“Was Vivienne a natural at this?” I asked. He didn’t answer me.
“Did she like to sit for hours on end as you waved your pencil around the canvas like a magic wand?” I teased in a jealous manner.
“She didn’t mind,” Richard finally replied, not looking up from the easel.
“I’ll bet she hated it. You know it’s not fun to sit still for so long. And you don’t even talk!” I pouted like a little girl.
“There. I’m finished. Now I want to take this over to Mr. Hudson. He is expecting us.”
Richard gathered his large leather case, packed up, and we hurried uptown. Mr. Hudson was impatiently waiting to see Richard’s work and to meet me in person. He rushed us into his cluttered office and took hold of Richard’s sketch. With focused eyes peering through the small spectacles that sat on the very tip of his elongated, bumpy nose, he scanned the portrait, rubbing his wide chin with his chubby fingertips. Mr. Hudson was a short older man, well into his sixties, with a full head of thick silver hair unlike most I had seen before. His rounded forehead had dozens and dozens of lines and creases above two unmatched eyebrows that were black as coal.
I glanced toward Richard, looking to see his air of anticipation, which was open and full of apprehension. His breathing had almost stopped, and his jaw was clenched so tight I was certain it would shatter. Minutes passed like hours as Mr. Hudson studied Richard’s work. It was as if Richard’s entire career was riding on this one sketch.
Finally, Mr. Hudson smiled . . . a broad, elated smile, which allowed Richard to finally exhale and take a long needed breath.
“THIS is what I have waited to see!” he exclaimed. “You have finally delivered, Richard. This is good . . . very good.”
From his large, solid wood desk, he opened a drawer and pulled out what appeared to be an expensive bottle of champagne. “A drink, to celebrate the years and years of waiting for Mr. Parker to bring me the beauty that can take this dusty old magazine to new heights!”
He handed Richard and me glasses filled to the brim with bubbly champagne. Richard was beaming with pride. The man he had worked for over the years had finally recognized his talent as an artist. Why Mr. Hudson hadn’t admired Richard’s prior work bemused me. I thought all of Richard’s work was exquisite, especially the sketches of Vivienne. I wondered if he had shown her portrait to Mr. Hudson. I believed she would have been Richard’s ticket to becoming a prominent illustrator. Perhaps it was her premature death that had stopped the process in its tracks before the sketch ever made it to the magazine. I wanted to know more, but the facts would have to wait. Richard wanted to celebrate.
We headed to the harbor section of the city where he took me to a fancy seafood restaurant that served all of my favorite dishes. Then, after our fine meal, we strolled to the fish market. All the while, Richard chatted non-stop about how long he had been waiting for the day, the one day, when his boss’s eyes would light up and finally see the artist he truly was. “I have worked five long years at the magazine. And finally John has seen it!” he said in an uplifted voice. “I truly never thought this day would come. He is going to use my art, your face, for the cover!”
“I am happy for you, Richard,” I said. And I was. It was more fulfilling to see his happiness than to imagine any success I might achieve.
Richard reached for my hand and squeezed it tight. We were in the park surrounding Castle Garden. It was late in the day, and the air was still hot and humid. Sweet fragrances flowed through the enormous park and lingered all around. The bustling, dirty, stifling streets of New York City were redolent with the delightful, flowery scent. We sat on a bench, side by side. Richard stared up at the sky at the clouds, as if he were seeing the world for the first time. Maybe he was.
