Darkest Hour

by V. C. Andrews

  Mamma would jabber on and on about the gossip she had heard or some romance novel she was reading at the time, but Papa rarely heard a word, and Emily always looked distracted with her own thoughts. Consequently, it seemed like Mamma and I were alone. I was her best audience. The trials and turmoil, successes and failures of our neighboring families fascinated me. Every Saturday afternoon, Mamma's lady friends would either come here for lunch and gossip or Mamma would go to one of their homes. It seemed they filled each other's ears with enough news to last the rest of the week.

  Mamma was always just remembering something told to her four or five days ago, and bursting out with it as if it was a headline in a newspaper, no matter how small or insignificant the information might seem.

  "Martha Hatch broke a toe on her stairwell last Thursday, but she didn't know it was broken until it turned dark blue."

  Usually something that happened reminded her of something similar that had happened years and years ago and she would recall it. Occasionally, Papa would remember something, too. If the stories and news were interesting enough, I would bring them back to Eugenia when I stopped to see her after dinner. But the night Mamma declared I would go to school, I had only one topic of conversation to relate. I had heard nothing else. My head was full of excited thoughts.

  Now I would meet and become friends with other girls. I would learn to write and cipher.

  Eugenia had the only downstairs bedroom that was not assigned to any of the servants. It was decided early on that it would be easier for her than having to go up and down the stairs. As soon as I was excused from the table, I hurried down the corridor. Her bedroom was toward the rear of the house, but it had a nice set of windows that looked out over the west field so she could see the sun go down and the farm workers laboring over the tobacco.

  She had just finished her own breakfast when I burst into the room.

  "Mamma and Papa have decided I'm going to start school this year!" I cried. Eugenia smiled and looked as excited as she would have had it been her who was to be enrolled. She tugged on her long strands of light brown hair. Sitting up in her big bed with its posts twice my height and its large, thick headboard, Eugenia looked younger even than she was. I knew that her illness had retarded her physical development, but to me it made her seem more precious, like a delicate doll from China or Holland. She was swimming in her nightshirt. It poured around her. Her eyes were her most striking feature. Her cornflower blue eyes looked so happy when she laughed that they nearly seemed to be laughing themselves.

  "Mamma's taking me to Nelson's to buy a dress and new shoes," I said, crawling over her thick, soft mattress to sit beside her. "You know what I'll do?" I continued. "I'll bring all my books home and do my homework in your room every day. I'll teach you whatever I learn," I promised. "That way, you'll be ahead of everyone your age when you start."

  "Emily says I'll never go to school," Eugenia reported.

  "Emily doesn't know anything. She told Mamma I wouldn't be able to make the walk to school, but I'll get there ahead of her every day. Just for spite," I added, and giggled. Eugenia giggled too. I hugged my little sister to me. She always felt so thin and fragile to me, so I barely squeezed. Then I ran off to get ready to go with Mamma to Upland Station to buy my first school dress.

  Mamma asked Emily to go with us, but she refused.

  I was too excited to care and although it distressed Mamma that Emily took so little interest in what Mamma called "women's things," Mamma was almost as excited as I was and didn't dwell on it more than enough to sigh and say, "She certainly doesn't take after my side."

  Well, I certainly did. I loved to go into Mamma and Papa's bedroom when she was alone and sit beside her at her vanity table while she did her hair and her makeup. And Mamma loved to babble incessantly at our images in the marble framed oval mirror, not turning her head as she spoke. It was as if there were four of us, Mamma and me and our twins who reflected our moods and reacted just the way identical twins might.

  Mamma had been a debutante. Her parents introduced her to high Southern society with a formal ball. She went to finishing school and had her name in the social columns often, so she knew all about how a young girl should dress and behave and was eager to teach me as much as she could. With me at her side, she would sit at her vanity table and brush her beautiful hair until it looked like spun gold and describe all the fancy parties she had attended, elaborating in great detail about what she had worn from her shoes to her jeweled tiara.

