Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (80 page)

Richard jumped out of his seat and followed
me to the foyer where I prepared to step out into the pouring rain.
I turned and looked up to him, and was about to ask him to retrieve
my journal from his safe, when he abruptly said, “They know it was
you.”

“What do you mean?” I uttered in a panic as a
heavy lump formed in my throat.

“My sister-in-law, Rachael, she sent a
telegram. The law is looking all over for you. I didn’t want to
tell you this so soon, not after the condition you were in last
night, but you give me no choice, Lillian. Don’t you see, you have
to stay here? It is the last place the law would ever think to look
for you, and the lighthouse station would be the first.”

Richard reached out and placed his hands on
my sobbing shoulders. My strong will to maintain the inner strength
to lead me home immediately vanished, and I was shaken and troubled
once again. Everything bad had a way of catching up to me.

“You have no choice, my dear. If you go to
your beloved island, all those you love could be arrested for
harboring you.”

I gazed up at him through tear-filled eyes
and knew he was right.

“Come and sit, have a drink, relax. We will
figure this all out. Just be patient,” Richard said, and he poured
me a drink from one of his fancy glass decanters.

I swallowed the nasty tasting drink and
closed my eyes, and soon my heart began to slow down, my shaking
stopped, and I felt better. Richard poured me one more glass of
liquor, then sat me down next to him on the settee. “Shopping will
help take your mind off your troubles. It certainly does for
Judith. Let me take you to her favorite shops where you can choose
some new dresses and hats.”

“I can’t, Richard. I have no way to repay
you,” I said in a most relaxed tone. The room was spinning and my
whole body felt as if it were going to float right off the seat and
up to the top of the hand-carved mahogany ceiling.

Richard thought for a moment as he rubbed his
chin with the tips of his long fingers, then said, “You can sit for
me and allow me to do a portrait of you. That way you can earn the
dresses. That would certainly be fair, wouldn’t it?”

I began to giggle uncontrollably. I wasn’t
sure why, but I couldn’t stop. The thought of posing for him again,
possibly topless, would normally have me running away in fear,
regardless of the consequences. But the drinks had me thinking
differently, unclear and uninhibited.

“Sure, Richard, that would be fair,” I said
through my silly giggles.

Edgar interrupted with the announcement that
the coach was waiting for us.

“Thank you, Edgar,” he said, and helped me to
my feet. As we went to leave, Edgar opened a large umbrella and
held it over us as we hurried into the coach.

The rain fell hard, and I leaned my head out
the window, trying to catch the drops on my tongue as the driver
ushered the horse on through the busy streets of New York City.
“Lillian, sit down,” Richard insisted, and he eased me down onto
the bench seat.

Again, I giggled. I saw the amusement in his
eyes.

“This is fun. I’m glad you convinced me to
stay,” I told him.

He lit up a cigar as I rested my head against
his arm. I liked the way I was feeling, what the drink did for me.
It somehow blew the dark clouds of my dreary days away and gave me
a sense of control, optimism, and much needed confidence.

Our shopping spree lasted all day. With much
merriment, we went from fashionable shop to shop and purchased
beautiful, elegant dresses such as only rich women possessed.
Richard looked pleased as I picked dozens of hats, several pairs of
gloves, and three pairs of shoes for myself.

“Judith never enjoys herself the way you do.
She always has a sour puss,” he told me.

Richard took me out to a fancy restaurant for
lunch and another for dinner, and we arrived back to the mansion on
Fifth Avenue at nine o’clock. I was tired and my stomach was doing
flip-flops from all the drinks Richard had ordered for me. I could
barely keep my eyes open, and needed assistance when I tried to
walk up the steps to the front door. By the time we were inside, my
legs gave way, and I collapsed into Richard’s arms.

“Is everything all right?” I thought I heard
Edgar inquire.

“I don’t feel well,” I moaned. “I think I’m
going to be sick.”

“Get Agnes, will you, Edgar?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker.”

