Lilly’s eyes widened, but she quickly recovered with a polite nod, her social mask securely in place. “Oh dear, I did forget. In my haste to get away from the crowd, I forgot all about Mrs. Price’s novel.” Then her taut shoulders relaxed. “Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness, Jack. I’m sure Irene will enjoy the book.”
“No doubt.” If Irene didn’t care for Mrs. Price ’s story, Jack knew the servants would. “But won’t Irene be shocked you ventured down to Thames Street on your own and mingled among the townspeople?”
Lilly blanched. “Yes, she might, though knowing my sister-in-law, I’m sure she ’ll be amazed I had the gumption to go by myself. She thinks I’m afraid of my own shadow—or at least, of Mama’s disapproval—which, of course I am, most of the time.” Her mouth curved in a wry smile.
Others might consider Lilly timid, but Jack felt sure beneath her shy exterior lay a woman with a steel backbone. A lady strong enough to write a book her family and friends would disparage . . . Jack considered this a most interesting possibility.
AVOIDING JACK WASN'T as easy as Lilly hoped. Even in a “cottage” with twenty-two spacious rooms, she seemed to bump into him every time she turned around, unless she hid in her bedroom. He began to shadow her, obviously hoping to change her mind about helping him locate his authoress. Lilly sighed. Annie brushed Lilly’s thick hair in preparation for the evening’s frivolity at the van Patten’s, then secured it with silver combs.
This was one of the many social functions Mama insisted she attend. In the spring when Harlan had first introduced the family to the upper echelons of society—truly the most elite—Lilly had enjoyed the novelty of extravagant balls and dinners along with her family, but as the round of entertainment pressed on night after night, she ’d grown weary. With less time and energy for writing, she knew she was beginning to fail at the one important task God had given her.
Lilly bowed her head while Annie, her maid, clasped a double string of pearls around her neck.
“You look lovely, miss.”
Lilly examined her reflection in the dressing table mirror and found it wanting. She ’d thought the yellow silk with lace overskirt suited her well enough when she’d chosen the fabric two summers before. Now it appeared not only outdated, but wrong for her pale complexion. Too fussy with too many bows, the frock would better suit an eighteen-year-old experiencing the last days of girlhood. She sighed. Nothing could be done about it now.
Only four other ball gowns filled her wardrobe and she’d worn them all this season. If she ’d accepted Mama’s earlier offer for a few more frocks, she could have replaced this with one simpler and more elegant. But she hadn’t cared for fancy dresses even a little bit until Harlan began to court her. And she hadn’t anticipated so many dinners and dances that required an extensive and fashionable wardrobe.
Mama, seated beside her on the slipper chair, patted Lilly’s long white glove. “Don’t fret, my dear. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
She smiled, embarrassed at the compliment. “Thank you, but I’m not so sure.”
As soon as Annie withdrew to Lilly’s dressing room, Mama tilted forward. Her round eyes grew even rounder. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but did Jackson go to the city after you? You left to help at the Settlement House, and next thing I know, he’s off as well.”
“No, Mama. He merely needed to be in New York at the same time. It was a coincidence that his purchase of Jones and Jarman happened at the same time.”
Her mother studied her intently for a moment, then sniffed and adjusted a lock of Lilly’s hair. “Years ago when you were young, I was convinced he was smitten—that is, until he suddenly left. You never told me exactly what happened.”
Lilly adjusted a few strands of her hair, avoiding Mama’s probing gaze. “It wasn’t just you, so don’t feel slighted. Besides, whatever was between us is long over.”
“Oh Lilly, why are you so secretive about everything? We ’re mother and daughter, we should share intimacies.”
“Perhaps, but there ’s little to share about Jackson Grail.” She trusted Mama but still knew she tended to chatter too freely with her friends.
Mama’s eyes sharpened. “You’re not going to cast aside Harlan for Jackson, are you? He certainly doesn’t have the same entree into the best society that Harlan has.”
“I understand that.” Lilly gave her mother a small but reassuring smile. If she mentioned she wasn’t interested in society, Mama would get upset and try to change her mind.
