After much deliberation, she decided she would buy bonbons and toilet soap for Vickie and Rebecca, a new wool cloak for her mother, and a set of the Encyclopedia Brittanica for Blackie because she thought he would enjoy reading about animals and places he had never seen. She could not decide what to buy for her father and grandfather. They had plenty of guns, no need for a new suit. Perhaps Frank could give her an idea when he came home.
That night, Mary forgot all about gifts for the family as Frank took her to dinner at one of New York's finest restaurants. Mary felt quite elegant in a dress of pale blue striped velvet and black kid slippers. She wore her hair piled high atop her head, held in place with a pair of jeweled combs.
They had just been seated when there was a flurry of excitement near the door as people began to point and whisper. Turning in her chair, Mary saw James Buchanan Brady, better known as Diamond Jim, entering the restaurant. Jim Brady was quite a celebrity in New York City. He had driven the first horseless carriage in the city, tying up traffic for two hours. He was often seen in the company of J. P. Morgan, John "Bet a Million" Gates, James R. Keene, and Judge William H. Moore, all magnates of note in industry, business, and banking circles. Brady could frequently be seen in what had come to be called Peacock Alley at the Waldorf-Astoria. It was said that people came from all over the United States just to watch the most glamorous and notorious men and women of the time stroll by. Frank had told her that the Waldorf had been built on the corner of Fifth Avenue and Thirty-fourth Street on the site of Mrs. Astor's old mansion.
There was nothing particularly attractive about Diamond Jim Brady, Mary thought to herself as the man took a seat at a specially reserved table. He was rather portly and not especially good-looking, but he had a good deal of charm and Mary could see that he was well liked by those around him. It was said he had a two-million-dollar collection of gems, though his main interest in life was rumored to be food, and as Mary listened to him order dinner, she believed it. He ordered two dozen oysters, half a dozen crabs, a double portion of soup, and terrapin, duck, steak, and all the trimmings, including a variety of desserts.
Mary glanced at Frank, her eyes alight with wonder. Imagine, they were in the same restaurant as Diamond Jim Brady. A short time later, Lillian Russell joined Diamond Jim at his table. Her entrance caused quite a stir as men craned their necks to get a glimpse of her. It was said that Diamond Jim was sweet on the actress, and they certainly gazed adoringly at one another, Mary thought, smiling.
"You look like a little girl on Christmas morning," Frank remarked, smiling indulgently at his bride.
"I feel like one, too," Mary said happily. "Who would ever have thought we'd actually be in New York City, eating in the same restaurant with famous people."
"Stick with me, Mary Smythe," Frank said exuberantly. "And one day you'll wear diamonds and rubies, too."
"Really, Frank?"
"You can count on it. I intend to be rich and famous myself one of these days. You just wait and see."
"You don't have to be rich and famous for me," Mary said softly. "I love you just the way you are."
"You'll love me more when I've made a name for myself," Frank promised. "Wait and see."
Mary had fun in New York. She spent her days shopping and sightseeing while Frank attended to business. At night they went out on the town. They saw Lillian Russell perform, and Mary laughed heartily at the antics of the comic opera star. In truth, she thought the actress was a little short on acting ability, but her singing was wonderful. Another night they saw Bob Fitzsimmons acting in a play called The Honest Blacksmith. Fitzsimmons had once been a blacksmith and during one scene he actually clanged away on an anvil, shaping horseshoes.
On Sunday they went bicycle riding in Central Park, and there, riding a bicycle built for three, were Diamond Jim Brady, Lillian Russell, and another man who Mary later learned was Diamond Jim's cycling adviser, Dick Barton. Mary was surprised and amused when she found that Mr. Barton carried a gallon of orange juice on his back in case Diamond Jim got thirsty.
Like the other cyclists in the park, Mary could not help gawking at Diamond Jim and his companions. Imagine, a bicycle built for three! How like Brady to be different, to have something bigger and better than anyone else.
