Page 23 of The Beautiful Ones

Nathaniel stood upon the threshold.

Mud darkened his boots and the lower edge of his naval coat. Rain had flattened his hair against his forehead. He looked exhausted, but there was a terrible purpose in his face that frightened me more than exhaustion should have.

I rose so quickly that the bench scraped across the floor.

“N-N-N—”

“It is all right,” he said. “I know.”

He closed the door but did not come farther into the room.

“Your father has forbidden me the house. I will honor that after tonight.”

I shook my head.

“The engagement is finished, Cécile.”

Another shake, harder this time.

His expression softened, and that kindness nearly broke me.

“You need not defend what existed between us. Your parents arranged it, and now they have withdrawn it. You bear no blame for either decision.”

That was not true. I had allowed them to speak for me. I had stood before Mother with a thousand words burning inside my mind and given her nothing she could not ignore.

Nathaniel approached the pianoforte and placed several handwritten pages upon its lid.

“I prepared this arrangement for you before everything changed.”

I touched the first page. His name appeared in the upper corner, written in the strong, slanted hand I knew from his letters.

“You should keep it,” he said. “Whatever else they take from you, do not let them persuade you that your music belongs to them.”

I pressed the pages against my chest.

Below us, a door slammed. My father’s voice carried through the hall.

Nathaniel looked toward the sound.

“I discovered something during my final command,” he said quickly. “Records that should not exist and cargo that was never reported. Your father knows why my name has been ruined. So do Judge Dewey and Mr. George.”

The blood seemed to leave my hands.

Nathaniel stepped nearer, lowering his voice.

“If they tell you I fled Virginia, do not believe them.”

I stared at him.

“I have written to friends who understand what these men have done. If the letter reaches them, they will come.”

“Wh-who?”

A floorboard groaned in the gallery.

Nathaniel glanced toward the door.

“There is no time.”