House of Glass (12 page)

For a long time I sat there, until I heard a sniffling, chortling noise at my side, and turned to see Maxie, wagging her tail wildly, sitting right on top of my mended nets. Seeing Maxie snapped me out of my trance and I noticed that the sun had moved across the sky. I had been sitting and staring for a long time.

“Maxie!” I cried, and threw my arms around her. The first joy I had felt all day coursed through me. I breathed in the scent of Maxie, and put my face against her. I was delighted. She tried to wriggle into my lap, and almost pulled both of us into the water. We swung a little outward, and I saw a man in the reflection.

Lucas. I turned.

“I looked for you and you were gone,” he said. He sat down beside me. Maxie wiggled between us. “I spoke to Mrs. Amber, she accused you of—”

“I know,” I said quickly, fervently.

“Well,” he replied. He turned to me. “We both know the reason behind that. I don’t ever want to look and not be able to find you.” He threw the words at me like stones, like arrows intended to hurt me. But I saw that he was angry from deep emotion, and that made my heart leap.

It seemed that Maxie could sense my excitement, and she started wiggling again. I hadn’t noticed it before, but something dangled from her neck. A leather collar was wrapped around her neck, and dangling at the center of her chest, right above the white star of fur, was a ring, a yellow diamond fatter than my thumb.

“Lucas,” I whispered. I pulled at the collar and it unwound from Maxie’s neck. The ring slid along the rope and dropped into my open palm.

Lucas took my hand. “Reyna…” he said. He took a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”

Just like all those years ago, Lucas came to the docks and changed my life. “Yes!” I cried out, so loudly that those who were left on the pier turned and looked at us. Lucas drew me to standing, drew me into his arms and kissed me. Maxie clamored around us. I was happy at last.

The evening ferry arrived. It motored into the harbor slowly and bumped against the far dock. There were only a few passengers that late in the day, and they shuffled quickly from the boat, spilling onto the docks. The conductor called out the last call for boarding, his lonely voice echoing over the water. A handful of islanders boarded, and I realized with a shudder that I could have been one of them.

Lucas squeezed my hand suddenly. “I don’t want to wait,” he said. “Let’s go right now to the magistrate’s office and have them marry us.”

“Can they do that?” I asked. “Besides, they’re closed, the sun has set. Business hours are over,” I protested, but the blood in my veins raced along in excitement.

“You’re forgetting. I’m a St. Claire. Come, it’s not far.”

He led me to the offices, just outside the dock area. He pounded on the door and when there was no answer, he strode to a small house that was beside the building. A small wooden sign hung above the door that read Harbormaster.

The man who opened the door had clearly retired for the evening. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his suspenders hung loosely around his hips. “What is it man?” he shouted, but when he saw who it was standing in the darkness, his tone changed. “Sorry, sir.” He nodded. “St. Claire.”

“I need you to open the magistrate’s office. Now. I need a wedding performed.”

“Now? The man’s gone home.” The harbormaster protested.

“You’ll do. You’re a captain. An official. Hell, I’m an official. Grab a lamp, and unlock that door.”

The man did as he was told, scurrying around and gathering the keys and a lamp. He shot quick, curious glances at me, at the dog and finally at Lucas. He unlocked the door to the magistrate’s office and by the light of an oil lamp he dug around for the stamps and paperwork.

When he finally found them, he scribbled our names on the paper and we signed it before he pressed the stamp upon the paper. By the flickering light of the lamp, in a dark office with shadows of the furniture looming all around us and with a white dog at my feet, Lucas and I exchanged vows.

It was the best ceremony that I ever could have wished for, because I was marrying Lucas St. Claire. Those moments were bliss, pure bliss. Even if I’d had the foresight to know the troubles ahead, I would still have married him, because that ceremony was so meaningful and unexpected.

When we arrived at home, the mahogany doors were there waiting for me, and it felt no easier to walk through them. I needn’t have worried, though, because Lucas lifted me high into the air and carried me straight through them. The house was quiet and it was just he and I and we walked quietly down the hall and on to to the next part of our lives.

