Pearl in the Mist

by V. C. Andrews

  "Oh, you've seen him there?"

  "Not exactly," I said. This nurse hadn't been working here when I had been forced to stay, so she didn't remember me. But I saw no point in bringing all that back.

  With Beau still right beside me, I walked down to Uncle Jean, who sat staring at his hands. His golden hair was disheveled, and he wore a pair of creased pants and a creased white shirt with some food stains on the front of it.

  "Hello, Uncle Jean," I said, sitting down beside him. I took his hands into mine and he turned, first to look up at Beau and then to look at me. I saw a note of recognition in his blue-green eyes and a small smile start at the corners of his mouth.

  "Do you remember me? . . . Ruby? I'm Pierre's other daughter. I'm the one who's been sending you all the letters." His smile widened. "I've come home from school because . . . because there's been a tragedy, Uncle Jean, and now I've come to tell you because I think you have a right to know. I think you should know." I looked up at Beau, to see if he thought I should continue or not. He nodded. Uncle Jean was still gazing at me, his eyes moving slightly from side to side as he studied my face.

  "It's Daddy, Uncle Jean . . . he's . . . his heart gave out on him and he's . . . he's dead," I said. "That's why he hasn't been here to see you; that's why you've been moved to this ward. But I'm going to complain about it to Daphne and I'm going to see to it that they get you back in your room. At least I'll try," I said.

  Gradually, the small smile that had been on his lips wilted, and his lips began ever so slightly to tremble. I put my hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently.

  "Daddy would have wanted me to come here, Uncle Jean. I'm sure. He was very unhappy about what had happened between the two of you and he was very sad about your sickness. He wanted so much to see you get better. He loved you very much. He really did," I said.

  Uncle Jean's lips quivered more. His eyes began to blink, and then I felt a trembling in his hands. Suddenly, he shook his head, softly at first, and then more vigorously.

  "Uncle Jean . . ."

  He opened his mouth and then closed it, shaking his head harder. The nurse and the attendant drew closer. I looked up at them when Uncle Jean began to make an unintelligible sound.

  "Aaaaaaa . ."

  "Jean," the nurse said, rushing over to him. "What did you tell him?" she demanded.

  "I had to tell him his brother--my father--has died," I said.

  "Oh dear. Easy, Jean," she said.

  His shoulders began to shake and he opened and closed his mouth to make the ugly sound.

  "You two had better go now," the nurse said.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble, but I thought he should know."

  "It's all right. He'll be all right," she assured us, but she was anxious for us to leave.

  I stood up, and Uncle Jean gazed up at me with desperation. He was silent for a moment, and I decided to hug him quickly and did so.

  "I'll be back another time, Uncle Jean," I promised through my tears and then turned away. Beau followed me toward the door. We were nearly there when Uncle Jean screamed.

  "P-P-Pierre!"

  I turned to see him bury his head in his hands. The nurse eased him back on the bed and lifted his legs up so he was lying quietly.

  "Oh, Beau," I said. "I shouldn't have come. Daphne was right. I shouldn't have told him."

  "Of course you should have come. Otherwise he would have felt deserted when Pierre never showed up. At least now he understands why and he knows he still has you," Beau said, putting his arm around me.

  I let my head fall against his shoulder and then I let him take me out and home to where Daddy lay waiting for his final goodbyes.

  11

  The Gloves Are Off

  .

  I told Beau to pull up to the walk a block before

  my house.

  "I feel like Gisselle, sneaking around like this,"

  I said, "but I'd rather Daphne didn't see you dropping

  me off."

  He laughed. "That's all right. Sometimes

  Gisselle's scheming comes in handy. Too bad she

  can't learn from you as well." He leaned over to give

  me a quick kiss on the lips before I stepped out of the

  car.

  "I'll be here tonight," he called after me. I

  waved and ran up the walk to sneak back in through

  the side entrance.

  The house was very still when I entered. I went

  around quietly and started up the stairs, which seemed

  to creak extra loudly just because I was trying to be

  discreet. I was nearly to the top when Daphne called

  up to me. I turned and glared down at her. Bruce

  Bristow was at her side.

  "Where were you?" she demanded, her hands

  on her hips. She wore one of her business suits, rouge,

  lipstick, and eyeliner, but she had her hair unpinned. "I went to see Uncle Jean," I confessed. I had

  made up my mind that I wouldn't lie if she caught me,

  and anyway, I wanted to question why she had cut

  back on the funds for Jean at the institution and had

  him transferred.

  "You did what? Get down here this instant," she

  demanded, stabbing her right forefinger toward the

  floor. She spun around and marched into the sitting

  room behind her. Bruce gazed up at me, that

  somewhat impish smile couched comfortably in the

  corners of his mouth. Then he turned to follow

  Daphne. I was nearly halfway down when Gisselle

  called from the top of the stairway, where she had

  wheeled herself to watch my confrontation with our

  stepmother.

