Legacy of Secrets (71 page)

Back in Boston, the papers were signed and Liam finally had money of his own; money he did not have to ask his mother for. He was free.

He told his mother he was taking a little trip. “I need to get away, to think things out,” he said while she watched him nervously.

“But where are you going?” Lily demanded. “I’ll come with you. You can’t just go off alone like that.”

“I shall be back in a couple of weeks,” he said, picking up his bag and striding to the door.

“Liam,” she cried. “Come back here at once.”

“See you soon, Mother,” he called, opening the door.

“At least tell me where you are going,” she said, bewildered.

“To Chicago,” he said, looking her in the eye. “To see old friends.”

Liam took the train to Chicago. He hung out of the window as it pulled into the station and, emerging from the clouds of steam, he saw Jennie anxiously searching the carriages for him.

“Jennie. Over here,” he cried, and her face lit up. She ran toward him and he was out of the carriage before the train even stopped. They stood and looked at each other, assessing the difference two years and new experiences had made on them, and she heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. You haven’t changed.”

“And neither have you. Except you’ve gotten even prettier.”

They stepped into each other’s arms and he knew it was all right. Time had passed, but nothing had changed between them.

“Will you marry me?” he murmured in her ear, dropping kisses all over her dear little face.

“Of course I will,” she breathed happily. “We shall never be apart again. No matter what anyone says.”

She said that because she knew what her parents had planned for her. Her father knew exactly who she was going to marry: he had chosen the fellow himself. Italian, of
course, from a family similar to her own, only vastly richer and more successful. It was the way things had always been done in Italian families, and no matter how educated and liberated they were in the new country, a daughter was expected to follow the old ways when it came to marriage.

They went to the Edgewater Beach Hotel because Liam was only used to staying at the best places and he didn’t know about money and economy. Jennie told him about her father’s plans for her and said, desperately, “You only just got back in time, Liam. I just can’t marry him. He’s twice my age and I don’t even like him. Besides, I’m in love with you. Everything I said to you in my letters is true. I’ve thought of you every single day, and every night before I went to sleep. I even dreamed about you. It was destiny that brought us together, and once that happens you are together forever.”

She looked miserably at him. Her golden hair was swept up at the sides and her cheeks were pink from the cold and her amber eyes round with sincerity. He squeezed her hand, thinking about what to do. “I shall ask your father’s permission to marry you,” he said firmly. “If he says no, then I’ll take you home with me.”

“And what about your mother?” she asked, apprehensively, remembering Lily’s possessiveness.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” he replied. “When I tell my mother I’m going to marry you, she will have no choice but to agree. And anyway, she’s sure to love you because I do.”

Jenny didn’t quite believe it, but she hoped for the best, and they took a cab across town to her home. “Mama, Papa,” she said, holding Liam’s hand and pulling him into the parlor. “This is Liam Adams. You remember, we met in Italy, at Lake Como.”

“So? What’s he doing here in my house now?” Mr. Desanto asked, looking suspiciously at them.

“We were just about to have dinner,” Mrs. Desanto said, bustling forward. “Maybe you’d like to join us.”

“Wait.” Mr. Desanto held up a commanding hand. “I
wanna know why he’s here. Como’s a long way from Chicago, and a long time ago.”

Liam said, meeting his gaze squarely, “The fact is, sir, that I have come to ask your permission to marry Jennie.”

“My daughter? Marry you?” Mr. Desanto’s face turned the color of beets and his eyes almost disappeared into slits of fury.

“And what does your mother think of this?” Mrs. Desanto demanded, remembering Lily only too well.

“She doesn’t know yet,” Liam admitted. “But I’m sure she will be pleased to gain such a beautiful daughter-in-law. I have money of my own, sir,” he added hastily, lest they think him penniless and unable to look after her.

“Money? How much money?” Desanto took a menacing step closer.

