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Authors: V.C. Andrews

Whitefern (23 page)

BOOK: Whitefern
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Our secrets begot secrets. They spun around us, tightening their grip on Whitefern.

Arden didn't realize it, I thought, but in the end, we might be in a stronger trap, and those shadows that draped themselves in every possible corner would only grow darker. They would be there for Adelle, just as they always would be there for me.

Unless, of course, I found a way for us to escape ourselves.

Pathway to the Light

There were moments during our celebratory dinner when I felt more like an observer than a participant. Arden and Mrs. Matthews talked to each other as if I wasn't even there. She had set the table, but not as nicely as I or Sylvia would. She used paper napkins, something Arden would normally criticize, and she didn't have separate forks for salad. Arden had told her to bring in some glasses for champagne, and she forgot other glasses for water. Following what I believed were her orders, Arden had placed the bassinet next to my chair. She had put Adelle in it. I started for the kitchen when the food arrived from the restaurant, but Arden told me just to sit.

“Mrs. Matthews will handle it all,” he said. “Tonight you have to be a woman who just delivered a baby.”

“But I didn't, Arden. I obviously can do what has to be done.”

“Audrina, if you don't act like the child's mother, no one will believe you are,” he said. “It has to come naturally to you. We're over the crisis, but we can still
make serious mistakes. Besides, haven't you always wanted a child?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why fight it? Enjoy it. Be the mother you've always wanted to be.” He leaned toward me to whisper. “Besides, with what I'm paying her, we should let her work.”

“How long will she be here?”

“Not long now. Everything will return to the way it was. Not to normal, exactly. We have a child to care for now. And you have some work to do with Sylvia, I'm sure. She'll be quite confused. I don't want her out in public too fast, although I'm sure you can ascribe anything she says to her lack of intelligence.”

Before I could speak, Mrs. Matthews entered with a tray on which were three dishes crowded with food. She looked very pleased with the dinner we were about to enjoy. We had beautiful lobster tails, salad, and french fries. I had started to reach for mine when she put the tray in the center of the table, but she seized it first and brought it to me.

“Our new mother has to be treated a little specially tonight,” she said. I saw the sardonic look in her eyes.

“Thank you,” I replied, as if I thought she was being kind.

Arden popped the champagne and poured glassfuls for the three of us. Then he raised his and waited for me to raise mine.

“To a successful pregnancy and delivery, bringing a new child to Whitefern. Thank you for your
professional care, Mrs. Matthews. To your expertise. And finally, to our new daughter, Adelle Lowe.”

We clinked our glasses and drank. Adelle whimpered as if she had heard and understood it all. I couldn't help being uncomfortable, now that it had happened and Sylvia's child was to be mine. It felt very deceitful, and I wondered if it always would. Arden insisted that joy was flooding over us. In his smile, I could see that, at least for now, I had to put all my fears and dark thoughts aside. Perhaps he was right. The new days of light and happiness had arrived with the child. I didn't feel like being grateful to Mrs. Matthews, but I had to admit to myself that without her, this would not have been accomplished. A healthy child was born, Sylvia was safe, and we had not suffered a bit of embarrassment.

As we ate, Arden looked like a young boy again, his pride so bright that he seemed to glow. Rarely at any dinner since this had begun had he been as talkative as he was tonight, and he ate as if it was his first meal in weeks. I saw that even Mrs. Matthews was impressed with his glee. He rattled on and on about the changes he would now make at Whitefern, changes that were important to what he called a new family. He wanted to brighten up the house as much as he could.

“We need to repaint walls, sell off some of those old, dark paintings, and finally put in some real lighting.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Mrs. Matthews said. “When I first entered this house, I thought I was in a funeral parlor!”

“Precisely. That's going to change,” he replied. Apparently, he had already had some important discussions with decorators and had scheduled one to visit us next week.

“Good,” Mrs. Matthews said.

I looked at her. She was behaving as though she was going to be living here forever.

