“You’re a female Daniel, my dear. You entered the lion’s den and emerged unscathed.”
“But the lion will never forgive me.”
“You think he minds your views that much?”
“I don’t think he gives a tinker’s damn about my views. What he and I were really fighting about was you. Oh, make no mistake about it. You’re the indispensable partner, a kind of surrogate son. And he’s damned if he’s going to let me get my hot little hands on you!”
Thad reached across the table for one of them. “How is he going to stop you?”
“I’m not sure. You worship him so, Thad.”
“I don’t worship him at all, I admire him. I consider him a great man. Is that so wrong?”
“It might be misguided. He’s getting old. And he’s scared to death of losing you. Oh, yes, he’s scared of that and he’s scared of me.”
“Because you might take me away from him?”
“And I would, too. If I thought I could.”
“But, Natica, what would it profit you?”
“It’s more of a question of what it would profit you. It might make a man of you.”
She liked his not resenting this.
“So you don’t think I’m even a man?”
“Perhaps not quite such a one as you could be. My standards are very high. Where you’re concerned.”
“But can’t you admit he’s a rather wonderful old boy? Aside, that is, from his constitutional opinions?”
“I’m afraid I can’t separate him from them.”
“You mean you don’t even like him?”
“I don’t like him at all. I thought I’d made that very clear.”
“Then how can you like me?”
“Well, that’s just it. Do I?”
“I’m glad you smile when you say that. Let’s forget poor old Haven. Tell me, dearest. When will we get married?”
“Oh, Thad, I don’t know. Let’s give it a little more time. There are so many things to consider.”
“What, that we haven’t considered?”
“Well, I’m a two-time loser. And you’re so fresh and pure, if that’s not an insult. God knows I don’t mean it as one.”
“I only wish I were purer. I have a past, too.”
“Oh, but a man’s past. That’s nothing. It’s not like mine. No, dear, don’t argue with me about that. I know all too much about that. And then it seems so odd to me—so rather dreadful, really—that you wouldn’t have proposed to me if poor Tommy hadn’t gone to the bottom of the ocean. It’s as if for the second time I were trying to build my happiness on his defeat.”
“In time you may learn to leave those things to God.”
“Exactly. That’s why I need time.” She was shocked by the pain in his eyes. It was rare that he showed pain or even considerable discomfort. It was why it was so hard to determine the depth of his feelings. Yet why in the name of heaven (his heaven anyway) should he want to marry the “likes of her,” as his mother would no doubt have expressed it, in the absence of the deepest feeling? “Oh, I suppose you think I wouldn’t need time if I really loved you. But that’s not true. A woman with my experience learns caution. It’s not only that I don’t want to play with my own happiness. I don’t want to play with yours.”
“Can’t you let me be the judge of my own happiness?”
“I’m perfectly willing to drive to New York right now and spend the rest of the night in your apartment. Does that shock you? Does it make me seem very brash and forward? It seems to me the least I can offer.”
He took her hand again across the table. “No, no, I’m only afraid that I’ve shocked you. A man these days isn’t supposed to say no. But you must try to remember that if you and I did what you suggest we would be committing a sin, at least according to my lights. And I don’t wish ever to associate you with the sins I’ve committed in the past. Do you mind that terribly?”
She paused to reflect. “No, I don’t think I mind it at all. I think I may even rather like it. It’s nice to be special. And now I think you can take me home. Mr. Haven will probably have woken up and will want to have a nightcap with you. You see, I’m really not jealous of him at all!”
24
ESTELLE KNIGHT had few friends in New York, having lived away from the city for forty years, and she was so touchingly pleased by Natica’s occasionally dining with her that the latter made a point of going to her once every two weeks. Estelle was certainly a foolish woman, but she was animated and gay, and her rhapsodic admiration of poetry and drama, leavened by moments of critical acumen, provided an agreeable recess from the dryer world of law. Then there was also the bond of their Averhill past and the shared memory of the hated headmaster. It was also pleasant to Natica that Estelle, though much liking Thad, who played a little game of seeking to discover how much flattery she could take, still did not regard him, as did everyone else, as the catch of catches, whom Natica was an idiot not to grab while she could.
