Chapter Twelve

Katie tried to imagine the look on Balboa’s face when she turned up in Kingston. She smiled all through her chores the next morning, every time she thought about it. Hopefully passage to Jamaica wouldn’t wipe out her entire savings, as she certainly didn’t want to come ashore with nothing in her pockets but lint. She didn’t want to have to start over again. She’d done so when she arrived in Bermuda and had vowed she would never be that poor again.

“Where are you today?” Abigail’s voice pricked through Katie’s pleasant thoughts like a knife tip through a soap bubble. A not-so-gentle nudge to her shoulder accompanied those words. Mrs. Bates must have left the room.

“Don’t do that.” Katie glared at Abigail as the other woman nudged her again. They were supposed to be dusting the upper hallway, from the ceiling to the railing, and the numerous vases filled with draping ferns. Katie fought off a sigh. It was going to be a long day. Why couldn’t she have been assigned to work with Josephine?

“Then you should answer me.”

“You didn’t say anything worth answering.” Katie moved to one of the gold urns, crouching to dust the rim.

“I think her Ladyship is going to announce the engagement this afternoon. That’s what Lucy was saying to Mrs. North.”

“How would Lucy know?”

The look Abigail shot her suggested she was as stupid as the fern fronds brushing her legs. “Very simply, really. No one ever notices Lucy. She’s even more invisible than we are. She comes in to tend to the fires and no one sees her. They talk openly in front of her. Even more so than they do in front of us. The best thing about us is that we are good at being invisible. Even you would have to admit to hearing things that were never meant for your ears.”

Yes, she had. Many times. Without thinking, Katie sat to take the pressure off her knees, which had begun to ache from being in a crouched position. She ignored the soft crush of linen as she peered at Abigail, busily running her rag over the railing. “I suppose both families will be relieved, to know Lady Sally has finally found a husband.”

“Well, her Ladyship might be relieved. But I’m not so certain the Sebastianos will be. When I was tidying up Captain and Mrs. Sebastiano’s chambers, they were discussing Lady Sally, and Captain Sebastiano did not seem at all happy that she was to be their daughter-in-law.”

“What did he say?” Katie tried to sound as offhand as possible, but it made her heart skip a beat to hear that not everyone was happy about these upcoming nuptials. It was petty, but she didn’t care. If the groom were anyone other than Rafe, she would probably be thrilled to see Lady Sally marry.

Abigail swished her cloth over the gallery railing’s fine scrollwork, as if pondering her response. Dust motes swirled by, floating this way and that in the damp air. She frowned, scrubbing at the base of the rail, where the dirt collected. “Not much. But, oddly enough, he mentioned you.”

Katie felt the blood drain from her face. “He mentioned me? Whatever for?”

Before Abigail could look up, she turned away, frowning at the floor as she searched for something, anything, to dust. Something must need her attention, although the gallery was dusted on a regular basis.

Aside from where Abigail worked, which was normally hidden behind a large urn, the marble was spotless. The urn had been broken two nights earlier, when Mrs. Bates had been swapping out the old flowers for fresh blooms. The look of horror on the housekeeper’s face had been one Katie didn’t think she’d ever forget. It was probably the first time Mrs. Bates had ever broken something in Marchand Hall.

However, even that memory wasn’t enough to drown the roar of Katie’s pulse as Abigail went on. “Tell me something, why would he bring you into a discussion?”

“Why, indeed? I couldn’t tell you, since you were the one listening.” Trying to quell the thunder of her heartbeat, she swiped at some soil that had spilled from the broken urn and forced her voice to remain as even as possible as she asked again, “What did he say?”

The silence was so thick, much like the air before a storm. It grew thicker still, more uncomfortable, until Katie could practically feel her ears clogging with it. “Abigail? What did he say?”

Just when Katie was about to grab her and shake an answer from her, Abigail’s arm went still. She slowly turned to peer at Katie, her expression so smug, so self-satisfied, that Katie wanted to drop her cloth and bolt back out of the gallery.

“He thought you looked familiar. Said he thought he knew you from somewhere else.” A feeling of icy dread carefully spiraled through Katie. “Now, why would he think you looked familiar, Katie? Where could he possibly know you from?”

Katie shrugged, and managed to inject disdain into her words. “I haven’t the faintest idea. I’d never seen him before he and Captain Sebastiano arrived here.”

“Is that so?” Abigail countered, her eyes narrowing slightly. She straightened up, folding her arms over her narrow chest, her dirt-smudged dusting cloth hanging limply from one hand. “What exactly did you do in Jamaica, that would make a man remember you?”

