by Girard, Dara
He grabbed a dishtowel and wiped his face then whacked her on the behind. “Gladly.”
Once the dishes were washed she said, “Now you have to leave so that I can find something to wear.”
“No, I don’t.” The doorbell rang. Robert answered and signed the delivery carrier’s electronic clipboard then handed Victoria a stack of boxes.
“What is this?” she asked walking to the couch with her load.
He wiggled his brows mysterious. “Open and see.” She did. Inside she found a lavender silk pant suit, pearl earrings and black shoes.
She ran her hand over the soft material. “It’s beautiful.” Robert smiled pleased. “Now you’ll fit in wherever my mother decides to take you.”
* * *
Lavinia decided to take Victoria to Mellor Mansion for teatime. Victoria found herself sitting on a grand veranda with white tablecloths billowing like white sails in the breeze. Lace napkins lay on the table before her with an elaborate tea setting and a three tier tray of delicacies: chocolate covered strawberries, fruit tarts and cucumber sandwiches and pastries that looked like white stones. She emulated Mrs. Braxton’s every move, dreading the moment when she would spill her tea or drop her scone and be labeled an outsider. Fortunately, it never happened.
“It is amazing how unlike Rosalind you are,” Lavinia said, adjusting the napkin on her lap. She looked out at the great expanse of lawn. “I expected you to be more talkative. Not that I mind you quiet. If someone has nothing to say, it is best to keep your mouth closed.”
“I am enjoying myself so much I have little to say.”
She inclined her head. “A sensible reply. Has he told you much about Rosalind?”
“No, he doesn’t like to discuss her.”
“I thought he had gotten over it,” she said regretful. “He loved that woman so much it made my heart ache to watch. The Braxton men really know how to love.”
I wouldn’t know. Victoria took a sip of tea.
“She was an artist he met in New York. I told him to stay away from those city women, especially artists. They like to live by their own rules and most of them are plain indecent. But when I spoke to him he was so happy, so I pushed away my prejudices. I flew up there to meet her and attend one of her art shows. She did stain glass things. I call them things because I never quite figured out what they were. They were dazz1ing and beautiful, but that is all I can say. I bought one and displayed it in my living room. I had to sell it after the divorce, naturally. Robert could not stand to look at it when he came to visit. I could not blame him. I was getting tired of visitors and family asking me what it was.” She chuckled. “I tell you, it takes a clever woman to sell something no one can identify. But she was not just talented and clever.”
Lavinia poured more tea and added cream and sugar. “She was a shrewd business woman and made money so fast you would have thought she had a machine in her apartment. I liked that best about her. I didn’t want some woman marrying my son because of his money” She took a sip. “ I did hope things would work out between them. They made such a beautiful couple. Any time they stepped into a room the crowd stared. She was so tall and regal, and he refined and handsome. She had been asked to model once, but she said art was her true passion.” She sighed at the memory. “Poor Robert. He loved her so much. If only he had been a little wiser the divorce would not have hurt him so much.”
Victoria set her cup down, feeling such envy she wanted to throw it. She envied Rosalind. A woman she’d never known and probably would never meet. She envied her because she had been fortunate enough to hear Robert say, “I love you.” She had possessed his love and had hurt him. She envied her regal stature and talented skill. How ‘lucky’ she was to have once had Robert’s love. Perhaps she still had it. Perhaps in the back of his mind she still lingered in his thoughts.
Suddenly Lavinia said, “I’m sure you realize why I’m telling you this. I believe that you are a good sort of woman, but I don’t think you’re the right one for my son.”
I wouldn’t have guessed, Victoria thought. “Is it because I’m not talented or clever?”
Her eyes turned to stone. “No. It’s because your father killed my husband.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Victoria raced into the main house feeling as though her heart would crack and bleed all over the floor. She found Robert in the library. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she cried.
He jumped to his feet and looked at her alarmed. “Tell you what?”
“About your father.”
He grabbed her shoulders. “What about my father?”
Lavinia calmly entered the room. “I told her everything, Robert. You can try to deny it, but that won’t work.”
His eyes darkened. “You had no right—”
“I have every right to tell her the truth,” she snapped.
Victoria fell to the couch all her energy leaving her as ice spread through her body. “So it’s true? Is that why you never mentioned your father?” Her voice shook. “Because my father killed him?”
He looked at her helplessly. “It wasn’t like that. He—”
“Tell her the truth Robert,” Lavinia said. “Tell her what he did.”
Victoria wrung her hands, wanting to scream. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why?”
“Because my son is a good man,” Lavinia said. “Because he didn’t want you to know how your father destroyed our lives. Because he didn’t want to share with you the many years we mourned my husband who was a good and kind man. Robert didn’t want to tell you how long it took for my husband to die because your father was a greedy bastard.”
“Mom,” Robert said. “That’s enough.”
