Wallace was still peering at her. “So, I guess we are boring you.”
Now he was getting on her frayed nerves. She looked at him, meeting his now-piercing stare. “You said it, not I.”
Obviously irritated, he pursed his lips, while the others remained silent. His face reddened even more. “We came out here to entertain you. Most of us have been here before.”
Why would he not let this drop? She glared at him. “Perhaps you might have consulted me first.”
Anger flashed brightly in his eyes, matching the burn in hers. He said curtly, “Perhaps you might have been more entertained by a ring full of elephants and tigers. Perhaps we should have taken you to . . .”
Etta’s head jerked back, and she stared even harder. Wallace stood without moving and paled, an expression on his face: instant realization, then almost horror, and certain fear.
Things had suddenly become much more interesting. Immediately, her composure returned. Etta focused on Wallace. “To . . . ?” she asked with her head cocked to one side like an inquisitive bird. “To what?”
He didn’t answer.
“What, dear Wallace? Where could we go? Don’t be shy now. Don’t hesitate to finish what you’ve started.”
Wallace glanced at Grace, who appeared aghast. She stared back at him in obvious dismay, and then she looked down into her lap, her forehead creased like pleated fabric.
This was clearly an awkward moment for everyone present. No one smiled, and Wallace made what seemed like an involuntary grimace. Jonathan scratched that unfortunate scar on his cheek.
“I was going to say . . .” Wallace gulped, “that we could take you to the circus.” He glanced at Grace and then said, “Sorry. I forgot myself . . .”
Grace gave no reply, and Etta watched as four sets of averted eyes and halting movements affirmed Wallace’s grievous slip.
But Etta almost laughed aloud. Obviously her cousin wasn’t able to keep private information to herself, and the smart gentleman with the big mouth had opened his mouth one too many times. Etta smiled in Grace’s direction, letting her know this disclosure wasn’t the harbinger of death, but Grace wouldn’t meet her eyes, and her eyelashes were batting about like butterflies.
“No need to be sorry,” said Etta as she gazed back at Wallace. “I find people from all walks of life to be interesting and entertaining. And sometimes people who excel at odd things do so because they have little else to live for. There’s power in such desperation. One shouldn’t make the mistake of discounting it. As for me,” she said, smiling, “I plan to experience everything I can.”
“Oh,” said Wallace, who remained unmoving in that same awkward pose. His mistake hung over them, and Etta didn’t know how they would work themselves out from under it. Yes, things were definitely becoming more interesting.
Then Wallace simply went back to shoveling.
Grace began repacking the picnic baskets. Larke sat very still. Finally she cleared her throat with a sound like a frog’s croak, but when Etta’s glance met Larke’s eyes, she saw something like admiration in those depths, which were almost as dark as her own. Or was it fear? Then she looked at Jonathan, expecting some type of glaring look. Well, he did have a glaring expression on his face, but it was aimed not at Etta but at Grace.
Grace, focused on repacking, didn’t even see it.
Chapter Seven
GRACE
At first, I tried pretending as if nothing had happened. But over the next two days I could see that Etta was avoiding me, waving off my attempts at conversation and keeping her nose inside a novel she said was riveting. When I invited her into my room to chat, she said, “I’m busy at the moment,” and when I found her on the front portico staring into the street, she claimed some reason to go inside.
An apology was certainly in order, but what was I to say? That during a foolish moment I’d said something I immediately regretted? I had suffered a foolish moment, but it hadn’t been an accident, and how could I explain that away? Etta had been nothing but kind and pleasant to me ever since her arrival. If only I could take back what I’d done.
I remained in a state of heightened awareness, watching Mother swoop about the house, ordering servants about, hosting private visits with friends, and then looking harshly upon me while the three of us were dining, speaking primarily to Etta. I dreaded an answer to my question, but the question remained: Had my mother found out?
