All That Glitters Read online

  "Well, I don't want to take up any more of your time. This is a trying period for you and your family." He stood up and I rose slowly. He picked up the tickets and brought them to me, placing them in my hands. "I hope you and your husband will be able to attend the concert," he said. He held on to my fingers and fixed his dark brown eyes on mine with such intensity, I had to look down. When I looked up again, he was smiling. "You will recognize the piece, I'm sure," he whispered.

  "Louis . ."

  "I ask no questions, madame. I hope only that you will be in the audience."

  "I will."

  "Very good then."

  I walked him to the front door, where Aubrey gave him his hat. Then Louis turned to me.

  "I want you to know that your sister was a major influence on my life. She touched me deeply and restored my desire not only to live, but to continue my music. Her sweet, innocent nature, her pure outlook on things, restored my own faith in life and has given me the inspiration to write what I hope people will consider significant music. You should be very proud of her."

  "I am," I said.

  "We'll all pray for her, then."

  "Yes, we'll all pray," I said. The tears were trickling down my cheeks, but I made no attempt to wipe them away. "God bless you," I whispered, and Louis nodded and left. My heart sunk in my chest like a rock in the swamp canal. I finally wiped away my tears.

  One lie spawns another, Grandmere Catherine used to say. And then the lies feed upon each other like snakes feasting on their young.

  How many more lies would I have to tell? How much deeper did my deceptions have to go before I could live in peace with the man I loved? Louis knew the truth, discerned who I was. It made perfect sense. He had known me mostly through my voice, my touch. He had gone beneath the surface because the surface was dark to him, so he recognized me instantly. And yet he understood there were reasons for the switch of identities and he didn't challenge or do anything to jeopardize the intricate illusion Beau and I had conceived and performed. Louis cared for me too much to ask embarrassing questions.

  When Beau returned home that day, I told him about Louis's visit.

  "I remember him, remember you talking about him all the time. Do you think he'll keep what he knows to himself?"

  "Oh yes, Beau. Absolutely."

  "Perhaps we shouldn't attend that concert," Beau suggested.

  "I must go. He expects me to and I want to go." I spoke so firmly that Beau raised his eyebrows. He thought a moment.

  "It's not the sort of thing Gisselle would attend," he warned.

  "I'm tired of doing only the things Gisselle would do; tired of thinking only the thoughts she would think and saying only the things she would say. I feel like a prisoner trapped in my sister's identity!" I cried.

  "All right, Ruby."

  "I keep myself locked up in this house most of the time out of fear that I might go out and say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing without you at my side," I continued, my voice shrill.

  "I understand."

  "No, you don't. It's torture," I insisted.

  "We'll go to the concert. If anyone asks, you're doing it for me, that's all," he concluded.

  "Sure. I'm the stupid, crass, and insensitive one, a lump of. . . upper-class, spoiled flesh and bones," I moaned. Beau laughed. "Well?"

  "You're right. You've just described what Gisselle was."

  "Then how did you convince yourself to marry her?" I demanded, far more sharply than I had intended.

  I saw him wince. "I explained all that to you once, Ruby. The reasons haven't changed. I love you; I've loved only you," he said, and lowered his head before he turned to walk away.

  I stood there feeling absolutely dreadful. It seemed there was no one I wouldn't hurt in this state of mind. Everyone I loved was in emotional pain as well as myself. My mind did flip-flops. How did I get all of us into this twisted and painful situation? I was drowning, drowning in that old familiar pool of hopeless despair.

  Of course, I realized it wasn't entirely my fault. : eau shouldn't have deserted me and driven me to the point where I believed there was no hope for myself and my baby if I didn't marry Paul, and Paul shouldn't have pleaded and persuaded and worn me down with his temptations of a rich comfortable life. Most of all, Gisselle shouldn't have taken advantage and married Beau just to hurt me. I had already learned she didn't really love him; she had been unfaithful to him, who knew how many times? We're all guilty of something that brought us to this point, I thought, but that didn't make me feel better nor diminish my own sense of blame.

