All That Glitters

by V. C. Andrews

  Beau gathered our things and I took Pearl into my arms. She gazed at everything with curiosity. I kissed her cheek.

  "This is going to be your new home, honey. I hope it has better luck for you than it did for me."

  "It will," Beau promised. He marched ahead of us to the front door and unlocked it. He quickly turned on the chandeliers, for the dismal sky made the great foyer cold and dark. The lights made the peach marble floor glitter and illuminated the ceiling mural, the paintings, and the enormous tapestry depicting a grand French palace and gardens. Pearl's eyes were wide with astonishment. She gazed quickly at everything, but she clung to me tightly.

  "Right this way, madame," Beau called. His voice echoed through the empty mansion. As he proceeded before us, he turned on whatever lamp or hall light he could. I followed quickly to the beautiful curved stairway with its soft carpeted steps and shiny mahogany balustrade.

  Despite its plush antique furniture, its expensive wall hangings, its vast rooms, the grand house had never been a home to me. I was a stranger from a strange land when I came here to live, and at the moment, I felt even more alien. When I had first set eyes on the inside of the mansion, I thought it was more of a museum than it was a house. Now, with the bitter and sad memories still clinging to the walls of my mind, I knew it would take even more of an effort to make it cozy and warm and feel welcome and secure here.

  "I thought you might want to make your old room into Pearl's nursery," Beau suggested. He opened the door of what had been my room and stood back, grimacing like a satisfied cat.

  "What?"

  I gazed in. There was a crib similar to the one Pearl had at Cypress Woods, with a matching dresser and a little desk and chair. My mouth fell open in astonishment.

  "How?"

  "I came back into New Orleans right after we had our conversation and paid a furniture dealer twice the price to get everything set up for her," he said. "Then I rushed back to the ranch."

  I shook my head in amazement.

  "I want this to work," he said softly but determinedly. "For all of us."

  "Oh, Beau." Tears came to my eyes. Pearl did seem happy and was eager to explore her new surroundings.

  "I'll make some phone calls and start the ball rolling for us to get some new servants. The agency will send candidates for butler and maid and cook."

  "What will people think once they hear about all the servants leaving?" I asked.

  "Nothing. It wouldn't be anything unexpected. I'm sure they were all mumbling complaints about Gisselle anyway. After Daphne's death and Bruce's departure from the house, she became so oppressive and demanding, I felt sorry for them. The fact is, I had to plead and beg with them not to quit." He paused. "Gisselle and I took Daphne and Pierre's suite," he said. "Might as well make yourself at home," he suggested.

  I took Pearl into my arms again and followed him across the hall. Very little had been changed in the suite. It still had its great canopy bed and elaborate velvet drapes over the windows. However, the vanity table was a mess and there were some garments tossed over the love seat.

  "Gisselle wasn't the neatest woman. She didn't respect her possessions because she replaced them so often. We were always arguing about that," Beau said. The closet door was open and I could see her vast array of dresses, skirts, and blouses, some dangling from their hangers precariously, some actually on the floor of the closet.

  "Gisselle's going to have some remarkable character changes," I said.

  Beau laughed. "Not too quickly, however," he warned. The phone rang and we both looked at it.

  "We don't have to answer it," he said.

  "It might be Paul. I've got to start sometime; it might as well be immediately, Beau. If I can't pull this off, we'd better know right away."

  He nodded and looked apprehensive as I started toward the phone.

  "Wait," he said. "If it's one of her friends, I'll know which one." He picked up the receiver. "Hello." He listened. "Yes, she's right here. It's Pauline," he told me, and held out the receiver. "She can be very bitchy," he whispered.

  I nodded and took the phone into my trembling fingers. "Hello."

  "Gisselle? I called the ranch and they said you had left for New Orleans. I thought you were staying another week. I got Peter to agree to go. I thought we were going to have a party," she whined. "It's just lucky I decided to call first. I might have driven all the way out there for nothing. What happened? Why didn't you call me?" she demanded angrily.

