Casteel 05 Web of Dreams Page 13

  "This is Henderson and this is Margaret Stone and this is Edgar." He pointed at his different drawings.

  "They're wonderful, Troy. Very, very good," I said. His eyes brightened.

  "Here," he said handing me a brown crayon. "Edgar always wears a brown shirt. You do Edgar."

  I laughed and began. I lost my sense of time sitting there and coloring and listening to Troy chatter away about the servants and the pool and maze and Tony, but perhaps an hour or so later, I heard Momma's voice just down the hall from Troy's playroom. Then I heard Tony. He sounded annoyed. Troy didn't notice because he was too engrossed in his work. I saw how intent he would get when he did something creative, and I thought it was remarkable for a little boy to be able to shut the world out so completely. He didn't even see me rise from my seat and go to the doorway.

  Tony and Momma were standing a half dozen yards away. Tony stood tall and masculine and had his hands on her hips, trying to keep her close to him. They didn't know I was there, silent, watching.

  "Come on, Jillian." His full lips looked sulky. "We're practically married."

  "But we're not married, not yet. That's why not. And there's Leigh to think about."

  "I'll put her on the other side of the house. She won't even know you've come into my room." He bent his dark head to nuzzle her neck.

  "No, Tony." Momma pushed him away. "I told you, not until after we're married. And besides, I have things to do in Boston tomorrow. We can't stay over and that's that. Now don't be difficult."

  "All right," he said shaking his head, "but you're tor-minting me . . . and on Thanksgiving," he joked, half joked I thought. I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach and I felt bad watching them but I couldn't stop. Just before they turned to go back to the others, Tony caught sight of me peering out of Troy's playroom door. For a long moment his eyes burned into mine and I felt like he had stroked my hair or the delicate, airy fabric of my dress. I returned to Troy for another half hour or so and then Momma came to fetch me.

  "It's time to head back to Boston."

  Little Troy grimaced. "When are you going to stay here forever and ever?"

  "Very soon now Troy," Momma told him. "It's late and you should be thinking about going to bed anyway."

  "I'm not tired," he wailed.

  "That's not for you to decide," she said. "You've been sickly and need your rest. Come along, Leigh." She turned and left quickly.

  "I'll be back soon and we'll finish it all," I told him. He wasn't placated, but his sour expression left him when I kissed him goodbye on the cheek.

  I joined Momma and Tony in the entrance hall. Most of the guests had already left.

  "Thanks for entertaining Troy tonight, Leigh," Tony said. "He adores you."

  "He's very talented."

  "Yes." Tony's lips were curled into an amused smile. "He'll be designing Tatterton Toys in no time." He stepped close enough to kiss my forehead. "Good night, Leigh," he said, his hand lingering on my shoulder. I felt myself tremble. How could I ever consider such a handsome young man my stepfather?

  "Good night," I muttered and quickly stepped out the door. Momma lingered behind whispering with Tony for a few moments. Then he kissed her softly on the lips and she turned to join me. We went down the steps and it occurred to me that very soon now, this would be my home, yet it all still seemed so strange to me. There were so many empty rooms, so many dark shadows. I wondered if I could ever call such a place my home.

  Apparently Momma had none of these feelings. She was bubbling over with excitement.

  "Wasn't it the most wonderful Thanksgiving you've ever had? All those people . . . all that food. Did you see the jewelry on Lillian Rumford?"

  "I don't remember who she was, Momma."

  "You don't remember? Oh, Leigh, how could you not notice that diamond tiara and those bracelets and that cameo?"

  "I don't know. I guess I just missed it," I snapped. She heard the sadness in my voice and her smile wilted. I was glad in a mean way. All of a sudden my heart hardened against her--against my beautiful mother and her desire for fun and a rich, handsome husband.

  I wouldn't speak to her anymore. I turned to look out the window at the night. She was quiet also for a while, then she started rattling on about the clothing the other women wore, what fantastic things were said to her and things she said, how much Tony adored her and how their wedding would be the talk of the town . .