  Still, what good did it do to bite at each other now? What good did it do to add to the turmoil that already existed and may never end? I thought. I went after him and found him standing in the study, gazing out the window.

  "I'm sorry, Beau," I said. "I didn't mean to explode like that."

  He turned slowly and smiled. "It's all right. You have a right to explode now and again. You are under a great deal of pressure. It's much easier for me. I just have to be myself and I can occupy myself with the business. I should be more understanding and more sensitive to your needs. I'm sorry."

  "Let's not argue about it, then," I said.

  He came to me and took my shoulders into his hands. "I can't imagine ever getting angry at you, Ruby. If I do, I will hate myself more for it afterward. I promise you that," he said, and then we kissed and held each other and walked out to the patio together to see how Pearl was doing with Mrs. Ferrier.

  I decided that nothing Gisselle had in her wardrobe was right for Louis's concert, and so I went out and purchased an elegant ankle-length black velvet gown. When Beau saw me in it, he was quiet for a long moment. Then he shook his head. "What?" I demanded.

  "Only the most insensitive clod wouldn't see the difference between you and your sister and realize who you really are," he said.

  "That's because you know me so well, Beau. On the surface Gisselle wouldn't look all that different from me if she wore something like this, too. She was just not interested in looking like a mature woman. She thought that wasn't sexy."

  "Perhaps you're right," he said. "In any case, she was wrong if she thought sophisticated wasn't sexy. You take my breath away." He thought a moment and then nodded. "I think tonight you should wear one of Daphne's diamond necklaces. Gisselle would," he added pointedly.

  I sighed, looked at myself in the mirror, and agreed I could use something to dress my neck.

  "Besides," Beau continued, chasing away my hesitation, "why hold it against the jewelry? The diamonds couldn't choose who would be their owner, could they?"

  I laughed and went to Daphne's jewel box.

  "I'm sure they never looked as good on her," Beau said, beaming, after I put on the necklace I recalled my father had bought her.

  "No, they did, Beau. As bad as she was and as cruel as she could be to us, she was still a beautiful woman, an enchantress who captured my father's heart and love and then twisted and tormented him because of it."

  "And his brother, too," Beau reminded me.

  "Yes, and his brother, too," I said, thinking about poor Uncle Jean.

  It was good to crawl out from under my dark, heavy thoughts and get out for an elegant evening. The richest and most renowned people in New Orleans were attending Louis's concert. It filled my heart with joy to see his name in lights and his picture on the billboards. We followed the parade of expensive automobiles and limousines to the front of the theater, where drivers and doormen leapt to open the doors for women in designer gowns and men in tuxedos. When we stepped out into the lights, I felt as if all eyes were on me, watching my every move, listening to my every word. Recalling what Beau had said about Gisselle's attending such an affair, I tried to appear unhappy and uncomfortable. The uncomfortable part wasn't hard because I was so nervous.

  Those who approached us to talk all asked about Ruby's condition. "Unchanged," was Beau's stock response. They looked sympathetic for a moment and then went on quickly to discu
ss other things. Most of the people who attended held season tickets and followed all the concerts. I was surprised at how many knew about Louis, how he had composed music while he was blind and then, as he regained his vision, began performing throughout Europe.

  Since none of Gisselle's friends would attend such a concert, I had no problem dealing with their surprise at seeing me dressed this way. Nevertheless, I was happy when we finally were seated and the audience grew quiet. The conductor walked out to the sound of applause and then Louis entered to an even greater ovation. He took his seat at the piano, the hall grew absolutely still, and the music began.

  As Louis played concerto after concerto, I closed my eyes and recalled those nights at his grandmother's mansion. Memories flooded back. I saw him sitting at his piano, his eyes shut in darkness, but his fingers bringing him light and putting a glow in his face. I remembered the way we would sit together on the stool as he played, and I remembered his touching me and kissing me. Then I recalled his great outburst of tears and emotion in his room when he finally told me the dreadful story of his parents, his mother's obsession with him and his father's anger.

