Woman's Own Page 14

  “But was it wonderful? Elegant?”

  “Do you mean until suddenly, left without a proper escort home, I was forced to begin walking? As you might imagine, a very lovely night ended badly.”

  “But why? Oh, Patsy, why were you left? Did you do something daring? Did you say something mean? Did you dance with a lot of men? Did you tell where we live so that they could call?”

  Patricia’s expression never changed from that perturbed, but sullen look she had been wearing since returning from her fancy ball. She was barely civil and, for the first time ever, had no grand ideas, plans, or melodramatic descriptions. But in answer to Lilly’s questions, a spark of anger had lit Patricia’s eyes. Looking away, she had answered, “I did not say or do anything to warrant Mary Ellen’s shabby treatment of me. I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Well, it’s the first time in history you haven’t been able to talk about something, Patsy Armstrong. Just what are you plotting now? Come along and tell, then. Don’t I keep all your secrets, even when I shouldn’t?”

  “How am I to plot when I’m not allowed any farther than the porch swing? It would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”

  Lilly paid close attention. No gentlemen who met her at the fancy ball had come to the house, Mary Ellen did not attempt to reconcile, and Emily and Mr. Padgett whispered quite often. Patricia wore an air of superiority, censure, but for whom and what, Lilly was unsure. It seemed as though Patricia had dismissed them all--the fancy people at the party, the friend who had loaned her clothes, the mother who disciplined her, the sister who was nearly dying of curiosity. She was not warm or grateful toward Mr. Padgett, who had rescued her. She had not apologized. Indeed, she did not show remorse or express any regrets, as though she were above reproach. The fact was, Lilly believed, Patricia had gone completely hard-boiled.

  The horsecar slowed as they came to Rittenhouse Square. Lilly wanted to get off here, walk across the square and pass the theater. She glanced around for Andrew, but couldn’t imagine what she’d say to him with Patricia present. She was frankly surprised that Patricia did not protest. There was something quite peculiar about Patricia’s docility.

  “I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in this lecture,” Lilly said as they walked.

  “Well, it’s not as though I had plans of my own,” Patricia said.

  “You have no plans of any kind,” Lilly said. “And it’s the first time ever.” Lilly looked at Patricia, but Patricia stared straight ahead. She looked older somehow. Her neck was long and lovely above her high-collared, starched blouse. Emily left the whole matter of the forbidden haircut alone, and Patricia pulled her hair into a clutch of curls on the back of her head and wore her ringlets around her face. But it was not the hairstyle that changed her, it was her lifted chin, her cold eyes, and her obstinate posture. “I wish I knew what you wanted, Patsy,” Lilly said. “I’d get it for you so you could be happy again.”

  “I’m perfectly happy,” Patricia replied, her voice chilly.

  “You’re about as happy as a corpse. And I don’t understand it at all.”

  Patricia had the simplest of desires, the simplest of goals, and no one understood. While she wept from a broken heart in Mr. Padgett’s coach, he lectured her that she’d mistaken all those fancy strangers for decent people. In her heart she ached to have something to be proud of, something to flaunt, something that would impress people, and Mr. Padgett had only misinterpreted this, suggesting that she was foolish to forsake a perfectly nice lot in life. He did not understand that she was only trying to better herself. She was striving. In the only way she knew.

  She hoped Lilly would sympathize, understand she had only intended to meet people, to make friends, perhaps find a new beau --a man of greater possibility. Even Lilly ridiculed her, calling her deceitful and selfish, asking straight out what she’d done or said to warrant mistreatment.

  None of the fashionable young men who had danced with her bothered to call on her--another failure. And their mother! Emily acted as though Patricia were a fallen woman, someone shameful. She didn’t say so, but it was all in what Emily had not said.

  Patricia wouldn’t talk to them, not even to Sophia. But they were talking about her. Even John Giddings somehow knew. John almost never spoke to her, but he shyly asked her if there was any way he could help her! As if she were at the fulcrum of a great scandal!