Chapter Nine

There were footsteps outside the door and soft rapping. I jumped from bed, thinking that I was late for Mrs. Amber, and then I realized where I was and what had happened. Lucas lay beside me in his huge bed, swimming in a tangle of white sheets.

The door opened gently, and Mrs. Amber entered. “Mr. St. Claire,” she said, “are you awake? I have your coffee.” She carried a tray in her hands.

Lucas rolled over and said in a husky voice, “Fine, set it here on the bed.”

Mrs. Amber took a step, and her gaze travelled along the length of the bed, sliding up my body and until resting on my face. “Reyna,” she said in a hiss.

Lucas ran his fingers through his hair. “Mrs. Amber.” There was a note of warning in his voice. “Reyna is Mrs. St. Claire now.”

She took a step back, looked from him to me, and then said, “Sir?”

“We married yesterday.”

She looked at me again, and there was a strange look in her eyes. If I hadn’t known better I would have said it was a look of happiness. She cleared her throat, and set the tray on the bed. “Well, congratulations. To both of you.”

“Perhaps you can help Reyna and I plan a small gathering. Very small. A simple dinner. The staff will be invited, but we will need to work out how to serve it. A few of my business partners. Perhaps in two nights?”

“Of course. We won’t have much in way of supplies, what with only a day of preparation, but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

I was skeptical that a party could be arranged so quickly, but Lucas assured me that it was as simple as a quick word or two. He was right, of course, and the next day all of the arrangements had been made and all I had to do was wait.

On the morning of our wedding celebration, my world fell away from me without so much as a warning. Lucas had gone to visit a business partner and would not be back until later in the afternoon, just before the party. That was when disaster happened.

Mrs. Amber came into the room and announced “Mrs. St. Claire.”

I still had not accustomed myself to being referred to in that manner and my response was slow. “Yes?” I said.

“There’s a Mr. Brent at the door, asking for you. He originally asked for Mr. St. Claire, but I told him Mr. St. Claire was away until this afternoon and then he asked for you.”

“I don’t know any Mr. Brent.”

“I told him as much, but he said it was a matter of urgency. He looks very determined, Mrs. St. Claire.”

“I’ll see him then.”

“I’ll send him in.”

“No, I’ll come with you to the door.”

I met him at the door, where he was waiting, leaning against the frame of the mahogany doors. When he saw me, he startled and straightened himself. “I’m so sorry to intrude, Miss Ferraro.”

“Mrs. St. Claire,” I corrected him.

“Yes. Well.” He held his hat in his hand. “Is Mr. St. Claire not available?”

“No. He’s not. You can speak to me.”

“Very well,” he said.

I noticed for the first time that he was holding a sheet of paper in the other hand. It was rolled up and wrinkled, clutched in his grip. He held it out to me and as my hand accepted the paper, a feeling of unease spread up into my body and settled over me like a shroud. The last thing I wanted to do was open that sheet of paper. “Tell me what is on this paper?”

The man rubbed his chin. “Well, there’s nothing to do but just to say it. I come from the courthouse, and the judge has denied your marriage.”

“Denied?” There was a ringing in my ears, a hollow, far-away sound.

“I’m afraid so. When Celeste St. Claire disappeared…”

The ringing became louder.

“Well, she can’t be declared dead for two more years still. So Mr. St. Claire is already married and his license to you is bigamy, and denied.”

His words were like a vine growing around my heart, squeezing it tighter and tighter. I felt the life drain from my body, and I almost crumpled to the ground, but somehow I managed to nod my head without falling, and mumbled the words, “I see.”

“I’m very sorry. Truly.”

“I understand. I do.”

When the man left, I shut the door behind him and leaned against it. I rubbed my eyes. Not married. Not dead. A party that started in an hour.

Chapter Ten

I confess that my first instinct was to run. There was nothing to do but to run. The old mare was in her stall and I saddled her quickly, and swept onto her back. I was just about to spur her into a gallop when Mrs. Amber appeared and ran in front of the mare, stopping me cold. She grabbed the reins and the horse whinnied in protest.

Mrs. Amber was so angry that her face was almost chiseled in stone. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Didn’t you hear the man? I’m not Mrs. St. Claire.”