“I worked in—in service.” Fear took root, and she hoped like mad nothing showed up on her face. Over the years, she’d gotten quite good at hiding her feelings. It had made life easier in her line of work if no man could see how she’d really felt about his being there. But this was different. This scared her more than any nameless, faceless sailor ever could.

“In service.” Abigail gave her a sly look. “I don’t suppose you would meet many men that way, would you?”

The inside of Katie’s mouth went dry and a sour taste rose in the back of her throat. She coughed, trying to swallow the awful taste and rid herself of the dryness. “No, I—I… Well, there were several sons in the family, and they had friends, so I suppose I met my fair share. Now—” she gathered up her supplies, “—I’m going to go start on the music room.”

She ignored the exultation on the other maid’s face. Abigail was just making trouble. If she really knew the truth, she would have run squealing to Mrs. Bates by now, telling tales. She was just trying to upset Katie, trying to make her lose her temper.

It was working.

Katie made her way to the music room, where she dropped her supply box. A cooling ocean breeze blew in through the open doors, clearing her head. She didn’t stop moving until she was outside, where she sank onto the low stone wall, leaned against a smooth marble pillar and closed her eyes.

What else had Captain Sebastiano said? Surely they hadn’t been discussing Jamaica. As far as she could remember, neither of Rafe’s parents had wanted to hear about Kingston, or why their sons visited there when they didn’t have actual business dealings going on.

She shuddered. Sebastiano Distillers had legitimate business in Jamaica, but that wasn’t always what brought Rafe and his brothers to her shores. It certainly wasn’t the reason she and Rafe had first crossed paths, although he’d never actually said he was in Kingston to pay Madame Zeta a visit. At the time she hadn’t cared, but now she was eternally grateful he hadn’t confessed to being there with the sole intention of visiting the finest brothel on the island.

Of course Inigo Sebastiano would know about Madame Zeta and her girls. They were infamous throughout the West Indies and had been for many years. There probably wasn’t a sailor in those waters who didn’t know about Madame Zeta.

Not that Katie had been one of her girls. If she had been, her existence wouldn’t have been quite so meager. Madame Zeta took very good care of her girls. They didn’t live hand-to-mouth, as Katie had for so long. They wore the finest gowns and never went hungry. Rumor had it that they drank champagne with every meal. Champagne. Madame Zeta had it imported specially for her clientele and her ladies. Champagne imported on Sebastiano ships. If anything, Katie had envied those girls at times.

“Katie, what are you doing out here? I thought Mrs. Bates said you were to clean the gallery?”

Katie bolted from the wall as Martha came out onto the terrace. Thank goodness it was her and not Mrs. Bates, but Katie’s relief went no further than that. Her hands refused to be still, her palms smoothing over her skirts of their own accord. “I—that is—you— Why are you here? Don’t you have Lady Edna to attend to?”

Martha’s eyes flicked up and down, following the motion of Katie’s hands, and Katie thrust them into the folds of her skirts. Her forehead wrinkling, Martha shook her head. “Not yet. But why are you here?” She hurried over to Katie and put a concerned hand on her shoulder. “Katie, you’re as white as anything. What’s the matter?”

Katie pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to speak. Besides, what could she possibly say? Martha’s hand tightened on her shoulder, gently rubbing it. The concern in her dark eyes was almost enough to make Katie burst into tears and confess all of her sins. She wanted the comfort badly enough that the words all but formed on her lips. She went as far as to sag into her friend, to rest her head on Martha’s shoulder and heave a heavy sigh.

“Katie, what is it? Please, tell me.” Martha drew her into a warm embrace, like a mother would hold her terrified child. “I’ve never seen you look like this. You’re a mess.”

“I know,” Katie choked, and the hot, thick tears stung her eyes. Vanessa hadn’t judged her, and although she hoped like mad Martha wouldn’t either, Katie couldn’t bring herself to say anything. One of the first rules of survival was to trust no one, and she didn’t know if Martha would hold her past against her. Or worse, use it against her. It was too great a risk to take, so she remained silent.

“Very well. Tell me when you feel you can.” A thin layer of hurt spread over Martha’s words, which added a subsequent layer of guilt to Katie’s conscience.

Katie hated causing that hurt, but there was nothing else she could do. She lifted her head to look her friend in the eye. “Martha, I wish I could, but—” Her throat squeezed shut, cutting off her voice. She let her head drop back onto Martha’s shoulder. “I can’t,” she finished lamely.