“This, my newfound success, is all thanks to you,” he said as he turned to me. His expression was serious. He must have needed me to know how grateful he was. “If you hadn’t agreed to come with me to New York, I would still be a second-rate illustrator. I always knew I was better . . . I did. Since I was a young child, I have been drawing, although my parents highly discouraged it. In fact, my father used to punish me severely. He locked me in the sod house, sometimes for a day or two with no water. He told me I was good for nothing, a worthless son who wouldn’t amount to anything. If I wasn’t going to be a farmer like my oldest brother Todd, then he wanted nothing to do with me. I had to hide my work until I was old enough to run away. I ended up in France, thank heaven, where my talent truly blossomed. France is where I met Judith Van Dorn. But without the acknowledgement of Judith and of my peers . . .” I stopped him with a spontaneous hug. I was the one who was grateful; I was the girl who had found her way to a dream I thought would never come true. All the days and months, locked away, brutally tortured, and left for dead . . . I could never have guessed there would come a day when I would be set free. Not even Warren’s endless promises had me truly believing I would someday return home. It was Richard who was making it all possible for me. It was Richard who saved me from a certain terrible future, one in which I was never going to see Jasper Island again. I was filled with gratitude and appreciation, and a part of me felt he had been sent to find me, to be the father I had so longed for. Affection and compassion seemed such a distant memory, and it was hard . . . so hard to remember what it was like to have Momma and Daddy near to me. Though Garrett Arrington wasn’t my real father, he raised me just as any father would, and as much as I wanted to hate such a man for deceiving me all my life and to loathe him for leaving me with my hateful grandmother, I just couldn’t help but miss him with such an ache in my heart, I often thought it might shatter one day.
Richard was taken aback by my sudden affectionate gesture. He had no idea how much I needed the love and guidance of a parent, how I craved for someone to hold me. I missed Daddy’s way of comforting me when I was feeling bleak. I innocently saw the possibilities in Richard, or at least I wanted very much to.
“Tomorrow, I would like to take you to a new play Bart has created,” Richard said in a low, husky voice.
“That sounds wonderful,” I replied, not lifting my head from his shoulder. Though he seemed unusually stiff and awkward, he didn’t ask me to move. We listened to the trees sway in the gentle breeze and the birds chirp on the branches above. The moment took me back to days when I was a very young girl and Daddy would sit with me out on the rocks that surrounded the remote lighthouse station where I was born. That was our alone time. We didn’t have to talk; it was enough just to know he was there.
This new moment was one I hadn’t expected, but had needed for so long. The world seemed to stop, almost disappear, as my heart lifted just a little and let in some much needed peace. I wasn’t dwelling on the past or worrying about my future. I simply lived in the moment.
Back at the mansion, Richard excused himself, saying the burden of years of waiting, and anticipating this day had left him exhausted. He went off to bed and left me to do the same. But again I lay in bed, wide-awake, and couldn’t stop thinking of Richard. His beaming smile lingered in my mind; his joy still radiated through my bones. It had been what seemed an eternity since someone around me was happy, and I became happy, too.
I wore one of Rachael’s like-new dresses to the play. Richard showed me off to his gentleman friends once again, but this time there was obvious pride in his gait, his posture, and even in his voice. “Lillian has been selected to grace the cover of my magazine,” he chanted, and patted my gloved hand that dangled through his arm.
“And you, Richard, can’t be the assigned illustrator,” they all joked. Even Bart Wilco laughed. No one seemed to take Richard seriously - not his wife, not his friends. It angered me the way these “friends” set out to stomp all over his newfound success. It pained me to see him wince at their insinuations, especially after all I knew about his suffering as a boy and how his own parents didn’t appreciate his remarkable talent as an artist.
“He certainly is!” I chimed in. Even Richa
rd was surprised at my flare-up. They continued to laugh as the audience took their seats in anticipation of the performance.
“Lillian, when I am speaking to the aristocrats of New York, Boston, and Rhode Island, please keep silent,” he flatly whispered into me ear, then sat back against the velvet-upholstered seat, fixing his stare straight ahead.
I was unhappy with his blunt request and sank down and folded my arms up over my bosom. It was apparent I was good enough to look at, but was not meant to speak or become involved with business or politics. Daddy had always treated Momma as an equal, and she was. Momma was smart and sharp-witted, and men liked listening to her, especially Daddy.
Richard enjoyed the play, though I didn’t. When he asked me what I thought, I agreed with everything he said.
