The Flower Brides

by Grace Livingston Hill

  Was it—it couldn’t be that she was unhappy about Laurie himself. Of course, he had said he would call her up again this evening and he hadn’t done it. Doubtless something had prevented him. But—ah—now she was getting down to the real sharp sting that hurt her. It was not that he hadn’t called as he had said he would. It was not that he had passed her in his car as she walked along on her way home late that afternoon and he had not noticed her. That might be easily explained, and she could have a lot of fun teasing him about not recognizing his friends on the street. But it was that he had been in the company of another girl, a dashing, dark-haired girl with vivid lips and shadowed, furtive eyes full of arrogant assurance, eyes that offered and dared and were never shy nor true. And the thing that cut had been that Laurie, her Laurie, as she had come to feel he was, had been looking down into those other luring eyes with exactly the same tender, melting expression that he had often worn when he looked into her eyes.

  Marigold, as she lay there in the dark, bared her soul for the first time to the truth. She let the vision of Laurie’s look that she had seen and photographed clearly on her memory come out in the open while she examined it, and her honest soul had to admit that Laurie had never given her any more melting glances than he had lavished on that chic, sophisticated girl he had with him. Like a knife she let it go through her soul, as if she would see the worst, press the wound, and cut out the thing that hurt her.

  And then a new thought came to her. Was this girl whom his mother had invited to be the guest of honor at the party? Was it this girl who would be her rival? She stared at the wall in the dark and saw as it were her own soul, with all its unworthy motives crying out within her for vengeance and victory. Had she really been going to that party to show them all what a winner she was? To conquer his mother and sister, and his whole social set? And her only armor that fateful dress that she no longer had? What presumption! What colossal conceit! But—could she have done it even with that dress? Would it not, as her mother had suggested, have become unwonted armor to her that would merely have embarrassed her with its unaccustomed elegance?

  All her self-assurance, her self-sufficiency, her cocksureness had vanished now and left her in the dark alone there to face her situation. And suddenly she saw herself out again in that vast expanse of her dream, in that same impossible situation, with nothing before and no way behind, and a dizzying drop waiting to swallow her! And Laurie! Where was Laurie? Gone, waving his hand, and smiling into another girl’s eyes!

  In due time, she got hold of herself, brushed away angry, frightened tears, and tried to think what to do.

  Should she go and get another dress even more regal than the first, perhaps black velvet with startling lines and a single flashing pin of rare workmanship? No matter how much it cost, she could borrow money and pay for it in time! Should she? And try to compete with that unprincipled other girl? That she was unprincipled seemed obvious, even in the brief glimpse she had had of her. But Marigold would have to be prepared for even more than lack of principle, if she really started out to compete, to have them all at her feet, and Laurie with them. Or should she just drop out of it entirely? Did she want Laurie if he had to be won by such methods? If he did not really care for her it would be better to learn it now than when it was forever too late.

  Then she tried to calm herself. She told herself that she was getting all worked up over nothing. That Laurie was only being polite to a guest and that it was her own excited state of mind that had imagined him flirting with that other girl. Probably the mother was being very friendly and really wanted to get to know her. Probably Laurie had asked her to invite her and would be terribly disappointed if she didn’t come. Besides, she had finally accepted the invitation two days ago. She couldn’t write another note and decline it, could she?

  Over and over again she thrashed out the question. Then suddenly old Maggie’s warning that morning came to her. What had old Maggie meant? Was it just a crazy notion she had gotten into her head? Or had she heard something, seen something that made her come in love to warn her? Why hadn’t she questioned her? Wait, didn’t Maggie say she was sometimes called in to work at the Trescotts’ when they needed an extra hand?

  Wearily she went on nearly all night tormenting her young soul with this and that, until the thought of the party was almost repulsive to her, and the pretty green silk she had been so pleased about that morning became a symbol of great mortification. A simple dress like that to appear at a party where everything was most formal! She couldn’t wear it!

  She slept a few moments at intervals but awoke quite early when the first dawn was beginning to streak the sky, and somehow a great decision had been reached. She was no longer tossed about by every thought that entered her head. She knew what she was going to do, and she would lose no time in doing it. If Laurie felt hurt about it afterward she could not help it. This surely would be a way to tell whether he really cared for her or whether he was just having a good time while it lasted.

  But her face had a wan, white look as she hurried down in the morning and found her mother already getting breakfast.

  “Now, Mother,” she said firmly, as if she were the mother speaking to her child, “we’ve got a lot to do today. We’re starting for Washington tomorrow afternoon as soon as I get out of school!”

  Mrs. Brooke looked up at her daughter in bewilderment.

  “What do you mean ‘we’?” she asked. “Do you think that if I went I couldn’t take care of myself, and you would have to take the double trip in order to take me there?”

  Marigold laughed. “No, Mother dear, I know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but I was thinking of going along. I was invited, wasn’t I? And I’d like to be there for Aunt Marian’s birthday, too.”

  “My dear! That would be foolish for you to take that long ride and back again just for a couple of hours there. You would be all tired out for the party, and you would look like an old rag when you got back here. You would have to rush dressing, and there would be nobody here to help you. I certainly won’t hear of it.”