Her mother rose and with a sigh of resignation glided toward the door. “I must go. Do enjoy the ball.”
Lilly gathered up her reticule and fan, and then made her way to the foyer to wait for the coachmen to bring around the carriage. The grandfather clock struck ten. No one in the family had appeared yet, so she wandered off to the library, where she met her father. He spent much of his time perusing the classics along with current mystery novels and, against doctor’s orders, puffing on his pipe. The sweet aroma of expensive tobacco greeted her as she entered the room.
A wisp of white gossamer hair stood straight up on his shiny scalp. The once formidable tycoon looked old and shapeless, though his suit was perfectly tailored, as always. He slouched in his favorite leather chair, worn and crinkled like Papa himself.
“Off to the ball, my dear?” Cast in the shadows of the gaslight, his face looked mellow but his eyes glistened, as observant as ever.
Lilly’s spirits lifted. After suffering several asthma attacks during the spring, Papa’s fragile health worried her though he claimed the sea air cleared his lungs. “We ’re all going, except for Mama, of course.”
“She’s not very interested in dancing. Never has been. That’s fine with me.” Papa leaned forward. “Lilly, I don’t catch many opportunities to speak to you these days. I’m glad you’re enjoying Newport and keeping company with Harlan. He’s a responsible man, and he’ll provide handsomely for you and my future grandchildren. Now don’t go and blush.” His soft chuckle changed into a cough from the curls of smoke wrapped around his head. “It’s just a matter of time before he asks me for your hand. Shall I agree to his offer? Eh, my dear?”
She couldn’t deny Harlan seemed serious about marriage. Hints dropped from time to time had developed into pointed remarks about joining their lives together. Few gentlemen had shown an interest since her breakup with Jack, though admittedly she’d kept every potential husband at bay until Harlan appeared. She hoped that too many years without a real suitor hadn’t made her unduly susceptible to Harlan, the first appealing man who’d come along in years.
“Harlan is kind and generous. I could do worse.”
Papa nodded vigorously. His lips curved into a smile. “Yes, indeed. And he ’s giving you and George and Irene an opportunity to meet some of the finest and most influential people in town. They seem very pleased.” He took another puff and then groaned with apparent regret. “Your mother and I should have mingled more in society, but we really didn’t have the means keep up with the nouveau riche. It’s expensive to entertain on such an outlandish scale. Why I heard the costume ball the Bradley Martins held back in ’97 cost them hundreds of thousands.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “We couldn’t compete with that kind of extravagance. But it would’ve been an advantage to you and George if we’d gotten out a little more.”
Lilly kissed him on the forehead. “Oh Papa, you never deprived us of anything. You certainly gave me all I ever wanted.”
He smiled. “Thank you for saying that, but I’m not so convinced George—and Irene—would agree with you.” He reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze.
“Yes, they would. Now put out that pipe before Mama catches you.”
He slowly removed the offending object from his mouth, but she knew the moment she left, he ’d start smoking again.
“Is there anything I can get for you before I go?”
“No thank you, Lilly. I’m just fine. Now run along and have
a wonderful time with your young man.”
She nodded. Without Harlan, her family would’ve received only a handful of invitations over the summer from their stuffy, tradition-bound set and no invitations from society’s top drawer. But now even Mama was caught up the whirlwind of constant entertainment, though she joined in the society’s amusements with more reticence and less frequency than George and Irene.
Yet, was thankfulness to Harlan a firm enough foundation for a successful marriage? It certainly seemed to be for many in her clique. But was it sufficient for her?
VANESSA WESTBROOK STROLLED into the library as her daughter departed in a swirl of lace and jasmine scent. Most becoming. No wonder George ’s old friend Jack seemed as taken with Lilly as Harlan was. Vanessa approached her husband, waving away a fog of aromatic pipe smoke that she secretly loved to inhale. Settling into the wing chair beside Thomas, her feet poked out beneath her beige silk frock and dangled a few inches above the oak floor. She frowned at the pipe resting conspicuously on the ashtray but refused to say a word. Thomas knew her opinion on smoking and asthma and never appreciated a reminder.
