Mirror Bride

by Jane Peart

  "Yes, they've just arrived."

  "Auntie Blythe is in seventh heaven now that all her chicks are home to roost . . . at least for a while. She has all sorts of things planned and, of course, the annual Open House. You'll be coming, won't you, you and Davida?"

  "I plan to, that is if Davida—" He paused. "Davida hasn't been very well. She's been worried about her father, Colonel Carpenter. He's getting on in years, you see, and she hates the idea of his being alone for the holidays. I urged her to invite him to spend Christmas here in Virginia with us, even offered to go to Massachusetts and travel down with him. But she says i's t oo much to ask him to make such a long trip at his age—" Jonathan's explanation revealed his frustration, the residue of many discussions he and Davida had had on the matter. He was grateful when the door opened and a tea trolley was wheeled into the room, bringing the subject to a close.

  As Faith lifted the round teapot to pour, Jonathan noticed the unusual ring she was wearing—a large amethyst in a gold setting of two clasped hands beneath a crown. With a start of recognition, Jonathan identified it as the same ring painted on the third finger, left hand, in the portrait of Noramary Marsh, the first Bride of Montclair, hanging on the stair wall in the front hall. How, he wondered, did Faith come to be wearing it?

  "See this?" Her voice interrupted his conjecture. He nodded, thinking she meant the ring, wondering if she had seen his glance, read his thoughts? But he soon realized that she was referring to the cup she was holding.

  "Aren't these exquisite? Auntie Blythe painted them. She's quite an accomplished china artist. She did quite a lot of it when Jeff was a little boy, but she's given it up now. Says it used to fill the empty hours for her when he was away at school and she was alone. I guess now that she's so happily married, she never lacks for interesting diversions to fill her t i m e " Faith smiled and handed Jonathan the fragile teacup delicately hand-painted with pansies. "But it's clear to see where Jeff gets his talent, isn't it?"

  To cover his own mental wanderings, Jonathan asked, "What is Jeff working on at the moment?"

  "Well, it's a secret." She looked apologetic. "Although I don't see why I shouldn't tell you After all, you are Jeff's brother and are as interested as anyone could be in his success. But artists tend to be superstitious about their work, you know. And this is quite an enormous undertaking, a kind of inspired theme. Jeff hopes to place it in the Waverly Exhibit next spring if it's finished by then. The Waverly Galleries gave him his start, you may recall, and Jeff's loyalties are long and deep."

  Jonathan held up his hand to stop her. "Don't tell me, Faith. I wouldn't have you betray his confidence."

  She dimpled. "Or change his luck?" She sipped her tea, then put the cup down on the tray and offered him a plate of currant scones. "However, I think Jeff's success has been more than luck. He is extremely gifted, wouldn't you agree? Of course, I may be prejudiced—" She lowered her voice. "But I really believe this is going to be his masterpiece." She laughed, her sudden seriousness past. "And of course, I'd think so because I'm in it! Talk about being self-serving!"

  Jonathan joined heartily in her spontaneous laughter. Just about then they heard the sound of scuffling, of giggles and childish voices outside the door, and Faith gave Jonathan a conspiratorial wink. "Are you ready for the onslaught?"

  The words were scarcely out of her mouth before the door burst open and three little bodies came hurtling into the room. They ran non-stop until they tumbled pell-mell into Faith's lap.

  Jonathan watched, fascinated, as she took them one by one, kissing and hugging them, tickling and ruffling the assorted curly heads. What beautiful children they were! He had often seen them on Jeff's canvases depicting cherubs or elfin woodland creatures or little royals in his illustrative paintings of courts and castles, his favorite medieval themes. In the rosy flesh, they were even more appealing—luscious skin tones, lustrous hair, shining, dark-lashed eyes.

  An hour later, riding back to Montclair, Jonathan felt a certain heaviness of spirit. He had not seen his brother, but he had seen and experienced the loving circle in which Jeff's art was created and flourished. And in that, Jonathan had realized in some subtle way the emptiness and grayness of his own life.