  “Party!” said Marigold calmly. “I’ve given up the party. I’m not going. That is, not unless Laurie makes a terrible fuss—and I don’t think he will find out in time.”

  “What do you mean? Have you sent your regrets?” asked Mrs. Brooke with deep anxiety in her tone. What was this that Marigold was doing, anyway? Giving up the party that she had so set her heart on, giving it up just for her? Or perhaps she was disappointed about not having the dress she wanted and would blame her mother in her heart for having disapproved of the other dress.

  “I’m mailing it this morning on my way to school,” she said quietly. “I’m saying that ‘Miss Brooke regrets that unforeseen circumstances will prevent her accepting the kind invitation of Mrs. Daniel Trescott on Saturday evening, February the fifth.’”

  “But, child! I can’t let you do that just for me!”

  “I’m not sure that I am doing it just for you, Mother dear. I’ve decided it is best. Now, don’t you say another word. We haven’t time. Perhaps sometime I’ll tell you all about it, but now we’ve got too much to do to quibble over this and that. Have you got to go down to the library at all today? Couldn’t you just call up and tell them you’re not coming?”

  “I certainly could not. If I am to be away, I shall have to give instructions to whoever is to take my place. They would not understand all my records. I had to leave a number of unfinished items last night, and it is important.”

  “All right then, you go to the library and finish there as soon as you can, and then go to Grayson’s and get yourself a new pair of shoes and some pretty slippers. Yes! Don’t look that way. If you don’t get them for yourself I’ll go and get them for you. And mind you get good ones. It doesn’t pay to buy cheap ones that aren’t right. If you don’t get good ones, I’ll make you take them back and exchange them, you know.” She laughed and twinkled at her mother, being almost merry in spite of the hurt loo
k deep in her eyes.

  “But, my dear, I cannot let things go so easily. I must understand why you are doing this. If it is for me, I must positively refuse to accept so great a sacrifice.”

  “But, Mother, I thought that was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You didn’t think I belonged there, and perhaps you’re right.”

  “Yes, I thought it must be something I had said—”

  “Now look here, little Mother; why can’t you let well enough alone? Perhaps my conscience or something has got working. Anyway, I’ve fully made up my mind.”

  “I’m afraid it is because I didn’t quite like the white dress and you feel unhappy about the green one.”

  “No, it’s not that. I love the green one, and I guess it is the most sensible thing. But perhaps the dress, or the lack of it, did help me to come to my senses and see that you were right. Anyway, something did, and we haven’t time to argue about it. The question is, can you meet me at François’s this afternoon at half past three and try on a darling little gray wool that I know you would look perfectly spiffy in?”

  “Indeed, no!” said the mother firmly. “And I’m only going to keep one of those dresses you brought up earlier. I can afford to pay for that myself. I’m not going to have you spending Aunt Carolyn’s money on me. She gave that to you to spend for something you wanted most and—”

  “Look here, Mother,” interrupted Marigold eagerly, “that’s exactly it. She said I was to spend it on what I wanted most, and this is it. I want most in life to have you dressed right. It was a revelation to me when I saw you in those dresses yesterday, and I don’t know why I haven’t seen it before. My lovely mother wearing old made-overs! I’m not going to stand it any longer. I have a good-looking mother, and I intend to keep her so. It’s time you had a few stylish things instead of putting them all on your renegade daughter’s back. No, there’s no use in the world in your talking any more about it. I’m determined. See my lips! Aren’t they nice and firm? If you think you can get out of having pretty clothes by refusing to try them on, you’re mistaken. I’ll buy them without trying on and let them hang in the closet and go to waste if they don’t fit well enough for you to wear! There! What do you think of having a bad, wild daughter like that! I’ll turn modern, so I will, and boss you around a lot!” And she caught her mother in her young arms, whirled her around, and then kissed her soundly on each cheek.

  The mother laughed and brushed a quick tear away.

  “Dear child!” she said. “It’s lovely of you to want to fix me up.”

  “Why?” demanded Marigold. “Haven’t you done the same for me all my life? I think it’s my turn now.”

  “But, darling, I’m afraid you’ll regret this—”

  “Well, I like that!” laughed the daughter. “The first unselfish impulse I ever had in my life you think I’ll regret.”

  “Oh, my dear! I didn’t mean that! You’ve always been unselfish. But I meant you’ll regret giving up your party!”

  Marigold grew sober at once.

  “I wonder, will I?” she said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I’ll be glad someday, who knows? But anyway, I’ve given it up!”

  Her mother looked at her anxiously.

  “Has Laurie done something?” she asked.

  “Oh no. I think perhaps it’s what he has not done.”

  Her mother was still a minute. “Perhaps he’s been very busy helping his mother. You know there must be a lot to do to get ready for a grand party like this, and she would need his help.”

  Marigold laughed a sharp little gurgle of amusement with a tang of bitterness mingled with the mirth. “Oh, Mother mine! Do I hear you taking up for Laurie? Making excuses for him? That is too good. The idea that he would be helping his mother is also good. I don’t believe it ever entered his handsome head to do that.”

