Wilde, Jennifer (59 page)

He
examined them carefully, unable to conceal the acquisitive gleam in his eye.
Mr. Dawson had been recommended as the man most likely to give me a fair price
for the diamonds, but I saw at once that I was going to have to bargain hard.
He was a plump, robust man with ginger-colored sidewhiskers and shrewd brown
eyes. The sign on his door identified him as a merchant, and his office was
indeed plush, but I strongly suspected that most of the merchandise he handled
was acquired through dubious means.

"Lovely
gems," he admitted.

"They're
quite genuine, I assure you."

"And
you want to sell them?"

"That's
why I'm here, Mr. Dawson."

He
set the diamonds aside as though they were baubles hardly worth considering.
That was part of the act. He would denigrate them now. He would tell me how the
market for diamonds had dropped. He would offer me a tenth of their value and
act as though he were doing me a favor. I knew what they were worth. I knew
approximately what I could expect to get. I intended to stand firm.

"I
hear you've had a spell of bad luck, Miss Danver. It
is
Miss Danver,
isn't it? You and Rawlins weren't married?"

"Mr.
Rawlins and I were not married," I said coldly.

"Hear
he made a lot of foolish investments, lost a fortune speculating. Hear there
were so many debts the Palace had to be sold, all the furnishing auctioned off.
Hear there still wasn't enough to pay all he owed. Seems he bought a lot of
stocks on credit, lost 'em, still hadn't paid for all of 'em when he died."

"The
diamonds belong to me, Mr. Dawson. They're my personal property. You have the
bill of sale marked paid-in-full right there in front of you. Perhaps you'd
better examine it again."

"Oh,
no question but what they're yours. His creditors would've got 'em otherwise.
They got everything else, I hear. Understand the new owners are going to take
over the property tomorrow."

"Are
you interested in the diamonds, Mr. Dawson?"

"I'm
interested. Lovely gems, just like I said, but the market's not what it was.
Gems like these, they ain't so easy to resell. Hardly worth my time making an
offer. More trouble than it's worth."

"Perhaps
I'd better leave, then. If you'll hand me the diamonds—"

"Hold
on, hold on. I didn't say I
wouldn't
take 'em off your hands. I'm sure
you need the cash—need it badly, if all I've heard's so. I'll give you five
hundred pounds for 'em."

"I'm
afraid that isn't enough."

"It's
the best I can do, Miss Danver."

"Then
I've wasted your time. Mr. Rawlins paid three thousand pounds for those
diamonds. I won't take a penny less than a thousand for them."

"A
thousand!"

"Take
it or leave it, Mr. Dawson."

"I'll
give you seven hundred," he said grudgingly.

"Sorry.
I'm really in a bit of a hurry, Mr. Dawson. There are three other gentlemen on
my list. I'm sure one of them will be more than willing to meet my price."

"Eight
hundred. Not a penny more."

His
cheeks were a bright pink now, his brown eyes gleaming with greed. He wasn't
about to let the diamonds go. He stood to make an enormous profit from them,
would probably be able to resell them for more than Jeff had paid originally. I
was well aware of that. I stood firm. He blustered and argued. He protested
vehemently and finally resorted to personal abuse, informing me that he had no
intention of being held up by a debtor's fancy lady. Calmly, I picked up the
diamonds. They flashed and shimmered like chunks of frozen rainbow. I thought
Dawson was going to have apoplexy.

"All
right, all right, I'll
give
you the thousand!" he exclaimed.

"I'm
afraid they'll cost you twelve hundred now, Mr. Dawson."

"Twelve
hundred! But—"

"I
don't appreciate pompous little crooks making personal remarks."

"You
bitch! If you think—"

"Fifteen
hundred, Mr. Dawson."

Dawson
went through another siege of apoplectic gestures, cheeks flaming, but he
couldn't take his eyes off the diamonds. I stood there in front of his desk
with an icy expression, and he finally admitted defeat. He heaved a weary sigh
and gave in. I demanded payment in cash. He opened the safe and counted out the
money. I felt a terrible humiliation at having to deal with such a repulsive
creature, but I had no choice. I needed the money. When I left his office a few
minutes later, I had fifteen hundred pounds in my reticule, five hundred more
than I had counted on. That helped considerably.

I
could go ahead with my plans now. I could survive, on my own terms. Half a
dozen men had rushed to the gambling house with generous offers, assuring me I
needn't worry about a thing. All had been eager to take care of me, but I would
have nothing to do with them. I didn't intend to be dependent on anyone. I
would make my own way, and selling the diamonds had given me the means. As I
walked down the bright, sun-splattered street, I felt a strong determination
inside. I felt hard, too, and cold. I was going to fight back, and the
encounter with Dawson had given me a great deal of confidence.

Three
weeks had passed since that dreadful day when my whole world had fallen to
pieces. Just three weeks, and it seemed a lifetime ago. There had been little
time for grief, no time to give way to the guilt, the dreadful sorrow. Jeff was
dead. Derek was gone. He had sailed that afternoon. After Jeff's funeral there
had been an onslaught of creditors, and then there had been a public auction.
Everything was gone now, and I was alone. I had my clothes, a few personal
possessions, and I had the money in my reticule.

I
was going to survive.

Someday,
perhaps, I would be able to forgive myself for what I had done to Jeff, and
perhaps someday I would be able to forgive Derek Hawke for what he had done to
me. In a perverse way, I was almost glad, for I was free of Derek at last. He
had murdered the love in my heart. It had been replaced by icy resolution. I
had learned my lesson. I had let my heart guide me. I had been ruled by my
emotions. No more. From now on, I was going to use my head, and never again
would I permit my heart to dictate. The empty place that Jeff had left there
would never be filled.

