All That Glitters (11 page)

Does everything good have to come with something bad attached? I wondered. Is the world a balance between good and evil? Why weren't there more angels than devils? Nina Jackson used to tell me there were far more devils and that was why we needed all the powders and the chants, the bones and good-luck charms. Even Grandmere Catherine gazed into the darkness with the belief that evil lurked within every shadow and she had to be vigilant and prepared to do battle. Was that my fate, too . . . to always do battle?
I hated when I fell into these despondent moods, but that was what Gisselle's letters and cards always did to me. But nothing she had written or would write would compare to the phone call I received from her a week later.
Paul and I were just finishing dinner. Mrs. Flemming had fed Pearl and taken her to the den to play with her toys. Molly poured us coffee and went into the kitchen to bring out the strawberry shortcake Letty had made. We were both complaining about the weight we had gained since we had moved into Cypress Woods and had Letty prepare our meals, but neither of us was willing to put restrictions on what she prepared. We laughed at our self-indulgence.
Paul began to tell me about some legislators who were trying to get him to run for office and who would be paying us a visit in a week or so when James suddenly appeared to announce I had a phone call. Neither Paul nor I had heard the phone ring.
"I was standing right beside it and picked it up quickly," James explained.
"Who is it?"
"Your sister. She sounds very excited and demanded I call you to the phone immediately," he said.
I grimaced. I was sure she was going to tell me she and Beau had become formally engaged. That was one bit of news she wanted to deliver personally so she could hear my reaction.
"Excuse me," I said to Paul, and rose.
"Take it in my office," he suggested. I went there quickly, fortifying myself for the announcement. "Hello, Gisselle," I said. "What's so urgent?" She didn't respond for a moment.
"Gisselle?"
"There's been an accident," she said
breathlessly. Oh no, I thought. Beau.
"What? Who?"
"It's Daphne," she gasped. "She fell from her horse late this afternoon and struck her head on a rock."
"What happened?" I asked, my heart pounding. "She died . . . just a little while ago," Gisselle said. "I have no father. . . I have no mother. I have only you."

7
The Ties
That Bind
.
Paul looked up from his coffee as I slowly

reentered the dining room, One gaze at my face told him I had received bad news.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Daphne . . . fell from her horse and struck her head. She's dead," I reported in a lifeless voice. The news had left me stunned.
"Mon Dieu.
Who phoned?"
"Gisselle."
"How is she taking it?"
"From the tone of her voice and the things she said on the phone, not too well, but I think she's more frightened than anything else. I'll have to go to New Orleans," I said.
"Of course. I'll cancel my meetings in Baton Rouge and go with you," he offered.
"No, you don't have to go right away. The funeral isn't until Wednesday. There's no sense in your hanging around that dreary house all day."
"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "All right. I'll meet you there," he said. "What about Pearl?"
"I think it's better for me to leave her here with Mrs. Flemming."
"Okay. Tragic," Paul said, nodding slowly.
"Yes. I can't help thinking how devastated my father would have been had he been alive when this happened to her. He idolized her. I saw that from the first moment I met them."
"Poor Ruby," Paul said, rising to embrace me. "Even after I've built this little Shangri-La away from everyone, sadness still finds its way to our doors."
"There is no such paradise on earth, Paul. You can pretend and ignore just so much, but the dark clouds won't disappear. I think that's something we both better realize," I warned. He nodded.
"When are you leaving?"
"In the morning," I said numbly. Through my mind flitted all kinds of gloomy thoughts.
"I hate to see any sadness in your face, Ruby." He kissed me on the forehead and hugged me to him, pressing his lips to my hair.
"I better go see to my packing," I whispered, and hurried away, my heart feeling as if it had shrunk in my chest and only tapped a tiny beat.
The following morning, after kissing Pearl good-bye and telling Mrs. Flemming I would call often, I went out to my car. Paul had carried out my things and put them in the trunk. He was waiting for me at the car, his face downcast and troubled. Neither of us had slept well the night before. I heard and saw him come to my door several times, but I didn't let him know I was awake. I was afraid that his
comforting kisses and embrace would slip into something else again.
"I really hate to let you go by yourself," he said. "I should accompany you."
"And then do what? Hold my hand? Pace back and forth thinking about all the things you could and should be doing? You would just make me nervous," I told him. He smiled.
"Just like you to always think about someone else's feelings, even at a time like this." He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me and I got into my car. "Drive carefully," he said. "I'll call you tonight."
"'Bye." With many trepidations, I headed for New Orleans.
I had the top down and wore a white silk kerchief. How much I had changed, I thought. All of the difficulties and troubles during the last year or so had aged and toughened me in ways I was just beginning to understand. A year ago, driving myself to New Orleans would have been the same as taking myself to the moon. Somewhere along this short but difficult journey I had undergone, I had left the little girl behind. I had a woman's work to do now and I had inherited the grit and the strength and the confidence from Grandmere Catherine to do it.
