Fortune's Rocks (48 page)
“And did you tell anyone of this sighting?”
“No, I did not. Although I thought there might be a future date when I would feel compelled to speak of this to Phillip Biddeford.”
“And did you see Olympia Biddeford again that summer in unusual or compromising circumstances?”
“Well, yes, Mr. Sears, I did. Once while I was staying at the Highland, I happened to be returning to the hotel after an early-morning walk and I met Olympia Biddeford on the porch.”
“What time was this?”
“It cannot yet have been eight o’clock.”
“How did she appear to you?”
“Well, I must say I was quite shocked by her appearance. She appeared . . . how shall I say . . . disheveled?”
“Did you speak to her?”
“Yes, I did. I attempted to engage her in conversation.”
“And how did she respond to this attempt?”
“I thought her impudent. She refused my invitation to breakfast and rather ran off, I am afraid.”
“Mr. Cote, did you know Catherine Haskell?”
“Yes, I knew her well as a matter of fact. A lovely woman. An excellent wife and mother.”
“Did you and Catherine Haskell ever have occasion to catch Olympia Biddeford in a compromising position with Dr. John Haskell?”
“Yes, I am afraid we did.”
“Can you tell us about that?”
“Well, sir, it is a delicate matter. It was on the occasion of an evening dinner dance at the home of Phillip Biddeford, August tenth,
1899
. While I was with Mrs. Haskell on the porch, she happened to look into a telescope that had been set up there and inadvertently pointed it through a window in the chapel, which was attached to the cottage. And there she saw a most disturbing, not to say shocking, sight.”
1899
. While I was with Mrs. Haskell on the porch, she happened to look into a telescope that had been set up there and inadvertently pointed it through a window in the chapel, which was attached to the cottage. And there she saw a most disturbing, not to say shocking, sight.”
“Did you see this sight as well?”
“Yes, sir, I did. Noticing Mrs. Haskell’s considerable shock, I bent down to have a look myself.”
“And what did you see?”
“I saw Olympia Biddeford and Dr. John Haskell in a state of . . . how shall I put this . . .
in flagrante delicto
?”
in flagrante delicto
?”
“In the
chapel,
Mr. Cote?”
chapel,
Mr. Cote?”
“Yes, sir, in the chapel. And if I may offer a further detail, on the
altar,
sir.”
altar,
sir.”
“The altar, Mr. Cote?”
“Yes, sir.
“And what was Mrs. Haskell’s reaction?”
“She went white in the face.”
• • •
Counsel for the relator wishes to put some questions to Zachariah Cote:
“Mr. Cote, you are a poet, are you not?”
“Yes, Mr. Tucker, I have said that.”
“Of some reputation?”
“Of no small reputation, I am bound to say.”
“And were you possessed of this not entirely modest reputation during the summer of
1899
?”
1899
?”
“I trust I was.”
“Mr. Cote, in June of
1899
, did you submit a half dozen poems to Mr. Phillip Biddeford, editor of
The Bay Quarterly,
in hopes that he would publish them?”
1899
, did you submit a half dozen poems to Mr. Phillip Biddeford, editor of
The Bay Quarterly,
in hopes that he would publish them?”
“I may have. Is this relevant?”
“Judge Littlefield will determine what is relevant, Mr. Cote. Your answer, please?”
“I am not sure.”
“Think, Mr. Cote.”
“As I say, I may have.”
“Would it be correct to say that Mr. Biddeford rejected these poems for publication?”
“If you must put it that way.”
“I am not a poet, Mr. Cote; I prefer to speak the plain truth.”
“I do not recall exactly.”
“Perhaps this will refresh your memory, Mr. Cote. Is this not a copy of a letter Mr. Phillip Biddeford sent to you?”
“I am not sure.”
“Take your time.”
“It appears to be.”
“And what is the date?”
“August fourth,
1899
.”
1899
.”
“Which means you would have received it shortly before the evening of August tenth, the night of the dinner dance at Phillip Biddeford’s house?”
“I may have done.”
“Mr. Cote, would you be kind enough to read the letter aloud?”
“Really, Your Honor. Must I?”
“Mr. Tucker, is this necessary?”
“Your Honor, I wish to show that Mr. Cote may not be an impartial witness in this matter.”
“Very well, then. Proceed.”
“Mr. Cote?”
“Yes?”
“The letter?”
“Yes, very well, Mr. Tucker. I shall read the letter if I must. But I should like to lodge my considerable protest at this invasion of privacy.”
“Mr. Cote, a custody hearing is nothing if not an invasion of everyone’s privacy.”
