Provenance_InteriorDraft_07.indd

by Sawyer, Donna Drew

  wire my dear friends in Richmond to tell them about your

  generous invitation and what a wonderful dinner hostess you

  were. Surely, one of them will remember you and your family

  from your time in Richmond. Please enjoy your day, my dear,”

  she turned to leave, not waiting for an answer. After a few feet,

  Charlotte stopped and turned back to Belle, “Let me just say

  that you are looking particularly well-rested today. I suppose

  you already know that my grandson did not return to his own

  bed last night. At just eighteen years of age, perhaps his judg-

  ment about such things is not what it should be. I had hoped

  the lady, being more mature and certainly wiser, would have

  shown more restraint.” Without waiting for a response from

  Belle, Charlotte quickly returned to her cabin.

  Within the hour, the steward delivered a note addressed

  to Mrs. Charlotte Bennett:

  Please join me in my cabin for lunch at 12:30 p.m.

  today. There are obviously matters of some importance

  you would like to discuss.

  Bel e da Costa Greene

  (VI)

  While Charlotte was out, Maggie had a chance to talk

  to her son alone. Over lunch, Maggie listened to Lance talk

  more about the world he was discovering through his new

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  acquaintances. He had met Walter Chrysler for coffee that

  morning and they talked more about his art collection, the

  artists he knew personally, and what he hoped to acquire on

  this trip. They also talked about the social scene in Paris, and

  Walter invited Lance to join him to see some of the city.

  “Walter and Belle Greene are staying at the same hotel we

  are in Paris, the Ritz,” Lance said then took a bite of his Croque Monsieur. “I know this is just a ham and cheese sandwich but the way the French make it—”

  “Lance, please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Sorry,” he said swallowing. “I had no idea what we were

  in for when Charlotte insisted we leave Richmond but now I

  think this will be good for us. Maybe I’ll buy some art and

  become a collector.”

  Maggie put her hand on her son’s arm to get his attention,

  “I need to talk to you about your father,” she said.

  “What is there to talk about? He died,” Lance responded.

  “Yes,” Maggie said, “he died and we’ve avoided talking

  about him because we were both hurt; he was taken from us

  so suddenly. I know I’ve been selfish. Because of my own grief,

  I haven’t taken care of you at all,” she spoke haltingly trying

  to keep from crying.

  “I’m fine,” Lance said, pushing crumbs around on his plate.

  “Charlotte said to forget him. Maybe we should just do that,”

  he said, sounding like a hurt child.

  “Can you forget your father, Lance?” Maggie asked. “You

  were so devoted to each other.”

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  “He lied to me his whole life, to the people he claimed

  to love—he lied. What does that say about the man? The last

  thing we learn about him, the very last thing is that he was a

  nig—” Lance couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “Yeah,”

  he finished, “I have to forget him.”

  “Lance, please. Does it real y matter what your father was?

  Isn’t who he was more important? Your father was kind, he was loving, smart, hardworking. Remember those things about

  him, the important things. They’re what made us love him.”

  “He also lied about who he was, where he was from. Every

  day we knew him, he lied to us. His whole life was a damn lie.

  Doesn’t that matter?”

  Maggie looked away for a moment. “It doesn’t have to.

  We can forget about that part. It was seconds in an otherwise

  perfect life.”

  “Do you understand that my father took everything from

  me? My home, my name, my future? Colonial Enterprises

  wasn’t just Daddy’s business it was my future. I can’t even go

  to college, what do I do with my life now?”

  Maggie did not know how to respond to her son’s valid

  questions.

  “And look what he did to his brothers. We didn’t even know

  he had a family. He claimed he was no one from nowhere and

  now we know that was a lie too. Should I do what Daddy asked

  me to do? Should I find his brothers, share what we have? He

  made me promise to find them, knowing that if I did it would

  ruin my life. He would have me live as a Negro, something he

  was never willing to do.”

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  “He didn’t want to ruin your life; he just wanted you to

  have family, your uncles to help guide you.”

  “The only thing a colored man can do is teach me how to

  be colored. I’ve never been colored, why would I do that now?”

  “I don’t know what to do, Lance. I don’t know what’s right

  anymore,” Maggie said. Lance took his mother’s left hand and

  fingered the gold band that Hank had placed there more than

  twenty years ago.

  “You should take this off. You’re not a wife anymore, and

  I am no longer my father’s son. The people that we were no

  longer exist. I am Lance Henry Withers and you are Margaret

  Bennett Withers—we are what Daddy always led us to believe

  he was. We aren’t from anywhere. We have no past, no prov-

  enance — all we have in the future.”

  Maggie thought about the question her mother always used

  to start her conversation with strangers, Who are your people?