  Like the rainbow after the storm, Louis had risen out of this turmoil and pain to become a worldclass pianist. It filled my heart with not only warmth and joy, but hope for Beau, Pearl, and myself. Our storm would end soon, too, I thought, and we would have a quiet, sweet aftermath.

  Finally, before the concert ended, Louis got up and addressed the audience. "This last piece, as your program explains, is entitled Ruby's Symphony. It's a piece inspired by a wonderful young lady who came into my life briefly and helped me to find hope and self-confidence again. You might say she showed me the light at the end of the tunnel. So it is with particular pleasure that I play this for you tonight," he said. Only a few people in the audience suspected it was actually me, Ruby Dumas, for whom the music had been written and to whom it had been dedicated.

  Beau held my hand but said nothing. I tried not to cry, for fear people would notice, but holding back these tears was a feat beyond Samson. My cheeks were soaked by the time the music ended; however, the audience had been enraptured and everyone rose to his feet to applaud. Beau and I did, too. Louis took his bows and left the stage in glorious success.

  "I just have to go backstage to see and congratulate him, Beau," I said.

  "Of course," he said.

  Louis's dressing room was packed with people complimenting him. Champagne bottles were popping open all over the place. I thought we wouldn't get within five feet of him, but he spotted me in the back of the crowd and beckoned us forward, asking people to step aside. Naturally all eyes were on us, people wondering, who were these special guests?

  "It was wonderful, Louis," I said. "I'm so glad we were able to attend."

  "Yes, spectacular," Beau added.

  "Thank you. I'm so happy I could bring a little joy into your lives at this particularly trying time, Madame Andreas." He kissed my hand.

  "I wish Gisselle's sister could have been here herself," Beau said quickly, and loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. My heart paused in the silence that followed. Louis's smile widened.

  "Yes, don't we all?" he said. "But of course, in a real sense, she was," he added with a soft smile. We gazed at each other for a moment and then another champagne bottle was popped and Louis's attention was drawn away long enough for Beau and me to effect a graceful retreat.

  My heart felt like a twisted ball of Spanish moss in my chest. Even with the car window wide open and my face practically in the breeze, I couldn't get enough air.

  "I'm happy you talked me into going to that concert," Beau said. "He really was spectacular. I'm not just saying it. When he played, the music had a life of its own and melodies I had heard before suddenly became as beautiful as I imagine they were meant to be."

  "Yes, he has an extraordinary talent."

  "You should be proud you helped him regain his purpose in life," Beau said.

  "I don't know how much I really had to do with it."

  "One look in his eyes told me you had all to do with it," Beau said. "But I'm not jealous," he added quickly with a smile. "You passed through his life like some angel of mercy, touched him and went on. But you are my life."

  He drew me to his side and kissed me quickly. I snuggled against him and felt truly safe and happy for the first time since our arrival in New Orleans as man and wife. That night we made love gently, gracefully, sweetly, and fell asleep in each other's arms. Both of us slept longer than usual. Not even the sunlight streaming in through the windows woke us, and Beau had disconnected our telephone at the bed so we wouldn't be disturbed.

  I was the first to hear Aubrey's footsteps and gentle knock. At first I thought I was dreaming. Then I opened my eyes and listened again. Beau groaned when I stirred.

  "Just a moment," I called, and got up to put on my robe. Beau turned over in bed and closed his eyes again.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you, madame, but Madame Pitot is on the phone and she is rather distraught. She insisted I bring you to the phone immediately."

  "Thank you, Aubrey," I said. I went to the night table and plugged in our telephone, my hands already shaking badly in anticipation of bad news.

  "What is it?" Beau asked, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  "It's Jeanne," I said, and lifted the receiver.

  "Hello, Jeanne."

  "She's dead," she said in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a corpse itself. "She died early this morning. Paul was there, holding her hand."

  "What?"

  "Ruby's gone. They told me to call you. No one else wanted to do it. I'm sorry if I woke you up. You can go back to sleep," she added.

