Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (79 page)

Richard motioned for me to sit and offered me
a drink. “A little brandy to help relax you?” he asked, while
pouring.

“No, thank you.”

“Come now, it’s not polite to let me drink
alone,” he said, and he handed me the wide glass that he’d filled
nearly to the top. I agreed, to be courteous, and took a small
sip.

“That’s better. Edgar will have Agnes prepare
our meal, and we will dine together. She is a fine cook. She cooked
for the Queen of England, in fact.”

“Really?”

“This is true,” Richard said, nodding his
head. He took a long drag on his cigar.

I sat quietly for a moment, trying to take it
all in. I felt unfamiliarly safe and unusually comfortable with
Richard. He lived like a king, though I worried about his queen -
Queen Judith. I felt she hated me, yet I wasn’t certain why,
exactly. Richard had an uncanny way of reading my mind; somehow he
knew most of what I was thinking, what deep down troubled me about
his wife.

Richard crossed his long legs and sat back in
the large, purple velvet chair, and gazed curiously at me. I sat up
straight, proper, and respectful as Momma and Daddy had taught me.
I wanted to appear older and more sophisticated than I was. I
longed to be respected and liked, just for being me, though I knew
Richard was enamored by my looks well before my character. I hoped
and prayed he wouldn’t see that I was soiled; I held my breath
praying he couldn’t tell what had been done to me. If he knew,
without any doubt, he would throw me out on the street and slam the
door shut without looking back.

“I’m glad you agreed to stay with us for a
while. And to be perfectly honest with you, Judith doesn’t hate
you,” he declared.

With wide eyes, I sat waiting for his
explanation. He smiled confidently, placed his cigar in a nearby
ashtray, and leaned in close to me. “She is merely jealous of your
beauty, as you will find in life that most women are. Judith is
jealous of all the women I sketch.” I didn’t know what to say.

Edgar appeared in the doorway and announced
that dinner was served. Richard stood and extended his hand to me,
then asked, “Will you do me the honor of dining with me, Miss
Lillian?”

The wide smile on his face caused me to
smile. I took a much needed breath, rose, and slid my arm through
his as he casually led me into the dining room adjacent to the
parlor. Agnes was waiting for us to sit and eat. She was a
small-framed, fragile looking older woman with snow-white hair.

The meal was seven courses, and I couldn’t
fathom how she’d prepared such a grand feast in only an hour. I
hadn’t a decent meal in a long time, and I wanted to devour
everything on my plate, but I refrained and ate like a lady,
leaving a bit of food on each of my plates. Richard helped himself
to a second portion, and when he was finished, wiped his chin and
announced he was stuffed. Agnes came out to clear the dishes and
shot me a look of disapproval. Richard didn’t notice.

“Come, let me give you a tour of our fine
home,” he offered, as he came over and eased the chair out for
me.

I trailed behind him as we made our way
through the maze of rooms and ended in the rear of the kitchen. To
my astonishment, there was an elevator! I had never been in one
before. Richard laughed with amusement at my hesitation. “Nothing
to be frightened about,” he said, and he nudged me in.

I gingerly stepped into the boxlike room and
gulped hard, afraid of the tiny space. Richard eased the lever and
we started to move. I anxiously leaned against the wall and closed
my eyes, wishing to get out very soon. I cautiously opened my eyes
when we were almost there. Richard noticed me clutching Momma’s
journal. “I see that book means a great deal to you. You refuse to
put it down.”

“Oh,” I muttered. I looked down at my hand
and suddenly realized I was still gripping onto it, as if letting
go would mean I would have nothing left of Momma and Daddy, even if
they were the ones who had left me with a permanent pain and
feeling of worthlessness in my heart.

“If you would like, I can put that in our
safe. That way you can put the book away knowing that no harm will
come of it and that you won’t lose it again.”

The only item I possessed from my own mother
was that journal, with the exception of my reflection. I certainly
didn’t ever want to lose it again, so I agreed to have Richard lock
it away for safekeeping. “And when I leave in a few days, you will
give it back to me?” I asked with some trepidation, because I
needed to put so much trust in him.