“Bart has asked us back to his apartment. He has a proposal for me that I am very interested in hearing.”
Richard kept me by his side the entire time, uninterested in joining his two floozy girlfriends in a private room.
“Come on now, relax and have some fun,” Wanda teased with whispers in his ear.
“Not now, Wanda.”
Richard was fixated on talking with Bart, and when the opportunity came, he released my arm, pulled Mr. Wilco aside, handed him a cigar, and the two of them made their way to Mr. Wilco’s private office.
Ned Griffin was at the party once again, and I noticed him gazing my way as I stood in a far corner, sipping on a drink. I recalled when Richard had told me he didn’t like Ned Griffin, so I made certain to stay clear of him.
I moved from one corner of the room to the next, only giving a shy hello to the few people Richard had previously introduced to me. Ned appeared to be talking, though his eyes traveled with my every move until he suddenly excused himself from the small group of men that surrounded him, and strode my way. Panic filled me; I did not want any part of conversing with a man, let alone a man I knew Richard didn’t trust. So I quickly turned my back and pretended not to notice him coming my way, and prayed I would blend in with the wallpaper, but to no avail.
“Hello, Lillian. So nice to see you again,” he greeted with a pleasant smile. I extended my hand in proper etiquette and allowed him to place a quick kiss.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Griffin,” I lied.
He stood close and overbearing; I could feel his breath causing the wispy strands of my hair to tickle my neck.
“The word around the city is that Richard finally got his foot in the door.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied again. Ned made me nervous; I didn’t like him so near to me. My pulse quickened with fear, and I began to feel woozy. Luckily, Richard stopped the encounter before I lost control and called for him.
“Mind your business, Ned.” Richard scowled a nasty glare and led me away.
“Why is she exclusively your business?” he flared back, causing everyone in the room to turn and stare. What was it about Richard Parker that sent a room silent? I wondered.
“Everyone, please excuse Mr. Griffin. I believe he has had too much to drink,” Richard boldly called out, and then announced we were leaving.
“I’ve got what I came for,” Richard mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.
“What was the meeting with Mr. Wilco about?” I asked as soon as Richard threw his hat off and had a drink. He had hired another aged English butler named Randolph, who nearly flew across the room to fetch the hat and place it on the tree-shaped wooden rack in the foyer.
“It’s all coming together quicker than I could have anticipated,” he said after sitting down and lighting up another cigar. “Pour yourself a drink and let’s talk.”
“I don’t feel much like drinking.”
“Fine then. I hope the news I give you will put a smile on your beautiful face.”
“What is it, Richard, that should delight me so?” I asked, wondering what great thing he had planned for me next. I could see the enchantment in his eyes, I could feel his anticipation over the venture I was about to embark upon. Richard was on an obvious mission, and one that wouldn’t simply expose my face on the cover of his magazine. Richard was driven to make my success his number one priority.
“You’re fortunate, Lillian, truly fortunate. Bart has made a part in the show especially for you. It is only a small part for now, however, just to see how well you do. If you are everything I promised, you will soon take the lead role, and no doubt take Manhattan.”
My heart sank. He was making all kinds of deals without asking me first. Though the idea of being a model excited me, it was only because the money would lead me home. A few successful covers and I would be certain to have the means to travel back to Jasper Island. Now Richard was filling up my world with so many expectations and long-term commitments. How long did I have to stay before the law came looking for me? Was he holding back, not telling me the truth about how much jeopardy I was truly in? I wondered. I needed desperately to know, and I needed Richard to know I wasn’t going to agree to be in Bart Wilco’s burlesque act.
“Absolutely not. How dare you suggest such a thing?” I was insulted he thought I was the kind of girl in the show that he flirted with, took into back rooms, and did things in private that made me feel sick to my stomach just thinking about.