She continued, her eyes pinned on Victoria as her voice trembled with anger. She pointed at her son. “He had nightmares for years. That’s why he left psychology for this fire thing he does. Always searching for answers, but they will never make everything all right. They will never make my husband’s senseless death okay.” She pointed at her. “You--”
He stood in front of Victoria. “I said that’s enough.”
Lavinia stopped, surprised by her son’s vehemence. “Robert, don’t raise your voice at me.”
“Vernon Taylor didn’t kill my father.”
“Yes, he did. He killed all that he was.”
Victoria pulled his shirt, desperate for answers. “What happened?”
Robert paused then said, “One of the buildings of my father’s rival went up in flames. My father was indicted on arson charges and eventually convicted. Fortunately, on appeal they were able to overturn the verdict and he was released.”
“He was never, the same after that,” Lavinia said. “His spirit was broken. He died a few months after his release. Years later we learned that Vernon Taylor confessed to starting the fire for profit. The very same fire for which he’d watched my husband go to prison.”
“But he didn’t kill him,” Robert said.
Lavinia raised her brows. “He didn’t kill him? Where was he when my husband was on trial? Where was he when my husband was sent to prison? Where was he when my husband came out of prison with his reputation in shambles?” She looked at Victoria. “Your father burned a lot more than buildings. He burned dreams and spirits. He killed my husband by taking away the one thing he had pride in—his name.”
Victoria looked at her with tears streaming down her face. “I know. I live with that fact every day. Don’t worry. You’ll never have to see me again.” She darted to the door.
Robert grabbed her and turned her to face him. “This is why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to think it was your fault.”
She tried to free herself from his grasp. “You must hate him more than I ever could.”
He tightened his grip until she became still. “When I was younger I did, but my father is dead, and hating yours will not bring him back.” Her tears gripped his heart, he pulled her into his arms, desperate to comfort her. “It’s okay.”
La
vinia curled her lip. “It’s nice to know you’re so forgiving of a coward who could watch another man pay for his crimes.”
Robert sent her such a look of anger she nearly bit her tongue. “I said that’s enough. I won’t repeat myself again.”
She flashed a cynical smile at the embracing couple. “Fine.” She stiffened her back and clasped her hands together. “I think Amanda should stay with me.”
He led Victoria to the couch and handed her a tissue. “She’s staying here.”
“She’s reaching the age where she needs a woman’s guidance.”
“She’s staying here.”
Her voice rose with indignation. “I will not have her in this house while you carry on with the help! Have you no sense of decency?”
Robert spoke to Victoria without looking at her. “Please excuse us.”
“No, please stay,” Lavinia said. “Let’s hear how your shining knight will come to your rescue. He’s good at rescuing women. Aren’t we Robert? First your sister then your first wife.” Her lip twisted cruelly. “Remember how she thanked you?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“You let her walk all over you. She could do anything.”
“No, she could never hurt me as much as you do.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I knew she never loved me, but I have to remind myself that you do.”
Lavinia stared at him startled by his words. She never intended to hurt him. She loved her baby boy, but she now saw the pain he was careful to hide. She fought against gathering tears. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want what’s best for you. I wish you could see that.”
All she could see was the depths of his feelings for the woman sitting on the couch. He wasn’t even aware how he looked at her, the possessiveness in his eyes, and the tenderness of his touch. She wondered if this woman would use him as others had. He was so blind to how vulnerable he was to her. “You were always so stubborn.” She sighed, resigned. “So you’re serious about your feelings for this...” She gestured to Victoria searching for words. “Woman?”
Robert folded his arms. “Her name is Victoria.”
“I know.”
“I want you to say it.”
“Well for once in your life you’re not going to get what you want.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and shook her head saddened. “Poor Robert, you have more of your grandfather in you than I thought.” She looked at Victoria with reluctant admiration. “Well, young woman, I congratulate you. It seems your aunt taught you well.”
Victoria stared at her confused; Lavinia laughed. “Oh, yes. We haven’t gotten to the will yet. When will that ridiculously hairy man get here?”
“Mr. Englewood was detained due to an emergency,” Robert said. “He will be here tomorrow.”
Her face brightened. “Oh good. That should prove exciting.”
Victoria glanced at both of them. “Why?”
“Because you’ll likely inherit the carriage house and enough money for you to live well for the rest of your life. “You see your aunt also knew that marrying a Braxton was a good career move.”
Victoria turned to Robert. “What is she talking about?”
When he didn’t respond, Lavinia said, “Your aunt took care of his grandfather, then had the presence of mind to marry the dying man and became his rich widow.”
“That’s not why she married him,” Robert said.
“Your grandfather was a sick old man,” she scoffed.
“Why else would she marry him? Did she love him?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“She learned to,” Victoria said, remembering her aunt’s words about the man she married. “She learned to love him very much.” Now things made sense—the picture on the side table, the reason her aunt never told her the name of her husband. But why? Why had she kept it such a secret?
“I’m certain her love grew the closer he got to the grave,” Lavinia said.
“You can choose to believe that,” Robert said. “But you can’t deny that his last few years were some of his happiest. Because despite the death of his first wife, his second son, and his illness, he knew how to live with joy. I think after Dad died you forgot how to love.”
