Anna Godbersen - Envy Страница 10

“Such fun,” Elizabeth said, and then she smiled, the kind she used to employ when cooing over balls or high-heeled slippers, the kind that suffused her cheeks and throat an affectionate pink. Her old friend beamed back. They regarded each other for several seconds, and then Elizabeth rested her long, slender fingers — not as well maintained as previously, but still elegantly constructed — over Penelope’s. “I cannot wait.”

Nine

Where did Carolina Broad come from? Who were her parents, really, and how did she establish herself among us so quickly? Is she the creation of Carey Lewis Longhorn, or is there some other author of this latest girl on the make?

— FROM CITÉ CHATTER, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1900

“I THINK THAT WENT OFF VERY WELL,” SAID SNOWDEN Cairns, who was standing somewhere behind Diana in the more used of the Hollands’ two parlors, as the last of their luncheon guests crossed the sidewalk to their waiting carriages. Diana, who had no particular eye for social events or their success or failure (the grand sweep of an evening could never compare, for her, to its secret, stolen moments), shrugged indifferently. She didn’t know if it had gone off well, although she did now know who Eleanor Wetmore had her eye on, and that she was determined to be engaged by the younger Wetmore’s June wedding. Diana also knew that she was going to Palm Beach, with her sister, and Penelope, and — most achingly, most confusingly — with Henry, who still loved her.

Through the lace undercurtains, down on the street, Mrs. Schoonmaker and Miss Broad could be seen crossing to the former lady’s carriage. Mrs. Schoonmaker went up first, pausing before she did to spread her fingers across her black, accordion-pleated skirt and pull it back from her feet. She had not replaced her gloves after lunch, and so the ceremonial diamonds she wore on her left ring finger glinted in the winter sun. The prospect of seeing Penelope and Henry together made Diana’s heart a little sore, but her mind could not keep quiet about all the things he had not gotten to say. She longed to hear the rest of his explanation, and about all the times he had thought about her in the months since they had been together. She did think, a little wistfully, of all the letters she had burned, wondering what sweet confessions they had contained. But she was glad she’d gotten to tell him how dramatically all his words had perished, and anyway she was distracted by the idea of how he would kiss her if they were alone together now.

Carolina went after Penelope, somewhat too quickly. She had not yet learned how to pause and preen like a lady of leisure, although her jaunty, shiny black top hat certainly looked like it might have cost her half a Holland family lady’s maid’s yearly wages. Diana had taken no small part in the creation of Carolina Broad — she had in fact sold the item that had introduced her to society, although somehow the spelling of her surname had changed in the printing — and though she wasn’t sorry that she had done it, she couldn’t help but feel a little proprietary regret that her onetime friend had taken up with Penelope. It had been undoubtedly good for her social standing, but it made her rather less likable, especially now that it was dawning on Diana how Penelope might have come by the information that had sealed her marriage to Henry.

Standing in the window, Diana could not help but think how all of Carolina’s stature and finery could be traced back to that one little item in the paper. At the time, her only true motivation had been money. But now she knew how satisfying writing could be, how you could create a whole person and event with a small insinuation. Why, she wouldn’t be surprised if her item on Eleanor Wetmore transformed that sorry girl’s desires into reality, or if she couldn’t turn Henry around with a few well-formed sentences. Already she was imagining how happy Barnard was going to be about the trip, and all the stories that she could wire him.

“Yes,” Mrs. Holland, warming herself in a chair by the fire, agreed. “I was worried about you at the beginning, Elizabeth, but by the end you seemed like your old self.”

Diana’s gaze traveled to her sister, who was standing nearer the high windows that faced down on the walk. Her hair, which had returned to its ash blond shade since December — it had still been sun-streaked from her time in California then — was drawn into a low bun, and she was turned so that Diana could see the side of her face at a quarter angle. The halo around her head was lit up and pale, but the dark shadows under her cheekbones were pronounced. She looked tired, and Diana wondered guiltily if she hadn’t pushed her too hard.

“I do worry about the proposed travel plans for Miss Elizabeth, however,” Snowden continued. Outside, Penelope’s driver urged the horses forward. Elizabeth did not respond immediately, and instead watched as they pulled away from the curb. Diana moved toward her sister and put her arm around her waist, as though that might shore her up to lobby further for their southern journey.

“It’s all right, Mr. Cairns.” Elizabeth turned her back toward the window and allowed herself to be hugged by her younger sister, who grew ever more aware of her fragility now that they were in each other’s arms. “I think it would be good for me to be out in the world a little.”

“You don’t have to go,” Diana forced herself to say, though she knew that the way she was looking at her sister made a quite opposite statement. How she wished she had Elizabeth to herself for a little, so they could discuss what Henry’s real intentions were, and also how high and mighty Penelope had acted at lunch, and what a tremendous insult it was that she’d come at all, and did anyone really think she was beautiful with those oversize features anyway?