Grasping her hands as if to ward off any approaching lecture, he asked, “So, Nessie, are you enjoying your summer in Newport?”
“Yes, indeed. Newport society is a little too rich for my blood, but the sea air is delightful and doing us all a world of good. How’s your breathing?”
Thomas drew in a mouthful of air, released it, and then repeated the process. “My old lungs are pumping just fine.”
She slipped her hands from his gentle grasp. “Good. If your health is improving, then our season is a success.” Vanessa nodded with relief. “The children are having a grand time too. At least George and Irene are taking every opportunity to enjoy themselves.”
Thomas quirked a brow. “But not Lilly?”
“Hmm.” Vanessa’s fingernails clicked against the marble end table. “She ’s come out of her shell since Harlan started courting her. So much of her shyness and self-restraint have disappeared this summer. But after Jackson arrived, she withdrew again.”
“It could be a coincidence.”
“Perhaps, but I wonder.” Should she confide in Thomas when he’d most likely dismiss her fears? Always the optimist, his disagreement with her observations often led to little spats about the children. “I worry she may be falling for Jackson once again.”
“What? How can you think that, Nessie? Lilly is a serious, devoted girl. She ’d never throw off Harlan for an old beau. Or was Jackson just an old friend? I never knew.”
Vanessa sent him a dry smile which he disregarded. Thomas seldom noticed the subtleties of emotion. “She’s certainly been distressed lately. But if it’s not about Harlan, then what could be wrong?”
“Nothing, dear Nessie, not a thing.” Thomas combed his fingers through his patch of hair. “You worry too much.”
“How can a mother worry ‘too much’? They’re our children and our responsibility.”
“They’re both adults. Lilly is practically an—”
Old maid. Neither of them wanted to say it. “Exactly.” Vanessa agreed. “That’s why I’m so concerned about her future.”
“Lilly can take care of herself. She doesn’t need our interference.”
Vanessa grumbled, “I’m afraid she really does need our advice.”
After thirty-one years of marriage, she realized Thomas purposely ignored any family dissension by pretending she exaggerated. He’d never admit Lilly and Harlan’s relationship might be at risk because of Jackson Grail. She ’d have to mend any fissures on her own, just as she ’d always done.
“Thomas, it’s getting late and I’m going off to bed.”
“I’ll be up in a few minutes after I finish one more chapter in this mystery novel. Crackling good plot. Do you mind?” He propped his book on his paunchy stomach.
“Not at all.”
Vanessa strode through the empty hallway, up the stairs and down the corridor toward the bedroom she shared with Thomas. Low gaslight cast deep shadows across the paintings that lined the papered walls. No sound disturbed the hush of the night. The servants were off duty, except for her maid and Thomas’s valet, so she had most of the rambling old house to herself.
After passing Lilly’s bedroom, Vanessa paused. Did she dare turn the doorknob and intrude upon Lilly’s sanctuary? For several seconds she stared at the closed door. No one would ever know if she slipped into her daughter’s room. After all, Summerhill was her temporary home. Didn’t she have the right to enter any space she pleased? Buoyed by her reasoning, Vanessa gripped the glass knob and twisted it. She pushed the door. It opened easily.
Stepping inside, her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She gulped in fresh sea air blowing through the screens. At first she thought of shutting the windows so Lilly could return to a warm, comfortable room. But if she did, her daughter would know someone had invaded her privacy. Better to leave well enough alone.
Vanessa’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Vague forms sharpened to pieces of familiar furniture. She reached into the drawer of Lilly’s night table for matches. With trembling hands, she lit the kerosene lamp. The light banished the eeriness and eased her fears.
As she expected, Annie kept all of Lilly’s belongings in perfect order. Where should she search for a clue to Lilly’s puzzling behavior? Intuition whispered it must be more than Jack’s sudden visit that sent Lilly to her bedroom on every possible pretext. She seemed so distracted lately, definitely not herself. Vanessa yearned to help, but how could she unless she discovered the cause of her daughter’s peculiar moods?
