The Lord Won't Mind (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (19 page)

Peter found C. B. a great comfort. She was the link with the magical summer days of discovery, an assurance that the bonds they had forged then were indestructable. She enjoyed talking about Charlie as much as he did. They indulged themselves freely.

“Is he still seeing a great deal of Hattie?” she asked one day when he had dropped by in time to have tea with her.

“Yes,” Peter admitted without enthusiasm. “Practically every day.”

“I wonder if he might be getting serious about her.”

“Oh, no.” He brightened at being able to make the denial. “Nothing like that. They’re just pals. He takes her around to all her theatrical hangouts. They’re rehearsing a scene together.” Realizing that this might give her ideas, he added, “You know, he’s helping her prepare it. She wants to have something to do at auditions.”

“I see. You know, of course, that it was one of the greatest frights of my life when I discovered a few years ago what an extraordinary actor he is. It seemed inevitable that he would want to go on with it.”

“I wish I’d seen him. He really is all that good?”

“Extraordinary, Such magnetism and authority. I hadn’t the slightest doubt he would be a great success. That’s what was so frightening.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you so opposed? It wouldn’t be like starving in a garret.”

“Oh, my darling. The life. So sordid. All very well for poor little Sapphire. I’m delighted she got a job in her show. But Charlie has so many gifts. I’ve always wanted him to use them all to make a really worthwhile life for himself.”

“But I should think the only way to use a talent like you say he has for acting is to be an actor.”

China clashed against silver as she set down her cup. This was dangerous ground he had dared tread once before and again he felt the ice of her disapproval. “Is that the sort of advice you give him?” she asked, with a tolerant smile.

“Oh, C. B.,” he protested with flustered laughter. “You know he doesn’t need any advice from me. You know Charlie. He just sails along and everything falls into his lap.”

“Are you suggesting that he still entertains some thoughts about the stage?”

“Of course not. I mean, you’d know as much about that as I would. He always talks to you about everything.”

“That’s the way it has always been. We’ve always talked to each other, even when he was tiny.”

Peter’s laughter was genuine now. “I can’t imagine him being tiny. But that’s just it. He’d never do anything without talking to you first. You’re the only person who has any real influence on him.”

“I hope you’re right, my darling.”

He detected lurking doubts. Thinking of Charlie, wanting to prepare the ground for him in some small way, he dared add, “You know I am. It’s just that if he ever did have a chance to do something in the theater, I hope you wouldn’t think it’s too awful.”

“I think I’m a better judge of that than you. I know the world.” She pushed the tea table from her. “You’ve depressed me, my darling. I had thought that that danger had been disposed of once and for all. You’ve given me a great deal to think about. I’m glad, at least, that you think we have nothing to fear from Hattie.”

“Absolutely not. He was maybe sort of fascinated by her at first, but now they’re just friends.”

“I’m glad. I don’t find her really suitable. You know, I’d like to feel I could count on you to warn me if this theater thing should ever crop up again. Perhaps I shouldn’t. Male solidarity. You’re a faithful creature. In your eyes, I dare say, Charlie could never do any wrong.”

“That’s the way you feel about him too, isn’t it?”

“He has needed guidance, as the young always do. Perhaps he still does. We shall see.”

He was obliged to leave before he had quite succeeded in reestablishing the loving flow of understanding between them that was the basis of his devotion to her. He knew he had blundered badly. Next time, he must avoid anything controversial, follow her lead, say only the things she wanted him to say. He didn’t report the conversation to Charlie.

SOON after, a day came when C. B. called Charlie at his office. This was not in itself unusual, but her tone was—as was the urgency with which she asked him to stop by on his way home from work. He went, curious and uneasy, but with no real presentiment of catastrophe. When she rose to receive him in her living room, all his guards were immediately alerted. Her kiss was ominously restrained. She flicked a scrap of handkerchief at a chair.

“I don’t think this is an occasion for offering you a drink.” She sat very straight, her hands on her knees. Charlie sat opposite her. She looked him gravely in the eye. “Peter was here earlier. What I have to say is very painful to me. I think the sooner it’s said the better. He has confessed his love for you.”

At mention of Peter’s name, Charlie’s heart leaped up violently and now the room reeled. There was a roaring in his head. His face felt numb. He found himself gripping the arms of the chair. “What?” he gasped.

“Does it come as such a surprise to you?” She continued to fix his eyes with hers.

“I just don’t know what you’re talking about.” He felt his cheeks burning. He didn’t know how he could meet her level stare, but his practiced controls took charge and he managed to face her. His mind whirled and clung to a single formula. Deny it. Deny everything. Deny.

“I’m afraid he left no room for misunderstanding. He seemed deeply troubled, and naturally I asked him why. He confessed that he was in love with you—criminally in love with you. He made no attempt to equivocate.”

“He must have gone out of his mind. Did he suggest that I—that we—”

“He made no suggestion that anything improper had occurred. I wouldn’t have permitted him to, in any event. Is it possible that you’ve had no inkling of this?”

Charlie drew his first easy breath. The question gave him all the opportunity he needed to save himself. He thought of the drawings. She had obviously never known anything about them. He had always known that her innocence would bar her from any real understanding of the things she often seemed to be referring to. “How could I have any inkling?” he protested, reminding himself that innocence would be conveyed more effectively by bewiderment than outrage. “Do you suppose I’d have allowed it to go on? I still don’t understand exactly what he said.”

“Just what I’ve told you. I prefer not to repeat it. He seemed to reproach you for not sharing his unspeakable passion.”

“Sharing it? I don’t know anything about it.” The scene that must have occurred between C. B. and Peter was beginning to come clear to him. Peter must have been carrying on about not ever seeing him. C. B. would take this to mean that he had rejected him. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared, but there was only one way out. He thought only of protecting himself with C. B., not of the consequences for Peter. “As you know, I’ve—well, I’ve been pretty involved with Hattie lately. I’ve hardly seen Peter for the last month.”