“Why?” Martha eased free and faced her. “Katie, what’s going on?”

Perhaps she could tell Martha without actually speaking the words. Could she chance it? Should she?

She looked up at the floor of the terrace above the music room. That was the Hamiltons’ private parlor. It was rarely used, so there was little chance she’d be overheard, but she still didn’t feel comfortable baring her soul if there was any possibility of it. Someone might be lurking on the garden paths beyond the steps, or could come into the music room just as the wind swept her words inside.

She caught Martha by the wrist to bring her back into the music room. “I can’t speak freely out there.”

“Speak freely about what?”

Katie closed the terrace doors, ignoring Martha’s, “What the devil—?” She sagged against the right-side door. “I don’t want to be overheard. By anyone.”

“Over— Oh my…” Martha’s eyes were bright with the dawning of realization. “Katie Dunn, what have you done? Did you pummel Abigail? Please tell me you have.”

“Sorry, but no. That’s not it.” Katie’s knees had a moment’s doubt about holding her up, so she caught the door handle to steady herself. “I only hope you don’t hate me after what I’m going to tell you.”

“You’re speaking in riddles, Katie,” Martha complained, rubbing her forehead. “Why would I hate you? What on earth could you have done to deserve hatred?”

Katie hesitated. This had to be done, and once it was, Pandora would never be able to put all of the evils back into the box.

She took a deep breath. “Because I know Captain Sebastiano. Rafael Sebastiano. The younger one.”

Martha’s hand fell away from her face, her brow furrowing with confusion. “Well, of course you do. You said you once worked for his parents.”

“I know, but… I told you that, but it’s not true.” There was no point lying any longer, but still, she drew in a shaky breath. Before her courage fled, she blurted, “Rafe and I were…lovers. In Jamaica.”

She held her breath, waiting for Martha to suck in a horrified breath and run from the room, screaming and crossing herself. But when she looked up and met Martha’s gaze, there was no horror to be found. To Katie’s surprise, Martha looked more concerned than appalled, and it was all she could do not to burst into real tears.

“Lovers as in—” Martha visibly swallowed, “—the biblical sense?”

Katie nodded. “It’s a long story, but in short, I helped the woman his brother eventually married, and one thing led to another, and then…”

Martha leaned against the door beside her. “So, what happened? How did you end up here alone?”

Katie’s throat squeezed shut.

It was time. She had to trust Martha now. Her load was far too heavy to keep carrying on her own.

She moved to the pale blue damask sofa in the center of the room and patted the cushion next to her. As Martha settled in, Katie cleared her throat.

“Because his family disapproved of me.” That was all she could bring herself to say.

“Because you were a barmaid? They don’t seem so stuffy as to hold that against you.”

Martha had been sworn to secrecy about that piece of her past, but it was so far from the entire truth. Still, the lies had to stop. Katie hated lying. It became such a burden, trying to remember what story you told which person, or if she left that detail out or changed it in some way. As she looked into her friend’s concerned eyes, she knew Martha wouldn’t betray her, wouldn’t turn away in disgust.

At least, she hoped not.

Katie tucked a lock of blonde hair behind one ear. “They would have been happy if I was just a barmaid, Martha.”

“But you weren’t?” Martha gave her a long, level look, and when Katie gave a slight shake of her head, realization dawned in her eyes. Her jaw went a little slack as her mouth formed a perfect “oh” of surprise. “You were… Oh, Katie…why?”

“Because I had no choice. I had to eat. I had to sleep somewhere. I had to survive.”

“And Captain Sebastiano…” Martha’s voice dropped to a scorching whisper. “He paid you?”

Katie almost smiled at the scandal woven through those whispered words. Almost. But she couldn’t quite manage it. “No. He didn’t.”

“Well, then how did his family find out?” Martha’s voice returned to its normal tone as she sat back. “Did he tell them?”

“We know from experience how servants talk. And the Sebastianos drew their own conclusions about me. I suppose it wasn’t all that difficult to surmise. I looked the part. I was from the right area, the right part of Jamaica.”

“But you seem like a lady to me.” Martha clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded, Katie. God knows I didn’t.”

“It’s all right.” Katie reached up to take Martha’s wrist and pull her hand away from her mouth. At least Martha hadn’t shunned her just yet. And most of her horrified look had faded away. Now she seemed oddly curious. Katie was glad her trust hadn’t been misplaced. “So, you aren’t about to ask Mrs. Bates to change rooms? To order me out of the house immediately?”

