All That Glitters l-3

by V. C. Andrews

  Despite my fears of it happening, I didn't get lost traveling the streets of New Orleans. When I pulled into the circular drive and saw Daddy's old Rolls-Royce parked by the garage, I gazed at the front door and hesitated. It had been years and years since I had entered this house. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. The new butler came to the door quickly. When he set his eyes on me, he blinked rapidly with confusion at first.

  "Oh," he said. "You must be Mademoiselle's twin sister."

  "That's right. I'm Ruby."

  "My name is Stevens, madame," he said with a slight nod. "I'm sorry for your trouble."

  "Thank you, Stevens."

  "May I bring in your things?" he offered.

  "Thank you," I said. I had expected to see many cars in the driveway when I pulled in and dozens of Daphne's friends gathered to console Gisselle and Bruce, but the house was quiet, empty. "Where is my sister?"

  "Mademoiselle is upstairs in her suite," he said, stepping back. I entered the great foyer, and for a moment it was as if I had never left, as if all that had happened since had been a dream. I almost expected to see Daphne come out of the office to smirk a greeting at me and question what I was wearing or where I had been. But there was nothing but silence. All of the lights were either low or unlit. The chandeliers hung like drops of ice. The grand stairway was draped in shadows as if Death itself had traipsed through the house and left his tracks over the carpets and floors.

  "I'll be staying in the room adjoining my sister's, Stevens," I told the butler.

  "Very good, madame." He hurried out to get my suitcase and I started up the stairs. Before I reached the landing, I heard a peal of laughter coming from Gisselle's open doorway. She was on the telephone. When she turned and saw me standing there, her smile quickly faded and she immediately took on the dark look of a bereaved daughter.

  "I can't talk anymore, Pauline. My sister has just arrived and we have to discuss all the funeral arrangements and things. Yes, it's just horrible," she said with a deep sigh. "Thank you for being so understanding. Good-bye." She cradled the receiver slowly and then rose to greet me. "I'm so glad you've come, Ruby," she said, and embraced me, kissing both my cheeks. "It's been terrible, a horrible emotional drain. I don't know what's keeping me standing."

  "Hello, Gisselle," I said dryly, and gazed around the room. Her clothes were strewn about and there was a tray of empty dishes from breakfast on a nightstand with an opened movie fan magazine beside it.

  "I haven't been able to see anyone or do anything," she immediately complained. "It's all fallen on my head."

  "What about Bruce?" I inquired.

  "Bruce?" She threw her head back with a thin laugh. "What a wet noodle he turned out to be. And don't I know why, too?" she said, her eyes mean and piercing. "He's lost his meal ticket. All he's been doing is going over legal papers, hoping to find a loophole, but I told him in no uncertain terms to forget it."

  "But he was her husband."

  "I told you before. In name only, and only as a servant. Daphne locked him out of everything. He's going out of here with little more than he came in with. We'll see to that. Beau has spoken with our attorneys and—"

  "Beau?"

  "Yes, Beau. He's been the only thing keeping me going. He's been an absolute superman. Right from the start. You don't know how horrible it was. You weren't there," she snapped as though it were my fault I wasn't. "She and Bruce went riding and her horse bucked and threw her. Bruce came running back to the house screaming. Beau and I were still in bed," she inserted with a wry smile. "We both heard Bruce shouting and threw on some clothes. We found her sprawled on the ground, a nasty bruise on her temple. Beau, who's had some medical training, told Bruce not to move her, but to send for an ambulance. He checked her eyes and took her pulse and looked up at me and shook his head. 'It looks bad,' he told me.

  "I went back to the house to dress in some warmer clothes. The ambulance arrived and they put her on the stretcher and took her to the hospital, but it was a waste of time. She was dead by the time they arrived.

  "Bruce went berserk, blaming himself because he let her talk him into taking the more gentle horse. At least, that was what he claimed. My guess is he never volunteered to ride Fury. He wasn't man enough." She smirked.

  "Where is Bruce now?"

