Marriage Bed

by Dixon, H. Vernor

  “Thank you, Brannen. You are from New York?”

  “Easthampton. I was with the Destries for quite a few years.”

  “Then we’ll have much to discuss. I knew them slightly.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Pardon my presumption, but is Mr. Brandt going to continue alone? You were such close collaborators — ”

  I shrugged. “I really don’t know his plans, except that he had an offer from Hollywood. He’ll probably drop out here soon.”

  “That will be a great pleasure.” Brannen then turned to John and said, “I have taken the liberty of arranging for the staff to meet Mrs. Hamlyne later.”

  John nodded. “Very thoughtful of you. It would be a little trying right now.”

  I could see no reason why it should be trying, but as long as everyone was being so considerate I said nothing about it. We walked into the main hall. It was so large that it reminded me of the lobby of a movie palace, but lacking the warmth of crowds. Yet it was beautiful and exquisitely designed. Two staircases curved upward from either side of the hall, directly before us was the entrance to a glassed-in solarium overlooking the ocean, and to my right was the broad arch to the living room, an enormous affair with two fireplaces and plate-glass windows overlooking the ocean and the grounds. It was about as cozy as the waiting room of a railroad depot. Through the arch on my left was a dining room and what looked suspiciously like a ballroom. It was, but I was afraid to investigate at the moment.

  The interior color scheme was subdued, which was necessary as there was so much light streaming in through the many broad windows that the glare against a lighter color would have been intolerable. Lynecrest was certainly well designed. In spite of its massiveness and cool vistas, the ocean and the gardens could be seen from almost any angle, so that the building was almost part of the outdoors.

  Brannen had remained at the car to get our luggage, so John led the way up the stairs on our right. When we turned down the hallway on the second floor he remarked, “Except for the guest rooms, the floor in this wing is one apartment, yours. The other wing opposite, where my apartment is located, is almost identical.” He was thoughtfully silent for a moment, then smiled and said, “You will be the fifth bride to occupy your apartment.”

  I gasped, “The fifth!”

  He nodded. “An appalling number, isn’t it? Our father was married four times, only briefly to our mother. All four of his wives had social prestige and the background of wealth and empty heads. You will be the only Hamlyne woman of talent ever to occupy these rooms. Jeff hasn’t had a chance to have them redecorated, but you can do with them what you wish.” He opened the door. “Shall we go in?”

  As we stepped into the main room of the apartment I was not at all surprised. It was about as I had imagined it would be. There was sufficient femininity to satisfy any woman, but it was in character with the rest of the building, enormous and cool and with far too many rooms: bedrooms, dressing rooms, baths, closets, exercise room, the sitting room where we were standing, and God only knew what else. However, I exclaimed with delight and said that it was lovely.

  But there was no suggestion of Jeffrey about those rooms. I was puzzled and said, “You say your apartment is at the other end of the hall. Where is Jeff’s?”

  He jerked a thumb toward the ceiling and informed me, “On the third floor, directly above you. He and I used to occupy his rooms together when we were boys, but after our father’s death I moved into the lower apartment.” Then he realized what was on my mind and blushed, actually, and stammered, “Well, you see — we hadn’t time — we discussed switching apartments recently — ” He paused and then grinned and said, “Damn it all, Carol, you should have given us at least a week to rearrange matters. I promise you I’ll get out and Jeff will move to this floor just as quickly as it can be done.”

  I was none too thrilled. “Don’t rush it.”

  He was confused and obviously caught in a situation he had not anticipated, so was anxious to leave me. He asked me to meet him in the library, wherever that might be, and then left. That sinking feeling of loss and of being unwanted was then complete. Jeffrey and I had very definitely planned spending part of our time in Lynecrest. And yet no preparations had been made for my presence. I doubted very much if he and John had even discussed the matter. The fact that some rearrangement would be necessary had never entered John’s mind.

  I was never expected to arrive in Lynecrest.

  Brannen brought in my luggage, saving me from going completely to pieces, and, as soon as he had gone, my personal maid entered the rooms. I thought that perhaps I could be wrong, but she had been hired the day before. She said that her name was Ann, a mouselike little creature with nondescript brown hair and ordinary features, but with large liquid brown eyes. I thought that she would just be in the way, but she turned out to be an amazingly efficient little person. She unpacked the luggage I had brought on the plane, arranged a change of dress in the dressing room, and drew water for a bath.

  As it always happens, while I was soaking in the tub she opened the door to inform me that I was wanted on the phone. I told her that I would take the call later, but she said, “It’s long-distance; Mr. Jeffrey.” That was different. She left the bathroom and I stepped out of the tub, thinking I would have to take the call in the other room. I was just reaching for a large towel when Ann returned carrying a phone and cord, which she plugged into a wall jack. She stood there openly staring and nodding with approval at my figure and I could have screamed. Fortunately, she had intelligence enough to disappear in a hurry.

  I threw the towel over my shoulders and picked up the telephone. “Hello. This is Carol.”

  “Carol? Jeff. Cripes, what a time I’ve had catching you!”