She turned before he could see her tears. “I have things to do.” She left the room.
Victoria moved to follow her. “You have to go after her.”
“Why?” Robert asked.
“Because you hurt her.”
He sighed. “She’s been hurt a long time.”
“I know,” Victoria said then slipped out of the room.
* * *
The sky drizzled a somber rain over the carriage house when Mr. Englewood arrived to read the will. A tall thick man with a bushy, brown mustache that matched his eyebrows, he smiled when he saw Victoria. He held out his hand to her and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Same,” she said.
“Your aunt was a wonderful woman. She will be missed.” He tapped his portfolio. “Where will we meet?”
She led him to the study where he addressed the others. Lavinia, JB, and Jerome sat on one side of the room, while Victoria and Robert sat on the other.
Mr. Englewood sat at the desk and opened his portfolio. “Let’s begin...”
Victoria glanced at a picture of lilies behind his head. Her aunt hadn’t used the study much. The presence of the elder Mr. Braxton lingered in the room with his selection of gardening and finance books and wood sculptures. Her aunt had preferred the living room or kitchen. The kitchen had been the place of her joy and the place of her death. To Victoria it would be the keeper of her memory. A place where she’d cooked their evening meals, filling the house with the scents of plantain, soursop soup, and sizzling fish fritters. She’d remember the sight of her aunt’s reading glasses sitting low on her nose as she read, waiting for the water to boil or a stew to simmer.
“Well, that was expected,” Lavinia said, breaking into Victoria’s thoughts.
She blinked. Everyone stared at her “I’m sorry?”
“You inherited almost everything, weren’t you listening and please don’t look surprised.”
JB frowned. “Mother.”
“Imagine your grandfather giving away something on our land.”
“It was his land first.”
She looked at Robert. “At least she won’t have to marry you to get her hands on your money. Unless two million isn’t enough.”
Victoria jumped to her feet. “Two million? There must be a mistake.”
“There’s no mistake,” Mr. Englewood said. “Naturally, she left a significant amount to charities and had established a scholarship fund for youth in Jamaica, but most of the money was entrusted to you. I can address any questions or concerns you have. I will leave you my card.”
“But there must be an error. This can’t be right.”
“No, it’s not right.” Lavinia said. “But it’s real.”
Millions. It did seem a cruel twist of fate that she should benefit from her aunt’s marriage. Her father had ruined their lives. She shouldn’t inherit what was rightfully theirs. “I don’t want it.”
They stared at her.
She grew more adamant as the silence lengthened. “I’ll give it back.”
“Don’t be foolish,” JB said.
“Didn’t you hear how much?” Jerome said.
Robert tugged on her arm. “You’re just upset.”
“No,” Victoria said. “My father did a terrible thing. If I give you the money back it would be a way to atone.”
Robert shook his head. “You don’t have to sacrifice for your father. Your aunt wrote this will in good faith. She would want you to be taken care of.”
“No, I’ve done nothing to deserve such a fortune.”
“Keep some of the money,” Jerome said. “We’re not exactly paupers.”
“Keep it all,” JB said. “Your aunt wanted it that way.”
Victoria looked at Lavinia. “Wha
t do you think?”
“I think you’re a very dramatic and proud woman. You will not do us any favors by treating us like a charity.”
Victoria’s temper snapped. She stood and went to the door tired of trying to be kind. “I’d like to have a word, Mrs. Braxton.”
“You can’t speak to—”
“I don’t like waiting, Mrs. Braxton.”
Lavinia didn’t move.
Victoria waited.
A tense silence filled the room.
After a moment, Victoria picked up a vase and studied it. “This is beautiful. Is this very expensive?”
“Of course,” Lavinia said, annoyed by her ignorance. “And rare too. It’s a—”
Victoria cut her off by tossing the vase in the air. She caught it and looked at her. “Then if you don’t want me to break it I suggest we have a word.”
Lavinia slowly rose to her feet. “Very well.” She walked past her and sat in the living room.
“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Victoria said.
“I do not sit in kitchens, Ms. Spenser. Now what do you have to say to me?”
Victoria tried not to take offense to the rude tone. She sat in front of her. “I know you don’t think I’m worthy of your son. But I do love him.”
“Love?” Lavinia scoffed. “You love his good looks and his money. Perhaps you know his favorite color or what he likes with his dinner, but that doesn’t prove anything. Women have been falling in love with my boys since the day I had them. And not one of them was sincere. JB’s wife died before he could discover the truth, thank goodness.
“Not one of those women knew what love is. Do you know what love is?” She didn’t give her a chance to reply. “Love is seeing him when he’s miserable with a cold and still being grateful he’s yours, it’s the quiet moments at dinner when you remember his hair used to be thicker, but you don’t care. It’s tantrums and laughter—”
“It’s being angry,” Victoria interrupted. “But never hating him. It’s accepting his moods as he accepts yours and it’s knowing your heart will not waver with time.”
