All That Glitters l-3

by V. C. Andrews

  "Beau, we looked foolish in there, didn't we?" I asked mournfully. "After we told our story, the Tates' attorney made us look like liars."

  "No," Beau encouraged. "People believed us. I saw it in their faces. And besides, once your handwriting is compared to Gisselle's and analyzed . . ."

  "They will find an expert to discount it, You know they will. She's so determined to hurt us, Beau. She won't spare any cost. She would use Paul's entire fortune to defeat us!"

  "Take it easy, Ruby. Please. We have to go back and—"

  We both turned when the door opened and Jeanne entered. For a moment no one spoke. She held the door partially opened behind her as if she might change her mind and bolt out of the room any moment.

  "Jeanne," I said, sitting up. "Please, come in."

  She stared at me, her eyes watery. "I don't know what to believe anymore," she said, shaking her head. "Mother swears you and Beau are just good liars."

  "No, Jeanne. We're not lying. Remember when you came to me and we had that nice talk before you got married? Remember how you weren't sure you should marry James?"

  Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "Ruby could have told you."

  I shook my head. "No. Listen. . ."

  "But even if you are Ruby, I don't know how you could have hurt my brother like you did."

  "Jeanne, you don't understand everything. I never meant to hurt Paul, never. I did love him."

  "How can you say that with him right here?" she asked, nodding at Beau.

  "Paul and I had a different sort of love, Jeanne."

  She studied me with such intensity, I felt her eyes inside me, don't know. I just don't know what to believe," she said. And then her eyes turned crystal-hard. "But I came here to tell you that if you are Ruby and you did all this, I feel sorry for you."

  "Jeanne!"

  She turned and left quickly.

  "You see," Beau said, smiling. "She has doubts now. She knows in her heart you are Ruby."

  "I hope so," I said. "But I feel so terrible. I should have realized how many people I would hurt."

  Beau held me tightly and I took a deep breath. He got me a glass of water, and as I was drinking it, Monsieur Polk returned, looking even more despondent.

  "What is it?" Beau asked.

  "I've just gotten some bad news," he said. "They have a surprise witness."

  "What? Who?" I asked, my mind searching through the possibilities.

  "I don't know who it is yet," he said. "But I was told he could nail it down for them. Is there anything else you two haven't told me?"

  "No, Monsieur," Beau said. "Absolutely nothing has been deliberately withheld. And everything we've told you is the truth."

  He nodded, skeptically. "It's time to return," he said.

  It was even more difficult to return to the courtroom than it was to first enter it. I felt like a specimen under a microscope. Everyone's gaze followed me down to the front of the courtroom, and people near us covered their mouths to whisper. It made me flush with a wave of heat that rose up my legs and over my face. Every old friend of Grandmère Catherine's was studying my every move, searching gestures for evidence to confirm my identity. The air was thick with their questions. Were Beau and I trying to pull off some scam? Or was our tale the truth?

  We took our seats. Gladys Tate was already seated, steely-faced. Octavious sat staring blankly ahead. Jeanne whispered something to Toby, and Paul's sisters gazed at me angrily. A few moments later, Judge Barrow returned and the courtroom grew still.

  "Monsieur Polk," he said. "Are you ready to continue?"

  "Yes, Your Honor." Our attorney rose with the documents he had prepared for us to sign concerning the inheritance.

  "Your Honor. My clients recognize that their motives for trying to regain custody of Pearl Tate might be misinterpreted. In order to alleviate such misinterpretations, we are prepared to offer the surrender of any and all rights to any spousal inheritance concerning the estate of Paul Marcus Tate." He stepped forward and brought the documents to the judge, who gazed down at them and then nodded at Monsieur Williams to come forward, too. He looked at the papers.

  "We'd have to study these, of course, Your Honor, but," he said with the confidence of someone who had anticipated our move, "even if these do prove satisfactory, this doesn't eliminate the possibility of these two impostors getting their clutches on the Tate fortune. The child whom they are trying to get custody of would inherit, and they would naturally be the trustees of that enormous inheritance."

  The judge turned to Monsieur Tate.

