by Jane Peart
"Of course," Addie nodded, distracted, more aware that Rex was approaching than of what Louis was saying. And what did that matter to her anyway? The only thing that mattered was that Rex Lyon was standing in front of them waiting to speak. Addie felt almost dizzy.
"Good-evening, Montand," Rex said; then his glance moved to Addie, and he held out his hand. "Miss Pride, how very nice to see you again."
"Nice you could come, Lyon," Louis replied. "I was just telling Miss Pride my attention must be spread around among my guests this evening. It would be a favor to me if you would look after her until I can get away from receiving my new arrivals. The music for dancing has begun. Perhaps you could escort Miss Pride onto the dance floor?"
Rex looked down at Addie, thinking how lovely she was—those sherry-colored eyes, shadowed by dark, curving lashes—how luscious the glow of her skin, how sweet the tantalizing scent of her fragrance.
"I would be most happy to do so, if Miss Pride would do me the honor?" Rex assured him, his eyes brightening.
Behind her Addie heard a familiar high-pitched voice and turned her head to see Mrs. Amberly holding Louis's sister by the arm, her face pushed up into Estelle's, talking rapidly. Addie saw Estelle cast a look in Louis's direction. She assumed the Montands must have secret signals to use in awkward social situations because Louis immediately excused himself and went to his sister's rescue.
Left alone with Rex, Addie grew strangely calm.
"Would you care to dance?" he asked.
"Yes, indeed, thank you." Addie took his arm. Together they went across the hall to the drawing room where the furniture had been pushed against the wall, the rugs removed, and the floor highly polished for dancing.
A waltz was beginning to play. Rex led her out to join the gracefully spinning couples. He was a surprisingly good dancer Addie discovered. She had seen the way he rode a horse, seen his long-legged stride, his purposeful walk, but none of these had given a clue to his skill on the dance floor.
It had been so long since she had danced that Addie felt a little unsure of herself. At first she was too aware of Rex's hand on her waist, her hand in his. Then the music took over, and she fell in step with its rhythm. They circled the room several times, then reversed, all in perfect time with the three-quarter beat, gliding, whirling, as though they had danced together before in some other time, some other place. She felt as though it were a dream, floating on the rippling waves of the lighthearted music rising and swelling around her. For the first time in ages Addie allowed herself to be happy.
In the middle of a promenade Addie spotted Brook; he looked dashing and debonair as he stood in the archway of the hall. He must have just arrived for he was divesting himself of a white satin-lined cape. Seeing her, he smiled and gave her a little salute.
When the music ended they were at the end of the room near the bow windows, and Rex suggested, "Shall we catch our breath for a few minutes?"
"Oh, yes, let's," Addie agreed. They went over to one of the alcoves to sit on the velvet cushioned seat. Through the open window a cooling breeze brought in the fragrance of flowers.
Rex sat down beside her, looking at her so seriously and thoughtfully that Addie was compelled to ask, "Why are you staring at me so, Mr. Lyon? Is something wrong? Perhaps I have a fly on my nose or something?" She playfully brushed at an imaginary insect on the tip of her nose.
"Oh, no!" Rex said quickly. "I was just thinking how I nearly didn't come this evening and ..." He hesitated for a long moment. "I just happened to think how many times that sort of thing has happened to me. Like the day I saw you for the first time—at the train depot. I hadn't planned to ride into town that day, either—"
"However, I'm very glad I did come." He made a sweeping motion with his hand. "This is quite a party, isn't it? I believe everyone in the valley is here, besides a few others I don't recognize."
"I understand Louis and Estelle invited friends from San Francisco, as well."
"Do you know them well—the Montands?" Rex asked.
"Well, they have been staying at Silver Springs for quite some time while this house was being completed. And you know, my employer, Mrs. Amberly, stayed the winter so we have seen a great deal of them."