  As I gazed out the window into the darkness, I was hardly listening. There was a break in the landscape and we could see the ocean. It was a clear, cool night. Far off, I saw the small lights of a ship and I thought about Daddy someplace out there in the darkness--a lonely light against the velvet black night, like a single star in the evening sky.

  seven LOST

  . T wo weeks after Thanksgiving, I was on my way back to Farthy for a wedding ceremony rehearsal. It had snowed very heavily up and down the New England coast two days before. The landscape we passed through on our way to Farthy was covered with a white blanket that sparkled and looked crisp and clean in the morning sunlight. When we entered the wooded area just before the estate, I saw that many trees had changed shape, leaning over like old men because of the weight of the snow, or standing frozen against the blue sky, their branches looking more like bones because of the snow that clung to them. Some had icicles hanging from the tips of their branches. They looked like large teardrops frozen in the air.

  Momma wasn't very interested in Nature. She had taken command of her wedding, planning every moment, every little detail, as if it really was going to be the most important social event of the decade. Tony provided her with one of his secretaries, Mrs. Walker, a very tall, very slim, dark-haired woman who was all business and no smiles. I guessed she just wasn't very happy about her assignment. She sat across from us in the limousine taking notes as Momma thought of things she still wanted added or changed. The reading of the guest list was the opening activity each morning. Mrs. Walker had been asked to do it again as soon as we had gotten into the back of the limo and begun our journey to Farthy.

  Momma had decided that once she and Tony were married, she would never drive herself anywhere again. It would be chauffeurs and limousines from now on, and whenever Miles wasn't available because he was driving Tony somewhere, Momma would simply hire a temporary limo and driver.

  During the days that followed our Thanksgiving dinner at Farthinggale Manor, I noticed other changes in her as well. She spent even more time on her hair and makeup, as impossible as that seemed, because she believed she had an even greater responsibility to look good now.

  "People know I'm to be Mrs. Tony Tatterton. They are looking at me more closely, expecting more. I am really in society now, Leigh."

  I didn't think her spending all this extra time on herself made any real difference. Her hair couldn't be any softer, her complexion any more peaches and cream. But I didn't say anything to her because I saw how important it all was to her. What made me feel bad was the way she talked about some of her old friends, even someone like Elizabeth Deveroe. I could tell she thought they had been all right to know when she had been married to Daddy, but now that she was to be Mrs. Tony Tatterton, they were just not good enough. After all, Elizabeth Deveroe was someone for whom she had once worked but would now be working for her.

  She always hesitated by her name and some of the other names of old friends when Mrs. Walker read down the list.

  "I'm a little sorry I invited them," she would say. "They are going to feel so out of place."

  On our way to Farthy for the rehearsal, she did cross off one particular couple who had not been mailed their invitation yet and added a new couple, the Kingsleys, because Louise Avery had told her, "Martin Kingsley, publisher of the Globe, has just returned from Moscow and he and his wife are two of the most sought-after dinner guests in town." She would add these little one-sentence explanations whenever she told Mrs. Walker to write a new name, but Mrs. Walker didn't seem to be impressed. Momma d
idn't notice or care. She was in her own world, happier than I had ever seen her.

  As we drove through the gates of Farthy, she was reviewing the menu again, wondering aloud if we needed an additional selection of hot hors d'oeuvres. Even though I wasn't really listening while she rattled on and on during our ride to Farthy, I said I thought it sounded as if there was enough of everything. I made the mistake of adding, "There will be more food than on one of Daddy's cruise ships." She squinted and pulled her mouth in as if she had been slapped.

  "Leigh, there will be no comparison. We're not preparing just to stuff people to give them the impression they're getting more for their money; I have hired some of the best gourmet chefs in Boston, each with a specialty. Why, the Frenchman who's preparing the lobster bisque is known everywhere, and . ."

  "But Ryse Williams is such a wonderful chef, Mommy. Couldn't he have done it all?"

  "Done it all?" She laughed and smiled at Mrs. Walker as if I were five years old. "Hardly. There is enough to keep ten chefs of Ryse Williams' caliber busy. Don't you worry about any of this," she said patting me on the knee. "You just worry about looking good in your dress."

