“I went up there,” she said. “I heard barking and when I saw her shepherd dog and the puppies I went up to the house and asked for one. So I have my Christmas present for Jemmy.”
Adam whistled a single long note. “Serena will love this. What do you think of Morgan?”
“I’m not sure,” Lora said. It was a relief to be talking about her adventure, if only to Adam Hume. “She is very—dramatic. She seems to have a great deal of nervous drive. But she was nice to me when I asked for the puppy.”
Adam reined the horse to one side of the road to make way for a buggy that wanted to pass, and he did not speak until they were plodding along again.
“It might be a good idea to remember that Morgan has never been known to serve any ends but her own. If she wants to make friends with you, then it is for some personal reason. It’s just as well not to trust her.”
She was inclined to agree with him, but because she so frequently prickled with resentment at his words, she could not wholly accept them now.
“You distrust nearly everyone, don’t you?” she said.
He grinned at her, leaning to peer into her face around the rim of her bonnet. “That is indeed the case, my dear Mrs. Tyler. What else did you and Morgan talk about when you’d disposed of the puppy?”
It was none of his business, but there were more questions she wanted to ask. “We spoke of the war. Of whether there was any way to stop it before more lives are wasted. Do you think there is any way?”
“Of course there’s a way. By winning it as quickly as possible. But since Fredericksburg victory hardly seems imminent.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean by more fighting. I mean by some peaceful way.”
One wheel sank into a deep rut and she was flung momentarily against him. He put but an arm to steady her, but there was no gentleness in his touch.
“Just what peaceful way would you suggest?”
“I don’t know. Aren’t there those here in the North who are against the war and want to see it stopped? Those, perhaps, with power, with political influence?”
“Is this some notion Morgan Channing has put into your head?”
Morgan’s words had seemed innocent enough at the time. Lora had no wish to involve her.
“It’s something my father and I talked about often,” she told him truthfully. “He believed the war could have been avoided. He still felt it ought to be stopped.”
“Perhaps it could have been avoided if there had not been so many fools in high places. Fools and weaklings. I don’t mean Lincoln, though I think he waited too long to act. But hindsight is always easier than foresight. It might have been avoided, but it cannot be stopped. Not without victory—and that means for the Union.”
“The South is very brave,” Lora said. “Her men are great fighters and—”
“The South is like a small boy grown too big for his breeches.” Adam surprised the horse with a stinging flap of the reins. “Do you think I didn’t hear the bragging during the time I was in Libby? The South has neither the men nor the strength nor the wealth to beat us in the long run. But I’ll tell you what the South does have that the North lacks frighteningly. She has the will to win. And that’s enough to make any intelligent Union man stay awake at night.”
“Here’s Bay Street!” cried Temple from the bed of the wagon, and all three boys stood up to look at the cluster of buildings, the banks and stores along the busy thoroughfare.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Lora said.
“For a handful of months the North was fighting mad,” Adam said. “Then she cooled off and lost interest. Her heart isn’t in this fight. She hasn’t anything concrete to fight for the way the South has. Your Southern soldier is in there to save home, mother and sweetheart—he thinks—to say nothing of preserving his sentimental ideals about the section he regards as his country. But war has scarcely touched the people up here.”
“It has touched Wade,” Lora said.
“Yes, the fighting men. But the rest have never been roused. The North mouths platitudes about saving the Union, but there’s no real heart in it right now. What’s more, knowing Wade, I doubt that even a spell of fighting turned him into a supporter of this war.”
“I’m glad it didn’t!” Lora said hotly. “I wouldn’t want him to be like—like—”
“Like me?” Adam laughed out loud so that Eddie and Temple leaned against the front seat and demanded to know what was funny.
He did not answer them, but pointed ahead. “There are your Christmas trees. The custom is catching on so that we need not go out and pick them in the woods as we did when I was a boy.”