  As she walked across Rittenhouse Square with her sister, she imagined this outing a mere formality, another disappointment to be shouldered. She supposed that Dale Montaine would not appear, just as her escort had failed her at the party and her dance partners had forgotten her address. Patricia didn’t know exactly where and how she had miscalculated in her plan. She didn’t feel she wanted very much from life. Unlike her mother and sister, she just wanted to have a life that was as little trouble as possible. She wanted only to have fun and couldn’t imagine a woman wanting to have a lot of work. Perhaps if she were naturally quite smart, like Lilly, she would want to become the smartest woman in the world. Or, if she were naturally energetic and proper, she might want a boardinghouse full of people to take care of like her mother’s. In Patricia’s mind Lilly and Emily proved themselves daily, through studies or chores or good deeds. People often commented on Lilly’s intelligence or Emily’s fortitude and charity, but the only compliments Patricia received concerned her good looks and charm. Among so many homely and boring women, she found it odd that a nice, well-to-do gentleman hadn’t discovered that what Patricia had to offer was worth a great deal.

  She finally came to the only possible conclusion: Mary Ellen had let her down. Perhaps she had been just a little bit too flirtatious, a trifle too daring. She had learned a few things. Given her enforced seclusion, she had plenty of time to think things over and decide on a better way to proceed. She was relieved in a way. She was tired of being alluring, of being pawed and slobbered on by potential husbands. She needed a little rest. She was almost glad that the fancy party had not proved to be the beginning of a wonderful and elegant life. Apparently, an elegant life was more exhausting than it appeared to be.

  It’s just as well, then, she thought glumly.

  Lilly read the theater bills over and over while Patricia waited, faintly envious. It would be nice to have some interest she could pursue alone, some fascinating study that did not involve acting out parts and worrying constantly about whether there would be someone at hand to admire her. It would be nice, she thought, not to be lonely.

  “I wondered if you’d come. I’m glad you did.”

  She had so convinced herself that he had forgotten, his voice actually startled her. “Dale!”

  “My coach is just around the corner. Come for a ride?”

  Patricia glanced at her sister.

  “She won’t tell anyone, will she? She’s your sister, after all.”

  It occurred to Patricia that Dale had proven himself, in a sense. His presence confirmed his genuine attraction to her. She decided to challenge him further, to find out just how much he was willing to endure to have her.

  “You might as well know,” she said, “that I’m in terrible trouble over that awful party. I didn’t tell my mother I was going, and my friends abandoned me there, left me without an escort or a ride home, and now my punishment is that I’m confined. If I failed to attend the lecture with my sister today, she would not only tell Mama, my punishment would stretch out for the rest of my life.”

  “Why didn’t you tell your mother about the senator’s party? Wouldn’t she have been delighted that you’d been invited?”

  “Of course she should have been, but Mama isn’t like that at all. She isn’t impressed by fancy parties, and she is just very strict. When she makes up her mind about something, she is impossible!”

  He smiled, though his lips hardly moved and his teeth did not show. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. A lock of his dark hair fell forward on his forehead and his brown eyes were leveled into
hers. “And, she’s made up her mind about me, has she?”

  “As a matter of fact--”

  “Then we’ll have to be very careful to show her I’m not such a bad fellow. Anyone would let his temper show when the girl he wants is taken by another.”

  “I haven’t been taken by anyone. Not yet.”

  “Perhaps you’d rather a beau who doesn’t care how many other men you’re interested in. Hmmm?”

  “You were jealous?” she asked coyly.

  “Come now, you know perfectly well you’re the most beautiful woman in Philly. Don’t pretend you don’t know it.”

  “I don’t know any such thing,” she said, lowering her eyes and her chin. Underneath her downcast and demure posture, her lips curved upward. This was how she intended it. Didn’t men want beautiful and charming women?

  His finger lifted her chin. His dark eyes were strong, intense. “I want you. And you know it. And I think you want me as well.”