Despite my fears of it happening, I didn't get lost traveling the streets of New Orleans. When I pulled into the circular drive and saw Daddy's old Rolls-Royce parked by the garage, I gazed at the front door and hesitated. It had been years and years since I had entered this house. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. The new butler came to the door quickly. When he set his eyes on me, he blinked rapidly with confusion at first.
"Oh," he said. "You must be Mademoiselle's twin sister."
"That's right. I'm Ruby."
"My name is Stevens, madame," he said with a slight nod. "I'm sorry for your trouble."
"Thank you, Stevens."
"May I bring in your things?" he offered.
"Thank you," I said. I had expected to see many cars in the driveway when I pulled in and dozens of Daphne's friends gathered to console Gisselle and Bruce, but the house was quiet, empty. "Where is my sister?"
"Mademoiselle is upstairs in her suite," he said, stepping back. I entered the great foyer, and for a moment it was as if I had never left, as if all that had happened since had been a dream. I almost expected to see Daphne come out of the office to smirk a greeting at me and question what I was wearing or where I had been. But there was nothing but silence. All of the lights were either low or unlit. The chandeliers hung like drops of ice. The grand stairway was draped in shadows as if Death itself had traipsed through the house and left his tracks over the carpets and floors.
"I'll be staying in the room adjoining my sister's, Stevens," I told the butler.
"Very good, madame." He hurried out to get my suitcase and I started up the stairs. Before I reached the landing, I heard a peal of laughter coming from Gisselle's open doorway. She was on the telephone. When she turned and saw me standing there, her smile quickly faded and she immediately took on the dark look of a bereaved daughter.
"I can't talk anymore, Pauline. My sister has just arrived and we have to discuss all the funeral arrangements and things. Yes, it's just horrible," she said with a deep sigh. "Thank you for being so understanding. Good-bye." She cradled the receiver slowly and then rose to greet me. "I'm so glad you've come, Ruby," she said, and embraced me, kissing both my cheeks. "It's been terrible, a horrible emotional drain. I don't know what's keeping me standing."
"Hello, Gisselle," I said dryly, and gazed around the room. Her clothes were strewn about and there was a tray of empty dishes from breakfast on a nightstand with an opened movie fan magazine beside it.
"I haven't been able to see anyone or do anything," she immediately complained. "It's all fallen on my head."
"What about Bruce?" I inquired.
"Bruce?" She threw her head back with a thin laugh. "What a wet noodle he turned out to be. And don't I know why, too?" she said, her eyes mean and piercing. "He's lost his meal ticket. All he's been doing is going over legal papers, hoping to find a loophole, but I told him in no uncertain terms to forget it."
"But he was her husband."
"I told you before. In name only, and only as a servant. Daphne locked him out of everything. He's going out of here with little more than he came in with. We'll see to that. Beau has spoken with our attorneys and----"
"Beau?"
"Yes, Beau. He's been the only thing keeping me going. He's been an absolute superman. Right from the start. You don't know how horrible it was. You weren't there," she snapped as though it were my fault I wasn't. "She and Bruce went riding and her horse bucked and threw her. Bruce came running back to the house screaming. Beau and I were still in bed," she inserted with a wry smile. "We both heard Bruce shouting and threw on some clothes. We found her sprawled on the ground, a nasty bruise on her temple. Beau, who's had some medical training, told Bruce not to move her, but to send for an ambulance. He checked her eyes and took her pulse and looked up at me and shook his head. 'It looks bad,' he told me.
"I went back to the house to dress in some warmer clothes. The ambulance arrived and they put her on the stretcher and took her to the hospital, but it was a waste of time. She was dead by the time they arrived.
"Bruce went berserk, blaming himself because he let her talk him into taking the more gentle horse. At least, that was what he claimed. My guess is he never volunteered to ride Fury. He wasn't man enough." She smirked.
"Where is Bruce now?"
"Downstairs in the office, drinking himself into a stupor, I imagine. I told him he could stay until after the funeral."
"You mean he doesn't even have any claim on the house?"
"No. It's all complicated, tied up in what is now our estate. According to Beau, our lawyers think they might be able to accelerate our taking more direct control. That was the word he used . . 'accelerate.' There is a great deal of money, you know. Remember how stingy Daphne was with us after Daddy had died? Well, she can't be so stingy now, can she?
"Have you noticed how long my hair has grown?" she said, shifting topics without pausing to take a breath. "Beau likes it that way." It was nearly the same length as my own hair.
"How is . . Beau?"
"Wonderful. . . and happy," she added quickly. "So don't say anything or do anything to ruin things for us or . . . or the world might just find out what a sinner you are," she said, shooting a hostile glance at me.
"How can you make threats at a time like this, Gisselle?" I asked, astounded.
"I'm not making threats. I'm just warning you not to spoil my happiness. You've made your decisions and you're happy with your choices. Good. Now I have a right to be happy, too. And so does Beau."
"I didn't come here to ruin anyone's happiness." "That's nice to hear." She smiled, tilting her head toward the door. "Paul isn't with you?"
