The Rose Garden (17 page)

“And Lewis enjoying it all hugely. Edward always made Lewis look rather dim. Not now, though. Edward's face is so ruined-looking, somehow.”

“Positively raddled. Of course, Edward always looked much younger than his age. You know that, Leona. He kept those boyish looks of his a very long time.”

“Oh, that was another thing, Charles. Did you have to keep on calling him Boy? Really, I was squirming.”

“Don't be a hypocrite, Leona. You know you loved it all. And he had it coming to him. Of course, when you consider how he was brought up, the youngest son, an adoring mother, a trust fund from that uncle of his—”

“Do you know, Charles, I don't believe he has a penny of that money left.”

“Well, what would you expect? You remember how he threw money around. That boat, and those silly little racing cars, and that procession of vacant-faced girls, and that endless, exhausting masculinity, constantly being paraded before us—just a show, of course. The psychiatrists know about that. But so wearisome. And terribly bad manners, if you remember.”

“Yes, Charles, you have a few scores to settle with him, haven't you, dear?” She stopped, afraid that she had gone too far. Charles would not tolerate familiarity. But he answered her calmly.

“Certainly not. His kind of schoolboy humor never affected me, except to bore me. I do know it used to be impossible to have any good conversation when he was around. Those insufferable interruptions, and—Do you remember his abominable habit of saying ‘Now the question direct'?”

“‘Cutting through the grease,' he used to call it.”

“Exactly. Exactly. A thoroughly uncivilized mind, if you call it a mind. A man who will express himself in such terms is capable of any gaucherie. No sensitivity, no character, no breeding, and
of course, now that all that juvenile charm has been drowned in liquor, you can see what he is. It's pitiful, of course.” He sat up and glanced, with impatience, toward the green wall of foliage that concealed the Maitlands' house. “Aren't Lewis and Dolly coming over,” he asked, “and our beaming friend Edward, for lunch? Aren't they late? It must be after noon.”

Leona laughed melodiously. “Charles, Charles,” she said in affectionate reproval. “Are you so eager to sharpen your teeth on poor Edward again? They'll be here soon. Lewis is probably mixing his famous whiskey sours. He said he'd bring a jug over. He and Edward will probably need them.”

“Dolly, too,” Charles said, settling himself comfortably again. “I fancy she got quite a shock when she saw our returned hero last night. She used to have quite a thing about him, you remember.”

“She's trying to forget it now,” Leona said.

“Trying to forget what?” Dolly cried, jumping gaily down onto the deck. She was a short, bouncy girl with brown hair, which she had braided into pigtails. “This thing is divine, Leona. I'm going to lie down flat.” She lay down flat on her back, sighing luxuriously in the sun's heat. “The others will be right along,” she said. “Lewis is bringing the whiskey sours, or will bring them, after he's had a few himself.”

“Where is Edward staying in town? He wouldn't tell me last night,” Charles asked.

“That's just it,” Dolly said. “He won't say where he's staying. He says he's looking for an apartment.” She stopped a moment, then turned to them with a conspiratorial grimace. “Listen,” she said. “Don't tell Lewis I told you, but he tried to borrow money last night. A hundred dollars.”

“Did Lewis give it to him?” Charles asked sharply.

“Not he. You know Lewis. Lewis never lends money, to anyone.”

“Well, Tarnac is down and out, then,” Charles said.

“Oh dear. I hope he's not going to start borrowing all around,” Leona said. “But I was quite cool with him last night. I doubt if he'd have the nerve to ask me.”

“I hope he asks me,” Charles said. “I'll give him short shrift. But then I was cool, too, to say the least.”

“That's another strange thing,” Dolly said. “You know, ordinarily he'd have struck out at you last night. You know how belligerent he used to be. But I got the feeling that everything you and Leona said to him just passed over his head. He didn't seem to care. It was Lewis he was looking to. I suppose he always knew you two disliked him, but apparently he thought of Lewis as a friend.”

Charles nodded. “Everyone saw how Lewis felt about Edward—except Edward himself, of course. That blessed obtuseness of his saved him from a lot in those days.”

“He tried to settle down to a heart-to-heart talk after you people left,” Dolly said, “but he got to the borrowing part too soon, and Lewis cut him off short.”

“Oh, why doesn't he get on the bus and go back to New York!” Leona cried impatiently. “He's ruining the whole weekend.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Charles said. “Far from ruining the weekend, he's adding a certain excitement to it. Besides, he'll undoubtedly stick around now in the hope of retrieving himself. Not that he has a chance. He must see that he made a mistake in coming here. He should never have come, that's all.”

“Oh, don't think he doesn't know that now!” Dolly cried. “You know how he was last night—almost apologetic. Today he's just morose. I don't think he's said two words all morning. Don't worry, though, Leona. I don't think he'll make any scenes. He's hardly in a position to, after all. And of course he doesn't want Lewis to tell about his attempt to borrow money.”

“It's what we were talking about earlier, Leona,” Charles said. “What used to pass as—uh, conversational dexterity in our friend would now be sheer bravado. He can no longer meet us on our own ground. He has to pretend not to notice. He's no longer an equal, after all.”

“Really, Charles!” Dolly cried. “Aren't you carrying this a little too far? He's broke, of course, and obviously he's been on a long bender, but I think it's nonsense to talk about him not being an equal, and so on. I mean, I think that's silly.”

Leona sat up straight. “Dolly,” she said, with a nervous glance at Charles, “please remember to whom you are speaking.”

Charles, whose face had grown small, dark, and closed, was silent for a moment, while Dolly, confused, cast about for words of apology.

“Don't apologize, Dolly,” he said at last. “I may seem silly to you, and of course, you must say what you think. We won't discuss it.”