  “What do you want me for, Dale?”

  He dropped his hand from her chin. His concentration caused him to frown slightly. “I want you to be on my arm at the balls, at the parties. I want you to ride with me to the horse races and cricket matches in an open carriage so that everyone in Philadelphia knows that the most beautiful woman in the city is mine. And if you don’t have any intention of being the woman with me, tell me now. I don’t want to waste my time.”

  For a moment Patricia thought about her actual dislike for him. But there was no other, and she wanted those things he described. “Of course I want it to be me, Dale. But I can’t defy my mother without making it much more difficult than it already is. She is angry, you see.”

  “Well, we can’t have that. When do you suppose the cage will be opened and my little bird will fly again?”

  Lilly turned from the bills and saw Patricia talking to Dale. Lilly glared at them, then turned back.

  “It won’t be soon,” Patricia said. “On the other hand, if I’m very well behaved, Mama can’t really hold me prisoner forever.”

  “It will seem like forever,” he said. “I’ve looked forward to this day all through the week.”

  “I think you’re only trying to flatter me, Dale. Didn’t you have anything more exciting than this to do with your time?”

  “I have plenty to do, but I would like to do it with you.”

  All along I was right, she thought. It was too simple an idea to be wrong--men, especially rich, passionate, and popular men like Dale wouldn’t waste their time on ugly, boring women. Why should he treat a woman from a rich family with any more deference than he would show me? Doesn’t he already have piles of money? Why should he want a more prestigious bride? Everyone in Philadelphia knew about the Montaines! Dale wants beauty and charm. He has everything else already. “I’ll be allowed out. Soon.”

  “When?”

  “Be patient, Dale,” she whispered. “I simply must show Mama that I can be a good girl.”

  “Do good girls go to lectures?” He smiled, and she smiled with him. “Next week?” he asked.

  Patricia thought there was no better way to intrigue him, to force him to prove his stamina and desire, than to have him consume an entire day to gain only a few moments in civil conversation. Of course there was also the fact that under these circumstances she needn’t endure his clumsy caresses.

  Patricia didn’t hear the lecture. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be asked about it. No one asked her questions of an intellectual nature. She thought of the future in the way she had before the ball. It was a good thing that she hadn’t let her head be turned away from Dale, for he was going to be the one. He wanted her. To have her he would have to marry her. In her married state she would be elevated to a position so high above Mrs. Jasper that the overfed, arrogant gorilla and her monkey of a daughter would grovel for a kind word.

  “Did you know he was going to be there?” Lilly asked when they were waiting for the horsecar to go home. Her tone was accusatory and her manner piqued.

  Patricia looked into her younger sister’s eyes. “Did you see me do anything wrong?” she asked in an angry, whispering voice. “Anything? Did I behave badly? Flirt more than you like? Faint, swoon, tromp on his feelings?”

  Lilly was struck silent by the cutting edge in Patricia’s voice.

  “If I did nothing wrong, must we make an issue of it?”

  “Patsy, Mama doesn’t think you should see Dale.”

  “Then if you choose, you may tell her. I’m sure she’ll come up with some horrid punishment so that I’ll never see him again. But why would you betray me when I haven’t done anything bad? Don’t you love me anymore, Lilly? Can’t you let me be happy? Ever?”

  “I don’t want you to be hurt,” Lilly said quietly.

  “No, that’s not it. You and Mama judge me! You don’t understand that I’m not happy doing my chores or reading a book about apes!”

  “No, Patsy, no--”

  “Did you see anything harmful in my conversation with him? Did you see him do anything I should be protected from?” Lilly shook her head, but she didn’t feel right. “Lilly, you and Mama are made happy by the same things; by work and study and strict behavior. If I do anything different, it seems wrong. It is not wrong! Dale is a handsome and rich young man, and it makes me happy that he pays attention to me!”

  “Patsy, Mama wants you to tell the truth. You’re lying again! Keeping these secrets!”

