Garden of Shadows (Dollanganger)

by V. C. Andrews

  “Olivia?” Her voice was filled with pleading.

  “There’s nothing for you to do,” I said, “but what Malcolm wants. Start to gather your things together. Plans and preparations must be made. Begin to tell people that you are intending to leave Foxworth Hall, so that when you go into hiding, no one will miss you.”

  “But what about Christopher? Someone’s bound to see Christopher.”

  “Christopher won’t be with you,” I said, inventing the ideas as quickly as I spoke.

  “What? What are you saying?”

  “You will give it out that you are going on a prolonged trip, during which time Christopher will remain here. When you return, you will be leaving Foxworth Hall for good. This trip is to make preparations for your new life. No one need know the details, especially the servants. If anything, we will leave them with the suggestion you are finding a new husband,” I added, satisfied with that touch. Her face was a study of shock and dismay.

  “Shut away from my child? All these months? But he’s a little boy, just three years old. He’s already lost his father. He needs his mother. I know that he is close to Mal and Joel and he’ll enjoy their companionship, but …”

  “They won’t be permitted into the north wing,” I went on, ignoring her objections. “You’ll take the room at the end, the one that has the adjoining bath. The one,” I added, “that you thought was so exciting because of the doorway in the closet that led up to the attic.”

  “But much of it is dusty and cluttered. It’s no place for me to live.”

  “You’ll make the best of it,” I said. I had to make her see that she bore some guilt and responsibility for what was happening to her and her child.

  “But what about the classes for Malcolm and Joel held at the far end? Mr. Chillingworth?”

  “That will have to stop now, won’t it?” I said, happy to have a reason to do so. “Obviously, Malcolm will have to agree to that. The boys will have to be sent to school. It will be better that they are away from the house anyway. There will be much less chance of their discovering anything.”

  “The maids, the servants,” she said. She was grasping at anything to stave off her fate. I was amused by her frantic questions, her hope to find a reason why Malcolm’s plan couldn’t be carried out.

  “The ones we now have will all be dismissed. They will leave thinking you are leaving, even thinking that I am pregnant,” I added. I couldn’t help but like the fact that they would think that. It was almost as if I really were pregnant.

  “Even Mrs. Wilson?”

  “All of them. Maybe not Olsen. Olsen is not in the house that much and is somewhat slow-witted. I don’t think it matters much about Olsen, and I rather like the way he handles the gardens.”

  “But a new maid will still have to come up to me Olivia. She’ll know.”

  “No maid will come up to you. I will come up to you.”

  “You?”

  “I will bring you everything you need,” I said. She would be entirely dependent on me for everything—her food, her clothing, her soap, even her toothbrush.

  “The doctor,” she chirped, thinking she had found a way out.

  “We won’t need the doctor. Later, we’ll get a midwife. You’re young, healthy. There’ll be no problem.”

  “I’m afraid,” she said.

  “What alternative do you have?” With each sentence, I felt my power increasing, as my mind worked quickly to solve every detail. For the first time since I’d come to Foxworth Hall, I felt in control, in command. Yes, now I was true mistress. “You were right to think Malcolm would carry out his threats. And how would you feel having Malcolm’s child to care for after all that he has done to you? You couldn’t help but take out your frustration and pain on the poor thing,” I said.

  “I would never …”

  “A penniless woman with two children to care for, rather than one?”

  “I don’t know if I can do what he wants.” She looked down at her hands in her lap and then looked up at me, resignation settling in her expression. “Only if I know you are here to help me.”

  “I said what I would do, but I won’t spend all my time in the north wing baby-sitting you,” I added. “You must not go into a dream world about this too.”

  She nodded, now resigned to her fate. Speaking to her like this made me feel even more powerful. I couldn’t be as slim and as beautiful as she was, but finally, her beauty had proven to be a weakness and a fault. It had led her down a painful path, a path I would never choose for myself.

  In a strange way I thought of her the way I used to think of the miniature dolls in the glass-encased house. I used to feel frustration because I couldn’t move them about physically. I could only imagine their movements. But I could move her about. I could put a smile or a grimace on her face. I could make her laugh or cry. She was in my hands and as helpless as a little doll.

  “I shall speak to Malcolm,” I said. “And demand he explain everything and tell me everything, even the monetary details.” She looked up hopefully. It was happening already. Her heart was beating in anticipation. I had sent the blood pounding through her veins with the utterance of a simple sentence.

  “Maybe you’ll change his mind. Maybe you’ll get him to see it would be better if I just left now.”

  “Maybe. Only don’t put too much faith in that. Malcolm has never changed his mind about anything.”

  “But he listens to you.”

  “When he wants to; only when he wants to, and only if it will suit his purpose.”

  “Without your cooperation, this can’t work. You could refuse to go along with it.”

  “I could, but the alternative is not a good one for you, is it, my dear?” I said. If there was one thing I wouldn’t tolerate now, it was her making my decisions for me. “He’ll simply carry out his threats. You have to look at it another way now. Without me, you will leave this house penniless.”