  I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath of steaming air. Everything was wrong, the whole situation was bad, but now it was Jeffrey and the same lovably exciting voice. I swallowed and said, “You’ve certainly taken your time catching me.”

  “Now you sound mad. Aw, look, I haven’t liked this one bit. But what the devil could I do? I couldn’t get away. Everything went wrong down south. You didn’t give me enough time. Did John meet you O.K.?”

  “Yes, he did. Your brother has been wonderful.”

  There was a slight pause, then Jeffrey said, “Oh, sure. He’s quite a guy. He never makes a fumble, like I do. Get my flowers at the Mark?”

  “Yes.”

  He chuckled. “Anyway, I had sense enough to think of that. Honest to God, Carol, I’ve practically been out of my mind ever since I got your wire. I don’t usually get involved in our business deals, but I had to handle this one because the other party, one of the biggest growers in El Centro, used to play polo with me. So John and I figured I could close with him better and I got all wrapped up in it. I’ll explain when I get home, but it was very important to us. It gives us a toehold down there.”

  “Are you still in El Centro?”

  “Hell, no! I’m on my way home. I tried to make it before you arrived, but that was impossible. If I had only flown down everything would have been O.K., but I wasn’t feeling too good when I left, so I drove. Where are you right now? Is John there?”

  I said, “Hardly. I was just in the midst of taking a bath. I’m soaking wet.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t keep you. Listen; I’m making it as quickly as I can. I should get in early this evening, but if I’m late, wait up for me. Promise?”

  “Well—”

  “Now, for God’s sake, darling, be reasonable. I tell you, I couldn’t help this. You don’t have to play the dumb bride, you know.”

  “Jeff, I am not playing at anything. I have never been quite so angry in my life.”

  “O.K.,” he said. “Let’s have it.”

  “It can wait until you’re here.”

  His voice changed to a rather angry tone, too, as he said, “I guess I’m in for it. Is that the idea?”

  “Yes.”

  “O.K.,” he sighed. “I’ll h
it the road. By the way, you might do me one favor and wear that black lace nightgown tonight.”

  “Are you mad? I’ve never owned anything like that in my life.”

  “You mean to say I never bought you a black lace nightgown in New York? Good God! I must have been in a flat spin. I’ll rectify that on my way home. See you later, darling. Good-by.”

  “Goodby, Jeff.”

  I dropped the towel to the floor and lowered myself into the tub and let the tears run down to add salt to the perfumed water. Jeffrey was sweet and exciting and sounded as fascinating as ever, but the pattern was not altered; it was still all out of focus. I no longer doubted that the El Centro deal had been of major importance, but the reason why it should prevent him from meeting his wife was weaker than ever. If the other party had been such a close friend, it would seem logical for him to accept a delay in their plans. Then I wondered if I was being the dumb bride, after all, and was more confused than ever.

  While I was dressing, Ann started a running stream of chatter about the wonders of Lynecrest. When I mentioned something about Jeffrey’s apartment being above mine, she explained that the servants’ quarters were also on the third floor, but in the other wing. There was an inside back stairway for their use, but still it was inconvenient having to be so far removed from the working end of the house. There was a cottage on the grounds for the gardeners and other outside help. The ranch help, including the estate manager, Luke Dodd, lived in the buildings on the ranch.

  She was rather informative, but I noticed large gaps in her knowledge of Lynecrest. That was only natural, as she had been there only a day, but when she said that the others were not too used to the place, either, I asked, “What others? You mean I have personal maids working in shifts?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am.” She giggled. “I mean all the others; maids, butler, kitchen staff, housekeeper, gardeners — all of them. They were all hired just a few months ago.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Has Lynecrest been closed?”

  There was excitement in her bovine eyes, but she managed to keep it from her voice. She answered, “Oh, no. It isn’t that, ma’am. Everyone on the estate, inside and outside help, were all fired, except Mr. Dodd.”

  “The estate manager?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They were all let go and all new people brought in.” She paused, staring at me, wondering if she should express a bold thought, and decided that it would probably be all right. “If you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am, it’s made quite a stir in Pebble Beach. No one can figure it out, though it is known he compensated the others very nicely.”

  “Jeffrey Hamlyne?”

  “No, ma’am. Mr. John. He runs everything here. The others tell me they hardly ever see Mr. Jeffrey.” She knew about the quarrel. They all knew about it. That was obvious. But she was clever enough to circle around it. She said, “They usually know who’s home by the cars in the garage. Mr. John likes Packards and Mr. Jeffrey likes Cadillacs. His favorite is a special-built station wagon. I haven’t seen it, myself, but they tell me it’s a beauty, with lots of chrome and all kinds of extras and — and everything. I guess you’ll be driving that now?”

  “I don’t know, Ann.” I smiled and said. “I suppose there was a very good reason for changing the staff.”

  “No doubt, ma’am. They tell me Mrs. Chandler was a big help.”

  She was watching me too narrowly and I felt my body tensing. I wanted to end the conversation but seemed incapable of doing it. “Mrs. Chandler?”

  “Yes’m. She made the selections of all the new people. She’s a lovely woman. I met her just the once, but honestly, I thought she was wonderful right then.”

