Richard jumped out of his seat and followed me to the foyer where I prepared to step out into the pouring rain. I turned and looked up to him, and was about to ask him to retrieve my journal from his safe, when he abruptly said, “They know it was you.”
“What do you mean?” I uttered in a panic as a heavy lump formed in my throat.
“My sister-in-law, Rachael, she sent a telegram. The law is looking all over for you. I didn’t want to tell you this so soon, not after the condition you were in last night, but you give me no choice, Lillian. Don’t you see, you have to stay here? It is the last place the law would ever think to look for you, and the lighthouse station would be the first.”
Richard reached out and placed his hands on my sobbing shoulders. My strong will to maintain the inner strength to lead me home immediately vanished, and I was shaken and troubled once again. Everything bad had a way of catching up to me.
“You have no choice, my dear. If you go to your beloved island, all those you love could be arrested for harboring you.”
I gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes and knew he was right.
“Come and sit, have a drink, relax. We will figure this all out. Just be patient,” Richard said, and he poured me a drink from one of his fancy glass decanters.
I swallowed the nasty tasting drink and closed my eyes, and soon my heart began to slow down, my shaking stopped, and I felt better. Richard poured me one more glass of liquor, then sat me down next to him on the settee. “Shopping will help take your mind off your troubles. It certainly does for Judith. Let me take you to her favorite shops where you can choose some new dresses and hats.”
“I can’t, Richard. I have no way to repay you,” I said in a most relaxed tone. The room was spinning and my whole body felt as if it were going to float right off the seat and up to the top of the hand-carved mahogany ceiling.
Richard thought for a moment as he rubbed his chin with the tips of his long fingers, then said, “You can sit for me and allow me to do a portrait of you. That way you can earn the dresses. That would certainly be fair, wouldn’t it?”
I began to giggle uncontrollably. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t stop. The thought of posing for him again, possibly topless, would normally have me running away in fear, regardless of the consequences. But the drinks had me thinking differently, unclear and uninhibited.
“Sure, Richard, that would be fair,” I said through my silly giggles.
Edgar interrupted with the announcement that the coach was waiting for us.
“Thank you, Edgar,” he said, and helped me to my feet. As we went to leave, Edgar opened a large umbrella and held it over us as we hurried into the coach.
The rain fell hard, and I leaned my head out the window, trying to catch the drops on my tongue as the driver ushered the horse on through the busy streets of New York City. “Lillian, sit down,” Richard insisted, and he eased me down onto the bench seat.
Again, I giggled. I saw the amusement in his eyes.
“This is fun. I’m glad you convinced me to stay,” I told him.
He lit up a cigar as I rested my head against his arm. I liked the way I was feeling, what the drink did for me. It somehow blew the dark clouds of my dreary days away and gave me a sense of control, optimism, and much needed confidence.
Our shopping spree lasted all day. With much merriment, we went from fashionable shop to shop and purchased beautiful, elegant dresses such as only rich women possessed. Richard looked pleased as I picked dozens of hats, several pairs of gloves, and three pairs of shoes for myself.
“Judith never enjoys herself the way you do. She always has a sour puss,” he told me.
Richard took me out to a fancy restaurant for lunch and another for dinner, and we arrived back to the mansion on Fifth Avenue at nine o’clock. I was tired and my stomach was doing flip-flops from all the drinks Richard had ordered for me. I could barely keep my eyes open, and needed assistance when I tried to walk up the steps to the front door. By the time we were inside, my legs gave way, and I collapsed into Richard’s arms.
“Is everything all right?” I thought I heard Edgar inquire.
“I don’t feel well,” I moaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Get Agnes, will you, Edgar?”
“Yes, Mr. Parker.”
I was whisked to a room somewhere on the second floor where I was placed in a bathroom to heave up all the contents in my stomach. Without a word, Agnes wiped my sweaty brow and held my hair back each time I vomited. Only when I was finished, when my stomach had nothing left to give, and my head was pounding as if beaten with a stick, did Richard come in and order Agnes out. “I will see to her now.”
