Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (83 page)

Judith was facing the window that overlooked
the dark river. Richard had stopped and stood behind her. He
towered above her short, plump body. I couldn’t see their
expressions, but I could feel the significance of the moment and
the arduous weight of their union. I waited, holding my breath, to
see where I stood, what I meant to Richard - if I truly meant
anything at all. If Judith won out and got what she demanded, I
would surely have to leave to find my own way, and hope my past
wasn’t waiting to catch up to me. I needed Richard to stay fixated
on me, to hold onto the dream of making me famous with my beauty. I
was his ticket to a dream he must have been holding onto, a dream
he wished for long before he ever laid eyes on Judith or me. It was
a dream he had planned to fulfill with Vivienne, no doubt; a dream
that was shattered the day she was killed. Richard must have been
waiting many years for another chance.

It was apparent his own wife didn’t want him
to obtain happiness, other than through her. It was their marriage,
her money, and in her mind, that should satisfy Richard and make
him content. But I knew better. I remembered everything Momma had
told me since I was a young girl. A man had to live his dream; it
was sewn into his soul long before he met the woman he would choose
to stand by him. Only a great woman, the woman he was completely in
love with, who stood unconditionally by his side, could make the
dream he so badly yearned for come true. Their union kept the
brilliance of his dream alive, and did not put it out like water to
a fire.

“Judith, you knew what I was when we met. I
have sacrificed so much for you already. Drawing is my life. It is
my passion. Please don’t take that away from me.” He spoke softly,
then gently placed his hands on her shoulders. Judith quickly spun
around, fell into his arms, and cried onto his chest like a little
girl. “Oh, Richard, don’t you see! It pains me to see how that girl
is the way to your heart. I can never be as beautiful as she is, as
Vivienne was.”

Richard hushed her the way he had done to me
on my frightened nights, but instead of holding her the way a
father should a child, his lips lowered and pressed firmly onto
hers. I knew he didn’t love her as Daddy loved Momma. He simply
could not. Richard was clearly kissing Judith to appease her, to
make her feel loved and wanted, so he could continue to keep me.
When he undressed her and led her to the bed, the glow of the lamp
fell onto Richard’s face, and I could see the blank, vacant look in
his eyes. His mind appeared far away, probably on one of those
floozy girls he played around with behind his wife’s back.

When I was younger, what a man did with a
woman frightened me so much that I feared ever being married. How
Warren took me left a sick feeling in my stomach I could never
shake. Still, watching Richard make love to his wife intrigued and
fascinated me, left me flushed, and filled me with a yearning I
easily recalled when I dreamed of Heath, and regrettably had felt
long ago for Warren Stone.

When I had seen enough, I eased the door
closed and hurried away, so as not to hear Judith’s moans of
pleasure. Visions of Richard on top of her lingered with me long
past the evening and into the night, and I restlessly tossed and
turned in a bed I’d found to curl up in, hoping it was a vacant
bed, for no one had told me where I was allowed to sleep.

Morning came with heavy rain and left with
overcast skies. Outside, the vast lawns were drenched, and the
guests were scattered, lingering about inside. When I came down for
breakfast, nearly everyone had eaten already, though a servant
seated me and informed me a plate was left on the stove. I was
grateful, and didn’t realize Judith and Richard would be joining me
in the massive dining hall as I began to scarf down my eggs and
bacon.

“Good morning, Lillian,” Richard greeted, as
he held out the chair for his wife, who was beaming with happiness
from the affection her husband had showered on her the night
before. I could feel the heat from my face and wondered if my blush
was noticeable.

“Only coffee for me,” he said to the woman
servant.

“Eggs and fruit for me, Nanette,” Judith
said, and for the first time her gaze upon me was light and
unrestrained, instead of scornful and full of contempt.

“Richard and I have been talking, and I just
want to say, Lillian, your company is most welcomed.”

Richard beamed with delight, though his smile
revealed a smugness that looked as though he had succeeded in
winning first prize at a turkey shoot.

