Giles’s hands tightened on the wheel. “What am I to do?”
“Persuade Aunt Amalie to aid you with Richard. I’ve been talking to her and I think she’s wavering against Elise.”
“Elise is defeating her too,” Giles said. “They had a quarrel recently, though I don’t know what it was about. There’s always been a ruthless wildness in Elise, and it’s growing worse. I don’t think she’ll listen to Amalie or anyone else.”
“Richard loves his grandmother. And he respects her. If she can be persuaded to talk to him, oppose whatever Elise is doing, it may have some effect. She must come to your help.”
Giles shook his head. “I don’t know. His illness frightened her badly. She’s been even more indulgent toward him since then. Charles is probably a better bet. At least to influence Amalie. I’ll have a talk with him before long. Lacey darling, I appreciate your concern.”
I wanted to cry out that Richard was my son as well as his. It seemed unbearable that I could not rightfully share these problems with him. But the time had not come for that rather terrible confession. It could only be made under happier—or more desperate—circumstances.
Giles unmoored the boat and started the motor. We roared off down the creek, and when we were out on the water, with the prow cutting the small waves a light wind was forming, I looked back and saw that Hadley Rikers stood in the doorway of the cabin, watching us go.
In my pocket I felt the bulge of the yellow silk kerchief that belonged to Elise. I was not quite sure why I had taken it. Perhaps because I was afraid of the violence I’d sensed in Giles there in the cabin, afraid of what he might do if he saw it. But there was another reason as well, and it was beginning to formulate itself in my mind. Perhaps the time had come for a confrontation between Elise and me. Perhaps I was the only one who could frighten her. Not for my sake, or even for Giles—but because of Richard.
8
When we got back to Sea Oaks we found Richard on his pony, Starlight, with Aunt Amalie putting him through his paces. She stood at the side of the practice ring that had been cut out of trees at a little distance from the house, and directed the young rider with crisp, no-nonsense orders. There was no indulgence, it seemed, when it came to something like being a good horseman.
Nearby Floria and Paul stood watching. Floria wore slacks and a cotton blouse of a particularly poisonous green. Giles and I joined them, and she threw us a quick searching look. Aunt Amalie greeted us with a smile and then returned her interest to Richard and his pony.
For me the scene was achingly familiar. When I was young, the one thing I had hated about Hampton Island was the riding. Everyone there rode well, except me. My mother had ridden when she was young, and she had considered it a disgrace that I was slightly afraid of horses. Amalie had always been the best horsewoman, with Elise running her a close second, even as a young girl. No one could quite match Aunt Amalie in a saddle. She looked marvelous on the back of her mount, and she was always in full command. Floria was expert too, but she rode recklessly to suit herself.
“Sit up straight,” Aunt Amalie called to Richard. “And don’t forget to keep your heels down and away from the pony.” She turned to Giles impatiently. “The boy doesn’t take to the simplest fundamentals. He seems to forget from one lesson to the next.” Then she turned back to Richard. “Let’s see you trot around the ring now. And I want some good posting.”
Richard rode grimly, as if he hated it. His grip was too tight on the reins, and his posting unrhythmic, uncertain. How well I remembered! Aunt Amalie’s training had made a moderately good rider of me, but I’d never really enjoyed it, and now Richard, growing up in the midst of everyday riding, was taking after me.
He trotted all the way around the ring, and then tried, a simple canter, looking as though he was terrified of falling off.
Paul had drawn Giles away from the ring and was talking to him about some matter at the plant. Aunt Amalie was concentrating solely upon the young rider and his pony. I stood alone with Floria.
“Why did you run away from us on Palmetto Island?” I asked.
She thrust her thumbs under her leather belt and turned slowly away from the ring to look at me. “So it was you who came into the Barretts’ cabin? You and Giles, I suppose?”
I nodded. “He took me there in his boat. He wanted to look in on the house while the Barretts were away.”
“I didn’t know it was you,” she said. “Though I think I’d have tried to get away anyway. Don’t say anything about my being there, will you?”
“Not if you’d rather I didn’t,” I agreed. “Though I don’t understand why.”