  "Your Honor, it is the contention of my clients that Pearl Tate's natural father is Beau Andreas. She would have no claims to Monsieur Tate's estate."

  The judge nodded. It was like watching a game of chess being played with real people on the board instead of figurines of knights and queens, pawns and kings. We were the pawns, and to the victor went my darling Pearl.

  "Do you have any further exhibits to enter, Monsieur Polk, or any further witnesses?"

  "No, Your Honor."

  "Monsieur Williams?"

  "We do, Your Honor."

  The judge sat back. Monsieur Polk returned to his seat beside us, and Monsieur Williams went to his desk to confer with his associate for a moment before turning and calling out his witness's name.

  "We would like to call Monsieur Bruce Bristow to the stand."

  "Bruce!" I exclaimed. Beau shook his head in astonishment.

  "Is this not your stepmother's husband?" Monsieur Polk asked.

  "Yes, but . . . we have nothing to do with him anymore," Beau explained.

  The doors opened in the rear and Bruce came sauntering down the aisle, a Cheshire cat's grin on his lips when he gazed our way.

  "She must have made him an offer, bought his testimony," I told Monsieur Polk.

  "What sort of testimony can this man give?" he wondered aloud.

  "He'll say anything, even under oath," Beau said, eyeing Bruce angrily.

  Bruce was sworn in and sat in the witness chair. Monsieur Williams approached him.

  "Please state your name, sir."

  "I'm Bruce Bristow."

  "And were you married to the now-deceased stepmother of Ruby and Gisselle Dumas?"

  "I was."

  "How long have you known the twins?"

  "Quite a long time," he said, gazing at me and smiling. "Years. I was employed by Monsieur and Madame Dumas for about eight years before Monsieur Dumas's death."

  "After which you married Daphne Dumas and became, for all practical purposes, the stepfather to the twins Gisselle and Ruby?"

  "Yes, that's true."

  "So you knew them well?"

  "Very well. Intimately," he added.

  "As the only living parent of the twins, can you assure the court you can distinguish between them?"

  "Of course. Gisselle," he said, looking at me again, "has a completely different personality, a more, shall we say, sophisticated awareness. Ruby was more of an innocent, shy, soft-spoken."

  "Are you now, and have you recently been, involved in some legal problems with the current owners of the Dumas Enterprises, Beau and Gisselle Andreas?" Monsieur Williams asked.

  "Yes, sir. They threw me out of the business," he said, glaring at us. "After years of dedicated service, they decided to enforce a foolish prenuptial agreement between me and my deceased wife. They manipulated me out of my rightful position and drove me into the streets, turning me into a pauper."

  "He's lying," Beau whispered to Monsieur Polk. "You should have told me all about him," he replied. "I asked you if there was anything else."

  "Who knew Gladys Tate would find him?"

  "More likely, he found her, Beau," I said. "For revenge. They fit together like a hand in a glove."

  "This woman who you see sitting before you, sir," Monsieur Williams said, turning to me. "Was she a party to all this, directly?"

  "Yes, she was. I went back to plead with her recently and she literally had me throw
n out of what had been my own house," he said.

  "So," Monsieur Williams concluded with a smile of satisfaction, "this was no shy, innocent woman."

  "Hardly," Bruce said, widening his own smile and looking at the judge, who turned his scrutinizing eyes on me.

  "Still, sir, it is possible, I imagine, for an identical twin to fool someone into believing she is her sister," Monsieur Williams said. "She could have performed a well-prepared script and said all the right things to convince you she was her sister."

  "I suppose," Bruce said. Why was Monsieur Williams giving us that benefit of doubt? I wondered, but it was like hearing—the first shoe drop. I cringed inside and clutched my hands so hard, my fingers went numb.

  "Then how can you be so sure you were in an argument with Gisselle and not Ruby recently?"

  "I'm ashamed to say," Bruce replied, looking down.

  "I'm afraid I have to ask you nevertheless, sir. A child's future is in the balance, not to mention a major fortune."