“He doesn’t have your play of mind, my dear. And his cultural education is, well, shall we say porous? The other day, when I was describing how divinely evil the divine Sarah had been in her famous Sortez! to the doomed Bajazet, he said he thought Roxane was supposed to be a ‘sweetie pie.’ He was thinking of Roxane in Cyrano! But of course that’s a detail in a husband. He’s big and strong and rich. He is rich, isn’t he?”
“Not what the Hills would call rich, by any means. But I imagine he makes a good income.”
“Well, after all, we don’t need steam yachts. I think on the whole he’ll fit the bill.”
“Of course, there’s always the question of religion.”
“Pish! Another detail. So many Catholics one knows today are half agnostic. I don’t mean the Irish, naturally.”
“But Thad’s devout. And his mother’s Irish.”
“Then let him be as devout as he wants. And if I were you, I’d become a convert. It’ll make him so happy he’ll buy the world for you. And it won’t mean anything to you. My dear, I know. I became a Catholic myself once, but I lapsed.”
“Estelle! I never knew that.”
“Oh, it was long ago. During a summer that Wilbur and I spent in France. It didn’t give me half the consolation I’d looked for. But you wouldn’t be looking for consolation. So that part of it wouldn’t matter.”
“Was Wilbur a convert, too?”
“Heavens, no. I don’t know which he disapproved of more: my embracing the faith or my forsaking it. He was such a puritan, poor dear Wilbur.”
When Natica turned to the subject of Thad’s political principles, her friend found her objections even more trivial.
“Dear heart, you must recognize that men are always going to have silly views about their government or their church. You mustn’t pay attention to that. It’s like their golf or fishing. Let them have their head in those things and keep the important decisions for yourself.”
“And what are they?”
“Why, everything else. Life! Where you live, how you live, what friends you have, where you go for the summer, what concerts or plays you pick, what parties you give. Really, Natica, one would hardly guess you’d been married twice.”
“I suppose I am being rather a fusspot.”
“And last, but not quite least, you do love the man, don’t you?”
“I think I must. Because it’s really him I worry about. I thought I was thinking of Tommy when I justified my marrying him on the ground that I might be able to give him the impetus to become a headmaster. And I tried to believe I was thinking of Stephen in helping him to save his unborn child. But I wasn’t, in either case, and that’s why I’ve got to be sure I can make Thad—and myself, of course, too—happy in a union of such different religious and political views. For if one is unhappy, the other soon will be.”
“Oh, you love him, my child, that’s clear enough. And you didn’t the other two, not really. Stop tilting at windmills.”
Estelle had now decided that Europe
had sufficiently recovered from the war to permit her to renew her once annual visitations, and she departed to spend some weeks in Paris. Natica did not hear from her until her return, but then she learned of it in an early morning telephone call so high-pitched and hysterical that it made little sense. At last she interrupted, having almost to shout to do so, to tell her excited friend that she would come to her apartment. She called her office to say she would be late and hurried to Madison Avenue where Estelle, amid sobs and moans, managed to inform her that she had been caught smuggling a diamond necklace, arrested and released on bail.
“But, Estelle, it’s only a fine.”
“No, no, it’s a third offense! The brutes caught me back in ‘thirty-nine, and then again, coming over the Mexican border, in ‘forty-five. My lawyer says I’ll surely go to jail! He can only hope for a short term. Oh, Natica, dearest, what am I to do?”
