Mystique (20 page)

"You invited those bores?" Luc
demanded.

"That is an unkind way to speak of
your cousins," his mother admonished as she led Misty into the living
room, which seemed to be filled with people, all of them talking loudly and
gesturing wildly.

Ted was still pleading with Deirdre, who
was talking to John and flapping her hand at Ted. John was nodding to Deirdre and
shrugging at Ted. The twins were sticking their fingers in the clam dip and
trying to get their grandfather to catch the crackers they were throwing at
him. Luc's father was instructing the butler to make drinks at a small bar to
one side of the Adam fireplace and telling the boys over his shoulder that he
would be with them in a minute.

Misty cradled the baby and stared
open-mouthed at a balding man sitting at the grand piano near the terrace
doors. His singing was loud and flat, and his playing wasn't much better. At
the same time, another plumpish man was reading him stock quotations from
The Wall Street Journal.

"I lied when I said they were only
slightly insane," Luc said into Misty's ear. He chuckled and cooed at the
baby. "They're all mad."

"That's not true, Lucas
Stuyvesant," his mother reproved him. "Hildebrand has a bit too much
money and George tries to show him how to invest it, that's all."

"George lost a half a million
dollars in oil wells last year," Luc told Misty.

"Yes, but I know for a fact that he
gave an equal amount to charity," his mother supplied. She blinked rapidly
at Misty. "My dear, you mustn't think my cousins gamble blindly." Her
smile was indulgent as her gaze went from Misty to her son.

"They might as well just throw their
money away and get it over with," Luc said dryly.

"Ah, but they have you,
dear, to keep them steady." Mrs. Harrison glided away to speak to her
other guests.

Misty coughed, choked, then laughed out
loud. "It's so wonderful to be with your family." She gasped as the
baby cooed at her. "Isn't she beautiful, Luc?"

"She's a heartbreaker," he
agreed, sliding an arm around Misty's waist and leading her farther into the
room.

Betsy spied them from the piano, where
Hildebrand was trying to show her how to place her fingers on the keys.
"Misty! Hi, Luc." She sped across the room and hugged them, then
began talking nonsense to the baby. "I'm not supposed to talk baby talk to
her, but she's so smart already that I don't think it will make a difference. We
took care of her yesterday when Deirdre had an appointment. Marcy read her a
few pages from
War and Peace.
Jenny
loved it, didn't you, lovey?" The baby gurgled and waved her fists in the
air. Misty and Luc laughed. His hand tightened at Misty's waist, and he kissed
her on the ear.

"Oh, yuk." Betsy grimaced at
them and assumed a long-suffering look as Misty's two other sisters joined
them. "Are you going to drool all over each other this weekend?"
Betsy asked. "I thought you were through with that stuff. You've been
married for ages."

"Six weeks is not ages." Luc
tapped Betsy on the nose and hugged the other girls. "You three look like
bona fide collegians. Tell me what's new on the campus these days."

The three girls tugged him toward a group
of chairs on one side of the room, leaving Misty alone with the baby. She
chuckled as she watched her husband's family. Everyone was talking at once,
all of them earnestly trying to persuade each other on whatever subject they
were expounding. "It's just you and me, kid," she told the gurgling
baby, who seemed to be growing restless and uncomfortable. She checked the
diaper. "Ah, just as I thought. You need a change," she told Deirdre,
who was still arguing with John and Ted.

"Oh, there's a diaper bag on the bed
in our room. The green wing," Deirdre explained, returning immediately to
her argument.

Misty shrugged. "I should be able to
handle this," she said to herself. "What do you think, Jenny?"
Jenny squeezed her eyes shut and let out a howl. No one in the room seemed to
notice. Misty hurried out into the foyer and up the floating staircase to the
second floor. From a past tour of the house she knew that the green wing was
the biggest guest wing in the house. After making two false turns she finally
opened the correct door into Deirdre and Ted's bedroom. The diaper bag was in
the center of the bed.

