Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [35]
Saint smiled toward Jules and said pleasantly, “You are the luckiest family alive. Your daughter is safe and well.”
Before he could explain further, Reverend DuPres said, his voice even colder, “We understood that Juliana had drowned. She was forbidden to swim, but that is another matter. I would like to know what happened to her, and how you got her.”
“I was taken by a man who wanted to sell me,” Jules said. “In San Francisco. Michael saved me.”
There was a moan from Mrs. DuPres, and Saint prayed the damned woman wouldn’t faint again. Sarah said in a shrill voice, “Taken? Whatever do you mean? Why would anyone do that?”
Jules said in her clear, sweet voice, “His name is Jameson Wilkes. I believe you’ve met him, Father. He decided I was well-enough-looking, and took me to San Francisco. He wanted to sell me to a man so I would be a mistress.”
Thomas DuPres roared, “Damnation, Jules! That miserable bastard . . . God, I’ll kill him!”
“You will be silent, Thomas,” Reverend DuPres said. “So,” he continued, looking down at his daughter, “you were in the company of this evil man for two weeks, and he debauched you.”
Jules paled. “If you mean by ‘debauched’ that he . . . hurt me, no, he didn’t. He wanted to save me because he would get more money for me if I were a virgin.”
“How dare you speak like that in front of your mother and sister! Merciful Lord, to be cursed with such—”
“That’s quite enough.” Saint rose, his very size intimidating, his quiet voice instantly reducing Reverend DuPres to silence. “Your daughter is safe and well. She was not debauched. And even if she had been, I don’t see that it would matter. What matters, sir, is that your daughter is with you again.”
Etienne DuPres said nothing. He’d done his best by the girl. But she was willful, just as her scarlet-haired grandmother had been. She shouldn’t have come back. He felt rage flow through him, rage and shame. He looked at her again, then walked from the room.
Jules sat before the small dressing table, slowly brushing her hair. She didn’t look up when Sarah came into their bedroom.
“I am glad you are alive, Juliana,” Sarah said.
Then why do I want to shiver at your tone? Jules wondered. “Thank you,” she said, not breaking count with her hairbrush.
“You’ve been gone well over a month. Everyone was very upset. Father preached a marvelous sermon for you. He touched but once on your disobedience and your perfidy in swimming in the ocean.”
“Now he can unpreach it,” Jules said.
Sarah, as was her habit, stepped behind the narrow screen to undress. “John is going to marry me.”
Jules raised her head at that, looking toward the screen in the mirror. His affections were short-lived, she thought. But she wasn’t angry at him; she was immensely relieved. “I am glad for you,” she said. “John is very nice.”
Sarah fingered the buttons on her long nightgown. “I saw how he was looking at you this afternoon. But he won’t go back to you. Not now. Not after what you’ve done.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Jules said.
“So you say,” Sarah said. “As for Saint, well, you’re better off with him. You should have stayed with him.”
I wanted to, but he didn’t want me.
Jules turned on the stool and eyed her sister silently for a long moment. She would be pretty if only she would smile—not just her mouth, but her eyes. Her hair, unlike Jules’s, was a soft brown and didn’t fly about her head in wild curls. “Sarah,” she asked quietly, “do you love me?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Sarah said finally, “but I want John.”
“But you said you’re marrying him! You have him, Sarah. He has nothing to do with me!”
Suddenly Sarah seemed to collapse. She covered her face with her hands, and wrenching sobs broke from her throat.
Jules, appalled, quickly went to her. “What’s wrong, Sarah?”
The sobs continued,