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"Yes, but what about Tony? He might find out; he would be furious and would end the construction of that factory in Winnerow. And if the folks in Winnerow found out why, you could never, ever go home to the Willies again, Heaven. You, yourself, know how much incest goes on in the hills. People there would condemn you as just another hillbilly. The people in the Willies would resent you for destroying their newfound hope, their only chance to better themselves. You would be more alone than ever."
"I wouldn't be alone if I were with you," I pleaded, clinging to him as if for dear life.
"Could you live with yourself, knowing what kind of pain you imposed on poor Logan? None of this is his fault. You admit yourself that he is devoted to you, that he loves you dearly. Is this your way of repaying him?"
"Oh, Troy." His arguments tore at my frail bubble of joy. I felt crushed, my rainbow world crushed by truth and reality, and I hated it. I searched my thoughts for a way to overcome the inevitable end.
He got up from the bed and walked to the window. I watched him staring out at the dark world in silence, hot tears now streaming down my face.
"Don't think there isn't a part of me that wants to encourage you to do it. I told you, I came back hoping to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what the consequences, but that was before all this. There are too many people to hurt now. Oh, we could be happy for a short while, but Heaven"--he sighed, turning back to me--"neither of us is insensitive enough to live with the pain we would cause. You know I am right about that, don't you?" he asked softly. I nodded and he came to me. He kissed away my hot tears and stroked my hair.
"I can't give you up. I can't!" I cried.
"My poor, precious Heaven," Troy soothed.
"Troy," I said, straightening up quickly, a childlike excitement returning to my voice, "why can't we have it both ways? Don't leave the cottage. Don't leave Farthinggale. I'll come to you whenever I can. No one need ever know. The tunnels our ancestors built will become a blessing, a way to link us forever and ever."
"Oh, my darling," he said. "Don't you realize that would be even more painful for us? Every time you left me to go back to Logan, every time we heard some sound near the cottage and jumped in fear, we would suffer additional agony. And how long would it be before Logan would realize that your kisses were restrained? That you were holding yourself back for another man?
"A man can sense that, you know. I don't care how busy he is, when he comes home at night and looks for tenderness and love, he will feel that your heart is somewhere else. There you will be denying his accusations, covering up, living like some sort of criminal or spy. Maybe he would employ one of the servants to watch you while he was away. Maybe he would complain to Tony, who would soon realize what was going on,
"And after the truth was revealed, how would you feel about yourself? How could you face Logan? No, darling Heaven. It would be even worse for us to carry on in secret, traveling through the underground tunnels, meeting when Logan was away or you could steal an hour here, an hour there.
"Our love, our precious, beautiful love would become something sordid, sneaky, even ugly."
"And do you know what would eventually happen? Eventually you would come to resent me for it," he said. Then he gently ran the palm of his hand down the side of my face. I closed my eyes at his touch.
"What makes you so wise?" I asked him.
"I'd rather not be, believe me. You know that the things I am telling you are true, don't you? You realize how painful it is and will be for me to deny you?"
"Yes," I said. "I know because I know how painful it is for me."
We stared at each other in the darkness, our eyes lit by the moon. We were like two stars blinking at each other in the night sky, so bright, so eager to touch and become one, and yet so distant.
"Go back, Heaven," he whispered sadly. I reached out and touched his lips with the tip of my fingers to silence him.
"Not yet," I said. "If we have stolen one precious time, one night more together, let us enjoy it together until the end. I want to lie here beside you until the first light of morning. Then I will rise quietly and leave your bed forever."
He said nothing. He didn't resist. He kissed my neck and drew me back down to him. We fell asleep in each other's arms afterward, but I awoke at the break of day, just as I had promised. I was facing the window, and I watched as the morning light began to lift away the veil of darkness. I had hoped the night would go on forever, but morning had come, just as truth and reality had, just as all the things Troy had said would happen would come. There was no denying time. Our love was too fragile, too private to hold back the flood of minutes and hours, days and months, all the years we would be without each other.
My heart felt like a brick in my chest. Gently I untangled myself from his embrace. Troy was locked in sleep. He looked like a little boy, dreaming of holiday happiness, perhaps dreaming of some tiny new Tatterton Toy. Maybe it was a toy world in which two people like us could share their love without restraint.
I slipped silently from the bed and put on my nightgown and peignoir. I got back into my slippers and went out to-the kitchen to get a match to light the candle in my holder. When I looked back at Troy, he was still asleep, his eyes shut tight, his lips closed gently. I thought about going to him and kissing him once more, but I was afraid to wake him. It was better for him and for me that I simply go. Perhaps when he finally awoke, he would think it had all been a dream. Perhaps after I got back to my suite and into my bed, I would think it had all been a dream. Perhaps it had all been a dream.
I closed the door behind me and made my way down the stairs into the cellar and then started through the tunnels. All was quiet. The voices that had escorted me during the night had been silenced by our lovemaking. There were no faces on the walls. I passed through the darkness swiftly and made my way up the stairs, through the back of the kitchen and into the great house. It was still early enough for all to be quiet. No one had yet stirred.
I went up the stairs and paused in the corridor. The strong morning sun was beginning to lift away the dimness and the chill that accompanied it. Without further hesitation I went toward my suite. But just before I reached the door, I heard a horrible scream echo down the corridor. I turned as Martha Goodman came running out of Jillian's suite, her hands pressed against her cheeks. She turned in a circle until she saw me standing there.
"Heaven!" she screamed "Come quickly! Quickly!"
I rushed down the corridor just as Tony, dressed in his blue silk robe, emerged from his suite. He looked at me and I raised my arms to indicate I knew nothing. We both followed Martha into Jillian's bedroom and discovered what it was that had caused her hysteria.
Jillian was slumped in her soft velvet vanity chair facing the empty mirror frame. Her arms dangled over the sides. She was dressed in her black wool crepe suit trimmed with a mink collar and cuffs. From beneath her jacket peeked a glittering black chiffon blouse. I remembered her in that outfit. I remembered how beautiful she had looked, how stunning, how like a diamond set against black velvet.
The room reeked of
her jasmine perfume, suggesting she had bathed herself in it. Her hair was pinned up with pearl combs and she had been at her face again, caking it with makeup, staring into an illusion of herself and going through those long, intricate beauty rituals that used to take up so much of her time.
