Celia Garth: A Novel (10 page)

Roy was speaking urbanely. (No wonder Miss Perry had been so impressed.) “How do you do, Celia. I am glad to see you looking so well. May I present my wife?”

Sophie and Celia murmured politely. When he had set a chair for Celia, Roy sat down again on the sofa. For a minute or two they exchanged formal nothings. Yes, said Roy, her Aunt Louisa was well. Her cousin Harriet was also well; Harriet was now the happy mother of a little girl. Yes, his father’s death had been a shock; he had been failing for some time, but no one had known the end was so near.

“I have been trying to settle my father’s affairs as he wanted them,” Roy said. “You can expect your legacy soon, from Mr. Rand.”

He went on talking, but Celia, thinking enviously of Sophie’s cloak, forgot to listen. As she realized that Roy had paused for an answer she jerked her thoughts back, and smiling to cover her lack of attention she said, “I don’t quite understand you, Roy.”

Roy uncrossed his legs and crossed them again. The light flashed up and down his black silk stockings.

“I thought I was making it clear,” he replied courteously, “but I’ll try to be simpler. In checking over the property, I find that my father made you a loan of one of the family heirlooms, an emerald necklace. Of course he—”

Celia caught her breath. “A
loan
?”

“Of course he had a right to lend you the necklace,” Roy went on smoothly. “However—not that I want to be disrespectful to my father’s memory, but—” he gave her a bland smile—“but I do think he made a mistake in letting you take it away from the family home.”

Celia’s mouth had popped open. She shut it hard. Roy was speaking in a voice like satin, as if he were a nursemaid trying to cajole a child into giving up the jam.

“And so,” he continued, “since I’m head of the house now and responsible for the property, I prefer to have the necklace in my own care. If you’ll get it, please, and give it to me—”

Celia cut in, “I think you’re out of your mind.”

Roy sat up stiff-backed.

“Uncle William didn’t lend me that necklace!” Celia said angrily. “It’s mine. It belonged to my father.”

“Your father,” Roy returned, “was the
younger
son, Celia. That necklace is an heirloom, entailed upon the eldest son in each generation. Therefore, it belonged to my father and now it belongs to me.”

He was speaking precisely, as though he had rehearsed his lines. Chilly as the room was, Celia felt her skin get hot with rage. The necklace was upstairs in her trunk and she meant to keep it. Controlling her voice with an effort she said, “Uncle William told me the necklace belonged to my father.”

Sophie gave a little sigh. Turning to Roy with pretty grace she murmured, “We’re due at the Kirbys’, dear.”

“Yes, I know,” Roy answered with a quick smile. He seemed to like being married to her. Addressing Celia again he said, “Let’s not have any more fuss. I’m your guardian now.” Celia felt a clutch at her stomach. She had forgotten this. “Anything you own is under my control,” Roy reminded her. “So give me the necklace. I’ll keep it safe, and when you are twenty-one we can consider your claim to it.”

Celia sent up a wordless prayer that she was not showing how scared she felt. If only she had somebody to tell her what to do now! Her hand doubled itself into a fist, and to hide this betrayal of nerves she slipped the fist into her pocket. Her knuckles brushed the rabbit’s foot.

Jimmy!

She replied carefully, “I can’t give it to you now, Roy. My lawyer has it.”

“Your lawyer?” repeated Roy. He was surprised, and also he seemed amused at hearing her say “my lawyer.” Celia felt like poking her fist into his classic face. Roy went on, “Celia, don’t act like a stubborn child! That necklace is part of the family estate.”

Celia was so mad, and so scared, that she lost her temper. “The family estate!” she threw back at him. “You sound like you think you’re the Duke of Doozenberry.” She had sprung to her feet and was standing with her hands clenched at her sides. “Family estate! A lot of debts and rundown land—half of it nothing but a briar-patch—”

Roy was standing up too. With his dark hair and his anger-flushed face, and the black cape swinging around him, he looked dangerous. The thought flashed through Celia’s head that she had hit him where it hurt most. Roy had married a rich girl, and maybe neither Sophie nor Sophie’s family knew how much he needed what she brought him. But before he could say anything, Sophie’s voice, sweet and smooth as cream, slid between Celia and him.

“Could I suggest something, Roy?”

Standing with her dark red cloak held around her, Sophie looked rich and spoilt and adoring. Roy turned toward her, his rage softening as their eyes met. “Certainly, my dear.”

