Classic Love: 7 Vintage Romances (143 page)

“They’re keeping a death watch,” she cried, her eyes glittering. “They can’t believe I’m getting well. At my advanced age? They want to see with their own eyes what my condition is. They think I’ll take a turn for the worse, and, before I do, they want to show me how affected they are. Poor, sick Caroline! They want me to be aware of their deep love and anxiety.”

Her hands trembled with anger. “You know how they really are,” she cried. “You saw them, you’re a witness to the whole thing. Have they smothered me with attention before now?
Have
they?” she demanded, thrusting her head forward.

She didn’t wait for an answer, but rushed on. “Look at them now! Flowers, and calls, and all sickish smiles and saying how worried they were. Aren’t they fiendish?”

She ran out of breath and sank back against her pillows.

“Don’t think about all that,” I told her. “Don’t you want to get good and well? Your only concern should be Caroline Lestrange. Getting the full use of your arm back, and leaving this bed.”

“Oh, Jennie.” She sighed. “My God, in what strange and mysterious ways does He work, His wonders to perform. Do you realize that if you hadn’t been here, I’d be going through this all alone?”

“That’s silly,” I pointed out. “Tony’s here, and Emily. You’re not alone.”

“Tony. Emily.” She was unconvinced. “They’re no better than the others.”

“Why do you say that?”

Her glance was scornful. “Use your head,” she said impatiently. “Tony? Why do you suppose he visits me on occasional summers? To — ” She mimicked what he had said. “To spend large chunks of his time with a lonely old lady?”

“He said that in the heat of anger,” I reminded her. “If you’re so sure he expects a large legacy from you, he’d get it anyway, even if he didn’t visit you on occasional summers. Isn’t that so?”

She declined to answer, simply looked vexed and cross.

“And Emily waits on you hand and foot. If anything happened to you she’d be out of a job.”

“And wouldn’t need one,” Caroline said snappishly. “She knows I’ll take care of her financially.”

I gave up. I just kept reminding her that the important thing was to get well. And two days later she was up and around, the paralysis lessening with each passing day. Only the droop at the corner of her mouth remained, and privately I thought it would stay. And felt very sorry. One more blow to her vanity, a distortion of her face.

One day, in her sunroom, in front of Tony and Emily, she announced, with a small sadistic smile, that she had written her lawyer. We had been chatting idly, with Emily at her eternal petit point, and Tony — looking handsome and golden-haired in one of his regional Basque shirts — lolling decoratively, his long legs swung over the arm of his chair. He had brought Caroline a single, long-stemmed, crimson rose, all dewy with moisture, its blushing petals glistening. He had handed it to her with a bow.

“A beautiful flower to a beautiful lady,” he said, his arm sweeping across his chest like a cavalier. He was so good to look at that it made my heart ache at that moment. I really wondered, quite seriously, if I shouldn’t forget about Eric, and every other man, and fight tooth and claw to become the Viscountess Cavendish.

Certainly I would never meet anyone like Tony Cavendish again.

His troubadour gesture was wasted. Caroline, regarding the rose as if it had been Cleopatra’s asp, said, very cruelly and succinctly, “The beautiful flower has ugly thorns. And, my dear, you look frightfully silly in that grotesque position. Doesn’t he look utterly ridiculous, Jennie?”

He didn’t, but he did as he straightened up, trying to hold on to some dignity in the face of this affront. He looked foolish, awkward, and stunned. Hurt … and very, very angry.

I got up, not answering Caroline, and went over to Tony for the flower.

“I’ll put it in water,” I said. “And Tony, it
is
lovely.”

“And it comes from
my
garden,” Caroline interpolated, with an unpleasant smile. “So much for sentimental gifts from gallant young gentlemen.”

Her gaze swept us all, in a kind of jubilant, encompassing way. “You can’t fool Caroline, not for very long, at any rate, though some think they can make mush of me. Well, that simply is not true, and to those who think it is,
je m’en fiche
.”

She sat back, and her voice deepened. “Ah yes, and by the way,” she said — and that small, mean smile came over her face — “I’ve contacted my attorney; I’ve a few things to discuss with him. I shall put my house in order … once and for all. Maybe it’s just as well I almost died. It’s taught me a lesson. I’ve been a blind woman — blind and passive. Well, I’ve more brains than that. I’m not a complete idiot.”