I was whisked to a room somewhere on the
second floor where I was placed in a bathroom to heave up all the
contents in my stomach. Without a word, Agnes wiped my sweaty brow
and held my hair back each time I vomited. Only when I was
finished, when my stomach had nothing left to give, and my head was
pounding as if beaten with a stick, did Richard come in and order
Agnes out. “I will see to her now.”

Richard lifted me off the cold marble
bathroom floor and carried me into my room. On the bed was a gown
for me to wear, and without my consent, Richard undressed me.
“Seeing nudity is ordinary to me. It’s normal. Just like it would
be to a doctor,” he explained. “It doesn’t arouse me the way you
would think.”

After he had me in my nightgown, Richard
eased me under the covers and placed a quick kiss on my cheek. “I
will send up some medicine for you in the morning to help with the
headache. Then, in the afternoon, I will introduce you to some of
my business acquaintances.”

“But . . .” I tried to ask why, but Richard
hushed me by putting his finger over my lips, blew out the light,
and left me to drift off into a long night of oblivion.

Just as Richard had said, the medicine helped
relieve most of my headache, though I had no desire to eat. Agnes
brought up some dry toast and juice, and for the first time, spoke
to me. “Just nibble. You need to get something in your
stomach.”

“Thank you,” I replied, and took a small
bite.

“Mr. Parker would like you up and dressed, so
get done,” she said flatly, then left the room.

I ate what I could, sipped on the juice, and
was ready when Richard came to retrieve me. I remembered little of
the night before, and he didn’t say anything about it.

“I like the dress you chose to wear. We are
going to the theater, my dear,” he stated, and then led me out.

Richard was dressed in one of his most
elegant suits, and I felt honored to be in his presence. With my
arm intertwined through his, Richard began to introduce me to all
of his wealthy gentleman friends. “Lillian, this is my good friend,
Bart Wilco. This is his theater.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilco,” I said, as
he leaned in and took my gloved hand, then pecked it with his thin,
pale lips.

“The pleasure is all mine. Enjoy the play,”
he said. He gave Richard a sly look and went on to greet some of
the other audience members.

“Follow me,” Richard said, taking hold of my
hand.

When we were backstage, I apprehensively
pressed up next to Richard as he greeted the beautiful actors. They
all knew him and greeted him by his first name. One girl in
particular, with long, frizzy black hair, immodestly dressed,
revealing most of her bosom, seemed to be especially fond of
Richard. In fact, all the girls were dressed that way.
What kind
of play is this?

“Wanda, this is Lillian, a friend of the
family,” Richard introduced.

Wanda winked playfully at Richard and gave me
a strange smile, then sat down in the chair before a small mirror
to check her face one last time before she went out onstage.

“So, what do you think?” Richard asked me, as
we stood back and watched the girls hurry by.

“Think about what?”

Richard chuckled, then grabbed one of the
prettiest girls as she walked past us. “Phoebe, come say hello to
Lillian,” he said, and pulled her close.

“Hi ya, kid. What is a little thin’ like you
doin’ hangin’ around with a guy like Richard?” she cackled.

“Oh, stop,” Richard laughed, and smacked her
behind before nudging her away. She laughed and hurried off with
the other girls.

“Let’s go take our seats. The play is about
to start.”

Together we found our front row seats.
Richard had me sit beside Mr. Wilco, who leaned in and said to me,
“Enjoy.”

At first I wasn’t sure what to think, but as
the performance progressed, I was amused at the satires mocking
Shakespearian drama, the dancing, and the short routines with
quick-witted humor that indeed made me laugh. The audience agreed.
They were amused and roared with laughter. At the end of the show
the cast received a standing ovation.

When it was over, Richard and Mr. Wilco spoke
for a moment while I sat in my seat, continuously being looked over
by older men. Uncomfortable, I turned away from their lingering
eyes.

“We have been invited to Bart’s apartment for
a party. I told him we would go.” Without waiting for my response,
Richard had us in a carriage and on our way through the city to
Bart Wilco’s luxury apartment located in one of the tallest
buildings I had ever seen. In the elevator, I nervously clung to
the walls as we made our way up to the top floor. Inside the
enormous smoke-filled residence were many girls I recognized from
the show, and many men, all mingling, drinking, laughing, and
smoking cigars. Even the women!