After the elevator abruptly stopped, Richard
opened the metal gate and we entered the fifth floor. He appeared
amused at my confusion and laughed to himself. “This house is
filled with the finest objects money can buy,” he said, ignoring my
question, taking me along a narrow, dim hall, passing dozens of
closed doors along the way. “Judith travels the world to obtain the
finest French eighteenth century furniture and porcelains. She has
acquired the finest bronze sculptures in all the world, the most
priceless oil paintings, and expensive oriental rugs to furnish
this mansion. And my dear, all of it . . .” he stopped before a
small hand-carved black walnut door at the very end of the hall,
“means nothing to me.”

Richard removed a small key from his trousers
pocket that immediately sent shivers down my spine and made the
hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The key was a reminder
of bitter days from my past, filled with torment and anguish I
would not soon forget.

“This is what means everything to me,” he
said, and we stepped into his magical world.

It was a large room blanketed with beautiful
natural sunlight that cast a bright glow over the dozens and dozens
of sketches on wide canvases that rested on tall wooden easels.
With a beaming smile, like a proud papa, he showed me each of his
drawings of beautiful women. Some were fully clothed. I blushed as
I peered closely at the nude portraits. Warren was right about
Richard, I thought. He was certain Richard would sketch such
distasteful art. I didn’t think it was distasteful, though I kept
that opinion to myself.

“Judith doesn’t know about this room,”
Richard confessed, as I stared at one particular portrait of a
young woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

She was lying on her side on a settee,
relaxed and sprawled out with a silk sheet loosely draped over her
voluptuous body; only her large, round breasts were exposed. Her
dark hair was long and styled in large ringlets that cascaded down
her soft, milky white shoulders.

Richard slowly eased behind me, and I jumped
as I felt the heat of his breath against my neck. “Her name was
Vivienne. She sat for me for an entire day, up here in this very
room. She was breathtaking, wasn’t she?” he asked in just above a
whisper.

I took a step to my right, away from Richard,
and laughed nervously, then said, “She is. Why didn’t you make her
famous?”

Richard’s eyes grew dark and disturbed, then
his brow lifted, and he gazed out the window and into the orange
glow of the late summer sunset.

“She died, tragically. It was an accident, a
terrible carriage accident,” he said somberly, then took a deep
breath. “She was so lovely.”

I imagined she meant more to him than just a
captivating, beautiful woman who took his breath away, but I said
nothing as my heart raced from the memories of one man’s
uncompromising affections for a woman. I never wanted to have any
man feel that way for me again.

Richard appeared to be consumed with
sorrowful memories of the past as he stood staring back at her
haunting image. I felt awkward, as if I were spying on his soul.
There was a part of Richard that seemed like a young, lost boy in
the midst of a grown-up world when he looked that way.

I waited for what seemed like hours for him
to come out of his trance, and when he did, he apologized. “I’m
sorry, Lillian,” he mumbled, and once again willed his face to glow
with a brilliant, charismatic smile. “Let’s put your treasured item
in the safe, then I will show you where you will stay.”

We reached another floor, and after I handed
him the book, he told me to stay put near the elevator and he would
be right back. I watched Richard go into a room, then close the
door behind him. He was out in only a minute, then he led me down
one more level to the second floor where I was invited to stay.

This room was beautiful, filled with elegant
furniture and a luxurious bed that in years past I could only dream
of.

“I hope you will be comfortable here,”
Richard said.

I gazed all around, and then turned to
Richard where he stood in the doorway.

“It’s only for a few days,” I stated with
great dignity.

Richard nodded in acknowledgement, said,
“Sleep well,” and eased himself out the door without locking
it.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the dark, stormy
night, I shot up in bed from a horrible night terror. The ferocious
thunder boomed, shook the entire mansion, and left my heart racing
in my chest. With fear and bewilderment, I looked around and almost
didn’t remember where I was. Then, somewhere in my mind, I
remembered Richard, took a breath, and slipped out of bed. I had
nothing on but my chemise, and I was cold. The dampness of the rain
had seeped into the house. I quickly dressed, and then wandered out
of my room, not really thinking about where I wanted to go.