After
the auction, I had taken a boat upriver to Natchez. I spent a full day there,
investigating, asking questions, and finally selected a site, a small white
frame building near the center of town. I signed a lease, promising to pay at
the end of the month. Back in New Orleans, I had several long sessions with Lucille
and made arrangements for goods to be delivered in Natchez. Now that I had the
money, I could go ahead with complete confidence. I had waited until the very
last to sell the diamonds, reluctant to part with them. Now the deed was done.

It
was fifteen minutes before I finally reached the gambling house. It looked
bleak and empty in the sunlight, as though the plundering within had left its
mark outside as well. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The hall was dim,
empty, stripped of its finery. The gaming rooms were empty, too, the vast
ballroom like a shell, furniture and chandeliers gone. Tomorrow the new owners
would take over. I had no idea what they intended to do with the place. I
didn't care. It was already a part of my past, and the future was all that
mattered now.

Hearing
footsteps on the stairs, I looked up to see Angie descending. Angie and Kyle
had stayed on, had stood by me. The man who had bought the furniture had kindly
agreed to let us keep a few token pieces until our departure, so at least we
had beds to sleep on. He would come for the rest tomorrow.

"Did
you sell it?" Angie asked.

"I
got fifteen hundred pounds."

"Fifteen
hundred pounds! That's wonderful! You'll be able to open your shop with plenty
to spare."

"I
suppose I will."

"I
know it'll be a grand success, luv. No one knows more about dresses than you
do, and those ladies in Natchez will flock to your place. They'll be the
best-dressed women in the territory."

"Is
Kyle in?" I asked.

Angie
shook her head. "He's gone to purchase our passage. The ship'll leave next
Thursday. We'll stay in an inn until then. Lucky he saved his money these past
three years!"

"Indeed,"
I said.

"Come
on upstairs, luv. I've finished my own packing. I'll help you with yours.
There's some brandy Kyle put aside. You look as though you need a glass. I know
I
do!"

My
sitting room was bare, and in the bedroom only the bed, the wardrobe, and two
chairs remained. A valise and two large trunks stood ready to be packed. Angie
scurried off to her own room and returned a moment with a bottle of brandy and
two glasses.

"I
still can't believe it," she said. "Me, married to a Welshman, about
to leave for Wales! It's supposed to be dreadfully gray and gloomy there. I
just
know
I'll be utterly miserable."

"I
doubt that, Angie."

"I
do, too, frankly," she confessed. "As long as I'm with Kyle, I'd be
happy anywhere. You know, I don't feel married. I suppose because it was such a
dreary little ceremony in that dusty office with stacks of yellowing papers and
that plump white cat snoozing on the windowsill. The bloody sod didn't even
give me a ring! He says he'll buy me one later, after the pub is established
and bringing in enough to pay for it."

"He's
going to open a pub?"

"I
didn't tell you? There's only one pub in that pathetic little village where he
was born, and he aims to put it out of business. He's got a lot of relatives
still living there, and there's even a cottage. It passed on to him when his
folks died. It's been rented out all this time to a cousin of his. God knows
what his people are going to think about me."

"I'm
sure they'll find you enchanting."

"They'll
probably be shocked speechless. A flashy little London whore who used to do
tricks for tuppence! One husband already in his grave—poor George. That seems
such a long time ago. I—I feel like a different person."

"You
are a different person, Angie. The past is behind you. You're going to make
Kyle a wonderful wife."

"I'm
damn sure gonna try. If he can forget my past, I suppose I can, too. Here, luv,
drink your brandy. We'd better get started if we intend to pack all these
things. It'll take us forever—"

We
drank our brandy, and then I began to pull dresses out of the wardrobe and
spread them out over the bed. I had sold several in order to pay for the quick
trip to Natchez. The splendid gold ballgown Jeff bought me was gone, as was the
blue velvet I had been wearing the night Derek delivered the wine. I would
never have been able to wear them again, and the used-clothes dealer had given
me a reasonable price. I had sold others as well. I doubted that I would have
need of splendid gowns in the future. Angie seemed to be reading my mind.
Folding up a violet-blue silk, she gazed at me with a thoughtful expression.

"There'll
be a man," she said.

"Oh?"

"In
Natchez. There'll be a man, probably several. Oh, the shop will be all very
well and good, it'll keep you amused for a while, but eventually—there'll be a
man, luv."

"I'm
not interested."

"Not
just now, no, but a few months from now, after you've gotten over the initial stages
of grief and disappointment—"

"If
there is a man," I interrupted, "he'll be very, very rich. He'll be
able to give me everything, and I'll give nothing in return."

"No?"

"I'll
never love again."

"This
has all made you very hard, Marietta. Very bitter, too."

"Perhaps
it has. I won't deny it."

"This
isn't you, you know. It's a role you're playing. You've resolved to become a
cold, heartless opportunist, but it isn't you. You're much too sensitive to
play that role for long. You're much too good at heart."

"I'll
never let myself be used again, Angie. Derek used me. Jeff did, too, in his
way. I was concerned for them, their feelings. From now on I'm going to think
of myself."

"You
say that. I've no doubt you believe it—at the moment."

I
closed the lid of one trunk and open the other. Angie continued to fold
dresses, eyes still thoughtful.

"Do
you think he'll ever come back?" she asked.

"Derek?
He'll win his inheritance, become an aristocrat. He'll marry a pallid blueblood
with an impressive pedigree. He's out of my life for good."

"You
still love him."

"I
hate him!"

"You
just think you do. He'll always be in your blood."

"I
thought so, too. Once. I know better now."

We
worked for a while in silence, filling the trunk, and at last the job was done,
only a nightgown and the clothes I would wear tomorrow unpacked. Angie sighed
and brushed her hair from her temples. She sat on the edge of the bed, her
expression sad.