Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy

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Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 64

by Roxane Tepfer Sanford


  Night after night I performed on stage, and though I didn’t believe for one second that I was any good, Richard beamed with pride as he sat in the audience. Mr. Wilco was pleased, and my participation in the show brought standing ovations.

  It came easily to me, learning my lines and memorizing the little songs I had to sing, and the dance numbers became second nature. The seductive costumes I at first could not imagine myself wearing became ordinary. Before long, I received the leading role, and night after night I played my part, but I couldn’t wait to get back to the house and collapse into bed. The hours were exhausting; my feet hurt and my vocal cords were sore, but Richard exclaimed that I was amazing, that my voice was angelic, and that I was a natural actor. In addition to the musical with its long nights, he would ask me to pose for him. “Let me do a nude. For me,” he pleaded.

  Although I was becoming more comfortable with my voluptuous body, and although I began to appreciate the whistles and gawking men in the audience, I never wanted anyone to see me unclothed. I always came to the theater dressed in costume, whereas the other girls dressed and undressed out in the open. And if I had a costume change, I went into the tiny bathroom, which was no bigger than a broom closet. And because I seemed so strange and different, the girls shied away from me even more. I wondered if anyone would ever like me, other than Richard and the men who frequently asked to come backstage to meet me.

  One man who made a regular appearance was Ned Griffin. When Richard was off talking with other aristocrats - most likely inviting them to the estate up on the Hudson River where summertime parties lingered well into fall - Ned would steal in with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and tell me how lovely and magnificent and funny I was. Flattery was a part of every night; some men even left me marriage proposals. I thought nothing of it. Dancing, singing, and saying my lines was only a job. I had a debt to pay back, and as soon as I did, I would no longer be a part of any show or in any theater . . . ever.

  Ned seemed to be interested in how I was, how I felt, and if I was happy working for Mr. Wilco.

  “I don’t believe Richard would want me talking to you, Mr. Griffin,” I snapped, not meeting his dark eyes.

  “This is the tenth time I have brought you flowers, and every time you refuse to take them. What is it about me you dislike so?” he asked with a sly smile.

  “Every day men bring me flowers, and they mean nothing to me,” I said flatly. I loathed men’s desires, their perpetual need to see voluptuous women sing and dance, even though it was where the hundreds and hundreds of dollars came from that went directly into Mr. Wilco’s deep pockets.

  By late fall, when we arrived at the river estate for the last fling of the year, I pulled Richard aside and asked him if I had worked hard enough, if I had paid down my debts, and if I could I finally go. Guests strolled leisurely down every corridor of the mansion, and it was only in Richard’s suite that I managed to have a private moment with him. Judith was by his side nearly every moment of the weekend. Finally, she went off with her sisters for a late morning ride, and I took the opportunity to approach Richard.

  All the while, as the months had passed, I had dutifully done as Richard had asked. I performed to the best of my ability, I danced with grace, I sang the silly melodies with an angelic voice, and now it was time for my reward. Although our relationship centered on the theater, though we lived under the same roof, dined together, and drank together at fancy parties, Richard didn’t want or need anything more than to be my slave driver. He didn’t care to know how I felt about my situation or the quandary I was in. Perhaps he thought I was as happy as he was, and that what he had promised had been fulfilled. Money and fame, he swore, would set me free. Nevertheless, it had only worn me down and left me exhausted and even needier. I hated the strange wealthy men pining for my affections, the other actors despising me. I’d had enough.

  “What is it, Lillian, that you needed to pull me away from our friends to talk?” he barked.

  “Our friends? They are not my friends down there; they are your friends, and Judith’s and her sisters’,” I flared.

  “What on earth are you so angry at me for?”

  Richard and I were beginning to bicker occasionally, usually when I was grumpy and tired and sick of him pestering me for a nude portrait, or when he talked on and on about the show. Richard was nothing like the loving father I needed, unlike the brother I sometimes wished for, and nowhere near to a lover. There was much about him that I was beginning to resent

  I gazed out the windows that overlooked the front lawn. The day was cool and brisk, and the women wore fashionable riding attire that enhanced their dignity. When I didn’t answer him right away, he repeated the question; however, his tone had eased some.

