The Americans (53 page)

What Mrs. Fennel termed "a simple midday meal" consisted of six courses including poached salmon, rack of lamb, and filets de boeuf aux truffes et champignons - "Mr. McAllister's recipe." There were numerous side dishes as well, the whole served by half a dozen footmen in Fennel livery. The dining room was another of those caverns whose size and opulence elevated an ordinary human function to something of a rite. Its ceiling, too, was two stories high, decorated with murals of dawn and dusk. From the ceiling hung a pair of mammoth crystal chandeliers equipped for gas and also wired for the less dependable electricity. Columns of red Numidian marble with gilt capitals were ranged all around the walls. An intricately carved fireplace trimmed in silver leaf dominated one end of the room. At the other was a large window overlooking the Atlantic. Storm clouds were darkening the horizon out there, Will noticed. He was hot and a little dizzy from all the red and white wines served with the various courses. Still the dutiful guest, he'd taken a glass of each. The dining table was a square of carved mahogany with inlays of satinwood. There were five chairs with red damask upholstery at each side. The table could be expanded to seat forty, Mrs. Fennel had informed him. But even in its normal configuration, it dwarfed the four diners. Marcus was opposite his mother, Will across from Laura. She had changed to a fluffy summer organdy and tied her hair with a lavender ribbon. Despite her odd pallor, she looked beautiful. But he began to notice that she occasionally darted worried or questioning glances at her mother. She was clearly under some strain. Could it have anything to do with that shacker's remark about-his No. He wouldn't even entertain such a thought During the meal conversation ranged over a variety of innocuous topics. Mrs. Fennel asked about Will's studies, but her attention to his answers struck him as perfunctory at best. She preferred speaking to listening. Will concluded that she was chiefly interested in herself and the impression she made as mistress of Maison du Soleil. For that reason, anything pertaining to Society claimed her full attention. -This was brought home while the dessert ices were being served. Laura abruptly clapped her hands and said: "Will-did Marcus remember to tell you about Mrs. As- tor's ball?" "That I might get an invitation? Yes, indeed." Mrs. Fennel beamed. "That's wonderful news, don't you thinkf He did his best to show enthusiasm: "Wonderful." Mrs. Fennel leaned forward, her eyes bright. "Perhaps Mrs. Astor will even invite the two of you to her divan for a chat. Every year she favors a few of her ball guests that way. Should you and Laura be chosen for that honor, your position would be secure for life." How seriously she made the statement. As if such a thing truly mattered- Then he wondered what was wrong with his own attitude. Here he was, on the threshold of gaining everything he wanted in the way of prestige and position, and he found himself being cynical about the whole business. A cigar in his mouth, Marcus leaned back in his chair i- and waited for one of the footmen to rush forward with a match. When he had the cigar going, he blew out a puff of I smoke and asked in a slurred voice: "What are you children planning to do the rest of the bar day?" Mrs. Fennel coughed and waved her hand in front of her face. "The afternoon is occupied, Marcus. You know that." He grimaced. "I thought that in view of Will's arrival, we could skip the dreary business of exchanging visiting cards." To W* "You drive up and down the Avenue. The footmen carry the cards inside. No one else ever leaves the carriage. Believe me, it's two hours of absolute torture." "Nevertheless," said Mrs. Fennel, "it is one of the New- ch"port proprieties, and we observe it." Will didn't intend to argue. But Marcus had put away a large amount of wine, and he didn't hesitate: "Good God, Mama-I'm sure Will would rather take Laura driving. He's a first-class whip, you know." Uninterested in the accomplishments of her guest, Mrs. Fennel gave her son a withering look. Will tried to keep the conversation going on a note of modesty: "Well, I do enjoy coaching-was "Have you always liked horses?" Laura asked. "Yes, as long as I can remember. I got some fine experience with wild mustangs when I was out west on Mr. Roosevelt's ranch." Mrs. Fennel reacted as if he'd uttered a filthy word. "I believe you mentioned something about that once before. You're speaking of Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, are you not?" "That's correct." "He's become quite a champion of the unwashed. Most of us who summer here consider him a traitor to his class. There is no more serious crime." She pressed heavily beringed hands on the polished wood. "Are you still friendly with Roosevelt?" At first he evaded: "I haven't seen him in a year or so. He's in Washington, you know." Out on the Atlantic, thunder boomed in