  The smile of hope evaporated. I felt like a puppeteer. I had pulled a string and turned her back into a state of depression. From this day forward, she wouldn’t go singing and skipping through Foxworth Hall unless I wanted her to. She wouldn’t be bubbly and alive unless I wanted her to be.

  She fell back on the bed and started to cry.

  “I wouldn’t do that either, Alicia. You must keep yourself strong and healthy. If you went through all this and something happened to the baby …”

  “What?” She looked terrified, her eyes wide, her lips pulled tight.

  “I don’t know what Malcolm would do, but he would believe you hurt or killed the baby on purpose.”

  “I would never, could never do such a thing.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t, but Malcolm would think you had. Don’t you see? You will have to eat well and keep your spirits high.”

  “But Olivia, I will feel … imprisoned.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I know. But we are all imprisoned in one way or another, Alicia. Ironically, your beauty has imprisoned you.” I started away.

  “But someday it will set me free,” she said defiantly. I turned back to her, smiling.

  “I hope so, my dear Alicia. But for now, you might as well consider it your lock and key. Who knows what Malcolm might do next time he looks at you? We know what he sees and we don’t want him to have his way with you anymore. When you are secured in that room in the north wing, you’ll be even more defenseless than you are now, won’t you?” I thought aloud. The realization put more terror in her face.

  “What should I do? I won’t scar my face. I can’t become fat and ugly overnight.”

  “No, you can’t. But if I were you, I’d cut off my hair as soon as possible.”

  “My hair!” She brought both her hands to it quickly, as if it were already being cut. “I couldn’t do that. Garland loved my hair. He would spend hours beside me running his fingers through it, stroking it, smelling it.”

  “But Garland is dead, Alicia. Besides, someday you can grow it back. Right?” She d
idn’t reply. “Right?” I insisted on being answered. I would always insist on that.

  “Yes,” she said, nearly inaudible.

  “After we give it out that you’re leaving and you go into the north wing, I’ll bring the scissors. I’ll even cut it off for you.”

  She nodded slowly, but that was not enough.

  “I said I would do it for you.”

  She looked up.

  “Thank you, Olivia.”

  I smiled.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “But you must always understand that I am in a peculiar and uncomfortable position too.”

  “I know. I’m sorry for that. Believe me.”

  “I believe you,” I said. “Take a nap now and later we’ll talk more about what has to be done.”

  She lay back and I left the Swan Room, closing the door softly behind me. I went to the top of the spiral staircase and looked down at the foyer of the great house. I remembered the first morning I had stood up here and started down, how I had felt myself growing in stature with every step. I was to be the mistress of this mansion. So much had happened since that morning to threaten my authority and position, but ironically, as I began to descend now, I felt I had grown taller, stronger, wiser.

  Mrs. Steiner, coming from Malcolm’s bedroom, where she had straightened and cleaned, surprised me. She walked so softly, I almost suspected her of eavesdropping at the Swan Room door while Alicia revealed all to me.

  “Is Mrs. Foxworth feeling ill?” she asked. It was always difficult for the servants to refer to Alicia as Mrs. Foxworth when they spoke to me. I knew they wanted to say “the young Mrs. Foxworth,” or even to take the liberty to use her Christian name. I glared at her and she shrank back. “I mean, I want to know when I should go to do her room.”

  “You won’t do her room today,” I said.

  “Very good, ma’am,” she said. She started to go past me.

  “She has a headache,” I added, “but it’s nothing serious.”

  Mrs. Steiner nodded. I watched her descend the stairs quickly, eager to make distance between us. She really won’t mind being let go, I thought. Even though she has been here so long and we pay her well. Malcolm will see to it that she and the others get good severance pay. And afterward, I would tell him how many new servants I wanted. Of course, they would have strict orders to stay out of the north wing.

  There would be many things he would have to do now. In many ways he would be taking orders from me. I was looking forward to his explanation of things later, for I would confront him with Alicia’s confessions as soon as he returned home. I was sure he was choosing his own time and place to tell me how things were and how they would be. But I would upset his strategy, and I would do my best to get my pound of flesh.

  All would be dependent upon me, even Malcolm, in ways he didn’t understand or anticipate. I would be in firm control. It was little enough compensation for the things I didn’t have, things I had always dreamt of having; but I was not lying to Alicia when I told her we were all imprisoned in one way or another. What I had decided after Alicia had told me about all that had happened between her and Malcolm was that I would accept my imprisonment, and in accepting it, I would become the master of my own prison house.

  11

  Malcolm’s Way, My Way

  ARROGANT AS EVER, MALCOLM SHOWED NO REMORSE, NO guilt, no shame. When he arrived home that night, I followed him into his private study, a study into which he retreated every evening before dinner, a study that was off limits to everyone in the house save Malcolm and the maid who cleaned it once a week. As I opened the wide oak door without knocking, Malcolm looked startled and angry. “What are you doing in here, Olivia?” he asked sternly.

  I made my face like stone, and put the haughtiest sneer in my voice. “I’m here to talk about your new little baby,” I said. Then I confronted him with Alicia’s story. I spit every detail at him as I raged against his lust and audacity. The sky was shrouded by a spring storm, furious and dark, with angry bruised clouds hovering outside the windows beyond Malcolm’s desk, threatening to come in and consume us. But the clouds were not as bruised and angry as I, and if anyone would consume today, it would be me.