“Why would I do that? It doesn’t matter to me, what you did in another life. We’ve all done what we had to in order to survive. Who am I to judge you for the same?” Martha caught her by the hand and squeezed. “We’re friends. You’ve become like a sister to me. Perhaps that makes me fallen by association, but I don’t care.” She shrugged. “It is what it is, and I’ll pretend no different. You’re my friend, and so shall you remain here as my friend, as my sister.”

A sister. Katie had always wished she had a sister. Unexpected tears stung her eyes as she squeezed back. “Thank you. You have no idea how awful it feels, to be terrified your darkest secret is going to come to light.”

“You needn’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.” Martha paused, her lips pursing as if a silent question dangled from them. “I promise to take it to my grave.”

Briefly, Katie smiled. “Go on and ask me, then.”

Relief flooded Martha’s face. “I’m still confused as to how Captain Sebastiano’s family comes into this. Were they in Jamaica with him? I thought they lived on a different island?”

“They do.” Katie shook her head. “No. Vanessa—she’s his brother’s wife now—had been on board her half-brother’s ship against her will. And a fat man was bringing her to shore when she jumped into the harbor and swam in. The man came after her, and she hit him with an oar. I helped her up onto the dock, and she told me that the man she’d come to love was still on board her half-brother’s ship, where he was going to be executed.”

“Executed!” Martha’s eyes widened again. She brought her feet up onto a footrest, wrapping her arms about her skirts and resting her chin on her knees. “So what happened?”

“I took her to the tavern where I worked, one owned by a dear friend. I found out that the man awaiting execution was Captain Sebastiano’s older brother, Aidrian, and that she was looking for any member of the family on Aidrian’s orders. Captain Sebastiano came into the tavern, and I knew who he was—everyone in Kingston knows the family—although I’d never before spoken to him. I approached him, took him to Vanessa, and convinced them to go and get Aidrian, hopefully before it was too late.”

At Martha’s increasingly horrified expression, Katie shook her head. “Aidrian was fine, eventually. But that night, while he and Vanessa made up for lost time, I was in the tavern with Captain—oh, this is too confusing, I’m going to just call him Rafe from now on—and after a few glasses of Jamaican rum and a heated game of darts…”

She let her voice trail off, smiling as the blush in Martha’s cheeks darkened. “Katie, that sounds romantic… And he whisked you away from that life to a new one?”

“He thought to, or so I thought. He said he cared about me.”

“And he vowed to marry you and make you his forever?”

Katie hedged there. It didn’t feel good to admit that wasn’t quite the truth. “Not quite.”

Martha’s face fell. “Really?”

“He wasn’t looking to marry, Martha, and I wasn’t either. At least, I didn’t think I was. By the time we reached St. Phillippe, I’d be lying if I said I still wasn’t. But his mother and father made it quite clear I was not welcome in their home.”

“Didn’t he tell them…?”

Although it was the natural progression of their conversation, Martha’s question still hurt, the sting as fresh now as it had been when the whole debacle had happened. Her throat tightening, Katie shook her head. “No. He didn’t. He tried, but—”

“Coward.”

It was the same word she’d used many times, but hearing it from Martha made Katie defensive on Rafe’s behalf. “No, he was in a tight spot.”

“Nonsense. A true man would have stood up to them.” Martha squeezed her hand again. “And he should have gone with you, if he loved you at all. But he didn’t, did he? He just let you leave.”

“He didn’t know I was going to leave. I didn’t know I was leaving until I did it.” Katie stared over Martha’s shoulder, at the swaying fronds of the palmetto trees just beyond the doors. The winds had picked up, blowing the clouds across the sky out to sea, pushing them into one another to form bigger clouds. “I don’t really even remember going to San Marco. But then I was on a ship bound for Hamilton, and here I am.”

“And now here he is, as well. He’s some nerve, hasn’t he?” Martha’s left hand balled into a fist, which she then buried in her skirts, as if she was afraid she might use it on the captain in question.

“He didn’t know I was here.” It was touching, seeing how angry Martha was on her behalf, but at the same time, Katie wasn’t so sure she was still angry herself. Perhaps she should be, and perhaps he didn’t deserve any forgiveness, but she just didn’t seem to feel that fury anymore. She was tired. Very tired. Perhaps the past was just where everything belonged—buried and forgotten, and left behind.