“Well, ten thousand dollars, sir.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Desanto turned to his wife and laughed scornfully. “The aristocrat has money.
Ten thousand whole dollars.
Bah, the man my daughter is marrying can buy and sell your family ten times over. To him ten thousand dollars is chicken feed. Now get outa any house and stay away from my girl. Y’hear me?” He stepped closer, his face now magenta with anger. Jennie dragged Liam hurriedly into the hall.

“Go now,” she whispered. “Wait for me at the Edgewater Beach.” She pushed him out the door and closed it firmly, and Liam stood undecided on the steps. He wanted to go back in and argue his case, but he knew it was useless and so he returned to the hotel to wait.

Jennie arrived three hours later, carrying a small bag. “They locked me in my room,” she said breathlessly, “but they forgot about the balcony and the steps leading onto the terrace. It was easy to escape.” She leaned her elbows on the table and smiled at him. “What now?”

“The next train out of here.” He grabbed her bag and his own and they fled to the station and just caught the train leaving for New York.

They huddled, exhausted, in their compartment, their
arms around each other. They were together again and that was all that mattered.

“What will your father do?” he asked her worriedly while they were in New York waiting for the Boston train.

“He will have disowned me by now,” she said somberly. “I have dishonored his name and that’s the end of it.”

He glanced anxiously at her. “I’m sorry, Jennie.”

She shrugged and said philosophically, “It’s better to be disowned than be forced to marry a man I don’t love.”

It was dusk when they finally arrived in Boston. The lights were on in the house on Mount Vernon Street and Liam took Jennie’s hand as he led her inside. She stared around, amazed by its grandeur. “If Papa had known you were this rich he would maybe have said yes,” she whispered.

“I’m not rich, my mother is,” he whispered back. “Don’t worry, he’ll be all right once we are married though. I’m sure of it.”

“Liam,” Lily said from the top of the stairs, and they both looked up at her. “Who is that with you?” she asked, surprised.

“An old friend, Mother. It’s Jennie Desanto. Remember, we met at Lake Como?”

“Of course I remember.” She glided, soft-footed, down the stairs. “And what is Miss Desanto doing in Boston?”

“I brought her to see you, Mother. All the way from Chicago,” Liam said eagerly.

“Chicago? So that’s why you went there.” She turned and walked into the library. “You might as well come in here,” she said over her shoulder. “This is where all the dramas occur in our household. And I have the feeling that there is going to be a drama tonight. Am I correct, Liam?”

She sat in the big red leather wing chair and they stood in front of her. She inspected Jennie quickly up and down, and Jennie’s cheeks burned as she saw the look in her eyes. Liam gripped her hand tighter as he said, “I’ve brought Jennie here to meet you again, Mother, because I love her
and I’m going to marry her. And I’m sure you’ll love her, too, once you get to know her.”

“Would you mind leaving us alone,” Lily said. Jennie glanced anxiously at Liam and then hurried from the room and closed the door. She went to sit on a chair in the hall, staring at the family portraits, straining her ears for the sound of their voices. She knew Lily hated her for taking Liam away from her, but she had burned her bridges and she prayed Liam would be strong enough to stand up to his mother and burn his.

Lily looked at her son and anger welled up inside her. All she had worked for all these years was being stolen from her by a little girl from an upstart Italian peasant family. How dare they, she asked herself, staring at her son, standing with his hands clasped behind his back like a naughty boy waiting for his sentence.

“You will not marry that girl,” she said decisively. “She is completely unsuitable. Do you forget, Liam, that you are a Porter Adams? You have a family name and tradition to uphold. This liaison is impossible. Send her home to Chicago. Tell her I will pay her, five, no,
ten
thousand dollars to leave you alone. There are a hundred beautiful girls in Boston and New York, from good families like your own, who would be only too pleased to marry you. Oh, I admit maybe I’ve been selfish keeping you all to myself, but now things will change. We shall go tomorrow to New York, we shall open up the house there, and we shall start to entertain again. We’ll invite young people for you, Liam.”