  I took a deep breath, recalled how my sister spoke on the phone, and replied. "What happened?" I said. "Only a disaster."

  "What?" Pauline exclaimed.

  "My sister came to visit and was bitten by mosquitoes," I explained as if it were my sister's fault.

  "That's a disaster?"

  "She came down with . . . Beau, what was that stupid disease again?"

  He smiled at me.

  "Encepha something," I said after pretending to listen.

  "She's in a coma and I had to take the baby home with me."

  "Baby?"

  "My sister's baby."

  "You're taking care of a baby?" she asked, astonished.

  "Until I hire someone," I said petulantly.

  "Why?"

  "Nothing, except I know what you think of children."

  "You don't know everything about me, Pauline," I snapped in my best Gisselle tone of voice.

  "Excuse me?"

  "You're excused."

  "I just meant . . ."

  "I know what you meant. Look, I don't have time to waste on the phone with stupid gossip right now. I have some major responsibilities."

  "I'm sorry I won't bother you."

  "Fine. 'Bye," I said, and cradled the receiver.

  "That was incredible," Beau said. "For a moment I thought you were Gisselle and I had really taken Ruby back to Cypress Woods."

  Even Pearl was looking up at me with an expression of confusion.

  I breathed relief. Maybe, I thought, this wouldn't be as hard as I had imagined. In fact, Beau was so impressed with my performance, he decided we should go to one of the fine restaurants he and Gisselle often frequented and let the New Orleans social community learn the story as soon as possible.

  Butterflies beat small wings of panic in my stomach. "Beau, should we? Maybe it's too soon."

  "Nonsense," he said with confidence. "You settle in, choose something to wear, something Gisselle," he added pointedly, "and I'll take care of some business. Welcome home, darling," he said, kissing me softly on the lips. My heart fluttered as he hurried out and I turned to look at my sister's wardrobe.

  12

  Body Double

  .

  Our first evening out as Beau and Gisselle

  Andreas was a great success. I wore one of Gisselle's strapless outfits with a tight-fitting bodice. Beau laughed at my reaction to my image in the mirror. Almost all of her dresses had the same low necklines, so they revealed more cleavage than I would have liked.

  "Your sister always pushed to the limits when it came to what was and was not socially acceptable," Beau said. "I think she enjoyed outraging high society."

  "Well, I don't."

  "Still, you look enchanting," he said; stepping back with a sensual smile painted on his face. He laughed. "There was nothing Gisselle liked more than walking into a fancy, expensive restaurant and having heads turn her way in astonishment."

  "I'll be blushing so badly, everyone will know who I really am!"

  "They'll just think it's Gisselle's way of flirting," Beau replied.

  Heads did turn when we entered the restaurant. Beau carried Pearl, who looked adorable in the little sailor girl outfit we had bought her. I tried to imagine Gisselle's arrogance and swagger, but when people's eyes met mine, faces smeared into one giant blur and I instinctively looked down. However, none of the people we met who were acquaintances of Beau and Gisselle's displayed any suspicions. Whatever nervousness or uncharacteristic behavior they saw in me, they attrib
uted to the current tragic situation. Gisselle was always willing to let people know how much she suffered. Nevertheless, I noticed that most people showed their sympathy more to Beau than to me, and I realized quickly that those who were friends with Beau and Gisselle were friends with them mainly because of him.

  Beau cleverly announced anyone's name in greeting before I had to say anything.

  "Marcus, Lorraine, how are you?" he would cry as they approached the table.

  "Whose lovely child is this?" almost everyone asked.

  "My sister's," I replied with a smirk. "But for now and maybe forever, she's my responsibility."

  "Oh?"

  That would lead to Beau providing the explanation. If anyone did show sympathy to me, it was solely because of the new burden I was to bear.

  "As you can see," Beau told me on the way home, "most of Gisselle's friendships are thin and artificial. I used to notice how they never really listened to each other or cared that much about what each other said."

