"What's going on between you and Quentin?"
Barnabas asked, his voice filling the quiet room.
"Nothing," Angelique said,
looking out the window. "We're just friends.
Did you want to discuss something?"
"Yes. Sarah will be needing
a governess. I'll notify the employment agency tomorrow
and you can interview the applicants."
"As you wish."
"The final decision will be mine,
however." He expected her to blow up at him, refuse
to abide by his edicts, but her continued examination of the gardens
outside the window bothered him.
"Of course." She sighed.
"Is that all?"
He watched her for a long moment.
"I believe so."
"Then I'll go check on Sarah
- if I have your permission?"
He opened the door and stood back
for her to pass.
The ceremony was simply and for a brief moment, when her eyes met his, Angelique knew that Barnabas was, like herself, recalling another ceremony at the Old House. But this time there were differences. Elizabeth had picked some roses from the garden and fashioned a bouquet for Angelique to carry. And unlike that long ago ceremony, the entire family was in attendance and approved of the marriage. Sarah watched everything from her seat of honor, and was delighted to be allowed to drink a glass of ginger-ale while the adults had champagne. She was even give the job of making the first toast to her parents.
At last they left for the Old House,
and from the moment she saw it, Sarah was in love. "It's
beautiful," she cried. "Is that a swing over there?"
she asked.
Recalling the day that he and Jerimiah
had put up the original swing, Barnabas smiled. "Yes,
it is."
"May I go and swing?"
"I think we'll wait until tomorrow.
Right now, why don't we go inside and see your new home?"
"And Willie?" she asked.
"And Willie."
That gentleman was waiting in the
entryway. "Hello, Sarah," he said, his smile wide.
"Hello, Willie."
His smile didn't change when he saw
Angelique hesitating on the threshold. "Angelique.
Maybe I should say Mrs. Collins?"
Angelique smiled. "Angelique
will do, Willie," she said, strangely grateful for his welcome.
"Their cases are in the car,
Willie," Barnabas told him.
"I'll go and get them."
Sarah had wandered into the parlour,
her gaze fixed on the portrait over the mantle. "Would
you like to see your room, Sarah?" Barnabas asked.
"Oh, yes, please."
Angelique followed them up to the
first Sarah's room, and remained near the door as the child exclaimed
over it. "I love it! It's like -like something
from a story book." She sat down on the bed and picked up
the china and cloth doll. "How pretty. It looks
very old."
"It is. Another little
girl played with that doll in this very room. It was her
favorite toy along with the reed flute that her brother made for
her."
Sarah's eyes were wide. "Really?"
"It's true. Her name was
Sarah Collins too."
"Sarah Collins." Her
face fell. "But I'm not. Not legally."
"Of course you are."
She shook her head. "No.
Your marriage was annulled before I was born. The name on
my birth certificate isn't Collins. It's Blair."
"That's easily taken care of.
I'll call my attorney and have him make the arrangements.
Until then, no one will object to your using the name."
Angelique had gone still, her face
pale as she saw the doll in her daughter's hands. It was
the same one she had used to make Sarah so ill - the same one
she had threatened Sarah's life with that awful night so long
ago - She realized that Barnabas and Sarah were watching her.
"Are you all right, Mother? You look - upset."
"No, dear. I'm- just a
little tired, that's all. And you must be as well."
"A little," she admitted
reluctantly.
"Why don't you rest until dinner,
then?" Angelique suggested, watching as the doll was
placed at her side.
"Only if Father promises to show
me around the entire house later."
"I promise."
Angelique tucked the child in.
"Do you think you can find your way back downstairs?"
"Yes."
"Pleasant dreams, then."
She smoothed the light brown hair gently.
Downstairs, Barnabas poured a glass
of port for Angelique and a sherry for himself. "I
believe she's going to like it here."
"Did you doubt it? She-
picks up on other people's feelings. She senses how much
this house means to you -so it's important to her as well."
"Where were you living in Paris?"
"I had an apartment. I
had planned to buy a house out of the city, but she became ill
-"
"Was she healthy before then?"
"She's never been very strong.
But she's such a sweet natured child. I've never heard her
complain about her illness -beyond anger at herself for being
so tired all the time. She's been more concerned about me
and how it's affecting me. She was quite upset the
last time I turned down an assignment."
A telephone's ring brought a look
of surprised curiousity to her face. Reading it, Barnabas
smiled slightly. "I have a telephone installed when
I opened the yards. There are three: one in the kitchen,
one in the study, and one in the hall upstairs."
"I didn't notice it."
Willie appeared in the doorway.
"Excuse me, Barnabas. There's a Mr. Bender on the telephone.
He insists on talking to you."
Barnabas put his glass down.
"He's a prospective client," Barnabas told Angelique.
"I'll be in the study."
Angelique watched him go with a frown.
"Does he often work on Sunday, Willie?"
"He's been working seven days
a week. It'll be good for him to have you and Sarah around
to take his mind off of the yards."
"I don't understand, Willie.
You sound pleased that Barnabas and I are married."
"I am. This place is too
big for just Barnabas and me. We were going a little crazy
until Roger went out of town and asked Barnabas to stay at Collinwood
while he was gone."
Angelique smile was rueful.
"I suppose I'm just feeling a bit unnecessary. You
run the house extremely well, and right now, I don't think Sarah
would even miss me."
"I doubt that. And I'd
welcome your help running this place. I got an idea.
Why don't we sit down tomorrow and go over the week's menu?
You can tell me what foods you and Sarah like."
"Thank you, Willie."
"I'd better go check on dinner."
Angelique blew out the last candle,
then lay on the bed. The evening had been pleasant
-if rather strained. Sarah had fallen even more in love
with the house, and had insisted that they both tuck her
in for the night.
After leaving her room, Angelique
turned to Barnabas. "I think I'll go on to bed as well.
It's been an exhausting day."
"Good night, then," was
all Barnabas said as he turned toward the stairs.
"Barnabas-" Angelique called
softly, uncertain of what she was going to say.
He looked at her, and in the shadowed
corridor, for moment she had seen something in his eyes, something
she thought long dead. "Yes?"
It was gone as quickly as it had come,
and Angelique began to doubt she'd seen it at all. "G-Good
night." For all her claim of exhaustion, Angelique
was finding sleep elusive.
Barnabas sat back in his chair,
disgusted by his lack of concentration. Knowing that Angelique
was on the floor above, no doubt asleep in her bed, made working
difficult. He stood and went over to pour himself a large
measure of brandy. Normally he
disliked the strong liquor, but tonight, he needed something
to take his mind off of his wife.
His wife. Angelique was
indeed his wife again. And no matter what else had happened
between them, Barnabas still wanted her. He could go up
there right now, and lay claim to his rights as her husband .
. .
Angelique heard his approach and sat up to fix her gaze on the door. The footsteps came to a halt outside and in the dim glow of the banked fire, she saw the doorknob being turned. She held her breath, waiting. It seemed an eternity before the knob was released, and Barnabas continued on his way down the hall to his own room. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Angelique laid back down, drawing the covers over her, refusing to give her tears release.
Once in his room, Barnabas sat
down wearily before the fire. He had promised Angelique
a marriage of convenience, and there were already too many broken
promises between them. But dear God, he wanted her.
That had been the only constant in their stormy relationship.
Even at her worst, Angelique still managed to touch some responsive
cord in his soul.
Sleep finally overtook him, and he
found solace in dreams about those early days and nights in Martinique.