Out of the Attic Read online

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. This is entirely my fault. My mouth goes like a steamboat sometimes.”

  “No need to blame yourself. I just need a little nap,” I said. “I’ve been quite busy with family matters lately. I’m sure you understand how trying that could be.”

  “Yes, of course,” she said, her chin quivering like someone who was about to cry.

  I stood, and she did, too.

  “I do hope I haven’t upset you, Corrine.”

  “Of course not. I might look dainty, but I assure you I am not.”

  We started out.

  “I really do appreciate your inviting me to lunch. Foxworth is so overwhelming. Everyone talks about it.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “You do have something of a unique bedroom, don’t you?” she asked.

  I paused. “How exactly did you hear about my bedroom?”

  “It’s just something people who know Foxworth Hall mention.”

  “No one but our servants and my husband and I have seen my bedroom these past five years.”

  She laughed thinly. “I don’t know, really. Someone in your house said something to someone, I’m sure. Charlottesville is a much smaller city than people imagine. My mother says, ‘Someone can’t sneeze without someone on the other side of the city saying God bless you.’ ”

  “Yes, I can see now how that might be true.”

  Mrs. Steiner was waiting at the door to help her on with her cloak.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Please tell the cook I enjoyed everything.”

  Mrs. Steiner nodded and left. I opened the door and, folding my arms across my breasts, stepped out with her. Lucas had brought the carriage to the front. He stepped down, opened the door, and held out his hand to help her up.

  She turned to me. “Thank you so much for everything, the tour, a wonderful lunch.”

  “We’ll see each other again.”

  “I do hope so. And our little club… won’t you reconsider and join us?”

  “I might,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “I do hope your headache gets relieved quickly.”

  “Thank you.”

  She leaned forward, and we hugged. Lucas helped her in, glanced at me, and got up to start away.

  I stood there and watched her being driven off. She looked back once and waved. I waved back like I imagined the Lady of Shalott might, lifting my hand slowly, tentatively, with an obvious longing, a wish that I could, like Melinda Sue, ride off to pursue her romantic dream.

  Mine was fading in ways I hadn’t imagined, but, as my mother frequently told me, young girls don’t have the vision they will have when they are older and can see much further.

  I went into the house and went to the ballroom to watch Malcolm playing with his train set. True to his plan, he had brought down every figurine, soldiers, toy houses, and cars to create his imaginary world. Dora sat off to the side doing some needlework and looked up at me quickly.

  “He did very well with his lessons, ma’am.”

  I nodded. I had no illusions about my son. He didn’t do very well because he loved reading; he did very well so he could get back here to play. Maybe he would grow up to be just like his father and create new and profitable businesses.

  “Be sure he washes up for dinner when it’s time, Dora.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Malcolm looked up, that Foxworth irritation visible in his face. “Can I play after dinner, Mama?”

  “For a while,” I said. “If you don’t rush your food.”

  “He won’t,” Dora said.

  If he could have her follow him through his life, he would never need a lawyer, I thought, and left them to wait for Lucas to return. When he did, I sent Mrs. Wilson out to get him as soon as he had unhitched the horses. She told him to come to me in the library. I decided I would look more authoritative sitting behind Garland’s desk. Lucas was very surprised to see me there.

  “Ma’am?” he said, approaching.

  “You said this morning that you took my husband his things to go on his long journey and he was still at the Caroline House, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And to be sure, this was where he had a meeting very late last night?”

  He stared at me a moment. Confessions were raining down like sleet.

  “That was where I had taken him, yes.”

  “How could his meeting go on through the night?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  “I’m a bit confused about what happened after that. Didn’t you take him from the Caroline House to the train station?”

  “No, ma’am. He was going with someone else in their carriage, I think.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. Perhaps someone from his business meeting.”

  I stared at him. He shifted his eyes from me.

  “Someday you and I will tell each other the truth, Lucas. I envy my husband for commanding so much loyalty.”

  He looked down at his hat and twirled it in his hands.

  “Okay, Lucas. Thank you,” I said.

  He nodded, looking grateful for being dismissed. I watched him go and then turned and looked out the window. The sky was graying. I recalled the surge of fear that had passed through my body on my wedding day.

  It was returning.

  But peering over its shoulder was the face of loneliness, its eyes filled with threat.

  “You will not live any longer in this house,” I said.

  Anyone hearing me and seeing me would think I had gone mad.

  I had underestimated Melinda Sue Carter. Any other young woman I knew or had known would surely have been intimidated by the abrupt manner in which I had ended our luncheon shortly after she had made her rather suggestive comments about Garland. She wrote a few days later to say that despite my reluctance, she was still sponsoring me to become a member of the Charlottesville Women’s Club.

  Included in her letter was an invitation to their Halloween party occurring in a week. It was going to be a costume party, so I was advised to wear a mask or find a costume. She compared it to a Mardi Gras in New Orleans. They were having music and punch, punch double underlined so I would understand it would have something alcoholic in it. It was being held at the home of Amanda McKnight, who had “the biggest grand room but nothing in comparison to Foxworth Hall’s ballroom.” There was no mention of Garland. The invitation was addressed only to me. It was as if she knew Garland’s travel schedule. I had never told her exactly how long he’d be away, so that renewed my suspicions.