  "Downstairs in the office, drinking himself into a stupor, I imagine. I told him he could stay until after the funeral."

  "You mean he doesn't even have any claim on the house?"

  "No. It's all complicated, tied up in what is now our estate. According to Beau, our lawyers think they might be able to accelerate our taking more direct control. That was the word he used . . . 'accelerate.' There is a great deal of money, you know. Remember how stingy Daphne was with us after Daddy had died? Well, she can't be so stingy now, can she?

  "Have you noticed how long my hair has grown?" she said, shifting topics without pausing to take a breath. "Beau likes it that way." It was nearly the same length as my own hair.

  "How is . . . Beau?"

  "Wonderful . . . and happy," she added quickly. "So don't say anything or do anything to ruin things for us or . . . or the world might just find out what a sinner you are," she said, shooting a hostile glance at me.

  "How can you make threats at a time like this, Gisselle?" I asked, astounded.

  "I'm not making threats. I'm just warning you not to spoil my happiness. You've made your decisions and you're happy with your choices. Good. Now I have a right to be happy, too. And so does Beau."

  "I didn't come here to ruin anyone's happiness." "That's nice to hear." She smiled, tilting her head toward the door. "Paul isn't with you?"

  "He will be here for the funeral."

  "And the baby . . . what's her name?"

  "Pearl," I said sharply. I knew she knew her name. "I thought it was better to leave her at home with Mrs. Flemming."

  "Good. Then you and I can get right to business."

  "Where's . . ."

  "Daphne's body? At the funeral home. You don't think I would permit it in the house, do you? Ugh. It was bad enough we had Daddy here afterward. The only thing we'll have here is the wake, and it will be a nice wake, too. I've already called the caterers. Of course, we'll have tons of flowers. People are sending them like crazy, but I'm having them brought right to the funeral home. And I've prepared a list of people to ask."

  "What are you talking about? List of people? This isn't supposed to be a party," I said.

  "Of course it is," she replied. "It's a party to help us forget the tragedy. Now, don't go around here with a long face and pretend you're devastated. You hated her and she knew it, too. I can't say I cared for her, but I probably have more reason to be sad than you do. She was my stepmother much longer than she was yours."

  I stared at her a moment. Maybe Daphne deserved such a daughter. She had certainly sowed the seeds and by example taught Gisselle to be this self-centered. I sighed, anxious now to get the funeral over with and any other arrangements completed and return to Cypress Woods, where life, at least for me, was far less complicated.

  Stevens brought my things up to the room.

  "Oh, how nice," Gisselle cried when she saw him carrying my suitcase. "We'll be next to each other again. It's times like this that I really appreciate having a sister," she declared, loud enough for Stevens to hear.

  "Mrs. Gidot asked me to inform you that she has prepared some lunch, mademoiselle. Do you want it brought up or . . ."

  "Oh no. Tell her my sister has arrived and we'll be dining in the dining room, tout de suite," Gisselle replied, and then beamed a smile of pride at me. "I learned quite a bit of French while I was in Paris with Beau," she added.

  "Tres bien, mademoiselle," Stevens said, and left.

  "What did he say?"

  "He said very well. Who's Mrs. Gidot?"

  "The Frenchwoman Daphne hired to replace Nina Jackson."

  "Where is Nina?"

  "How would I know where someone like
that is? Really, Ruby. Anyway, I hope you're hungry. Mrs. Gidot is a very good cook and will have something delicious for us to eat, I'm sure."

  "I'll just freshen up," I said.

  "So will I. I've been crying and dragging myself around so much, I'm sure I look terrible. And Beau will be here in a little while," she added.

  My heart started to run away with itself. Just the thought of being face-to-face with Beau again made me tremble. I tried not to let Gisselle see my apprehension.

  "Fine," I said, and flashed a smile. Then I hurried out and into the room that had once been so new and wonderful to me, a room in which Beau had first kissed me and in which he had held me and comforted me during Daddy's wake. I smiled when I saw the picture of the little girl and the puppy still on the wall, and then I went to the window and looked out on the tennis courts and the flowers, recalling how I had felt like a princess the first time I had slept here. It had all looked so magical and precious, I could never have imagined the sadness and trouble that loomed above the great house, just waiting to rain down over us all.