  "I would have covered for you," she said, "but

  you didn't even tell me where you were going." She

  turned her head. "I couldn't even make anything up

  when she came around looking for you."

  "That's all right. I'm not happy about lying and

  sneaking around anyway."

  "Too bad," she said. "Now you're getting into

  trouble." She gave me an oily smile of glee before

  spinning around in her chair to return to her room. I

  continued downstairs quickly and entered the sitting room. Daphne was seated on the sofa, but Bruce was standing beside her, his hands clasped before him. He was scowling, which was a face he wore more for her

  sake than for mine.

  "Get in here," Daphne said when I paused just

  inside the doorway. I approached her, my heart

  pounding. "I thought I told you not to go to Jean. I

  thought I told you not to tell him anything," she said

  quickly.

  "Daddy would have wanted him to know," I

  replied. "And besides, if I hadn't told him, he would

  have been waiting for Daddy and wondering why he

  never came."

  She smirked. "I'm sure he doesn't wonder about

  anything." Her eyes became thin slits and her lips

  tightened for a moment. "Who took you? Beau?" I

  didn't respond, and she nodded with that cold smile.

  "His parents are not going to be happy to hear that he

  was party to this disobedience. Since you've been at

  Greenwood, he hasn't been in any trouble, but as soon

  as you return . . ."

  "Please don't get him into trouble. He wasn't

  party to anything. He was just nice enough to drive

  me up there."

  She shook her head and gazed at Bruce, who

  mirrored her disdain.

  "Anyway," I continued, gathering my courage,

  "now I know the real reason why you didn't want me

  to go to see him." I spoke so sharply that Bruce's

  eyebrows lifted. "Secretly you had Uncle Jean moved

/>   from his private room into a ward."

  She sat back and crossed her arms under her

  bosom.

  "Secretly?" She laughed a hollow, thin laugh

  before looking at Bruce and then turning to me with a

  frown. "I don't have to do anything secretly. I don't

  need your or your sister's or anyone else's permission

  to do anything that regards this family."

  "Why did you do it?" I cried. "We can afford to

  have him in his own room."

  "A private room was a waste of money. I

  always thought it so," she said. "Not that I have to

  explain myself to you or your sister."

  "But he's regressing now. The staff says so. He

  no longer cares about himself the way he used to

  and--"

  "He wasn't making any real progress either

  way. All Pierre was doing was soothing his own

  troubled conscience by lavishing the extra money on

  Jean. It was a ridiculous expenditure:"-

  "It wasn't," I insisted. "I saw the difference; you

  haven't."

  "Since when did you get a degree in mental

  illness?" she shot back. Then she smiled coldly again,

  a smile that put chills into my spine. "Or have you

  inherited some magical powers from your faithhealing grandmere?"

  A heat came into my face. Daphne never

  missed an opportunity to mock my grandmere's

  memory. She loved ridiculing the Cajun world. I took

  a deep breath and stood my ground firmly.

  "No, I simply inherited compassion and human

  kindness," I said. My words cut so deeply, she

  winced. Bruce no longer had a smile on his face,

  impish or otherwise. He shifted his weight from one

  leg to the other and gazed apprehensively at Daphne. "That will be enough of that," she said slowly,

  her eyes as dark as shadows in the swamp. "You

  disobeyed me. I want you to understand right from the

  start what it means to be insubordinate. Your father is

  no longer here to make excuses for you." She pulled

  herself back and her shoulders up to pass sentence on

  me. "You are to go upstairs and remain in your room

  until it is time to attend your father's funeral. I will

  have Martha bring up your meals, and you are not to

  see anyone."

  "But the wake. . . greeting mourners . . ." "We'll make excuses for you, tell people you

  aren't feeling well, and that way prevent everyone

  from knowing about your misbehavior," she said

  curtly.

  "But it wasn't misbehavior," I insisted. "I have a

  right to see Uncle Jean, and he should have been told

  about Daddy, and you shouldn't have had them move

  him into the ward."

  For a moment, my continued defiance disarmed

  her. Then she gathered all her bitterness and leaned

  forward.

  "When you are twenty-one," she replied, her

  eyes somewhat wider, "you will be able to make

  financial decisions without my interference or

  opinions. You can take your entire inheritance and

  waste it on Jean, for all I care. Until then, I'm the only

  one who makes the decisions about how to spend the

  Dumas fortune. I have an expert in these matters," she

  said, nodding toward Bruce, "so I don't need to hear

  from you. Do you understand? Do you?" she

  hammered when I didn't reply.

  "No," I said, nailing my feet to the floor in

  defiance. "I don't understand how you could do this to poor Uncle Jean, who has no life, who has nothing but

  his own troubled mind."

  "Good. So you don't understand." She sat back

  again. "Whatever," she said, waving her hand. "But

  for now, march yourself upstairs and close the door

  behind you or I'll call Beau's parents and have them

  bring him over here right now to hear what you and he

  did," she threatened, "and then punish you twice as

  severely."

