A Prologue To Love (31 page)

“Shall we consider what we are here for?” asked Mr. Harkness, committing one of the first grammatical errors in his life. He was deeply upset.

“By all means,” said Maggie gustily. “I’ve got a party tonight; couple of government fellers, too. Time for the August pay-off, y’know. Big fellers.”

“Well, dear Caroline?” asked Mr. Swift, more and more concerned for the girl. “Or is it too much for you today?”

Caroline pulled up her sagging body. Her eyes were dull and heavy. “No, it won’t take long,” she said. “There is the matter of my owning fifty-one percent of the stock of Broome and Company — ”

“Right,” said Maggie. “I want to buy it. Johnny as much as promised me. He’s not chairman of the Board no longer. You don’t aim to be that, do you, Carrie?” she cackled. “Not that you’d have a chance, being a female.”

But Caroline looked only at the lawyers, who smiled at her hearteningly.

“I’m going to retain the stock,” she said.

Maggie scowled, and all her evil years immediately webbed and distorted her face. “You trying to go back on Johnny’s word to me?” she screamed. “A promise is a promise!”

Caroline turned her head slowly and looked at her. “He never told me of any promise,” she said coldly. “Nor was there any such promise or a document among his papers. I would respect a promise made by my father — if there had been any. I therefore do not believe there was.”

“You’re calling me a liar, you trollop?” Maggie cried.

Even Tandy, Harkness and Swift had to suppress involuntary smiles at this epithet. But Timothy smiled openly.

“I am saying,” said Caroline, her voice clearing, “that I found no such promise. My father was very meticulous; all his affairs are in absolute order. Therefore, I will go on the — assumption — that there was no promise. I am keeping the stock.”

“The hell with you,” said Maggie, breathing hard. A purple tint spread under her rouge. “The very hell with you, you ugly numskull. I want that stock.”

“You are not going to have it,” said Caroline. A little color returned to her lips. “I have other plans. I know I cannot be chairman of the Board or even a director. So I will appoint a director.”

The lawyers were immediately interested. They cleared their voices in anticipation.

“My cousin, Mr. Winslow,” said Caroline.

An astounded silence fell over them all. Timothy sat up very straight, electrified. He stared from Caroline to his employers and then at Maggie. He turned very white.

“At a salary of twenty thousand dollars a year,” Caroline continued.

Again they were very silent. Then Maggie breathed, “The hell you say.”

Mr. Tandy stirred. “Caroline,” he said. “Your cousin is very young. Hardly twenty-four. Oh, I know that even younger men are appointed to boards. But have you considered all the circumstances, my dear?”

“I have,” said Caroline. “I have given it a great deal of thought.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Tandy, stupefied.

Maggie began to smile. She tilted her head at Timothy. She almost forgot her own fury. She licked her cracked and painted lips.

Then Timothy spoke properly and in a subdued voice to his cousin. “Caroline, you know this is a startling, a wonderful, offer. I can’t be grateful enough. It’s true” — and he bowed apologetically to the older lawyers — “that I have been studying the Ames estate lately. After all, Mr. Ames was my uncle. Perhaps I should not have let my curiosity, my natural curiosity — ”

“Perfectly natural, dear boy,” murmured Mr. Harkness, dazed.

“Perfectly natural,” echoed his cousins.

“Damned natural,” said Maggie vigorously. “Who’s going to marry this lump of a girl, anyway? So, who’s her heirs? Got to keep money in the family.”

“Twenty thousand dollars salary,” said Mr. Swift.

“Of course,” said Timothy with a generous smile at his employers, “I will hope to remain with you, sirs.”

He concealed his exultation, and his really wild astonishment as to why Caroline should do this for him, Caroline who had always feared and hated him and had been hated in return. Little beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He said seriously, “You are sure you want this, Caroline?”

“I am.” The girl spoke firmly.

“Why don’t you give him some of the Broome stock too?” asked Maggie.

Caroline’s loathing eyes turned to her. “No,” she said. “He might sell some of it to you, and I’d no longer have the fifty-one percent.”

“Don’t trust him, eh?” Maggie chuckled. “Think he might sell it to me, eh?”

Then she was infuriated again. Her face became utterly repulsive in its ancient malice. “You are a bitch,” she said. “A nasty bitch. Going back on your father’s word. I won’t forget it. One of these days you’ll find hot coals in your drawers, and Maggie’ll have put them there. I don’t know Washington for nothing.”

“Nor do we,” Mr. Tandy was forced to say sternly. “Mrs. Broome, please do not threaten our client.”

