Wilde, Jennifer (58 page)

Two
or three minutes later I heard the carriage pull out of the livery stable on the
corner and start down the street. It was large and black, a closed carriage
pulled by two stout dappled grays. Teddy Blake tugged on the reins to stop the
carriage directly in front. His hair was mussed, his face flushed with sleep.
His clothes had been hastily pulled on, and his cloak hung lopsided on his
shoulders. Angie opened the door for me, drew me inside. Teddy called to the
horses and clicked the reins. We were on our way.

"Can't
he go any faster?" I said.

"Relax,
luv. We'll get there. It's just now six-thirty. Shouldn't take us more'n twenty
minutes to reach the Oaks."

"It's
set for seven."

"I
know."

"I'll
make Derek see reason. I'll stop it."

"I
hope you can."

"It's
my fault, Angie. All this is my fault."

"Mustn't
be too hard on yourself," she said. "I don't imagine you wanted to be
unfaithful to Jeff. I don't imagine you could help yourself. I understand now,
loving Kyle as I do."

"I
tried to stay away."

"I
know you did, luv. But it was inevitable. I can see that now."

"I
do
wish he'd go a little faster."

"Poor
Teddy. He'd gone back to bed after Kyle left. I had to roust him out, and him
naked as the day he was born. Blushed somethin' awful, he did. I stood there
tappin' my foot while he dressed, orderin' him to snap it up. He'll get us
there."

I
leaned back against the leather cushion and stared out of the window as the
carriage drove down dark, narrow streets, rocking slightly as it rumbled over
the cobblestones. We passed a square where men in brown leather aprons were
setting up vegetable carts. Small black braziers had been set on the ground,
fires burning like bright orange blossoms that waved in the breeze. We drove
on, down more dark streets, near the waterfront now. I could smell oil and tar
and salty water. It seemed we would never get out of the city.

My
calm had worn off. I was tense now, my nerves on edge. I wanted to shout at the
driver, urge him to hurry, hurry, even though we were moving as fast as
possible over the rough cobbles. Angie reached for my hand. Her pale-blue
taffeta skirts crackled.

"We're
almost out of the city," she said. "He'll be able to drive a lot
faster once we're clear of these narrow streets. Do try to get hold of
yourself, luv."

"I
feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin."

"I
know."

"What—what
if we're not in time?"

"We
will be," she assured me.

"Derek
will listen to me. He must."

"I
imagine he will."

"He—he
hates killing. He told me. He had to kill a man once. The man who gave him his
scar. He's never been able to forgive himself for taking another man's life,
and now—now he's going to take a pistol and—"

"Try
not to think about it. Try to relax."

"They'll
already be there by this time. Kyle is acting as Jeff's second and—and I
suppose one of Derek's men will act as his. They'll be going over the rules.
Rules. How silly to have rules. They're going to try to
kill
each
other."

"We'll
be there in just a few minutes," she said.

She
gave my hand a tight squeeze and settled back against the cushion. The carriage
rocked as the wheels skimmed over hard-packed earth. We were clear of the city
at last. The carriage picked up speed. We drove alongside a canal. There was a
smell of swamp. The fog was thicker here. Trees seemed to take shape like dark
phantoms emerging from the swirling, grayish-white mist. We turned, moving
inland, away from the canal. It was growing lighter.

"Teddy
does know the spot, doesn't he?" I asked.

"Everyone
knows the Oaks."

It
seemed an eternity before the carriage finally stopped. Angie and I climbed
out. We were on the edge of a large field surrounded by giant oaks. Two other
carriages stood at the edge of the field, half-concealed by the fog, which
hadn't yet lifted. The sky was still gray, wavering rays of pale yellow-white
sunlight streaming down over the field where five men stood in a cluster. I was
so nervous now I could hardly keep from trembling. Angie took my hand once
again, squeezing it.

"Calm
and easy, luv. Mustn't fall apart now."

"Thank—thank
God they haven't begun."

The
men separated, two moving in one direction, two in the other. The fifth man
shook his head and went to stand under one of the oaks. None of them had looked
up, although they must have heard the carriage approaching. As we drew nearer,
I could distinguish features. Jeff and Kyle were talking as Jeff removed his
cloak. Derek stood with one of the smugglers, calmly examining his pistol,
holding it out in front of him, testing the weight. The fifth man held a bulky
black bag in his hand, and I knew he must be the doctor Jeff and Kyle had
fetched after they left the gambling house. The fog was a fine mist in the air,
gradually dissipating as the sunlight grew stronger.

Angie
let go of my hand. Heart pounding, I hurried across the still-damp grass toward
Derek, tendrils of fog parting before me. My skirts billowed in the breeze,
dark red underskirts showing beneath the navy blue. I stumbled and almost lost
my balance, and Derek looked up. He showed neither surprise nor displeasure,
his gray eyes revealing nothing. He said something to his second, and the man
moved away several paces, scowling. When I reached him, Derek lowered the
pistol he had been examining.

"You
shouldn't have come, Marietta."

"I
had to. I have to stop this."

"It's
rather late for that," he said dryly.

"Jeff
wouldn't listen to reason. I tried to persuade him to give up this—this
madness, but he wouldn't listen."

"And
you think I will."

"You
must, Derek."

"We've
less than five minutes left, Marietta. You'd better get out of the way."

He
was so very uninterested, as though this were all a rather tedious affair he
would try to endure along with the boredom it entailed. I couldn't reach him. I
realized that at once. He was as determined to go through with it as Jeff had
been.

"Please,
Derek," I whispered. "I beg you."

"A
few minutes ago, just before you arrived, both of us were given an opportunity
to call the duel off. Neither of us took it."