  "A woman has a special responsibility toward her own appearance," she told me. "Unlike men, we are always on a stage. Men can comb their hair the same way, wear the same style suit or shoes for years. They don't use makeup, nor do they have to be very concerned about a skin blemish. But a woman . . ." she told me, pausing to turn to me and fix her soft brown eyes on my face, "a woman is always making a grand entrance, from the day she first enters school to the day she walks down that aisle to marry. Every time a woman enters a room, all eyes turn toward her and in that first instant, conclusions about her are immediately drawn. Don't ever diminish the importance of first impressions, Lillian honey." She laughed and turned back to the mirror. "As my mamma used to say, the first splash you make is the one that gets everyone the wettest and the one they remember the longest."

  I was getting ready to make my first splash in society. I was going to school. Mamma and I hurried out to the carriage. Henry helped us both in and Mamma opened her parasol to keep the sun off her face, for in those days a tan was something only field laborers had.

  Henry got up on the seat and urged Belle and Babe, our carriage horses, to mosey on.

  "The Captain ain't had some of these potholes from the last rainstorm filled in yet, Mrs. Booth, so you all hold on back there. It'll be a bit bumpy," he warned.

  "You just don't worry about us, Henry," she said.

  "I gots to worry," he replied, winking at me. "I got two growed women in my carriage today."

  Mamma laughed. I could hardly contain my excitement about my first store-bought dress. The late summer rains had made the gravel driveway rough, but I barely noticed the way we were bounced about as we traveled to Upland Station. The vegetation along the way was as thick as could be. The air had never seemed as full of the pungent scents of the Cherokee roses and wild violets as well as the faint fragrance of the lemon verbena sachet that came from Mamma's silk dress. The cooler nights had not arrived with force enough to turn the leaves. The mockingbirds and jays were in competition for the most comfortable branches on the magnolia trees. It was truly a glorious morning.

  Mamma felt it too. She seemed as excited as I was and told me story after story about her first days in school. Unlike me, she had no older brother or sister to take her. But Mamma wasn't an only child. She had had a younger sister, who had died of some mysterious malady. Neither she nor Papa liked to talk about her, and Mamma especially would moan whenever something unpleasant or sad was introduced into any of her conversations. She was always chastising Emily for doing that. Actually, it was more like pleading with her to stop.

  "Must you bring up such unpleasant and ugly things, Emily," she would lament. Emily would snap her mouth closed, but never look happy about it.

  Nelson's General Store was just what it claimed to be: a store that sold everything from tonics for rheumatism to the new machine-made britches coming down from the northern factories. It was a long, rather dark store, and at the rear of the store was the section for clothes. Mrs. Nelson, a short woman with curly gray hair and a sweet, friendly face was in charge of that department. The dresses for girls and women were on one long rack on the left.

  When Mamma told her what we were after, Mrs. Nelson took out a measuring tape and took down my sizes. Then she went to her rack and pulled out everything she thought would fit, some with a little alteration here and there. Mamma thought a pink cotton dress with a lace collar and yoke was most darling. It had frilly lace sleeves, too. It was a size or so too big for me, b
ut Mamma and Mrs. Nelson decided if the waist was taken in and the hem raised, it would do. We then sat down and Mrs. Nelson brought out the only shoes that would fit me: two pair, one patent leather, black, with straps, and one with buttons. Mamma liked the one with straps. On the way out, we bought some pencils and a tablet and I was outfitted for my first day at school.

  That night Louella did the alterations on my new dress. We did it in Eugenia's room so she could watch. Emily came around once and peered in, shaking her head in disgust.

  "No one wears such fancy clothes to school," she complained to Mamma.

  "Of course they do, Emily dear, especially on the first day."

  "Well I'm wearing what I have on," she retorted.

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Emily, but if it's what you want to do . . ."

  "Miss Walker doesn't like spoiled children," Emily spat. It was her final comment on the activities, which had seized everyone else's imagination and attention, even Papa's. He stopped by to express his approval.

  "Just wait until you see her all dressed up in the morning, Jed," Mamma promised.