Vanessa riffled through the chiffonier scented with floral sachet. In the wardrobe, she searched the gowns, hats, and accessories but found nothing unusual. Disappointed, her curiosity ebbed. She rolled back the cover of the desk and peeked through the cubbyholes, the last possible place to look. She still wasn’t quite sure what she was looking for.
Pens, a bottle of black ink, stationery, and several envelopes caught her eye. The return addresses identified an assortment of Lilly’s former school chums who had married and moved away from New York. Tempted to pull out the letters and read them, she hesitated only a moment before moving on.
Yanking on the center drawer, she was surprised it didn’t budge. Locked. Could Lilly have hidden something important inside?
She opened the lid of a small keepsake box resting on the desk. Guilt mingled with a mother’s instinct to help her daughter. Shutting her eyes, she tried to quell her conscience. But her hand continued to touch the mostly inexpensive objects—a scalloped seashell, an unframed photo of Harlan and Lilly taken with George ’s box camera, a silver cross on a chain. Just personal paraphernalia. She ran her fingers along the velvet lining, ready to give up and snap the cover down. But a lump beneath the bottom sent a shiver of hope through her. She pulled out a key.
Vanessa’s hand shook as she slipped it into the desk lock. A quick turn and the drawer released. Her hand grasped the pull. One jerk of the handle and she ’d learn whatever Lilly had concealed inside. Gingerly, she gave a tug.
What if Lilly found out? She would never condone prying, even for her own sake. Discovery would prompt an irreparable rift between them. Vanessa knew she couldn’t withstand the humiliation of being labeled a snoop by her family. She slammed the drawer shut, locked it, and returned the key. Quickly extinguishing the lamp, she flew toward her own bedroom as if the devil himself were on her heels.
Half an hour later when Thomas arrived, Vanessa still tossed and turned in bed, unable to stop her ruminations.
“Can’t sleep, Nessie?” With a soft groan, he lowered his bulk onto the feather mattress. “Ah, this feels good.” Propped up with pillows, he turned a sharp eye toward Vanessa. “You aren’t worried about the children again, are you?”
Denial lay on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t fib. “You know I am. I’ve always fretted over them and I probably will until the day I meet my maker.” V
anessa squeezed his wrinkled hand. “You can’t expect me to act otherwise.”
Thomas heaved a weary sigh. “Oh, Nessie, I know it’s your nature to cluck at your chicks.”
“But what? You haven’t finished your thought.”
“You know me too well. Our children need to spread their wings and fly.” He grinned, obviously pleased with his own metaphor.
“You dare not say I’m an old hen who dreads an empty nest.”
She pretended to elbow him. He squirmed away, chuckling.
“I wouldn’t dare, Nessie. But if you henpeck them, they won’t thank you for it.”
Thomas leaned over and gently kissed her on her lips with the lightness of butterfly wings. “Good night, my love.”
He was right, as usual. Yet, she couldn’t stay quiet when she saw her children careening down the wrong path.
If they’d only confide in her and accept her advice, their lives would run more smoothly. She saw no need for any of them to make mistakes they could easily avoid. Unfortunately, they rarely sought her counsel.
TEN
Miranda declined the invitation to the ball, claiming fatigue. But Lilly knew how her friend disliked ostentation. Lilly envied her. She too would’ve preferred reading a novel or writing her own. But of course Mama wouldn’t hear of it.
The Westbrook party arrived fashionably late at Ocean Vista, a limestone “cottage” designed to resemble a scaled-down French chateau. Light from crystal chandeliers blazed through the French doors and curved Palladian windows, revealing a crowd of dancers swirling to the distant strains of the Grand March.
As Lilly emerged from the family carriage, a liveried footman opened the massive front doors to expose the foyer of one of Newport’s most celebrated mansions. She gasped at the wide staircase carved in stone and carpeted in red. A fountain, centered in the squares of the black and white marble floor, cascaded like a miniature waterfall.
“My, this is magnificent.” She stared at the crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling and the antique furniture that must have come from a European castle.
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