Darkest Hour (20 page)

A Sweet Sixteen party was exciting enough, but one to be held in the honor of a pair of twins was exceptionally so. Everyone was talking about it. Invi-tations were as precious as gold. At school, all the boys and all the girls who wanted to be invited began buttering up the twins.

Plans were being made to turn the Thompsons' great entryway into a grand ballroom. A professional decorator was hired to drape crepe paper streamers and balls, as well as lights and tinsel. Every day Mrs. Thompson added something new to the fabulous menu, but besides being the best feast of the year, there would be a real orchestra: professional musicians to play dance music. There were sure to be games and contests with the evening capped by the cutting of what promised to be the biggest birthday cake ever made in Virginia. After all, it was a cake for two Sweet Sixteen girls, not one.

For a while I thought Mamma would actually attend. Every day after school, I rushed to tell her new details I'd heard about the party, elaborating on the things Niles told me, and most days she grew excited. One day she even looked through her wardrobe and then decided she needed something new, something more fashionable to wear and began planning a shopping trip.

That afternoon I had gotten her so enthusiastic, she went to her vanity table and actually began working on her hair and her makeup. She was very concerned about the new styles, so I walked to Upland Station and got a copy of one of the latest fashion magazines, but when I brought it back and showed it to her, she seemed distracted. I had to remind her why we were concerned about our clothes and hair.

"Oh, yes," she said, the memory revived. "We'll go shopping for new dresses and new shoes," she promised, but whenever I reminded her in the days that followed, she would simply smile and say, "Tomorrow. We'll do it tomorrow."

Tomorrow never came. She would either forget or fall into one of her melancholy states. And then, she became horribly confused and whenever I mentioned the Thompsons' Sweet Sixteen party, she began to talk about a similar party for Violet.

Two days before the party, I went to see Papa in his office and told him how Mamma was behaving. I practically begged him to do something.

"If she goes out and meets people again, Papa, it will help her."

"Party?" he said.

"The Thompson twins' Sweet Sixteen party, Papa. Everyone's going. Don't you remember?" I asked, my voice filled with desperation.

He shook his head.

"You think all I got to do these days is worry about some silly birthday celebration? When did you say this was?" he asked.

"This Saturday night, Papa. We got the invitation a while ago," I said. An empty feeling began to swirl around at the bottom of my stomach.

"This Saturday night? I can't attend," he declared. "I won't be back from my business trip until Sunday morning."

"But Papa . . . who'll take Mamma and Emily and me?"

"I doubt your mother will go," he said. "If Emily goes, you can attend. That way you'll be properly chaperoned, but if she doesn't go, you don't go," he declared firmly.

"Papa. This is the most important party of the . . . of the year. Every one of my friends at school are going and all the families around here are attending."

"It's a party," he said, "isn't it? You're not old enough to go on your own. I'll speak to Emily about it and leave instructions," he said.

"But Papa, Emily doesn't like parties . . . she doesn't even have a proper dress or shoes and . . ."

"That's not my fault," he said. "You got only one older sister and unfortunately, your mother is not well these days."

"Then why are you going away again?" I snapped back, far more quickly and more sharply than I had intended, but I was desperate, frustrated and angry and the words just popped out on their own.

Papa's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. His face turned as crimson as a cherry and he rose out of his seat with a fury that sent me stumbling backward until I bumped into a high-backed chair. He looked like he would explode, parts of him going every which way.

"How dare you speak to me that way! How dare you be insolent!" he roared and came around his desk.

I cowered quickly, sitting in the chair. "I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to be insolent," I cried, the tears flowing before he had a chance to raise his arm. My crying calmed the storm raging in him and he simply stood fuming over me for a moment.

Then, in a controlled but still very wrathful tone of voice, he pointed to the door and said, "March yourself right up to your room and shut yourself in there until I give you permission to come out, hear? I don't want you even to go to school until I say so."

"But Papa—"

"You're not to leave that room!" he ordered. I looked down quickly. "Upstairs!"

Slowly, I rose and inched by him, my head still lowered. He followed me to the doorway.