“Elise would be furious,” Floria said. “It’s not that I mind making her angry. But I’d still prefer not having her know I was there.”
“I suppose you’re aware that Hadley Rikers is staying on Palmetto?” I said.
She was suddenly evasive. “That’s none of my business, is it? Or yours, either.”
“Perhaps not. But it seems to be very much Giles’s business,” I said.
She walked deliberately away from me and went to stand beside Paul and Giles. I didn’t know what she was up to, or what had made her go to Palmetto in the first place, but evidently the subject was closed between us.
“Again!” Aunt Amalie instructed Richard. “Go around again, and try to remember everything this time. How we’ll ever get you to jumping lessons, I don’t know, if you don’t manage the simplest part of riding.”
Richard reined his pony in her direction and trotted directly over to the fence. His face wore the same dark look his father could wear.
“I don’t want to jump,” he said. “I don’t ever want to enter horse shows and do all that sort of thing. If I could just bump around on Starlight in my own way, it would be all right. But there’re so many rules, and so many right and wrong things. Why should I bother? I’m not ever going to ride when I grow up!”
“That is something you’ll change your mind about,” Aunt Amalie said. “Do you think your father would be content to have a disgraceful seat on a horse? Do you think—?”
Richard turned away from her rudely and spoke to me. “Can you ride?”
“After a fashion,” I said. “And I learned the hard way, just as you’re learning. I learned because Aunt Amalie was patient enough to teach me.”
His grandmother went to Starlight and patted him before she put an arm about Richard in the saddle. “Don’t be cross and rude, darling. Of course you must be a good horseman. You’d be ashamed to be the head of Hampton Island and not be able to ride properly. You know we do a lot of riding here. Now be a good boy and go back around the track again. Just once more, and if you do it well, I’ll let you off for the day.”
At Richard’s urging, Starlight trotted back into the ring and they set off on another round.
“Why is he afraid?” I asked.
Aunt Amalie shrugged. “He’s had a couple of falls, and I suppose they’ve frightened him. But he should be getting over it by this time. No harm was done on either occasion. He must learn to ride well.”
“I’m glad to see he’s being disciplined about something,” I said dryly.
She raised her eyebrows at me. “You sound impatient, Lacey. But not with Richard.”
“You’ve all coaxed him too much,” I said, and walked away from her.
I was on the point of being angry, and I didn’t want to be. At least I hoped we had seen enough of riding for the moment. But of course I really knew better. There was little else to do on Hampton Island, and riding had always been part of everyday life for both the Hamptons and the Severns. At Sea Oaks there was a small trophy room of cups and ribbons won over the years by Amalie, Elise, and Floria. Giles rode well, had always ridden, but he had never been interested in the showmanship that engaged the others.
I went back to the house and upstairs to my room. Vinnie was there, laying out a dress on the bed.
“Miss Elise sent you this,” she said, smoothing ou
t the folds of a long, flowing white gown. “It sure is a pretty dress. She say for you to try it on and see if the fit is right. If it’s wrong I can fix the hem. I reckon it’ll make you look pretty as anything for the ball.”
I had forgotten the Camelot ball. I picked up the dress and held it before me, turning in front of the long mirror on the closet door. It was high-waisted, with a round, low neck, and long, tight sleeves. The skirt hung full, with a modified train at the back. It was a graceful style, and I could probably wear it.
“Thanks, Vinnie,” I said. “I’ll try it on in a little while.”
I laid the dress down on the bed and she stood staring at it, as though there was something on her mind.
After a moment she asked the question that was troubling her. “You like your boat ride, Miss Lacey?”
It had always been that way with Vinnie. She knew what was going on.
“I loved it,” I said. “It was wonderful to get out in the marshes and creeks. It was good to see nothing but birds and grass and water.”
She reached out absently and straightened a fold of the dress. “Maybe I’m gonna say something I shouldn’t ought to. But you never did scare me none, Miss Lacey, so I reckon I have to take a chance on makin’ you mad.”
I smiled at her. “This sounds terribly ominous.”