"It must seem dull to them after the life in the city, although Montand declares he wants to become a vintner." Rex shook his head. "Vineyards and winemaking are mostly family businesses here. That's how I happen to be here." He paused, frowning slightly. "I never intended to come back. I had planned to be a journalist, I had just started getting my feet wet, so to speak when . . . " an expression of infinite sadness passed over Rex's face "... my father died unexpectedly and my older brother was killed in an accident—and there was no one else to take over the business my great-great-grandfather had started."
"I know, I'm sorry. Freda told me something about it."
"It's a strange feeling to be the only one left in one's family."
"Yes, I quite understand. You see, I too am the only one left in my family," Addie surprised herself by confiding. "Two of my first cousins—boys I grew up with—were killed in the war, and both my parents are dead."
She realized Rex was the only person to whom she had told anything about her personal life since coming to California. His eyes softened, and he nodded as if no words were necessary to convey his sympathy. A brief silence fell between them, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Rather, it was an empathetic one; the unspoken acknowledgment of a mutual experience of loss seemed to bind them closer together.
After a moment, Rex asked, "Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?" He lifted one eyebrow and smiled. "Although, I can't vouch for its quality. I don't believe they're serving Lyon's Court vintage. And since Louis hasn't brought in his first crop yet or produced his estate bottled wine, it isn't Chateau Montand either." Rex leaned closer and said in an exaggerated whisper, "It's probably some inferior French champagne—" He shrugged. "But as they say, beggars can't be choosers!"
Addie laughed, delighted to see this unexpected side of Rex who had, before now, always seemed serious.
"What are you two finding so funny?" a voice asked and a smiling Louis stood before them.
Addie and Rex exchanged a conspiratorial look, silently agreeing Louis might not think a joke about his winery altogether humorous.
Not waiting for an answer Louis asked, "May I interrupt? I'd like to take this lovely lady on the dance floor and then in to supper."
Rex got to his feet slowly as though reluctant to surrender her to Louis. Addie stood up, feeling slightly dazed to have had her conversation with Rex so abruptly interrupted. But after all, Louis was their host. She could hardly refuse a dance.
"Did I tell you how absolutely beautiful you look tonight?" Louis asked as soon as they were dancing. "You know how a rare jewel looks in the right setting? That's how it is with you. Your sparkle, your delicacy, your grace is submerged in a place like the Silver Springs Hotel—it's not worthy of you, it does not do you justice. I can imagine the background you come from and how you fit there—that's why I wanted to see you here—in a setting I have created. I imagined you here. And it's just as I knew it would be—perfect."
Louis's dark eyes glowed with fiery sparks that seemed to burn into Addie. His intensity made her uneasy. The things he was saying. She looked at him warily. Of course, he was excited at the success of his party, probably over-stimulated. Possibly he had drunk a great deal of champagne—responding to toasts of well-wishers as well as priding himself on the brilliant success of the party.
Louis's hand tightened on her waist as he swirled her around to the romantic music of a Viennese waltz. "Tonight I have to share you—I don't really mind—it is very gratifying to see the envy in other men's eyes that I'm dancing with you! You do know you are the most attractive woman here, don't you?" He paused. "Of course, you don't. You're not the type of woman who is self-absorbed. You are different from most of the women I've met." Louis smiled. "Utterly char
ming. I find you absolutely fascinating. Even your name. Pride. It suits you somehow. Miss Adelaide Pride of Virginia."
Addie began to feel uncomfortable but did not know how to stop Louis. They circled the room again and then the music ended. Addie started to step away but Louis's hand on her waist prevented her.
"I'd like to ask you a great favor. I know we have not known each other very long, but I believe—at least, I think—we have become well-acquainted even in this short time. May I call you Addie? And, of course, you must call me Louis. After all, we're living in California now. And Californians, I've learned, do not stand on formality."
Addie was caught off guard. But before she could reply she caught sight of Estelle standing in the doorway, waving her fan to attract Louis's attention.
"I think your sister wants you."
"Ah, no!" Louis swore under his breath; then still holding on to Addie he walked over to where Estelle stood.
