Midnight Rose (2 page)

Keith was waiting in the parlor, enjoying a brandy. He leaped to his feet as Ryan walked in. “I really appreciate this. Frankly, I got worried when Ebner told me you’d been in bed all day and thought maybe you wouldn’t feel up to going.”

“I don’t,” Ryan was quick to confirm, eagerly taking the glass of brandy he was offered. “I just hope you can actually find a suitable wife among those silly, giggling debutantes.”

“Sometimes a man gets lucky. I met Lareina at the Rose Ball, remember?”

Ryan was politely contrite. “Of course I do, and she was one of the few treasures to be found. Believe me, I’m hoping you’ll be lucky twice.”

“Well, again, I appreciate your going to give me moral support. Granted, I could start searching for a wife without going to a presentation ball, but the fact is, I’m kind of looking forward to it just because it’s the first time I’ve done anything social since Lareina died.”

“Life goes on, Keith,” Ryan said dryly, meaning the words for himself as well.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Keith pointed out, “Well, you can just relax and enjoy yourself, drink champagne and feel sorry for the rest of us nervous blokes. You’ve found
your
bride.”

“My mother found her. I wasn’t looking.”

Keith nodded, wondered again what it was that had happened in France to make Ryan change so. Once, he’d been cheerful, outgoing, but now he seemed bitter, almost cynical. “Well, Ermine might not be your choice, but what difference does it make? You’ve never been satisfied with one woman anyway. You’ll have your mistresses. The one I caught a glimpse of being spirited away in your carriage was quite a charmer, from what I could see,” he said with a grin. “But you’d better learn to be more discreet. You can’t be bringing them home with you, you know.”

“That was a special occasion—not a special woman.” He downed the rest of his brandy, then, attempting to be genial, said, “If you don’t stop wasting time worrying about my love life,
you’re going to miss out on pursuing your own. Shall we go?”

Keith nodded vigorously, again expressing gratitude for Ryan’s company. “It’s just a shame for you to have to waste your time. Maybe they should have presentation balls for potential mistresses.”

Ryan pretended to take him seriously. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Do you think we could arrange one?”

They looked at each other and burst into laughter, then headed for Keith’s waiting carriage.

Erin sat patiently as Letty styled her hair. Noting Letty’s pensive expression in the mirror, she once more wondered what had happened to change her so. They had played together as children, till Erin’s stepfather happened to notice and said it wasn’t proper for her, a white child, to play with Negroes. But the two had still managed to find time to enjoy each other, giggling and sharing secrets. Then Erin had gone to Atlanta, and when she had returned nearly five years later, nothing was the same. Letty was like a stranger, quiet, withdrawn. It was as though they had never shared all those wonderful times together.

Attempting to ease the tension, Erin complimented her. “Mother was right. You really do have a knack for doing hair, Letty. It looks nice.” Wanting to remind her of their past friendship, she continued with a soft laugh, “Now who would’ve thought, back when we were playing such rough and rowdy games, you’d grow up to have such a genteel talent?”

Letty’s round, anxious eyes met hers in the huge oval mirror above the dressing table. She didn’t want to think about the past. “You’ve got to be the most gorgeous lady at that ball. That’s your mama’s orders.”

Erin made a face. “As if I care. I don’t even want to go.”

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” Letty dared to say. “Your mama got the finest dressmaker in all of Richmond to make that gorgeous gown especially for you. Why, those are real black pearls sewn into the netting, and no telling what that cost. I’ve never seen a dress so fine, and none of the other house workers has either. Everybody’s eyes are gonna pop out when you walk in.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that,” Erin said bitterly. “But not over my dress. They’ll be staring out of shock that I dared go where I wasn’t invited. This whole thing is ridiculous, and if I had anywhere to run to, I would.”

“That’s just no way for you to feel, Miss Erin. You might meet your husband tonight, and—”

“Don’t call me
Miss
Erin!” she cried, unable to keep still any longer, and implored, “Oh, Letty, what is wrong with you? You’re not the same. We’ve known each other almost all our lives, but since I’ve come home, you’re different. And you know you don’t have to be formal with me.”