  “How long have I been with you?” I asked meekly.

  “You know just as well as I, Lillian, how long you have been with us.”

  My back was turned toward him, for I didn’t want him to see my tears once again.

  “Don’t you feel I have earned my way? Haven’t I worked hard for you?”

  “Yes, yes, you work hard. You are amazing. You are the most beloved actor. You have done well.”

  I whirled about, gripped his arms, and could no longer contain my pleas. “I want go home now, before winter. It has been so long! Haven’t I repaid my debts to you with all my hard work?” I cried.

  My desperate appeal took him by surprise; he grimaced at my suggestion. “So you aren’t happy? The fame, the adoration means nothing at all to you? I mean nothing to you?” He looked away from me. Richard was clearly upset, and his sophisticated charm faded into the demeanor of a sad boy. Maybe he felt rejected; perhaps he believed I was ungrateful. But I was grateful!

  “You mean a great deal to me, Richard. You have saved me from an unfortunate future. But, how long do I have to repay you?”

  With a heavy sigh, he stepped back, then looked me sternly in the eye. “The portrait. One nude portrait to add to my collection and I will release you of all financial obligations to me. You will be free to make your journey home, if indeed there is anyone who loves you waiting there,” he said flatly. I was stunned and hurt at the suggestion that no one would be waiting for my return.

  Despite the fact that it had been over four years, surely Ayden and Heath would have missed me, thought of me over the years that I had mysteriously been missing. Maybe they weren’t on Jasper Island any longer. I was almost certain Heath had become a doctor by now and Ayden a lighthouse keeper, possibly even the keeper of Jasper Island. Could they have forgotten about me, after all? Was Richard aware of the things I had continuously wondered about?

  He saw my tears, he sensed my deep pain, but he turned around and left me standing in the center of the room, alone. I could have been in a theater full of people, yet I was always alone.

  Some of the other guests were lingering about, nibbling on delicate sandwiches, and drinking champagne. Judith again placed herself against Richard’s side and wasn’t aware of the hurtful looks he periodically threw me from across the room. Rachael was talking to me, telling me something about her cousin Sarah (who sounded much like Clara from school - the girl Heath was once madly in love with) and the man she had recently met and hoped to marry, but I wasn’t really listening. I was too overwhelmed with my plight, my indecision, and my own unhappiness. Richard needed me for only a short time longer. One more portrait and I was free to go. But what he asked terrified me. How could I undress in front of any man again after what had happened to me? And though Richard claimed a woman’s nudity didn’t affect him as it did most men, I still worried. If I was before him nude, he would see the scars on my back, the ones that had forever branded me, inflicted by the sinister grandmother who cursed my very existence.

  Guests began to gather for drinks and small talk in the library. Most were regulars, wealthy friends of the Van Dorns, who had now come to adore me. Not me as a person, but as the popular magazine model, or as the well-known actor. None of them mat
tered to me, and I rarely had a word to say to them. However, I was always polite and gracious, as Daddy had taught me. Even the sisters, Rachael, Judith, and Anna, along with her lady friend Thea, were overly affable since my newly acquired fame. I appreciated their generosity - the invitations to go riding and play lawn games. It was what I had hoped for when I’d first arrived with Richard many months before. But now it didn’t hold the value I once thought it would.

  To my surprise, Judith came to accept me and treated me as well as any guest that entered the Van Dorn world. I was doted on, admired, and well liked. By all but Richard.

  For the next few days we spent at the estate, Richard ignored me. During formal dinners, when we sat out on the terrace on chilly autumn evenings and partied all night with the young, energetic guests, he stayed far from me. And when I eased near to him, he shunned me, moved away, then gave his attention to his wife, who beamed with happiness from all the extra interest her handsome husband graced upon her.

