by Irene Brand
A knock sounded at the door, and Miss Whitaker entered carrying a large chest. She opened the chest to display five drawers of jewels. Violet could only stare at the ostentatious jewelry that reminded her of the Crown jewels.
“Your grandfather wants you to choose something from his wife’s jewelry to wear to the reception tonight.”
Finding her voice, Violet said, “I don’t want to wear this jewelry—what if I should lose it?”
Miss Whitaker’s straight lips wrinkled into a half smile. “Hardly any danger of losing anything in this house tonight. There will be numerous security agents circulating.”
Desperately, Violet protested, “I still don’t want to wear them. In fact, I don’t even want to go to the reception.”
In her way, Miss Whitaker was as domineering as Josiah Conley, Violet decided, for she ignored Violet’s comments and turned her so that she faced the mirror. The secretary lifted a gold necklace set with rubies and diamonds and placed it around Violet’s neck.
“This is probably a good choice,” she said. “It’s certainly not the most expensive necklace Mrs. Conley owned, but it does look stunning with that dress.” She clasped the necklace around Violet’s neck, removed the simple gold earrings from Violet’s ears and inserted the long pendants that matched the necklace. She unwrapped a matching bracelet and gave it to Violet to put over her wrist, while she rummaged carefully in the lower drawer containing a dozen or so rings. Violet’s hands were ringless, so Miss Whitaker placed a large diamond solitaire on her left hand, and a diamond encrusted circlet on the third finger of her right hand. Chills coursed through Violet’s body when she realized that the rings fit perfectly.
Miss Whitaker took a box from one drawer of the chest. “This was your grandmother’s favorite necklace, which she inherited from her forebears. Note especially the golden loop-in-loop chain work.”
The necklace was hung with rose-shaped pendants, highlighted by gold-and-silver enamel, and it was beautiful. The secretary replaced the necklace in the box and locked the chest.
“Come along now,” Miss Whitaker said. “Let’s see if Mr. Conley approves your appearance, and I must lock this jewelry in the safe.”
As they hustled down the hall, Violet observed her appearance in a floor-length mirror. Only her hair looked normal, and because it was so short, the maid couldn’t change it much. That fact gave Violet some comfort—how could a designer dress and expensive jewelry do so much to alter one’s appearance? She would have to be on guard, or it would change her personality as well.
When Miss Whitaker opened the door and ushered Violet into Josiah’s office, he stood to his feet, his expression awestruck.
“Magnificent!” he said. “I have my Rachel back again.” He favored her with such a possessive look that Violet’s blood chilled. Would he try to force her to remain in this house?
“Then you approve?” Miss Whitaker said.
“Very much. You have done well.” To Violet, he said, “We will dine in a half hour.”
“Then may I suggest,” Miss Whitaker said, “that you hurry to change your own garments.”
“Point well taken,” Josiah said. He patted Violet on her shoulder, and she was repulsed by the gesture.
Back in her room, Violet was left alone for a few minutes, and ignoring her finery, she knelt by the chaise lounge. “God,” she prayed, “I’m in a situation that I can’t control, and one that terrifies me. What am I going to do?” While she knelt with her head on the lounge, she thought of Rachel Conley, whose presence seemed to fill the room. “Grandmother,” Violet said, not believing that Rachel could hear her, but she did feel an affinity to that grandmother she couldn’t remember, “if I’m like you as I’ve been led to believe, there must have been times when you were frightened and uneasy in this house. I hope I can be as composed as you must have been.”
As she remained on her knees waiting for God’s answer, He answered her as she recalled some words from What’s Your Prison? Linda had written, “There is no dungeon so deep, no prison wall so secure to prevent God from reaching out to His children. Paul and Silas prayed in the Philippian jail and were heard; Jonah prayed from the belly of the big fish and God answered; though Joseph had reached the depths of Potiphar’s dungeon, he was delivered; and even when Jeremiah was in the dungeon, God protected and strengthened the prophet to continue his God-given work. Be encouraged—if you belong to God, you will never be in any situation from which He can’t deliver you. It may be that He will send angels to guard you, or perhaps deliverance will come by your own ingenuity, but be assured, wherever you are, God is there.”
Such peace flowed into Violet’s soul that she praised God for delivering her from the dread of this evening. And how wonderful that her comfort had come through her mother’s words. Linda, of all people, would understand how Violet felt tonight. She had been intimidated by Josiah long before Violet was born.
Violet was still on her knees, resting her head on the lounge, when the door opened, and the maid screeched, “Mademoiselle!” The woman rushed to Violet and lifted her up to her feet.
“What is the matter? You have wrinkled your dress.”
“Nothing is the matter…now. And there isn’t anything wrong with my dress,” Violet added, as the maid tugged at the garment and brushed away a few specks of lint she had picked up from the pink carpet.