“Folks change,” Letty murmured, trying to concentrate on what she was doing, despite the way her hands were starting to shake. She wished Erin had stayed in Atlanta but didn’t dare say so. Instead, she pointed out, “Besides, if the mastah hears me call you anything but Miss Erin, he’ll have me whipped.”

“Not with me around, he won’t! And I’d better not hear of any whippings going on, anyway. Dear God, I hate slavery. It’s wrong, and—”

“And nothing for you to concern yourself with, my dear.” Arlene Tremayne breezed into the dressing alcove. Slender, not as tall as her daughter, she was stunning in a gown of champagne silk. Letty was just interlacing the delicate white and smoked pearl band among the tight ringlets at her crown. “Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!” she praised as she set down the bowl she was carrying. “You’re a jewel, Letty. You have such a talent. I don’t know how we’d manage without you, but you can run along now. I’ll finish adjusting this. Erin and I need some time for a mother-daughter chat, you know.” She dismissed the woman with a patronizing smile.

Letty nodded and quickly backed out, obediently bowing and curtsying as Master Zachary required all his slaves to do.

The moment they were alone, Arlene sternly admonished, “You should never say such things in front of the servants. What if your stepfather heard you?” She shuddered, envisioning his reaction. “Ladies of good breeding never discuss such things anyway, to anyone. Remember that.”

“You don’t like slavery any more than I do,” Erin tartly reminded her. “You won’t even refer to them as slaves. Like now, you said servants. Slavery is just as detestable to you as it is to me, but you won’t dare admit it.”

Uneasily, Arlene countered, “Well, some things you have to accept whether you like them or not. Now here—” She abruptly changed the subject, gesturing to the bowl she’d brought. “This is fresh. I made it this afternoon.”

Erin knew what it was. For as long as she could remember, her mother had insisted she scrub her skin vigorously with a solution concocted of lemon juice, unripe grapes, parsley, and horseradish water. For nice skin, she said, smooth and soft.

Arlene continued, “When you’ve finished, I’ll help you with your gown. It
is
lovely, isn’t it?” She turned to look beyond the alcove to where the shaded rose gown was spread across her canopied bed. “Now what did we decide to do about your corset? Madame Cherise says most women aren’t wearing them anymore, but I feel naked without mine. I forgot to ask her what you should wear, and—”

“Mother, don’t worry about it,” Erin interrupted, then rushed to beg desperately once more, “Can’t we just forget this madness? I wasn’t invited to the ball, and we both know why. Zachary has never been accepted by the social elite of Richmond, and neither have we. It doesn’t matter how much money he’s got. Everyone knows how he got it—by cheating and swindling people.”

“Erin, no!” Arlene said, quickly sinking into a nearby chair because her trembling legs would no longer support her. She drew closer, leaned to whisper, even though they were alone in the alcove. “You
mustn’t talk like that. Ever. He might hear you, and it wouldn’t do. He’d be so hurt to hear you say such things. I know he’s not a perfect man, far from it, but he is my husband, and he’s your stepfather, and you should try to get along with him, show some respect.”

Erin’s heart went out to her, but still she couldn’t hold back her loathing. “I can’t stand him. I wish I could have stayed in Atlanta, because I can’t hide the way I feel about him, and I’m sorry, for your sake.”

Arlene’s lower lip trembled as she fought to hold back the tears. In only a little while, both she and Erin were expected by Zachary in his study, to have a glass of sherry before they left for the ball. He wasn’t going, thank goodness, said he had to go away for a few days on business, but had expressed a desire to see them in their new finery. She didn’t want him to think she’d been crying.

Reaching to give Erin a gentle shake, she tremulously begged, “I want you to try and get along with him, please, for me. It was time for you to come home, because this is your home, and it’s also time for you to take a husband, get married. You couldn’t go on living with your father’s sister forever, and I didn’t want you to meet someone and marry and settle down there, so far away.”

She paused on a melancholy sigh. “I never understood why you were so hysterical to leave here anyway. I knew you and Zachary just couldn’t seem to get along, but I never dreamed it was so bad you’d want to go away.”

