her chair. “Bennett, I will speak with you whenever you wish. And I will certainly release you from our engagement should you so choose.”

Bennett hesitated. “I will hear you, of course. But I am obliged to follow Elizabeth’s directives. It seems to me that she has known your story all along yet still encourages our union. I will go forward with this marriage.”

“Are you truly this foolish?” Nicholas asked, dazed.

“Stow it, boy,” Bennett growled through gritted teeth. “Can’t you see I need to keep your mother happy?”

Catharine swayed slightly in the wake of Nicholas’s sputtered oath. “Then make the arrangements today,” she said. “Let us be done with it, or I’ll pack my bags and return to Sacramento. One way or another, I will leave Liriodendron with my pride intact.”

Bennett straightened in his chair at the ultimatum, more business tycoon than besotted lover. “I’ll do so this morning, after breakfast.”

Catharine nodded her acquiescence, color high. Adrian’s pulse quickened as she turned his way, but her gaze merely grazed him, coming to rest on Amy instead. Her tone softened. “Amy, I ask your forgiveness. You must understand that I had good reason to alter the truth. I owe you an explanation, but I will not provide it here. You may come to me whenever you’re ready.”

“You may be waiting for quite some time,” Amy said flatly.

Catharine held her gaze. “And perhaps I would deserve that. But you’ll never know unless you speak with me, will you?”

Head high, she walked toward the dining room door. For a fleeting moment, Adrian entertained an image of greedy subjects pawing at their queen, demanding that she deliver yet one more act of largesse before mounting the platform to the guillotine.

“I don’t care.” Amy struggled to stand, as winded as if she’d just run a mile. Catharine paused at the sound of her voice. “I’m tired of it all,” Amy continued. “I’m tired of those here who think I’m a fraud, of you others who humor me simply because you believe I’m a conduit to
her
. . .”

“Her?” Chloe looked up. “Is Mother still with us?”

“Yes, she’s still here.” Amy gave an exhausted shudder. Jim’s arms tightened across his chest as if tethered there. “And yes, she has more to say. But do you know what? I don’t think I feel like being her puppet anymore. I’ve had enough.”

“But surely she’s come for a reason!” Chloe cried. “You must tell us what she wants.”

“Must I?” Amy sank back into her chair as if her legs could no longer support her. “Must I really?”

“Of course not.” Catharine stared Chloe down from the doorway. “You are beholden to no one, Amy. You needn’t do anything against your will.”

Amy melted against the back of her chair. “Tell that to Mrs. Chapman. She won’t leave me alone if I don’t speak for her. Actually, she won’t leave at all. Her message is for you, Bennett. You’re to make arrangements for the wedding now, not after breakfast. This marriage must take place within the next few days.”

Bennett’s eyes remained fixed just to the right of the fireplace
mantel. “Dear Elizabeth,” he said, but his voice was strong. “I am happy to do your will.”

Nicholas’s fist pounded the table. “Father, I won’t allow it. You can’t possibly—”

“I can do whatever I wish.” Bennett rose to his feet with the agility of a man half his age. He strode toward the door, stopping at the threshold to deliver a sharp peck to Catharine’s cheek. “I’ll place the telephone calls now. Mr. de la Noye, I believe I’ve clearly stated my intentions regarding my new will. Go ahead and draft it. No need to fret, Nicky; you and your sister will be invited to the wedding.”

His brisk footsteps retreated down the hall, leaving them all to stare at the walking stick he’d left behind.

“Mrs. Chapman will be waiting here,” Amy said to no one in particular.

“She needn’t,” Catharine said. “I’ve certainly heard enough.”

“And I’ve said enough,” Amy shot back. “But since she apparently won’t leave until she’s satisfied she’s gotten all her ducks in a row, you’ll come back later to hear what she has to say . . . for my sake. You owe me at least that.”

Chloe brightened. “Are you saying that Mother will remain in this room all day?”

Nicholas stared at his sister in disgust. “Oh, absolutely, Chloe. She’ll be levitating near the fireplace, just waiting for a plummy moment to deliver her next dramatic revelation.”

“Bravo,” Amy said. “That’s exactly where she is. Do you see her, too?”

Nicholas blanched.

“I feel faint.” Amy closed her eyes.

“Well.” Chloe squirmed in her seat. “Perhaps if we all just sit here and have a lovely chat with Mother, you’ll feel better.”

“No.” Amy’s eyelids fluttered open as she slumped down farther in her chair. Catharine started toward her, arm outstretched, but Amy stopped her with a well-aimed glare.

Adrian cleared his throat. “Mr. Reid, suppose you escort Amy to the gardens.” He ignored the pleading refusal that flickered across his associate’s face. “The salt air will do her good.”

“Yes, please.” Amy turned doe-like eyes toward Jim, who shrugged helplessly. “Perhaps I’ll feel better after a little walk. You and I could have breakfast on the terrace, Mr. Reid. This room is starting to give me the creeps.”

“So there’s to be no more conversation with Mother now?” Chloe asked as Jim rose and offered Amy a rigid arm.

“Oh, don’t worry. She’ll be here. She’s waiting for your father.” Amy slipped her fingers through the crook of Jim’s elbow and pulled herself from her chair. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise as she slumped against him. “Please, Mr. Reid. Take me outside.”

“Perhaps I could join you two on the terrace,” Chloe began, but she might as well have spoken to the wall. Jim and Amy left the room as if they hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

“Well.” Chloe’s disappointed gaze darted from Nicholas to Adrian to Catharine. “Here’s a jolly crew. You all look as if you might draw weapons. I’ll take breakfast in my room, where it’s safer. Fetch me when Mother is ready to speak. Lord knows there’s nothing to do here when she isn’t around.”

Adrian barely noticed her exit. His stare enveloped Catharine, but her figure refused to remain constant in his vision. Instead, a young woman with a mesmerizing smile and a mane of thick hair
danced through his mind. His fingers twitched as he remembered how sweetly her waist had once yielded beneath the span of his hand. Her skin, tinged with rose, had incited tremors each time she’d brushed against him. Set free after so many years, a Pandora’s box worth of memories swirled through his consciousness, stabbing at his solar plexus until it seemed the front of his argyle sweater should be bloodstained.

Catharine’s haunted eyes met his and, for the first time, he saw that she was drowning alongside him.

He looked away. “Miss Walsh. I’d be much obliged if we could talk.”

“Yes,” she said, staring at the floor.

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Nicholas said. Adrian turned toward the foot of the table, cursing himself for forgetting that the other man had stayed behind.

Nicholas’s smile was anything but genuine. “Forgive the intrusion, but I’d like to have a few words with you as well . . . Mr. Delano.”

Adrian stiffened.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. de la Noye. My mistake,” Nicholas said. “But it’s an easy one to make, isn’t it? Have a seat. You and I can chat over breakfast.”

Adrian didn’t need to look in Catharine’s direction. Quick footsteps in the hall made it clear that as long as Nicholas stayed sniffing around the past, she planned to stay as far away as possible.