Mary and Frank spent two weeks in New York, and Mary loved every minute of it, but she was anxious to get back to her own home in Chicago, her own things.
In the days that followed, they made many friends in Chicago, for they were a young, attractive couple always ready for a good time. Some of Mary's new friends were quite wealthy, and while Frank seemed to fit right in with their new crowd, Mary often felt like a fish out of water. True, it was fun and exciting to mingle with their new friends, but Mary lacked some of the finer social graces that were inbred in the beautiful women she was now associating with.
And they were beautiful. They styled their hair in magnificent pompadours and wore crisp shirtwaists and long flowing skirts. They played golf and tennis with gusto and grace, making Mary feel clumsy and incompetent by comparison. They knew all the latest songs: "A Bicycle Built for Two," "She Is Only a Bird in a Gilded Cage," and "She Was Happy Till She Met You." The men sang songs they heard in the beer gardens, songs like "The Man on the Flying Trapeze'' and "There Is a Tavern in the Town."
Mary's new friends had never known fear or hardship, nor could they imagine it. Life was meant to be fun and they pursued it religiously.
Sometimes Mary thought back to her life in Bear Valley, and it seemed like a dream from long ago. The parties and church dances and walks in the woods all seemed so childish compared to the fancy balls and midnight dinners and trips to the theater that made up her days now. She recalled her childhood, living on the reservation with her parents, being hungry and scared, and she knew that her new companions would never understand, and for that reason she never mentioned it.
She refused to get homesick for Bear Valley. After all, she loved the city, the skyscrapers, the parks, the electric trolley cars, the churches. Chicago was the home of the 22-story Masonic Temple, the tallest building in the world. Chicago. It was noisy and exciting and there were so many things to see and do, so many interesting places to go. Yes, she loved the city. And yet there were times when she was surrounded by noise and people that she longed for the quiet beauty of Bear Valley, for the sight of vast empty prairies and snow-capped mountains, for breathtaking sunrises and the quiet song of a bird.
But she did not dwell on those things too often. Frank was handsome and charming, and she sometimes felt a twinge of jealousy when he laughed and flirted with one of their lovely new friends. Frank assured her that all the little smiles and touches meant nothing. Everyone did it. It was expected. After all, he pointed out, didn't the men in their crowd flirt with her?
Frank's reminder made Mary blush. It was true. Many of the men in their circle of acquaintances did flirt with her, complimenting her, teasing her, making outrageous proposals and promises of undying love. She had little experience with such things and usually stammered and blushed like a schoolgirl. Still, it was flattering to have nice-looking men of good breeding flirt and laugh and tease her.
She had never thought much of her looks before, but now, sitting at her dressing table as she prepared for bed, she realized she was attractive. Her hair was thick and long, a rich brown in color. Her mouth was well-shaped, her nose small and straight, her brows delicate and gently arched. Her eyes were her best feature. They were a clear gray, brimming with laughter and a zest for life.
She smiled as Frank came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Tired?" he asked.
"A little," Mary admitted. She closed her eyes as Frank began to massage the back of her neck. Gradually his hands moved to her shoulders and then around to her breasts and then, as she gave a little gasp, he picked her up and carried her to bed.
Later, Mary wondered if she would ever grow to enjoy Frank's lovemaking. She knew it was supposed to
be pleasant. On the night before her wedding, her mother and Vickie had made a few veiled references to the joys a woman could find in the arms of her husband, hinting that the act of love could be beautiful and wonderful. Mary had not found it so. Her wedding night had not been what she had hoped for. Frank had been eager to bed her, and for Mary the act had been quick and unsatisfying, even a little embarrassing. Frank had seemed pleased, however, and he made love to her frequently. Mary enjoyed the closeness of being held in Frank's arms, but she never really enjoyed the act itself. It never occurred to her that Frank might be at fault; instead, she wondered if there were something wrong with her, some flaw that kept her from finding fulfillment in her husband's embrace.