the depths of massing clouds. Will was disgusted with himself. Politeness was one thing, cowardice quite another. His love for Laura was threatening to turn him into a gutless sycophant. Mrs. Fennel responded to his last statement with a chilling smile: "No, I don't know. I never keep track of people who prove themselves unworthy of the trust of their peers." It was said quietly, but it was scathing. She'd gone too far. "I happen to admire Mr. Roosevelt, Mrs. Fennel." Marcus again leaned back in his chair, enjoying the confrontation. Laura looked upset. Her mother's smile never wavered. But her hostility was evident. Will was sure she'd never forgive his remark. Somehow, he didn't care. He disliked the small, stiff- necked woman even more than he disliked her house. With amazement, he recalled how shy she'd seemed the first time they met. But Laura had warned him that her manner was deceptive, and he'd seen evidence the night she humiliated her husband because he'd told a dirty story. She continued to stare. Now Mrs. Fennel stared at Will as if she expected him to cave in too. He didn't, which made her seethe. "Young man, I've always believed one should be charitable, and overlook a few faults in others. Provided those faults are not too obnoxious." Her eyes flashed. "I regret to say I find your defense of Roosevelt very obnoxious indeed." "Mama, that's rude!" Laura burst out. "Is it? I'm so sorry." But she wasn't. The dining room had grown dark. Storm clouds were racing in from the Atlantic. Outside, shrubs and trees began to bend, lashed by wind out of the northeast. Mrs. Fennel continued: "I was only trying to be candid. If Will wishes an opportunity to become a part of this family, he should know what the family expects of him." Abruptly, she fixed her gaze on him. "Unacceptable opinions or behavior will not be tolerated." Thunder boomed. The large window whined under the buffeting of the wind. Caps of white water had appeared on the ocean. Having spoken her mind, Mrs. Fennel now changed the subject: "It will rain soon. I fear the afternoon drive is ruined." There was venom in Laura's eyes as she said, "Along with other things!" She jumped up, overturning her chair. It fell with a crash before a servant could catch it. She ran from the room. "Come back here!" Mrs. Fennel called. The hollow sound of footsteps on marble was all the answer she received. Marcus scowled at the ash of his cigar. Will sat motionless. There were strange emotional currents swirling around him. Something was very wrong in the Fennel house. T CHAPTER VI Whispers THE RAIN CAME POURING down then. For the next two hours Marcus and Will shot billiards. Even a room devoted solely to amusement had been planned and furnished with spendthrift magnificence. The billiard room had walls of gray-green Cippolino marble. Six-foot bronze candelabra stood in the four corners. The table was a Baumgarten, of Central American mahogany. Marcus" only reference to the tempers on display in the dining room was a nonchalant one: "You'll have to excuse Mother and Laura. Both of them have been extremely upset lately." "Is it impolite to ask why?" "Not at all. But I don't think I should answer. It's a family matter. I believe it's your shot, old boy." Presently a servant brought word that both Mrs. Pennel and Laura were still indisposed. Will received the news in disappointed silence. Marcus excused himself, pleading another engagement. Will roamed the first floor, hoping Laura would suddenly appear on the staircase. The rain continued to fall. Night came on and the gas fixtures were lit. Still no sign of her. Will wandered to the gloomy, dark-paneled library. Servants looked in from time to time to see to his needs, but he wanted nothing to eat or drink. By eight-thirty it was already pitch dark because of the storm. He gave up and went to his room. Passing a closed door, he heard female voices raised. Though he knew he shouldn't, he stopped to listen. "comc handle the matter. But not if you're rude to him!" That was Laura. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper. You know how I feel about turncoats like Roosevelt." Laura's mother. Her next words were muffled. Then Will heard, "comhas let me down. So many problems at the same time-was "Well, you mustn't allow nerves to ruin the solution we devised for mine. This is one case in which you can't simply dictate the outcome," Mama. It must be carefully-was A thunderclap shook the cottage. Beyond a massive marble railing to Will's left, a grotesque shadow grew on the wall of the landing below. A servant must be coming upstairs. He hurried on to his room, puzzling about the curious conversation he'd overheard. He had no idea what Laura and Mrs. Fennel were talking about, although an urgent', almost conspiratorial note had come through quite clearly. Mother and daughter had obviously patched up their quarrel. He supposed that was good. But the whole business bothered him, for reasons he couldn't adequately explain.