Katie sighed softly. “He’s asked me to forgive him, almost begged me for it, actually.”

“As well he should. Beg, that is.” Martha’s folded arms and cross expression gave her a maternal look Katie had never seen before. “And I hope you told him to go jump in the ocean.”

“I probably should have. I did tell him to leave me be. And so far, he has.”

Katie glanced around the room. The back wall was mostly glass, which made it seem even bigger, filling it with sunlight. The beams danced across the floor, glinting here and there as they bounced along the tiles and shone off the music stands. Light slanted across the harpsichord. For all of the instruments, rare and common, she couldn’t recall seeing either Lady Sally or Lady Edna ever play any of them.

With a sigh, she ran her fingers over the yellowed ivory harpsichord keys. Several low notes tinkled out, and she felt a pang of regret that such a lovely instrument went ignored when she would love to be able to play it. What a waste.

The last note trilled into memory, and she looked up at Martha and shrugged.

Martha raised one delicate dark brow and her lips pursed. “And he’s going to marry her Ladyship, isn’t he?”

Those words hurt unlike any others she ever heard. A dark gray sadness billowed up as she nodded. “I think he is, yes.”

“You still care for him, don’t you?” Surprise threaded Martha’s words.

“I do.” Katie met Martha’s gaze with ease. “He’s a good man, Martha. He had a weakness, but he is a good person deep down.”

“If he’s so good,” countered Martha, “why is he asking for her hand instead of yours?”

The answer was as simple as asking whether or not the sky was blue. “She is acceptable. I’m not.”

“Oh, we both know that isn’t fair.”

“No, it isn’t. But we also both know that’s how the world works.”

They sat there in comfortable silence, Martha staring out at the water in the distance while Katie traced her finger over the harpsichord keys again. The sun was warm upon the ivory, but Katie felt a shiver run through her. She wasn’t sorry she had told Martha, and Martha wasn’t going to hold her past against her, but she couldn’t shake the sadness wrapping about her heart, weighing it down. No matter how hard she tried, happiness just seemed so damned elusive.

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be for people like her. Maybe certain people just weren’t meant to ever truly be happy. Was it reserved only for those who had endless riches and unlimited leisure time? The monied and the beautiful, whose lot in life seemed to be to do nothing but attend balls and cotillions, and marry equally monied and beautiful people. Meanwhile, people like her spent their lives—wasted their lives, really—dreaming of things that could simply never be and hiding in the shadows, hoping they blended with the scenery and disappeared.

“Would you give him another chance?” Martha broke through the depressing reverie.

“I don’t know I’ll get another chance.” Katie tapped a black key morosely. “I made myself quite clear. And he’s honoring my wishes.”

Martha’s hand came down atop Katie’s to still the note. “If you had the opportunity, would you give him another chance?”

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine eating her words and her pride. But she didn’t really need to think about it. Not if she was absolutely honest with herself. She knew the answer in her heart of hearts, and knew it with complete certainty. She looked over at Martha. “Yes. I would.”

“Then you need to tell him. Before it’s too late. You’ll regret it forever otherwise.” Martha patted her hand and rose. “I should get back before her Ladyship comes looking for me. We’ll talk more about it after dinner.”

Katie nodded, her spirits higher than they had been in weeks. However, her good mood deflated as Mrs. Bates marched into the music room, her mouth a tight, white line. “What on earth are you both doing in here? Is everything that needs to be done finished? Have you not enough work to keep you busy?” She rounded on Martha, eyes blazing. “Lady Edna has been shouting down the rafters looking for you, Martha. Go!”

Looking sheepish, Martha hurried past the housekeeper, head down and hands folded. “Yes, Mrs. Bates.”

“As for you, Katie, perhaps you would like to explain to Lady Marchand why none of the dead flowers in the gallery vases have been replaced?”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Bates. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Oh, you needed some fresh air, did you? Well, you will have plenty of fresh air once her Ladyship sacks you and you have no place to live or work.”

Heat stung Katie’s cheeks. “Of course, Mrs. Bates. Again, I beg your pardon.”

The housekeeper’s glare burned into her back as she hurried out of the music room. Mrs. Bates was unusually surly that afternoon and Katie didn’t want to risk her making good on her threats.

The flowers in the gallery were in sorry shape, and while Katie made several trips down to the garden to replace them, her mind whirled with Martha’s suggestion that she talk to Rafe. Could she do it? Could she swallow her pride long enough to confess that she still cared for him?

Then again, what did she stand to lose if she didn’t?