"Go on, get up there and close that door. I don't want to set eyes on your face or hear your voice," he boomed.

My heart was thumping and my feet felt leaden. Papa yelled so loud all the servants peeked out of doors. I saw Vera and Tottie in the doorway of the dining room and at the top of the stairs, I saw Emily glaring down.-

"That girl is being punished," Papa announced. "She's not to set foot out of her room until I say so. Mrs. Slope, see that her meals are brought to her room."

"Yes sir," Vera said.

Emily's head bobbed up and down on her long, thin neck as I walked past her. Her lips were pursed and her eyes small and piercing. I knew that once again she felt justified and supported in her convictions that I was a bad seed. There was no point in appealing to her, even on behalf of Mamma. I went into my room and closed my door and prayed that Papa would calm down soon enough for me to go to the party.

But he didn't and he left The Meadows for his business trip without giving me permission to leave my room. I had spent all my time reading and sitting by the window looking out over the grounds, hoping and praying that Papa would find a softness in his heart and forgive me for my insolence, but with no one to take my part, Mamma confused and shut up in her own world, and Emily gleeful about my state of affairs, I had no advocate. I begged Vera to ask Papa to come see me. When she returned to bring me my next meal, she reported that he had shaken his head and said, "I haven't got time for nonsense now. Let her mull over her behavior a while longer."

I nodded, despondent.

"I mentioned the party," Vera revealed, and I looked up hopefully.

"And?"

"He said Emily wasn't going, so there wasn't any need to beg him to let you go. I'm sorry," Vera said.

"Thank you for trying, Vera," I told her, and she left.

I was positive Niles asked after me at school, but got no satisfactory explanation out of Emily. On the day of the party, however, he came to The Meadows and asked if he could see me. Vera had to tell him I was being punished and wasn't permitted any visitors. She sent him off.

"At least he knows what's wrong," I muttered when Vera reported his appearance. "Did he say anything else?"

"No, but his chin dropped to his feet and he looked like someone had told him he couldn't go to the party either," Vera said.

That afternoon passed so slowly. I sat by the windows watching the sunlight diminish. On my bed I had my best dress spread out with my prettiest shoes on the floor, shoes I had dreamt of dancing in until my legs collapsed beneath me. During one of her clear moments, Mamma had given me an emerald necklace to wear with a matching emerald bracelet. I had those pieces beside the dress. From time to time, I would look at it all longingly and dream of myself all dressed up.

After dark, that was exactly what I did. I prepared myself just as I would have if Papa had left permission for me to attend the party. I took my bath and then sat before my vanity table and brushed and pinned my hair. Then I got into my party dress and my shoes and put on the jewelry Mama had given me. Vera brought me my dinner and was shocked, but also delighted.

"You look so nice, honey," she said. "I'm sorry you can't go."

"But I am going, Vera," I told her. "I'm going to imagine everything and pretend."

She laughed and revealed a little about her youth.

"When I was your age, I used to walk up to the Pendletons' plantation whenever they had one of their big, gala affairs, and I would sneak up as close as I could and gape at all the finely dressed women in their white satin and white muslin ballgowns and the men, gallant in their waistcoats and cravats. I'd listen to the laughter and the music flowing through the open windows over the verandas and I would dance with my eyes closed, imagining I was a fancy young lady. Of course I wasn't, but it was fun nevertheless.

"Oh well," she added, shrugging, "I'm sure there will be other parties for you, other times for you to dress up and look as pretty as you look now. Good night, honey," she added, and left.

I didn't eat much; my eyes were on the clock most of the time. I tried to envision what was happening at every hour. Now the guests were arriving. The music was playing. The twins were greeting everyone at the door. I felt sorry for Niles, who I knew had to take his position with the family and look happy and excited. Surely, he was thinking of me. A while later, I imagined people were dancing. If I were there, Niles would have asked me. I let my imagination carry me off. I began to hum and move around my small room, envisioning Niles's hand on my waist and my hand in his. Everyone at the party was watching us. We were the most handsome young couple there.