I spent most of my time in my room. Three days came and went, and I started to believe I had been spared. I didn’t deserve it, but I was relieved nevertheless. And I vowed to myself never to do something so impulsive again.
Immediately after arriving home from an outing one evening, Mother ushered me into her private parlor in a way that startled even me. Her movements were fevered, and her lips pursed. “Close the door behind you, please,” she ordered.
In front of her settee, she positioned herself like a marble monument and said, “I know what you’ve done.”
So the gossip circuit had assured that my mother was informed but had not served to warn me. Not even Dolly had given me time to equip myself.
Fire in her eyes, Mother said, “I’m ashamed of you.”
Then she paced the floor. “You’ve done something spiteful to stain your cousin’s reputation. Did Etta tell you about her past? Obviously she did, which surprises me, but it is evidence of her trusting nature. She put her faith in you! You, on the other hand, have shown yourself to be untrustworthy. I assume she told you in confidence, and you’ve broken that kind confidence. Her time here was unfolding so well, and now you’ve ruined it. Her reputation will never be the same. Do you comprehend that? I’m sure you do, which makes it all the more shocking that you would make such a poor decision.”
Mother was answering her own questions, so I simply stood and listened, fighting off the smart in my eyes. What my mother said was mostly true. And still her admonishment hurt.
Skirts swishing, she continued: “Grace, I have tried to raise you right. I’ve done all I could in the absence of a husband to help, and now I feel as though you’ve betrayed me as well. I’m truly and deeply disturbed that you would behave in such a way.”
“It was wrong of me.”
She stopped pacing. “So much more than simply wrong. Frankly I’m surprised. I’ve always thought you good-natured at heart, but I’ve been blinded by a mother’s love. Now I learn that you are ill-tempered, inconsiderate, and indiscreet.”
“What I did was out of character.”
“Out of character indeed.” Her face rigid, she demanded, “What else do you have to say for yourself?”
“Only that . . . I’m sorry. I was thoughtless.”
“Not only thoughtless but reckless,” she fumed, “and small. The only explanation for your conduct is vanity and jealousy. Petty, silly, girlish reactions. I had thought you beyond such things, and . . . now . . . you must learn the error of your ways. You will do as I say.”
“I’ll apologize. I’ll make it up to Etta.”
Mother shot me through with her arrow-like eyes. I was made of nothing. Nothing.
“Don’t even dare to believe you would get off that easily. Oh no. I’ve been arranging a much more suitable occupation for you in hopes that it will make you reconsider your ways.”
My heart stopped beating. Suitable occupation?
“You’ll be doing some benevolent work; I’ve arranged this with the help of the church. A minister who has recently arrived in town has been recommended to me. He’s working among the alley dwellers, helping out with various deeds and goods, and you will be sent to act as his assistant and perhaps to work firsthand with some decent poor whites.”
The slightest breeze could’ve blown through me. “The alleys?”
“You heard me correctly.”
“The alleys? Why? B-but they could be dangerous.”
“I’ve been assured that you will be in good hands.”
I inhaled and exhaled deeply in an attempt to
calm a rising panic. “Mother, I understand I’ve committed a grievous mistake. But what you’re doling out is too severe. I will make it up to Etta in my own way. I’ll think of something that will soon result in making my error of little consequence. People will forget about it, and besides, I’ve seen no evidence that anyone holds her past against her. Her invitations are still pouring in.”
“You indeed may make it up, as you say, to Etta. But you will also do this charitable work.”
“May I ask a question?”
“If you must.”
“What am I to do with myself down there?”
“You’ll do as you’re instructed by the Reverend.”
“What will he want me to do? What if it’s something awful?”
Mother clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ve been told he’s a sensible man. I doubt he would ask you to do anything unreasonable.”
A choking sensation was rising in my throat. Feigning contriteness, I said, “May I ask another question, please?”
She nodded curtly once.
“How will my doing what you’ve outlined help Etta?”
