I watched him go until the darkness swallowed him.
Then I turned and dashed to my father’s study.
He was still seated at his desk, slowly turning his snifter of brandy in his fingers, contemplating the amber color through the crystal.
“Papa, why?” I cried, slamming the door behind me. I could not hold back my tears any longer. “Why will you not allow us to marry?”
“Oh, Katrina,” he sighed.
“I love him!” I wailed. I was not making a compelling case for my maturity and ability to choose my own husband just then, but I could not help myself. I was breaking and could not stop to put myself back together. “I love him and he loves me! Why would you stand in the way of my happiness?”
“Katrina,” he said, “I do not doubt that you and young Mr. Crane feel genuine affection for one another. Maybe it is truly love. But what you do not know—”
“We do love each other,” I insisted.
“Perhaps you do,” he allowed. “But what you do not know, nor do I expect you to know at your age, is love is not enough to sustain a marriage, nor a life together. You cannot live on love. And when he cannot provide for you as you are used to, what then?”
“I don’t care about any of that!”
“So you say now,” he said, “but the day will come when you will care a great deal.”
“But I am to inherit the farm, anyway,” I argued, trying reason now that pure emotion had failed—for the first time in my life—to move him. “We will have more than enough to live off of!”
“And in the meantime?” my father asked. “And even when you do inherit the farm, what then? Does Ichabod know how to run a farm so as to keep it profitable, let alone prosperous? He does not, Katrina. You know that. It is no easy thing.”
“But I know how, Papa! You know I do—you have said as much yourself! I can help him!”
“Katrina.” There was a note of pity in my father’s voice. “Has it not occurred to you that perhaps his interest in you is motivated primarily—or at least in part—by his desire for your inheritance?”
In spite of myself, Ichabod’s words came back to me: I will not pretend that the thought of such bounty, such financial security and even wealth, does not excite me after so many years living on the road, and struggling. I had thought them no more than honest, and perfectly reasonable. But could my father be right?
No, I swore to myself, as dozens of moments of love and affection and intimacy and passionate words tumbled through my mind. No. That cannot be.
But my father had seen my hesitation. “It will be better this way, Katrina, you will see,” he said affably. “You may not think so now, but someday you will see the wisdom of my decision. You shall marry a man with prospects, means of his own, so that you are guaranteed a comfortable lifestyle.”
“I will not marry Brom Van Brunt,” I snapped. “No matter how much you desire him as a son-in-law, I will never marry him.”
“There is no need for dramatics, Katrina,” he said, sounding as though that rare thing was happening: his patience was wearing thin. “You need not marry Brom Van Brunt, if the idea is so odious to you. But someone of similar station and prospects. I must insist upon this.”
Even in my near-addled state I recognized anything else I might say at this point would only further wound whatever chance still existed that he may change his mind. Without another word, I spun on my heel and stalked out of his study.
* * *
I found Charlotte almost immediately. “Katrina,” she said, looking startled. “I was just on my way to see—why, Katrina, what is the matter?”
My eyes overflowed with tears again, and I drew her away into the front foyer, the nearest unoccupied space, so I could tell her all. The words poured out of me in a rush, like vomit, that they might be expelled as quickly as possible.
“Oh, Katrina,” she said when I’d finished. “I know you were uncertain, but truly I believed your father would give his consent.”
“Did you?” I flared up at her, needing to blame someone. “Or did you foresee this long ago, and not see fit to tell me? What were all those warnings about?”
She flashed a hurt look at me. “Of course I did not foresee this, Katrina,” she said. “No, the warnings … they always had an echo of Brom about them, somehow. No doubt that was about the duel. I don’t suppose he told your father anything?”
I bit my lip. I could not be sure, not after Brom had confronted me leaving the Jansen cottage. But if my father had known how far our relationship had progressed, he would have been far angrier. “There is little evidence of that,” I said at last. “No, Papa’s objections were no more than I had feared.
“But,” I added, “Brom was skulking in the hallway when Ichabod and I left the music room, so I know not what he may now have overheard. I expect it does not matter.”
Instantly Charlotte’s face took on a troubled expression, but when she did not say anything right away I spoke again.
“Ichabod will be sending word through you tomorrow about meeting, so that we may discuss our options,” I told her. I reached out and squeezed her hand. “This cannot be the end, Charlotte. It cannot. I won’t let it be.”
She still looked distracted, as though trying to see something that existed only behind a far-off fog, but she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I will be waiting for him tomorrow, then.”
I hesitated, realizing that I had forgotten to tell her about the child. No matter. Quite enough had gone on for one night. I would tell her some other time, when my world had been righted again.
“Charlotte, there you are,” Mevrouw Jansen said, stepping into the foyer. “It is time we took our leave.”
Charlotte embraced me quickly. “We will speak tomorrow, I promise,” she whispered. “Try to get some sleep, Katrina. That will be the best thing for you.”
I nodded, unable to reply for fear I would start sobbing again.
Charlotte drew back and smiled at me encouragingly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
I nodded again.
Mevrouw Jansen moved toward the front door, drawing her cloak around her. “Good evening, Katrina,” she said, smiling. “Thank you for your family’s wonderful hospitality, as always.”
“Of course,” I managed.
As mother and daughter stepped outside, I heard Mevrouw Jansen ask, “Is everything all right, Charlotte? You seem rather troubled.” Yet then the door closed behind them, so I could not hear what reply my friend made, if any.
With Charlotte’s departure, I suddenly felt weary down to my very bones. I could not bring myself to bid farewell to the few remaining guests just then. Instead, I trudged out to the barn to fetch Nox before making my way up the stairs to my room. I wriggled out of my dress, too tired to wait for Nancy, and left it in a heap on the floor. I changed into my shift and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up over my head. Despite all the turmoil in my mind, I was asleep almost instantly, Nox curled up beside me.
I do not remember the nightmares I had that night, only that they were dark and terrifying.