  Nevertheless, during these years married to Garland I hadn’t attended any social event without him. Many occurred while he was on one of his frequent business trips, but I didn’t even reveal that an invitation to one had come to us. They were left on his desk in the library, and only by chance did I notice any. I did nothing about them. He never had told me not to go anywhere without him, but when I mentioned it once to my mother when she visited and saw one of the invitations, she declared it would be highly improper for a married woman to do so. She had never attended any social event without my father.

  “The very thought of it puts ice on my spine,” she told me, to clearly drive home that I shouldn’t even be contemplating such a thing. It was another nail in the door keeping me feeling like a prisoner in my own grand mansion.

  I was torn between defiance and embarrassment. Still smarting from the innuendos Melinda Sue had left behind like bread crumbs, I decided to go into Charlottesville a few days later. I had Lucas drop me off at the department store just so he wouldn’t have any suspicions concerning my true intentions for the trip. I thought it was just possible he would send a note to Garland if I did anything he thought Garland wouldn’t approve, not that he was obviously spying on me or even that Garland had asked him to do so.

  However, I suspected Lucas probably knew more about where my husband was traveling and where he would be on any given day than I did. Surely there were o
ften messages from one or more of the Foxworth businesses that had to be delivered, and I had no doubt he had been given that responsibility.

  As he dropped me off, I gave Lucas instructions to return in two hours. He wanted to wait, but I told him that would make me nervous.

  “I don’t like drawing unnecessary attention, Lucas, especially in Charlottesville. And that’s what would happen if you sat out here waiting.”

  He nodded and started away. When he was gone, I began walking down High Street to the Caroline House. For a few moments, I stood outside working up my courage, and then I entered the lobby. It was large enough to feature two long settees, side tables, and two brown-leather cushion chairs, with a beautiful gilded candle chandelier. On the wall to my left, there was a large painting of a Confederate officer with his sword raised, pointing ahead, and his face lit with that sort of mad excitement that overrides any fear.

  The hotel clerk, a balding dark-haired man of about forty, short with what looked like bifocals slipping down the bridge of his bulbous nose, sat behind the high counter reading a copy of the Virginia Star, his head barely above the counter. He was so absorbed in what he was reading that he didn’t see or hear me enter. The building itself was three stories high, and off to the right of the lobby was clearly a dining room. There were at least a dozen tables, some set for four and six and three set for two in a room with large windows with ruby drapes.

  The receptionist finally noticed me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, standing. “How can I be of some assistance?”

  He was wearing a black vest, a white shirt with a black bow tie, and black pants. When he smiled, he revealed he was missing quite a few back teeth on both sides. His soft, pale lips seemed to sink into his mouth in the corners.

  “Thank you,” I said, approaching. “I didn’t realize how nice the Caroline House is. Is the restaurant open for lunch?”

  “For dinner and breakfast only. Breakfast is free for our long-term guests.”

  “What is a long-term guest?”

  “Usually a week or more,” he said. “We currently have two,” he added proudly. “Are you looking for a place to stay in Charlottesville or looking for a hotel for someone, a visiting relative perhaps?”

  “No. I was shopping nearby and realized I had never been to the Caroline House. My husband has been here often for meetings,” I added.

  “Meetings?” He held his smile. “Oh, dinner meetings.”

  “Not just dinner meetings. Perhaps the better word is rendezvous.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said, his eyelids twitching nervously. “Our establishment holds the highest esteem.”

  “That’s probably why my husband comes here.”

  “Who is your husband?”

  “Garland Foxworth,” I said.

  His smile faded like a nearly empty gaslight trickling dead.

  “Do you recall him?” I asked, after his lips seemed to seal closed.

  “I… not lately,” he said. “I’m here only during the day and rarely on weekends.”

  “Yes, he is away on a business trip,” I said.

  He nodded, his smile returning but looking forced. Why beat around the bush? I thought.

  “Is Mrs. Catherine Francis staying here?”

  He shook his head, again pressing his lips together tightly as if he thought words might bubble out.

  “She has, though, hasn’t she?” I asked, holding my smile.

  Again, he nodded, but with obvious reluctance.

  “When was she here last?” I asked, with more authority.

  His face reddened, his cheeks reaching a dark crimson at the crests. “I’m afraid we’ve been told to never give out the personal information of our guests unless the police ask us,” he said.

  “That’s personal information?”

  He didn’t reply, but I continued to stare and wait.

  “We’ve been told by the management that—”

  “Thank you,” I said abruptly. You didn’t have to be a genius to understand what was being said between the lines. He sat the moment I turned to leave, as if talking to me had exhausted him. Then I spun back around, and he popped up again as if he had sat on hot coals.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Please give her my regards whether she’s here or not,” I said, smiling.

  He looked absolutely terrified. I was boiling inside, but no one could tell. My smile was inscrutable. As I walked away, I didn’t look at anyone or hear anything but my own thoughts.