During the dinner, which was served to a group of about thirty guests, Violet kept encountering the sardonic glances of a man who sat about halfway down the table on her left. He seemed familiar to her. At last, she placed him—Mike Conley, Josiah’s grandson, whom she had met at the Social Studies competition in Springfield. She wondered how he felt about her elevation to such an exalted position. She remembered Josiah’s comment that his grandson was terminally ill. Violet had thought Mike Conley looked pale and haggard at the first meeting and now he looked even more sickly. Clearly, his health was rapidly deteriorating.
There was a half-hour break between dinner and the beginning of the reception, and Violet left the dining room, hoping she could find her way back to Rachel’s bedroom. Mike Conley blocked her way when she entered the hallway.
“So we meet again,” he said. “And you’ve been ignoring me when I thought you would be grateful—without my intervention, you wouldn’t have been invited into these exclusive halls.”
“I didn’t recognize you at first, but believe me, I’m not grateful that you told your grandfather of my existence. He practically ordered me to come to see him, and when I came, he wouldn’t let me leave. I feel like a prisoner.”
“Which you really are. Josiah has always imprisoned members of his family.”
“But if you think I’m happy in such a gathering as this, you’re mistaken. Nothing personal, but I’m sorry that you and I encountered each other.”
“I know it wasn’t a kind thing for me to do, but dare I admit, that I told him about you to get him off my back for a while. He didn’t seem to understand that I wasn’t the one to carry on his kingdom. I’d just about run out of the strength to oppose him when you appeared on the horizon.”
“I’m surprised that you would want to take a chance on him leaving some of his possessions to me.”
“I inherited my father’s share of Midwest Enterprises—I have more money than I can ever spend in the short time I have left.”
“I’m not sure I’m interested in carrying on his legacy, either.”
He looked at her keenly. “You mean that, don’t you?” He indicated the spacious house with a sweep of his hand. “This hasn’t impressed you at all.”
“Until a few weeks ago, all I ever knew about the Conleys was that they had railroaded my mother into prison and left me without any parental guidance. My mother wouldn’t see me, and my Aunt Ruth answered few questions, but enough for me to realize that I was better off not knowing anything about my father’s people.”
“Josiah won’t give up without a fight,” Mike warned her.
“I need to get away from him so I can think. He acts as if the decision is already made, but I don’t think my fiancé will be interested in his proposition.”
“Are you engaged to the man who was with you in Springfield?”
“Yes, we plan to be married in June, and I doubt he will be interested in my grandfather’s offer, but I do think he should be considered in my decision.”
“He appeared to be a good man.”
“He is,” Violet said, and her face wreathed into a smile; even the thought of Roger brought her pleasure.
“Then you should forget Midwest Enterprises and stay with him.”
“My opinion exactly. That’s why I intend to leave as soon as the reception is over.”
Mike shook his head. “Maybe not. I’ve already had my orders to drive you back to your hotel tonight and bring you and your luggage back here to stay.”
“No! No!” Violet grabbed his arm. “You’re the one who got me into this, so please help me. Take me away now.”
Mike rubbed his forehead, as if thinking was too painful for him. “It isn’t that easy to evade Josiah’s clutches, but let me think upon it, and I’ll do something for you.”
Miss Whitaker appeared behind them and Violet wondered what she had heard.
“Your grandfather is expecting the two of you to join him in the front hallway in five minutes.”
“Then we will have to hurry, Violet. We mustn’t keep grandfather waiting.”
He gave her a significant nod and wandered away. Lifting the front hem of her dress and letting the train flow behind her, Violet rushed up the back stairs to Rachel’s bedroom. She had to have a few moments to herself before she faced all of those strangers.
The massive looped earrings pulled on Violet’s ear-lobes, and the necklace felt cold and heavy on her neck. Again Violet got a glimpse of herself in the floor-length mirror as she hurried along the carpeted hall. Outwardly, she appeared more beautiful than she had ever looked before, but she didn’t look like herself, and with the addition of all the finery, her personality had disappeared. She couldn’t even remember the values and goals of the Violet Conley she had once been. If one day in her grandfather’s presence could do that, how would a daily diet of his dominance affect her? It was unthinkable.
She endured the rest of the evening, standing at his side as he proudly introduced her to his acquaintances. When all the guests had assembled, and Josiah was busy with the presidential contender, standing beside him as he made his bid for the country’s highest office, Mike appeared at her side.
“Go upstairs and gather your things. In five minutes I’ll knock on the door and guide you to the servants’ exit, where a taxi is supposed to be waiting for you. You would never be able to escape being seen if you go out any of the other doors.”
She searched his eyes for a few moments. Could she trust him? Somehow she thought that she could, and she knew that she had to leave this place before she lost her small amount of remaining mental ingenuity. In the bedroom she changed out of the expensive dress into the slacks outfit she had worn to the house, removed the jewelry and laid it on top of the dress, hoping nothing would happen to it before Miss Whitaker could return it in the safe.
Violet was ready when she heard a discreet knock on the door, and without a word, she followed Mike down a small set of stairs. He opened the outside door and looked around before he motioned her to exit. A taxi stood beside the steps.
“Thank you, Mike. I hope you won’t get in trouble because of this.”