Richard lifted me off the cold marble bathroom floor and carried me into my room. On the bed was a gown for me to wear, and without my consent, Richard undressed me. “Seeing nudity is ordinary to me. It’s normal. Just like it would be to a doctor,” he explained. “It doesn’t arouse me the way you would think.”
After he had me in my nightgown, Richard eased me under the covers and placed a quick kiss on my cheek. “I will send up some medicine for you in the morning to help with the headache. Then, in the afternoon, I will introduce you to some of my business acquaintances.”
“But . . .” I tried to ask why, but Richard hushed me by putting his finger over my lips, blew out the light, and left me to drift off into a long night of oblivion.
Just as Richard had said, the medicine helped relieve most of my headache, though I had no desire to eat. Agnes brought up some dry toast and juice, and for the first time, spoke to me. “Just nibble. You need to get something in your stomach.”
“Thank you,” I replied, and took a small bite.
“Mr. Parker would like you up and dressed, so get done,” she said flatly, then left the room.
I ate what I could, sipped on the juice, and was ready when Richard came to retrieve me. I remembered little of the night before, and he didn’t say anything about it.
“I like the dress you chose to wear. We are going to the theater, my dear,” he stated, and then led me out.
Richard was dressed in one of his most elegant suits, and I felt honored to be in his presence. With my arm intertwined through his, Richard began to introduce me to all of his wealthy gentleman friends. “Lillian, this is my good friend, Bart Wilco. This is his theater.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilco,” I said, as he leaned in and took my gloved hand, then pecked it with his thin, pale lips.
“The pleasure is all mine. Enjoy the play,” he said. He gave Richard a sly look and went on to greet some of the other audience members.
“Follow me,” Richard said, taking hold of my hand.
When we were backstage, I apprehensively pressed up next to Richard as he greeted the beautiful actors. They all knew him and greeted him by his first name. One girl in particular, with long, frizzy black hair, immodestly dressed, revealing most of her bosom, seemed to be especially fond of Richard. In fact, all the girls were dressed that way. What kind of play is this?
“Wanda, this is Lillian, a friend of the family,” Richard introduced.
Wanda winked playfully at Richard and gave me a strange smile, then sat down in the chair before a small mirror to check her face one last time before she went out onstage.
“So, what do you think?” Richard asked me, as we stood back and watched the girls hurry by.
“Think about what?”
Richard chuckled, then grabbed one of the prettiest girls as she walked past us. “Phoebe, come say hello to Lillian,” he said, and pulled her close.
“Hi ya, kid. What is a little thin’ like you doin’ hangin’ around with a guy like Richard?” she cackled.
“Oh, stop,” Richard laughed, and smacked her behind before nudging her away. She laughed and hurried off with the other girls.
“Let’s go take our seats. The play is about to start.”
Together we found our front row seats. Richard had me sit
beside Mr. Wilco, who leaned in and said to me, “Enjoy.”
At first I wasn’t sure what to think, but as the performance progressed, I was amused at the satires mocking Shakespearian drama, the dancing, and the short routines with quick-witted humor that indeed made me laugh. The audience agreed. They were amused and roared with laughter. At the end of the show the cast received a standing ovation.
When it was over, Richard and Mr. Wilco spoke for a moment while I sat in my seat, continuously being looked over by older men. Uncomfortable, I turned away from their lingering eyes.
“We have been invited to Bart’s apartment for a party. I told him we would go.” Without waiting for my response, Richard had us in a carriage and on our way through the city to Bart Wilco’s luxury apartment located in one of the tallest buildings I had ever seen. In the elevator, I nervously clung to the walls as we made our way up to the top floor. Inside the enormous smoke-filled residence were many girls I recognized from the show, and many men, all mingling, drinking, laughing, and smoking cigars. Even the women!