“It’s not to help Etta. This service will be for your benefit, Grace.”
Panic and disbelief were crumbling my façade. “Benefit? It’s clearly punishment! I’ve already said I’m sorry.”
“That is simply not enough.”
“My father—he would not have done this to me.”
Her already drawn face fell even more. “Your father was a fine man who would’ve been appalled by you.” She pointed at me with a lace-gloved hand. “You are attempting to change the topic of this conversation, and I’ll not have it. Your punishment is light. I could’ve sent you away for the summer.”
“Now you’re being cruel.”
“How dare you! What you did to Etta was cruel.”
The pulse in her neck was throbbing. She had never been this angry with me before. Trying a different tactic, I said, “What will people say?”
Mother crossed her arms. “You should’ve thought about that before, my dear. After all, you initiated everything that has led to this.”
“I can’t believe it. Listen to reason, Mother. I’ll hold a special party for Etta. I’ll introduce her to more friends. I’ll spend more time with her, grooming her, coaching her.”
“She hardly needs your help.”
That stung hard. “You mustn’t mean all that you say.”
“You would be wise to start believing that I do.”
I had only four days to prepare.
The evening before my sentence began, Jonathan and I took our evening iced tea out on the front portico to escape Mother and Etta, but we found no privacy even there, because nosy strollers couldn’t keep their eyes off me. It was amazing what people thought was their business.
“Dear Grace,” Jonathan said as he lowered his eyes. “You’re to begin tomorrow?”
I gave a nod and gazed out across the esplanade. The sunset was nearly complete, and only a faint orange glow remained in the west. I breathed in the smell of night-blooming jasmine in our gardens.
“There is one advantage,” I said to Jonathan.
“What’s that?”
“At least no one will know me there. I can become invisible for a while.”
He looked my way, and there was sorrow in his eyes. “You’ll never be invisible,” he said, forcing a smile. “You’re too sweet and pretty.”
I couldn’t thank him for the compliment. In fact, I almost winced at his words—they were undeserved. We’d endured a long separation during the previous academic year, which for me had dragged by. I had looked forward to his company for the summer. I had imagined becoming familiar again, but a plot had been hatched against us. First his father demanded his time at the seawall, and now my mother was sending me into the alleys, all of this in addition to my continued concerns that he was a bit charmed by Etta.
Jonathan fidgeted and then said, “May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“Did you accidentally let the information slip about Etta, or was it purposeful?”
I lifted one shoulder. There was no use in hiding anything from Jonathan. “It was purposeful.”
He seemed surprised and even a bit undone. But he gazed straight ahead. “For what reason?”
I sighed. “I was angry at Mother.”
I was used to disappointment from my mother, but Jonathan’s displeasure felt like fire on my skin. “I know,” I said and gulped. “It was vile of me. Why propel my anger toward Mother onto Etta?”
He nodded.
I had to pull in some air. “I know it makes little sense, but that’s what I did.”
He glanced my way. “And I must not have been paying you enough attention.”
I shrugged, although Mother hated it when I did that. “There’s no one to blame but myself.”
“I just never thought you would’ve . . . What I mean to say is . . . you’ve simply never struck me as one who would act maliciously.”
“Maliciously?” That word seemed particularly harsh, but I supposed it was true. “I didn’t think it through at the time. My anger overcame my usual judgment.”
“Were you angry only at your mother?”
“Yes.” Then I rethought my answer. “Etta was garnering so much attention. So perhaps I was a little jealous.”
Jonathan paused. “Thank you for telling me. Anything else?” He looked askance at me.
Now it was my turn to be surprised. He doubted me now. I had thought there wouldn’t be even a moment’s uncertainly between us. “We’re betrothed. I’ll always be truthful to you, Jonathan. That I can always promise.”