Natica resigned herself to spending the morning with her distracted friend. As she slowly put the picture together, it evolved that Estelle had from childhood regarded smuggling jewelry as a kind of fashionable game for great ladies, even one that it might be “pussyfoot” not to play. Besides, as she spent all her spare money on exotic jewels, she had nothing left with which to pay the duty. That she had no feeling of remorse was hardly surprising. She even boasted to Natica of the great number of times she had not been caught.
At last her sobs subsided. Her lawyer had told her that her only chance of escaping a jail sentence would be if she could find some venerable attorney of unquestioned integrity and national repute to plead her case. Having heard Thad speak glowingly of Mr. Haven she had mentioned his name, and the lawyer had exclaimed he would be just the man.
“Do you think Thad could possibly persuade him to do it? Oh, Natica, if he only would!”
Natica gazed doubtfully at the raddled features of her friend, trying to see them as Mr. Haven would. It was true that Estelle’s long nose, oval chin and densely powdered cheeks gave her something of the air of an English duchess, at least one in a parlor comedy. But the high-piled auburn curls of her massive wig (it had to be a wig, didn’t it?), the thick black eyebrows and the too briefly skirted black satin gown suggested an old cocotte in a tale by Colette. Could she possibly have fooled herself that her fortress of cosmetics added up to some impression of beauty? No, it had to be her scheme simply to annihilate the image of old age, and so long as that was accomplished, did it much matter what was put in its place?
“Well?” Estelle demanded, uncomfortable at Natica’s prolonged scrutiny. “Is there any chance the great man would represent the guilty old party you’re staring at?”
“I could ask Thad to ask him, I suppose. It’s rather an undertaking.”
“Are you afraid of what Thad may ask in return?”
Really! The old girl was keen. “We mustn’t let you go to prison, Estelle.”
“Before such a degradation they will find that, like the captured Cleopatra, I have my own means of escape!”
Natica reflected that the theatre might always see her through. They were already on the banks of the Nile.
“Perhaps you could add your own powers of persuasion to Thad’s.”
“How do you mean?”
“You could appeal to him yourself. He’s a great one on southern chivalry. A damsel in distress and all that.”
“You mean I might vamp him?” At her cackle of laughter the lutes of the Nile faded away. Natica was now riding to Canterbury with the Wife of Bath. “Well, bring the old boy on!”
But Natica saw that this would never do. She left her friend to go to her office where she immediately called Thad. He came in at once and listened carefully while she told him of Estelle’s plight. He then simply nodded and promised to call her lawyer and get all the facts.
“You don’t think it’s a terrible imposition?”
“Estelle is your friend, isn’t she? What else do I need to know?”
And the very next day he called her to ask her to step into the senior partner’s office. She found him alone with Haven. The latter was looking his foxiest, with a gleam of presumably malicious pleasure in his eye. He tapped Thad’s memo on his desk.
“The trouble is, the old girl’s guilty as a hound dog. They found the diamonds hidden on her person, under her brassiere. She doesn’t need a lawyer. She should throw herself on the mercy of the court.”
“And who, sir,” Thad asked, “could better help her in that? With counsel of your reputation she might even get a suspended sentence.”
“On a third offense? And for a diamond necklace? Not a prayer.”
“But if there’s even half a prayer, sir?”
She had never seen Thad more in earnest. His way of showing it was to stand even straighter and look even more reserved. But his cheeks were flushed.
“You’re always talking about what you call my image. How will it be affected by my appearing for a wealthy old tariff thief who sought to adorn her withered charms at the expense of her country?”
Thad brought his fists together. “I hate to ask it of you, sir!”
“And yet you do.” Haven looked now for the first time in Natica’s direction. His smile was flecked with something like malice. “Will the fair hand of our abolitionist friend here be your reward? Office rumor has you two on the verge of engagement.”
Thad looked away. “In no way, sir!” His face was even redder. He strode to the window and stared out for a minute, trying, apparently, to control his temper. “And may I say, sir, your remark surprises me? Will I be deemed out of order if I ask you to apologize to Mrs. Hill?”