  “You’re making far too much of this, Olivia,” Malcolm said as he rearranged the pencils on his desk.

  As I spoke, the desk lamp cast a glow over his face, darkening his eyes. The storm played havoc with the electric system, causing all the lights to blink. With the windows shut tight to keep out the fierce rain, which now pounded furiously against the windows, scratching at the glass, we seemed trapped together in his study. Malcolm continued to look down at the papers on his desk. He appeared calm and composed, even now. His brow was dry, his face smooth. He looked down at his papers, pretending that this whole situation was of little importance. I waited patiently as he sorted documents into two piles.

  I knew why he was ignoring me. It was a battle of wills. I was determined not to whine, to scream, to act the role of the violated wife, even though that was the role in which he had cast me. Hysteria would only make me weak and cause me to lose control and dignity. Finally, he looked up at me.

  “Olivia, I wanted another child, a daughter, and now I’m going to have one,” he said calmly.

  “What right do you have to assume that I would accept a child of such heinous sin into my home? Did you think you could carry this out without my cooperation?” I asked, my voice still low, my arms resting against the front of my body, my hands gently clasped. I did not allow my posture to reveal the tension building within me. I had learned from Malcolm how to put a shell of myself over myself.

  “I should think you would be in favor of it,” he said, a snide look on his face. He sat back in his chair loosely.

  “Remember, Olivia, when we first contracted to be married, it was assumed that you would provide me with a large family, something I made clear that I required. I had and have definite ideas about what a Foxworth woman should be. You knew what I wanted, yet you failed me in this regard.”

  “That is an unfair statement. It hasn’t been that I didn’t want to have any more children,” I said, moving forward, my hands on my hips.

  “Nevertheless, my dear Olivia, the fact is that you didn’t have any more children. Couldn’t or wouldn’t is not important,” he said.

  “So you went ahead and raped your father’s wife?” I asked, smiling sarcastically.

  He smiled, too, to show me he could not be intimidated. How I had come to hate that cold, calculating grin.

  “You can believe it was that way if you want to.”

  “What do you mean, if I want to? I heard it all directly from Alicia,” I said.

  “What would you expect her to say? Olivia, you can be so blind sometimes. What do you think was going on here, even when my father was alive? Did you think a man that age could really keep the appetite of a girl like that satisfied? She was soon making eyes at me, finding ways to accidentally meet me alone in the house, tempting me with a turn of her shoulders, a glimpse of bare skin here, a glimpse of bare skin there. How many times did she find an excuse to come to me in the library here or even … to my room?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “You’re making all this up to justify what a horrible thing you have done.”

  “Am I?” He smirked.

  “Yes. I know that she sought to drive you away from her, that you pursued her even when Garland was alive.” He smiled again. I would wipe that confident smile off his face yet. My eyes drilled into his. “I witnessed it!”

  “Oh? Exactly what did you witness?” I saw the worry around his eyes, the way his eyebrows turned in toward each other, the way his forehead creased.

  “One afternoon at the lake. You followed her and tried to force yourself on her, but she refused you. I was in the bushes; I saw and I heard it all.” I dropped each word as if it were a cold, hard stone to batter his composure.

  “You fool.” Anger came into his face and tightened his features int
o granite. “You thought by spying on me you would learn the truth. You learned only half of it. She was a tease, a temptress. Why do you suppose I came home early that afternoon and went to the lake? She left all sorts of hints that she would be there, swimming naked. She wanted me to come just so she could torment me. It was part of her pleasure.

  “Later on,” he continued, “she wasn’t so eager to refuse.”

  “That’s ridiculous. That day, before she went to the lake, she asked me to go along with her.” I looked at him confidently; I had caught him red-handed in a lie.

  “Knowing all along that you wouldn’t. It was her way of being sure you wouldn’t be around when I appeared. She didn’t anticipate your snooping, however,” he said thoughtfully.

  “You’re a liar!” I pounded my own thigh with my fist for emphasis. He winced, but he didn’t give ground.

  “Am I? Why do you think Garland’s death lies on her mind so heavily? She was more responsible for it than you think. She wanted me in that room that night.”

  “Wanted you? Wanted you? I saw her nightgown ripped; I saw what you had done. You forced yourself on her!”

  He maintained his cold, confident smile. “It was her way. She enjoyed it rough. The struggle helped to quiet her conscience when afterward she would give in wholeheartedly.”

  “You’re mad!

  “No, Olivia, hardly am I mad. It is you who are mad; you know and understand so little of the ways of men and women. So little because you are so little woman yourself, except, of course, in height.”

  Oh, he knew how to hurt me. How to try to blame me for his infidelity. But if sin and lust were true knowledge, I would rather remain ignorant. “I don’t believe a word you say,” I hissed.

  “Believe what you want. You don’t want to believe it, Olivia, because you don’t want to face the fact that you are a disappointment in many ways as a wife. Besides not being able to provide me with any more children, you can’t provide me with warm, affectionate love. It’s not in your nature; it never was.