The morning dawned rainless but gray. Heavy air carried the promise of new storms. Will was cheered when Laura came down to breakfast in the morning room. Despite lingering signs of fatigue, she seemed in much better spirits. They agreed to go driving in an hour. She whispered to one of the servants and sent him out of the room. When Will asked what she was up to, she hugged him and said it was a surprise. When they'd finished eating, she asked him to come with her to the loggia. Once outside, they walked on across the damp lawn to the bluff overlooking the serpentine Cliff Walk. Only then did she tell him what was on her mind: "I'm dreadfully sorry yesterday was such a botch." "And I'm sorry I made your mother so angry." . "She isn't any longer. I finally saw her before breakfast." Before breakfast? You saw her last night. But all he said was, "You're sure?" "Positive." "That's good news." "The problem isn't you, it's Papa. For the past few months he's been-call it inattentive." He thought a moment. "I noticed he wasn't around much this spring." "It's gotten worse. He invents excuses for spending all his time in the city. Most Newport men are absentee husbands. They've grown indifferent to their wives. But in Papa's case, there's talk-was She glanced toward the mansion, as if she feared eavesdroppers. Remembering Town Topics, Will understood why she'd brought him outside. She went on: "Talk that he consorts with other women. I mean women of the very lowest kind. I wouldn't be surprised. Things have become so strained, he seizes every opportunity to spite Mother. I shouldn't tell you this, I suppose. But we're friends, and you are training to be a doctor. I presume you're familiar with the-the symptoms women experience in mid-life?" "Yes, of course." "Mama experienced them in a very acute way. And although she's too decent to discuss the particulars, I gather the change only aggravated her lifelong dislike of-the physical side of marriage. That's why Papa's never here- and why I believe the rumors we've heard." "That's certainly unfortunate." But eminently understandable. An image of Mrs. Pennel's autocratic face had flickered in Will's mind. "I saw that your father was gone a lot. But I'm embarrassed to say I wasn't aware of other changes in his relationship with the family." "Don't be embarrassed. It all happened very gradually." "Marcus did hint at some difficulties, after you left the dining room yesterday-was "Our friends in the city are starting to do more than hint. They tell us Papa's drinking a lot-for him, even a little is too much. One or two champagne cocktails and all control disappears. He hardly knows what he's saying-was Will remembered. "I'm very sorry to hear all this, Laura. It makes me doubly unhappy that I upset your mother yesterday. I hope the problems between your parents won't lead to-was How to phrase it politely? "Something more serious." "You mean divorce? Absolutely not. I expect Mama would like to be free of Papa, but the price is too high. In our set, both parties to a divorce are ostracized. Mama is under great strain, though. For the first time in memory, Papa's defied her openly. She has difficulty accepting that. And of course she dreads a scandal." But had Laura been referring to Thurman Fennel when she spoke of "her" problem behind a closed door last night? He probed for an answer: "Is that why you're looking so exhausted?" He touched her chin gently. "It's the doctor's considered opinion that someone as fine and beautiful as you shouldn't be worrying every waking moment." She tried to lighten her tone: "Perhaps if I had a husband to share the burdens, I wouldn't." A nod of exaggerated gravity. "Professionally, I agree." A whisper: "And personally?" "Yes, there too. Are you searching for a husband, may I ask?" " She linked her arm in his. "Yes, doctor, I am. Quite diligently, in fact." "And has your search been rewarded?" "No." A slow, almost smoldering nicker of her eyes. "But I'm hopeful it may be soon." He faced her. The wind blew her straw-colored hair- against his cheek. It had the feel of a disembodied hand caressing him. Nervousness made him hoarse: "Teasing aside, you know how I feel about you. The search can end any time you say." "How sweet you are. How very sweet-was With another swift look toward the house, she raised herself on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his face, the swell of her soft breasts pushing against his jacket. He reached for her. She eluded him; started toward the loggia: "But you mustn't press me, W. I haven't made up my mind. Not yet. I like you very much. But the trouble between Mother and Papa reminds me how cautious we must . be. Marriage is such an important step-was Suddenly she pirouetted to face him, her gray eyes wide with emotion. "It's a lifetime promise. I'm just not completely sure, even though-was Her voice dropped lower, the very sound of the whisper exciting him. "comeven though I want you more than I dare admit. I