Although I had a safe place to stay, I felt
incredibly lost and alone. The city mansion was very different from
the ominous Sutton Hall, yet I was frightened, wandering down the
long, dark halls looking for who knows what. Maybe I was hoping to
find Richard up in his private room, still staring at that
beautiful woman he had sketched long ago.

As I crept along the dark, eerie halls, my
mind transported me back in time, and I became confused and easily
startled. A flash of lightning bolted out from under the infinite
row of doors that lined the hall, followed by a loud boom.
Anxiously, I jumped back and pressed myself up against a door. I
thought I saw Warren’s face in the flash of light. I was sure I
heard Eugenia holler for me. Time seemed to travel from the past to
the present, and I wasn’t able to put things into perspective. My
vision became blurry, my legs began to shake beneath me, suddenly
unable to support me. It felt like my heart was going to stop
beating at any moment, and when I felt a hand grab my shoulders, I
just about fainted.

“What are you doing wandering about at this
time of night?” Richard asked from behind me.

I had stumbled upon his room, and as soon as
I caught my breath, I tried to explain. “I had a nightmare, I was
confused,” I uttered, choking back my tears.

Richard heard my fright; his hands felt my
whole body trembling. Another flash of lightning lit the room
behind him, and all I could see was his masculine silhouette.

“There is nothing to be frightened of,”
Richard reassured me with a tender hug, but I pulled away, starting
to cry.

I wanted so much to be brave, to put on a
suit of armor and fight my way home. I hated myself for letting
Richard see how terrified I was. So I brushed away my tears with
the back of my hand, cleared my tight throat, and said, “I should
be getting back to my room.”

Richard stepped closer. I could feel his eyes
on me. “May I ask what it is that frightens you?” he asked softly.
“Can you tell me all you have been through, what that man has done
to make you such a timid and faint-hearted girl?”

Richard already knew too much. He knew how I
had witnessed Warren’s death, and he was aware that I’d had some
kind of traumatic past; however, there was no way I was going to
reveal the details to him, or to anyone . . . ever.

I quickly excused myself and hurried to find
my way back to my room, leaving Richard standing there, probably
regretting the day he met me. I wanted to climb under the covers,
and I wished the night would end. I began to think it would be best
to leave first thing in the morning, before I made too many
mistakes and more regrets. I fell asleep with my journey home in
the front of my mind.

I woke the next morning, ready to begin the
rest of my travels. I looked forward to my return to Jasper Island.
It didn’t take me long to wash up and make my way to the elevator.
I kept my chin high; I feared nothing with the new day I had been
blessed with. I wasn’t going to let fear control me; I wasn’t going
to give in to the sins of my past. With the new day came an
entirely new beginning for me, I told myself. I would no longer
allow the past to weigh me down, nor would I keep my mind locked
away in some frightened state. I did, anticipate Richard’s attempts
to persuade me not to leave. But, I had it in my mind that I would
move ahead, even if what happened in Savannah, the tragic death I
had caused, were to catch up to me.

Agnes was preparing a morning feast when I
came down. She stood cooking over the stove, which she could barely
reach, and didn’t turn to look or say a word to me. Edgar was
pouring Richard a cup of coffee when I entered the dining room.
They both turned and greeted me with subtle nods as I took a
seat.

“Nothing for me this morning,” I announced.
“I need to get an early start.”

Richard folded up the paper in his lap and
raised his brow in question, while Edgar excused himself.

“You're leaving? I thought you agreed you
should lay low for a while. It’s only been a few days since . . .”
Richard stopped and gave me a look that told me I knew what he was
talking about.

“I know what I agreed to, but my family is
waiting for me. It’s been so long already. I really need to get
home,” I explained, and stood to go.