  I stopped to look into the office before I went to the dining room to join Gisselle for lunch. Just as she had said, Bruce was there thumbing through a stack of papers, an open bottle of bourbon beside them. He wore a jacket and a tie, but the tie was pulled loose. His hair was disheveled and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. When he glanced up at me, his first thought was that I was Gisselle, but after he focused, he realized it was I.

  "Ruby!" he cried, rising quickly. He bumped into the corner of the desk in his eagerness to embrace me. The stench of whiskey reached me before he did. He hugged me quickly and stepped back. "It's horrible, horrible. I can't believe what's happened."

  "Why?" I said sharply. "It happened to my father; it happened to my uncle Jean."

  He blinked rapidly and then shook his head.

  "Of course, those were terrible tragedies, too, but

  Daphne . . . Daphne was at the prime of her life. She was more beautiful than ever. She was . . ."

  "I know how wonderful you thought she was, Bruce. I am sorry this has happened. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. There is enough sadness in the world without our contributing to it."

  "I knew you would think like that," he said, smiling. "Your sister . . ." He shook his head. "She's gone wild, and with that boyfriend of hers . . . they're conspiring against me. I need your help, Ruby."

  "My help? You ask for my help?" I nearly laughed aloud.

  "You were always the more reasonable one," he said. "And now that you are very well off yourself, you will understand. Daphne and I had certain arrangements," he continued. "Oh, we never put them in writing as such, but we did. She and I discussed what we would do should something happen to one of us, and we agreed that the other should be granted sole power of attorney. If you will have the estate lawyers draw up the papers . . ."

  "For years you and Daphne were the conspirators, Bruce," I said with ice in my voice. "The two of you conspired against my father. You embezzled, you deceived. Only apparently you were partners in crime with a much smarter second half who wrote you out of most of your spoils," I said, gazing at the pile of documents. "I feel sorry for you, but I won't lift a finger to help you," I said. "Take what you've stolen successfully and leave," I advised him. His mouth dropped open.

  "But . . . La Ruby, you know I always fancied you, and stuck up for you whenever Daphne was too harsh."

  "When?" I snapped. "You never had the courage to oppose her, even when you saw her do mean things to me, to my uncle Jean, even to Gisselle. Don't look to me for favors, Bruce."

  His eyes narrowed. "You two won't get away with this. I have lawyers also, you know, high-paid, important lawyers and business associates."

  "Frankly, I don't care, Bruce. I'm going to leave those battles up to Gisselle."

  He smiled wryly. "She stole your boyfriend, you know."

  I felt the heat in my face and knew I had turned crimson. "I'm married, Bruce."

  His smile widened. "We'll see who gets the last laugh here," he threatened, and returned to the desk.

  I went to the dining room and told Gisselle about my conversation with him. She shrugged.

  "I'm leaving all that to Beau and our attorneys," she said. "But I was thinking I would buy out your share of this house and the New Orleans properties. You have so much, why should you care?" she added before I could offer any resistance.

  "That's fine with me," I said.

  She smiled. "I just knew we would get along fine during this difficult time. We have to do what we can to comfort each other, don't we? What are you going to wear to the funeral? Did you bring something appropriate? I have a closet full of new clothing. You can borrow anything. Just look through my racks and racks of garments. You're a little wider than I am in the hips since you gave birth, but most everything should fit," she said.

  "I brought something of my own, thank you," I said. We both turned when Bruce appeared in the doorway. He hugged a bundle of papers in his arms.

  "I'm leaving for a while," he said. "Going to the offices of my attorneys."

  "Don't think you can destroy any papers, Bruce," Gisselle said. "I know Mother kept copies of everything with Simons and Beauregard, who are now our attorneys."

  He spun around angrily and, in doing so, dropped some of his documents. Gisselle laughed as he fumbled and knelt to gather them up. Then, fuming, he pounded his way down the corridor and out the door.