Maggie jumped to her feet, swishing and rattling. “This girl’ll regret this day, and I don’t say such things without knowing ‘em!”

Before any of them could answer her she uttered a really blasting obscenity and trotted to the door, opened it, and slammed it behind her.

“Can she really injure me?” Caroline asked her cousin much later. “There’s no doubt she’ll try,” Timothy said. “But you must not let that worry you too much. The old boys in the office have their connections, too, and some of the connections are a great deal more formidable than old Maggie’s. Not that they do raw blackmail and bribery. Oh no. That would be barbarous. Gentlemen are above such things.” And he smiled his slight, cold smile.

“They could not prevent the government from seizing my father’s property,” said Caroline, freshly enraged.

“They didn’t manage that part of your father’s estate,” said Timothy. “Besides, dear Caroline, you must know that your father was engaged in something very illegal, and Tandy, Harkness and Swift won’t touch that sort of thing. But they could have advised you; they could, I think, have told you of the nice gold stream that went from your father to the men in Washington. Then you could have kept it up.”

“No,” said Caroline. “I would not. No, not under any circumstances. Timothy, do you think there is any possibility of demanding some financial consideration from — Washington?”

“No,” said Timothy. “You see, there is an investigation under way of people like your father. I’ll be frank about it. There are periodic investigations. A few of them are begun by really honest tyros in Washington, newly elected, who are out to save the country, and so on. But the majority are begun by men who want larger shares of the loot. If the loot doesn’t come to them fast enough they instigate investigations or they allow those already begun to proceed.”

Caroline and her cousin were having dinner in the dining room of the Gentlewoman’s Pension, and Timothy, who had accepted Caroline’s awkward invitation, thought the food and the general surroundings completely deplorable.

“You can be sure, however,” said Timothy, looking with suspicion at the sliver of dried halibut on his plate and the wilted slice of lemon, “that my dear employers won’t let anything happen to the rest of the estate.”

He glanced abstractedly around the dining room, which was beginning to fill with elderly fat or thin women tottering to their stark white tables, A hot dun-colored light seeped into the room through small windows hung with chintz in shades of sickly dark green and pale purple which fought feebly with the wallpaper of dull cabbage roses and viciously blue leaves. The Brussels carpeting was crimson and exhaled a dry if clean smell. Every table was centered with a glass bud vase filled with a single wax rosebud. An excellent place for a vacillating suicide to make up his mind finally, thought Timothy. But he could not be depressed.

He could not understand it; he could not fully accept it. He felt a unique emotion as he looked at the big young woman opposite him, with her sad face and sullen eyes and tight coronet of braids. This emotion was very close to profound gratitude; he had never been grateful to anyone before, and the sensation confused him a little. Cautious, as always, he continued to wonder why she had done this for him. He could not ask her directly. Then he had another thought and he put down his knife and fork and considered it with much agitation and disgust. Was she hoping to marry him? Good God! But why else?

“Don’t you like the halibut, Timothy?” asked Caroline, startled by his expression.

He reflected for a few moments. Yes, that was it; she wanted to marry him. Dear Mama, in some way, had suggested this to her. The tip of his tongue touched his lips. No marriage, and all this unbelievable good fortune would drift from his fingers and he would again be a mere junior law partner of those old pious dogs, Tandy, Harkness and Swift.

“Would you prefer the stew?” asked Caroline, who had never before cared what anyone else ate. Moreover, what did it matter? “It isn’t like your mother’s table,” she added, and the sullen eyes darkened.

Timothy watched her. “No,” he said warily. He carefully moistened his mouth again. “Mama has her own tastes. Have you dined with her recently?”

He was immediately interested to see that she colored deeply. Then he was certain that she intended to marry him; she had been talking to dear pretty Mama, whose neck he lusted to wring immediately.

“No,” said Caroline, so loudly and so harshly that several old ladies glanced at her with disapproval. She became aware of this and dropped her head, and her big, well-shaped hands clenched on the table. Then she said in a lower voice, “You must really know, Timothy, that your mother and I were never — never — ”

“Fond of each other,” said Timothy.

Caroline shook her head. She looked at Timothy, as if pleading for his forgiveness. “Forgive me, but I never liked your mother. You mustn’t ask me why, please.”

She picked up a slice of bread, regarded it blindly, put it down again. “Please don’t be offended, Timothy, but I can’t ever again visit your mother. It has nothing to do with you.”