  I sulked, pouted, and when I went to bed alone, bawled like a little girl. On our trip home, he read the paper. He sat right beside me in the coach and refused to acknowledge my presence. We were at a stalemate. I couldn’t leave until I sat nude for him to sketch me and add my image to his collection. He wouldn’t be happy until I agreed.

  Back at the theater, I was notified the show would be on tour for the winter months.

  “Richard knows of this?” I asked Mr. Wilco.

  “Does he know? Of course. He is traveling with us.”

  That night, I came home to learn that Judith had returned to the city for the winter months. She was seated next to Richard in the parlor talking when I came in. I didn’t waste a moment to ask him about the tour. “We are leaving by the end of the week. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Judith was taken aback by my outburst. She excused herself from the room after Richard gave her a warm goodnight kiss.

  “Lillian dear, do you have to over dramatize everything? It is customary for a show to go on tour.”

  “Do you always go, too?” I snapped. I was frustrated with his antics. He reminded me of Warren - which upset me terribly.

  “This will be my first time. I need to watch over you. Though you have disappointed me, I still want to make certain you are well cared for. So I have decided it is in your best interest that I go with the stock company.”

  “I’m not a baby. I don’t need you or want you coming!”

  He gazed despondently over to where I stood with my arms crossed over my chest, then said in a low voice, “You are acting like a baby.”

  I stormed off, refusing Randolph’s offer of dinner as I rushed past him and ran up to my room. I flung my belongings across the room, throwing shoes and dresses into a disorderly pile and into a suitcase. When I was finished, I opened my window for fresh air, only to see Richard briskly walking down the street, going, most likely, to visit one of the pretty girls from the show. His latest conquest was Tilly, a young girl who had caught Richard’s eye on her first night in the play.

  I stood looking down at the man who strolled with self-assurance along the street and wondered how he had come to put me in such a dilemma, both physically and emotionally. When I agreed to come with him to New York, I had expected it to be temporary. One sitting, one sketch - that was all. I was going to earn enough money to get myself home. I’d never expected to be imprisoned again, even if it was by a man I had grown to love and trust, for he was all that I had. There was no other man that I wanted. It sometimes felt as if I truly did owe myself to Richard Parker. I wasn’t sure.

  The trip down south was grueling, the conditions less than comfortable. Although Richard made certain I had my own room in the hotels, next to his, my quarters were cramped, and the theaters were nowhere near as elaborate as the one in Manhattan. The dressing rooms were hot and stuffy, causing our makeup to run and require re-application. We sweated, our feet swelled, and I believe all of us were miserable. Nevertheless, the perpetual complaints went unheard. Mr. Wilco was elated with all the money his show was bringing in. With each city, he grew fatter and greedier and demanded more of us. Richard saw it. He was aware of how exhausted I was, how I had nearly collapsed at curtain call, and still he said nothing. When he wasn’t in the audience, he was back at the hotel room sketching. Late in the evenings I lay in bed, hot and sweltering in the small room, and thought about him. I knew he was next door, right on the other side of the wall. All I needed to do was go to him and agree to his request. Then he would like me again, and then I would be free to go. But was he right? I wondered. Was no one waiting for me back on Jasper Island? Would Richard accept me back then?

  I tossed and turned every evening, in every city, week after week. I watched as Richard and Tilly become closer. I was jealous of their relationship, I envied the way he was smitten with her, and I hated the way he continued to ignored me.

  Our sixth stop on the tour was Savannah. When I heard, my stomach knotted up and I locked myself in my room, not even willing to go to rehearsal. Richard came to my room and demanded I let him in. I had been crying for hours, and I looked terrible.

  “Go away!” I shouted.

  “Lillian, open the door.”

  “No!”

  “I will bang it down if you don’t!”

  Reluctantly, I did as he insisted, but kept my back turned toward him.

  “We will only be in Savannah for two nights. Rachael will be there. I know this is hard for you, but the show must go on.”