  "Jeanne, when? How?"

  "What do you mean, when, how? It wasn't exactly unexpected, was it? But you have a way of avoiding unpleasant things, ignoring them, don't you, Gisselle? Well, the Grim Reaper doesn't tolerate being ignored, even by rich, high-society Creoles from New Orleans."

  "How's Paul?" I asked quickly, ignoring her bitter sarcasm.

  "He won't leave her side. He's following the body every step of the way, even to the undertaker's parlor. He won't listen to my parents. He's uttered only one sensible sentence, and to me because he knew I was calling you."

  "What was that?"

  "He told me to tell you not to bring the baby to the funeral. He doesn't want her seeing any of it. That is, if you attend the funeral."

  "Of course we'll be at the funeral," I said. "She was my sister."

  "Yes, she was your sister," Jeanne said dryly. "I'm sorry. I can't talk anymore. You can call later and ask James for the details about the funeral,"

  After I cradled the phone, I sat back on the bed. I felt as if all my blood had drained down to my feet. I chocked back a sob.

  Beau knew but asked anyway. "What

  happened?"

  "She died this morning."

  He shook his head and released a deep sigh. I felt his hand on my shoulder. We both sat silently for a moment, digesting the reality of what had happened.

  "At least it's over," he said. "Finally."

  I turned to him. "Oh, Beau, it's so strange."

  "What?"

  "Their thinking it's me who died. I couldn't bear the sadness and the anger in Jeanne's voice."

  "Yes, but this seals it forever. You and I, just as I told you, as I promised. We've defeated Fate."

  I shook my head. These were words that should be making me happy, but all they did was fill my heart with heavy dread. I had felt Fate's surprising and unexpected stings before. I didn't have Beau's confidence and probably never would have.

  Despite all the terrible things Gisselle had done to me in the past, and despite her jealousy and her way of looking down at me because I had been brought up in the bayou, a Cajun, I couldn't help but recall the softer moments when I would look at her and see her desire to be loved and to be a real sister. I know Beau would tell me I had a heart so soft it must b
e made of marshmallow, but I couldn't help shedding tears for the Gisselle I saw longing to be wanted.

  Later in the afternoon, I called and spoke to James. He was very polite, but cold, too. I couldn't think of anything stranger than attending my own memorial service and burial. When we arrived at Cypress Woods on the day of the funeral, we found the pallor of death and gloom had settled over the grand house and grounds. The leaden sky had grown swollen and turgid, the thick overcast stretching from one horizon to another. The darkness stole the blush from the petals of flowers and put shadows

  everywhere I looked. Grounds staff, the bereaving, everyone looked weighted down by the tragedy. People whispered, glided, touched and hugged each other as if to join in a circle to keep the melancholy at bay. I thought the servants looked the saddest, their eyes bloodshot, their shoulders slumped.

  It was hard, if not impossible, for me to accept expressions of condolence and sympathy. I felt horrible about deceiving people in grief and turned and walked away as quickly as I could. But once again, people mistook my feelings for Gisselle's indifference and selfishness.

  Paul's parents, his sisters, Toby and Jeanne, and Jeanne's husband stationed themselves in the living room, where they greeted people. I felt Gladys Tate's eyes fix on me with a cold glare the moment I entered, and then I thought I saw a sneer in her knife-sliced mouth when I greeted her. She made me feel so uncomfortable, I left the room as quickly as I could.

  Paul kept himself secluded most of the time. We understood he was drinking heavily. The only people he would see were his immediate family, mainly his mother. He even shut his door to Beau and me. Toby, who went up to inform him that I was there, returned to tell me he said it was too painful for him to gaze at me since I resembled Ruby so much. Beau and I looked at each other with surprise.

  "He's really overdoing it now," Beau admitted in a whisper.

  I was very worried and went up to his suite anyway. I knocked on the door and waited, but he didn't respond. I tried the handle, but the door was locked.

  "Paul, it's me. Open the door. We have to talk. Please," I begged. Beau stood back to be sure no one overheard my pleas.