admire my mother. But I'm not like her in every way. I won't be-cold to my husband." Stunned by her candor* he held out his hand. "Laura-was "We'd better get ready to go driving." She whirled away and hurried toward the house. He followed her, his emotions in turmoil because of what she'd confessed. still won't be cold to my husband. I comwant you more than I dare admit. He was skeptical of her statements about being unsure of her own feelings. Laura's character was complex, but that complexity didn't include being indecisive. She always knew what she wanted; in that way she was exactly like her mother. He felt traitorous for questioning something she'd said, but he couldn't help it. He also couldn't understand why she'd put him off, unless it was a feminine tactic designed to make him want her all the more. If that was her aim, she'd succeeded. The thought of her eyes, her mouth, the light touch of her hand and her body filled him with aching expectation as he raced to catch up with her beneath the ominous sky. in The Fennel carriages were housed in an enormous twenty-stall stable on Coggeshall Avenue, which ran parallel to Bellevue and one block west. In the stable, Will and Laura found the sorrels already hitched to a splendid landau with a two-section folding top that permitted it to be converted to a half-head barouche or a fully open carriage, or to be kept completely closed as it was this morning. Will felt nervous about driving unfamiliar horses, just as he felt self-conscious about his outfit-a duplicate of the one Marcus had worn to meet him. It was the surprise Laura had mentioned. She'd ordered it from a fashionable gentlemen's shop, just for his visit. The four sets of reins were exactly where they were supposed to be-hitched behind the tug strap supporting the trace buckle and pad of the off-side wheel horse. Will took the reins in his left hand and carefully let out the proper amount of slack on the two sets belonging to the offside horses. .he put the reins in his right hand and mounted the wheel to the coachman's seat. Then he transferred the reins back to his driving hand so that they were in the right order: the near-leader's rein between thumb and forefinger; those of the off-leader and near-wheeler between the next two; and the off-wheeler's rein lowest of all, between the middle and third fingers. The feel of the reins had become part of him long ago. Without conscious thought, he could tell whether the four sets were correctly arranged. That was essential. On the road there was no time for conscious selection and manipulation. You had to know where each rein was, how to get hold of it without looking at it, and how to handle it without disturbing the other three. Will knew of several careless beginners who'd been killed because they mistook one rein for another. He grasped the whip in his right hand, then shortened rein until he could feel just a slight tension of the bits against the mouths of the two leaders. Laura sat close to him on the box seat; one of the grooms had helped her climb up on the other side. WilFgrinned at her: "Ready?" She nodded. "Here we go." They set out southward along Coggeshall, turning right where it intersected a muddy, deserted road Laura identified as Ocean Avenue. She clung to his right arm as the landau lurched in and out of several ruts. Ocean Avenue switchbacked along the shore. He had trouble keeping the horses under perfect control on the sharp turns. But Laura complimented and encouraged him, and once he'd discarded his top hat and stopped worrying about mud splashing up from the road, his driving improved. He accustomed himself to the size and weight of the landau and began to feel the mouths of the sorrels a little more positively. The horses were well schooled, responsive animals, and soon he had them clipping along briskly. "Marcus was right, you're a first-class whip," Laura exclaimed as the landau bounced and swayed around a curve. Will was showing off a bit; turning so that the right wheels lifted away from the road for a moment or so. She gasped delightedly as they came down again. To the left, fans of white spray rose above boulders lining the shore. Ocean Avenue was low and close to the water at this point. The waves were noisy; Laura had to shout to be heard: "What does it take to be a good driver?" 