His voice was shaking. “Really, Carol,” he said, “I’m surprised at you. You’re not even being a very good playwright. Furthermore, your estimation of my character is damnably low. Do you think I could calmly watch my own brother lose his sanity and make no attempt to do anything about it, but instead, use my time planning what I could do to save his half of the estate for myself? I couldn’t tolerate myself if I were that repulsive. Do I give off an odor of malevolence? How do you tolerate me, thinking as you do?”
“Listen, John — ”
“You listen. I’m fond of you, perhaps more than I should be, but you’re goddamned exasperating. I don’t intend telling you what’s behind this, but I can tell you what frightens me and why I’m half crazy, myself, from worry. The thing I fear is what you think I want. I’m afraid of inheriting any part of Jeff’s half of the estate.”
I just stood there blinking at him, beyond comprehension.
John said softly, “You don’t understand, do you? I’ll tell you. Jeff, my dear, has made three unsuccessful attempts at suicide.”
I drew in my breath sharply. His words stood out before my eyes as if they were on film that was slowly dissolving.
He nodded. “Yes. That’s right. Suicide. Not exactly ugly, as you feel, but not pretty, either. He may succeed the fourth time. I’m trying to dissuade him by trying new tactics. I don’t know if they’ll work, but I’m trying. It’s even more difficult to tell you this; but everything that has happened to him has been by his own hand. Jeff is not at all the person you think you married, and never has been. But that still doesn’t mean I’d like to see him succeed at suicide. He is my brother.”
He opened the door and was about to leave, but paused in the opening and again looked back at me. The quick anger had gone and the ugly line of his mouth had altered and his eyes were sympathetic and oddly gentle. “Carol — ”
“Yes?”
“Forget what has been said — I mean what we have said in anger. Matters are difficult enough without us two becoming angry with each other. I like you. I liked you the first moment I saw you. But I would like you to give me a little of your faith — freely, I mean. Please think it over.”
“I will.”
“Another thing. Whatever else you do, don’t walk out on us. Just having you here in the house has changed the atmosphere a good deal for the better. I need you as badly as Jeff does. So don’t leave.”
He smiled at me and the door closed and he was gone. I dropped onto the chaise longue with a thump. Perhaps everything he had had to say added up to a lot of common sense, but if so, there was something wrong with my reaction. I felt unclean.
Chapter Eleven
LYNECREST became more suffocating than ever. I had to get out of the house. I picked up a set of golf clubs and drove to Del Monte Lodge and looked about for a partner. The starter was more than helpful when I dropped the magic name of Hamlyne. He introduced me to a young man who was about to tee off and I joined him. The poor boy had a miserable time of it. He was a beautiful golfer, but I sliced and hooked and dubbed all over the course and even his game gradually went to pieces. When we started he was pleased with my company and just a little on the make, but as the game progressed he became furious with me. I did not mind that, though I felt sorry for him. His anger kept him silent and that was what I wanted.
I inhaled deep lungfuls of air and smelled the green grass and the ocean salt and drank in the beauty of the gnarled cypress trees about the course and my mind cleared. I was able to go the entire distance around the course without thinking of any of the ugly ideas pounding at the back of my brain.
The young man escaped from me at the eighteenth green and hurried for the bar. The starter informed me that my husband had dropped by, looking for me, but had driven away. When I called the house Brannen said that he had returned home for a moment, but had gone out again. He could be anywhere.
It was getting rather late and there were no other starting players, but I teed off and again went around the course, alone. I had to stay in the air and in the open for a while longer, even though the fog was beginning to chill me. I had to think of Jeffrey and that demanded a clear mind.
When it got too dark to play I returned to the car and put away the clubs. I slid behind the wheel and started toward Lynecrest, not without trepidation, but with the firm determination that I would see the situation through.
There was a strange car in the driveway and I wondered about it, but idly. Brannen met me in the hallway with a telegram from Sam Brandt. He would be able to spend the coming week end with us, arriving Saturday afternoon. The thought of seeing him so soon altered the whole character of the evening. It was like a fresh breath of air blowing through Lynecrest. Sam would know all the answers. His understanding of human nature was clinical and thorough. An hour spent with the two men, or either of them, and Sam would know. Anticipatory relief flooded through me in a great wave.
I hurried to my rooms to change for dinner, feeling warm and comfortable and even secure. Ann laid out my clothes and I chatted with her and felt so good that I decided on a new dinner dress I had worn but once, with Jeffrey in New York. It was as if Sam had already arrived. I realized that my subconscious had been aching with the need of him for a long time. We spoke the same language. The burden I had been carrying began to lift then.
When I went downstairs I remembered the strange car and, though Brannen had said nothing, knew that someone was calling. I crossed the living room toward the library door, which was partly open. I was about to step through when I heard voices and recognized Vivien’s and then remembered that the car was hers. If Jeffrey had returned home again, Brannen would have told me. It had to be John talking with Vivien.
I was about to turn away when I heard Vivien say, “Her ignorance of what goes on with her husband is appalling. Practically anyone in Pebble Beach knows more about Jeff Hamlyne than Carol does. In a way, it’s amusing.”