As the days passed, Mary began to be troubled without knowing why. The people around her were always laughing and happy. They seemed to have no cares, no worries other than what to wear, what to buy, or what party to attend. The women were vivacious, the men charming, and yet they all seemed to be searching for some elusive magic that would bring them true and lasting happiness.
Sometimes Mary felt that she was searching for it, too. At first she bought a new dress or something for the house whenever she felt depressed, but new things soon lost their charm and the emptiness she felt inside remained.
In time she realized that it was her marriage to Frank that was lacking. She had hoped that she and Frank would have the same kind of marriage her parents had. She wanted to experience the same feelings of love and companionship and caring that her parents felt for one another, that sense of security and strength that was always there no matter what troubles came their way.
Because she wanted her marriage to succeed, Mary made every effort to please Frank. She prepared his favorite foods, entertained his friends, laughed at his jokes, wore her hair in the style he preferred. She learned to play golf because he enjoyed the game, even though she thought it somewhat silly and a waste of time.
One of Frank's friends began paying more attention than usual to Mary. His name was Robert Hellman. He was a man in his early thirties with light brown hair, blue eyes, and a trim moustache. He was quite wealthy, having made several shrewd investments in railroad stock.
At parties Robert invariably found his way to Mary's side, insisting politely on several dances. Sometimes he took her outside for a walk through the gardens, his hand at her elbow, his eyes seeking hers.
At first Mary tried to avoid Robert, but as Frank became more and more involved in other pursuits, Mary found Robert's attention soothing to her hurt pride. Perhaps her own husband no longer found her attractive or interesting, but Robert did.
They were at a birthday party several weeks later when Robert made his intentions known. The party was for one of Frank's wealthy clients, and it was the most lavish affair Mary had ever attended. She wore a white-on-white silk gown with a square neck and long, tight-fitting sleeves. Tiny seed pearls were sewn around the neck of the dress and woven into the design on the bodice. It was the most elegant gown Mary had ever owned, and she felt like a fairy princess as they entered the Singleton mansion. But, once inside, she felt like a moth in a garden of butterflies. The gowns the other women wore were breathtaking. Fine silks and satins adorned with glittering jewels. The women wore diamonds and emeralds around their necks, on their wrists, on their fingers, in their hair. The men wore finely tailored suits with silk cravats, gaudy diamond or sapphire stick pins, solid gold watch fobs and chains.
Mary felt overwhelmed at the sight of so much wealth, and totally out of her element. At dinner she was careful not to spill anything on her gown, or on the elegant French lace tablecloth. The food was excellent: tender roast pork, tiny squab in rich sauce, thick steaks, turkey with all the trimmings, four kinds of vegetables, three kinds of potatoes, a variety of salads, rolls, and hot biscuits.
Mary ate until she was stuffed, and all the while she was conscious of Robert sitting across from her, his eyes openly adoring.
There was a lull after dinner. The men adjourned to the parlor for brandy and cigars while the women went into the solarium for sherry, or went upstairs to freshen their makeup and gossip.
At ten the orchestra began to play. Mary danced the first waltz with Frank. He was having a wonderful time, she could tell, and seemed excited about a business deal he was on the verge of signing with one of the guests.
Mary danced several dances with other men, some who were familiar to her, some who were not. And then Robert came to claim her for a dance.
"You look ravishing this evening," he said as he waltzed her around the dance floor. "Your perfume is divine, and that dress makes you look like an angel."
"Thank you," Mary murmured.
"None of the women here tonight can hold a candle to your beauty," Robert went on, his arm drawing her closer.
Mary laughed self-consciously. "Oh, Robert, how you do run on."
"But it's true!" he declared passionately. "They're all painted and powdered like porcelain dolls, but your beauty is real and comes from inside."
"Robert," Mary protested, though inwardly she was pleased. It was nice to know that someone thought she was pretty. Frank had not even mentioned her new gown or commented on how she looked. Perhaps he was disappointed in her.