  "Good riddance," Gisselle called after him. She smiled at me. "I was thinking of closing the house for a month and traveling. Maybe to London. Aren't these oysters and artichokes delicious? This large pastry shell is called vol-au-vent," she said pedantically.

  The food was good, but I wasn't in the mood to enjoy anything. After lunch, Gisselle went to call some friends and I wandered through the house. Little had been changed or added. I sighed deeply and walked on through the house until I came to what was once my studio. Nothing had been taken out of it, but the room had obviously been kept closed. There were layers and layers of dust on everything, and even cobwebs around the windows and in the corners. Paints were dried and brushes hardened. I gazed at some of my aborted drawings and stood by the easel.

  The memory of that day with Beau returned, the day he tempted me into drawing him nude. I looked at the sofa and envisioned him there again, that soft, impish smile on his lips and in his eyes. My heart had been pounding the whole time, but somehow, I had managed to get into my art and had drawn a picture so lifelike and realistic that later, when Daphne discovered it, she had no trouble realizing who it was and what had happened.

  It was later that day, after I had worked on his picture, that Beau and I first made love. The memory of his kiss, his touch, our passionate embraces, swept over me and even now stole my breath away. Mesmerized by my own recollections, I approached the sofa slowly and gazed at it as if I could see us together again, a replay of those moments of ecstasy, the two of us joining in an act of love so complete, we lost ourselves in each other and pledged a love we thought could never die.

  I sat quickly, feeling my legs soften and threaten to give out from under me. For a while I remained there, my eyes closed, my heart thumping against my chest. Then I took a deep breath and turned to gaze out the window at the sprawling oak trees and gardens, recalling how excited I was when I first set out to draw and paint in my own studio.

  "Penny for your thoughts," I heard a soft voice say, and turned to see Beau standing in the doorway. His shock of shiny golden hair still fell wildly over his smooth forehead, and his dark complexion still made his blue eyes glimmer that much more. He wore a dark blue blazer and khaki pants with his shirt opened at the collar. His handsome face was so familiar to me: his sensual and perfect mouth, his perfectly straight, Roman nose, and his strong chiseled-looking chin.

  I was speechless for a moment, unable to move under the radiance of his warm and attractive smile, which quickly turned into a soft laugh.

 
"You look like you're gazing at a ghost," he said. He came to me quickly and took my hands, guiding me to my feet. We embraced and then he stepped back and held my hands up to look at me.

  "You haven't changed, except to look more beautiful," he said. "Well?" he said. "Say something."

  "Hello, Beau."

  We laughed and then he gathered himself into a more serious demeanor, pulling his shoulders back and tightening his lips.

  "I'm glad I've found you alone. I wanted to explain what happened, why I left so quickly when your pregnancy was discovered," he began.

  "I don't demand explanations," I said, turning away.

  "It wasn't the act of a southern gentleman . . . to leave the woman he loved in the lurch. I was a coward, short and simple. My parents were overwrought. My mother was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She thought everyone in New Orleans would learn of the scandal and their lives would be ruined. I never saw my father that low.

  "Then they met with Daphne and she assured them she would take care of the problem if they would have me sent off immediately. I tried to call you before I left, but I couldn't get through. I was practically led off in shackles. In hours they arranged for the transportation, the air tickets, the school, my Paris apartment.

  "I had nothing of my own at the time. I was completely dependent upon my parents. If I had defied them, they would have surely disowned me, and what could I have done for you, for us and a baby?

  "I admit, I was afraid. Before I knew what I was doing and what was happening to me, I was over the Atlantic Ocean. My parents forbade me to have anything more to do with you, but I sent you letters in the beginning. Did you receive any?"

  "No," I said, shooting a quick glance at him. "I was no longer here, and Daphne wouldn't have made any effort to save them or have them forwarded to me."

  "I never ran out on any of my responsibilities before," he said. "Everyone, my parents, Daphne, everyone assured me that things would be all right with you."