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker. I am grateful both
you and your husband have allowed me to stay on.”

Judith seemed pleased, content, and easily
won over by Richard’s magnetism and passion. It was obvious how
Richard captivated Judith, an overweight, older woman who could
never have found such an attractive man if it weren’t for her
enormous wealth.

The guests went riding that day after the
nasty weather had led the way for beautiful warm summer air and
pale blue skies. I stayed behind, although Richard had encouraged
me to join them. I had never ridden a horse before, except when I
was taken by Warren or when I was captured by the constable and
Eugenia Arrington. Horse riding was nothing but a bad memory for
me.

That evening dinner went rather smoothly - no
squabbles, fights, or even a mild argument. Richard and Sterling
got along famously, and toasted one another as we all gathered on
the west terrace for after-dinner drinks and several different law
games, including croquet. When it became too dark to play any
longer and the older sisters grew tired from the long day, I left
with Rachael, Sterling, and Richard to drink, sing silly songs, and
dance as Rachael sat down at the piano in the ballroom. I led a
number of old sailor songs I had heard all my life. Surprisingly,
Rachael knew most of them, and we taught the distinguished men the
words.

“
Now come on young sailors and listen to
me

Way, hey, blow the man down

Come on young sailors and listen to me

Give me some time to blow the man down…”

The night was fun and merry, and the drinks
flowed down my throat, one after another. Sterling and Richard both
took turns dancing with me, then with each other, causing Rachael
and me to double over laughing. They were silly and childish and
more drunk than most seamen who frequented the taverns in the
harbors of Maine. We were loud and boisterous, even when we
sauntered outside and continued our drinking and songs under the
light of the summer moon. And typical of most endings to such
nights of gaiety and merriment, just as it was in most taverns, a
fight was destined to break out.

“Take your hands off my wife,” Sterling
slurred, and stumbled over to where Richard held Rachael in his
arms, with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a cigar in
another.

“Oh, Sterling, stop it. We’re just playing,”
she laughed, and threw her arms around Richard’s neck.

Sterling dropped the bottle and reached for
Rachael, then yanked her out of Richard’s arms.

“You’re a drunken fool, brother. Go to bed,”
Richard snapped. He was appeared to hold his liquor slightly better
than Sterling.

Sterling didn’t waste a minute before he
threw a punch at Richard, sending him toppling over. Rachael wanted
no part of the sibling rivalry and motioned for me to get inside.
“Men are just handsome boys in suits,” she said flatly. We left
them on the lawn, rolling around and trying to punch each other
with mighty blows.

Rachael and I parted ways in the center hall.
She was tired. Her eyes were closed to small slits, and she
stumbled about worse than I. Before she turned to go, she said in a
hushed voice next to my ear, “Don’t tell a single soul, but I still
love Richard.”

All night, my dreams revealed different
frightening scenarios in my mind. Rachael was married to Richard
and I was married to Sterling. Then Judith was with Warren; they
were lovers. I dreamt of them together in bed, Warren was on top of
her as Richard had been. Then I was underneath Warren, my hands
held back by Eugenia as he pushed himself into me, putting an
unholy child inside of me to grow. Then Heath appeared in the cabin
where Warren and I had lived and saw me in bed with Warren. He
noticed my growing belly and he was disgusted, revolted, and
regretted the day he’d ever met me.

I woke up in a pool of sweat and began to
cry. When I realized it was a dream, all my emotions came flooding
out, and I buried my head in my pillow to muffle my uncontrollable
sobs. When I was all cried out, when my chest hurt too much to
release another sorrowful moan, I dressed and descended the stairs.
To my surprise, Richard was waiting for me, the coach ready to take
us back to the city.

“I was just about to send someone to bring
you down. We’re ready to go,” he said, and he lifted me inside the
coach.

“Judith . . . isn’t she coming?” I asked, as
he sat down and closed the door.

“Next week. Her cousin Sarah from Boston is
coming for a visit this week.”