As I entered the main room with tall windows overlooking the vast Central Park, I recognized Wanda sitting on an older man’s lap as he insistently kissed her neck while holding a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other.
“Let me introduce you around,” Richard said, and took my hand.
“I don’t know. I don’t think I belong here,” I whispered.
Richard believed I was years older than sixteen, and because of that, I was being thrown into a world of adult pastimes, which left me both frightened and curious. But I knew I didn’t belong, and I needed Richard to know, too. “Can I talk to you?” I asked, tugging on his hand to capture his attention.
Phoebe approached and handed us each a drink, then said with laughter in her voice, “Where is the missus tonight, Richard?”
“You know better,” Richard snickered and gulped down the liquor. Then he turned to me and motioned me to do the same.
I didn’t want to, but he insisted.
“That will help you relax. Now come say hello to Bart and thank him for inviting you to his exclusive party.”
Mr. Wilco was talking amongst a small group of men when we approached. They all stopped talking and smiled widely at me. Richard nudged me to speak, so I stepped forward, extended my hand, and nervously said, “Thank you, sir, for inviting me to your home.”
The men all stared at me, which left me uncomfortable. I remembered how men used to look at Momma, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, stunned by her beauty. I was now being looked at the same way, and I hated it. However, Richard beamed with pride as he introduced me. “I would like you all to meet Miss Lillian. I intend to present her portrait to the magazine,” he announced.
“She is as breathtaking as you have claimed,” one younger man said. They spoke as if I weren’t standing there.
“I told Lillian she could make a fortune from her beauty, but I am not certain she believes me.” He laughed, and they all laughed merrily along with him.
Wanda soon came over, threw her small, thin arm around Richard, and whispered something in his ear. He excused himself and followed her, along with Phoebe, into a private room. I was left ill at ease standing with the men, and in a moment I took a seat by the windows, far away from everyone. The girls from the show occasionally peered over at me with scowls in their faces and eyes that could almost burn my flesh. I shifted in the chair so I would face out the windows.
The park below presented a subtle glow from the many lampposts, and I thought it could be a wonderful place to escape, to get lost, to run and hide. The tall trees reminded me of the woods that surrounded Warren’s cabin, and the unspeakable thing that had happened there. As much as I wanted to erase it all from my mind, it was nearly impossible. I regretted so much in life, and trusting Warren Stone was my biggest regret. If only I could go back in time, I would have run from him when I was lost in the marsh, instead of trusting him the way I had. I would have never allowed myself to fall in love and become trapped in his web of lies and sinful deceptions. If only. . .
* * *
Chapter Three
See the other side
The night dragged on, and I found myself accepting drink after drink from the waiter, until I was relaxed and giddy, being entertained by the men who took turns coming over to talk to me. Everything warned me, but all my intuition and the invisible suit of armor to protect myself came off when I had too much to drink.
“Where are you from?” one man asked, who introduced himself as Ned Griffin.
He was just as tall and lean as Richard, and around the same age, but his hair was darker, his eyes very mysterious, and his face more mature and distinguished. I giggled and almost spilled my drink on his trousers, then replied, “I am from the sea.”
“Oh, are you a mermaid then?” he teased with an impish grin.
I laughed even harder and collapsed against him. Other men came over to watch me make a fool of myself, and surrounded me with jokes and laughter. When Richard finally emerged from the room, followed a moment later by Wanda and Phoebe, he whisked me away.
“I was having fun,” I pouted when we were outside waiting for a carriage to take us home.
“I think you were having a little too much fun,” he grumbled.
“Not as much fun as you and those girls, I bet.” I giggled.
He ignored my remark and assisted me into the carriage. When we were seated and on our way, Richard revealed the identity of Ned Griffin. “He is another theater owner. His shows are even more risqué than Bart’s. He is a rich man with no focus. I personally don’t like him.”