What a mystery, thought Timothy with a little contempt for this fumbling girl, but now with some hope. Mama certainly was gay and frivolous; she was also charming. She had charmed everyone all her life except her son and her niece. So marriage was Caroline’s own idea. Timothy drank a little tepid coffee and wondered with a not inconsiderable despair how he was going to reject any offer so that it would not injure him and cause Caroline to change her mind.

“I wonder,” said Caroline, stammering a little, “how your mother will accept the offer I made to you, Timothy.”

Timothy lifted his eyes quickly. He waited. Caroline played with the silver beside her plate. “I hope,” she murmured, “that your mother won’t be too — annoyed. I’ve known almost all my life that she disliked you. I hope that her — annoyance — won’t be too hard for you to bear, Timothy.”

So that was it! Caroline had made him this offer, not because of his indubitable talents and his intelligence, but because she hated his mother and believed that her son’s sudden good fortune would enrage and frustrate Cynthia! What a crippled mind the girl has! thought Timothy. He smiled involuntarily. (Of course this raised another problem. Caroline must continue to believe that Cynthia would be disconcerted. He, Timothy, only hoped that his mother would have the good sense not to write Caroline a grateful letter when she received the news. He began to frame a cautioning letter to his mother in his mind; she was subtle; she would understand.)

“Will it be too hard, Timothy?” asked Caroline, wondering at his silence.

“What?” Timothy brought his attention back to her. “Oh, my mother. Well, Caroline dear, you know that Mama and I never have been congenial.”

Caroline smiled; it was not a pleasant or beautifying smile, and, seeing it, Timothy knew he had been right. His elation returned. He quite impulsively reached for her hand and briefly pressed it. “You’re very kind, Caroline,” he said.

Was she absolutely out of her mind, the poor thing? Timothy asked himself. Had she so little sophistication at her mature age, and after all that travel and all the complex personalities she must have met? She was not ignorant; she was not stupid; she was not without some perception. But she knew nothing, after all, of humanity. She was like a withered nut — meat in its fossilized shell. Thanks, of course, to lovely Uncle John.

He let himself meditate on the reason for Caroline’s hatred for Cynthia. He was perfectly sure that Caroline was too virginal, too innocent, to have guessed at the relationship between her father and aunt. Like all malicious people, he was intensely curious. The reason for Caroline’s hatred engrossed him, stimulated him. He wanted to know.

But before he could speak Caroline said, “How terrible it must be for you, Timothy, to have a mother who dislikes you so and who would resent any good fortune coming to you. It must have made all your life so barren. You see,” she added, “my father loved me. I have that to remember, that he loved me.”

Good God, thought Timothy with contempt. Can she really be that idiotic? He sighed. “Yes, dear Caroline,” he said gently, “you, at least, have some consolation.”

“Yes,” agreed Caroline.

Timothy delicately wiped his damp face. Caroline thought he did this to conceal his emotions properly. “I ought not to have said that to you,” she said. “It must be painful.” The dull black of her dress moved as she sighed. Timothy had a wild urge to laugh. “Would you mind changing the subject, dear Caroline?” he said in a subdued voice.

“Of course, of course!” she cried, and she smiled, and as so many others were affected, so was Timothy by the sudden beauty and shyness of that smile. He had never seen it before. It had such radiance; it was like quick and brilliant sunshine on a carved face of dark granite. He had not known she had such beautiful teeth. If only she knew about that smile, he thought with considerable astonishment, she’d practice it regularly just as other women would, and with amazing effect. He was a little taken aback. What if some other man were ever treated to that smile? With the fortune, Caroline would then become irresistible, and what of all that damned money then? It would pass to strangers instead of, rightfully, to Caroline’s blood kin. He was terribly disturbed. Marriage, for Caroline, had been taken for granted by him as an impossible contingency.

Caroline said, with the radiance of the smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth and eyes, “There are so many things I want to discuss with you, Timothy, for I will be leaving tomorrow morning. You see, I am not retaining Papa’s offices in New York any longer. Tandy, Harkness and Swift will dispose of all Papa’s enterprises here for me and will put the money into trusts and investments and liquid assets. You will, of course, help in these matters. I intend to concentrate on investments; Papa taught me thoroughly about them. He knew I wouldn’t care about the business enterprises, which are too much for me to supervise. But I do intend to keep the Boston office, which deals with the financing of local New England enterprises, such as textiles and shoes and fishing, and the collection of rent from property in Boston. Papa has a staff of seven men there in that office. I hope, Timothy,” she said with a return of her usual shyness, “that you will help me occasionally in Boston.”