There was traffic along Bay Street, drays and carriages, an occasional officer on horseback, privates on foot. Beyond lay the bay, a murky steel color this morning and choppy with whitecaps. Adam drew up to a hitching post and jumped down from the seat. The boys clambered out at once, Jemmy as eager and excited as the Lord boys, the Airedale leaping after them. Lora gathered up her skirts and reached one foot toward the step. But Adam came around and put his hands at her waist, swung her boldly down. She walked quickly away from him, following Jemmy toward stacked trees which stood outside the store.
Eddie and Temple were interested mainly in size. They wanted the biggest tree on Staten Island. But Jemmy was more particular. He must study each one from every angle, examining it for symmetry and beauty of structure. He was difficult to please and took quite a while. Lora tried to help sympathetically and was grateful for Adam’s patience and the fact that he did not tease Jemmy because of his search for perfection, as he did Temple and Eddie about their desire for size. The sense of Christmas excitement increased and even Adam lost his cynical air and became companionable and almost boyish.
When both trees had been selected and stacked in the back of the wagon, with their tops hanging out over the road, the boys wedged themselves, squealing, among prickly branches. Adam pointed out the variety store across the road and, somewhat to Lora’s embarrassment, accompanied her, watching with frank interest as she made her purchases of velvet and lace.
“I’m making a dress for Mrs. Lord’s party,” Lora explained as the salesgirl wrapped up her packages.
“Then I’ll see you there,” said Adam. “I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d attend. But now I may—that is, if you will promise me a dance.”
“I shan’t be dancing with anyone,” she told him. “Wade won’t be able to dance because of his leg and I shall stay beside him.”
“You mean he’ll keep you from dancing just because—”
“It is a suggestion I made myself,” Lora said.
“And he accepted such a sacrifice? Well, it’s a pity. I learned to waltz most gracefully in Libby.” He was silent while she purchased candles for the tree.
When they left the store and crossed the road to the wagon, Lora pulled herself up quickly without touching his hand.
After they were settled for the ride home, he went on talking about the party.
“There’ll be too many people there, of course. My sister’s friends are legion. What’s worse, she has no discrimination, but likes everyone. And Edgar encourages her.”
A mingling of anticipation and uneasiness went through Lora. She had been to no parties such as this was likely to be, and the prospect was beginning to dismay her a little.
“I’m not sure I will fit in,” she said half to herself, expecting no sympathy from Adam Hume.
But he looked at her more kindly. “Why not? You’ve only to be yourself. And of course curb your tongue a bit. You can’t go asking startling questions or speaking out your mind the way you’ve been doing this morning.”
“That is only with you,” she told him. “Because you say what you think more than other people do.”
His laughter had a pleased note in it, as if she had complimented him. For the most part they were silent on the way home and Lora began to regret the end of the trip. It had been more fun than
she’d expected, considering that Adam had been her companion. Even while he irritated her, his directness was a relief after the devious ways of Mother Tyler and Wade’s evasiveness. Now she remembered with increasing uncertainty that Wade had watched from the library window and had not returned her wave. At the time she had been intent on proving that she could be herself, but now the tree had been purchased and she was probably going to be treated like a child again—a child who must be scolded and sent to bed. This routine couldn’t go on forever. Complete docility was not for her and never would be.
As they reached the gate to the Tyler drive, she looked back to see Jemmy squirm out of his nesting place among pine boughs and scramble to the ground.
“I’ll get Peter,” he called to her, and vanished toward the rear of the house.
This time Lora slipped quickly down from the wagon seat without waiting for Adam’s assistance and was aware of his amused look. The library window was empty now, but she meant to give Wade no additional reason to object to her conduct.
Peter came out to carry Jemmy’s tree around to the back of the house. Unlike Ellie, he seemed to be enjoying the prospect of Christmas.
“Thank you, Mr. Hume,” said Lora formally, and Adam saluted her with the whip.