“Of course I heard the man. There’s nothing that happens that I don’t know about.”

“Then you know why I have to leave.” I yanked at the reins, but she held them tight.

“I know no such thing. You have to turn around and walk right back inside.”

“And be what? An adulterer?”

“Listen to me, girl. You will be whatever you need to be, but you will not leave this house. If you leave now, you will never be Mrs. St. Claire. Ever. Stake your claim and defend it.”

I felt desperate and cruel and spoke without any thought to my words. “That’s easy for you to say. Alone your whole life. Bitter. Is that what you did? Staked your claim and then lost? You know nothing.”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “Foolish girl. I know everything there is to know of love and youth. I know about deception and lies, too. And I know most of all about pretending. Trust me in this: I guarantee that if you leave, everyone, the servants, his business partners, they will all know you are afraid to claim what belongs to you, and most of all if Lucas St. Claire knows you’re afraid of it—then you are doomed. Doomed. You will spend the rest of your life pretending that you’ve never loved. Pretending it’s okay, that you can survive. And trust me, you can survive, but you’ll never live again.”

Such a passion I had never seen in her. She was alight with a determination. She threw the reins back at me. “Go then. Go on and leave. Hear my words, girl, before you go. I am telling you not as Mrs. Amber, but as someone who cares for you. Take a good look before you leave here, because it’s the last time you’ll ever see it. And if you don’t fight for it, frankly, you don’t deserve to see it again.” She walked away stiff as a board in her black shirt and severe hair.

* * *

It was such a shock of reality from Mrs. Amber that it left me in a daze. I stabled the horse and wandered, craving a place where I could sort everything out. Without even thinking I went to the one place that offered me a clear view of the world, and seemed to infuse me with certainty.

The cottage was surprisingly bright and cheery. The gold statue was there, and today she seemed almost to be waiting for me. I traced my finger along her arm, her face and hair. She was no pretender. What was it that Mrs. Amber had told me? That I needed to claim what was mine.

Perhaps that is why I did what I did next. I cannot even say that I planned it, or even recalled walking to her bedroom. The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the full-length mirror wearing one of Celeste’s dresses, a long, clingy blue gown. It fit my body perfectly, and was cool and slippery against my skin. I turned around in the mirror, noting the way it hugged my curves. The slit up the thigh exposed my skin almost all the way up to my hip.

Somehow, the dress bolstered my spirits. I no longer felt confused or overwhelmed, but had a rather catlike assurance about myself. I had become the pretender, and I was good at it.

With no hesitation at all, I sat at Celeste’s dressing table. Her brush felt perfect in my hand, her combs like they were made for me. I piled my hair high upon my head and fastened the peacock brooch just above the slit in the dress. Her shoes still fit perfectly, those diamond-crusted heels that changed the shape of my silhouette, pushing my breasts outward. It was as if I had become Celeste, a darker version of her, and I felt perfectly prepared for the party as I left her room.

When I walked across the glass floor, for the first time I understood exactly why she had the floor placed there. I stood perfectly still, watching the water break over the rocks below, violent and unchecked. She wanted the floor—no—she needed it as a reminder of what life would be like without the glass house to support her.

Chapter Eleven

The party was a complete success, except for the fact that it brought about my own downfall. A lot of people showed up and I saw that Lucas was right, that all it took was a word or two, and everyone would come see the woman who married the St. Claire. I descended the stairs, and with each step I took more people turned to look at me. The whole room stilled and grew quiet. I wondered for a moment if this was how Celeste felt, the last night she wore this dress. It didn’t matter, though, because everyone’s eyes were on me, and I sought out Lucas, from whom I most craved approval.

I saw him, apart from the rest of the crowd, staring at me with an expression that I couldn’t quite decipher. There were people everywhere, bumping into me, talking to me and asking me questions, and when I looked up again he was gone.

I found Mrs. Amber, who gave me a quick nod of approval.
Whatever it takes,
I thought to myself, and realized that she was right. Good or bad, I would stake my claim.

“Drink, Miss?” It was a new maid, holding a tray laden with glasses of champagne.