“And the poor soul has been consumed with jealousy. I suppose that must be the way of it. It did strike me that he wasn’t quite himself. It’s been obvious how devoted he was to you. I understand all about Platonic love, but the other—the physical—one cannot think of it.”

“Certainly not. It’s absolutely impossible. Are you sure he meant it that way? Are you sure he wasn’t just hysterical or something?”

“His words were, ‘I love him in every way possible. Passionately. The way men and women love each other.’ He insisted on it, as if he were proud of it.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Charlie passed his hand over his eyes and steeled himself. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it. He’ll just have to go.”

“Poor tortured soul. I confess I can see no alternative. It’s so terribly sad. I can’t help feeling somehow responsible.”

“Don’t be silly, C. B. Nobody’s responsible. He’s just gone out of his mind.” As his initial terror passed, anger grew in him. He would never forgive Peter for this. He had given him enough warning. That he could have even hinted to her of the acts they performed together filled him with loathing for what they had done. Only her unquestioning belief in him had saved him from being incriminated. He would throw him out. Even if he had to wait till Peter came home from school, he would throw him out tonight.

“He’s doubtless not well mentally,” C. B. said. She continued to sit very straight, her little slippered feet side by side under the hem of one of the flowing garments she favored for the house, her hands in her lap. “But the fact remains that I brought you together, you were kind to him as a kindness to me, I gave this New York arrangement my blessing. I don’t know what I can write to his mother.”

Terror constricted his chest once more. The thought of repercussions appalled him, with the consequent public discussions, the risk of his part in it being misinterpreted. The thing must be buried quickly and without trace. “Why should you write anything? I don’t see why you should have anything more to do with it.”

“Naturally, I’ve forbidden him ever to enter my house again. He left me no choice. But if the poor creature is sick, he must be cared for. One has that responsibility.”

“You’d better let me talk to him. Not that I even want to see him again. But I can find out more about it than you could. Then you can decide.”

“As you wish. Oh, my dearest, I’m afraid you’re fated, as I have been, to be disappointed by people. We idealize them and they rarely live up to our expectations. I’ve never spoken to you of your grandfather. You’ve perhaps found it odd. I know your mother is inclined to be sentimental about him.”

“She’s always said I’m like him.”

“You’re not!” She spoke with sudden, jolting vehemence. “George Collinge was a drunkard and a beast. I was young and very foolish. He induced me to elope with him. My parents closed their door to us. I soon learned that theirs was not the only door that would always be closed to Mr. Collinge. I would never tell anyone the things he did to me. The things he did to your mother are another matter. He beat her. He beat her in drunken rages because of some childish prank or because she was making too much noise, as children do. When I found her one day with her mouth bloody and swollen, I warned him that if it ever happened again, I would take her and leave. He knew I could ruin him utterly. Fortunately, he died very suddenly.

He stared at her transfixed. Her voice throbbed with a passion he didn’t know she possessed. She lifted her handkerchief and brushed nightmares from before her eyes. “I could never give myself to another man. The hurt that can be done the young is incalculable. Yet I have survived. I wonder if I could have lived these last years without you, my dearest. The sensibilities we share make ordinary intercourse with others often painful and destructive. You will have to learn, as I have, to be self-sufficient. One must test others in fire before one finds the rare spirit one can trust. I’ve had to learn it with my own daughter. I suppose I should regard her attitude as a tribute to my success at protecting her from the horror of the past, but I’ve never forgiven her for taking her father’s part against me.”

Charlie was stirred by the drama of her speech, but it left him strangely disturbed, as if something in it had eluded him. Why had she chosen to tell him about his grandfather now? The general point she was making was clear enough, but he felt somehow that there should be something more. “I don’t think she’s ever done that,” he said hesitantly. “She’s just always talked about how charming and handsome and talented he was.”

“Well, now you know the truth. You’re a great consolation to me, my dearest. I can’t forgive myself for exposing you to—to the sickness that Peter has brought into our lives.”

“Please don’t worry about it. I’ll get rid of him right away. It’s not going to be pleasant, but I might as well get it over with. If I go now, I’ll just catch him before he goes to school.”

“Perhaps that would be best. How sad for it to end like this. I was quite smitten by him. I don’t often make such mistakes with people. Come see me tomorrow if you can manage it. Or call.”

She rose, and he stood beside her. They walked arm in arm to the door, she hugging his arm to her in the way he had found over-insistent at times, but which he welcomed now as a blessing. He was overwhelmed by the miracle of his escape and hated Peter for nearly robbing him of this irreplaceable support. If his control had failed for an instant, he would be crossing the room alone, banished forever, in unnamable disgrace.

When he got home, rage gathering in him, he found Peter standing in the living-room door with books in his hands. His greeting lacked its usual exuberance. He avoided Charlie’s eye. “I was just going. I’m late already.”

Charlie stood in front of him, breathing heavily. “You’ve really torn it this time.”

Peter glanced at him and looked away. “She’s told you, has she? She didn’t waste any time. I hoped I’d be able to tell you myself.” He turned and went back into the living room and put down his books. Charlie followed. “All right. How much did she tell you?” Peter asked.

“Everything, I hope,” Charlie said with barely contained violence. “You just couldn’t resist another heart-to-heart, could you? It’s a wonder you didn’t tell her the size of my cock.”

Peter winced. “Please. Tell me what she said. I’ve got to know her version of it.”

“What do you mean, her version? Did you talk to her, or didn’t you? It seems you told her you’re madly in love with me. You may have told her we’ve been going to bed together for all I know, but that’s one thing she didn’t grasp.”