As I entered the main room with tall windows
overlooking the vast Central Park, I recognized Wanda sitting on an
older man’s lap as he insistently kissed her neck while holding a
cigar in one hand and a drink in the other.

“Let me introduce you around,” Richard said,
and took my hand.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I belong here,”
I whispered.

Richard believed I was years older than
sixteen, and because of that, I was being thrown into a world of
adult pastimes, which left me both frightened and curious. But I
knew I didn’t belong, and I needed Richard to know, too. “Can I
talk to you?” I asked, tugging on his hand to capture his
attention.

Phoebe approached and handed us each a drink,
then said with laughter in her voice, “Where is the missus tonight,
Richard?”

“You know better,” Richard snickered and
gulped down the liquor. Then he turned to me and motioned me to do
the same.

I didn’t want to, but he insisted.

“That will help you relax. Now come say hello
to Bart and thank him for inviting you to his exclusive party.”

Mr. Wilco was talking amongst a small group
of men when we approached. They all stopped talking and smiled
widely at me. Richard nudged me to speak, so I stepped forward,
extended my hand, and nervously said, “Thank you, sir, for inviting
me to your home.”

The men all stared at me, which left me
uncomfortable. I remembered how men used to look at Momma,
wide-eyed, open-mouthed, stunned by her beauty. I was now being
looked at the same way, and I hated it. However, Richard beamed
with pride as he introduced me. “I would like you all to meet Miss
Lillian. I intend to present her portrait to the magazine,” he
announced.

“She is as breathtaking as you have claimed,”
one younger man said. They spoke as if I weren’t standing
there.

“I told Lillian she could make a fortune from
her beauty, but I am not certain she believes me.” He laughed, and
they all laughed merrily along with him.

Wanda soon came over, threw her small, thin
arm around Richard, and whispered something in his ear. He excused
himself and followed her, along with Phoebe, into a private room. I
was left ill at ease standing with the men, and in a moment I took
a seat by the windows, far away from everyone. The girls from the
show occasionally peered over at me with scowls in their faces and
eyes that could almost burn my flesh. I shifted in the chair so I
would face out the windows.

The park below presented a subtle glow from
the many lampposts, and I thought it could be a wonderful place to
escape, to get lost, to run and hide. The tall trees reminded me of
the woods that surrounded Warren’s cabin, and the unspeakable thing
that had happened there. As much as I wanted to erase it all from
my mind, it was nearly impossible. I regretted so much in life, and
trusting Warren Stone was my biggest regret. If only I could go
back in time, I would have run from him when I was lost in the
marsh, instead of trusting him the way I had. I would have never
allowed myself to fall in love and become trapped in his web of
lies and sinful deceptions. If only. . .

* * *

The night dragged on, and I found myself
accepting drink after drink from the waiter, until I was relaxed
and giddy, being entertained by the men who took turns coming over
to talk to me. Everything warned me, but all my intuition and the
invisible suit of armor to protect myself came off when I had too
much to drink.

“Where are you from?” one man asked, who
introduced himself as Ned Griffin.

He was just as tall and lean as Richard, and
around the same age, but his hair was darker, his eyes very
mysterious, and his face more mature and distinguished. I giggled
and almost spilled my drink on his trousers, then replied, “I am
from the sea.”

“Oh, are you a mermaid then?” he teased with
an impish grin.

I laughed even harder and collapsed against
him. Other men came over to watch me make a fool of myself, and
surrounded me with jokes and laughter. When Richard finally emerged
from the room, followed a moment later by Wanda and Phoebe, he
whisked me away.

“I was having fun,” I pouted when we were
outside waiting for a carriage to take us home.

“I think you were having a little too much
fun,” he grumbled.

“Not as much fun as you and those girls, I
bet.” I giggled.

He ignored my remark and assisted me into the
carriage. When we were seated and on our way, Richard revealed the
identity of Ned Griffin. “He is another theater owner. His shows
are even more risqué than Bart’s. He is a rich man with no focus. I
personally don’t like him.”