  As he turned onto the road leading from Mayfield toward home, a girl on horseback sped by, rider's hair and horse's mane flying like flaming silken banners. As she went by, she raised her riding crop, but the greeting she called was lost in the wind.

  He knew it was one of the Cameron twins, most likely Cara—the one his son was infatuated with, the one who most probably would become his daughter-in-law someday. But what was she doing so far from Mayfield on the road to Arbordale this late in the day?

  The small, gray church came in sight and, bending her head against the sharp wind, Cara hurried forward. It seemed an appropriate place to meet, ironic even, she might say. But Cara's heart was beating wildly. If he hadn't wanted to come, why would he have agreed?

  She felt a little guilty that she had told her mother she was going to help decorate the Mayfield church for the Christmas services, using it as the excuse to be away all afternoon. Her sense of guilt was heightened when her mother had been so pleased that she would volunteer for such a good cause. Then there had been that dreadful moment when Kitty had almost offered to come along until she remembered that she had promised Meredith to help with some last-minute shopping for Mrs. Montrose.

  Cara hoped she wouldn't be caught in her fib, hoped no one in the Ladies Guild would run into her mother and mention that there had been no representative from Cameron Hall to help with the decorations. She hated having so easily deceived her mother and murmured a quick prayer of repentance, knowing it was not enough. It is so easy to deceive someone who trusts you, she thought.

  Pushing through the heavy church door, she went inside the dimly lit interior. Instantly she felt its stillness and realized that it was empty. Where was he? Why hadn't he come? If she had to wait too long, there would be other explanations to make. The late December day was chilly and, inside the unheated church, Cara shivered. She rubbed her bare hands together and turned up the collar of her jacket. Had he forgotten? Or worse still, decided not to come?

  Just when her hope and anxiety had almost peaked, she heard the leather-padded back door of the sanctuary open with a swooshing sound. She turned to see a tall figure striding down the center aisle toward her.

  At Montclair, Kitty and Meredith, back after their afternoon of shopping, were busy admiring the other's selections before wrapping them. It was a cozy time together as they selected ribbons to complement bright paper, nibbled on Christmas cookies, and chatted.

  Suddenly Kitty noticed that night was coming on. "I'd better start for home, Merry." She wound her scarf around her neck, buttoned her coat, and tucked her hair under her knitted cap.

  "I'll come downstairs with you and tell Jeb to bring the phaeton around and drive you home. It' getting too dark for you to walk, Kitty."

  They left the bedroom and stood at the top of the staircase while Kitty pulled on her gloves. " Then I'll see you tonight?" she asked.

  Just then a voice spoke from behind them, and they turned to see Mrs. Montrose in a mauve velvet tea gown coming down the hall from her room.

  "Oh, is there a party planned for this evening?" Davida asked, frowning slightly.

  Kitty saw Meredith give her mother a quick, anxious glance. "We've all been invited over to the Langleys for supper and dancing," she began, then asked, "Aren't you feeling well, Mama?"

  Davida smiled wanly and shook her head. "Just one of my headaches coming on, I fear. Nothing for you to bother about, darling." She passed a thin hand across her brow, then turned and gave Kitty a long appraising look. "I suppose your sister is out gallivanting all over the countryside. I never knew a girl with so much energy—" Her emphasis on the word made it sound like some kind of vice. "Jonathan said he saw her on the road as he came home from Mayfield earlier. I believe he said, 'She was riding hel
l-bent for leathet'!" Mrs. Montrose's faint smile suggested that she did not consider it in the least humorous.

  She let her implication linger as she moved slowly back toward her own room. "I suppose she'll be at tonight's party, keeping everyone dancing until the wee hours."

  Kitty did not know whether to be indignant or to laugh.

  But Meredith, of course, failed to see beneath her mothet's words and, instead, took a few steps as if to follow her. "Mama, could I get something for your headache?"

  "Sweet girl, it always helps when you stay with me, read to me. Seems to make my headache just fade away. But no, of course not, dear. Go on to the party with the others. I want you to enjoy yourself."

  "But I wouldn't enjoy a minute knowing you were feeling ill—" Meredith's resolve was already wavering.