  Bruce nodded, took a deep breath, and looked up as if he were concentrating on an angel in the ceiling. "I once let myself be seduced by my stepdaughter Gisselle."

  The audience gave one simultaneous gasp.

  "As I said, she was very sophisticated and worldly," he added.

  "Did anyone else know about this, monsieur?"

  "No," Bruce said. "I wasn't very proud of it." "But this woman indicated to you that she knew?"

  Monsieur Williams asked, pointing to me.

  "Yes. She brought it up during our argument and threatened to use it against me should I put up any resistance to her and her husband's effort to drive me out of my rightful position. Under the circumstances I thought it was better to effect a quick retreat and start my life anew.

  "However," he said, looking at Madame Tate, "when I heard what they were up to now, I had to step forward and do my duty regardless of the consequences to my reputation."

  "So you are telling the court under oath that this woman who has presented herself as Ruby Tate knew intimate details between you and Gisselle, details only Gisselle would have known?"

  "That is correct," Bruce said, and sat back contented.

  "The only reason he is doing this," Beau whispered to Monsieur Polk, "is because we forced him to leave the business. He and Daphne did some very shaky financial dealings."

  "Are you prepared to open up all that?" Monsieur Polk asked.

  Beau looked at me. "Yes. We'll do anything." Beau began to write some questions for Monsieur Polk quickly.

  "I have no further questions for the witness, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said, and returned to his table, where Gladys Tate sat looking stronger. She gazed my way and smiled coldly, sending chills down my spine.

  "Monsieur Polk. Do you wish to question this witness?"

  "I do, Your Honor. If I may have one moment," he added while Beau completed his notes. Monsieur Polk perused them and then stood up.

  "Monsieur Bristow, why didn't you contest the actions taken against you to remove you from Dumas Enterprises?"

  "I've already said . . . there was an unfortunate pre-nuptial agreement and I was blackmailed by my step-daughter Gisselle."

  "Are you sure your reluctance to take counteraction had nothing to do with the financial activities you and Daphne Dumas conducted?"

  "You are willing to have those dealings scrutinized by this court?"

  Bruce squirmed a bit. "I didn't do anything wrong."

  "Aren't you here to get revenge for being pushed out of the business?"

  "No. I'm here to tell the truth," Bruce said firmly.

  "Did you not recently lose a commercial property in New Orleans through foreclosure?"

  "Yes."

  "You've lost quite a comfortable income and lifestyle, haven't you?"

  "I have a good job now," Bruce insisted.

  "Not paying you a quarter of what you made before you were asked to leave Dumas Enterprises, correct?"

  "Money isn't everything," Bruce quipped.

  "Have you gotten over your problem with alcohol?" Monsieur Polk pursued.

  "Objection; Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said, rising. "Monsieur Bristow's personal problems have nothing to do with this testimony."

  "They have everything to do with it if he hopes to gain financially and he is an alcoholic who needs money for his disease," Monsieur Polk said.

  "Are you accusing my clients of bribing this man?" Monsieur Williams cried, pointing at Bruce.

  "That will be enough," the judge said. "Objection sustained. Monsieur Polk, have you any more questions pertaining to the issue?"

  Monsieur Polk thought a moment and then shook his head. "No, Your Honor."

  "Fine. Thank you, Monsieur Bristow. You may step down. Monsieur Williams?"

  "I would like to call Madame Tate to the stand, Your Honor."

  Gladys Tate rose slowly as if she were battling against an enormous weight on her shoulders. She dabbed at her eyes with a beige silk handkerchief and then sighed loudly before stepping around the table to walk toward the stand. I looked at Octavious. He'd had his head down most of the time and had it down now, too.

  After she was sworn in, Gladys settled into the witness chair like someone easing herself into a hot bath. She closed her eyes and pressed her right hand against her heart. Monsieur Williams stood waiting for her to become calm enough to speak. When I gazed at the people in the audience, I saw how most felt sorry for her. Their eyes were filled with compassion and sympathy.

  "You are Gladys Tate, mother of the recently deceased Paul Marcus Tate?" Monsieur Williams asked. She closed her eyes again. "I'm sorry, Madame Tate. I know how fresh your sorrow is, but I have to ask."