"You
can still call it off. You can refuse—"

He
looked at me with those bored gray eyes, and I knew that any further argument
would be futile. I felt a terrible sinking sensation inside. I had lost. Derek
frowned, and then he turned his back to me and signaled to his second. As the
man approached, I left, moving across the damp grass and through the fog as
though I were in the middle of a dream. I hardly noticed when Angie took my arm
and guided me over to one of the oak trees. We stood there beneath the heavy
boughs, and she slipped her arm about my waist.

"Try
to bear up, luv," she said quietly.

"He
wouldn't listen."

"It'll
all be over in just a few minutes. There's so much fog they'll probably both
miss. Everything is going to be all right."

I
shook my head. I was numb, and the dream-like quality mercifully remained. I
watched as the two men approached each other across the field, one in brown,
his sandy hair ruffled by the breeze, the other in dark-blue breeches and white
shirt, his manner still bored. Each held a long, deadly pistol. The fog was
lifting rapidly now, though the trees surrounding the field were still wrapped
in shadow.

They
met each other. They turned, standing back to back, and then a somber voice
began to count the paces.
One, two, three,
and they moved apart.
Four,
five, six,
and the distance between them grew and I wondered why Kyle was
calling the paces and not Derek's man. Had they drawn lots? Did it make any
difference? A gust of strong wind swept over the field, blowing most of the fog
away, and the oak boughs groaned overhead, tendrils of Spanish moss waving. Ten
paces now, ten to go, and then they would turn and fire and one of them would
die. I knew that for a certainty. I felt it in every fiber of my being.

"Sixteen,"
Kyle
called.
"Seventeen, eighteen—"

I
loved them both, each in a different way, and because of me one of them was
going to die. There was nothing I could do, nothing, and I shook my head as
Angie's arm tightened about my waist. It was real,
real,
not a dream at
all. Kyle called the last two numbers and the men turned, facing each other
again, forty paces separating them now, and each man raised his pistol. There
was a deafening explosion and puffs of smoke. I saw a bright-red blossom
bursting on Derek's white shirt and he staggered backward, still clutching the
smoking pistol in his hand.

I
tore free from Angie's grip. I raced across the field toward him, and he stood
there with the same bored look in his eyes as the red blossom spread on his
shoulder. The doctor! Where was the doctor? Why wasn't he hurrying over with
his bulky black bag? The color had drained from Derek's face. His cheeks were
ashen. He staggered again, swaying for a moment before maintaining his balance.
I seized his arm. Derek pulled away, looking at me with cool hostility.

"It's
over," he said.

"You're
hurt!"

"It's
only a flesh wound. The bullet passed through my shoulder. It's over, Marietta.
My ship is leaving this afternoon. Go to him now."

"You're
leaving—without me. You can't mean—"

"He's
dying, Marietta. I aimed for his shoulder. His bullet struck me just as I
pulled the trigger. My shot went through his chest. He's dying. You've caused
me to kill a man. You've brought me to that. We have nothing more to say to
each other."

"Derek—"

"Go
to him!"

As
he turned and strode briskly away from me, the impact of what he had just said
suddenly hit me. I had been so stunned when he told me he was leaving that what
followed had hardly registered, but now it was as though an arrow pierced my
heart. I cried out and stumbled across the field to where Kyle and the doctor
huddled over Jeff. I pushed them aside and fell to my knees to gather him in my
arms. He looked up at me with puzzled eyes.

"Marietta?"

"I'm
here, Jeff."

"It's
you? Marietta?"

"I'm
here, darling. I'm here."

He
grinned that foolish grin. "It is you. You called me darlin'. I imagined
it, didn't I? I must uv imagined it."

"No,
darling. My darling."

"You
said it again," he murmured.

"Of
course I did."

"I
wish—" The words were barely audible.

"Yes?"

"—wish
I coulda been th' one. Wish it coulda been me.

I
cradled him to me, gathering him closer, and he rested the side of his head on
my shoulder and looked up at me with that grin still playing on his lips. His
face was terribly pale, and damp, and I brushed a lock of hair from his
forehead and rested my hand against his cheek. I could feel the warmth leaving
his body and feel the chill stealing over him, and I knew.

I
looked up at the doctor. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do. He
and Kyle had stepped back, and Kyle had his arm around Angie. Tears were
spilling down her cheeks. Jeff shuddered. I tightened my arms around him.

"—only
I'd had more money," he said. It was little more than a whisper.
"That day—woulda all been different. If only—he'd 've lost and you'd 've
been mine and—"

I
realized he was talking about the auction. I stroked his cheek.

"I
am yours, darling," I said. "Surely you know that. You—you're going
to be all right. We're going to be married. We're going to be very, very
happy—"

"Marietta?"

"I'm
here, Jeff."

"I
can't see you!"

"Darling—"

"Don't
leave me!"

"Never.
I'll never leave you."

He
clutched me with amazing strength, looking up at me with eyes that could no
longer see. He coughed. It was a hoarse, rattling cough, and his whole body
shook with it. I held him, folding him against me, and when the cough was over,
he blinked his eyes and peered up at me, and his eyes filled with joyous
recognition.

"—didn't
go away," he whispered.

"I'm
still here, darling."

"—love
you. Always did."

"I
love you, too, darling."

He
seemed puzzled. "You do?"

"I
do, Jeff. I do."

I
saw the happiness in his eyes and he tried to say something else, but the words
wouldn't come. He frowned, and then he clasped me with desperate strength,
trying to speak. The light went out of his eyes. The arms that had been
clasping me dropped limply. I cradled him against me, rocking him gently in my
arms as the tears streamed down my cheeks. Jeff was dead.