After placing the now squalling baby in
the middle of the bed and putting pillows on either side of her, Misty stripped
off the soiled diaper, disposed of it in the bathroom, and found a warm wet
cloth with which to clean the baby. "Jennifer!" Misty wailed when she
returned. A wet spot was spreading on the satin coverlet. "You weren't
supposed to do that." The baby kicked her legs as Misty sponged her off
and moved her to a dry portion of the bed, then pinned on the clean diaper.
"I don't think your mother is going to appreciate my help," she told
the child as she picked her up and gazed down at the dark spot in the center of
the bedspread.

As Misty carried the baby down the
stairs, she encountered Luc near the bottom on his way up. "I was looking
for you," he said. "Where did you go?"

"Jennifer needed changing,"
Misty explained.

"Of course, Deirdre couldn't do
that." He shot an exasperated look over his shoulder.

"I didn't mind. She's such a good
baby."

Luc studied her through narrowed eyes for
a minute, then came up two more steps so that their faces were even. "You
look beautiful holding her," he began, then frowned. "You're pale.
What is it?"

"Nothing." Misty looked away.

"You're lying to me. Mystique, and I
damned well intend to find out why and what about."

"Jennifer needs her mother,"
she said, passing him, trying to escape his scrutinizing gaze.

 She hurried down the last steps and
charged into the suddenly silent living room, almost tripping over the carpet
in her haste. All heads turned toward her. Hildebrand rose from the piano.
"Ah, here is the musician that Luc has married. A bit clumsy, I
think." He turned to his cousin George for confirmation. "What do you
say?"

"Perhaps she's a bit uncoordinated.
Probably the result of poor blood lines."

"Ahhh," Hildebrand concurred,
his index finger tapping the side of his nose. "That must be it."

"Shall I hold the baby while you
murder them, or shall I do the deed for you?" Luc asked at her back.

"What did he say, George?"
Hildebrand demanded, blinking at Luc in owlish dislike. "Lucas, must you
always be so damned physical? So untidy." Hildebrand sniffed.

"If you make one more crass remark
to my wife, I'll send you to the hospital, cousin. Not even my mother will
protect you from that," Luc announced coolly.

Hildebrand looked for help, first from
George, then from Luc's mother. "Althea, must I be subjected to
this?" he demanded.

"Oh, do be quiet, Hildebrand,"
Luc's father said testily. He crossed the room to Misty, a broad smile on his
face. "Pay no attention to him. He's a twit."

"Yes, I noticed that," Misty
said clearly, the words reaching every corner of the room.

Luc's bark of laughter overrode the
sighs, groans, chuckles, and exclamations of "Well, I never" that
rose from the assorted company. His hand settled at Misty's waist, kneading
the firm flesh.

"Perceptive little thing, isn't
she?" Mr. Harrison commented to his son.

"Very," Luc agreed. "Here,
darling, let me take Jennifer. She must be getting heavy."

"No," Misty said, her hands
tightening on the baby. She gave her husband an apologetic glance. "I
mean, I don't mind holding her for a bit longer." Unable to meet Luc's
probing glance, she turned to his father. "She has your eyes," she
observed, jiggling the baby in her arms and laughing out loud when she blew a
bubble.

"Yes." James Harrison's shrewd
gaze went from her to his son. "The Harrisons tend to have brown eyes.
Perhaps you and Luc will have a brown-eyed baby."

"No, I don't think
so," Misty said abruptly. "Excuse me. I must take Jennifer to her
mother." As she hurried across the room, she heard Luc and his father,
exchange surprised whispers, but she didn't stop.

Deirdre was still holding
forth with John, while Ted was listening and grinning. Misty coughed to gain
their attention.

"Ah, Mystique." Ted's grin
broadened as he reached for his daughter. "How is Daddy's best girl?"
Misty felt a tug on her skirt. She looked down at young James, laughing softly
at his gap-toothed smile.

"Would you like to play Indians,
Aunt Masteek? Greg and me, we gotta fort."

