The Burning (5 page)

“Yes, Father,” Angelica replied weakly. She made her way to the long couch and sat down.

“You look very pale,” her father muttered, narrowing his blue eyes as he studied her. “I wish you were stronger, Angelica.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You have stood up very well under this tragedy,” he remarked, shaking his head sadly. He tsk-tsked, his mustache rolling up and down. “James Daumier was a fine young man.”

Angelica sighed. She wished she could change her dress. The heavy black wool was hot and uncomfortable.

“Hamilton Scott will be a very suitable husband for you,” Mr. Pierce said, striding to the window. “I have spoken to his father, who approves the match wholeheartedly.”

“Father, please do not force me to think about marriage now. Not on the day of James's funeral,” Angelica said in a quivering voice. “I feel so light-headed and fluttery. I am afraid I may swoon again.”

“Save your strength, daughter. We will discuss it when you are feeling stronger.” Mr. Pierce pulled back the window curtains. Bright yellow sunlight streamed into the room.

Angelica blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. “Ah, Liza—here you are!” she cried, turning to the door.

Liza entered the room unsteadily, her black bonnet still covering her head, the hem of her black dress grazing the floor. “Funerals are so sad, Angelica!” she wailed.

“The funeral of a fine young man is especially sad,” Mr. Pierce agreed solemnly. “Would you girls care for tea? I shall alert the staff.”

Angelica watched as her father left, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “It—it was a pretty funeral,” she stammered, motioning for Liza to sit down beside her. “All those flowers.”

Liza pulled off her long black gloves and let them fall to the floor. She sat down beside her cousin and put a hand gently on her arm. “How are you, Angelica?”

“I feel better now that Father has left my side,” Angelica admitted, covering Liza's hand with hers. “He means well, but he cannot stop talking about Hamilton Scott.”

“You mean—”

“I mean with James
dead
—” The word caught in Angelica's throat. “With James dead,” she started again, “Father is urging me to accept Hamilton. Father thinks it best that Hamilton and I announce our betrothal and marry as quickly as possible.”

“But do you
care
for him, Angelica?” Liza asked.

Angelica replied with a pained sigh. She squeezed her cousin's hand. “Simon has been such a comfort these past few days,” Angelica offered, focusing on the window. “He has been so considerate, so understanding.”

“Angelica!” Liza exclaimed, unable to conceal her disapproval. “I had no idea you were seeing Simon Fear.”

“He has paid me visits,” Angelica said, still avoiding her cousin's stare. “He has been very kind. I do not know why you are so suspicious of Simon, Liza. Just because he is a northerner and does not come from wealth—”

“I do not trust him. That is all,” Liza replied sharply. She shifted her weight on the couch. “You avoided my question about Hamilton. How do you feel about Hamilton, Angelica? Do you care for him?”

Before Angelica could reply, the butler appeared in the sitting room doorway. “Mr. Hamilton Scott is here,” he announced. “Shall I show him in, miss?”

Simon Fear leaned against the white picket fence and stared at the sprawling mansion. From his vantage point Simon could see clearly into the sitting room window.

How considerate of Mr. Pierce to pull the curtains back for me, Simon thought.

A carriage came clattering by, pulled by two handsome black horses. Simon bent and pretended to clean something off his boot. When the carriage had passed, he took his place again beside the fence.

He saw Hamilton Scott enter the room and make his way to the couch where Angelica and Liza were seated. Hamilton bowed low and kissed Angelica's hand.

How very gallant you are, Hamilton, in your
boyish way, Simon thought cruelly, feeling the three-clawed pendant heat up under his shirt.

How unfortunate for you, Hamilton, that the next funeral will be yours. And then I shall be the one in the sitting room, bowing low to kiss dear Angelica's hand.

O
ne month later Angelica was holding on to Hamilton's arm as they pushed their way through the laughing, celebrating crowd. “Wait for me! My shoe is caught in a plank!” Liza called.

Angelica called impatiently back to her cousin. “Hurry! We don't want to miss Aunt Lavinia!”

“And I want to get a good look at this paddlewheel boat!” Hamilton declared.

Liza managed to get her shoe free from the dock and moved quickly to her cousin, holding up the hem of her long gray dress.

“Do you see Aunt Lavinia?” Angelica asked. “There are so many people here to see the boat off, it looks like Mardi Gras all over again!”

As they moved closer to the boat, Angelica could see that a red carpet had been spread down the
gangplank. Smiling passengers, their arms loaded with farewell presents, stopped on deck to wave goodbye to friends and family on shore.

A brass band played march music beside the gangplank. White and yellow streamers had been strung along the top of the pier. Horse-drawn taxis pulled up to let off more passengers.

“There she is!” Liza exclaimed. “Aunt Lee! Aunt Lee!”

Angelica and Hamilton pushed past a man pulling an enormous black steamer trunk and hurried up to greet Angelica's aunt Lavinia.

“Why,
there
you are!” Aunt Lavinia cried happily. “My goodness. I thought I missed you!”

Angelica's aunt was a large, robust-looking woman. Her blue traveling bonnet matched the blue of her eyes. Her round cheeks were flushed with excitement. She had traveled to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but now was returning home to Memphis.

There were hugs all around. Angelica introduced Hamilton, who said something, but his words were drowned out by an ear-shattering blast from the boat whistle.