  That night I could barely fall asleep because I was so excited. My mind was full of thoughts about the things I would learn and the children I would meet. I had met some of them when Mamma and Papa staged one of their elaborate barbecues or when we attended one. The Thompson twins had a younger brother about my age, Niles. I remembered he had the darkest eyes and the most serious and thoughtful face I had ever seen on a boy. Then there was Lila Calvert, who had started school last year, and Caroline O'Hara, who would be starting this year with me.

  I told myself that whatever my homework was, I would do twice as much. I would never get into trouble in class or not pay attention to Miss Walker, and if she wanted me to, I would eagerly wash down her blackboards and pound out her erasers, chores I knew Emily loved to perform for the teacher.

  That night when Mamma came in to say good night, I asked her if I had to decide right then and there tomorrow what I would be.

  "What do you mean, Lillian?" she asked, holding her smile tight and small around her lips.

  "Do I have to decide if I want to be a teacher or a doctor or a lawyer?"

  "Of course you don't. You have years and years to plan, but I rather think you'll make some successful young man a wonderful and beautiful wife. You'll live in a house as big as The Meadows and have an army of servants," she declared with the authority of a Biblical prophet.

  In Mamma's mind, I would eventually go to a fine finishing school, just like she did, and when the time was right, I would be introduced to fine society, and some handsome, wealthy, young southern aristocrat would begin to court me and eventually come calling on Papa with a request for my hand. We'd have a big, elaborate wedding at The Meadows and I would go off, waving from the back of the carriage, to live happily ever after. But I couldn't help wanting more for myself. It would remain my secret, something to keep deeply in my heart, something I would reveal only to Eugenia.

  Mamma came in to wake me up the next morning. She wanted me fully dressed and ready before breakfast. I slipped into my new dress and put on my new shoes. Then Mamma brushed my hair and tied a pink ribbon around it. She stood behind me as we both looked into the full-length mirror. I knew, from the many times Papa had read it out loud to me from the Bible, that falling in love with your own image was a dreadful sin, but I couldn't help it. I held my breath and gazed at the little girl captured in the mirror.

  I looked as if I had grown up overnight. Never had my hair appeared as soft or as golden, nor had my blue-gray eyes looked as bright.

  "Oh, how beautiful you are, honey," Mamma declared. "Let's hurry down and show the Captain."

  Mamma took my hand and we walked down the corridor to the stairway. Louella had already forewarned some of the chambermaids, who poked their heads out of the rooms they had begun to clean. I saw their smiles of appreciation and heard them giggle.

  Papa looked up from the table when we arrived. Emily was already sitting prim and proper.

  "We've been waiting a good ten minutes, Georgia," Papa declared, and snapped his pocket watch shut for emphasis.

  "It's a special morning, Jed. Feast your eyes on Lillian."

  He nodded.

  "She looks fine, but I've got a full day ahead of me," he said. Emily looked self-satisfied with Papa's abrupt reaction. Mamma and I took our seats and Papa quickly muttered grace.

  As soon as breakfast ended, Louella gave us our box lunches and Emily declared that we had to hurry.

  "Waiting for you for breakfast put us behind," she whined, and started quickly for the front entrance.

  "Now watch over your little sister," Mamma cried after us.

  I scurried as quickly as I could in my stiff, shiny new shoes, clinging to my notebook, pencils and box lunch. The night before there had been a short but hard downpour, and although most of the ground was already dry, there were some potholes still full of rainwater. Emily kicked up a cloud of dust as she marched down our driveway and I did the best I could to avoid it. She wouldn't wait up for me or hold my hand.

  The sun hadn't finished poking its face over the line of trees, so there was a slight chill in the air. I wished we could slow down and take in some of the bird songs. There were wonderful wild flowers still plush and in bloom along the sides and I was wondering if it wouldn't be nice for us to pluck some for Miss Walker. I asked Emily, but she barely turned around to reply.

  "Don't start apple polishing the first day, Lillian." Then she turned and added, "And don't do anything to embarrass me."