If she expected an answer, she was doomed to disappointment. No one spoke. This seemed to needle her, and her voice rose.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” she said again. “And about time, just damned well about time.”

Emily went on with her petit point, scarcely glancing up, but I noted that her hands were moving more slowly. As for Anthony, he simply sat quietly, gazing out the window, his long legs stretched out indolently. And as if further goaded by the lack of interest in her announcement, Caroline’s voice rose shrilly.

“I have millions to leave,” she cried. “Millions! Maybe you weren’t sure of it before, but now you can be, because I’m telling you! And they won’t be left to ingrates! My money will go to someone who has given me joy and fulfillment in the last rotten years of my life
… do you understand, Jennie?
And the hell with the rest of them.”

She paused for breath, her face dark with anger and passion. Then she rushed on. “I’ve learned what it means to be unloved and disregarded. I’ve learned that well. I know the difference, now, between hypocrisy and genuine affection. And now it’s time to right the wrong.”

She turned slowly, and gave me a long, meaningful look. This was followed by a slow, satisfied smile as she stared at each of the others in turn, and then she looked back at me again. “Kindness and decency
does
pay,” she said, almost in a whisper. “And, Jennie, you
are
kind, you
are
decent.”

I was conscious of going pale, and also conscious of a sudden, dead quiet in the room. No one said anything. No one had to. Caroline’s meaning was clear.

Why, she’s gone crazy, I thought. Plumb crazy. Her illness has made her irrational and maudlin. She was off the deep end, she was demented.

I looked back at her, speechless. Her face was a mask of revenge. I thought, she’s sick, and she doesn’t know what she’s saying, what she’s doing.

I thought, why she’s an unutterably selfish woman.

I tried to amend my judgment.

She was a sick woman. She had been very sick and she was, apparently, far from well now.

But I couldn’t help my distaste. She had money and power, and in that moment I was appalled at her capriciousness, her despotism. I thought her vicious and corrupt. That her vast means, and the use she could make of them, could let her play God was loathsome to me. That she could manipulate other human beings, watch them suffer, made me almost physically ill.

I thought of Lord Acton’s axiom. “Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“I shall want to go to my room now,” she said briskly, having delivered her bombshell. Her eyes swept our faces: she was brilliant with triumph. Emily, trembling with bitter rage, automatically rose to help her.

Caroline put out an autocratic hand.

“Not you,” she said contemptuously, and turned to me. Her voice softening, she said, “You, Jennie. Please, my dear.”

I helped her up the stairs. She pressed close to me, fondly, dependently, with an almost wooing, fatuous smile on her face. “You’ve been so good to me,” she said, almost babbling. “So good, and dear, and faithful. Dear Jennie, come, let me take your arm, there’s a dear girl.”

And for the first time her proximity was unpleasant to me. She had just told me — substantially — that she wanted to make me an heiress, and had so informed the others. Yet she had lost something in so doing … something that should have been precious to her. My real affection, perhaps even love.

Didn’t Caroline Lestrange know that such things couldn’t be bought? That they were given freely, if at all, and no reward on earth could purchase them?

Apparently not.

If she expected me to show gratitude, to fawn on her, or frame a few words of thanks, she was mistaken. I simply helped her onto the bed, forced myself to kiss her upturned cheek, and after asking her if there was anything else she wanted, took my leave.

I closed the door behind me, and it was like closing a portal on something that had meant much to me. I felt sorry and ill and sad, because I had the impression that, snatched from the jaws of death, she had nevertheless been deprived of something that I knew had been there before — a definite decency and goodness of spirit. A martinet she might have been, but not a merciless despot.

I felt that she would never be, ever again, the Caroline Lestrange I had met and liked all those weeks ago. That
that
Caroline had died, and only her body remained. It was as if her soul had crossed over, to some nameless region, leaving the purely physical part of her here on earth.

On the following day, Garrison entered the house and bounded upstairs as I was preparing to leave. I had visited with Caroline, who had suffered a minor setback and taken to her bed once more. The doctor claimed it was simply due to her “rushing things,” and said there had been a slight relapse in her progress. Tony and I were exchanging a few words in the hall when we heard raised voices.

