“He’ll see the broken bottles when he comes home,” Belinda says dazedly. “He’ll know we know.”
“I hope he does see them. We’re leaving here at first light anyway, and he won’t know you’re with me. He’ll arrive home to an empty house and think I opened the bottles and found the gold all on my own. And then he’ll come upstairs and unlock his desk and he’ll see all his precious papers are gone.”
“And then what will he do?” Belinda says, fear in her voice.
“If the police are doing their job, they will be watching for him to return and they’ll arrest him. If they aren’t, he’ll run. He’ll have to. I have the papers. He’ll know I’ll go right to the police. He can’t stay here.”
“But what if he comes to me?”
“He won’t. Your marriage certificate is in that pile of documents, too. He can’t risk going back to your place. The police will know all about you and the gold he tried to steal from you and the gold hedidsteal from you. This isn’t all there was, Belinda. He’ll take what he’s already stolen from your mine and he’ll run.”
Belinda places a hand over her belly. She looks exhausted. “And what do I do then? I just... I just go home to have this babyon my own? Am I widowed? An unmarried mother? Abandoned? What am I?”
“You are someone who’s been wronged—that’s who you are. And don’t ever think it’s too terrible a thing to bear a child alone. Be grateful you can have one. Not all of us can.”
I don’t mean to sound hurtful, but I know I do. I thrust the jar of gold toward her.
She doesn’t reach out her hand.
“Take it,” I say.
Belinda looks at the jar in disgust. “I don’t want it.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“The gold is yours!”
“I said I don’t want it! My father died trying to dig it out, and apparently it’s the only reason James wanted me. You take it. You’ll need it more than I will. What will you have when you leave this house? Nothing. Take it.”
I stare at her for a moment, nearly overcome with the desire to embrace her as a friend, the first I’ve had since I can’t remember when. She is right. I do need it.
“We can discuss this later,” I say, as I kick the shards away from our path back to the stairs. “Right now you need to get back home and Kat and I need to pack our bags so we can leave at first light. Martin might be home tomorrow. Kat and I need to be well on our way before he arrives.”
“But I’ve missed the last train,” Belinda says as she follows me. “It left the station just after six.”
I am surprised to find myself somewhat comforted by this news; it means I won’t feel so defeated and alone tonight, with just quiet Kat for company. Kat, the child I love and can’t keep.“Then you’ll stay here tonight with Kat and me. We’ll all leave together at daybreak.”
“There are no trains that early.”
“We’ll... we’ll get a carriage to take us to the nearest train station out of the city. You’ll go home and Kat and I will continue on to Arizona.”
I know this is what I must do. I am obligated by integrity to take Kat to her mother. This is what I would want done for me if our places were reversed.
I make for the stairs, suddenly realizing I haven’t fed Kat her supper and the day is gone. I need to make us all something to eat and then pack Kat’s and my things. And at some point I need to ring the sanatorium to make sure Candace is indeed still alive and well enough for visitors. And then, somehow, I need to find a way to tell Kat her mother isn’t dead after all.
Belinda is still full of questions as she takes the stairs behind me. “When are you going to telephone the police? How will I know when he’s been arrested? Will there be a trial? Will I have to come back and testify against him? Am I supposed to tell people back home I am not married? What am I going to tell Elliot?”
“For the love of heaven, we don’t know the answers to those questions!” I call out over my shoulder. “No one does. Let us just get through today.”
We enter the kitchen. Kat has left her drawings and crayons on the butler’s table and I see she has run out of paper. Perhaps she has gone back upstairs to fetch more.
I step out of the kitchen to call up the stairs to her, but as I enter the foyer, I see her in the library at Martin’s desk. She has a piece of paper in her hand and is reading it.
Candace’s letter.
Kat is sounding out the words in Candace’s beautiful handwriting. The letters are in script, and she doesn’t know the cursive letters well. But she does know them.