He gazed down, studying the polish on his shoes. Finally he said with a loud sigh, “Dear Grace” once again. “It’s sure to be dreadful.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
Chapter Eight
ETTA
Etta heard the news from Dolly. Apparently the circus man gossip had made its way back to Bernadette, including the fact that it had been leaked by Grace, and her aunt therefore had decided on a most stern punishment for her daughter indeed. Grace would be doing work organized by the ministry of the First Methodist Church, the Hilliards’ regular place of worship.
Every conversation between her aunt and her cousin had been relayed among the house servants. But it was never mentioned while Bernadette, Grace, and Etta were together. They all walked around holding close this unspeakable knowledge. Though Etta had once fallen for a circus man, even worse was the fact that Grace had revealed it to all. A few days after the incident at the Three Trees, Grace appeared at the supper table, the skin on her face so pale it appeared bleached, her eyes rimmed with delicate red flesh. She did not eat.
Etta observed this turn of events with silent astonishment. Finally someone had surprised her, truly surprised her. Everyone else on the island gave her the impression of being all too visible, but dimly visible instead of bright, with no unforeseen hidden corners. Grace had revealed herself—most notably, she had exposed her flaws—and Etta could only barely hate her for it. In fact, she thought very little about Grace, especially since she’d been hiding out in her room for most of the past few days. Etta’s attentions had turned elsewhere.
The most remarkable person in Galveston was Etta’s aunt, a lady who obviously maintained a tremendous sense of right and wrong, who meted out punishment even to those she normally protected, who could command the servants with grace and even inspire their dedication, who didn’t succumb to flurrying or flustering or hesitation or feminine spells (except for the occasional melting from the heat), who could organize perfectly tuned events in a number of days, and who seemed elegant and at ease in every situation, much like royalty.
Everywhere in the house Etta stole glimpses of Bernadette, who was often found standing perfectly still on the landing of the main staircase and listening for anything out of order, or perusing the glass doors of the china cabinets for smudges, or checkin
g the polish on the floors. Her presence was powerful and dominant, but she never left a lip print on a piece of crystal or a fingerprint on the furniture.
When Grace disappeared the next day to begin her penance in the alleys, Bernadette took Etta shopping on Mechanic Street for Etta’s winter wardrobe. They selected new fabric for the tailor, along with various hats, adornments, and accessories, and Etta found her aunt’s taste much as she had expected it to be—immaculate, understated for the most part, but with touches here and there of things that might seem a bit daring. Bernadette referred to the male shopkeepers as “dear lambs,” the females who helped them as “sweet dolls.” They smiled and blushed in return. Clearly they adored her.
As they scrutinized the goods, Bernadette would make comments to Etta, such as “You could get away with this color,” or “I’d like to see you in this.” Once her aunt told her “You have an untouchable beauty,” and Etta didn’t know whether this was a compliment or not.
Bernadette never asked the price of anything, and once, when she pointed out a sapphire silk woven with gold flowers and insisted that Etta look it over, Etta lowered her voice and said, “It’s lovely, but . . .”
“But what?” her aunt insisted.
Etta regretted the momentary slip, the obvious reminder that she wasn’t like them here. Not only was she of a different class and status, a silent pain still ravaged her, too. She had successfully hidden all evidence of her wretched, fractured heart thus far. No one could know that when she thought of Philo—a poor man so very far removed from this life—her eyes and throat and even her lips ached.
“Go on,” said her aunt.
“Isn’t it costly?”
Her aunt harrumphed and straightened. “Living is costly. At the very least, we should be able to go through it in style.”
Etta couldn’t have said it better herself.
In the end, the disclosure about Etta’s tainted past did little to harm her. In fact, Grace’s punishment seemed, in retrospect, much too severe and uncalled for, although Etta would never say such a thing. It wasn’t her place to do so. In fact, she and her aunt never discussed the subject, and the matter ended up having the most remarkable effect. Among the crowd that Grace favored, the rumors only enhanced Etta’s already expanding intrigue and appeal, and her circle of friends grew.
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