First it was mainly Caroline’s voice. Angry, loud, and harsh. I thought, oh dear, what is it now? And then, as Tony and I fell silent, Garrison’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Absolute insanity,” we heard him say. “It leads me, Caroline, to wonder about the soundness of your mind.”

Then Caroline again: “So that’s it! The old and well-worn ploy. The age-old expediency on the part of relatives whenever money is concerned. So you think you’ll have me committed, do you. Well, let me tell you — ”

Garrison’s voice was thick and furious. The urbane and gentlemanly Garrison Lestrange was practically shouting; what he said was so distinct that he could have been beside us. “I’ve heard about things like this; who hasn’t? Some stranger entering the picture and — ”

His voice rose even further. “But such opportunism I’ve never personally witnessed. A girl you had no idea existed a few weeks ago … and now you threaten to — ”

Tony, seeing my shocked reaction, put a hand on my arm. “Easy does it,” he said quietly. “Take it whence it comes, love.”

“He’s talking about me.”

“Pay no attention. Why don’t you run along now. I’ll be over to see you later. Run along now, that’s a good girl.”

But I couldn’t. I had to stay there, listening … listening to the rest. The conversation — the quarrel, the fight — concerning me went on and on. Caroline began to shriek and swear, and Garrison got totally out of control. I hadn’t imagined he could be like that.

The word “opportunism” was voiced several times. In regard to me. “That opportunistic young woman … taking advantage … sheer opportunism …”

I knew I was white-faced. I said, staring at Anthony, “My God, I can’t stay here after this. I’m leaving. I’m leaving today, within the hour.”

“The hell you are,” he said. “Let it go in one ear and out the other. He wants you to hear, don’t you realize that? It’s his way of getting rid of you. He’s sure, now, that you’ll go. I think, for some time, he’s been trying to accomplish that. But don’t let it throw you. He can’t physically harm you, after all.”

The words that leapt to my mind said themselves out loud. “He can’t? Someone physically harmed me just recently. Someone tried to — ”

I saw his eyes sharpen, then he whistled between his teeth. “It’s true he was in the house at the time,” he agreed, then tried to pooh pooh it. “Still — it isn’t possible, Jan. He wouldn’t dare to — ”

“Someone dared to!”

“Garrison?”

“Whatever … whoever … the mission has been accomplished. I will not stay in this place where — ”

I had dashed to the door, and now stepped outside, where I almost knocked young Tom down as I collided with him. The boy was standing there white-faced, and I knew at once that he, too, had overheard his father. The windows, naturally, were wide open, and the whole wretched thing had probably filtered down to him from above.

He stared at me, gulped, looked away and then back at me. “I just want to say,” he said rapidly, “that my father doesn’t mean what he’s saying. He doesn’t, Jan. When he loses his temper he says crazy things. He doesn’t often lose his temper. But when he does …”

He said, fiercely, “I’m going upstairs and have it out with him.”

“No, Tom, don’t. I won’t have you in on this. I’m sorry you overheard. I’m sorry about everything. I’ll bow out of the picture. I don’t belong here, I know that now.”

“If you leave,” he said, “it would be worse. Then Caroline would do something desperate. I don’t know what she’d do. Maybe a law suit, or … or she’d kill herself as a revenge against him … against all of the family. It would be like one of those awful things you read in the newspapers.”

“Tom, I — ”

“Believe me,” he cried. “Believe me! My father doesn’t really want a scandal … nobody wants a scandal.”

He drew himself up, and what he said next wasn’t censorious or accusatory: it was simply sober and quiet.

“You shouldn’t have listened,” he said. “When you heard what it was about, you should have gone off, and not listened any more.”

I looked back at him. He was so adult suddenly, so precociously wise. It must have been a rotten thing for him to hear too, almost as traumatic as for me, his father bedeviling a sick woman.

I felt he had been dirtied by it, as I had been dirtied.

“You won’t go?” he asked, after a while.

“I don’t know. I have to think about it. But I will think about it, I promise you. I promise to take everything into consideration, Tom.”