Flowers in the Blood

by Gay Courter

  “How nice, Ruby, I am certain they will be very lovely,” I replied on my way past her. In the small drawing room I found Zilpah and my father discussing Ruby with Grandmother Helene. Nobody asked me to leave the room.

  “Tell me, Helene,” Zilpah said, holding her hands out in supplication. “What am I to do with a girl who has the sense of a baby and the body of a woman?”

  “She's a pretty thing,” Grandmother Helene said with a touch of pride in her voice. “Doesn't she remind you of Mozelle?” she asked Benu.

  “I suppose so,” my father responded gruffly.

  “You might consider finding her a husband, someone mature, who would look after her.”

  Zilpah was shocked. “That's ridiculous. How could she manage on her own?”

  “There would be the family of the husband, her dowry, servants . . . and I always would be there for her,” Grandmother Helene replied earnestly.

  “It's barbaric,” Zilpah sniffed.

  Aware of the resistance, she did not push the issue. “Well, there's plenty of time to plan for Ruby. May I suggest you keep your minds open? You never know when the right opportunity might present itself. We have learned the folly of waiting too long in these matters.” She shot me an apologetic glance.

  The preparations had left me feeling hopeful, so comments about my situation were no longer like barbs pressed under my skin. I had lived with the facts long enough to have accepted them; and I also had realized the dire predictions of my elders often proved false. Hadn't Silas come along? And now this Mr. Salem was a new mystery: The Mystery of Edwin Salem. I ached to know what he looked like and whether he would find me attractive. Nothing could have been worse than my first reaction to Silas, and if it had not been for our insurmountable problem, I might have carved out some happiness there. Or maybe I was going about this all wrong. I should have rejected Silas because my first reaction had been the most accurate assessment of the man, but was it fair to judge the next man by that standard? I could be content with a good man who did not dazzle me. After all, the chance that I could interest a marvelous match had long ago been lost.

  Because my parents had not yet met the Salems, Zilpah decided they would have a preliminary discussion with the boy and his mother without me.

  “You can't exclude me. I must see him! How else am I to know—?”

  “Of course you will see him,” she replied smoothly. “My scheme should please everyone. Edwin and his mother will arrive at the front portico, and your father and I will escort them into the hall for refreshments. If, after we become acquainted with them, your father and I are in agreement that the boy is suitable, I will suggest a tour of the rose garden. You will be on the upstairs veranda assisting your sisters with their studies. From there you may contemplate the boy—and he may contemplate you—without the awkwardness of a direct encounter.”

  “When would I meet him?”

  “If you like what you see, formal arrangements will commence. A few days after that we will introduce you to Mr. Salem. You would then have at least a week to become acquainted before contracting the engagement.”

  “And if I do not care for him . . .”

  “Dinah, nobody will force you to marry against your will.”

  With resignation I accepted Zilpah's plans and tried to occupy myself until November. Since responding to Edwin Drood, I had been taking more time before replying to Silas. I had deliberately decided not to tell him about Edwin Salem until we arranged a marriage. Otherwise he would worry that he had ruined my chances. I kept occupied by tutoring my sisters, although my mind drifted as I imagined the possibilities. Let his faults be obvious! was my most fervent wish.

  On Sunday morning, the first of November, I woke to what seemed to be the sound of a tabla drum. After a few confused semiconscious moments, I realized it was the fierce, anticipatory beat of my heart.

  Seti popped in. “Aren't you coming downstairs?”

  “No, not today.” I was expected to join my parents for breakfast, but could manage no more than a taste of tea and a few slices of fruit in my room.

  “When is he coming?” Seti asked after her own meal in the nursery.

  “Eleven o'clock.”

  “Why aren't you ready?”

  “There is plenty of time:”

  When Seti next bounded in, she chided, “You still aren't dressed!”

  “I haven't had my bath.”

  “What if they are early?”

  “They will not be,” I replied peevishly. “It would be rude to be early.”

  “Maybe they are rude people.” Seti stuck out her tongue and ran away.