“Mother, please …”

“Do not argue, Liam. I shall call the bank manager at home now, and tell him to send ten thousand dollars around right away. You will give it to the girl and she will be on her way, well pleased, I have no doubt.”

“Mother, are you crazy?” Liam said, white-faced. “You haven’t even listened to what I said, have you?” he shouted angrily. “You never have. All these years you have just gone on doing exactly what you want to do, running my life as well as your own. Or maybe
instead
of your own. Yes,
that’s the truth of it, isn’t it, Mother? You tried to use my life to make up for the inadequacies of your own. Well, no more. I’m marrying Jennie, and that’s all there is to it.”

“Think of what you’re leaving, Liam,” she cried. “Your inheritance, the houses, the money. You have no idea how wealthy you will be one day.”

“Keep it,” he said scornfully, striding to the door. “Buy yourself a new life with it, Mother.”

“Wait.” She ran to the cabinet near the door that held a pair of beautiful old Purdey shotguns. She took one out and checked the chamber while he watched her, stunned. Then she opened the door and walked past him into the hall. Ignoring Jennie, sitting on a chair by the door, she walked slowly up the stairs, carrying the loaded shotgun.

She paused on the landing. “If you leave this house for that girl, Liam, I will kill myself,” she said, her voice trembling. “The choice is yours.”

She walked along the landing toward her room, stopping when she heard the door open. She leaned over the banister and saw Liam take Jennie’s hand.

He looked up at her white-faced. “I refuse to be blackmailed,” he said curtly. “Good-bye, Mother.”

Lily watched her life, her love, her reason for being, walk to the door and something seemed to snap inside her head. All she had fought to achieve in her shattered life was suddenly reduced to nothing again. “You bastard,” she hissed. “Yes, that’s what you are. You’re no Porter Adams. You are an O’Keeffe, through and through. Exactly like your bastard of a father.”

Liam stared at her with horror. He turned to Jennie and put his arm around her. Then they walked out of the house and closed the door.

Lily dropped the shotgun and ran down the stairs after him. She sped across the hall and flung open the door and ran down the steps into the street. But the darkness had already swallowed him up, as if he had never existed.

L
ILY DID WHAT SHE ALWAYS DID
when she was in trouble. She called Ned. “You must stop him,” she cried, hysterical with fear. “He cannot marry her. You must get him back, Ned.”

“But Lily, I’m in New York,” he said worriedly. “What can I do?”

“That’s exactly where he’s going, I’m sure of it. At this time of night there’s only the last train to New York.”

“I’ll go to the station,” he promised. “I’ll do what I can, Lily. But Liam is twenty-one now. He’s of age, and he’s a man in love. You know how that is, Lily. It’s a tough thing to fight.”

“You
must,”
she said desperately. “Just stop him, Ned, whatever you have to do.”

W
HEN
N
ED HAD BEEN NAMED CORESPONDENT
in Lily’s divorce all those years ago, Juliet had screamed and stormed and raged through their wonderful country house, and through their spectacular Manhattan apartment, threatening suicide and murder, or both, but she had known she was fighting a losing battle. It was the way it always had been: when Lily wanted Ned, he was there. Their stage career continued together as successfully as it always had, but the rows left their fellow players gasping, while at home their children scrunched up their eyes so as not to see their parents’ angry faces and clapped their hands over their ears so as not to hear their bitter words.

Finally, Juliet had left him. She kept the country house and Ned kept the Manhattan apartment and every summer Ned took the children to Nantucket for the holidays. He had bought Sea Mist Cottage next door for Lily so that there would be no scandal about her staying alone with him in his house, but she had only gone there occasionally; she was too restless for so much peace and quiet.

Ned was giving a dinner party in his splendid Manhattan apartment for the backers of his new show when she called. He apologized to them, pleading an emergency, and left immediately for Grand Central. He strode the cold platform waiting for the train, and when it finally came he saw
that Lily’s guess had been right. Liam was with a small blond girl, and he looked tired and grim-faced. He glanced up at Ned, surprised.