“You are welcome, Mrs. Tyler,” he said with equal formality and urged the horse into a trot for home.
She gave the wagon no second glance, but followed the course of the tree around the house. Jemmy was chattering excitedly to Peter, pointing out the singular excellences of his choice. When Lora glanced up at the windows of Mrs. Tyler’s sitting room, she saw the old lady there in her wheel chair, disapproval set in every line of her person. When she caught Lora’s eye, she tapped on the window and beckoned to her to come inside at once.
Jemmy saw his grandmother and turned away from the tree, concerned for Lora. “Are you afraid?” he asked.
She touched his shoulder lightly. “Of course not. Your grandmother’s not a dragon, you know. Someday I may need a knight in armor. But not right now. I’ll run inside and see what she wants.”
Jemmy returned her smile doubtfully and threw an anxious look in the direction of his grandmother. “Anyway, she can’t say no about the tree now.”
“She won’t even try,” Lora assured him, and went into the house.
She wished she might feel as brave inside as her words to Jemmy pretended. But she couldn’t help the way her spirits dropped at the prospect of being summoned once again as a culprit before the judge’s bench. There was no wrongdoing behind her, but her very youth seemed a handicap in the face of Mrs. Tyler’s age and assurance. She might be as determined as the old lady, Lora thought, but it was hard to be as sure that she was right.
X
Amanda Tyler sat alone in her parlor and Lora was relieved to find Wade absent. It would be easier to face his mother and speak for herself if he were not there to be considered.
“Adam Hume helped us to get Jemmy’s Christmas tree,” she said cheerfully as she closed the door behind her.
“So I understand. Will you assist me into my chair by the fire, please?”
Lora supported her in the few steps to the chair. When the old lady was settled, Lora took the small chair opposite and began to poke up the fire. The gesture was more to give her something to do than because the fire needed attention.
“Listen to me,” said the old woman, and there was so stern a note in her voice that Lora looked up, the poker still in her hand. “Mrs. Wade Tyler does not demean herself by riding on the seat of a farm wagon. Nor does she arouse gossip by indulging in such indignities in the company of a man who is not her husband.”
Lora set the poker down carefully so that it would make no clatter upon the hearth. “I have ridden in farm wagons all my life and I see no harm in it. As for being in Mr. Hume’s company—is he not an old friend of the family? And we were hardly alone with the three boys along.”
In spite of herself, a note of appeasement had come into her voice. If she could just make Wade’s mother understand her innocence of intention.
“There will be no argument,” said Mrs. Tyler. “You have behaved disgracefully and there is no possible excuse. We expect you to learn the proper conduct for a lady in your position as my son’s wife, no matter how difficult that may be.”
Lora sat back in her chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap so they would not tremble. Once more Mrs. Tyler was making her feel utterly young and futile and helpless.
“I want very much to please you and Wade,” she said, hating the faint quaver that entered her voice. “But I cannot feel shame and guilt when I’ve done nothing shameful, nothing to feel guilty about.”
Mrs. Tyler’s gaze brightened with anger and she made no attempt to conceal her own feelings. “It does you no credit that you do not feel shame.”
She might as well have everything out at once, Lora thought. “There is something else you ought to know. Yesterday afternoon I had tea with Mrs. Channing.”
For once the old lady seemed momentarily at a loss for words. Then she rallied to the attack. “Does Wade know this?”
“No, Mother Tyler,” Lora said. “I have not told him because I felt it might upset him. Of course he must know eventually. I have no desire to deceive him. But I don’t feel that I must carry on a feud with which I’ve had nothing to do.”
“Are you aware,” Mrs. Tyler asked, “that this woman upon whom you have so foolishily called is the daughter of former servants of mine? Her high and mighty ways are scarcely due to birth. And of course she has no breeding.”
“She was very pleasant. I don’t see that her station at birth is of any consequence. After all, she is the sister of Wade’s first wife—though this is something I would not have known if she hadn’t told me.”