  Charlotte would judge them based on the answer—that’s what

  she did to Hank the very first time she met him. Now Maggie

  realized she and her son, for fear of harsh judgement, dare not

  answer that simple question.

  Lance got up from the table, went to the window and

  looked out at the endless grey ocean.

  “We may not know exactly where we’re going, but I am

  not confused about who I’ll be when I get there,” he said. “I’m

  going to live like my father did, with all the privileges of a

  white man.” Lance walked back to the table and knelt in front

  of his mother.

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  “We are the Withers family now. We left the Whitakers

  in Virginia. If we accept who Daddy was, and what his blood

  makes me, we lose everything. You know what a Negro’s life

  was like in Richmond. As soon as our neighbors found out what

  Daddy was, what that made me, they hurled rocks through

  our windows delivering a clear messages about my future,

  ‘No niggers in the West End’ and ‘Get out, nigger.’ Your best

  friends acted as if you died along with Daddy. We will never

  get back everything we lost, but we can make a new start. My

  skin color gives me the advantage my father wanted me to have.

  His heritage was his secret, now it’s mine and only by passing

  can I live fully with the legacy my father left me.”

  “What did you do with your father’s journals, Lance? May

  I see them? Maybe they’ll help me understand what happened,


  why he had to leave his family, where he was from, what hap-

  pened to make him run from that life.”

  “I burned his journals,” Lance said as he stood up and

  walked back to the window. “I didn’t want to read his lies. I

  burned them so no one else would ever read them.”

  “Oh Lance, your father wanted you to know his thoughts,

  his history. You will regret what you did one day.”

  “I doubt that,” Lance said as he turned to face his mother.

  Maggie looked at her son, his eyes were cold, his mouth

  set. Everything that had happened since Hank’s death was

  imprinted on his face. He was not who he used to be, and he

  was not who he would become. Maggie resolved to get stronger.

  She had to keep him from becoming bitter, cynical, calculating

  and cold; from becoming Charlotte.

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  “Lance, I know that we’re on an abrupt, strange journey

  because of your father’s death. I know you’ve only had Charlotte

  to rely on these few months, because of my selfish neglect. I’m

  sorry I haven’t been available to you. Today that changes. I’m

  your mother, I love you, and I want you to grow into the best

  man you can be. Things will settle down. We will make a new

  home in Paris, just like we had in Richmond. We’ll be a happy

  family again,” Maggie said.

  Lance heard his mother, but her words were just air. She

  had never really been there for him. She had abdicated that

  responsibility to Del, who had also betrayed him when she

  kept his father’s secret. Lance resolved to never again depend

  on anyone; he would make his own way. He would design his

  own destiny and create his new life. Lance Whitaker died the

  same night his father did. Lance Withers was just coming to life.

  (VII)

  Belle opened a bottle of champagne while she waited for

  Charlotte Bennett to arrive. What havoc could this woman

  cause in her already tumultuous life? Would she really contact

  acquaintances in Richmond? If she did, the tale Bel e had spun

  would surely unravel. There were already rumors about her

  ancestry. Once a whisper, they were now more audible than

  ever in New York society. She feared the talk would weaken

  her standing at the Morgan Library. After J. Pierpont’s death,

  when Jack Morgan made her the first director of the Pierpont

  Morgan Library, she knew she was at the peak of personal

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  power and influence. She also knew the appointment made her

  vulnerable. Exposing her lies would be costly to her and very

  valuable to her enemies. The social mischief Charlotte Bennett

  threatened could compromise Bel e’s glorious, privileged life. A

  few facts or fabrications placed in the right ears by the wrong

  person would fan the flames of gossip and she did not need

  that kind of illumination right now.

  She knew her stunning looks and the small fortune J.P.

  Morgan left her would evaporate with time. Her plan was to

  retire from the Library in a few years, but in the interim, she

  needed to maximize her earnings and her value in the art world.

  Yes, she slept with the young man. Lance was clearly past

  the age of consent. In Europe, such liaisons were an ordinary,

  glorious aspect of life. Americans are so provincial when it comes to sex, she thought as she poured herself another glass of champagne. Lately, her appetite for art and sex was voracious for

  the same reason – the opportunity to enjoy both was fleeting.

  (VIII)

  Charlotte knocked on the door of Belle’s cabin at exactly

  12:30 p.m. Bel e Greene received her as a snake charmer would

  engage a cobra; cautiously, so as not to be bitten. Hoping to

  dilute her venom, Bel e offered Charlotte a glass of champagne,

  “To toast a new friendship,” she said, as she poured the

  wine into crystal stemware.

