“Hush up, brother,” Richard snapped, and took a bite of his roast.
“Are you going to make her famous too, Richard?” Sterling went on bantering while Richard ate. Judith’s face flushed, heated, and her eyes fired daggers at me. Rachael continued to giggle. Mr. Van Dorn, the elderly father, drifted off and slumped down into his chair. Anna had left to greet her fashionably late personal guest.
“She is, most definitely, as breathtaking as Vivienne,” Sterling added, causing Richard to explode, fly up out of his chair, reach across the table, and grab his brother. Rachael had fallen backward onto the floor as the others gasped and cried out for Richard to stop. Mr. Van Dorn’s eyes flew open and he quickly came to.
The men fought with fists pounding into one another. The food, which had been so beautifully spread out along the crisp, white, tablecloth, was scattered and spilled everywhere. I pushed my chair back just before the red wine nearly stained the beautiful gown. There was chaos everywhere.
Betsy was aghast at her son-in-law’s behavior and demanded the fighting stop immediately. Her command was heard, and Richard let go of his chokehold on Sterling. They both had bloody lips and bruised eyes. Sterling fared much worse, and Rachael was furious. She lashed out, “How dare you, Richard, strike out at Sterling for what he said. All of it is true, you know - all of it!”
“Never mind him, Rachael. I need some fresh air. Come with me, darling. The stench in here is wretched.”
They walked past Anna and her woman friend, their expressions stunned. The formal dining room was a disaster. Butlers and maids scurried about cleaning the mess as Betsy fumed, furious. “Those two have no sense. No sense,” she muttered repeatedly. “I have no idea what my daughters see in such troublesome men.”
Anna came to her mother and ushered her out of the room. Her tall, handsome woman friend briefly noticed me, but paid little attention and assisted in comforting Betsy.
I went to go see what had become of Richard and Judith. They had quickly disappeared, and I assumed they had headed upstairs to their private suite. I wasn’t sure where I belonged, where I would sleep for the night. Richard treated me like a pet and expected me to find my place without any guidance.
The house was a maze of halls, turns, and dark corners. The corridors were longer, wider, and colder than Sutton Hall. The thick walls retained a chill from the late afternoon storm. Walking along, I felt as if I was in a mysterious castle. I imagined, for once, that I was the beautiful princess of the magnificent castle and the center of attention. It was I who had created the drama and perhaps delight, at least on Richard’s part. I had not imagined chaos and bedlam would ever appeal to me, but it was beginning to grow on me like moss on a tree - climbing, invading, and becoming a part of my existence.
I listened for voices, and finally a faint sound came from up ahead, in a wing not far from the main staircase. The voices were those of Richard and his wife, though they weren’t raised or heated as I had expected. Sobs and sadness escaped from the small space under the thick door. I crouched down and listened, curious as to what made their relationship tick like a tightly wound clock.
“I swear to you, Judith, it’s nothing like what you think,” Richard implored as he comforted his sobbing wife, begging her to understand. “You need to believe in me, trust me. What troubles you is all in the past. Haven’t I proven myself to you since?”
“I don’t understand why she needs to be here. You promised me you would give up your unrelenting quest to become a famous illustrator. Aren’t you happy with me and with my money? Can’t that ever be enough, Richard?”
There was a long silence, and I could see Richard’s shadow pacing the floor. I was interested to see them interact, and curious to know if Richard was happy just to be her husband. I decided to crack open the door, praying they wouldn’t notice me eavesdropping. My heart pounded madly as I inched open the heavy door just enough so I could peer into their world and witness a marriage, a very different marriage from that of Momma and Daddy.
