lips still moving, her only words ‘No, no
He slapped her hard, and caught her so she wouldn’t fall. He saw her blink, shudder, then cry out softly. Gently he drew her against him, rocking her in the circle of his arms. ‘It’s all right now, Jules. Everything is all right. No man will ever hurt you again. I promise.’
And he included himself in that promise. He drew a sigh of relief when she slumped against him and began to cry. He was becoming stiff in the kneeling position, and slowly sat down, pulling Jules down beside him. He kept her face pressed against his chest, his arm supporting her.
‘He’s sending me to Canada,’ she whispered in a deadened voice, ‘to Toronto, to live with his older sister Marie, who’s a spinster and does good works. He said he wouldn’t abide my shame here, wouldn’t abide all the shame I’ve brought on his family.’
Saint closed his eyes a moment. God, what was he to do now? He said, ‘I will speak to your father, Jules. He will not send you to Canada.’
Jules wanted to tell him that there was absolutely nothing he could do, but she didn’t say it. He’d already saved her; he’d already done much too much for her.
‘John said that I’d given it to you.’
What a way to talk about sex, Saint
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thought, so angered at John Bleecher that if the young man had appeared, he would have started beating him again, with great relish.
He clamped down on his anger and said quietly, ‘John Bleecher is a spoiled, thoughtless little rich bastard. I don’t know what your sister said to him, but I fully intend to speak my mind to her!’
He felt Jules’s head shaking against his chest. ‘No, please, Saint,’ she said. ‘Sarah loves him and she … let John have her. He’s got to marry her. She’s just afraid that he won’t, now that I’m still alive.’
‘She deserves to be horsewhipped.’
To Saint’s relief, he heard Jules laugh. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but it was a start. She was resilient, his Jules. ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘And you may be certain that I’ll blister her ears.’
‘Good. And you may be certain that I’ll speak to your father. Canada, for God’s sake!’
Saint faced Reverend Etienne DuPres across the man’s huge mahogany desk. What a paltry, mean-spirited specimen he was, Saint thought. No humor, no love, just the kind of fanaticism that kills the spirit, doesn’t save it. He said without preamble, ‘I’ve come about Jules.’
‘Her name is Juliana,’ DuPres said, distaste plain on his face.
‘Fine. In any case, I’ve come to speak to you about your younger daughter. She told me that you intend to send her to Canada.’
‘Yes, that’s right. I will not abide her presence here any longer than I must. She is a blight on her family. My sister will take her in hand.’
‘May I ask why you consider her a blight?’ Saint asked calmly, too calmly.
‘Come, Dr. Morris,’ DuPres said, his hands shaking with disgust, ‘I have no doubt that you, along with many others, have enjoyed my daughter’s body. I will abide no harlot in my house.’
‘Didn’t you listen to her? Didn’t you hear what she had to say? None of it was her fault, and, I might add, she is still a virgin. She is the furthest thing from a harlot. She is pure and innocent.’
And she’s been hurt, God, hurt so much. ‘Dr. Morris, I understand that many men, once they’ve taken a woman, don’t wish to be bothered with her anymore, you included, evidently. I am her father, more’s the pity, and I shall do what I believe best. Now, sir, you will excuse me.’
Saint wanted to hit him-, but he remembered John Bleecher’s bloody face and moans
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of pain. He remembered how he’d sworn never to hit another who had not his strength. He stared a moment at Jules’s father, wishing he could fathom the way the man’s mind worked, but he couldn’t, of course. He also realized that there was nothing more he could say. He knew now what he had to do. He knew he had absolutely no choice in the matter. He said nothing more, merely turned and strode out of the man’s study and his house.