"He will be here for the funeral."
"And the baby . . . what's her name?"
"Pearl," I said sharply. I knew she knew her name. "I thought it was better to leave her at home with Mrs. Flemming."
"Good. Then you and I can get right to business."
"Where's . ."
"Daphne's body? At the funeral home. You don't think I would permit it in the house, do you? Ugh. It was bad enough we had Daddy here afterward. The only thing we'll have here is the wake, and it will be a nice wake, too. I've already called the caterers. Of course, we'll have tons of flowers. People are sending them like crazy, but I'm having them brought right to the funeral home. And I've prepared a list of people to ask."
"What are you talking about? List of people? This isn't supposed to be a party," I said.
"Of course it is," she replied. "It's a party to help us forget the tragedy. Now, don't go around here with a long face and pretend you're devastated. You hated her and she knew it, too. I can't say I cared for her, but I probably have more reason to be sad than you do. She was my stepmother much longer than she was yours."
I stared at her a moment. Maybe Daphne deserved such a daughter. She had certainly sowed the seeds and by example taught Gisselle to be this selfcentered. I sighed, anxious now to get the funeral over with and any other arrangements completed and return to Cypress Woods, where life, at least for me, was far less complicated.
Stevens brought my things up to the room.
"Oh, how nice," Gisselle cried when she saw him carrying my suitcase. "We'll be next to each other again. It's times like this that I really appreciate having a sister," she declared, loud enough for Stevens to hear.
"Mrs. Gidot asked me to inform you that she has prepared some lunch, mademoiselle. Do you want it brought up or. . ."
"Oh no. Tell her my sister has arrived and we'll be dining in the dining room,
tout de suite,"
Gisselle replied, and then beamed a smile of pride at me. "I learned quite a bit of French while I was in Paris with Beau," she added.
"Tres bien,
mademoiselle," Stevens said, and left.
"What did he say?"
"He said very well. Who's Mrs. Gidot?"
"The Frenchwoman Daphne hired to replace Nina Jackson."
"Where is Nina?"
"How would I know where someone like that is? Really, Ruby. Anyway, I hope you're hungry. Mrs. Gidot is a very good cook and will have something delicious for us to eat, I'm sure."
"I'll just freshen up," I said.
"So will I. I've been crying and dragging myself around so much, I'm sure I look terrible. And Beau will be here in a little while," she added.
My heart started to run away with itself. Just the thought of being face-to-face with Beau again made me tremble. I tried not to let Gisselle see my apprehension.
"Fine," I said, and flashed a smile. Then I hurried out and into the room that had once been so new and wonderful to me, a room in which Beau had first kissed me and in which he had held me and comforted me during Daddy's wake. I smiled when I saw the picture of the little girl and the puppy still on the wall, and then I went to the window and looked out on the tennis courts and the flowers, recalling how I had felt like a princess the first time I had slept here. It had all looked so magical and precious, I could never have imagined the sadness and trouble that loomed above the great house, just waiting to rain down over us all.
I stopped to look into the office before I went to the dining room to join Gisselle for lunch. Just as she had said, Bruce was there thumbing through a stack of papers, an open bottle of bourbon beside them. He wore a jacket and a tie, but the tie was pulled loose. His hair was disheveled and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. When he glanced up at me, his first thought was that I was Gisselle, but after he focused, he realized it was I.
"Ruby!" he cried, rising quickly. He bumped into the corner of the desk in his eagerness to embrace me. The stench of whiskey reached me before he did. He hugged me quickly and stepped back. "It's horrible, horrible. I can't believe what's happened."
"Why?" I said sharply. "It happened to my father; it happened to my uncle Jean."
He blinked rapidly and then shook his head.
"Of course, those were terrible tragedies, too, but
Daphne. . . Daphne was at the prime of her life. She was more beautiful than ever. She was . . ."
"I know how wonderful you thought she was, Bruce. I am sorry this has happened. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. There is enough sadness in the world without our contributing to it."
"I knew you would think like that," he said, smiling. "Your sister. . ." He shook his head. "She's gone wild, and with that boyfriend of hers. . they're conspiring against me. I need your help, Ruby."
"My help? You ask for my help?" I nearly laughed aloud.
"You were always the more reasonable one," he said. "And now that you are very well off yourself, you will understand. Daphne and I had certain arrangements," he continued. "Oh, we never put them in writing as such, but we did. She and I discussed what we would do should something happen to one of us, and we agreed that the other should be granted sole power of attorney. If you will have the estate lawyers draw up the papers . . ."
"For years you and Daphne were the
conspirators, Bruce," I said with ice in my voice. "The two of you conspired against my father. You embezzled, you deceived. Only apparently you were partners in crime with a much smarter second half who wrote you out of most of your spoils," I said, gazing at the pile of documents. "I feel sorry for you, but I won't lift a finger to help you," I said. "Take what you've stolen successfully and leave," I advised him. His mouth dropped open.