  “Yes,” I said stiffly, “I am sure she is a very lovely person.” And then I had to turn away. I was not used to a staff of servants, but I suddenly realized that our conversation would be reported verbatim to the others.

  I went downstairs in what could only be called a bemused state of mind. I could not understand the complete turnover in help. Whatever the reason for the change, some of them must have been old family retainers. How could people like that be fired? The reason would have to be unusually compelling. The fact that Vivien had managed the hiring of the others for John was not too surprising, but in view of her affection for my husband I thought that someone should have shown better taste than to allow her to engage my private maid. That was carrying it too far. I wanted a prompt explanation of that.

  I found the library, adjoining the main living room, without too much difficulty, but had no immediate chance to question John. He had brought in the rest of the staff and introduced me to the housekeeper, Miss Laura, a very kindly but astute-appearing woman, and all the various maids, kitchen help, and others. It was quite a parade, and my smile felt frozen by the time they were all gone.

  Brannen touched a match to logs in the fireplace and discreetly withdrew. John raised an eyebrow at me and I nodded, so he mixed dry Martinis. I was astonished when I sipped mine. It was by far the best I ever had.

  John grinned and said, with a wink, “It’s a secret, but I’ll let you in on it.”

  “I’ve never tasted one quite this dry.”

  “It’s really very simple. All you do, after making a regular dry Martini, is shake in a few drops of Scotch.”

  “Scotch!”

  “Yes. Just a few drops, though. The purpose is not to taste the Scotch, but to add another touch of dryness to the cocktail.” A thoughtful shadow crossed his eyes, then he smiled and said, “Jeff was after me for years to tell him the secret.”

  “Doesn’t he know it?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. He may. But don’t you tell him.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die. He called a little while ago.”

  “He did? You mean he phoned? He didn’t talk to me.”

  “I guess he was in a hurry. He had stopped somewhere on the way home.”

  He said huffily, “It’s about time he called. When did he say he’d get in?”

  “Sometime this evening. He wasn’t sure, but he asked me to wait for him.”

  “Did he say anything about the El Centro deal, about the way it was going?”

  “I can’t remember his words, but from the way he talked, I should say he had closed it successfully.”

  John beamed at me and rubbed his hands together. “Good. Good. That’s going to be a help.” He stared into the fire, smiling happily, until Brannen came in to announce dinner. We had another quick Martini, then went to the dining room.

  Later we returned to the library and sat together on a leather couch facing the fireplace. The library was pretentious, in keeping with the other rooms, but it was the “used” room and more comfortable than the others. I watched the flames and felt truly warm for the first time since entering the house. I have always felt lazy before a fireplace.

  John relaxed and stretched his long legs before him and it was almost like being with Jeffrey. He seemed perfectly at ease and chuckled when I asked him how Jeffrey came by his name.

  “It really isn’t his right name,” he explained. “Originally it was spelled G-E-O-F-F-R-E-Y. You know, the English way. That way you couldn’t mix our initials.

  But Jeff always insisted on spelling it with a J, simply to add to the further confusion of our identities, so it was changed legally when we were going to school.”

  He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the flames dancing on the ceiling. “When we were young,” he said, “I was jealous of Jeff. I’m considered a better than average athlete and just as good as Jeff, but I had to work hard for it. Jeff, on the other hand, achieved everything without effort. Whatever he did, it came natural to him. And he didn’t mind rubbing it in.”

  He got up to poke at the fire, then returned to the couch. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his chin cupped in his hands. “That,” he said, “probably accounts for my aloof attitude in later years. I resented having to work at sports harder than Jeff, so I kept out
of that special picture as much as possible.” He turned his face toward me and I saw amused lights in his eyes, but his face was in shadow. “I thought I had lost all that, but now I find myself jealous of him again.”

  “Oh?”

  “Very much so.” He nodded. “I’ll never be intelligent enough, or lucky enough, to make the marriage he has.”

  “John, you’ve been flattering me all day.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Then I’m glad. It — it’s going to be a help — later.”

  He broke the relaxed mood of the moment by glancing at his wrist watch and growling, “What the devil is the matter with that fool? He should certainly be here by now. He’s probably stopping at every bar on the highway.”

  His face was dark with anger and I searched for a way to change the subject. I came out with the first thing on my mind by asking, “John, why did you change the whole household staff recently?”

  There was no answer from him, so I whispered, “John.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was just curious about why you changed the staff. I understand everyone is new except the estate manager.”

  “Yes,” he said, “that’s so.”

  “But some of those people must have been with the family a long time.”

  “Some of them had been.” He stirred restlessly and said, “I took care of them all. They have no complaints. Don’t think about it.”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not worried about it. I was just wondering. It does seem odd, so I thought I’d ask. It hadn’t anything to do with me, had it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t like to think that so many people had been fired because of something to do with me.”

  “It wasn’t for that reason at all.”

  “Couldn’t they get along with each other?”

  He got to his feet and leaned against the mantel of the fireplace. He struck a match and lit a cigarette. He puffed at it a moment, then threw it away and returned to the couch.