“This is an opportunity of a lifetime for you. You can’t say no,” he said, leaping to his feet and making me turn and look at him. I was holding back the tears that stung behind my eyes. Every day something happened to take away my chance of returning to the lighthouse.
“I will not do it.”
Richard spun me around and insisted I listen to him. “It isn’t what you think. Wealthy men and women come from all over to see Bart’s show. You want to be famous. I know you do; I see it in your eyes.”
“No, I don’t!” I flared. “You don’t know such a thing!”
Richard released his grip from my arms and then stared deeply into my tear-filled eyes. I wanted so much for him to take me in his arms and tell me he would take care of me with Judith’s money and not expose me to the world. I didn’t want to sacrifice my dignity for fame or fortune. Not when he could simply give me the money. I didn’t have the courage to ask him, however; I didn’t feel I had any right.
With my head bowed, I watched as my tears dropped, one by one, onto the polished wood floor.
“Didn’t I promise to take care of you?” he asked in a whisper, softly into my ear. “I know this is the right thing for you. I will be by your side; I will hold your hand. This is a part of your journey, Lillian.”
“How?” I sniveled.
Finally, he brought me into his warm embrace and hushed me as I had been longing for. My arms clung around his waist then up onto his back as my tears quickly became heavy sobs. “I just want to go home.”
“Dear, dear child, if it were only that simple. There are things I should tell you, so you know I am purely looking out for you welfare.” He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and tenderly wiped my wet cheeks and running nose. Then he sighed heavily and said, “I think you finally need to know the whole truth.”
Richard sat me down, gave me a glass of brandy, and insisted I take a swift drink to calm me down. My eyes remained fixed on him as he paced the floor, apparently contemplating how to divulge the details of a secret he had been keeping from me for some time.
“There is a piece of information I didn’t think you should know . . . well, up until now. I know how you long to return to your beloved island; I see the pain in your eyes from the years spent away. There is no doubt you have been through a terrible ordeal, and I certainly believe you were merely an innocent victim. But as I have told you previously, the law might just see what happened to Mr. Stone differently than you and I. I have done my best to keep you safe and out of jail. You believe that don’t you?”
I nodded in agreement. I knew how much he had done for me. Did he need me to say it aloud?
“What you don’t know is that the law knows exactly where you
are.”
The liquid that was midway down my throat instantly hurled up, causing me to choke and spit as Richard’s revelation panicked me. He came and tapped me on the back, then lifted my chin and made me see the reflection of my own predicament in his eyes.
“I don’t understand,” I cried once I caught my breath. “If they know . . .”
“I have paid the constable more money than he could possibly see in a lifetime to keep his silence. I paid dearly for his promise to see to it that you are never discovered . . . ever. Judith gives me a yearly allowance,” he laughed with cynicism. “Ridiculous as that may seem, it is true. I used it all to free you, Lillian Arrington, from, at the very least, a life rotting away in jail.”
My mind was spinning! They knew all along where I was and could have arrested me. But Richard had made some kind of illegal bargain to keep me out of prison, or possibly from being hanged. Now I was forever in debt to him. I had to be in the show.
He came and knelt down beside me and took my hands in his, and with pleading eyes, implored me to be happy. “We can take this journey together, you and I. Please don’t cry. I wanted to do it, and I don’t regret sacrificing so much money for your freedom. It will all work out; I know you will be happy,” Richard said, as he once again wiped the tears from my face. When he finished, he placed his warm lips on my cheek and allowed them to linger long enough to cause my heart skip a beat. I closed my eyes and wished myself away, wished I were a little girl again, climbing the slippery rocks on the first lighthouse station I had ever known. I wished Momma and Daddy were here, comforting and loving me, protecting me from all the frightening scenarios the world always seemed to have in store for me.
* * *
Chapter Six
Will it be enough?
Scornful eyes, nasty scowls I received back in the dressing room from the girls in the show. Even Wanda and Phoebe whispered secrets about me, I later learned, and accused me of becoming Richard’s new lover.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 63