“Maybe it is. But I’m gonna say it anyways. Miss Lacey, I think maybe you better not go off alone with Mr. Giles. I think it upsets too many people.”
I knew who she meant by “too many people.” Elise, who didn’t want Giles herself, would nevertheless hold him jealously against all comers. Elise would not want him to be off on a boat ride with me.
“I don’t think it will happen often,” I told Vinnie.
“That’s fine,” she said. “In some ways it’s too bad you had to go to Palmetto Island.”
“You’ve been talking to Floria.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no. That Mr. Rikers is back, ain’t he?”
“He’s going to work on his manuscript. Apparently the Barretts have loaned him their cabin for a while.”
“Manuscript!” Vinnie snorted. “I coulda told by the look on your face when you talked about it last time you were here, that there weren’t much to get excited about in that book of his. He don’ come ’round here just for that.”
“Do you think you ought to be talking this way, Vinnie?” I asked gently.
“I reckon I shouldn’t,” she agreed readily. “But I remember you as a lil’ girl. And I remember Miss Elise too. I don’ work for her, Miss Lacey. I work for Miss Amalie. And when I wan’ to, I say what I please.”
“Thank you, Vinnie,” I said. A long time ago young Kitty had been loved by Vinnie, and now she was taking up a certain responsibility to Kitty’s daughter.
She gave the white dress a last pat, smiled at me a bit sternly, and went out of the room. When she was gone I ran downstairs in search of Elise.
I found her in the small trophy room looking over her triumphs from the past.
“It doesn’t seem that Richard will ever add to your blue ribbon collection,” I said.
She looked around at me. “Did you enjoy your boat ride?”
“It was wonderful,” I said. “I want to talk to you, Elise.”
“That will be fine. It’s time we had a talk, you and I. Let’s go down to the beach where we can walk and talk without being interrupted.”
I was willing. She wore sandals and a brief skirt that left her legs bare, and as she walked ahead of me out of the house she seemed enormously vital and as assured as ever. We went down to the beach together and I turned automatically toward the stepping-stones that led over the beach wall.
Elise laughed and came with me. “So you still take Lacey’s way? The regular steps seem easier to me, but I remember Floria used to say this was lucky for you. I wonder if it still is.”
I clambered over the rocks ahead of her, and found myself moving quickly, not wanting to be too close to her on the precarious stones. That was foolish, of course. I had nothing to fear from Elise in full sight of the house. Yet I moved warily, sensing the enmity in her, knowing that conflict lay ahead.
The day had turned cloudy, with the wind whipping in from the ocean, and gulls soaring the air currents, or gliding in to land on the beach as they sometimes did ahead of a storm.
We crossed loose sand and walked along that hard, wet band which rimmed the water’s edge. Walked side by side as we had done so often as children. The gray waves washed in a foot or so away in a creaming curl that withdrew before it touched our feet.
I pulled the yellow kerchief from my pocket and held it out to her. “You left this on Palmetto Island.”
She took it from me casually and knotted it around the neck of her white blouse. “How careless of me.”
“We saw Hadley Rikers,” I said. “He seems to have moved in quite comfortably.”
“Yes. I helped him a bit in moving in.” She was mocking me openly now. “After all, we do want something good to come of his book, don’t we? And that’s an ideal place to work.”
“What does Giles think?” I asked.
“Oh—Giles! You sound like my mother. She wasn’t pleased about Hadley’s coming to the island either. We had something of a fight about it. But I shall do as I please. I always have.”
So Aunt Amalie knew. So this was the cause of their quarrel.
“What you like may be damaging to Richard,” I said. “Don’t you consider that?”
For the first time she threw me a look of irritation. “I think you must allow me the right to know what’s best for Richard. He’s an intelligent, sensitive boy, and he can’t be treated rudely.”
“I know about what happened with Vinnie,” I said. “And about the way he tried to get even with his father—with you taking his side. This doesn’t sound—”
“Why should I scold him when he was behaving exactly the way I would in his place? You know, Lacey, you really aren’t his mother any more. I think it’s a mistake for you to come back here and stir yourself up. I should think you’d have better sense. Richard is in the best possible hands. Mine. I propose that he should stay there.”