  Her visits were punctuated by Ruby's, who kept inquiring about what she might wear. “Shall I wear a pink dress?”

  “Pink would be lovely,” I said distractedly.

  A few minutes later she was back. “What about the blue with the white stripes?”

  “That is a very suitable dress. Wear it if you like.”

  “What do you want me to wear, Dinah?” she said in a whining voice that unnerved me.

  “Ruby, I do not care what you wear. Have Selima help you dress, and leave me in peace!”

  When she ran off sulking, I was so pleased to be alone as I buttoned myself into my green-and-white outfit that I did not regret my snappish remarks.

  At half-past ten Jonah came by to announce that he and Pinhas were off to a friend's house and wished me well. “They've banished us from the territory.”

  “Thank goodness. If the Salems took one look at either of you, my chances would be ruined,” I said, forcing a smile.

  “Listen, Dinah, if he's a frog, forget it.” My brother gave me a supportive grin. “For your sake, I hope he's a prince.”

  “Frankly, I rather like frogs, if they stay in their original skins. It is those princes who turn out to be frogs that are more alarming.” I pointed to my green skirt. “Besides, a frog would match rather nicely, don't you think?”

  Jonah bent over—he was taller than I by a foot—and kissed me on the cheek gently so as not to muss my hair. The gesture caught me off-guard, and tears welled up at his unexpected empathy. “Don't worry, Asher is on duty today,” he mumbled as he rushed off.

  “What?” I called after him. He must not have heard me, because Seti pranced through the open door, speaking excitedly. “Wait till you see Ruby!” I heard Ruby giggling in the corridor. “Come in and show her,” she prodded.

  “No, I don't want to.” Ruby's tone was petulant.

  Curious, I came to the doorway and was confronted by an astonishing sight. Instead of a short child's frock, Ruby was wearing a blue-and-pink dress with a tight-nipped cuirasse bodice. Her sleeves were elbow-length and ended in ruffles. The frilly yards of dark pink ribbons, bows, and laces amused me until my eyes riveted on the mature, square-cut décolletage. Ruby had pushed her breasts up so two mounds protruded past their lacy shield.

  “I do not remember you being fitted for that dress,” I sputtered. “Where did you get it?”

  “A gift from Grandmother Helene.”

  “And who did your hair?” Her lush black curls had been drawn on top of her head, with long spirals draping to her shoulders. The front had been crimped into tidy rows that emphasized her large eyes. “You are far too young to wear your hair up.”

  “I am tired of everyone treating me like a baby.”

  “I think she looks almost as old as you do,” Seti said, fueling my concern that Ruby had added five years with the transformation. “Selima worked on it for an hour. Isn't she beautiful?” Seti crooned enviously.

  “Has Z-Zilpah seen her?” I stammered.

  “No, it's a surprise,” Seti admitted.

  “Don't you like it?” Ruby sniffed.

  “Well, Ruby . . . I don't think it is a good choice for this particular morning,” I began. “Why don't you change into that yellow dress you look so pretty in?” Large drops cascaded down her round cheeks. “You could leave your hair up, though,” I added to soften the blo
w.

  “You don't like it!” she wailed as she rushed from the room with Seti dashing behind her.

  The upstairs clock chimed eleven. Before I could calm myself, Yali signaled that the Salems had arrived. From Zilpah's plan, I knew how the encounter would proceed. First there would be greetings near the portico. Zilpah would lead the way, followed by Mrs. Salem, Edwin, and Benu as they moved into the hall. They would stand about for a minute or so to take in the long view of the garden, admire the Chinese objects, then sit down to refreshments served by Abdul and his son, Hanif, who was learning to assist him. The clock struck the quarter-hour. I visualized the strangers seated in the leather chairs opposite my parents: she was short, round, with chubby cheeks and a docile smile. He too was short—shorter than I, but that was all right— with a stocky, muscular build and a likable face. Nothing flashy, but pleasant, friendly, easy to live with. I could be satisfied with a man like that . . . he would be a good father . . . like Uncle Jacob . . . My mind wandered as I thought about the amiable chatter of no consequence that was covering the next thirty minutes.