Sophie spoke to Celia. “Why don’t you tell Roy the name of your lawyer and let them settle things between them?”

This was such sensible advice that Celia felt a grudging respect. She said, “My lawyer is Captain James de Courcey Rand, in Mr. Carter’s office.”

Roy spoke tersely. “This fellow Rand has the necklace?” Celia hoped the Lord would forgive her for answering, “Yes, I gave it to Captain Rand to take care of.”

“Odd,” Roy said frowning. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake, Roy,” Sophie exclaimed in her sweet little-girl voice. “He probably thought you had told Celia she could keep it. He should have asked you, of course—I hope you’ll speak to him quite sharply.” Roy replied that he certainly would, and Sophie smiled. Eager not to be late at the Kirbys’, she asked gently, “Shall we go now?”

This time Roy agreed. He opened the door for Sophie and she went out. But he paused a moment. “I’ll see this man Rand in the morning,” he said to Celia. “And by the way. The Garths have always been loyal subjects of the king. I was shocked to hear you give a military title to one of these rebel upstarts. Please don’t do it again.”

Celia said “Cat’s foot!” But she was not sure Roy heard her, because without waiting for an answer he had gone out, shutting the door behind him.

N
OW SHE HAD TO
see Jimmy and do it fast. She dashed upstairs. Panting, she unlocked her trunk and took out the time-rubbed case of purple velvet with the necklace inside.

The necklace was a really beautiful piece of jewelry, three heavy gold chains twisted together and set with seven emeralds. No wonder Roy wanted it. It would be lovely on Sophie’s neck and would impress Sophie’s family. The nerve of him, Celia thought as she put on her cloak and drew the hood over her hair. She’d show him.

Carrying the case under her cloak she went out into the damp gray afternoon. The Rands lived on Church Street near Broad. Celia knew the house, but she had never been there and as they attended St. Philip’s Church she had glimpsed Jimmy’s mother only once or twice, at the shop. She almost ran up Church Street, hoping Jimmy would be at home and that her visit would not be inconvenient.

A house-boy answered the door. Yes’m, he said to her, Mr. Jimmy was home. Yes’m, he’d tell Mr. Jimmy she was here, and would she step inside.

He went off. From down the hall Celia could hear the sound of men’s laughter. Somebody was having a fine time.

Almost at once Jimmy appeared from the shadows beyond the staircase. Hurrying to the front he grabbed her hands. “This is luck! You’re just in time to meet my brother Miles. He’s here from Bellwood. Come on in.”

“Oh Jimmy!” Celia gasped. “Oh Jimmy!” She felt like shedding tears. Jimmy was so—oh, so
nice.
She squeezed back the tears, but even in the faint light of the hall Jimmy could see that she was troubled. He spoke in a lower voice.

“What’s the matter, Celia? Can I do anything?”

“Could I talk to you, Jimmy?” she asked—“by yourself?”

“Why of course,” said Jimmy. He opened a door. “In here. There’s no fire, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right.” Celia sat down on the first chair she saw, and Jimmy perched on the edge of a table. Celia looked around. What a beautiful room. The furniture was mahogany, the rugs were woven in tapestry designs, there was a marble mantelpiece and a marble statue of a woman in Greek draperies. Jimmy was such an easy-mannered fellow that Celia generally forgot he had the background of a rich young ruler; now for a moment she felt abashed. But Jimmy was watching her with such warm interest that she forgot everything again, except that he wanted to help her.

She showed him the necklace and told him about her visit from Sophie and Roy. “Will you be my lawyer, Jimmy?” she asked.

“I sure will,” he answered promptly.

“You’ll lock up the necklace?”

“This very day.”

“Jimmy, you’re wonderful. But—”

“But what?”

“I’m still a minor, just as Roy said. Won’t you have to give it to him if he insists?”

Jimmy chuckled wickedly. He linked his lean brown hands around his knee. “My dear, if there’s one thing a lawyer knows, it is how to waste time. If I can’t dawdle around till you’re twenty-one, I ought to go back to school.”

“But then?” she asked.

This time Jimmy spoke seriously. “If Roy can show me documentary proof that the necklace was entailed, I’ll have to give it to him. But if your uncle told you it was yours he must have known what he was talking about. I rather suspect he had lost the papers—that would have been like him—so there was no proof either way, and he gave it to you in a private interview because he knew Roy would raise cain and poor William just didn’t feel equal to a battle.”

