home of Amelia’s parents, Lord and Lady Waverleigh. Thomas had taken over the
management of the estate so that Lord Waverleigh could travel to Jamaica. Lady
Waverleigh said he had become enthralled with voodoo and wanted to study it up
close. She just shook her head, smiled at her very handsome, very distracted
husband, and said she didn’t mind. She was ready to have her bones heated, and
she heard that the sun was so bright in the West Indies that she would surely
get her wish.
Shortly thereafter, I once more went to Caroline’s music room. I walked to the
center of the room and just stood there. I walked to the window and looked out
at my husband speaking to his valet Boynton. I heard the door close. I didn’t
turn. Then I heard something behind me, but it didn’t frighten me, not in the
least. I slowly turned, but naturally there was nothing there, at least nothing
I could see. I felt a deep, consuming weariness. And suddenly there was great
warmth, as if someone had lit a fire and it had caught very quickly. I was tired
and warm, and I eased myself down on the floor. I felt the warmth flow through
me. I felt an immense sense of peace, and then I fell asleep.
When John, his face white, leaned over me, I just smiled up at him and said, “Caroline
is fine now. Everything is all right.”
There was no menace now in the Black Chamber. Lawrence had been the evil, and he
was dead. I had the small room painted white the following day, laid a lush
white carpet on the floor, and white curtains at the single window. Judith liked
to come to that room. She furnished it with a lovely Louis XV desk and small
settee. She set her mother’s harp in the corner. A pianoforte soon joined it.
She announced, that the White Chamber was now her music room. Caroline, I
thought, you would be so proud of her.
Before Amelia and Thomas had left after Easter, she eyed my big belly and told
me she was also pregnant. Even as she spoke to me, she couldn’t take her eyes
off Thomas. She now had everything, she said. She was mistress of her own home,
she would have a child, and, oh, goodness, just look at Thomas?and I did, of
course. He was beautiful, nothing new in that, but more than that, he hadn’t
been felled by a single cold, a single twitch, not even a single crisis of
nerves. Actually, truth be told, he looked like a god now, completely fit, his
face tanned from working with the farmers, another activity Lord Waverleigh
recommended to keep him healthy. John just looked at his brother and grinned.
Miss Crislock died the preceding November, which, I suppose, was a blessing for
her. It still brought me pain when I thought of her and what she had become.
As for my husband, the proud papa, in the days following Jarrod’s birth, he
whistled a great deal, and laughed, and caught me behind a dressing screen to
kiss me and tell me that he would allow me to drink brandy with him at dinner
that night.
Life, I thought, as I smiled at my sleeping small son, was very sweet. But
having life, I knew that I had to savor every blessed moment. I looked up when
John came into our bedchamber. He had a bunch of beautiful blooming flowers in
his hands. “From the Batherstoke’s greenhouse, where our Miss Bennington used to
live. The flowers are in appreciation for bringing George into her life and into
theirs.”
I heard George barking outside. John had inadvertently closed the door. I looked
over at all of George’s offspring nestled together in the big basket by the
fireplace, Miss Bennington licking them.
John let George in, and he marched immediately to the basket. He took his post,
standing tall, his topknot quivering, his tail waving gently to and fro, their
protector.
I laughed and hugged my son and his proud papa to me.