“Yes, of course, Charles,” Dolly said, on the verge of tears. “I only thought—”

“Don't think, dear,” Charles said. “It does not become you.”

“I can't tell you,” Dolly said desperately, directing herself at Leona, who was still stiff with outrage, “how glad I was to get away from the house this morning. Susie woke up at six sharp, and screamed continuously from six-thirty until after eight. I nearly lost my mind.”

“Oh, yes, Susie. How old is she now?” Leona asked coldly.

“Four,” Dolly said disconsolately. “That was her fourth birthday the other day, Leona. When I had the party.”

“I detest children,” Charles said. “They're so short.”

“Here come Lewis and Edward with the whiskey sours!” Leona cried. “And not a minute too soon, either. We have the glasses all ready here, Lewis. Edward, what do you think of my new sun deck?”

“Great,” Edward said with no enthusiasm. “Just great, Leona.” He pulled a chair from the group around the table, turned it to face the river, and sat down apart from the company.

“Come now, Edward!” Leona cried, with a smile for the others. “I have to almost twist my neck off if I want to see you. Why don't you come in with the rest of us?”

“I'm all right, thanks,” Edward said. He was wearing gray slacks and last night's shirt without a tie.

Edward and Lewis were both tall, both blond, and both strongly built. They both had the same kind of regular, clean-cut, blue-eyed good looks. Lewis's face, bland in his youth, had grown blander. The restlessness that had always characterized Edward had worn his face, and the self-confidence had gone, taking the shine with it. Also, he was suffering from a bad hangover, and looked, generally, perhaps more unhappy than he felt. Lewis at once started to pour the whiskey sours.

“I hear you're looking for an apartment, Edward,” Charles said smoothly. “Perhaps I could help you. I hear of things—friends in the theater going to Hollywood and Rome and such places. What have you in mind? I mean, what price have you in mind?”

Edward gulped the first drink and handed his glass back to Lewis for a refill. “I'm not going to hurry about the apartment,” he said. “I want to look around a bit, find what I really want. I'm all right for the time being. And since I know what your next question is going to be, I'll save you the trouble of asking. I'm staying at the Tenley, on Washington Square. Now you know.”

“The Tenley!” Dolly cried. “Oh, poor Edward, but that's a terrible old fleabag. Oh, I'm sorry, Edward, I didn't mean anything.”

“It's all right, Dolly,” Edward said. “It's a fleabag. You're absolutely right.”

“I thought they'd torn the Tenley down years ago,” Charles murmured. “It was one of the hangouts of my rather rowdy
youth.”

Lewis kicked impatiently at the table leg. “Not to change the subject, but isn't Bridie bringing the lunch down here? Edward and I were a little ahead on those whiskey sours.”

“Which reminds me that I need a drink,” Edward said, passing his glass over his shoulder.

“Oh, she's bringing a basket down any minute now,” Leona said. “She's rattled, as all the maids are today. They can think of nothing but the ball.”

“The ball!” Charles shrieked. “Great heavens, Leona, do you know that I completely forgot the ball. And I thought of nothing else all week. I even brought my embroidered French waistcoat along. I should look superb in the waltzes. I'm going to cut quite a figure, Leona.”

“I'm sure you are, darling,” Leona said, “and the girls will go wild over you, as usual. They adore waltzing with you, Charles.” She turned to Edward. “I suppose you know the maids are having their ball this weekend?” she inquired, smiling. “Tonight's the big night. Or did you remember?”

“I remember the ball,” Edward said. “I thought it was always on Saint Patrick's Day.”

“It used to be,” Dolly said, “but they had too much competition from New York, so they changed it.”

“Charles puts us all in the shade,” Lewis said, and gazed at them with the air of fascinated and respectful amusement that Charles always inspired in him.

“You did rather well yourself, Lewis,” Charles said, pleased. “Last year, some of the policemen were quite jealous.”

“Oh, I'll admit I have my little following,” Lewis said, grinning.

“Well, of course some of the maids must cherish secret passions,” Dolly said. “Poor things. How they must look forward to tonight.”

“There's no secret about their collective passion for Charles,” Leona said. “Charles maintains that only servants can dance the waltz really well, Edward. Female servants, that is. He says their souls are clad in caps and streamers. They hold their heads up to keep the caps on, whirl to make the streamers flutter, and so they achieve the perfect posture for the waltz. You see, Charles, how well I remember what you say?”

“Your memory is phenomenal, darling,” Charles said, “and quite accurate, too. That is just how I imagine them when I dance. I keep my eyes shut tight, of course, and the hall seems filled with black and white dresses, the full black skirts, the frilly white aprons, and streamers—oh, it's a charming picture. My waistcoat provides the significant, necessary note of color. Can you see it all, as I do now?”

“You should have been a painter, Charles,” Dolly said shyly.

“Dolly banal,” Charles said, but kindly. “We can always count on you, can't we, dear.”

“What are you wearing, Leona?” Dolly asked hastily. “I bought a pair of black net stockings with rhinestones on the insteps. After all, it is sort of a fancy-dress thing for us. And why not give those nice cops something to look at, I thought.”

“Very generous of you, darling,” Leona said. “I'm wearing the white crêpe, you know. That should get them.”

“They were eager enough last year,” Lewis said. “I was afraid they'd eat you girls up. The atmosphere got almost primitive.”

Leona laughed throatily. “Well, I do think they like us to come,” she said.

“I think it's a nice thing for us to do,” Dolly said. “I think it's something we ought to do,” she added virtuously.

“Well, of course, they're honored that we come to their little party,” Charles said. “Why, it's positively feudal. And whether they know it or not, that's why they enjoy it.”

“Feudal my foot,” Edward said. He stood up suddenly, staggered, and was obliged to grab the handrail. “Feudal my foot,” he repeated. “You're all itching to go. You wouldn't miss going for the world.”