John’s voice rumbled through the doorway. “You were always overly imaginative.”
“Imaginative!” Vivien laughed. “I know what I’m talking about, and you know it. Just let me tell you something.”
I waited near the door, listening, but at that moment John stepped to the door and closed it without seeing me, I heard the key turn in the lock. John was taking no chances that anyone else would hear what Vivien had to say.
I had no wish to disturb them, but I had no false compunctions about eavesdropping, under the circumstances. I left the door and walked the length of the long living room and went into the solarium. There I made my way between the plants, cautiously feeling my way, but thankful that the lights were not on. I found the door I had noticed before, opened it slowly, and stepped into a room that was offset at an angle, but was part of the library, a general catch-all for magazines, stools, papers, and an overflow of books. Heavy draperies were closed over the arch leading into the library proper. I moved to the draperies and opened them just enough to afford a good view of the library.
Vivien was seated on the couch before the fireplace. She had a highball in her hand and had apparently been drinking heavily. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. Her slim legs were crossed and her dress was disarranged, revealing a bit of her thighs. But she was oblivious of everything, except whatever it was that was burning in her fevered brain.
John was mixing a highball for himself and then he took his usual stance by the fireplace mantel. He was angry and he was nervous; the hand holding the glass was shaking.
Probably in response to a statement I had not heard, he raised an eyebrow and said, “Really?”
Vivien sipped at her drink, then nodded. “Yes, darling, really. I opened the door and there he was. He just walked right in. I told him I was expecting Scott, but he didn’t seem to care. He didn’t seem to care about anything.”
John said, “Well, we had another row today, worse than before. I suppose he was upset and agitated.”
“You know,” Vivien smiled
, “you’re a bastard, a plain, unadulterated bastard. There’s something queer about that man, and you tell me he’s agitated. He had a most peculiar smile, like — well, it’s hard to say, but as a man would be who has made up his mind about something awful and yet is amused by it.”
“He was upset.”
“Don’t be an ass. Can you picture the shambles if Scott had walked in just then?”
“What did Jeff want?”
“Well, that’s it, I don’t know. He never said. Really, he was very queer. There was no excuse for his dropping in. He wouldn’t sit down and he wouldn’t take a drink.
Naturally, I was anxious to get him out. He just stood in the middle of the room and talked a lot of nonsense.”
John bit his lower lip, but his eyes never wavered from hers. “What did he talk about?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “It was all a lot of mumbo-jumbo. The only thing he said that made any kind of sense was that he was sorry the way everything had gone so wrong, but that no one need worry any longer. Then he left. But a remark like that scared me and I wanted to go with him. He slapped my face — he was like a maniac — and shoved me back in the house and slammed the door.”
There was silence for a moment, while the two watched each other warily, then Vivien said, “I don’t understand it. Is he here?”
John shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. He — er — well, he avoids me as much as possible.”
“I don’t blame him for that. You’re a louse on a pretty high plane, but still a louse.”
John was amused, suddenly, and actually chuckled. I was fairly gasping at the language Vivien used with John, but they seemed to understand each other. I had the impression, too, that that sort of language had become habit from long usage.
John said, “Still sore, aren’t you? But you have no reason to be. You understood as well as I that our affair was only a passing thing. You certainly had no reason to strike back at me through my brother. I think that’s one of the rottenest things I’ve ever heard of anyone pulling.”
Vivien stared at him and then gasped, “Do you really — honestly — do you think — is that what you think?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “What else?”
“Why, you conceited fool! The great Hamlyne, the great high Poobah himself. As if I would ever stoop to strike back at you for any cause. Why,” she sneered, “I was no more in love with you than — than I am with Scott. And, believe me, that’s saying a lot. I was even happier to break off our little romance than you were.”
“I’ll believe that when Jeff becomes a captain of industry.”
“I don’t care what you believe, but just for the record, Jeff sought me out. Brother like brother. I was surprised, but definitely not amazed. He started by crying on my shoulder — that stupid marriage of his. Then from crying on it he graduated to other ideas.” She cocked her head on one side and smiled wickedly at him. “You know, John, I always thought you two were pretty dissimilar. Jeff had a different kind of personality than yours. But he’s more like you than I realized.”
I felt ill and clenched my fingers on the draperies, as the room spun for a moment before my eyes. But I was incapable of leaving that spot.
I could see, too, that John was disgusted with the situation. He tried to break it off by saying, “Listen, Vivien; Jeff or Carol could walk in here any minute.”
“Where is the lovely little bride?”
“Playing golf, the last I heard. But she can’t be out on the course this time of evening. Now, why don’t you leave? If you stay it’s just going to lead to a lot of trouble.”
Vivien settled deeper in the couch, content to be where she was. “Trouble,” she said, “doesn’t worry me in the slightest. Scott’s plastered and on the warpath. No one could cause more trouble than that sweet character.” She held her glass toward John. “I could use another.”
He grumbled, “You’re more than a little halfway over right now,” but he mixed another highball for her. When he had resumed his position at the fireplace he asked, “What’s wrong with Scott?”