“Oh, my, I had better be boarding!” Aunt Lavinia exclaimed. “It was so nice of you to see an old aunt off!”

More hugs. Then Angelica's aunt gathered her belongings in her arms and started toward the gangplank.

“She is a dear,” Liza said, waving to her aunt.

“This boat will make it upriver to Memphis in no time,” Hamilton remarked. “Look. It has
two
paddle wheels. That should double its speed.”

Another blast of the whistle made Angelica cover her ears. She tugged on Hamilton's arm. “There is no one on that pier,” she said, pointing. “Come on. We can get a better view when the boat pulls away. We shall be right on the water.”

Liza hesitated. “That pier is roped off, Angelica. I do not think they want us to stand there.”

“We can stand there if we want,” Hamilton said. “Come on. I want to be as close as I can when the boat starts to move.”

With Hamilton in the lead, the three of them ducked under the rope and stepped out to the edge of the pier. Below them the water lapped against the wooden pilings, the water green and golden, shimmering in the bright afternoon sunlight.

“I can see fish down there. Look. A whole school of them,” Hamilton said, bending over the edge of the pier and pointing into the gently rocking water.

“I—I don't think we should be here;” Liza stammered. She glanced around uncomfortably.

“No one cares if we watch from here,” Angelica told her cousin.

The last passenger had boarded. Angelica saw. The gangplank had been pulled on board. Two young sailors in white suits were rolling up the red carpet. The band started braying out another march.

Angelica shielded her eyes with one hand and
searched the deck for her aunt. She felt a tap on her shoulder. “Turn around,” Liza instructed in a hushed voice. “Look who is here.”

Confused, Angelica followed her cousin's gaze. To her surprise, Simon Fear was standing at the edge of the crowd. He had a hat pulled down over his forehead. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of a gray coat.

How strange, Angelica thought, staring intently at him. Why is Simon here? He doesn't appear to be seeing anyone off.

With two short blasts of its whistle, the paddle boat began to pull away from the dock, its wheels spinning slowly, churning the water.

Peering back toward the crowd, Angelica saw Simon pull something from his coat pocket. The silvery object caught the light of the sun. Simon raised the object high.

Angelica shook her head, then turned to watch the boat depart. What a strange young man he is, she thought, an amused smile spreading across her face.

Another blast of the whistle. The boat began to pick up speed. Behind Angelica the crowd waved and cheered.

Angelica watched the twin paddle wheels turn, creating two frothy waterfalls as the boat pulled away. She glanced back. Simon hadn't moved. He still held the silvery object high in one hand.

“Hamilton, this is exciting, isn't it?” she asked. “Hamilton? Hamilton?”

He had been standing by her side at the edge of the pier.

Where had he disappeared to?

“Liza, have you seen Ham—” Angelica started.

But her voice caught in her throat as she glanced back at the boat.

And then she started to scream.

“D
id he fall?” Liza cried. “Did he fall?” She grabbed Angelica, repeating the question. “Did he fall?”

“Hamilton! Hamilton!” Angelica screamed, raising her hands to her cheeks.

She watched Hamilton disappear under the golden green water.

And then she saw him rise up again as if floating on air.

“Hamilton! Hamilton!”

As Angelica gaped in horror, she saw that Hamilton was caught in the blades of the paddle wheel.

“No! Oh, please—no!” she shrieked.

His limp body rose up, then made a loud crunching sound as it was crushed between the wheel and
the boat. It plunged back into the water, then was dragged up again, only to be crushed with another loud
crunch
.

“Did he fall? Did he fall?” Liza repeated the question breathlessly, crazily, strands of her brown hair loose and blowing wildly about her head. Tears streamed down her face.

Hamilton disappeared under the water. Then his lifeless body rose again. His arms waved helplessly. His head, the skull crushed beyond recognition, rolled back, then forward as the wheel carried him into the boat again.

The water pouring off the big paddle wheel was pink, stained with Hamilton's blood.

“No! Oh, no. Please, no!” Angelica moaned, unable to take her eyes off the gruesome scene of horror.

“Did he fall? Did he fall?” Liza continued her stunned refrain, her eyes rolling crazily in her head.

Suddenly Angelica felt a firm arm around her waist.

Uttering a soft cry of surprise, she turned to see Simon at her side. “Simon!” she cried in a high voice she didn't recognize. “Simon, he—he—” She pointed to the boat.

“Poor Angelica,” Simon said softly, holding her tightly. “Poor Angelica. You have suffered so much.”

“Angelica, it is a pleasure to see you out of your mourning clothes,” Henry Pierce said, smiling
beneath his dark mustache. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder in passing. “You are feeling better?”

Angelica nodded but didn't return his smile. She smoothed her shiny black hair. “Two months have passed, Father. I felt it proper to end my mourning for Hamilton.”

Mr. Pierce made his way to the window and peered out into the evening darkness. “An unhappy time,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He turned back to Angelica. “You are so pale, daughter.”

“I am feeling better,” Angelica told him. “At least the dreadful fainting spells have ended.”

“You have been considering my advice?” he asked, keeping his gruff voice soft. His eyes searched hers, as if seeking her true feelings. “I really do believe that traveling abroad is a good idea for you now.”