  I had to admit I was nervous about it. As one of the bridesmaids, I was to wear a light pink strapless chiffon dress with white lace trim over the bodice and a full skirt. All of Momma's other bridesmaids were grown women. None would have my small shoulders, shoulders I still thought looked too bony, and none would be as dependent on a foam-filled bra to give them a womanly shape. I was sure I would look silly in this dress when I stood among the others, but Momma had chosen it herself to complement her wedding gown. None of the bridesmaids were permitted to wear necklaces and earrings either. Momma wanted her own jewelry to stand out and she wanted to be sure no one would upstage her, for some of these women were very wealthy and possessed famous diamonds.

  When the limo pulled up to the front steps of Farthinggale Manor, little Troy was outside with Mrs. Hastings, his nanny. She was nice enough, but the few times I had met her, I had had the feeling she was somewhat overwhelmed by the responsibilities. Troy was very clever for his age and had already figured out ways to outsmart her and get his own way. I saw from the way she was standing beside him as he worked on making a snowman that she was trying to coax him back into the house.

  But I also saw from the expression of intensity on his face that he was too involved in his creation even to hear her. He wore the same look he had worn while he and I colored in the pictures he had drawn: his eyes fixed, his face as still as the face of a granite statue. He was working on the details of the snowman's face, carving out the features with the back of a silver spoon.

  "Leigh!" he cried the moment I stepped out. "Come see my snowman. Come see."

  "You have to get right upstairs and get dressed," Momma warned. Mrs. Walker had gone to the car trunk with Miles to gather the garments. Curtis was already coming down the steps to help, little puffs of air popping from his mouth as he stepped down as quickly as I had ever seen him move. He hadn't put on a coat and in his vest, shirt and pants, he looked like an underdressed scarecrow.

  "That's the best snowman I have ever seen," it told Troy. He straightened up proudly and glanced at Mrs. Hastings, who had her gloved hands stuffed so deeply into her coat pockets, she looked as though she might tear the pockets out. "But we've all got to go inside and prepare for the wedding rehearsal. You too," I added, Mrs. Hastings' eyes growing warmer and more appreciative with my every word. "You're the best man, remember."

  "I know. Tony already told me I have to carry the ring."

  "Come on then. Let's get dressed. We'll come out and play in the snow later."

  "Promise?"

  "I promise," I said holding out my hand. He took it quickly and we followed Momma and Mrs. Walker into the house, Mrs. Hastings right behind us, her face in a wide smile.

  The wedding itself was to be held in the great entry hall. Momma would come down the stairway when the pianist played "Here Comes the Bride," and everyone would be forced to look up and watch her descend like some angel. Just under the stairway the minister would take his place and Tony and little Troy would wait. Cushioned folding chairs for the guests were already placed in the hallway. Tony had told Momma that this would be the fourth wedding ceremony held here. His great-grandfather, grandfather, and father were all married in Farthy. The hallway would reek of tradition, the great portraits of Tony's ancestors looking down as he and Momma recited the oaths of love and loyalty to each other.

  Tony emerged from his office as soon as our arrival had been announced. He wore his tuxedo pants and white shirt without a tie, his sleeves still open and without cufflinks. It was the first time I had seen him so informally dressed. For some reason, this way he reminded me even more of a movie star--he looked so tall and dashing.

  It bothered me that Tony was so handsome. Daddy wasn't an ugly man, but he was so much older, his face filled with wrinkles weathered by hours, days, months at sea. He wasn't as glamorous-looking; he never looked like a movie star, not that I loved him any less for it. But when Tony and Momma stood beside each other, they commanded everyone's attention. It was as if they had stepped off the cover of a fan magazine. It was very painful to admit that they looked so right for each other. It made me think of Daddy as farther and farther away, dwindling like some distant star that had died a million years ago. I desperately hoped that one day would marry a man just like him, except maybe a man who was less obsessed by his business.

  "Darling." Tony took Momma's hands and kissed her quickly on the lips. He smiled, his eyes looking mischievous. "Are you ready for the rehearsal?"

  "Of course."

  "Your dressing suite is all prepared." He turned to me. "Hi, Leigh. I bet you're not as nervous as I am."