“Plenty.” She chuckled. “He has a terrific capacity, but when I left he was drinking it by the barrel, and even he can’t do that. He’s still on his feet, though. Lovely person, Scott. Should be happy. Should be married to a lady wrestler. That would make him happy.” She sipped at her drink, then turned her gaze back to John. “But he’s far from that tonight.”
John tried to be casual by telling Vivien that Scott always drank too much. “I’ve been telling him that for years. As you say, though, he can handle more than an ordinary person.”
Vivien laughed at him. “Who cares how much he drinks? You don’t care. I don’t care. What you’d like to know is why he’s plastered tonight, and that’s what I’m here to tell you about.”
John looked almost laughably naïve as he asked, “Does it concern us?”
“I think it concerns you more than you’ve let anyone believe. I think you’ve been at the bottom of all Jeff’s trouble.”
“So now it’s Jeff again.”
“It’s never been anything else,” she cried. “It’s always been Jeff and you know it and I’ve just come to the conclusion that you’re the one pulling something definitely phony. Jeff is going haywire and you’re behind it.”
I watched with surprise as John gulped down half of his drink. He was more nervous than I had realized. He was drinking like Jeffrey.
But he was patient as he said, “Well, Vivien, let’s have first things first and we can indulge in recriminations later. What is it that’s so wrong with Scott tonight?”
“What we’re talking about,” she said, “Jeff.”
“Naturally, he must know something about your indiscretion.”
Vivien laughed. “Get off your pedestal, John. We’re all people. We’re good and we’re bad and we’re a lot of things, but we don’t tag a vital matter as indiscretion. We call it what it is. For the first time in my life I’m in love. This isn’t a casual affair and you know it and Scott has had a hunch about it, but now he knows it, too. I told him just a little while ago.”
John’s knuckles went white on the glass he was holding. I held my breath, waiting for it to break in his hand, but the pressure of his fingers relaxed a degree.
He said, “I don’t mean to be rude, Vivien, but you’re on a one-way street. I’m quite sure that if the feeling was mutual Jeff would have told me so.”
“You’re lying. He has told you. He told me that he told you just before the blushing bride arrived.”
“Speaking of that,” John smiled, “there would seem to be all sorts of difficulties in your way. Not only are you married, but Jeff has a wife who’s no fool. She’s in love with him and my guess is that when he comes out of the queer trance he’s in he’s going to find himself still in love with her.”
I watched the two of them with the utmost fascination. Vivien was lacking in patience, but she was not resorting to subterfuge. But with John it was obvious that a deeper issue was involved. He intended clinging to evasions as long as possible.
“In that case,” Vivien snapped, “he’ll pay more than his pound of flesh. He isn’t like you, or other men I’ve known. He stated flatly that he was in love with me and I believed him. And still do. That’s why I let down my guard and fell in love, too. It wouldn’t have happened otherwise. All my life I’ve been careful about that. I have nothing to hide. Maybe I do incline toward the nympho, but that’s why I’m cautious about falling in love.”
“And the pound of flesh?”
“A half-dozen letters,” she smiled, “written to me on Hamlyne stationery. Happy?” she purred.
John muttered, “The fool,” but he was not so distressed as I had expected him to be.
He moved away to refill his own glass and I thought, for a moment, that he was looking at me or had detected some movement in the draperies. But his eyes flicked by.
He returned to the fireplace to tell Vivien, as if they
had been talking about some other matter, “Very soon, now, the gears are going to be set in motion to put me in politics. I’ve been working with a certain group toward that end for years. Jeff has always known how much it means to me.”
Vivien said, “So what?”
He ignored her and continued, “Of course, our wealth is a great handicap where the voters are concerned. But we feel that with the right publicity concerning certain philanthropic endeavors of ours, we can surmount that. But a family scandal? That would kill the whole program.”
He paused for a moment, and Vivien was also quiet, thinking it over. Then she said, “I’m not interested in scandal, either. Anyway, the people would be voting for you, if they’re that stupid, not your brother.”
He smiled lightly and shook his head. “Anything that happens to Jeff might just as well happen to me, Vivien. Our initials are identical and our faces are identical. Any photograph of Jeff in the press is also my likeness. I would be confused with him and that would end any program. Do you see how that could happen?”
Vivien saw his point and became a little subdued. She said, “Scott is going to get hurt, that can’t be helped, but I’m not anxious to hurt you, in spite of what I think will happen to politics when you get in. Jeff and I can take our time getting the divorces. There’s no need to get all excited about it.”
John said, “You miss the point entirely. Jeff is not going to get a divorce and he is not going to marry you. I know. What I’m talking about is your threat of using his letters.”
“That,” said Vivien, “is not just a threat. He marries me or I use the letters.”
John should have let the matter rest right there. Vivien was making reckless statements because she had had too much to drink. But when she was sober she would be compelled to consider the picture from his angle. However, there was something else at stake that had nothing to do with romance or letters or politics. There was a drive or a great pressure within John that had to find expression.
Marriage Bed Page 15