"Louis, it's time to announce supper. I hope you can relinquish him for a few minutes, Miss Pride?" She gave Addie a pinched smile, then took Louis by the arm as if to lead him away.
"I'll be with you in a minute, Estelle," he said rather brusquely. She looked annoyed but left and Louis turned to Addie.
"We're eating supper together. I'll just make the announcement and be right back. Here, sit right down and I'll join you shortly."
Rex was nowhere in sight and had not mentioned supper, so Addie simply nodded and let him lead her over to a secluded corner to wait for him. A few minutes later he came carrying two plates filled with all sorts of delicacies: bay shrimp, creamed potatoes, fresh asparagus, and tiny hot rolls. Following him was one of the servants carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. After they ate, while the band tuned up for the last dance, Louis took it for granted that this would be his. Addie realized the evening was coming to an end and she had not had another dance or chance to talk again with Rex.
People began saying their good-byes, thanking their hosts and leaving. Louis settled Addie on a love seat in the small parlor adjoining the foyer to wait for him while he and Estelle saw off their departing guests. "I hope you aren't too tired, but I can't leave to take you and Mrs. Amberly back to Silver Springs until everyone else is gone."
"Of course, I understand. I'll be fine," Addie assured him.
Louis had hardly gone to join Estelle in the hall when Rex appeared at her side.
"I wanted to say how much I enjoyed being with you tonight, Miss Pride. You did say you were free on Thursdays, didn't you?"
"Yes—," she began but before either of them could say more, Mrs. Amberly came along, her face showing both annoyance and curiosity. Rex bowed and murmured good evening to her. She gave him a curt nod then turned to Addie.
"Go get my cape, I'm too tired to move," she said plunking herself down on the love seat.
Addie rose at once. She looked uncertainly at Rex, wondering if he was going to say anything else. But Mrs. Amberly's presence seemed to have placed a pall on further conversation between them.
"Well, good night then, Miss Pride, Mrs. Amberly," he said, bowed again, and walked into the foyer.
"Well, don't just stand there," Mrs. Amberly said irritably, "I'm chilled. Hurry up."
Addie hurried off, half hoping Rex might still be in the hall and they would have another chance to speak. But to her disappointment, he was nowhere in sight. She noticed the last guest was saying good night to Louis and Estelle. By the time Addie emerged from the room off the hall where the ladies' wraps had been left, Louis was waiting. Mrs. Amberly's mood had undergone a miraculous transformation. She now appeared to be all smiles and compliments about the party to the Montands.
Within minutes they were heading back into town in Louis's smart barouche. At the cottage, while he bade Mrs. Amberly a courteous good night, Louis captured Addie's hand. To have withdrawn it would have been awkward, but it made her extremely uncomfortable. Finally Mrs. Amberly left them alone. Immediately Louis brought her hand up to his lips.
"Do you have any idea how proud you made me this evening, Miss Pride—Addie? You looked so lovely, and it delighted me to see you so happy."
His words set off an inner alarm in Addie's mind. Why on earth should Louis feel proud of her? She gave her hand a gentle tug, and after a second he released it. "It was a wonderful party. Thank you very much for everything. I must go in now."
"Yes, of course. But you never really answered the question I asked you earlier. Can we drop the Mr. Montand? I would like very much if you would call me Louis...."He paused. "I think of you as Addie—and I think about you a great deal So may I?"
Addie hesitated. To use each other's Christian names was a step toward intimacy she was not sure she wanted to take with Louis Montand. But she could not really think of any reason to say no, without being rude. After all he had certainly shown her every courtesy and kindness. With some inner reluctance she said, "Why, yes, if you'd like to."
"I would like. Thank you, my dear. I'll be in touch. Don't forget I want you to come out to Chateau Montand when it is not crowded with people, so you can see it for yourself, see the beautiful home I've created."
He still made no move to leave. Feeling a little uneasy at his lingering, Addie moved toward the door. "Good night, Louis."
"Good night, Addie. I'll see you soon."
Inside her room Addie heard the carriage drive off, and she gave a sigh of relief. She hoped she had not given Louis Montand any false impressions, no reason for him to assume—whatever it was he was assuming about her.