“‘Dear Mr. Cote. I am returning your several poems to you, since I find I cannot publish them in
The Bay Quarterly
as I had hoped. Though certainly unique in their style and content, they are not suitable for this publication. In future, you may want to consider a modest reining in of your descriptive powers, the result of which might be, I believe, less sentiment in your verse. Yours sincerely, Phillip Biddeford.’”
The Bay Quarterly
as I had hoped. Though certainly unique in their style and content, they are not suitable for this publication. In future, you may want to consider a modest reining in of your descriptive powers, the result of which might be, I believe, less sentiment in your verse. Yours sincerely, Phillip Biddeford.’”
“Mr. Cote, did this letter make you angry?”
“It was disappointing, surely. And wrongheaded in its judgment, I might add.”
“But you went to Biddeford’s gala on August the tenth nevertheless.”
“Yes, I did. I had written that I would go, and I am a man of my word.”
“I am sure that you are. Mr. Cote, to your knowledge, was Olympia Biddeford ever wanton in public?”
“How do you mean?”
“Were she and Dr. Haskell ever demonstrative in public?”
“No, not unless you count that time in the chapel.”
“Was the chapel at all visible from any of the public rooms of the dinner dance?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else besides you and Mrs. Haskell see Olympia Biddeford and Dr. John Haskell together that night?”
“I do not know.”
“Mr. Cote, is it not a fact that Catherine Haskell did not just happen to look into the telescope the night of the dinner dance, but rather was invited to do so by you?”
“Certainly not, sir.”
“You who had been watching the couple all night and knew they had gone into the chapel?”
“No, Mr. Tucker.”
“And had, in fact, adjusted the telescope so that it was pointed directly into a window of the chapel?”
“No, Mr. Tucker, most certainly not! And I resent your scurrilous suggestion!”
“Your Honor, I have no further questions for this witness.”
“Very well, Mr. Cote, you may step down.”
“But, Your Honor, I should like to respond to the completely unfounded insinuation of Mr. Tucker.”
“I am sure you would. You may step down now.”
“Very well, but I do not like what has been said here.”
“No, I am sure you do not. Since it is so late in the afternoon, we will recess for the day and, if this dreadful weather permits, go to our homes. Mr. Sears, you have other witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor, tomorrow I shall have Mrs. Bolduc to the stand.”
“Very good. Now let us retire to our dinners.”
S
HE FIGHTS
her way through the slush, the skirt of her suit saturated with dirty snow, as she walks from the hotel to the courtroom, a distance of only three blocks. The sun is up, high and strong, and she can smell spring in the air — spring, which is only twenty-two days away now. Perhaps she will survive the winter after all. She has a sudden and intense desire to return to the cottage at Fortune’s Rocks, for by today, the snow will be melting on the front lawn, and quite possibly there will be some green beneath, new growth.
HE FIGHTS
her way through the slush, the skirt of her suit saturated with dirty snow, as she walks from the hotel to the courtroom, a distance of only three blocks. The sun is up, high and strong, and she can smell spring in the air — spring, which is only twenty-two days away now. Perhaps she will survive the winter after all. She has a sudden and intense desire to return to the cottage at Fortune’s Rocks, for by today, the snow will be melting on the front lawn, and quite possibly there will be some green beneath, new growth.
Olympia and her father dined at the Ely Falls Hotel last night and again this morning, the dining room shabby but their affection for each other not; and it was a joy to both of them to once again speak of the world outside Fortune’s Rocks. He said that he was most eager to know what she thought of Roosevelt and the controversy in the Philippines, and she teased him about finally installing a telephone. He confessed he had purchased a phonograph machine as well, and he rather thought that it was a French recording of the cellist Pablo Casals that had finally made Mother nearly well.
“Father, you should return home,” Olympia said when they were sitting in the library of the hotel after breakfast with their coffee. “I appreciate your having come, more than I can say, but Mother needs you more.”
“But do you not want support at the trial?”
“I shall manage with Payson Tucker. He is good support. And thank you for taking care of his fees. I promise I shall come to visit as soon as this is over.”
And I shall bring the boy,
she thought privately.
she thought privately.
“Very well,” her father said, “but only on the condition that you allow me to send Charles Knowlton over to the cottage to see what it requires by way of further repairs. If you are going to continue to live there, Olympia, certain aspects of the house must be altered. I do not know how you have survived the winter.”
“Actually, I have moved into the kitchen,” Olympia said, and her father laughed at this idea. And Olympia thought that if such a thing were possible, her father had grown younger in the twenty-four hours he had been in Ely Falls. Indeed, he seemed almost to be in high spirits when he left her for the train.