  For the first time in so long, he seemed genuinely concerned about me.

  “I can’t do it. So many bad memories…” I sobbed.

  “If you don’t, Tilly will take your place. She is your understudy, after all,” he boldly reminded me. My heart skipped a beat. Tilly was already taking enough from me - she had Richard’s undivided attention. I couldn’t let her have my role, not even for two nights.

  I wiped my tears with the back of my hand, and without turning around, I said flatly, “All right, I will do the show.”

  There was a long silence between us and for a moment. I thought he was going to turn me around to face him and say he would never ignore me again, that he was sorry and I meant more to him than Tilly. I desperately needed to hear that. But instead, he walked out without saying another word. I hated myself for holding out on Richard, not giving in. So, with my pride swallowed, I followed Richard, desperate to win back his approval. “All right, you win,” I said, just before he closed the door to his room.

  He was skeptical at first; his suspicious eyes stared me down until I repeated what I’d said, and took hold of his hand. “You win, Richard.”

  At last, I saw him smile with pleasure, delight, and glee at his triumph. He was getting everything he wanted, and at least I still had him.

  He hugged me tightly and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thank you for agreeing. I am sorry for being so harsh on you; I truly am,” he whispered. I was relieved in one sense and full of dread the next. I had agreed to undress and expose all of myself to him.

  “When we return home at the end of the tour, when I can have you in my studio. That’s where I do my best work.”

  I slept better that night knowing that Richard no longer hated me. For the first time, I didn’t have dreams of the ocean and the sand in between my toes. I didn’t dream of being a little girl on a lighthouse station anymore. It was Richard who filled my dreams. We were intimate and he loved me as he had loved Tilly. I became his secret lover, and when I woke in the morning, I was ready to put my wishes and dreams aside, exclusively for the happiness of one man.

  The day we made our journey from Atlanta to Savannah, I was sick with fear. Richard sat with me, held my hand, and told me everything was going to be wonderful. Mr. Wilco and Wanda sat in the coach with us and couldn’t understand my sudden bout of “stage fright.” Because we had to keep the secrets of my past hidden, they were left to believe stage fright had taken over. When we arrived in Savannah, a doctor was going to g
ive me something for my anxiety. Mr. Wilco was less than pleased and pulled Richard aside when we arrived at the theater for the day’s rehearsal.

  “I promise you she will be fine. Tilly does not have to stand in for her,” I overheard him say.

  Since I had given into Richard’s wishes, he no longer gave Tilly his attention or took her to bed, and she was angry with him. She flared up when we were about to rehearse. “Don’t you come knocking on my hotel room late at night, Richard!” she bellowed for all to hear. “I’m not a whore, you know. I don’t care what you think - I’m not!”

  Richard’s face turned flushed. He was embarrassed, but ignored her crude outburst, and never slept with her again.

  After spending half the day at the theater, we took a carriage to Sterling and Rachael’s home where we were invited to spend the next few days. They had purchased an old plantation home, on the opposite side of the city, where Sutton Hall had once reigned supreme, which they were in the process of repairing.

  When we came upon the former plantation, I felt queasy and rested my head against Richard’s shoulder. He patted my knee and reached to kiss my trembling hand. “You’re safe here, Lillian, truly.”

  Rachael came to greet me with open arms. She was as radiant as ever, and not only because she was four months into carrying Sterling’s child.

  “Dear sister-in-law, how beautiful you look today,” Richard greeted.

  “Why, thank you, dear brother-in-law, for the compliment,” she murmured, her face flushed from his compliment.

  “How was your trip?” Sterling asked as he tipped his hat to me.

  “Awful,” I replied flatly.

  “The road is hard on us all,” Richard chimed in as Rachael led us inside.

  “Mint juleps, anyone?” she inquired. We agreed.

  Their home was a modest plantation, only consisting of five bedrooms, a parlor, a library, and a barely usable kitchen. The slave quarters had already been demolished. The stables were in disrepair.

 

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