The Shadows of Foxworth Read online

  “No.”

  “Then you’ll surely want to come.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Oh, don’t make your mind up now,” he said. He sounded less arrogant and demanding. “You have to see Foxworth Hall and the lake and let that help you decide.”

  “But—”

  Daniel was turning back to me.

  Malcolm leaned in quickly to whisper, “I’ll have a train ticket delivered to the Dawson House, one you can use at your discretion. You just let me know, and there’ll be a car waiting for you at the station in Charlottesville. Don’t let this magnificent weather pass us by,” he said, then glanced at Daniel and stepped away.

  Us? I thought.

  “What did he want now?” Daniel demanded. “Did he ask you anything about the company? Any properties? The Foxworths have quite the reputation for stealing someone else’s business.”

  “No, Daniel. He didn’t mention business. He was just bragging about his home.”

  “Um,” Daniel said, looking after Malcolm, who had joined his friends again.

  “Is it as big as he claims?”

  “Yes,” Daniel said. “But he had little to do with it. He’s inherited everything. Those sorts of men are spoiled and stupid. He’ll lose it all eventually. Would you like some coffee or tea or…”

  “I think I’d just rather go home, if you don’t mind,” I said. My boredom with most of the event had turned into emotional fatigue. But probably what most made me want to leave was the idea of being alone to think about Malcolm Foxworth. I had thought I’d never find a young man as good-looking as Yvon. Dare I think he was even better-looking? He was certainly far more outgoing and possessed what my heart told me was a dangerous charm. He seemed to have it all: good looks, wealth, intelligence, and an exciting personality.

  As Daniel led me out, I couldn’t help but look back, and to my delight, Malcolm was watching me go. He nodded and smiled with a very slight bow as he raised his glass. I felt my heart flutter and surprised Daniel with my quickened steps.

  “Boy, you really want to get out of here,” he said.

  Oh, no, I thought. I really don’t.

  12

  All the way home from the real estate banquet, I debated whether or not I should tell Yvon about Malcolm Foxworth. I doubted I could talk about him without revealing how he had touched me inside as if his fingers had grazed my heart. I had always been troubled by Yvon keeping something secret from me. Surely, it would be even more painful for me if he thought I would keep him from knowing about this. Who else did I trust for advice, after all? And he would be angry because he believed he was supposed to be my father and mother now.

  But another part of me thought I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I could have personal secrets and personal feelings that perhaps I could share with a girlfriend but weren’t appropriate to share with a man, even if that man was my brother. Surely, he was keeping his most intimate thoughts about Karen Thomas to himself and not sharing them with me. That was rightly so.

  When Mama was alive, she and I told each other things we wouldn’t tell Papa and Yvon, and Yvon had done the same with Papa. Mama and I revealed intimate girl things to each other. How could I tell Yvon about the achings and longings that woke me up at night? Similar things must have happened to him and might even be happening to him now, too. I would expect he would keep that to himself. It was only natural for us all to be that way, wasn’t it?

  Then why did I have even an iota of guilt about it? I blamed it on my inexperience, which led to natural fear, but if I was going to be a mature woman, I would have to solve womanly problems myself. Aunt Effie was certainly no one for me to go to with personal questions, and I wasn’t close enough with anyone else yet, even Karen. I also thought it might not be nice to talk to her about someone other than her brother.

  Probably because I was so quiet, so deep in thought, while Daniel brought me home, he seemed quite worried that I’d had a disappointing night with him. Maybe he was afraid I would say something unkind about him to Yvon or even Aunt Effie. Or maybe he was truly disappointed that I hadn’t been more excited about and more grateful for being with him.

  “I’m sorry if I spent too much time talking business,” he said as we arrived at the Dawson House. “But I picked up a few important bits of information that your aunt and Mr. Simon will appreciate. I really did.”

  “I understand, and I’m sure you did. You’re right. My aunt will be pleased.”

  “But I was hoping to please you, too.”

  “Oh, it was all quite an experience for me. It was very nice, Daniel. Thank you for taking me,” I said as he helped me out of the car. “And thank you for the corsage.”

  “Maybe I can take you to something more fun in the near future,” he suggested. “I promise I won’t spend a moment on anyone or anything else but you.” He smiled and waited for some encouragement.

  I was so reluctant to raise his expectations that even though I wanted to sound polite, I nearly choked on the words. “Of course. We’ll see,” I added.

  “See you at work,” he said.

  He hesitated, hoping that I would just move my head a little toward him to encourage a good-night kiss, but I just nodded and turned toward the door.

  He stood there a moment, surely disappointed, and then he got into his car and drove off.

  The house was so quiet. I wondered if Yvon had come home before I had. I walked softly toward the stairway, and when I reached the doorway of the sitting room, I heard my aunt say, “Come in here.”

  Wearing a heavy white wool shawl, she was sitting on one of the cushion chairs reading a book. I was surprised, because it was a novel, The Custom of the Country by Edith Wharton. In my mind, my aunt read nothing but numbers and property descriptions. I had never seen her even read a magazine. She always turned first to the business section of the newspaper. She saw my eyes go to the cover when she had closed it and quickly put it upside down on the table beside her. As Jean-Paul would say, she looked like someone caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

  “Well? Don’t just stand there looking dim. Why do you think I called you in here? Tell me about the event,” she said.