“He seemed nice to me,” I said.
“He is nice to all young ladies,” he muttered.
It wasn’t long before we were back at the mansion and I was helping myself to another drink.
“I think you’ve had enough tonight. Why don’t you get up to bed,” he said, trying to take the drink from my hand. I quickly snatched my hand away, causing the glass to fall to the floor and shatter in a hundred pieces. I started to laugh hysterically, then suddenly began to cry as I knelt down and carefully tried to pick up each of the broken pieces of glass. Richard leaned over and lifted me up. “Edgar can tend to this. It’s time for bed,” he said insistently. Without another word, I agreed to go to my room and again sleep off my drunken stupor.
The next morning I didn’t feel as bad as the first time I’d had too much to drink, but Agnes did give me a cool cloth for my head and insisted I rest until Richard came back from his morning appointment.
I lay in bed until my headache went away, then, before noon, I dressed and found myself waiting impatiently in the parlor for Richard’s return. Edgar asked stiffly if I needed anything. When I said, “No, thank you,” he managed to stay clear of me.
I was relieved when Richard arrived, and thought perhaps he would want to take me for a walk and show me more of the city. However, he had one thing on his mind, and that was to tell me all about his late morning meeting with the editor. “John Hudson . . . he is my boss and editor-in-chief . . . was elated with my sketch of you,” Richard declared, his eyes wide and filled with excitement. “He wants you to be on the cover. It is just as I thought; I knew he would be captivated with your stunning looks.” Richard came to me and sat down, then explained how he would take care of everything for me. “You just have to show up. The rest, all the other details, will be left to me.”
I didn’t understand why he thought I would be the least bit interested, or how sketching me for the cover of one of the world’s most famous magazines would allow me to lay low and out of the eye of the law.
“I know what you're thinking. Nevertheless, it’s not a big commitment. And we will use an assumed name,” Richard said reassuringly, and he took hold of my hands. “Then you can have enough money to get your father out of all of his financial troubles. You would like to do that for him, wouldn’t you?” Richard’s dark eyes narrowed down onto me, seeming to look for any sign tha
t I might be a terrible daughter and not want to help my father any way I could. Little did Richard know it was all a lie, that Daddy was dead and not in financial trouble as I’d led him to believe. There was no way I could reveal my deception. I didn’t want to risk losing my safe harbor, and I reluctantly, agreed.
“Good. Very, very good,” he said excitedly. “I promise I will handle all the details. Even your name. You shall go by the name Vivienne.”
I sat stunned speechless at the idea of using the name of a dead woman he had once been most fond of. Richard saw my surprise and disbelief, though he chose to ignore it.
“Tomorrow we are going out to the estate to spend a few days, and when we return, we’ll get started on the cover. For now,” he said, facing me with eyes full of excitement, “I am inspired, and I want to do another personal sketch of you. After all, you did promise me one more.”
There was excitement and passion in Richard’s eyes. It reminded me of Heath. I was flabbergasted and didn’t know what direction he was taking me. I had assumed that my stay with Richard would be quiet and subdued, that I would stay in the shadows of the city until I was able to sneak away and return to Maine without being discovered. The last thing I had ever wanted was to be in the spotlight, for any reason, good or bad.
Richard soon had me upstairs in his private room, directing me on how to sit. “The light is perfect today,” he mumbled to himself, while taking out the supply of paints instead of pencils. “And I think I will do an oil painting of you. I have only dabbled with paints. I always wanted to do one of Vivienne. ”
He stood back and studied me for a while, then began to work. I wondered what about that young woman made him so obsessed. Was it the way Heath was with Clara - a simple crush - or was it something more, something as dark and disturbing as Warren’s manic obsession with my mother and then me? I had become aware of how men fixate on women, how they do nothing but think and breathe them. I saw firsthand how a simple crush could lead to a tumultuous fixation and eventual tragedy.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 60