When the dance was over, Robert took Mary's arm and escorted her out the side door into the garden. It was a lovely night, warm and balmy. The scent of roses permeated the air with sweet perfume as they walked down a narrow garden path lit with colorful Japanese lanterns. Mary paused to admire a bush that was thick with dark red flowers.
"Aren't they lovely?" she mused. "They look like red velvet."
"Your beauty makes them look like weeds," Robert vowed, and pulling Mary into his arms, he kissed her deeply, passionately. She was so beautiful, so desirable, and she was wasted on that husband of hers. He had wanted to declare his feelings for her before, but he had cautioned himself to be patient. She was young and inexperienced. He did not want to frighten her.
Shocked, Mary twisted out of Robert's arms, her cheeks flaming with righteous indignation. "Robert! What's gotten into you?"
"I'm sorry, Mary," he said contritely. "Please forgive me."
"Very well," Mary replied, flustered. "Please don't let it happen again."
"I love you, Mary," Robert said fervently. "I know you aren't happy with Frank. I've seen the way you look at him, and I know how he's hurting you, how often he leaves you alone."
Mary did not deny it. What was the point in lying? Everyone knew that Frank had a wandering eye, and though Mary was certain that Frank had never been physically unfaithful to her, it hurt to know he was looking at other women and finding them attractive.
"Leave him, Mary," Robert said. "Come away with me. I'll make you happy, I swear it."
"Robert, please don't say anymore. I'm a married woman and I love my husband. You should not be saying these things, and I should not be listening."
"Do you?" Robert asked in disbelief. "Do you really love him?"
"Yes." She spoke the word with assurance, yet deep inside she wondered if it were still true.
"Are you certain, Mary? I'm a wealthy man. I can give you anything you want, anything you need. I know we could be happy together if you'll give us a chance."
Mary shook her head. She was touched by Robert's declaration and she was fond of him, but she was a married woman. She had promised to be faithful to her husband. It was not an oath she had taken lightly.
"I'm sorry, Robert. You've been a good friend, but I don't think we should see each other any more. Good night."
Mary tried doubly hard to make her marriage work after that. She danced less with other men, she tried to be cheerful and understanding when Frank came home after a hard day at the office, she endeavored to persuade Frank to stay home more often, but all was in vain. Frank didn't want to stay home. He liked going out, liked being seen with important people. It was good for business, he said.
As the days passed, it became harder and harder to smile
and pretend that everything was fine when it wasn't. When her two best friends, Christy and Stacey, came to call, it was hard to chat about the latest fashions and coiffures from Paris, or the new play at the theater, when her heart was breaking. Indeed, it seemed as if all the joy had gone out of life. Like champagne that had been left out too long, Mary felt dull and lifeless. She missed Robert. She had thought of him as a good friend, nothing more, and his vow of love had been unexpected and disturbing, putting an end to their friendship.
They had been married only five months when Mary began to suspect she was pregnant. Frank was disappointed when she told him the news. He liked going out every night, liked being carefree, able to run off to a party on a moment's notice. A baby would tie them down.
Mary was hurt by Frank's lack of enthusiasm. She was looking forward to having a baby. Indeed, she longed to have several.
As her pregnancy grew more advanced, she and Frank began to quarrel. He wanted to go out on the town and have a good time, but Mary was too self-conscious about her expanding girth. Most women did not go out much when they were expecting, preferring to remain closeted at home until the baby was born.
When Frank started going out alone, Mary felt as though she had been discarded and abandoned. It was his child she was carrying, after all. Why couldn't he stay home and keep her company?
She cried many bitter tears in the days ahead. She was lonely and unhappy and she began to wish they had never left Bear Valley. They had been happy there. Perhaps if they had not come to Chicago they would be happy still. Frank had changed since coming here. He was so caught up in the glamour and excitement of their new friends that he had little time for a pregnant wife who could not go out dancing all night long.
Reckless Desire Page 10