  “The hotel is incredibly beautiful,” I began. “I have never seen anything quite as big and decorative.”

  She grunted. “And?”

  “There were quite a few people, some of the women very dressed up, so I was glad I wore my mother’s pearls. Considering what some women wore, I would have looked naked without them.”

  “And the event?” she said, with a sharper, impatient tone.

  “The food was very good. There were very good musicians playing, but there was so much noise from all the conversations going on it was difficult to hear them unless you were close. Why didn’t anyone tell me there were alligators in the lobby? They were sleeping but still quite scary.”

  She stared at me. “Alligators. That’s what impressed you the most? I do forget how young you are.”

  “I’m not that young.”

  She looked away and then at me again, as if she was being forced to talk to me. “You shouldn’t be. When I was your age, I had more responsibilities than most older women, more than my mother had. That was for sure.”

  She pulled herself up in the chair.

  “What do you think of Daniel Thomas?” she asked. “Now that you were with him outside of the office?”

  “He’s nice. He is very dedicated to your company.”

  “It’s a family company,” she said sharply. “But I expect no less from my employees. When you become part of something as big as Dawson Enterprises, it should become a part of you. Did you behave? Am I going to hear something awful tomorrow?”

  “Of course not.”

  She nodded. “We’ll see. What did you learn that you could bring with you to the company tomorrow? You have to prove your value every day.”

  “I didn’t think I was there to do that. That was why you sent Daniel, wasn’t it?”

  She stared at me with such disappointment.

  “Why didn’t you go yourself?” I asked her, now feeling more annoyed.

  “I was hoping by now you would be alert enough to notice that women are just not at the forefront of the business world. Men talk to men when it comes to that. Mr. Simon was on another assignment for us, but you’re at least as absorbent as a sponge. Didn’t you soak up anything while Daniel was discussing business? Didn’t you hear anything new about our industry?”

  “The bank president talked about the future of Richmond.”

  “And?”

  “He talked about railroads and electric cars and things like that.”

  “Things like that? How impressive. I’m expecting you to start to develop more interest in your future, the Dawson future. It is very much tied to Richmond’s future. The event should have held more interest for you besides how you looked in your mother’s pearls, but I fear you’ve grown up believing your life could be in a novel, especially now.”

  I thought that would be it, the end of her reprimand. She looked down, and I was about to turn and go upstairs when she looked up again and asked, “I’m sure there were quite a few young men there. Did you flirt with anyone and embarrass Daniel?”

  “What? No.”

  Could she have heard about my meeting Malcolm Foxworth already?

  “Daniel is a fine young man. He has a future in the business.”

  “Probably,” I said, but not with much enthusiasm.

  Her eyes narrowed. “But he’s not someone you could imagine yourself with?”

  “As a wife?”

  “Not as a secretary forever, no.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. Was she responsible for Daniel asking me to the event? Was she trying to plan out my l
ife, as I suspected? Did she want me married off and out of the house, maybe away from Aunt Pauline? All sorts of suspicions were racing through my mind.

  “You don’t think so? What? He’s not a prince on a white horse or something? I am sure I am the first to warn you that romantic love is an extravagant emotion. It’s rarely worth the cost. Passion lives only a short time, especially for men. The definition of a man’s eyes is wandering orbs. It’s in their nature to be dishonest and disloyal.”

  “My father wasn’t like that.”

  She smiled and shook her head. I felt the ire stirring up again inside me. She could blow the lid off a kettle just by standing near it.

  “How could a woman marry anyone if she believed that? Is that why you never married?” I asked.

  “The man my father thought I should marry died very young, and it wasn’t long after that my father died and my brother ran off, leaving me with so much to do that I was unable to spend that much time on my own life, developing personal relationships. Can you imagine that happening to you? Do you think I wanted my life to be like this?” she asked, her voice a bit more shrill. “My father wasn’t in the ground an hour before I was troubled with one financial decision after another, and my sister… my sister’s enough for ten of me.”

  She took a deep breath and looked away again. I just stared at her. Suddenly, she was sounding so different. She blamed others for her troubles, especially my father, but she never showed this much self-pity in front of me, only anger. It was as if the real Aunt Effie had stepped out from behind a wall, if only for a few moments.

  “Your life flies by faster than you think,” she said, now looking like she was talking to herself. “And whatever opportunities you had are gone.”

  “Why did you have to marry only the man your father wanted you to marry? Wasn’t there anyone else?”

  She looked at me again. “He was wiser.”

  “Always?” I asked. Should I bring up Aunt Pauline’s story? I wondered. Now was a perfect time for it.

  “I believed in him,” she said.

  “Always?”

  We stared at each other. Did she sense what I knew?

  “You can go to sleep now,” she said, returning to the tone I was more accustomed to hearing. “I expect everyone to be at work when he or she is supposed to be there.”

