Neferet's Curse (House of Night Novellas #3)(31)

“I realize that your parents know what is best, and I want to do the right thing. I am just so afraid. And, Arthur, I must admit to you another secret.”

“You may admit anything to me!”

“Each moment I spend away from you is an agony for me. It is forward and improper for me to admit it, but it is the truth.”

“Come here, Emily. Sit beside me.” I’d sat close to him and leaned against him. He’d encircled me with his arm. “It is not improper for you to admit your feelings for me. We are practically engaged. And I have already admitted that I spend every moment thinking of you. Would it ease your mind if I spoke to my parents and asked them to try to find an excuse to shorten our courtship period?”

“Oh, Arthur, yes! That would soothe my nerves ever so much!”

“Then consider it done. We will work this out together and someday soon you will know you have nothing more to fear from life except that your husband overindulges your every whim.”

I’d rested my head on his shoulder and felt such a wonderful sense of well-being that the foreboding that had been shadowing me suddenly lifted, and I was finally, finally warm again.

I give my oath that I do not embellish, nor do I fantasize about what happened next. As we sat there together, within the shelter of my willow, the moon lifted high enough to send silver, illuminating light down on the fountain, lending the white bull and his maiden an otherworldly luster. The statues appeared to glow, almost as if the moonlight had breathed life into them.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” I’d whispered reverently, feeling as if I was somehow in the presence of the divine.

“The moonlight is lovely,” he’d said hesitantly. “But I must admit to you that your fountain is rather disturbing.”

I’d been surprised. Still under the spell of the shining moon, I’d lifted my head so that I could look into his eyes. “Disturbing?” I’d shaken my head, not understanding. “But it is Zeus and Europa—and it isn’t my fountain. It was Mother’s fountain. Father gifted her with it as a wedding present.”

“I don’t mean to criticize your father, but that seems an inappropriate gift for a young wife.” Arthur’s gaze had gone back to the moon-bathed fountain. “Emily, I know you are an innocent, and this is a subject better not discussed, but do you not realize Zeus rapes the maiden Europa after he, in bull form, steals her away?”

I’d tried to view the fountain with his eyes, but still all I saw was the strength and majesty of the bull, and the nubile beauty of the maiden. Then, for some reason, my voice spoke words that until then I had only considered silently.

“What if Europa went with Zeus willingly? What if she really loved him and he her, and it was only those who did not want them to be together—did not want them to have a happy ending—who called it rape?”

Arthur had chuckled and patted my arm patronizingly. “What a sweet romantic you are! I find I like your version of the myth better than the lewd one I know.”

“Lewd? I have never considered it such.” I’d stared at the fountain—Mother’s fountain—now my fountain, and the warmth Arthur had made me feel began to cool.

“Of course you wouldn’t. You know nothing of lewdness, my sweet Emily.”

When he’d patted my shoulder again I’d had to force myself not to shrug away from his condescending touch.

“But speaking of fountains and gardens and such reminds me, my mother has begun supervising plans for extensive gardens on the grounds of Simpton House. She shared with me that she will be excited to have your input, especially as Simpton House will someday be your home.”

I’d felt a jolt of unease then, though in retrospect it was foolish of me. In all the fantasizing and planning I’d done about my future and my escape, I’d not considered that I might be moving from one gilded cage to another.

“So, we will live with your parents, here in Chicago, after we are married?” I’d asked.

“Of course! Where else? I am sure we could not reside comfortably at Wheiler House, not with your father in such a disagreeable temperament.”

“No, I would not want to live here,” I’d assured him. “I suppose I thought you might consider returning to New York. Your father still has business interests there that need to be looked after, does he not?”

“Indeed he does, but my sisters’ husbands are more than competent in that respect. No, Emily, I have no desire to leave Chicago. This city has my heart. It’s ever changing. There is always something new happening here—always another excitement, a new discovery, rising with the dawn.”

“I’m afraid I know little about that.” I’d tried not to sound as cold and bitter as I felt. “For me, Chicago has shrunk to Wheiler House.”

“There is nothing wrong with being an innocent, Emily. That is an intriguing form of excitement and discovery of its own.”

He’d shocked me then by pulling me rather roughly into his arms and kissing me thoroughly. I’d allowed him the kiss, and a long, hot caress of my back when he slid his hand inside my loosened dressing gown. His touch had not repulsed me, but as I consider back I must admit, if only here in my silent journal, that I enjoyed his attentions much more when I initiated them. The urgency of his mouth had felt awkward and almost invasive.