Engaged to Die Read Free Page A

craggy kind of face, piercing eyes, dark hair touched with silver.
    She still felt an instant of shock when she looked at her own image, pale brown hair in coronet braids, her mild blue eyes wide with surprise and shyness, her thin face softened by a faint flush on her cheeks. What a difference from her years in a uniform, slipping quietly to a bedside. In her portrait, she looked like a lady. Now she didn’t have to work. Never again.
    She smiled at the painting. She’d known it would shock Nathaniel’s children when she moved his painting enough to make room for hers above the mantel, too. She’d known and not cared. The shock of Nathaniel’s death was fading, and she was beginning to take pleasure in her role as his widow. She’d thought it fitting to put her portrait there when the new young painter had asked to paint her. He’d asked! That was when her happiness began.
    Jake had entitled the painting The Chatelaine. She’d not known the word, but she didn’t tell Jake. After he’d left, the day he hung the painting, she’d gone to thedictionary. Chatelaine: the mistress of a household. That’s how Jake saw her.
    But not Nathaniel’s children. A few days ago, she’d stood near the doorway to the library and heard Irene’s light, cool, sardonic voice as she glanced up at the painting. “The Chatelaine,” Irene had drawled. “How about The Usurper. Or perhaps The Bitch. ” Each word was light and uninflected, even the last.
    Virginia felt uplifted by the portrait. Authenticated, that was the word. That’s what Nathaniel would say about a painting that was proved to be genuine. She looked as though she belonged in the room. The pale blue slubbed silk dress was exquisite. She’d never been able to afford beautiful dresses until now. She felt a surge of pleasure when she thought of the new dress hanging in her closet, a soft silver georgette with a flutter hem. Her sandals were silver, too. Jake said she looked like winter moonlight, clear and clean and cool, impossible to grasp. She’d felt enchanted when she slipped into the dress. There had been a sense of wonder ever since she met Jake. Jake had helped her pick out diamond earrings and a necklace with diamonds speckling the wings of a silver butterfly. Jake told her she always reminded him of a butterfly, quiet and gentle and beautiful.
    Jake…Her lips curved in a triumphant smile. Tomorrow night at the gallery, they would announce their engagement. She wanted to use the gallery because that’s where she’d met Jake. If Carl and Susan didn’t like it, that was just too bad. Boston had been sweet as could be when she’d asked if he minded. He had given that great booming laugh of his and told her the bigger the party, the better, and it was time for her to have some fun.
    Fun. Yes, it would be fun. She’d never had a party for herself before. Never. The wedding would be simple, of course. Virginia stared at the painting. Chatelaine. That’s who she was now. Whether They liked it or not. She wasn’t going to let Them (that’s how she lumped them together now, Carl and Irene and Susan and Rusty) ruin the party. They were cruel and selfish and didn’t want her to be happy, even though she’d always made it clear that everything would come to them. She felt a moment’s unease. There was less and less money, and Carl kept telling her the gallery was in trouble. But she had quite a bit of cash, and she could do with it what she wished. Of course, eventually everything would go to Nathaniel’s children. They had every right.
    She had rights, too.
    The thought pierced her like a shaft of sunlight spearing into a dungeon.
    She had a right to be happy. And happiness was so near. For the first time in her life, she knew about love. She’d never thought it could be this way, her heart pounding when he came near, taking pleasure in the way his