  “Why, my dear! How could you seem to be so anxious to go around with him if you think so poorly of him as that?”

  “I don’t think poorly of him, Mother. I just know it wouldn’t be like Laurie to help his mother. It isn’t his way. They don’t do that! They have a lot of servants.”

  “But—there would be things that her own son could help in, I should think, that nobody else could do. Oh, my dear! I feel so troubled! I cannot have you give up this party that I know you counted so much on, and I know you have done it just for me.”

  “Now, look here, Mother! If I want to do it for you, haven’t I a right? You who did so much for me? And if it gives me more pleasure to get you some new dresses than to buy—well, anything that amount of money could have bought, aren’t you willing I should be pleased? And it does please me, truly! Besides, Mother, I thought it was best not to go. I really did. Now please don’t ask any more questions. Not now, anyhow. Sometime I’ll tell you all about it. I’m testing something out, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  The mother gave her a quick uneasy look, her eyes lingering, troubled, half relieved yet not wholly satisfied.

  “Can’t you trust me—a few days at least?” said Marigold wistfully.

  “Yes, I can trust you—but—?”

  “No buts, please. We haven’t time. I’m sending a telegram to Aunt Marian this morning on my way to school telling her that we will be there tomorrow night on the train that reaches Washington about ten o’clock, and we’ll take a taxi right up to the house. Now, will you be good and do what I want? Will you meet me at the shop? Bring the dress along that needed the hem taken up. She’ll pin it for us. She offered to. Will it bother you to carry it? Perhaps I’d better take it myself. I haven’t many books this morning.”

  “No, you run along. It’s getting late. I’ll bring it.”

  “And you will put away all your little worries and get ready to have a good time? Have a good time getting ready, I mean?”

  “Yes, I will,” said the mother, smiling. “You dear child! I do hope this is not going to bring sorrow and disappointment to you.”

  “No!” said Marigold, her firm little lips shutting tight in resolve. “It won’t. I’m going to have a grand time going on a spree with you. It’s a long time since we’ve gone on a trip together. I don’t seem to remember any since you took me last to the zoo, and how long ago was that?”

  “Child!”

  “It’s a fact, I don’t. So much has happened since—school and college and then work! Now, Mother, you won’t be late coming, will you? They positively told me at the library you could go exactly when you pleased. And I’ve put some money in your purse. You’re to use it all, and not to touch your own! Positively! I won’t go on any other condition! And why don’t you pay the rent now and have it out of the way? Then you won’t have that to look forward to when you get home, and we can have a real relaxed time with no worries.”

  “All right!” The mother smiled. She was beginning to catch the spirit of holiday, too.

  Well, it looked as if Mother was going to be all right. If she only didn’t get balky about the dresses down at the shop. It was going to be fun after all, going off this way with Mother, giving her a real vacation. If she just could keep herself busy enough and interested enough, perhaps she wouldn’t feel that sick thud at the bottom of her stomach whenever she remembered the party that she wasn’t going to attend. Maybe she could forget it entirely, count it a bad dream and let it go at that.

  But then, she thought, with a quick wistful catch in her breath that brought the color softly up in her cheeks, perhaps after all, Laurie would come over that evening and somehow straighten out the painful part of things and fix it so that she could go to the party and still take her mother to Washington, too. She wouldn’t let herself reason out the possibilities. She just liked to think that there was a little alleviating possibility in the vague uncertain way of the next few days.

  It might even be that Laurie would call her up at the school during the morning, after he found out that she had sent her regrets.

  So she cheered herself on her way into the day.

  And her mother, watch
ing her from the window as she did every morning, said softly to herself, “Dear child! Such an unselfish girl! But I wonder what has changed her mind? There is surely something behind all this. God must be answering my prayers for her in some way I do not understand.”

  Chapter 5

  But the day went by and there came no word from Laurie.

  Mrs. Trescott had taken good care of that.

  Her sister-in-law dropped by in the course of the morning.

  “Well, Adele, are you all ready for the grand parade?” she asked sarcastically as she threw aside her coat and helped herself to some specimens of confectionery that had been sent up for selection.

  “Mercy no!” said the harassed hostess, reaching out and choosing a luscious bit of sweet. “You can’t imagine what a lot of things can come up to make trouble. Here’s my new butler mad as a hatter because he’s got to wait on the caterer’s men tomorrow night, and threatening to leave; and Daniel Trescott saying he can’t have any peace in his own house with parties, and you know yourself, Irene, we haven’t had any besides my regular bridge afternoon in three weeks. I can’t see why your mother didn’t bring her son up better! Men are so selfish!”

  “Yes?” said Irene dryly. “I suppose you’re looking out that you don’t repeat the trouble with Laurie.”

  “Indeed I am!” said Laurie’s mother. “I told him only this morning that since I was taking all this trouble for him he ought at least to help me out a little with the guest of honor. Sometimes I wonder why I do things for other people. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been brought up to be so unselfish.” She gave a heavy sigh and took another piece of candy.