Part 29 (1/2)

I went to the armoire, threw open the doors, and took a traveling bag from the cluttered depths.

”What are you doing?” he asked.

I said, ”I'm leaving you.” I began tossing things into the bag, gowns and underclothes, a pair of shoes.

”Lucy. Lucy, you don't know what you're saying.”

”I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm leaving you.”

”Think of who you are, Lucy. G.o.d d.a.m.n it, I won't let you go. You're a Carelton. You're my wife. And that's what you'll be until you're in the grave.”

I was stopped by his words. His face was as cold as I had ever seen it, the rawness of his emotion bared. I saw once again the inflexibility of his will, and a vision came to me: a grave marker, my name chiseled in marble, CARELTON at the very top, with Lucille Marie Schyler Van Berckel beneath. The truth of William's words struck me, its very permanence, so I had to shake myself a little to forget it.

”Let me go, William,” I said. ”It would be best to let me go.”

”I won't do that.”

”I don't want this life any longer.” The bag could hold no more. I fastened the buckles and put it on the floor, and then I pulled out the traveling gown I'd arrived in and threw off my dressing gown so I was standing completely nude before my husband. I saw him flush and step back; he had never seen me so carelessly naked. It made me feel curiously powerful, dispa.s.sionately sensual in a vengeful way, and I let him watch as I pulled on my drawers and stockings, my chemise. I threw back my hair to pull on my corset.

His face was white. ”You aren't going anywhere. You're my wife, d.a.m.n it. You'll do as I say.”

I tried to shove past him. ”Not anymore.”

He threw me back in the room as easily as he had the night before. His strength made me angry, so I tried to push past him again. ”Let me go,” I said. ”I don't love you. I don't want to stay.”

”I don't give a d.a.m.n what you want,” he said, and this time he shoved me so hard I went sprawling to the floor. ”You're my wife. You're a Carelton.”

He left me, shutting the door firmly. I heard the turn of the key in the lock, the thin echo of his voice as he said, ”I'm sorry, Lucy, but you aren't yourself just now. It's best if you go to bed. I'll call the doctor right away.”

William didn't return. As the morning crept into a dully hot afternoon and I began to sweat and grow light-headed, I took off the corset and put on my dressing gown again. I sat on the balcony watching the sea until the afternoon turned to evening. I began to hear music floating on the breeze, and I realized that things were moving on exactly as they always had. Somewhere there was a supper I had been invited to, a supper where they were gathering and drinking and gossiping, and for some reason, I found my vision blurring with tears. I went back into my room and lay upon the bed, falling into a restless sleep where dreams plagued me, until I heard someone knocking on the door.

It was dark. William came into the room bearing only a candle. He stood in the doorway and looked at me steadily, his eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. He held a gla.s.s of lemonade.

”I thought you might be thirsty,” he said. ”It was a hot day.”

I was captured still by the dreams; this seemed only another restless image. I sat up and nodded. I was thirsty; I'd had nothing to drink all day. He put the gla.s.s in my hand and said, ”Drink it all, Lucy,” and I obeyed him. The drink was strange, a little warm, with a familiar taste, but my throat was dry and I drained the gla.s.s.

He took it from me and backed away. ”Go to sleep now,” he said, and then he was gone.

The next morning I woke groggy and dull, my mouth bitter with laudanum. I could barely move. William had drugged me, I knew that, but the morphia made me helpless. I could not care. I could only stare blankly as he came into the room with a hearty-looking man wearing bushy muttonchop whiskers and dressed soberly in black. He held papers in his hand, which he looked at often.

”You see?” William said. ”She cannot even rouse herself to modesty.” The man nodded, and his gaze raked over me where I lay exposed on the bed. I could barely bring myself to show any interest in him until he came over and took my wrist, his fingers curling around it. Then I wrenched away from him violently, remembering Victor's fingers just that way. I backed up against the headboard, twisting my hands together and wrapping myself around them so he could not get them.

The man looked at me sorrowfully. ”Mrs. Carelton, can you hear me? Can you understand me?”

I began-inexplicably-to cry.

He did not try to touch me again. ”I understand your situation,” I heard him say to William, and my husband came over to the bed.

”I'm sorry,” he whispered. ”Lucy, my dear, I am sorry. But you must realize what a danger you are to yourself.”

I turned away from him and heard him sigh. Then he went to the door and said something, and two men came in-David, who averted his eyes hastily when he saw me, and someone else, some man-boy I'd seen in town. His stare locked upon me greedily, but I didn't care. I could barely bring myself to wonder why they were there, what they wanted.

Sadie came in behind them. She looked sad and anxious. Quickly she went to the armoire. She pulled out drawers and petticoats, a chemise, a corset, my traveling gown, and brought them over to where I lay on the bed. ”You two go on out,” she ordered David and the other. William said, ”Wait in the hall,” and as they left, Sadie urged me to sit up.

”Come on, now, Mrs. Carelton,” she whispered. ”Let's get dressed, shall we? That's a good girl.”

I was too limp to care or to help her. ”Where are we going?” My voice sounded slurred even to my own ears.

”Why, out,” she said, glancing at William. ”It's a good sunny day. Wouldn't you like to go for a ride?”

”William won't let me,” I said. ”I'm his prisoner.”

”Don't be absurd, Lucy,” he said impatiently, coming to the bed to help Sadie. ”Let's get you dressed.”

They pulled me up and I stood on unsteady feet. I held on to the back of a chair as my dressing gown was pulled off. My eyelids were heavy, my limbs slack. It was as if they dressed another body or a doll. The layers were put upon me one after another: chemise and corset, petticoats and skirt. The corset made me woozy, so when they ordered me to sit down, I did so, watching as they shoved my feet into boots, the flash of the b.u.t.tonhook in the light.

”Her hair?” Sadie asked.

William shook his head. ”We've no time. They're waiting for us. Believe me, they won't be surprised.”

Sadie gave me a pitying look.

William said, ”Come now. Let's go.”

The bag I'd packed was still there, buckled and ready. He picked it up and called for the boys and handed it to David. Then he took my arm and we went down the stairs.

I felt a niggling worry: This was odd, even for a dream. Real but unreal-where was I going? Who was waiting? But I couldn't muster the strength to ask those questions. I forgot them nearly the moment I thought of them.

We went from the house. The carriage was there, and William bundled me inside and put my bag on the seat. He muttered something to Sadie, then climbed in beside me. I felt the shudder as David climbed onto the box, another jolt-it must have been the other boy-and then we started off.

The rocking motion of the carriage immediately lulled me to sleep. I was awakened by the sound of voices. I blinked and tried to sit up. The carriage had come to a stop. I looked out the window to see two men approaching, both in dark suits, both sweating beneath their hats. William stepped from the carriage and spoke to them. I heard him say laudanum, and the taller man nodded and came to me.

”Mrs. Carelton,” he said in a quiet voice. ”How nice to see you. How are you feeling?” He seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him, and I was too sleepy to try.

He held out his hand for me, and there seemed to be nothing to do but take it. He helped me from the carriage and handed the other man my bag. William came up to me and said, ”They're going to take care of you, Lucy,” in a mild voice that made me afraid.

”Take care of me?” I managed.

”Go with them, darling,” he said.

I began to feel panicked. ”Where are they taking me? Where am I going?”

”You'll go on the steamer into the city,” he said. ”Back to the Row. Your father is waiting there for you.”