The old woman sat very still and grim, her beringed hands gripping the arms of her chair. She looked into the fire, studying the flames as if she saw some vision there. For so long a while was she still that Lora began to feel uneasy.
“I’m sorry to have upset you,” she said gently.
It was as though Mrs. Tyler did not hear her words. Her whole attention remained fixed upon the flickering orange tongues in the fireplace and she did not glance at Lora as she began to speak.
“Perhaps it will be better if you learn a little family history,” Mrs. Tyler said. “These are not things one discusses by choice with an—outsider.” She paused again, lost in thought.
“I am Wade’s wife,” Lora said in a low tone.
“You are still an outsider in this house,” Mrs. Tyler went on. “A stranger. You have not even begun to integrate yourself with our manner of life. It even seems to me that you are a stranger to my son. I do not know what reason drove you into marriage with him, but I think it was not love.”
Lora sat very still. She had not expected this perceptive turn of mind in Wade’s mother. But she had no secret to conceal. Wade knew about Martin. In the moments when he was completely honest he knew this had been a marriage of two lonely people who needed something to cling to. But it was impossible to explain this to Wade’s mother.
Mrs. Tyler continued, her tone steady and cold, “I will now tell you a certain truth you should know before you make friends with the woman who lives in that monstrous house up the hill. From the time Morgan Ambrose grew into adolescence everyone knew that she had set her cap shamelessly for Wade. It was quite plain that she meant to have him at all costs. If I had not … prevented it … he might well have married her.”
Somehow this “truth” which Mrs. Tyler seemed to think so important did not particularly shock or disturb Lora. After all, with Wade’s charm, why shouldn’t a girl like Morgan have been attracted to him? But that was all so long ago. Why should it matter now, or be considered a reason for carrying on a feud? She went on to a point which interested her more.
“Did you object to his marrying Virginia?”
There was a suddenly bleak note in Mrs. Tyler’s voice, but a little
to Lora’s surprise she answered the question quickly and with a ring of honesty.
“I did not see that coming,” she confessed. “The danger from Morgan seemed so much more imminent that I did not expect such a rebound.”
“But since Virginia was the sort to make Wade a good wife, why should you have minded?”
Mrs. Tyler sat a notch more proudly in her chair. “It was hardly fitting for Jason Cowles’s grandson to marry a servant girl. The shock for me was very great.”
Lora felt a flash of pity for the girl Virginia. She was beginning to feel that she knew Virginia rather well.
“At least her marriage could not have been as bad for you as if he had brought Morgan here,” Lora said dryly.
The old lady made a gesture of repudiation and the gems in her rings sparkled fiercely in the firelight. “I saw to it that he would not bring her here. But I realize that you have not the gentle upbringing to understand such matters. It is, I suppose, not your fault.”
“That may be quite true,” Lora admitted, though she felt that there had been nothing wrong with her upbringing. “But this is all so much water under a long-ago bridge. None of it matters now.”
“You think it does not matter that Morgan has never in her life given up the pursuit of something she wanted?”
“I don’t believe she wants Wade,” Lora said stoutly. “It seemed to me that she does not even like him very well. What happened to make him give an order forbidding all of you to have anything to do with Mrs. Channing’s household?”
“My son does not give orders in this house,” Mrs. Tyler said tartly. “He merely made a request. Since he did not choose to explain his reasons, I did not question him. But tell me—if you do not think these past events important, what do you consider important?”
Lora had no need to hesitate. “Wade’s happiness is important. I want to see him well and strong again, in spirit as well as in body. And I want very much to see Jemmy as happy as any other small boy. I want to see him free of the bad dreams that seem to haunt him. I want these things so much that I will even go now and tell Wade that I am sorry about riding in the wagon with the boys. I will say I am sorry, even though I have no feeling of wrong-doing. I am truly sorry if I have displeased him.”
The Quicksilver Pool Page 11