But the infection of high spirits begins to dissipate as Olympia nears the courthouse, for she has an increasing dread of reentering the hearing chamber. It is a dark, claustrophobic room, too small for such grand passions, for such need, for such antipathy. And she has as well a sour taste in her mouth from having had to reveal thoughts and feelings that one should never have to speak of in public. As strongly as she wants to win her suit, she is not without sympathy for Albertine Bolduc, who will have to take the stand today and will have to answer many of the same questions Olympia did yesterday.
But dread is quickly replaced with bewilderment as Olympia rounds the corner to the entrance to the courthouse. For arrayed all along the stone steps are many persons, some with hastily hand-lettered signs.
LA SURVIVANCE
!
she sees scrawled on a board.
JE ME SOUVIENS
!
she sees scrawled on another. A man, hanging over the stone balustrade, catches sight of her as she stands frozen at the corner.
“Ici la jeune fille!”
he yells to the crowd. Frightened, Olympia watches as the throng moves quickly toward her, carrying their placards with them. Before she can think what to do, she is surrounded by men who are shouting rude questions and remarks at her:
“Ou est le docteur?”
“Miss Biddeford, why are you suing for custody?”
“Ou est la justice?”
A sign is thrust in front of her face, and she puts her hands up to ward it off. She feels then a strong tug on her arm, which she resists frantically until she hears the familiar voice of Payson Tucker and looks up to see his spindly figure towering above the others.
LA SURVIVANCE
!
she sees scrawled on a board.
JE ME SOUVIENS
!
she sees scrawled on another. A man, hanging over the stone balustrade, catches sight of her as she stands frozen at the corner.
“Ici la jeune fille!”
he yells to the crowd. Frightened, Olympia watches as the throng moves quickly toward her, carrying their placards with them. Before she can think what to do, she is surrounded by men who are shouting rude questions and remarks at her:
“Ou est le docteur?”
“Miss Biddeford, why are you suing for custody?”
“Ou est la justice?”
A sign is thrust in front of her face, and she puts her hands up to ward it off. She feels then a strong tug on her arm, which she resists frantically until she hears the familiar voice of Payson Tucker and looks up to see his spindly figure towering above the others.
“Leave her alone,” he commands in a surprisingly deep voice. “Let us pass.”
He takes hold of Olympia’s arm and walks her through the crowd, which parts under his direction. He runs her up the steps and through the courthouse doors, which are opened for them only. He ushers her quickly into an anteroom.
“Are you hurt?” he asks at once.
“No,” she says, though she is badly shaken. “I do not think so. But I do not understand.”
“It is a disaster,” Tucker says, looking for an electric light switch and, failing to find one, drawing back the dusty drapes at the window. “A disaster.” He opens his briefcase. “Have you seen the newspapers?”
“No,” she says, but already she feels a foreboding.
“Take a look at these.”
There are two newspapers, the
Ely Falls Sentinel,
with which she is familiar, and
L’Avenir,
a French-language paper she has occasionally seen on newsstands but has never picked up.
BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF BOSTON BRAHMIN SEEKS CUSTODY OF FRANCO CHILD
, reads the headline of the English paper.
FORTUNE’S ROCKS SCANDAL,
shouts the Franco paper, Olympia translating, with a subheading:
THE BREAK-UP OF A FRANCO FAMILY.
The editors of both newspapers have commissioned drawings of Olympia. The portrait in the
Ely Falls Sentinel
is in an oval, much like a cameo, and it shows the young but serious face of a pretty woman who resembles more than anything else a Gibson girl. The drawing that accompanies the story in
L’Avenir,
however, shows a woman in a low-necked dress that reveals a great deal of bosom. The woman’s lips are parted, and hair wisps float around her face. Neither picture looks much like Olympia.
Ely Falls Sentinel,
with which she is familiar, and
L’Avenir,
a French-language paper she has occasionally seen on newsstands but has never picked up.
BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF BOSTON BRAHMIN SEEKS CUSTODY OF FRANCO CHILD
, reads the headline of the English paper.
FORTUNE’S ROCKS SCANDAL,
shouts the Franco paper, Olympia translating, with a subheading:
THE BREAK-UP OF A FRANCO FAMILY.
The editors of both newspapers have commissioned drawings of Olympia. The portrait in the
Ely Falls Sentinel
is in an oval, much like a cameo, and it shows the young but serious face of a pretty woman who resembles more than anything else a Gibson girl. The drawing that accompanies the story in
L’Avenir,
however, shows a woman in a low-necked dress that reveals a great deal of bosom. The woman’s lips are parted, and hair wisps float around her face. Neither picture looks much like Olympia.
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