Intolerable Civility

Chapter Twenty-Six: A Confessor

With David and Sarah gone, Cate spent the rest of the afternoon alone with Luke, which was not an unhappy way to spend an afternoon. At about four o'clock they had tea and biscuits, which ended up with Luke becoming very jammy, so Cate decided to give him a bath. Luke disagreed and had a tantrum. It was the first time he had ever had a tantrum, and his force of lung and vigour of wail had Cate paralyzed with confusion and made three servants come running to see what was wrong. When Luke was caged in his cot to settle and the splashes cleaned up, another servant came to tell Cate that there was a visitor to see her and gave her a card.

It was a somewhat grimy card, damp and a little wrinkled. Cate winced as she turned it over to read the name, then froze.

Herbert Oliver Esquire

Her fingers trembled and the card slipped from her grasp. Her first instinct was to tell the servant to tell Oliver to come back when David was here, but she had the immediate misgiving that it was cowardly to run to David to solve her problems. Besides, David had as much as promised he would be violent towards Oliver if he saw him again, and even though Cate had nothing but poison in her heart towards Oliver, she could not bear the thought of David bearing the consequences of hurting him.

"Tell him... Tell him to wait in the drawing room downstairs." She could not see him in her own rooms. "I will be down in a minute."

She checked her appearance in the mirror, tidied her hair, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and took three deep breaths. Then she went downstairs to get it over with.

In the drawing room, she found Oliver sitting in a chair like he owned it, waiting for her. He rose when she entered and bowed. There was something strange about his appearance, and after a moment she realized what: he was wearing a new coat, very expensive-looking, of the latest cut. She was used to him wearing frayed clothing at least two years out of date. He never seemed to have any money. Now, even his boots were so neatly polished they gleamed. And was that a jewelled pin in his cravat? Where did this prosperity come from?

She dismissed the question from her mind. It did not matter. His fortune, or lack thereof, was no concern of hers.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

He gave her a toothy smile. "Cate!"

"My friends call me Cate. You can call me Mrs Demery."

His smile did not falter. "Mrs Demery. I am happy to see you so well situated in life after your... maladjustment."

"What are you doing here?" she repeated. "Two years ago, you wanted nothing more to do with me. You have not the right to change your mind now."

Now, the smile faltered. "Cate—"

"Mrs Demery."

"Mrs Demery. I just... To tell you the truth, I... I wanted to see him. The boy. My son."

"Not your son. Never your son. That door is closed. You shut it yourself and I will not let you open it again." Anger, and a fierce desire to protect Luke, gave Cate's words spirit. "You cannot see him. Ever."

Oliver sighed so heavily the dried petals in a bowl of potpourri whirled and the scent of lavender rose over the room. "Then I will never have a son."

"That is no concern of mine."

"I can understand why you feel that way. Indeed, I know I am intruding upon your kindness by being here, but I am in such a position that I felt the need to beg the sympathy for a view through a locked window at a life I can now never have. Let me tell you something, Mrs Demery. I am engaged to be married."

This announcement was given with all the gravity of a confession of mortal illness. Cate squinted at Oliver, more confused than anything else. Then she realized that might be his object, to confound her into asking him for clarity.