“Don’t worry about me—I can’t sink any lower in my grandfather’s estimation.” He took her hand. “I think I would have enjoyed knowing you as a cousin. I had a lonely childhood with no other children around.”
“So did I. I guess that tragedy with my parents ruined both of our lives.”
“The tragedy was that both of us were born Conleys.” He opened the taxi door for her and squeezed her hand. “Watch out for yourself. Good luck.”
When the taxi pulled up before her hotel, Violet asked the driver to wait. She went inside, checked out of her room, and directed the taxi driver to take her to another hotel. Knowing her grandfather’s investigative powers, she registered as Ruth Reed, and by paying for the room in advance with cash, she didn’t have to present any identification cards. She checked into her room, and only then did she rid herself of the feeling that Josiah would snatch her back into his fold.
Right now, she needed Roger, and she dialed his number, thankful that she found him at home and not out on special duty. After they chatted about inconsequentials, she said, “Would you like to become an instant millionaire?”
“What’s the catch?” Roger asked in a teasing tone.
“I went to see my grandfather today, and he wants to make me his heir. His only other direct descendant is that grandson I told you about. Sadly, the poor man is dying.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Roger replied. “So you would be the only heir.” Roger’s voice was wary.
“You sound excited.”
She wanted to tell him of how Josiah had dominated her, but no need to worry him when he was too far away to do anything.
“I’ve had quite a day, and certainly his offer is generous, but you’re included, too. He wants me to marry and have children to eventually carry on his business of Midwest Enterprises. When I told him I was engaged, he said he would welcome you and give you a job in the corporation. There’s one catch, though.”
“There usually is,” he said with a light laugh.
“We would have to move to Kansas City, live in the family home, and change your name to Conley, or at least I would need to retain my family name in our marriage. How does Roger Conley-Gibson sound to you?”
“Sounds as if you’re making up the whole thing to tease me.”
“No, I’m serious. I’ve spent the afternoon out there listening to him.”
“That’s a situation you will have to ponder carefully,” Roger said slowly. Was his voice strained, or did she imagine it?
“But you would be involved, too.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
“I can’t make any decision without considering you, Roger.”
He ignored her comment, saying only, “What you decide could change your whole life, so think on it carefully.”
“Will you pray for me, Roger? It seems all I’ve done in the past few months is to make decisions.”
After she told him she had shifted hotels, without giving him a reason, she added, “I love you,” and said goodbye. She had never wanted his presence with her so much as she did when she finally got into bed, even then dreading a call from her grandfather. Again lonely, and somewhat fearful without Roger, she relied on the promise, I will not leave you alone.
Chapter Eight
William O’Brien’s office was in a long ell attached to his two-story redbrick house, that looked as if had been built several years ago because the shrubbery and trees on the small lot were well established. Although she hadn’t seen O’Brien, her telephone conversations with him had proven that he was not only a capable man, but one who seemingly had compassion for his clients.
Violet had taken a taxi to his office, and when she entered his empty reception room, O’Brien soon came from his office and shook hands with her. The attorney was a short stocky man. His reddish brown hair had receded far back on his splendidly shaped head. Large, brilliant, intelligent gray eyes gleamed from a broad face, which broke into a smile, revealing even, white teeth. He spoke with a brisk cheerfulness, that was welcome to Violet after her encounter with Josiah Conley.
“I must say you’ve changed quite a lot since the last time I saw you.”
His attitude brought a smile to Violet’s face, and the tension that had hounded her after the frustrating visit with her grandfather eased considerably. “For the better, I hope.”
“Without a doubt.” His face sobered. “When I think of how you looked and acted during the six months we kept you when yo
u were a child, I wondered if you would ever be able to overcome the ordeal you had witnessed, but you have, it seems.”
“I don’t remember anything about the time I spent with my parents, nor of my time here at your house. Actually, my first memory was with Aunt Ruth in Minnesota. I had a sheltered childhood because Aunt Ruth and I were alone so much, and I was an introvert—didn’t make friends as much as I should have. I was ashamed that my mother was in prison, and I didn’t want my friends to know that. I suppose that’s the reason I didn’t make many. After I went to college, I became more social.”
“Come into my office,” he said. “I’ve canceled all of my appointments today, and have given my secretary the day off. My wife is taking all telephone calls in the house, so we won’t be interrupted or overheard. I’ve guarded your mother’s secrets for a long time, and I’ll continue to do so unless you decide otherwise. And by the way, Fanny is preparing lunch for you.”
“You’re being very nice to me.”
“My wife and I were both friends of your mother—we went to college together. We have two children of our own, but I’ve always felt like a father to you. We grew fond of you the few months we kept you before Ruth returned to the States. I want to assist you in every possible way.”
“I suppose the first thing I must decide is whether to allow Mother’s story to be aired on that television show.”
“Why are you considering it?”
“To clear her name and memory. If she was innocent, as you’ve indicated, and if she wouldn’t fight for herself, I will do it. Peter Pierce suggested that the story is going to get out anyway, and that I might be better off to have some control over what is told.”
“Frankly, I question if it’s wise for you to open up this case. You’re going to learn facts that you might be better off not to know.”