“Of course, nothing will be decided until Audrina confirms it,” Arden said. “A husband can't make a home happy unless his wife is happy in it.”

“Very true,” Mrs. Matthews said. Like Arden, she was suddenly more talkative than ever. “I wish my husband had realized that.”

I perked up. She never talked about her family. “What happened to him?” I asked.

“He was an alcoholic and eventually destroyed his liver. He died twelve years ago.”

I wondered to myself if living with her had driven him to become an alcoholic. “I'm sorry to hear that,” I said. “I wondered why you never mention much about your own family.”

“Yes, well, it doesn't do us any good to belabor the dreadful past events in our lives. Look to the future. Now you have one,” she added. “Be grateful, and let that gratitude drown any sadness.”

“That's not always as easy as it sounds.”

“It's as easy as you want it to be,” she insisted. “Dwelling on disappointments and tragedies will steal away your chance for future happiness.”

She always made statements that sounded like declarations from a higher power.

“Hear, hear,” Arden said, and poured her and himself more champagne. “You want any more?” he asked me.

“No, thank you.”

As if he was at one of his business dinners, Arden began to talk about the economy and how he would like to adjust Mrs. Matthews's portfolio.

I didn't eat half as much as they did, and when I was content with what I had eaten, I thought that one of us should go check on Sylvia. “She might have woken up and would be frightened,” I suggested.

“I doubt it,” Mrs. Matthews said. “I gave her enough to sleep well for a few more hours at least. She needs to sleep now. If you're restless, why don't you clear the table?”

Arden nodded in agreement. So just like that, I was back to my household duties, I thought. She looked so confident, so pleased with her power over me.

I felt my spine harden and sat back. “Would a woman who had just given birth get right back to her household duties?” I asked.

She raised her eyebrows.

I looked at Arden. “I'm simply trying to behave like a woman who just had a baby. I should get to the point where I do so without thinking, don't you agree?” I was so saccharine-sweet that I almost turned my own stomach.

“She has a point, Helen,” Arden said. “Perhaps you can see to some coffee for us, too, when you clear the table. I'd like to have some with brandy tonight.”

She didn't flush red, exactly, but I could see the
fury in her eyes. She rose and began to clear off the table. At that moment, I really appreciated Arden. He smiled at me, and I thought that maybe now that this was all coming to an end, we could return to being the husband and wife we had set out to be. We'd return to feeling the affection we'd had for each other when we first met, a time that felt so very long ago.

Adelle woke and began to cry. For a moment, I panicked, but then I lifted her carefully and rocked her.

“That's not what she wants,” Mrs. Matthews said as she returned from the kitchen. “It's time for another feeding. Get used to it. You won't be sleeping too many hours in a row for quite a while.”

“Well, you can surely help for a few weeks, can't you, Helen?” Arden asked. I listened carefully to his tone of voice. Whenever he asked her to do something now, there was an underlying threat.

“I can help a little, but if she becomes too dependent on me, it won't do you any good when I leave.”

“When will you leave?” I asked, perhaps a bit too harshly.

“As soon as I can,” she said. “Don't worry about that. Come with me to the kitchen. I'll fix the baby's bottle, and you can watch and know how to do it after this.” She looked at Arden. “Maybe you can pitch in, Mr. Lowe, and help clear the rest of the table. I will prepare some coffee, too, as you requested.”

He laughed. “Me? Clear off a table? I haven't lifted a dish off a table since—”

“Since now,” she said.

I almost laughed out loud at the way the smile flew
off his face. He looked at mine and then, not hiding his displeasure, began to pick up dishes and glasses.

Later, he drank too much brandy and nearly fell asleep on the settee. I reminded him of what we had to do to get Adelle and me upstairs this evening.

“Why don't we wait?” he asked.

“You promised me, Arden. It hasn't been pleasant sleeping in those rooms, either for me or for Sylvia.”

He groaned and got up.