“Perhaps he shouldn’t,” I said. “If Giles divorces you, and it’s shown that Richard is his son, but not yours, then the court may very well give him to Giles.”
“There’ll be no divorce,” Elise said confidently. “Giles would never dare. I could make it all too unpleasant for him. And especially for you.”
“I don’t matter,” I told her quickly. “Not when I weigh myself against what is happening to Richard.”
She walked along in silence for a few moments and I thought I had brought her to a momentary halt. Perhaps I had even startled her. She must have been counting on the fact that Giles would protect me at all costs, and that I would expect to be protected.
“What do you want?” she asked at last.
“You could divorce Giles and let him take the boy. It would save the much more unpleasant way. And what difference would it make to you? You’d be able to marry Hadley Rikers, and—”
She whirled about on the sand beside me and that frightening wildness was upon her again. “I can have Hadley without marriage. And I’ll never let Giles go—never!”
“Then he’ll have to take steps to force your hand.”
“So that you can have him, little cousin? Oh, no! He belongs to me and that’s the way it’s going to be, whether he likes it or not.”
I saw something in her face then—saw the truth. She had no affection for him. She would not try to make him a good wife, but she meant to hold him somehow, no matter how hurtfully, and at whatever cost. She had never been able to give up anything once possessed. All the ruthlessness that was part of her nature reached out toward him with a relentless grasp. The only way Giles could win would be if he were as ruthless as she—and I was not sure he would ever reach that point. There was always Richard to be considered. That was where she could defeat Giles, because if i
t was to her interest she would not trouble to think of the boy.
“Well—you’ve had your talk,” she said. “And it’s been a waste of time, hasn’t it? Except that now you know a little better how I feel. You lost Giles a long time ago, my foolish little cousin, and there’s nothing left for you to do but accept the fact—as you should have done years earlier.”
“I don’t accept anything that is harmful to my son,” I told her.
She gave me a quick look in which there was a certain disbelieving surprise. “I suppose that’s true, isn’t it? You really are trying to think of Richard first. Even though mistakenly. Richard is fine, and he loves me dearly. He loves me as he loves no one else—not even his father.”
“A child’s love changes easily,” I said. “If his circumstances were changed, he would quickly—”
Elise broke in on my words. “I know a lovely thing I could do!” She reached out to touch me lightly on the arm, to draw her fingers along my skin from wrist to elbow in a way that made my flesh crawl. “I could tell Richard the truth about who he is. I could tell him that he’s not my son, but yours. I could tell him the trick his father has played upon him, with your help.”
“You’d never do that!” I cried. “You’d never risk—”
“Oh, yes, I would. Think about it, darling. Use that clever little mind of yours. Look at the ramifications. If you press me too closely, if you force my hand—that is exactly what I will do.”
She turned from me and ran up the beach toward the wooden steps that led toward the house. I walked along the sand slowly in her wake, my mind coming fully alive to the dreadful possibilities of the thing she threatened.
It would be the cruelest of acts to Richard to tell him that the mother he adored was not his real mother at all. To tell him that his real mother was a woman he did not even like. And I knew that Elise would tell him in a way that would hurt him most, that would make him think the truth was too terrible to be borne. She was right about his being a sensitive, intelligent boy. To see his father in this new light, to give up every right to the woman he believed to be his mother, would be to set loose destructive forces in his nature that might never be mended. The damage would grow worse as he grew older. In today’s world bastardy might not matter as much as it had in the past—except to the bastard. With the years, Richard’s knowledge that he was illegitimate and not the true heir of the island through Elise, would become more and more painful to realize. He might well learn to hate his father, and he would easily hate me. That he might hate Elise as well was a risk she was clearly willing to take. Basically, to Elise, Richard was a tool to be used. As her son, as her heir to the island, she would hold him to her. But if there was a greater gain to be made by telling him the truth, she would snatch at that gain ruthlessly. It might even be that he would not hate her because of the way she would handle the telling. She might so win his sympathy that she would come out of this as the one person who could still hold his love. She could play the role of the misused to perfection, I was sure, and she might very well bind Richard to her.
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