But Addie didn't want to think any more about Louis Montand. She wanted to think about—other things. Tonight had been like being caught somewhere between the past and present, music, dancing, laughter. Addie felt as though she were on the brink of something wonderful. What was it? Were her feelings about Rex Lyon her own imagination or did they have any basis in reality?
Estelle Montand was waiting for Louis in the small parlor when he returned from taking Addie and Mrs. Amberly back to Silver Springs. She stiffened visibly when she heard him humming as he came in the house. She frowned.
"Ah, Estelle, you didn't need to stay up on my account!"
"I wanted to. I wanted to discuss our party. How do you think it went?"
"Splendidly, splendidly!" Rubbing his hands together in obvious satisfaction, Louis asked, "Shall we have a nightcap while we share our comments?"
Not waiting for an answer he went over to the liquor cabinet and brought out a cut-glass decanter from which he poured two glasses. He handed one to his sister then sat down in one of the damask upholstered chairs opposite her. He raised his glass then took a sip.
"So, you delivered that dreadful woman back to the Springs." Estelle gave a little shudder. "I thought we were rid of her once we left the resort. Why on earth did you invite her?"
"Because, my dear Estelle, if I hadn't, I couldn't have invited the delightful Miss Pride. There was no alternative. And I decided not to deprive myself."
Estelle felt a quick little twinge of alarm. So her brother's interest in the charming Southern woman was still strong. At first she had thought it was simply infatuation. Darting a speculative glance at Louis, Estelle said carefully, "Of course, she is attractive."
"Attractive?" Louis sounded incredulous. "Why, she's downright stunning." A smile played around his mouth as if he were contemplating an image of her. "She is also intelligent, charming, and completely captivating.
Estelle tried to keep her tone casual. "Well, of course, I didn't have a chance to get to know her while we were staying at the Springs. I was too busy trying to avoid that terrible woman whose secretary or companion she is—"
"Well, you'll have the opportunity very soon, Estelle. I want to have her out as soon as possible. I want her to see everything—the house, the gardens, the grounds, the winery—really see it, not like it was tonight, filled with people, but as it might be—as a home."
Estelle had a sickening sensation. So things had gone
that far! At least as far as Louis was concerned. And that woman probably saw him as a "good catch," someone to rescue her from her menial position. Well, we shall see about that! The question was, was it too late for her to do anything about it? Perhaps not. But to her brother she said mildly, "Yes, that's a nice idea, Louis. Perhaps in a week or so when we're more settled."
Perhaps all she needed was a little time.
Chapter 11
The day following the Montands' housewarming party, Mrs. Amberly was out of sorts. Her feet were swollen from squeezing them into too-tight, fashionably pointed shoes the night before, and she had indigestion from indulging in the bay shrimp and salmon mousse, the chocolate eclairs and chilled champagne at the lavish buffet. She stayed in bed most of the morning, and in the afternoon she sent Addie into town to buy her some patent medicine and some peptic pills at the pharmacy.
The next day she had recovered sufficiently to give Addie a new shopping list, which now included her favorite confection—caramel covered walnuts. That afternoon while Mrs. Amberly was napping, Addie walked back into Calistoga to take care of another number of errands.
It was a springlike day. Addie was glad to be out in it and away from the strident demands of her employer for a few hours of freedom. She decided to enjoy it. As long as she was in town, she decided to go to the library and select more reading material. Books were Addie's sometime alternative to needlepoint to offset the boredom of the long evenings while Mrs. Amberly played cards. If she didn't occupy herself somehow, Addie found herself inadvertently listening to the shallow conversation, inconsequential comments, and trivial gossip of the players. It amazed her that these people, affluent enough to come to this luxury resort, had so little to absorb and interest them. The place reverberated with undercurrents. Casual remarks were sometimes misconstrued, resulting in feuds when guests magnified small slights into insults so that some of the guests did not speak to each other and others took sides in the most ridiculous way.