When the music stopped, Niles suggested we get something to eat. I went over to the tray Vera had brought up and nibbled on something, pretending Niles and I were feasting on roast beef and turkey and salads. After we ate, the music started again and again we were on the dance floor. I was floating in his arms.

"De da, de da, de, da, da, da," I sang, and swirled around my bedroom until I heard a rapping on my window and caught myself. I gasped and looked out at a dark figure staring in. He tapped on the window again. My heart was pounding. Then I heard my name and rushed to the window. It was Niles.

"What are you doing? How did you get up here?" I cried after throwing the window up.

"I climbed, shimmied up the rough gutter pipe. Can I come in?"

"Oh Niles," I said, looking at my door. "If Emily should find out . . ."

"She won't. We'll keep our voices down."

I stepped back and he entered. He looked so handsome in his suit and tie, even though his hair was wild from the climbing and his hands were black with dirt from the gutter pipe and the roof.

"You'll ruin your clothes. Look at you," I declared, standing back. There was a streak of dirt across his left cheek. "Go into my bathroom and wash up," I ordered. I tried to sound upset and critical, but my heart was bursting with joy. He laughed and hurried into the bathroom. A few moments later, he came out, wiping his hands on the towel.

"Why did you do this?" I asked. I was sitting on my bed, my hands in my lap.

"I decided without you the party was no fun anyway. I stayed for everything I had to stay for and then I snuck away. No one's even going to notice. There are so many people there and my sisters are very occupied. Their dance cards are filled for the night."

"Tell me about the party. Is it everything it was supposed to be? Are the decorations wonderful? And the music, is the music wonderful."

He just stood there, smiling at me.

"Slow down," he said. "Yes, the decorations came out great and the music is very good, but don't ask me what other girls are wearing. I wasn't looking at other girls; I was thinking only of you."

"Go on, Niles Thompson. With all those pretty young women there . . ."

"I'm here, aren't I?" he pointed out. "Anyway," he said, stepping back to drink me in, "you look rather beautiful for a shut-in."

"What? Oh," I said, blushing. I realized I had been caught in the midst of my make-believe. "I . . ."

"I'm glad you dressed up like this. It makes me feel you are at the party. Well now, Miss Lillian," he said with a sweeping bow, "might I have the pleasure of dancing with you or is your card filled?"

I laughed.

"Miss Lillian?" he asked again.

I stood up.

"I do have a spare dance or two," I said.

"How delightful," he said, and took my hand. Then he put his hand on my waist just the way I imagined he would have, and we began to move to our own music.

For a moment, when I closed my eyes and then opened them and caught sight of ourselves in my vanity mirror, I believed we were at the party. I could hear the music and the voices and laughter of other people. He had closed his eyes too, and we moved around and around until we bumped into my night table and sent the lamp flying to the floor, the glass shattering.

For a moment neither of us moved or said a thing. We listened for footsteps in the hallway. I indicated we should be silent and knelt down to pick up the bigger pieces of glass. One piece cut my finger and I cried out. Niles seized my hand instantly and pressed my wounded finger to his lips.

"Go wash it," he said. "I'll finish cleaning this up. Go on."

I did so, but I wasn't in the bathroom a moment when I heard footsteps outside my room. I poked my head out to warn Niles, who quickly went down on his stomach behind the bed just as Emily thrust open my door.

"What's going on in here? What happened?" she demanded.

"My lamp fell off the table and broke," I said, stepping out of the bathroom.

"What . . . why are you dressed up?"

"I wanted to see how I would look if I had been permitted to go to the party like every other young girl my age," I retorted.

"Ridiculous." She screwed her face into a tight, suspicious look and narrowed her eyes as she gazed over the room and then stopped when she saw the window open. "Why is that window open so far?"

"I felt warm," I said

"You'll have all sorts of flying insects in here." She started toward it, but I shot out before her and reached the window first. When I looked down, I saw that Niles had slipped under my bed. Emily stood in the center of my room, still gazing at me with interest.

"Papa didn't want you to go to the party; he certainly didn't want you dressing for it. Take off those silly clothes," she ordered.

"These are not silly clothes."

"It's silly to wear them in your room, isn't it? Well?" she said when I didn't respond.