"Greg and I have a fort," Misty
corrected absently, biting her lip as she recalled how many times her parents
had corrected and criticized her. It had been so demoralizing never to hear an
encouraging word from them.

"You and Greg have a fort?"
James looked at her, goggle-eyed. "I didn't know that."

Misty chuckled and touched his cheek. She
glanced around the room. Luc was still deeply absorbed in conversation with his
father. Luc's mother and Alice were arguing about decorating. Misty's three
sisters were comparing outfits. "Yes, I think I would like to see your
fort," she told James. "Of course, I don't know if I can play
Indians." Misty felt herself jerked forward by a strong five-year-old
hand. She followed along behind, aware that Luc had lifted his head to watch
her leave before refocusing his attention on his father. He was irritated with
her, too, she could tell. He hated the fact that there was something she wasn't
telling him. How could she explain that she wanted his child but was afraid to
have it? She couldn't bury her fear that somehow she was tainted with her
mother's twisted tendencies.

She shook off her dread as she followed
James down a long hall and through the kitchen.

"Hi, Mabel," he called to the
cook.

Misty said hello to the plump woman who
was up to her elbows in flour. Her two young assistants smiled as James and
Misty paraded past.

"James, why don't you call me Misty
instead of Mystique?" she suggested. "It might be easier for you to
say." They stepped from the kitchen to a damp outdoor corridor.
"Isn't it too cold to play outside?"

"Yep. We're playing in the pool
room. The pool is covered so it's okay to play there," James explained,
leading her down a covered path to a huge bubble. "See, we could swim, but
since no one is down here, the pool is covered. That way we won't fall in the
water." He opened the door, letting out a blast of steamy air.

Misty welcomed the heat. Standing just
inside the door, she looked around her. The Olympic-sized pool was covered with
a taut tarpaulin. She noted that it would be impossible for the boys to unhook
the tarp from its grommets.

On the far side of the pool Greg sat on
the tile floor arranging twigs as if for a fire. "He isn't going to light
that, is he?" Misty's eyes widened at the thought of what a fire could do
in the enormous air bubble.

"Naw. We aren't allowed to play with
matches," James said matter-of-factly. "And we can't jump on the
tarpaulin either, or Grandpa will skin our backsides."

"Good." Misty sighed with
relief and followed the boy around the tile deck to where Greg was sitting. He
ordered them to be quiet as he placed the last twig in the pile.

"There, it's done." He sighed
and grinned up at Misty. "I didn't think you'd want to come, but James
said you would, Aunt Masteek."

"We're supposed to call her Aunt
Misty now," James announced importantly.

"Oh." Greg reached behind him
and pulled a pheasant feather from a bag. He handed it to her. "Here. We
found these on our farm. You wear it with this." He searched in the bag
again and pulled out a garter, which he also handed to her.

Misty lifted an eyebrow at the blue satin
garter with pink rosebuds and ruffles. "This is a bride's garter."
She paused at the sight of their guarded expressions.

Greg shrugged. "It's ugly, I know,
but it was all I could find in Mom's drawer. Grandma gave us these round ones.
Aren't they neat?" He held up two more garters. "She said her mother
used to roll her stockings in them." He looked puzzled for a moment, then
shrugged. "I can't figure it out, but in the old days they did weird
things."

"Right." Misty was glad now
that she and Luc hadn't changed out of their travel clothes. She had no trouble
sitting with the boys around their "fire." She slipped the garter
over her head, inserted the feather, and passed the peace pipe, an intricately
carved meerschaum. She was afraid it belonged to their father or grandfather.

"Ugh," Misty
answered when Greg gestured that they stand and dance around the fire.
"Whooo, whooo, whooo..." Misty chanted as she danced with half-closed
eyes.

"Good God, she's a
primitive." Hildebrand's voice carried clearly across the room. Misty
gasped and whirled around. The sight that met her eyes made her want to sink through
the floor. Luc's whole family was clustered just inside the door, watching her
with astonished expressions.