Judith was facing the window that overlooked the dark river. Richard had stopped and stood behind her. He towered above her short, plump body. I couldn’t see their expressions, but I could feel the significance of the moment and the arduous weight of their union. I waited, holding my breath, to see where I stood, what I meant to Richard - if I truly meant anything at all. If Judith won out and got what she demanded, I would surely have to leave to find my own way, and hope my past wasn’t waiting to catch up to me. I needed Richard to stay fixated on me, to hold onto the dream of making me famous with my beauty. I was his ticket to a dream he must have been holding onto, a dream he wished for long before he ever laid eyes on Judith or me. It was a dream he had planned to fulfill with Vivienne, no doubt; a dream that was shattered the day she was killed. Richard must have been waiting many years for another chance.
It was apparent his own wife didn’t want him to obtain happiness, other than through her. It was their marriage, her money, and in her mind, that should satisfy Richard and make him content. But I knew better. I remembered everything Momma had told me since I was a young girl. A man had to live his dream; it was sewn into his soul long before he met the woman he would choose to stand by him. Only a great woman, the woman he was completely in love with, who stood unconditionally by his side, could make the dream he so badly yearned for come true. Their union kept the brilliance of his dream alive, and did not put it out like water to a fire.
“Judith, you knew what I was when we met. I have sacrificed so much for you already. Drawing is my life. It is my passion. Please don’t take that away from me.” He spoke softly, then gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Judith quickly spun around, fell into his arms, and cried onto his chest like a little girl. “Oh, Richard, don’t you see! It pains me to see how that girl is the way to your heart. I can never be as beautiful as she is, as Vivienne was.”
Richard hushed her the way he had done to me on my frightened nights, but instead of holding her the way a father should a child, his lips lowered and pressed firmly onto hers. I knew he didn’t love her as Daddy loved Momma. He simply could not. Richard was clearly kissing Judith to appease her, to make her feel loved and wanted, so he could continue to keep me. When he undressed her and led her to the bed, the glow of the lamp fell onto Richard’s face, and I could see the blank, vacant look in his eyes. His mind appeared far away, probably on one of those floozy girls he played around with behind his wife’s back.
When I was younger, what a man did with a woman frightened me so much that I feared ever being married. How Warren took me left a sick feeling in my stomach I could never shake. Still, watching Richard make love to his wife intrigued and fascinated me, left me flushed, and filled me with a yearning I easily recalled when I dreamed of Heath, and regrettably had felt long ago for Warren Stone.
When I had seen enough, I eased the door closed and hurried away, so as not to hear Judith’s moans of pleasure. Visions of Richard on top of her lingered with me long past the evening and into the night, and I restlessly tossed and turned in a bed I’d found to curl up in, hoping it was a vacant bed, for no one had told me where I was allowed to sleep.
Morning came with heavy rain and left with overcast skies. Outside, the vast lawns were drenched, and the guests were scattered, lingering about inside. When I came down for breakfast, nearly everyone had eaten already, though a servant seated me and informed me a plate was left on the stove. I was grateful, and didn’t realize Judith and Richard would be joining me in the massive dining hall as I began to scarf down my eggs and bacon.
“Good morning, Lillian,” Richard greeted, as he held out the chair for his wife, who was beaming with happiness from the affection her husband had showered on her the night before. I could feel the heat from my face and wondered if my blush was noticeable.
“Only coffee for me,” he said to the woman servant.
“Eggs and fruit for me, Nanette,” Judith said, and for the first time her gaze upon me was
light and unrestrained, instead of scornful and full of contempt.
“Richard and I have been talking, and I just want to say, Lillian, your company is most welcomed.”
Richard beamed with delight, though his smile revealed a smugness that looked as though he had succeeded in winning first prize at a turkey shoot.
“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I am grateful both you and your husband have allowed me to stay on.”
Judith seemed pleased, content, and easily won over by Richard’s magnetism and passion. It was obvious how Richard captivated Judith, an overweight, older woman who could never have found such an attractive man if it weren’t for her enormous wealth.
The guests went riding that day after the nasty weather had led the way for beautiful warm summer air and pale blue skies. I stayed behind, although Richard had encouraged me to join them. I had never ridden a horse before, except when I was taken by Warren or when I was captured by the constable and Eugenia Arrington. Horse riding was nothing but a bad memory for me.