  "Yes," she said. "I am Paul Tate's mother." She didn't look at me.

  "Were you very close with your son, madame?"

  "Very," she said. "Before Paul was married, I don't think a day passed when we didn't see or speak to each other. We had more than a mother-son relationship. We were good friends," she added.

  "And so your son confided in you?"

  "Oh, absolutely. We had no secrets from each other, ever," she said.

  "That's a lie," I whispered. Monsieur Polk raised his eyebrows. Beau turned to me. His eyes told me that he wanted me to tell Monsieur Polk the truth. I had hoped I wouldn't have to do it. It seemed like such a betrayal of Paul.

  "Did he ever discuss with you this elaborate plan to switch his wife with Monsieur Andreas's wife after she was stricken with encephalitis?"

  "No. Paul loved Ruby dearly and he was a very proud young man, as well as religious. He wouldn't give away the woman he loved just so another man could be happy living in sin," she said disdainfully. "He married Ruby in church after he realized it was the proper thing to do. I remember when he told me he was going to do it. I was unhappy he had fathered a child out of wedlock, of course, but I was happy he wanted to do what was morally right."

  "She wasn't happy," I murmured. "She made him miserable. She—"

  "Shh," Monsieur Polk said. He looked like he was as fascinated as everyone else with her story and didn't want to miss a detail.

  "And in fact, after they were married, you and your husband and your daughters accepted Ruby and Pearl as your family, correct?"

  "Yes. We had family dinners. I even helped her design and decorate her home. I would do anything to keep my son happy and close to me," she said. "What he wanted for himself, I wanted for him. And he doted on the child. Oh, how he worshiped our precious granddaughter. She has his face, his eyes, his hair. To see them walking together in the garden or to see him take her for a pirogue ride in the canals filled my heart with joy."

  "So there is no doubt in your mind that Pearl is his child?"

  "None whatsoever."

  "And he never told you anything to the contrary?"

  "No. Why would he marry a woman with someone else's child?" she asked.

  Heads bobbed in agreement.

  "During Ruby Tate's illness, you had
many opportunities to visit their home?"

  "Yes."

  "And did he ever give you an indication he was worrying about his wife's sister and not his wife?" Monsieur Williams pursued.

  "No. On the contrary, and as anyone here who had seen my son during this trying period can testify, he mourned so hard, he became a shell of himself. He neglected his work and began drinking. He was in a constant depression. It broke my heart."

  "Why didn't he just put his wife into a hospital?"

  "He couldn't bear being away from her. He was at her side constantly," Madame Tate said. "Hardly how he would be were it not Ruby," she added, gazing scornfully at me.

  "Why did you ask the court to grant an order for you to retrieve your granddaughter?"

  "These people," Gladys Tate said, spitting her words toward us, "refused to give Pearl back to me. They turned my attorney and a nurse away from the door. And all this," she moaned, "while I was mourning the horrible death of my son, my little boy . . ."

  She burst into tears. Monsieur Williams stepped for-ward quickly with his handkerchief.

  "I'm sorry," she wailed.

  "That's all right. Take your time, madame."

  Gladys wiped her cheeks and then sniffled and sucked in her breath.

  "Are you all right, Madame Tate?" Judge Barrow asked.

  "Yes," she said in a small voice. Judge Barrow nodded to Monsieur Williams, who stepped forward to continue.

  "Recently Monsieur and Madame Andreas came to your home, did they not?" he asked.

  She glared at us. "Yes, they did."

  "And what did they want?"

  "They wanted to make a deal," she said. "They offered fifty percent of my son's estate if I didn't force this court hearing and just gave them Pearl."

  "What?" Beau stammered.

  "She's lying!" I cried.

  The judge rapped his gavel. "I warned you. No outbursts," he reprimanded.

  "But . . ."

  "Be still," Monsieur Polk ordered.

  I cowered back, shrinking in my chair with rage burning my cheeks. Was there no limit to how far she would go to satisfy her thirst for vengeance?

  "What happened then, madame?" Monsieur Williams asked.