  "Of course I am," I said sharply. I couldn't help it. How could he think I wouldn't be nervous . . . more than nervous . . upset? I didn't want to have anything to do with this wedding, and in order to keep from screaming this fact at him I swung my eyes away from his.

  "I'm not nervous," Troy chirped. That made everyone laugh, except me.

  "That's because you're not the one getting married," Tony told him. Troy just shrugged, but held onto my hand tightly. "Well, now is as good a time as any for me to show Leigh her suite of rooms," Tony said, slapping his hands together.

  "Yes, that would be wonderful. Won't it, Leigh?"

  "I've had them all redone as a surprise for you," Tony said, cutting his eyes sharply toward me. He held out his arm for me to take.

  I looked at Momma. She nodded and gestured with her eyes that I should take Tony's arm, 1 did so quickly.

  "Can I come too?" Troy begged.

  "You've got to get dressed yourself, young man. This is a full dress rehearsal," Tony said. "Except for the bride, of course," he added. "It's bad luck for the groom to see her in her wedding gown before the wedding."

  "I wanna . ."

  "Now Troy," Tony said and looked to Mrs. Hastings. "Come on, Troy. I'll help you get dressed."

  "I don't need help," he said petulantly. Momma scowled down at him and shook her head.

  "Right this way," Tony commanded and we ascended the stairway. Something about holding his arm made me nervous. My stomach butterflies were careering all over the place and I was sure I was blushing.

  Tony led me down left on the second floor and stopped before a set of double doors.

  "Here we are," he announced and threw open the double doors dramatically. "Leigh," he started. He reached his hand up and I thought he would touch my hair, but he quickly took his hand away. "I tried to make these rooms feminine, but not girlish. I hope you enjoy them," he added, his voice dropping into almost a whisper. His head was turned in a way that kept me from reading his eyes.

  The sunlight through the pale ivory sheers was misted and frail and gave the sitting room an unreal quality. The walls were covered in some delicate ivory silk fabric, woven through subtly with faint Oriental designs of green, violet, and bl
ue, and the two small sofas were covered with the same fabric, the accent pillows soft blue to match the Chinese rug on the floor.

  Despite my desire to dislike anything from this man I had to admit to myself that this was the most lovely room I had ever seen. I could easily picture myself in this room, cuddled down before that little fireplace.

  "What do you think?" He leaned back against the wall and formed a temple with his hands under his chin. He looked as though he were studying me.

  "It's a very pretty room. I never had my own sitting room," I added and then regretted saying that. It sounded as if I had been deprived.

  "Well, now you do," Tony said, standing up quickly. A smile touched his full, sensuous lips. "Come, see your bedroom." He moved ahead of me and opened the bedroom doors.

  What could I do? I didn't want to like it, to be impressed, to be thrilled and excited by my new home, but there before me was the loveliest, most darling, four-poster double bed with an arching canopy of heavy lace. The two rooms were done in my favorite colors: blue and ivory.

  There was a blue chaise and three chairs that matched those in the sitting room. I wandered on into the dressing and bathroom area. There were mirrors and lights everywhere, it seemed. And there were crystal chandeliers and hidden lights that lit up all the walk-in closets, one closet almost as big as my entire Boston bedroom.

  I sensed Tony right behind me and turned. He was standing so close, I felt his breath on my forehead and inhaled his after-shave lotion.

  "I hope you can be happy here, Leigh. Its almost as important to me as making your mother happy," he said softly. He was silent as I stared up at him.

  I wanted to scream back at him. I wanted to demand to know how he expected me to be happy. He had won my mother's heart away from my father and destroyed the only life, the only family, I had known. Daddy was off somewhere wandering the world, dazed and saddened by events that were taking place with lightning speed. Tony's good looks and sophisticated ways, his enormous wealth and family name, had stolen my mother away from my father, and now, he was raining down all sorts of luxuries on me, as though that were all it took to make him as important to me as my father, as though I could forgive all because of a beautiful room. I clenched and unclenched my hands at my sides to keep from striking him, for just then I may have hated him more than ever before!