That evening dinner went rather smoothly - no squabbles, fights, or even a mild argument. Richard and Sterling got along famously, and toasted one another as we all gathered on the west terrace for after-dinner drinks and several different law games, including croquet. When it became too dark to play any longer and the older sisters grew tired from the long day, I left with Rachael, Sterling, and Richard to drink, sing silly songs, and dance as Rachael sat down at the piano in the ballroom. I led a number of old sailor songs I had heard all my life. Surprisingly, Rachael knew most of them, and we taught the distinguished men the words.
“Now come on young sailors and listen to me
Way, hey, blow the man down
Come on young sailors and listen to me
Give me some time to blow the man down…”
The night was fun and merry, and the drinks flowed down my throat, one after another. Sterling and Richard both took turns dancing with me, then with each other, causing Rachael and me to double over laughing. They were silly and childish and more drunk than most seamen who frequented the taverns in the harbors of Maine. We were loud and boisterous, even when we sauntered outside and continued our drinking and songs under the light of the summer moon. And typical of most endings to such nights of gaiety and merriment, just as it was in most taverns, a fight was destined to break out.
“Take your hands off my wife,” Sterling slurred, and stumbled over to where Richard held Rachael in his arms, with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a cigar in another.
“Oh, Sterling, stop it. We’re just playing,” she laughed, and threw her arms around Richard’s neck.
Sterling dropped the bottle and reached for Rachael, then yanked her out of Richard’s arms.
“You’re a drunken fool, brother. Go to bed,” Richard snapped. He was appeared to hold his liquor slightly better than Sterling.
Sterling didn’t waste a minute before he threw a punch at Richard, sending him toppling over. Rachael wanted no part of the sibling rivalry and motioned for me to get inside. “Men are just handsome boys in suits,” she said flatly. We left them on the lawn, rolling around and trying to punch each other with mighty blows.
Rachael and I parted ways in the center hall. She was tired. Her eyes were closed to small slits, and she stumbled about worse than I. Before she turned to go, she said in a hushed voice next to my ear, “Don’t tell a single soul, but I still love Richard.”
All night, my dreams revealed different frightening scenarios in my mind. Rachael was married to Richard and I was married to Sterling. Then Judith was with Warren; they were lovers. I dreamt of them together in bed, Warren was on top of her as Richard had been. Then I was underneath Warren, my hands held back by Eugenia as he pushed himself into me, putting an unholy child inside of me to grow. Then Heath appeared in the cabin where Warren and I had lived and saw me in bed with Warren. He noticed my growing belly and he was disgusted, revolted, and regretted the day he’d ever met me.
I woke up in a pool of sweat and began to cry. When I realized it was a dream, all my emotions came flooding out, and I buried my head in my pillow to muffle my uncontrollable sobs. When I was all cried out, when my chest hurt too much to release another sorrowful moan, I dressed and descended the stairs. To my surprise, Richard was waiting for me, the coach ready to take us back to the city.
“I was just about to send someone to bring you down. We’re ready to go,” he said, and he lifted me inside the coach.
“Judith . . . isn’t she coming?” I asked, as he sat down and closed the door.
“Next week. Her cousin Sarah from Boston is coming for a visit this week.”
Boston rang familiar in my mind, and once again a vision of Heath flashed before me, though it had grown harder as the years passed to remember what he looked like. I recalled when I first arrived on Jasper Island Heath telling me his family was originally from Boston and that when he was older, he would return and become a doctor. Boston was where he planned to go to university and eventually open his own practice. Heath was so inspired . . . couldn’t wait for the day he would be called Doctor Dalton. His dreams and ambitions were not unlike Richard’s. Their passion was evident, and I envied such fortitude.