  "I wouldn't dream of keeping you from your friends. Of course, you must go have fun . . . I won't hear of anything else."

  But, Kitty thought, that is exactly what you do want, Mrs. Montrose. You want Meredith to miss the party and stay home with you—

  chapter 12

  IT WAS ALREADY dark by the time Cara returned to Cameron Hall. At the stable she left Pharaoh with a brisk order to the stableboy to rub him down well and give him plenty of water and oats. Then she went to the back of the house and let herself in the kitchen door. Running up the back stairs to her bedroom, she let the door slam behind her, shedding her jacket, hat, and scarf haphazardly. She hoped to pull herself together before having to face anyone.

  She felt wretched, almost ill with disappointment. She had been so sure it would happen the way she wanted it to, the way she had hoped and dreamed—

  But it wasn't the end of things, not by a long shot. Oh, he was stubborn, but so was she! She'd never yet lost something she really went after, whether it was a horse-show ribbon, a recitation prize at school, or an extra privilege from her indulgent parents. She'd think of a way to convince him—

  Just then she heard Kitty's voice, then Scott's deeper one outside in the hall as they came upstairs. Quickly she grabbed her robe and went into the bathroom adjoining their bedroom and turned on the faucets hard, filling the tub.

  She was lying, eyes closed, in a froth of scented bubbles when Kitty poked her head in the door. "You look relaxed and comfy."

  "I'll be out in a few minutes, then you can have your turn," Cara replied lazily.

  When her twin emerged, Kitty teased. "You look glowing. Decorating a church must suit you." She laughed. "I heard all about your 'gallivanting' around the countryside when I was at Montclair today!"

  Cara registered surprise. Was it her imagination, Kitty wondered, or did her sister suddenly turn pale?

  Cara gave her head a little toss, flounced over to the dressing table, and started to take the pins out of her hair. "Oh, is Mrs. Montrose gossiping about me again?"

  "Not really. You know how she is. But sadly enough, I think she heaped enough guilt on Merry that she'll not be going to the Langleys tonight."

  "That woman!" Cara flung down her hairbrush onto the glass top of the dressing table so the perfume bottles rattled. "Why doesn't she let her children grow up? I declare, I believe Kip will always be tied to his Mama's apron strings!"

  "Well, at least she won't keep Kip from coming tonight," Kitty said, then changed the subject. "What are you wearing . . . your glamorous new gown?"

  "No, I'm saving it—"

  "Saving it? For what?"

  "A special evening."

  "What could be more special than the first big party of the holidays?"

  Cara's eyes narrowed and, as she looked up at Kitty's reflection in the mirror, she smiled a mysterious little smile, It was one Kitty recognized, and it meant that her twin was keeping something from her. Miffed, Kitty went to take her own bath.

  Cara was still fussing with her hair when their mother tapped on the bedroom door to tell her that Kip was downstairs waiting for her.

  "Oh, Kitty, be a lamb and go down and keep Kip happy," Cara begged. "I'll be just a few minutes more."

  Kitty was torn. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was play second fiddle to Cara with Kip. On the other hand, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to be with him for a little bit, even to pretend it was she he'd come to take to the party.

  So with a suppressed sigh, a quick glance in the mirror, and a pat to her hair, Kitty acquiesced, "Oh, all right, but don't be long. You know how he hates being kept waiting."

  Cara laughed and said over her shoulder, "Oh, fudge! Keeping them waiting is the secret to my success with men!"

  Kitty let the bedroom door slam shut behind her. It's probably true, she thought indignantly. Cara never lets any young man know how she feels, while I'm so transparent they see right through me! I guess that's just another difference between us.

  Twenty minutes later, Cara was satisfied with her appearance and, gathering up her white rabbit-fur jacket and beaded evening bag, she glided out to the hall, practicing a few dance steps in her new French-heeled satin slippers.

  Hearing voices in the hall below, she imagined it must be Tuck Henderson come to take Kitty to the Langleys' party. Curious to see him in his VMI dress uniform, Cara leaned over the balcony for a peek.