  "'Snakes of the same color are drawn to each other,' Grandmere used to say," I told him.

  "Exactly."

  We were both so buoyed by my premier performances in the role of my sister, our hearts felt light and gay when we returned to the house. Beau had arranged for interviews the next day, hoping to hire new servants as soon as possible. I put Pearl to sleep in her new crib and new room, thinking to myself how wonderful it was that she was to have the room that had been mine. My father had been so proud of it and so happy with my elated reaction to it and the views of our gardens and property. To me it was the doorway to a wonderland. Hopefully it would become that for Pearl, too.

  Beau came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders and his lips on my neck.

  "Feeling better?" he asked softly.

  "Yes."

  "A little happy?"

  "A little," I offered.

  He laughed and turned me to him for a long and passionate kiss. Then a small smile played about his beautifully shaped lips. "You know, you did look very sexy tonight."

  "Not in front of the baby," I chastised gently when his fingers found the snaps on my dress and he began to lower it off my shoulders. He laughed and scooped me up to carry me to our suite. After he placed me gently on the bed, he stepped back and smiled strangely.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Let's pretend this is really our first night together as man and wife, our honeymoon night. We've never made love with each other before. We've touched each other, kissed each other hard and long, but I have always respected you when I courted you and you always said, let's wait. Well, now we're married; now it's time," he declared.

  "Oh, Beau . . ."

  He knelt down and put his fingers on my lips. "Don't speak," he said. "Words are too clumsy now."

  I sat quietly as he gracefully peeled my dress down my arms. He kissed my shoulders, now gleaming in the soft light of the three-quarter moon streaming through our bedroom window. He unfastened my bra and drew it off me. For a moment all he did was gaze at me. My heart pounded so hard, I thought he could see the hammering under my breast. Slowly he brought his hands to me, caressing me. I moaned and lay back on the plush, fluffy pillows. I closed my eyes and just listened to the rustling of his clothing. I remained still, quiet, as he completed undressing me and moments later brought his naked body to mine.

  Funny the power our illusions had over us, I thought, because we did make love as if it were for the first time. Each kiss was a new kiss, each touch a new touch. We made discoveries about each other, listened to each other's moans and heavy breathing as if we both heard things we had never before heard. Our passion was so great and so deep, it drove me to tears of ecstasy. If we declared our love once, we declared it a hundred times as we stroked the deepest part of ourselves repeatedly.

  It was exhausting, but ecstatically so, leaving us both tired but content. All the problems and difficulties ahead of us became insignificant. Our lovemaking left us feeling invulnerable, for surely a romance this great was blessed and protected. It was immortal, indestructible, invincible. We fell asleep in each other's arms, blanketed by confidence, and my dreams took off on wings of fancy.

  The phone's ringing early in the morning, even before Pearl woke, startled us. Beau groaned. For a few moments I forgot where I was. I blinked in confusion and waited for my memory to catch up with my senses. Beau groped for the phone and struggled to sit up.

  "Hello," he said in a raspy voice. He listened so long without speaking, my curiosity was aroused and I ground the sleep from my eyes and sat up beside him.

  "Who is it?" I whispered.

  He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Paul," he replied, and listened again. "Fine. You did the right thing. Just keep us up-to-date. No. She's still asleep," he added, fixing his gaze on me with wider eyes. "I'll tell her. Right. Thanks." He cradled the phone.

  "What?"

  "He said his doctor advised putting Gisselle into the hospital for tests, a CAT scan. His doctor had the same initial diagnosis as mine did, but he's not as pessimistic as my doctor was about the outcome."

  "How did she spend the night?" I asked.

  "Paul said she had a few periods of

  consciousness, but her babbling was so incoherent, no one suspected anything,"

  "What's going to happen, Beau?"

  "I don't know. My doctor was so definite about her condition." He thought a moment and shook his head. "I don't think anything will come of this."

  "I don't want to have to wish for her to be sick and die, Beau. I couldn't be happy knowing my happiness was based on that wish."