While Adelle was sleeping, I brought up some of my clothing and then went to the first Audrina's room to see the nursery he had created. I was impressed, but not seeing the familiar toys and furniture stunned me at first. Even after I had learned the truth and Papa had faced up to the deceptions he had created, he had not wanted to disturb the room. I think there was a point where he had convinced himself that there really was a first Audrina. He had wanted her so much, as he had enjoyed her. In a way, changing the sacred rocking-chair room was like burying another part of him.

Arden came up behind me. “Well?” he asked. “You're not going to start complaining about not having those dusty things in here, are you?”

“No, Arden. You did a beautiful job. I am proud of you.”

“Good,” he said. “Let's finish moving everything up. I have a big day tomorrow. I've decided that I'm not moving that rocking chair up tonight. It's late, and it's heavy.”

“Okay, Arden,” I said. I was too tired to argue about anything.

Shortly after, Mrs. Matthews decided we could help Sylvia back up to her room. She was groggy, but the pain seemed tolerable. The two of us practically carried her up the stairs and got her into her bed.

“I'll look in on her periodically,” Mrs. Matthews said. “You look after the baby. You know now how to prepare her bottle, so you'll be the one to go up and down the stairs.”

Adelle was set up beside our bed on my side. The first time she cried, Arden woke with a start and groaned. “I should have left you downstairs until she sleeps through the night,” he said. “I have to have my sleep. It's important that I'm alert at the brokerage, and I get up so early.”

“I'm sorry, Arden.” I thought for a moment and then said, “Maybe for a while, it would be better if I slept with Sylvia and the baby slept in her room with us.”

“Yes,” he said instantly, jumping on the suggestion. “While you get the bottle prepared, I'll move the bassinet and Adelle in there. Brilliant.”

As I headed for the stairs, Mrs. Matthews stepped out of her room in her robe and slippers. “What's the problem?” she asked.

I told her our plan and what had caused the changes.

“My husband was the same way when our son was born,” she said. “I've never doubted that men are the weaker sex. Go on. I'll help him.”

She headed for our bedroom, and I went down to the kitchen.

I guessed it would be true, I thought. It would be
as if Adelle was both Sylvia's and mine, rather than just mine. I fed her in Sylvia's room, and she fell asleep again.

I felt exhausted, too, and was happy to lower my head to the pillow. I fell asleep in minutes, and when the sun burst in, I was shocked at how long I had slept. My first thoughts were of Sylvia. I got up quickly to get the day started. She'd barely noticed I was there. She looked dazed.

“How are you, Sylvia?” I asked, and her eyes lit with a happy glow.

“Our baby Adelle,” she said, sitting up.

Mrs. Matthews appeared in the doorway, dressed. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Maybe I'll be leaving sooner than we thought,” she said. She looked at Adelle, still sleeping. Then she took Sylvia's blood pressure and her temperature while I got up and dressed.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She's doing fine. You'll bring up her breakfast this morning, but tomorrow I want her downstairs for all her meals. She can do a little walking later.”

“Watch Adelle,” I told Sylvia.

She nodded excitedly. Then I followed Mrs. Matthews down to the kitchen. Arden had apparently left more than an hour ago.

“I can make Sylvia's breakfast,” I said.

Mrs. Matthews paused and smiled. “You can do everything, Audrina, but for now, concentrate on the baby only.”

I wasn't in the mood to argue. I told myself this wouldn't go on much longer anyway.
You were patient and tolerant up to now. Hang on a little longer, Audrina Lowe
.

Sylvia grew stronger with every passing day. Oddly, the memory of what she had gone through seemed to drift, replaced with what she believed I had gone through. Mrs. Matthews was right about Sylvia's swollen breasts. The leakage frightened her, and she felt the pressure and discomfort for nearly ten days after the delivery. Mrs. Matthews bought a better bra for her to wear during this time and had her use some ice packs.

BOOK: Whitefern
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