Celia smiled. Jimmy was so clear-headed. “But you do feel equal to a battle?”

“Me?” Jimmy retorted with merry malice. “If it’s a matter of Roy’s word against yours—let me point him out to a jury. A strong man, a man of property, persecuting a helpless golden-haired orphan who is clinging to her mother’s keepsake! Why, it almost moves me to tears.”

Celia did feel moved to tears, and blinked hard so he would not notice.

Jimmy slid off the table. “Give me the necklace,” he said, and dropped the case into his coat pocket. “Now come on in by the fire. We were just about to have a glass of wine and a biscuit.”

Celia felt another touch of shyness. She did not know what sort of person Jimmy’s mother might be, and she had never laid eyes on Miles. But Jimmy was already leading her down the hall. Near the back of the house he opened a door.

As soon as she stepped over the threshold Celia could feel the atmosphere of a pleasant and affectionate home. The room glowed with firelight. In her first glance she saw well-filled bookcases, and chairs that looked comfortably worn, and on a side table pink hyacinths blooming in a bright green bowl. In the room were Jimmy’s mother, his brother Miles, his colored man Amos, and Jimmy’s big handsome dog-of-no-breed Rosco, with a rabbit’s foot on his collar. Mrs. Rand was half reclining on a sofa, Miles and Amos sat on the floor, while the dog lay in a warm corner looking on. He was a shaggy brown dog bigger than a collie, a splendid creature if you did not care who a dog’s ancestors were.

Except that her hair was threaded with white, and years of good living had plumpened her figure, Mrs. Rand looked like Jimmy—the same quick black eyes and irregular features, the same air of mischief, the same utter lack of snobbery or pretense. Her maiden name had been Beatrice de Courcey. By descent she was pure French, but her husband’s forebears had been English, and Miles Rand was like his father. Lighter in coloring than Mrs. Rand and Jimmy, Miles had a higher forehead and a more high-bridged nose, and he was not as lean and lanky as Jimmy was. But he was like Jimmy in his air of good-fellowship, and Celia felt at ease with him at once. Miles was in town on business. He had not brought his wife because her pregnancy made it dangerous for her to travel in this uncertain weather.

The colored man Amos had a skin the brown of coffee beans, and he looked like a fellow who enjoyed living. Jimmy had told Celia about him: when Amos and Jimmy were both just big enough to run around, Amos had been given to Jimmy as personal servant, and they had grown up together. As for the dog Rosco, Jimmy had found him in the woods on Bellwood Plantation, a stray half-starved puppy with a lame leg. That was eight years ago. Jimmy had brought him home and fed him and doctored his leg, and since then Rosco and Jimmy had never been far apart.

Jimmy took Celia’s cloak, Miles poured her a glass of wine, and Amos passed the biscuits. “I’ve been wanting to know you better,” Mrs. Rand said to her. “I’ve heard about you from Jimmy. Now I hear that Vivian likes your sewing so much she’s taking you to Sea Garden.”

Jimmy grinned. He was straddling a chair, resting his glass on the back of it. His mother continued,

“Amos, bring back the biscuits. Of course, child, you’ll have two. With that waistline you can have a dozen.” She laughed and patted her own plump sides. “Quite a bit of padding I’ve got. But oh, the fun I had getting it!”

Celia laughed too, and took another biscuit. They were flat little biscuits flavored with benne seed, which Miles had brought from Bellwood. Miles asked Celia how she liked this wine; he was proud of it, he had made it himself from grapes raised at Bellwood. Jimmy said she must forgive them, but the Rands all thought anything from Bellwood was better than anything raised anywhere else.

They were so happy and friendly that Celia would have liked to stay for hours. But Aunt Louisa had taught her that when you made an unexpected visit you should keep it short, so when she had finished her wine she stood up and said she must go. They urged her to stay longer, but she shook her head. Jimmy said he would walk with her back to the shop.

As he opened the front door Jimmy exclaimed that it was colder than he had thought, and asked her to wait while he got his cloak. When he had left her, Celia looked thoughtfully down the hall toward the sitting room. She had a puzzling sense of lonesomeness.

Celia was not used to feeling lonesome. Without thinking much about it, she got along with other people well enough. But Jimmy and his mother and brother, his servant and his dog—they had something she did not have. She had sensed it as soon as she went into that room. It was not merely that they got along; they had a warmth, an understanding, a—she could not define it, but she knew it was there.