  How indiscreet was Garland? How much more did Melinda Sue and her friends know about all this? Was I the only stupid one? Were they all laughing behind my back, mocking the beautiful but young and naive trophy bride? Could Dora know, or Mrs. Steiner? Both she and Mrs. Wilson went to Charlottesville often. How thick and free was the gossip? Was Garland so arrogant about it that he didn’t care? What did this Catherine Francis look like? How could he choose to be with an older woman rather than me? Where was all this going? How many more women was he seeing? Was he really on business trips?

  I felt like such a little idiot, shut away in my castle. Yes, yes, I was the Lady of Shalott. Melinda Sue and her hens had pecked me right.

  Whom could I confide in? Certainly not strangers or that pack of gossipmongers in Melinda Sue’s social club. I had to go home to Alexandria for a day or so, I thought. I had to talk to my mother or my father, maybe both, about this. I knew how they felt about my marriage and life. My mother’s infamous “You made your bed behind my back, now sleep in it” haunted me, as well as my father’s favoring Garland’s business skills and his votes over my future happiness, but how would they react to this? Wasn’t this different? In a real sense, weren’t they being insulted, too?

  I spun around and started toward the train station. I would buy a ticket today for tomorrow morning, I thought, but first send a telegram.

  How ironic. Almost five years ago, I had been in this telegraph office to tell my father I was coming home from my great-aunt Nettie’s because Garland had disappointed me. Garland had sent a message that he wouldn’t be coming to get me the day after I had drunk too much limoncello and he had taken advantage of me. We were supposed to spend the day at Foxworth. He was shocked to discover I was a virgin at the time. I had no one to blame but myself, I had thought. Any man would have found me quite sophisticated for my age. I never admitted to being otherwise.

  Nevertheless, even after all the disappointment in him, I hadn’t been able to clamp down on my feelings for Garland. My heart had been softened for forgiveness, and he had been so sincere when he proposed I could do nothing else but accept if my parents did. When I thought about it while I was walking now, it was as if I was thinking about a girl completely different from the woman I now was. I would never have admitted it at the time, but I was as vulnerable and as naive as any of the girls my age whom I had ridiculed. Fools all.

  The man who had taken my telegraph message back then was still there. I wasn’t sure he remembered me, but when he saw me enter, his eyes brightened, and he certainly looked like he knew who I was now. He still had a thick black mustache but with strands of gray. I remembered he looked like he had almost no chin. Nearly bald then, he was completely so now. When he smiled, he revealed he had lost more of his teeth, one prominently in the front.

  I nodded, picked up the pen, and wrote out the telegram. It was simple and quite unrevealing.

  Visiting tomorrow. I’ll be on the early train.

  Corrine

  I had it sent to my father’s bank office. They’d both be surprised. I hadn’t been home since they had their open-house party in their new home. After that, they had always come to see me, Garland, and Malcolm. After all, how could they pass up an opportunity to visit Foxworth Hall? My mother gathered as much as she could to describe and enthrall her catty friends with when she returned home.

  “You’re Mrs. Foxworth, ain’tcha?” the clerk asked when I handed it to him.

  “Yes, I am.” br />
  “I seen your picture in the paper from time to time and saw you go past in that fancy carriage a few times.”

  “I’m glad you’re so observant,” I said. “How much for that?” I asked, nodding at the note.

  I gave him the coins and then watched him start to send it.

  After he finished, I started to leave, then paused and looked back at him.

  “Are you from Charlottesville?”

  “Yes, ma’am, born and raised, as was my daddy.”

  “Did you know the Foxworths back then?”

  “Everyone knew the Foxworths, ma’am. And the Foxworths knew you one way or t’other.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You were either on the good side or bad. There was no in between. That’s what my daddy use-ta say. But you, ma’am, you brung ’em somethin’ nice, somethin’ they didn’t have far as I knew.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Beauty, ma’am. Pure and simple,” he said, smiling like a pumpkin set out for Halloween.

  “Maybe it’s not enough,” I mumbled to myself, and left.

  After I bought my train ticket, I returned to the department store to shop for something I didn’t need and meet Lucas at the appointed time.

  When we arrived at Foxworth Hall and he was helping me out, I informed him of my intentions to visit my parents and what time I’d be leaving.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Especially when Garland was gone, Lucas tried hard to avoid looking directly at me. The second he finished a sentence or just a word like yes, he would look down.

  “Where exactly is my husband right now, Lucas? Don’t tell me you don’t know, either,” I said sharply.

  He looked up, glanced at me, took a breath, and said, “On his way to London, ma’am.”

  “London? He didn’t say he was going to London.”

  “That’s all I know, ma’am.”

  “Somehow I doubt that’s all you know, Lucas,” I said, and went into the mansion, walking quickly before he could offer to open the door.

  If I had to venture a guess, I thought, I’d say Catherine Francis was in London right now, too. I raged back at the wall of portraits, what I now thought was more a wall of rogues. None of you can look down on anyone else, I thought. This is a family of scoundrels.