  She picked up the book again. I stood there for a moment. I was going to say something nasty about it, but suddenly, I realized she really was suffering, and I thought I knew why. She read novels about women who sought love just the way someone without money would only stand outside the Thomases’ bakery and look through the window at the cookies. What you couldn’t have tormented you. Why willingly look through the window and tease yourself?

  She looked up sharply as if to say, Dismissed.

  I wanted to say something nice, something sympathetic, but then thought surely she would hate me for pitying her.

  “Good night,” I said, and left her.

  I saw the lock was fastened on Aunt Pauline’s door as usual. I listened for a moment and then went down to Yvon’s room. I knocked and waited, but there was no response. I opened the door and looked in. His bed was still made.

  At least one of us is enjoying the evening, I thought, and went to my room.

  When I stopped to look at myself in the mirror, I saw Malcolm Foxworth smiling at me. Boys flirted with me in Villefranche, but it was never anything like this. As short as the contact between us was, it felt like there was more to it than his merely toying with me. Was I imagining it, wishing for it, or had he really looked at me with more than the usual interest he might have in a new girl? No, I was confident that something about me pleased him deeply, just as something about him touched me in a way I had never felt.

  I laughed to myself, recalling Aunt Pauline’s requirement for a boyfriend. He had to have sweet lips. There was little doubt in my mind that Malcolm Foxworth did.

  I began to undress and then stopped, turning back to the mirror. I imagined him standing there again. He was so vivid in my mind that my face flushed with excitement. Every article of clothing I removed added to it. My heart beat faster. In moments, I was stark naked before the mirror, which was now filled with Malcolm Foxworth gazing at me with such delight and lust that I couldn’t help but touch myself just the way I thought he would. I ran my palms softly over my breasts, making my nipples erect. I brought my hands to my hips and then slowly moved them until they covered my patch of hair. I closed my eyes and imagined they were his hands and felt the surge of warmth moving up between my thighs. My heart was pounding. I moaned softly and envisioned his “sweet lips” just touching mine and then pulling back in a tease before he brought them harder to mine, the kiss lighting up my blood and sending it to every sensitive and welcoming part of me.

  Gently, very slightly, I rolled my hips and pressed my body harder against my hands. My eyes closed and then fluttered open. When I saw myself in the mirror, I moved faster and faster. Malcolm was whispering in my ear. My mouth watered, my lips pursed. The excitement inside me raged and then burst, and I moaned louder and louder until it stopped, and I struggled to catch my breath. As soon as I had, I rushed to put on my nightgown and then sat on my bed, staring at the mirror like someone stunned and frightened.

  What had I just done, envisioning Malcolm?

  Did that make it sinful?

  I don’t know how long I sat there, but finally I heard a gentle knock on my door. I pressed my hands against my cheeks to see if they were as hot as they had been. There was a second knock, and then I heard Yvon whisper my name when he opened the door slightly. After a few quick breaths, I turned and said, “Yes?”

  He stepped in. “Aunt Effie told me you had just gotten home. How was it?” he asked.

  I looked at the mirror again, as if I thought he would, too, and see what had happened.

  “Mostly boring,” I said. “I nearly fell asleep listening to the speeches, but the food was good, and there were alligators! Why didn’t you tell me there were alligators?”

  “I was never there,” he said, shrugging. “It just slipped my mind. What about Daniel? Was he nice to be with?”

  “He was nice, but he spent a lot more time talking to other real estate people. I wandered about because I never saw anyplace like it, and…”

  “And what?”

  I didn’t want to tell him how I had rushed toward Malcolm Foxworth and why. Instinctively, I feared he would think I was too immature to have gone out on a date, especially such a formal one, and probably did make a fool of myself.

  “And I saw the alligators, but they looked asleep. Soon after, we went in to eat.”

  He nodded, looking like Aunt Effie had already related all this to him.

  “How about you? Did you have a good time?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. We enjoyed the show, and we had some great chicken and dumplings at this small restaurant Karen knew. Then we just walked and talked. She likes you a lot. I promised we’d go on a picnic soon.”

  “Not with Daniel, too?” I moaned.

  He laughed. “He can be a bore, I guess. He’s ambitious. Aunt Effie likes him. He’s done some good work for the company, and that seems to be all he cares about right now.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m a witness.”

  He thought a moment. “Well, maybe we’ll take Aunt Pauline with us. I’ll say you have to look after her and convince Daniel he wouldn’t have any fun.”

  “I almost told Aunt Effie what Aunt Pauline had told me.”

  “I asked you not to, Marlena.”

  “I know, but she talks about her father as if he was some sort of perfect man and—”

  “What’s past is past. What good will you do knocking him? Don’t do it.” His face was reddening quickly. He looked like he was in actual pain.

  “Okay, Yvon. Okay.”

  “Let’s go to sleep. I’m visiting a prospective purchase early tomorrow with Daniel.” He relaxed and smiled. “Everything will be great. You’ll see. I believe she’s thinking about drawing up papers to ensure we’re part of the Dawson company’s ownership. Mr. Simon sort of hinted about it today.”

  “Okay, Yvon.”

  He stood there a moment as if he was deciding whether or not to kiss me good night the way Papa often did. I think he was too embarrassed to do it and just smiled again before leaving and closing the door softly behind him.