Boston rang familiar in my mind, and once
again a vision of Heath flashed before me, though it had grown
harder as the years passed to remember what he looked like. I
recalled when I first arrived on Jasper Island Heath telling me his
family was originally from Boston and that when he was older, he
would return and become a doctor. Boston was where he planned to go
to university and eventually open his own practice. Heath was so
inspired . . . couldn’t wait for the day he would be called Doctor
Dalton. His dreams and ambitions were not unlike Richard’s. Their
passion was evident, and I envied such fortitude.

All the way back to the city, as Richard
described our days to come - the sketches, the magazine, the
journey we were about to embark upon - I wondered if perhaps I
could latch onto his enthusiasm and find a way to become excited at
the prospect of my face becoming famous. I thought of my dreams as
a child, how I longed to travel the world and explore new customs.
I realized that if I did have success, as Richard had promised I
would, then my own dreams could come true. I would make enough
money to go home. Then from Jasper Island I would set out to
England, France, and Italy. It could have been that my chance
meeting with Richard wasn’t meant only to save me from the clutches
of the laws of the South, but to send me soaring high above, to
achieve great success, and finally have everything I had never
believed I was entitled to.

I wasn’t sure what life had in store for me,
though Richard seemed overwhelmingly confident that my beauty, my
face, would be among the most famous in the world.

“Trust me. Soon you will not go anywhere
without being recognized. Your image will be desired by every
fashion magazine,” Richard said, just as the coach stopped before
the city mansion.

Still, I didn’t understand how he planned to
make me famous, yet keep me from the arms of the law that was
searching high and low for me. Rachael told me on the night we were
having fun and drinking that Richard wasn’t going to use Vivienne
as my name. “Judith won’t hear of it. It was a ridiculous idea, in
any case,” she said, as she handed me several dresses she insisted
I take back to the city with me.

“Can you tell me more about her . . . about
Vivienne?” I asked.

“Another time, Lillian.” She sighed heavily.
“Another time.”

* * *

The next morning Richard had me up at
summer’s early light, excited to take advantage of the brilliant
day and begin his new sketch to present to Mr. Hudson later that
afternoon. I was inclined as I sat for him to ask how he planned to
market my face without exposing me to the law. They were looking
for me, and how much easier could he make it than by plastering my
face on the cover of a renowned magazine.

As always when he was drawing, he didn’t talk
much. He would twist his lips so they became distorted, his eyes
would narrow onto me, looking at me closely, intent on capturing
every detail of my face, from the small dimples in my cheeks to the
subtle cleft in my chin, which I had unfortunately inherited from
my father . . . my real father. Richard was certain to portray my
“dazzling eyes,
”
as he called them, my high, pronounced
cheekbones, and my naturally full lips.

While he drew, I pondered an inquisition.
Should I demand to know how he was going to continue to promote my
fame, yet all the while keep me safe? Would I dare challenge the
man, the only person who was looking out for me? Richard was mild
mannered and even tempered, and I didn’t think my questions would
trigger anger. But would he begrudge my lack of confidence in him?
I wondered . . .

The day dragged on, and the portrait was
taking so long I grew tired, restless, and hungry. I hadn’t eaten
any breakfast.

“Can’t we stop for a while? It’s lunch time,”
I pleaded. He didn’t look up; he was so deep in his work that he
hadn’t heard me. So I stood up.

“Please don’t change position like that. Sit
back down where I indicated. Turn your head down and away from the
sunlight. I’m almost finished. Then you can come see how
magnificent it is.”

I plopped back down, though I didn’t position
myself as he wanted. That’s when he grew frustrated with me. He had
no idea how difficult it was for me to sit motionless for hours,
without conversation . . . without a moment to stretch my neck.

“You’re not doing as I ask,” Richard
complained, and that was when I’d had enough.

“I’m hungry and tired of sitting here. What’s
the use anyway, Richard. You and I both know you can’t go through
with this.”

With a frown, Richard put down his pencil and
asked, “What do you mean by that?”