  She saw more than she had bargained for. The tall blond cadet was carrying on an animated conversation with their mother, while Kip stood at the foot of the staircase, talking with Kitty, How lovely she looks tonight, thought Cara affectionately, noticing how her sister's head tilted as she gazed up into Kip's eyes. Why, she looks absolutely enchanted.

  The truth dawned slowly. Kitty is in love with Kip! Kitty . . . Kitty and Kip! With the revelation, Cara felt as if the breath had been knocked from her body.

  Now what was she to do? Kip had fit so neatly into her plans. It had all been so natural. They went back so far, shared so much—their childhood, their sense of fun and adventure, many of the same traits. They were almost more alike than she and Kitty, Cara thought with some irony. The big secret they had kept all these years—the time capsule in the secret room at Montclair and the discovery of the staircase leading down and out through the garden to the river—

  All at once something Meredith had said to her one day on the beach flashed to mind. "It's inevitable, you know. Kip is bound to fall in love with one of you."

  If I hadn't deliberately used Kip for my own purposes, would he have fallen in love with Kitty? she wondered miserably and drew a long breath. Kip would eventually inherit Montclair and settle down to be the country gentleman he was born to be, once all the wildness—the wildness she loved in him—played itself out. That's what his parents are counting on and, in the end, that's what will happen. And Kitty would be much better suited to that kind of life than I—

  As she was standing at the top of the steps, these thoughts crowding her brain, Kip looked up and saw her and frowned ferociously. "Well, there you are at last, slowpoke. Do you finally think you're beautiful enough to appear in public? Come on, you've kept us waiting long enough."

  The Langleys' home was a holiday fairyland, Their drawing room and hallway had been converted into a long ballroom with swags of evergreens and holly decorating the windows and red candles in brass sconces burning brightly. A popular dance band was playing the current musical favorites while couples whirled on the polished floor, the men's black evening tails sailing, the young women's bright dresses spinning like colorful pinwheels.

  In spite of her own full dance card, Kitty found her eyes unconsciously following Kip. Most of the time, he was either dancing with Cara or gazing at her. Kitty remembered how she had longed to be grown up, how when they were children, nothing was more fun than dressing up in their mother's clothes, pretending to be a ballerina or a bride. Now she desperately wished for those days again! How simple things were when she and Cara were best friends, when they could talk together about anything, no matter what.

  How she longed to be able to talk with Cara now. But they had both changed. Circumstances had changed
. And now there was this awful barrier between them: Kip Montrose.

  In the midst of all the music and laughter and gaiety, Kitty felt her heart wrench, swept by inexplicable sadness. Finally it was the last dance before supper. Soon she could go home.

  "I've invited Vance Langley to escort me to the Christmas dance at the Tollivers," Cara said lightly the next morning as they were getting dressed.

  Wide-eyed, Kitty turned to regard her sister. "But I t h o u g h t . . . I mean, what about Kip?"

  "What about him?" Cara forced a carelessness in her tone.

  "I'm almost sure he expected that you—"

  "I don't care what he expected." Cara shrugged, bending to straighten her stockings so that Kitty could not see her face. "Did he say something to you about it?"

  "Not in so many words, but I just think . . . I mean, it's obvious he cares about you . . . and I assumed—"

  For a moment Cara could not speak, hoping that when she did, her voice would not betray her. "Well, he assumed wrong. Why don't you ask him?"

  "But, Cara, it's you he wants to take," Kitty protested.

  "If he does, that's not my fault. I never meant to give him that impression." Cara picked up the silver-handled brush from the dressing table and began brushing her hair vigorously, so hard, in fact, that her eyes stung and watered. But she kept her tone even as she said, "Oh, Kitty don't be such a shrinking violet. For heaven's sake, it's not as though we haven't all known each other forever. Ask him!"

  With the discussion seemingly at an end, Kitty felt there was yet much left unsaid. But something had happened to that warm intimacy she and Cara had once shared. There was tension between them now. She didn't know what had caused it, nor did she know how to ease it.

  Since coming home, Cara was different, argumentative and touchy. So all the things Kitty would have liked to say to her sister, especially about Kip Montrose, had to remain uncomfortably locked in her heart.