  "I know. It doesn't matter what you wish. Believe me," he said assuredly. "It's beyond what any one of us wants, even Paul," he added. "Might as well get up and start the day." He rose, but I sat there.

  Mornings always had a way of sobering us up, I thought. Reality rode in on the back of the sunlight, erasing the magic we experienced under the stars and in the moonlight. I heard Pearl's cry and rose myself, that tentative feeling returning.

  It had been a while since I had been in a kitchen, but cooking and baking for me was like riding a bike. The moment I began, everything came back to me and I not only prepared our breakfast, but began a gumbo for our lunch as well. Beau wasn't sure he could get back for lunch.

  "Since the settlement and Bruce's departure, I've been running the Dumas Enterprises," he explained. "Of course, Gisselle did little more than cash checks and spend money. She was always bored with business."

  "Paul conducted all of our business," I said, "but I wouldn't mind getting involved and being a real partner for you."

  He shook his head.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Everyone working for us knows how Gisselle is."

  "Tell them I've had a sudden change of heart and mind because of what happened to my sister. Tell them . . I've got religion."

  "Religion? Gisselle? No way anyone would believe that, mon chere."

  "Well then tell them a voodoo spell was cast over me," I suggested, half-seriously.

  Beau laughed. "All right. We'll figure something out to explain your new interests. We'll have to ease you into things slowly, though, so as not to arouse suspicions. In the meantime, I'll do what has to be done. I have three interviews set up beginning at two this afternoon: a candidate for butler, maid, and cook."

  "I could do all of our cooking," I said.

  "Gisselle couldn't boil water without burning it," he reminded me. I felt like a graceful dancer who had to suddenly appear clumsy. All my talents had to remain hidden. Beau kissed me on the cheek, kissed Pearl, and hurried off to the office.

  After he left I took Pearl around the house to show her our new home. She loved our patios, fountains, and gardens, but was especially excited when I brought her to my old studio. The familiar sight of easels, frames, drawing tables, paints, oils, and clay brought laughter to her lips. She clapped her hands and I put her down on the floor and gave her a set of colored pencils and some
paper with which to amuse herself while I began to reorganize my studio.

  I was so lost in the work and my memories of pictures I had done here that I didn't hear the tapping on the windowpane for a few moments after it had begun. It grew louder and I turned to see a curlyhaired young man smiling in at me. He was dressed in a short-sleeve blue shirt and jeans, the shirt opened down his chest to reveal a gold chain and medallion. He was a slim man about six feet tall with a dark face, light brown eyes, and very light brown hair, and I didn't think he was much older than twenty-four or five.

  "Open the window," he cried.

  I walked toward him slowly and undid the latch.

  "Pauline told me you were back. Why didn't you call?" he asked, and started to crawl in through the window. I stepped back amazed, but too shocked and confused to speak. As soon as he was in, he reached out to take my shoulders and bring me to him to kiss me passionately on the lips, twisting and turning his head and jetting out his tongue. I gasped and pulled out of his grip.

  "What's wrong?" he demanded. He smirked. "Did Pauline tell you something? Because if she did, it wasn't true. Helaine Delmarco was here for only a couple of days, and her parents and my parents are like relatives. I think of her the way you would think of your sister."

  "Pauline didn't tell me anything," I said.

  "Oh." He heard Pearl mumble some of her baby gibberish and looked around the corner of the settee to see her seated on the floor. "Who's that?"

  "My sister's child. It's the reason we returned so quickly. My sister became very sick. She's in the hospital. I'm looking after her baby."

  "No kidding? You? Volunteered?"

  "I didn't exactly volunteer."

  "No," he said, laughing. "I guess you wouldn't. So that's it. All right. I forgive you, then." He started toward me again. "What's wrong?" he asked when I retreated a step. He smiled. "I watched and waited to be sure Beau was gone for a while. Where did he go, to the office?"

  "No, he's coming back soon," I said.