  “He happened past and saw me, and he was delighted to see me again! Lord knows he would be tossed over the porch rail if he came like a gentleman to my home! If you spoil everything by telling, I will never forgive you! Never!”

  Chapter Six

  “If anyone had suggested to me two months ago that I might be courted by the same shaggy cowboy who toted a saddle up my front walk, I would have declared that person mad,” Emily said.

  “Courted?” Noel replied, his mustache tilting.

  Emily laughed, a bright sound full of sparkle. “I hope that’s the worst anyone would say. Are you not at all worried that someone will discover what we’ve done?”

  Noel, who had been reclining on the blanket, sat upright, reached into the picnic basket, and took out an apple. His sleeves were rolled up, the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, and he would have taken off his boots, but he did not dare. Even though Emily could now respond to his kiss, he suspected she might still be outraged by the sight of his naked toes. In due time, he told himself. “Nope,” he answered her.

  “And if someone asks us what went on in Penn Square today, and we say, ‘Why, not a thing of interest,’ when there happened to be an orchestra giving an afternoon concert and the word has gotten back--”

  He laughed at her. He chewed a mouthful of apple and swallowed. “Would you feel better if we drove past the square and asked some of the people there if there was any event worth mentioning?”

  She shook her head. Her lips, bright pink from kissing, curved into a smile. “How did you find this place?”

  “I looked.”

  “For a private place. If I didn’t know better, Noel, I would think you were ashamed to be seen in public with me.”

  He reached toward her, giving an affectionate squeeze to the knee nestled under her long skirt. “But you do know better.”

  She had been skittish at first. Just getting her to consent to a picnic had taken some time. Noel believed she had discussed it with Sophia; the black woman smiled at him in a knowing way, both amused and approving. Emily worried about the boarders, the neighbors, her daughters. “What will they think?” she had asked him. “Why, they might accuse us of keeping company,” he had said with a smile. “How terrible!” They had exclaimed this in unison, finally laughing together.

  Actually, for a woman to keep company with a boarder in her house was not of the worst improprieties. In fact, this happened among working-class people with regularity. It was not unheard of for a boarder to make his intentions toward a landlord’s daughter known. There
were circumstances that made it decent: a number of household residents keeping watch, thin walls between the rooms to discourage any sneaking around, and of course an established reputation. Emily Armstrong’s morals had never been questioned by any member of her church or neighborhood in the nine years she had lived in her house.

  Emily had finally accepted. Perhaps Sophia had convinced her.

  When they finally rode away from the boardinghouse in an open buggy, he told her that he had a place other than a public park in mind. A private place, far off the country road. Appearances, she had said. Reputation, she had whispered. Her eyes were bright and almost alarmed. Also, perhaps, intrigued. “If you’re afraid to be alone with me, Emily, you just have to say so,” he had told her. “I sure don’t want you to have a bad time. But if you reckon you’re safe, I’d far rather be with you than a whole crowd.”

  He had ridden around the countryside with a mission, searching for a nice place where they could be alone, where he could take her into his arms, kiss her and hold her, and no one would see. He’d been giving her hand a secret squeeze, stealing a peck on the cheek, brushing up against her quick and then jumping out of the way before a boarder or daughter caught them. She wanted a private place, too, but couldn’t say so. And she’d nearly twisted her neck into a knot surveying the area he’d finally chosen for their picnic. Now, finally, she was not only calmed down, but happy.

  It was a beautiful place, up on a little hill in tall grasses, open for quite a distance around. There was a shallow brook running below them; had he been alone, he might have dropped a line. The horse that had drawn their buggy grazed nearby. They walked, ate a delicious cold lunch, held hands. And did a great deal of passionate kissing. He finished his apple and tossed the core into the stream. Then he reclined again, putting his head in her lap.

  She touched the red-gold hair by his ear. His scalp was beginning to show through the more sparse hair on top. She touched his mustache. “I’m thinking I might shave it,” he said.