Erin wasn’t about to tell her just how bad it had been, knew it would crush her to learn what that fiend had tried to do to her when she was twelve years old. Instead, she pointed out, “I can’t stand the way he treats the servants, and he’s always ranting and raving about something.” She shook her head in dismay, wished things were different, but knew they never would be.

Arlene ignored that. “You have to remember, if it hadn’t been for Zachary asking me to marry him right after your father died, we’d be as poor as your Aunt Sarah and her family. No man from a wealthy and prominent family would have ever courted me, because I didn’t come from a similar background.”

Erin gave an unladylike snort. “So you married a man of disrepute, because he had money.”

“Erin, please…” Arlene choked back a sob, the tears she was fighting beginning to sting her eyes. “I had no choice. I had you to think about, and I didn’t want you to grow up in a life of poverty like I did. I was pretty then, too, and that’s why Zachary wanted me, and I held out for marriage, and now look what I have…” She waved her arms in a gesture to the opulent surroundings. “He isn’t all bad, Erin,” she rushed on. “He just gets mean when he’s drinking.”

“Which seems to be all the time.”

Arlene ignored that painful reality and continued her plea. “All I’m asking is that you try to get along with him. Maybe tonight
we’ll find someone suitable for you, so you can hurry and get married and move out of the house.

“But I don’t want just anybody for you. And tonight you’ll be exposed to the cream of Virginia’s most eligible bachelors. I want you to stop worrying that we weren’t invited. We’ll just behave as though we were, because we should have been, and no one will say anything, because no one will dare make a scene. Now then…” She got to her feet and forced a smile she didn’t truly feel. “After you’ve had your bath, Letty will help you with your gown, and then I’ll meet you in the parlor.”

Alone in the alcove, Erin looked at her reflection and wasn’t surprised to see the resentment and rebellion mirrored there. She didn’t want to be put on display like a slave at auction and had no intention of marrying only for monetary and social reasons. She’d gone to school in Atlanta and studied hard; she considered herself to have above average intelligence for a woman. Accordingly, she dared hope there might be more for her in life than being subservient to a man she didn’t love, giving birth to a baby every year, and filling her boring hours with tatting and sewing. Why couldn’t she find a job and support herself? Surely there was something she could do. Why did she have to adhere to unwritten laws that said she had to have a husband to take care of her, as if she were some kind of dependent simpleton? She wasn’t worried about finding one if she wanted one; she was not at all conceited about her looks. And men seemed to find her height of nearly five feet nine an interesting contrast to dainty, fluffy girls of diminutive size. Well, she might have to go to the ball, but she’d do absolutely nothing to entice or encourage any man.

With that firm resolution, Erin had her bath, finishing, as always, by vigorously scrubbing with the strange solution. Letty helped her into the gown, marveling at her tiny waist, envying once more her generous bosom.

“You don’t need no stays, and you don’t need them new-type corsets with the cup-shaped bust sections, either. I’d say you’ve got a figure any woman would die for, and a body any man would kill for,”
she added with a rare devilish grin.

It was like the old Letty, Erin thought, relieved things were starting to seem a bit more normal between them.

She turned in front of the mirror. The bodice of the dress was crusted with tiny, precious pearls in white and smoke shades. From the narrow waist, the cascade of shaded colors began, from palest pink to deepest rose, with an overlay of pearl-studded chiffon. The sleeves were poufed, also interspersed with precious nacres.

For any other occasion, Erin knew she’d be thrilled over such elegance. The concept behind the Rose Ball, however, she found degrading to women. “You know something, Letty?” she couldn’t resist proclaiming. “In a way, the only difference between tonight’s ball and a slave auction is hypocrisy.”

At that, Letty scurried from the room, not about to indulge in such a delicate topic of conversation.

When Erin entered the parlor, her mother cried, “Dear God in heaven, child, you’re beautiful!” Quickly she set aside her sherry and crossed the room to embrace her gently and exclaim with shining eyes, “I’m so very proud to be your mother.”