“Really! Well, well! A southern gentleman is never rude to a lady, but if my always honorable friend Thad asks me to apologize, I shall do so regardless of what I consider my innocence. And so, Mrs. Hill, I beg you to forgive me. But I still dare to affirm that if there’s any chance of the thing happening that I was apparently so crude as to suggest, I am obligated to take Mrs. Knight’s case.” Haven’s smile was perhaps meant to be benevolent. “But it must be on my own terms and conditions. I shall defend Mrs. Knight according to my lights, consulting no one. Not even thee, my dear Thad. And I shall accept no fee.”
Thad nodded and gruffly expressed his thanks. Natica was not sure if they had won or lost the battle.
***
The case of United States v. Knight et al. in the Federal District Court for the Southern District of New York attracted a large crowd because a popular radio comedian was among the other indicted smugglers in the docket, and the newspaper coverage had been extensive. When Mr. Haven, splendid in his morning coat and silver locks, arose, tall and serene, to speak, there was a dramatic hush.
“Your Honor, my client has entered a plea of guilty. There is no dispute about the facts. She brought to our shores an article of personal adornment and deliberately omitted to make it known to the customs authorities. All that I now say in her defense is that she is a foolish and vain old woman who allowed herself to succumb to the illusion that she was acting in a sort of melodrama of cops and robbers. I beg Your Honor to consider her age and frailty and the essential harmlessness of the folly of her second childhood in fixing what otherwise would be a merited punishment.”
After a shocked silence came these words from the bench:
“Thank you, Mr. Haven. The court will indeed weigh your sensible counsel in sentencing the defendant.”
As Natica sat by the quietly sobbing Estelle during the dreary hearing of the subsequent pleas of guilty of the other defendants, her mind was fixed on the image of the old lawyer who, his spiteful task completed, had left the courtroom. In her fancy it had shrunk to a waxen image that could be pierced with pins. Estelle leaned over to her.
“I’d rather have gone to prison for ten years!” she hissed. “I’d rather have died!”
“Oh, Estelle.”
The waxen image had now strangely changed its shape. It portrayed a shorter, stouter male figure. But the lips had the same mean, superior smil
e. The headmaster and the constitutional lawyer were both made of wax, in which could be pressed the seal of tyranny. And what was poor, battered, sobbing Estelle but the symbol of their victim?
When the hearings were over she guided her stricken friend through the corridor and hall to the street where camera bulbs flashed. One reporter was approaching Estelle with a notebook in hand when a male figure stepped in front of him and handed her firmly into her waiting hired limousine. Thad then turned to Natica before she could get into the car.
“The sentencing won’t be for another week. But I’ve talked to the judge’s clerk. He thinks she may get three months but that we ought to be able to fix it so she spends the time in a prison hospital.”
“She told me she’d rather have died than be so humiliated in court!”
“I know it was tough. But she could have got a year. Maybe two. The old man pulled a neat trick.”
“And did he love it! I’ve never seen such a hateful performance. I’ll promise you one thing. I’m never going to marry a man who’s his partner!”
Thad’s eyes opened wide in surprise. But his next reaction cast the surprise on her. He threw back his head and laughed. It was a loud, cheerful laugh. “Well, would you marry a man who wasn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you marry me if I’m not a partner of George Haven’s?”
She turned hurriedly to get into the car, but he restrained her with a tight grip on her elbow.
“No, please. Answer my question.”
“Thad, let me go. Estelle’s in no condition to be kept waiting.”
“Neither am I. Will you marry me if I’m not a partner of George Haven’s?”
She perceived that he was now very serious. And then, suddenly, it was very serious for her, too.
“Will you?” he repeated.
“Yes!” she almost barked at him and jumped into the car.
On the drive up the East River she could only wonder what it all meant. She had a feeling that she had somehow been trapped. But she was also beginning to wonder if she cared if she had been.
The Lady of Situations Page 26