All the way back to the city, as Richard described our days to come - the sketches, the magazine, the journey we were about to embark upon - I wondered if perhaps I could latch onto his enthusiasm and find a way to become excited at the prospect of my face becoming famous. I thought of my dreams as a child, how I longed to travel the world and explore new customs. I realized that if I did have success, as Richard had promised I would, then my own dreams could come true. I would make enough money to go home. Then from Jasper Island I would set out to England, France, and Italy. It could have been that my chance meeting with Richard wasn’t meant only to save me from the clutches of the laws of the South, but to send me soaring high above, to achieve great success, and finally have everything I had never believed I was entitled to.
I wasn’t sure what life had in store for me, though Richard seemed overwhelmingly confident that my beauty, my face, would be among the most famous in the world.
“Trust me. Soon you will not go anywhere without being recognized. Your image will be desired by every fashion magazine,” Richard said, just as the coach stopped before the city mansion.
Still, I didn’t understand how he planned to make me famous, yet keep me from the arms of the law that was searching high and low for me. Rachael told me on the night we were having fun and drinking that Richard wasn’t going to use Vivienne as my name. “Judith won’t hear of it. It was a ridiculous idea, in any case,” she said, as she handed me several dresses she insisted I take back to the city with me.
“Can you tell me more about her . . . about Vivienne?” I asked.
“Another time, Lillian.” She sighed heavily. “Another time.”
* * *
Chapter Five
Can’t tell up from down
The next morning Richard had me up at summer’s early light, excited to take advantage of the brilliant day and begin his new sketch to present to Mr. Hudson later that afternoon. I was inclined as I sat for him to ask how he planned to market my face without exposing me to the law. They were looking for me, and how much easier could he make it than by plastering my face on the cover of a renowned magazine.
As always when he was drawing, he didn’t talk much. He would twist his lips so they became distorted, his eyes would narrow onto me, looking at me closely, intent on capturing every detail of my face, from the small dimples in my cheeks to the subtle cleft in my chin, which I had unfortunately inherited from my father . . . my real father. Richard was certain to portray my “dazzling eyes,” as he called them, my high, pronounced cheekbones, and my naturally full lips.
While he drew, I pondered an inquisition. Should I demand to know how he was going to continue to promote my fame, yet all the while keep me safe? Would I dare challenge the man, the only person who was looking out
for me? Richard was mild mannered and even tempered, and I didn’t think my questions would trigger anger. But would he begrudge my lack of confidence in him? I wondered . . .
The day dragged on, and the portrait was taking so long I grew tired, restless, and hungry. I hadn’t eaten any breakfast.
“Can’t we stop for a while? It’s lunch time,” I pleaded. He didn’t look up; he was so deep in his work that he hadn’t heard me. So I stood up.
“Please don’t change position like that. Sit back down where I indicated. Turn your head down and away from the sunlight. I’m almost finished. Then you can come see how magnificent it is.”
I plopped back down, though I didn’t position myself as he wanted. That’s when he grew frustrated with me. He had no idea how difficult it was for me to sit motionless for hours, without conversation . . . without a moment to stretch my neck.
“You’re not doing as I ask,” Richard complained, and that was when I’d had enough.
“I’m hungry and tired of sitting here. What’s the use anyway, Richard. You and I both know you can’t go through with this.”
With a frown, Richard put down his pencil and asked, “What do you mean by that?”
I hesitated before I said another word. He marched over to where I sat and hovered over me, impatiently waiting for a response. When I turned my face away from him, avoiding his eyes, he told me to go downstairs and have Agnes make me lunch. “Then come back. I want to finish today.”
While I ate, soothing my grumbling stomach, I felt better, and just to help me relax, I washed down my deviled eggs with a shot of brandy, then another. “That’s better,” I said to myself, and I headed back to Richard.
The liquor helped me unwind, and Richard seemed pleased with how well I now followed his instructions. It pleased him the way my shoulders softened up; they weren’t so awkwardly stiff. “Nice, very nice. Yes . . . perfect!” he exclaimed.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 62