  At the half-hour chime, I sat at my dressing table, moistening capricious strands of hair and pushing them back into place. The reflection in the glass mocked me. Compared with Ruby's naturally peachy skin tone, mine seemed sickly. Compared with Ruby's succulent globes, my breasts were barely discernible under the sensible jacket. Next to her youthful ribbons and laces, I looked like a spinster in a man's waistcoat.

  The three-quarter-hour bells chimed. My father should be taking Mrs. Salem on a tour of the downstairs rooms, while Zilpah would be trying to draw Edwin out.

  Twelve o'clock. Now my father and Mrs. Salem must be in the parlor. This is when Papa would ask pointed questions about Edwin, as well as explain about Silas. If that went well, the four of them would reunite in the garden at a quarter past. The moment had come for me to go out to the veranda. I tiptoed down the hall.

  “Dinah!” someone called in a husky hush.

  I clutched my throat with surprise. “Asher! You frightened me.”

  He grabbed my arm and said breathlessly, “I saw him!”

  Simon stumbled behind him. “Yes, we both did.”

  “But how . . . ?”

  “Didn't Jonah tell you what we were going to do?”

  I had forgotten Jonah's mentioning Asher and shook my head.

  “On purpose, we left some balls on the terrace table just outside the hall. Then, while we pretended to look for them, we caught a glimpse through the window.”

  “Well?” Though I could see Asher's mouth moving, I could barely hear his reply because a rushing sound, like a cyclonic wind, blocked my ears. “What?”

  “He's a splendid-looking fellow, really he is. Much better than that Judah boy you liked, and Silas is a toad compared to this guy.”

  Toads and frogs . . . I almost laughed, but the muscles in my jaw were so tense I could barely force my lips to function. “Really? Is he . . . fat?”

  Asher's cherubic face glistened. Dimples winking, he went on, “No.”

  “Short?”

  “Not at all. He might even be taller than Jonah, but I can't say for sure because he was sitting down.”

  “What else?”

  “You'll see soon enough, but I didn't want you to brood.”

  I studied his expression for any hint of deception. Asher's face was open and filled with good tidings.

  The clock struck the quarter-hour.

  I was late!

  Crouched down, Seti peered through the veranda's stone balustrade. I hung back in the doorway. “Are they in the garden yet?”

  “No, but I can hear them talking underneath, so they must be outside,” she said in a voice that seemed to boom in my ears.

  “Shhh!” I warned as I took my place next to Ruby, who was still dressed in her ridiculous flounces. Infuriated at her disobedience, I flushed, but could not say anything. Below us I could hear my father's bass laugh. I pretended to read. “Seti, your lessons,” I hissed.

  “I can't see out if I stand up,” she protested. “Look, here they come!”

  The four of them made their way down the path farthest from us. My father led, with Mrs. Salem close beside him. Only their backs were visible. Contrary to my expectations, Mrs. Salem wore a slim black dress that fell to the ground in a bell shape. The sole decoration was a hem and collar trimmed in a mouse silk. The fine taste of the widow's gown won my admiration, and I was hopeful that what I had worn would appeal to her in turn. Next came Zilpah in a lavender sari which swirled around her in the light breeze. A few years ago I might have wished her to have worn a European dress, but today I was filled with pleasure at. how gracefully she moved, even floated, out into the dappled light of the palm-shaded walk. Edwin, or the shape of a man who could have been nobody else, walked ahead and slightly to the right of her. The wind was blowing from the left, so the folds of the fabric that wafted out from Zilpah left my prospect hidden behind an infuriating curtain.

  At the end of the garden that faced the house—the place where my mother's furniture pyre had been built—was the most prominent of Grandmother Helene's legacies: the rose arbor. In the distance I could see Zilpah pointing to the rare blooms, and Mrs. Salem's nodding admiration. My father stood behind the women. At last Edwin turned away from them and faced the house.