“But it wouldn’t be so very difficult if you came with me.” Elizabeth spoke in a soft but determined voice as she pushed one of Diana’s stray glossy curls behind her ear. “And we will be with our old friend Henry Schoonmaker, whom we have barely had time to see since his marriage, and perhaps put to rest any lingering discomforts he may have over our former connection. If you go with me,” she went on, giving Diana a purposeful look, “then it will be all right.”

Diana pressed closer, trying to somehow or other impart a bit of her own strength to her older sister. The fluttering of her heart, and the yearning to see Henry’s face up close again, came involuntarily at the sound of his name. She hoped her mother did not notice. Already she was imagining the sight of him on a railway platform, and how his expression would change subtly when he recognized her among the crowd. In this fantasy she was able to read all his feelings for her in a few minutes, and afterward the horrible wondering that kept her up at night and ruined her sleep would cease.

Ten

Even when a girl is married, she still never completely leaves her mother and father’s home.

— LADIES’ STYLE MONTHLY, FEBRUARY 1900

PENELOPE SCHOONMAKER HAD NOT YET TAKEN off her burgundy wool coat with the black piping and high, proud collar, and already she was slouched on one of the striped settees in her bedroom in the Hayes mansion at 670 Fifth Avenue. Penelope had hurried straight upstairs because she couldn’t stand the idea of seeing her parents, who were so stupid and useless, and who had caused her so much pain by not giving her a more tasteful and established family to begin with. Sometimes she felt like a changeling of the most elegant variety.

Her former bedroom, very much like her current one, was a study in white and gold, except that it was larger and had been built with the idea of housing many, many gowns. She shot bitter looks at the pile of monogram canvas — covered Louis Vuitton trunks, with their little Japonisme initials, which she had bought in the shop on Rue Scribe in Paris long before she was married. They were her official excuse for having returned home that day. The real reason was that Henry’s indifference — reluctance, if she were to be honest, which was not among her native characteristics — to her plan of accompanying him to Florida was growing more obvious, and she feared the Schoonmaker servants would begin to talk.

“I don’t even want to go anymore,” she said to Isaac Phillips Buck, her closest confidante, who had arrived several hours earlier to oversee the packing of the warm-weather clothing that had not yet been moved into her new wardrobe at the Schoonmaker residence. He glanced at her from the bed, where he had been folding laces, his large girth perched against its chenille edge.

“Oh, but you must, for my sake, to tell me what everyone is wearing,” said Mrs. William Schoonmaker, her mother-in-law, who had accompanied her that morning. Her tone was dry and her pretty features were framed in white fur. She had lit a cigarette somewhere between the door and the window, and she exhaled before qualifying her statement: “William is such an ass for not letting me go. I don’t know how he deludes himself that I actually like attending those silly political functions with him.”

Isabelle, who had proved such an ally to Penelope in her campaign to marry Henry, had been moody lately, and not a bit of fun. Penelope ignored the older lady’s words, pushing herself up and walking over to the bed with its heaps of decorative pillows and neat piles of accessories. She picked up a vermilion sash and turned away from Buck as she examined it, letting her fingers glide slowly along its length.

“Don’t go,” Buck said.

“I do have to, of course.”

She didn’t mask her impatience, for Buck knew that to back out of the trip would be to shatter all appearances. He usually introduced himself by stressing his surname, as though to suggest that he was one of the old Buck clan who lived in country gentility somewhere up the Hudson, but in fact his prestige derived almost entirely from his exquisite taste and from the firmly held belief among a certain kind of New York lady that he was absolutely necessary to have on one’s payroll when there was a party to be thrown. This was the reason he had first become known to the Hayeses, and especially to their youngest member, and it meant that he was well aware how very new their reputation was, and how assiduously it was to be maintained.

“The papers all reported how you attended the luncheon with Elizabeth Holland, and that your friendship is as strong as ever.” Buck shrugged, as though that was all that might be concerning her.

“It’s not Elizabeth I’m worried about.” She sat down on the bed, and drew the smooth fabric over her face thoughtfully. “Elizabeth I can handle. But how will it look if my husband goes on a trip without me, after only two months? What will everybody say? I couldn’t let him go alone, you know that.”

“No.” Over by the window, Isabelle had lit another cigarette. “You couldn’t in a thousand years do that.”

“Well, at least you’re going to escape this dismal, gray city.” Buck’s small eyes, which were enveloped in well-moisturized flesh, rolled to the elaborately frescoed ceiling as his tone sank dramatically.

“True.” Penelope felt hot all of a sudden, and she jerked the buttons of her coat open one at a time. “It won’t be so bad, and I think a little sunshine might bring Henry around, but now of course I’ve gotten myself outnumbered. I mean, Miss Broad is on my side, I suppose, but she’s not as grand as she looks, and if anybody knows that, it’s Elizabeth. The two Hollands together will surely be always looking for some way to step on my skirt. And Teddy will be there, and everybody knows that he was always infatuated with Liz….”