  “To a new al iance,” Charlotte replied, as she picked up the

  glass and downed the contents with her eyes on Belle.

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  No amount of flattery will deter or distract this predator, Belle thought.

  The two indulged in small talk as the steward served their

  lunch. After he excused himself, Belle asked, “What is it that

  you want from me, Mrs. Bennett?”

  Getting right to the point, Charlotte said, “Is it true, what

  they say about you? Is it true that you are passing?”

  “Again, my background seems to be of extraordinary inter-

  est to you.” Belle said.

  “Because I require your assistance with a similar matter,”

  Charlotte said. “In some respects, I have taken my family as far

  as I can with my limited Richmond upbringing. That became

  apparent to me last night in the company of your fine friends.

  Due to my late son-in-law’s duplicity—he was also passing—my

  grandson finds himself in a predicament similar to yours. His

  mother is too weak and broken by the revelation of her late

  husband’s ancestry to assist in our family’s advancement, so

  Lance and I must ensure the family’s future.” Charlotte took

  a sip of tea and nibbled for a moment on a petit fours that had

  been served for dessert.

  “I could see at dinner last night that you recognize many

  aspects of my grandson’s potential,” she continued. “I would

  like you to help him maximize his potential, help him move,

  as you did, to the next social tier. You seem to have navigated

  it all so well. I need you to help him overcome disadvantages

  similar to your own. You can guide him, help him avoid the

  pitfalls.”

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  “Mrs. Bennett, you don’t know anything about me. Why

  do you think you can ask this of me?” Bel e tried to gauge what

  Charlotte was prepared to do.

  “You can teach Lance about the world you and your friends

  inhabit. Introduce him to people who can help him gain access

  into the same society you thrive in, so he can make his way as

  you have. You will do this because I can offer you the validation

  of the Richmond heritage you claim, and we both know, cannot

  confirm. I offer you confirmation in exchange for mentoring

  my grandson. And you will, of course, keep this arrangement

  just between us. Lance is never to know about it.” Charlotte

  poured herself another glass of champagne and waited for

  Belle’s response.

  For a few moments, Belle could only stare at Charlotte in

  astonishment.

  “You’re blackmailing me, Mrs. Bennett?” she final y asked.

  When Charlotte did not answer Belle said, “I am fully aware

  of the talk that surrounds me. It does not deter my friends

  and, though it may fuel my foes, I doubt your confirmation or

  contradiction will have any effect on my life.”

  Charlotte put her glass down, folded her hands in her lap

  and looked down for a few seconds. When she looked up at

  Belle, her eyes had gone from merely cold to menacing.

  “How certain are you of that statement, Miss G
reene? As

  I mentioned, my son-in-law was passing, unbeknownst to my

  daughter and me. If I had known, or even suspected, I would

  have exposed him. So you see, I would have absolutely no

  qualms about exposing you, if I have to.” Charlotte looked at

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  Bel e, not wanting to miss her reaction. “You have no idea what

  I am capable of when it comes to preserving my family’s future.

  My request is simple and costs you nothing. I have merely asked

  you to provide a few introductions for my grandson. You can

  do this for a young man you seem so enamored of.”

  Bel e had already decided to indulge in Lance while she was

  in Paris for the season. His attention was flattering, especially

  as she drifted into middle age, unmarried and childless. Even

  without the threat and burden of this woman, after taking

  Lance into her bed, she wanted him. He was young, hand-

  some, and eager to learn all that she knew about art and, as he

  demonstrated last night, the carnal aspects of life. He would

  not be her first protégé. What harm would it do to remain in

  his company while she was in Paris? It might benefit her rep-

  utation and Charlotte Bennett was right, Belle did not know

  what this woman was capable of.

  “You leave me with little choice,” Belle finally said.

  “However, did it occur to you to simply ask me to mentor

  your grandson, rather than make threats?”

  “No,” Charlotte said, in the same cold, flat tone that she

  had used to issue her threat. “No, it did not.”

  (IX)

  Charlotte returned to the family’s cabin, satisfied that the

  bargain she’d struck with Belle da Costa Green would benefit

  everyone concerned. She could not have crafted a more perfect

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  scenario, especial y since Bel e had not chal enged her. Matters of race are so easily exploited, she thought.

  Lance was lying on the sofa reading in the apartment salon

  when she opened the door. “So there you are,” Charlotte said,

  when she saw him. “What do you have there?”

  “Belle shared this book with me. It’s by an author she said

  is banned in America and some parts of Europe.” He closed

  the book and showed Charlotte its spine. “D.H. Lawrence.

  Have you heard of him?”

  Charlotte ignored Lance’s question. She was still a vora-

  cious reader, at another time she might have been interested,