  "I'm not apple polishing," I cried, but Emily just said, "Humph," and walked on, her long strides getting longer and faster so that I practically had to run to keep up. When we made the turn at the bottom of our driveway, I saw a large puddle had formed across the road and still remained from the night before. Emily hopped over some large rocks, balancing herself with remarkable agility and not so much as getting the bottom of her soles damp. But to me the puddle looked formidable. I paused, and Emily spun around, her hands on her hips.

  "Are you coming, little princess?" she asked.

  "I'm not a little princess."

  "Mamma thinks you are. Well?"

  "I'm afraid," I said.

  "That's silly. Just do what I did . . . walk on the rocks. Come on or I'll leave you here," she threatened.

  Reluctantly, I started. I put my right foot on the first stone and gingerly stretched to get my left foot on the next, but when I did so, I had stretched too far and couldn't bring my right foot forward. I started to cry for Emily's help.

  "Oh, I knew you would be a problem for me," she declared, and came back. "Give me your hand," she ordered.

  "I'm afraid."

  "Give me your hand!"

  Barely balancing myself, I leaned forward until I reached her fingers. Emily grasped mine tightly and for a moment, did nothing. Surprised, I looked up at her and saw a strange smile on her lips. Before I could retreat, she tugged me hard and I slipped off the rock and fell forward. She let go and I landed on my knees in the deepest part of the puddle. The muddy water quickly soaked into my beautiful new dress. My notebook and my box lunch sunk and I lost all my pens and pencils.

  I screamed and started to cry. Emily, looking pleased, stood back, and offered me no assistance. I got up slowly and sloshed my way out of the puddle. On dry ground, I looked down at my beautiful new dress, now stained and soaked. My shoes were covered with grime, the mud seeping through my pink cotton socks.

  "I told Mamma not to buy you fancy clothes, but she wouldn't listen," Emily said.

  "What am I to do?" I moaned.

  Emily shrugged. "Go home. You can start school another time," she said, and turned away.

  "No!" I cried. I looked back at the puddle. My new notebook was just visible beneath the surface of the muddy water, but my box lunch was floating. I scooped it out quickly and went to the side of the gravel drive to sit on a large rock. Emily was moving away quickly, he
r pace quickening. Soon, she was gone around the end of the driveway and well on her way. I sat there crying until my eyes ached. Then I got up and considered returning home.

  It's what Emily wants, I thought. Suddenly, a rush of anger overtook my sorrow and self-pity. I brushed down my new dress as best I could, using some leaves, and then I plodded on after her, more determined than ever to attend school.

  By the time I arrived at the schoolhouse, all of the children were already inside and seated. Miss Walker had just begun to greet them when I stepped into the doorway. My tears had streaked my face and the ribbon Mamma had taken such care to tie in my hair had fallen out. All faces turned in surprise, Emily looking disappointed.

  "Oh dear," Miss Walker said. "What happened to you, sweetheart?"

  "I fell into a puddle," I moaned. Most of the boys all laughed aloud, but I noticed that Niles Thompson didn't laugh. He looked angry.

  "You poor dear. What's your name?" she asked, and I told her. She whipped her head around and looked at Emily.

  "Isn't she your sister?" she asked.

  "I told her to go home after she fell in, Miss Walker," Emily said sweetly. "I told her she would have to start school tomorrow."

  "I don't want to wait until tomorrow," I cried. "Today's the first day of school."

  "Well, children," Miss Walker said, nodding at the class, "that's the sort of attitude I hope you will all have. Emily," she said, "watch the classroom for me while I see about Lillian."

  She smiled at me and took my hand. Then she led me to the back of the schoolhouse where there was a bathroom. She gave me towels and washcloths and told me to clean myself as best I could.

  "Your dress is still quite wet," she said. "Rub it as dry as you can."

  "I lost my new notebook and pens and pencils, and my sandwich is soaked," I moaned.

  "I have what you need and you can share my lunch," Miss Walker promised. "When you're ready, come back and join your classmates."

  I swallowed my remaining tears and did as she instructed. When I returned, all eyes were on me again, but this time, no one laughed, no one even smiled. Well, maybe Niles Thompson smiled. He looked like he did, although it was going to be some time before I knew when Niles was happy and when he was not.