  My first glimpse of him is as vivid to me today as it was then. He appeared in a sparkling circle of midday sun that glinted off his high brow, yet left his face in shadow because his head was tilted slightly down. Then, as if he knew he was being observed, his back straightened. His wide, clean-shaven face and chiseled chin glinted in the pool of golden light. A sheaf of long hair had fallen over one eye. With a gesture that caused me to tremble with excitement, he brushed back the straight sheaf of brown locks with spread fingers.

  The two men started forward down the center path, directly toward us. The ladies lingered behind. Seti stayed at her post, but Ruby, who could not contain herself, stood up and leaned over the balcony for a better view. I caught a glimpse of a breast even more exposed than before, but had no time to chastise her, since any movement of mine could be seen. With my book propped on the table I managed to sit facing the end of the veranda, but twisted my neck so in my periphery vision I could follow every one of Edwin's long-strided movements.

  Seti could not contain herself. “Here they come!”

  I gave her a kick to silence her. She winced, but took heed.

  My father was speaking to him. “Your mother and I have come to an understanding. The only thing you have to do is make your choice.”

  Make your choice? That was an odd way of asking him if he wanted to consider marrying me or not.

  “What do you mean?” Edwin replied. His head was lowered as though he were watching his step. I saw a delicate pink tinge at the nape of his neck, then that gesture again: the fingers slicing through the hair, with every strand falling into place like obedient slaves. He was not ten feet away from where I was sitting. He did not look up at the veranda, but had turned three-quarters of the way around to face my father.

  My inner tabla again threatened to drown out the voices. I felt as though I was pushing walls of water away from me as I fought to hear my father's muffled words. “In good faith you have come a long way, so your mother and I have agreed to permit you to choose between either of my eligible daughters. Dinah is the elder of the two and Ruby is the younger one. They are very different young women, but either would make you a fine wife.”

  Either! Was this his response to the problem about Ruby? Was he going to marry her off to my Edwin, to that glorious man, who at first sight seemed as unpretentious and candid as Silas had been refined and impenetrable? The invisible flood rose up and threatened to crash on me as I leaned back away from the railing without a thought for how my recoiling might appear. As if responding to a very different set of phenomena, Ruby leaned forward and waved.

  How free and young and pretty she looked! How muc
h smaller and more pliable she would seem! There were no Silas, no Luna, no difficulties in her past. How long would it take before Edwin realized how hopelessly slow she was? Or would he even care? Men liked women who did their bidding without question. What must I have looked like at that moment? Certainly I was pale, frightened, and shaking from the shock of my father's betrayal. Even more discouraging, I was dressed like Ruby's mother instead of her sister. I could not look at him to see how he was reacting to Ruby's insouciant glee. It was all I could do to sit upright and go on breathing through the next hideous minutes.

  “Yes, that's my little Ruby on the right.” I imagined that Edwin's eyes had riveted on her moist cleavage. “And Dinah on the left.”

  I kept my eyes down at my book until a force from somewhere outside my body seemed to be lifting my head up and shifting it to the side. For one long, impetuous second I met Edwin's upturned gaze. The intensity of his profoundly confused expression caused my left eye to twitch. I turned away abruptly.

  When I again pivoted around, Edwin had vanished.

  25

  Zilpah was by my side, holding my hand. I was oblivious to anything more than her presence. If she spoke, I did not hear her. The crashing of cymbals, the deeper clatter of the pakhawaj drum, joined my insistent tabla.

  The music diminished, as though a procession had moved off into the distance. Zilpah spoke close to my ear. “Dinah, he wants only you. Mr. Salem spoke to your father. He said: I choose Dinah.' “

  I stared into her coal-black eyes, desperate for them to be clear and true. She could not meet my gaze. “What else?” I dared.

  “His mother did have the last word. 'Mr. Sassoon is being most generous,' she said. 'He has told me about the two fine young women. We will return to our lodgings and talk this over together.' “

  “Then it is not decided.”

  “As a mother, I can understand her reluctance to stand by her son's hasty remark.”