  My eyes burned with the hot tears of anger and

  frustration.

  "But I have to be at the wake. . . . I should be--

  "

  "You should listen to what you are told to do,"

  she said firmly, punching out the words. She extended

  her arm, her forefinger pointing toward the stairway.

  "Now march!"

  I lowered my head.

  "Can't you find some other way to punish me?"

  I begged, the tears running down my cheeks. "No. I don't have the time, nor do I have the

  energy to sit here and dream up ways to reward you

  for insubordination, especially when you are

  disobedient under these circumstances. I have a

  husband to bury. I don't have time to be a nursemaid to spoiled, defiant young girls. Just do what I say. Do

  you hear!" she shrilled.

  I sucked in my breath, turned, and walked out

  slowly, my stomach feeling as if I had swallowed a

  gallon of swamp mud. When I got to my room, I

  threw myself on my bed and sobbed. I realized I

  wouldn't be able to help Uncle Jean; I couldn't even

  help myself.

  "So where did you go?" Gisselle asked from the

  doorway. I turned slowly and wiped the tears from my

  cheeks. "Over to Lake Pontchartrain?" she asked, a

  smile of lewd suggestion washing over her lips. "To

  neck?"

  "No. Beau took me to see Uncle Jean," I said,

  and described what I had found. "And so she's had

  him moved into a ward where he has only his bed and

  a beat-up metal locker," I concluded.

  She shrugged, barely showing any interest. "It

  doesn't surprise me. I told you what Daphne was

  capable of doing, but you just don't listen. You think

  the world's all birds and roses. She's going to cut back

  plenty on what we get too. You'll see," she said. She

  wheeled herself closer and lowered her voice to a

  whisper. "It's better that we stay here rather than

  return to Greenwood. Put your brilliant mind and your time to figuring out a way to get her to let us stay,"

  she said.

  "Let us stay?" I laughed so madly I even

  frightened myself. "She can't stand the sight of us.

  You're the one who's dwelling in a world of illusion if

  you think Daphne would even consider having us

  around now."

  "Well, that's just great," Gisselle moaned. "You

  just want to give up?"

  "It's the way it is," I said with a tone of fatalism

  that shocked her. She remained there staring in at me

  as if she expected me to snap out of my mood and tell

  her the things she wanted to hear.

  "Aren't you going to get washed and dressed for

  the wake?" she finally asked.

  "Because I disobeyed Daphne and went to the

  institution to see Uncle Jean, I am not permitted to go

  to the wake. I'm being punished."

  "Can't go to the wake? That's your punishment?

  Why can't I be punished too?" she cried.

  I spun around on her so abruptly she wheeled

  herself back.

  "What's wrong with you, Gisselle? Daddy loved

  you."

  "He did until you arrived. Then he practically

  forgot about me," she moaned.

  "That's not true."

  "It is, but it doesn't
matter anymore. Oh well,"

  she said, sighing deeply and fluffing her hair.

  "Someone's got to entertain Beau when he arrives. I

  guess I'll fill in." She smiled and rolled herself back to

  her room.

  I got up and gazed out the window, wondering

  if I wouldn't be better off just running away. I might

  have seriously considered it if I didn't recall some of

  the promises I had made to Daddy. I had to remain

  here to look after Gisselle, as best I could, to succeed

  at my art and become a credit to his memory.

  Somehow, I would overcome the obstacles Daphne

  was sure to place in my path, I vowed, and some day I

  would do just what she had said I would do: I would

  help Uncle Jean.

  I returned to my bed and lay there thinking and

  dozing off until I heard Gisselle go to the stairway and

  have Edgar help her down to attend the wake. Then I

  got down on my knees and recited the prayers I would

  have recited at Daddy's coffin.

  Martha brought up a tray of food for me, and

  even though she had explicit orders from Nina

  commanding me to eat, I just picked and nibbled, my appetite gone, my stomach too tight and nervous to

  accept much more.

  214

  Hours later, I heard a gentle knock on my door.

  I was lying there in the dark, with just the moonlight

  spilling through my window illuminating the room. I

  leaned over, flicked on a lamp, and told whoever it

  was to enter. It was Beau, with Gisselle right behind

  him.

  "Daphne doesn't know he's up here," she said

  quickly, a capricious smile on her face. How she so

  enjoyed doing forbidden things, even if it meant doing

  something for me. "Everyone thinks he's wheeling me

  around the house. There are so many people here, we

  won't be missed. Don't worry."

  "Oh Beau, you'd better not stay here. Daphne

  threatened to bring your parents to the house and get

  you in trouble because you drove me to the

  institution," I warned.

  "I'll risk it," he said. "Why was she so angry

  anyway?"

  "Because I found out what she had done to my

  uncle," I said. "That's the main reason."

  "It's so unfair for you to suffer anything at this

  time," he said, and our eyes locked for a moment. "I could leave you two alone for a while,"

  Gisselle suggested when she saw the way we were

  gazing at each other. "I'll even go to the top of the