'Two of the same qualities it takes to be a good doctor. Patience and practice. Plus the money to maintain a fine outfit like this." "And what else?" "Strong wrists. Strong forearms. Above all, you need what they call good hands. That's a kind of instinctive feel for the reins. Expert drivers develop it, poor ones never do." They were rolling along a straight, fairly smooth stretch of road parallel to the rock-strewn shore. He shook the whip in his right hand. "You also have to be able to touch the whip to any one of those four horses and miss the other three. If you can't do that and do it perfectly every time, you're not a true four-in-hand man." A quarter of a mile further on, the racing horses rounded another bend. Will pulled them frantically to the right to keep from running down two men and a shabbily dressed girl who'd emerged from the damp underbrush on the left side of the road. Laura lost her last trace of color: "It's those creatures from the Casino-was Will recognized the shacker who had accosted Marcus. The shacker recognized him in turn, just as the lead horses flashed by the trio. The slatternly girl's clothing was disarrayed, leaving little doubt as to what she and the boys had been doing this warm, windy morning. Behind him, Will heard the boy shout. He was about to ask Laura about the shacker when something sharp struck the back of his neck with enough force to draw blood. He twisted around, scowling. The shacker flung another rock. This one hit the near wheel horse on the left flank. The impact frightened the animal. It whinnied and lunged forward, throwing the other three off stride. In a moment the smoothly running quartet became four fright- -- ened runaways. Will sawed and hauled on the reins in a desperate effort to stop the landau from overturning in a ninety-degree turn just ahead. Love and Honor "HANG ON!" WILL SHOUTED. Laura ducked her head. He leaned back, tugging frantically. The lead horses plunged into the turn. On the far side of the road, the shoulder dropped steeply to a natural ditch. The lead horses raced straight toward it for a moment more. Finally they responded to the reins and made the turn. So did the wheel horses. But the four runaways exerted a tremendous whiplashing force on the carriage, skidding it sideways toward the ditch. Will feared one or both axles might snap. There was a terrifying instant in which he felt the right wheels slide onto the shoulder and slip downward. If the landau tipped and crashed into the standing water, Laura could be injured or killed- The near wheels rose from, the road. "Will, it's going over!" Without conscious thought, he fed slack into all four sets of reins, keeping only minimal pressure on the bits as he stroked the off-leader with the whip-"Hah!"-then the near-leader- "Hah!" The response was a sudden forward surge of the horses down a short straightaway-enough to arrest the landau's sideways skid and settle its near wheels on the road with a jolt. Will's gut hurt. His mouth felt dry as he pulled on the reins again, tightening up on the bits. Badly frightened, the horses didn't respond. He shortened rein again, trying not to dwell on the fact that by now the bits would be tearing at the mouths of the sorrels. In a moment the horses began to slow down. By the time the landau bumped into the next turn they were down to a walk, snorting and bobbing their heads in response to the pain of the bits. Will hated hurting them; he'd had no choice. He slacked off on the reins and pushed his boot against the brake lever. The landau came to a stop. His shoulders slumped from the sudden release of tension. After two deep breaths, he turned to Laura expecting to see a bleached look of fear. To his astonishment, she was flushed with exhilaration. Her gray eyes fastened on his, communicating a message he could hardly believe. She ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip and brushed at the hair blowing past her cheek. She gripped his forearm with her left hand, kneading his flesh through the green coat. Her voice was husky as she said: -- "That was splendidly done. You were very brave." He shook his head. "No bravery involved. I just drove and hoped we didn't upset. If we had, it could have been serious." "You were brave, W. Don't deny it." Breathing almost as loudly as he was, she leaned toward him, opening her lips. My God, he thought, aroused. The. danger excited her. "So brave," she murmured as her mouth came against "his, all moist and soft. He tasted her tongue; felt her hand glide across his leg. He thought of the shackers and the girl; what had become of them? Was anyone else driving on Ocean Avenue today? This was a public road- Southward above the Atlantic, the sky was solid gray. On a nearby hillside, a collie ran back and forth along the skyline, barking at a farmer carrying a milk can. Laura's breathing was rapid now; as if she were no longer in control of herself. She kissed him more ardently, and moaned. Her hand tightened. The pressure between his legs was almost more than he could bear. One by one he forgot the things that had been worrying him. There was no sign of the two boys from the Casino. The road remained empty. The man with the milk can was gone; the collie silent; the heavens dark as evening. A fissure of white lightning split the sky in the south. Laura's other hand moved in his hair. She teased his tongue with hers; whispered: "Let's go down to the shore. Please, W." "What if someone comes along and finds the carriage?" "They won't find us. Tie the horses! I can't help myself. I can't wait any longer. I've waited and wanted you too long as it is-was "All