brook Farms. He had never married. He squired numerous women to social events in the great capitals of the world, sent Valerie flowers on her birthday, and waited.
When he called, it took her a moment to picture him; a round face, she remembered; small hooked nose, small chin, close-set soft brown eyes, a happy smile, a pudgy body clothed in the world's most expensive suits. He had just returned from Europe. "I want to see you and do what I can to help," he said in his soft voice. "When would be a good lime?"
"I don't go out much these days," Valerie said. "Come this afternoon, if you'd like."
He arrived at four and stayed until six in a proper first visit, entertained by Valerie and Rosemary for part of the time, alone with Valerie the rest. Once Valerie got used to his beard, which hid his small chin and gave him an almost rakish look, she found him just as she remembered: cheerftil, kindly, interested in everything about her, but with the unconscious arrogance of those who never have to count the cost of anything. That never would have occurred to me before, she thought. I suppose I was the same as Edgar, all these years.
She wore a long silk robe with broad stripes in many colors, and her hair fell in waves to her shoulders. "You're wonderftilly beautiftil; lovelier than ever," Edgar said, his brown eyes shining at her. "I wouldn't have thought that was possible. I'm so sorry about Carl; I liked him. But I condemn what he did. To treat any woman that way! Especially a wife one had vowed to protect! He's put you in a dreadful position. A dastardly thing to do."
Oh, Edgar, Valerie thought. She remembered, in high school, accusing him of expressing the obvious with the portentous air of someone discovering gravity for the first time. Still the same, she thought. Amusing and impossible to take seriously.
"It certainly is dreadftil," she said with a solemnity that matched his. "Mother and I are trying to figure out what to do."
"You have no money at all?"
"A few thousand dollars in a checking account. And Mother has her jewels. If she sells them, and we're carefiil, we might get along for a year."
"My God, that the day would come that you would have to talk like this! A woman of the most perfect refinement and beauty, the most exquisite taste, the most elegant understanding of the world; it is impossible that you should have to tarnish your thoughts with anything as crude as money znd £fettin0 alon0."
Valerie broke into laughter, but seeing the sudden narrowing of his eyes, she stifled it. She had forgotten how much Edgar loved drama. Once they had been in a high-school play together, and from then on he inserted dramatic phrases into his daily speech, made broad, dramatic gestures, and strutted like an actor, even in the required after-school sports. No one made fun of him because, in spite of soft eyes and soft smiles, everyone knew Edgar could be vindictive and had a long memory.
"Of course I don't like to think about money," she said, her lids lowered. "But Mother can't seem to concentrate on it, so I'm the one who has to do it. And I'm learning, Edgar; it's amazing how quickly one learns."
"But that's wrong; you must not clutter your mind. You already know how to live well. You need nothing more."
Valerie smiled. "What I need has gone through some changes." She looked up as Rosemary came into the study. "I asked Mother to have tea with us."
"Wonderftil," Edgar said, and he meant it. Everything about him declared that he wanted to be an intimate part of her small, tragically victimized family. He was not a subtle man: he expected Valerie to understand, from the moment he walked into the apartment, that he was there to rescue her and protect her for the rest of her life, and her mother too.
From that day, Valerie was always aware of him. He sent fresh flowers every morning, delicate sprays of orchids, tasteftil arrangements of plumeria, roses, camellias, iris and tulips, or baskets of azaleas heavy with blooms. He telephoned two or three times a day, and took her out at night to restaurants, theaters, concert halls, nightclubs, and to balls and dinner parties given by people both of them had known all their lives.
It was a way of life as familiar to Valerie as the wallpaper in her bedroom, and so it began to seem that nothing had changed very much. Of course Carl was dead, and all her money was gone, but when she was with Edgar none of that had any reality. What was real was a social schedule she moved through instinctively, with never a false step.
Once again, she was transported through the cacophony of New York streets in the hushed silence of a limousine; she whirled through the same ballrooms, planned her days around the same parties and dinners and benefits, dined on caviar and marquis au chocolat on the same gold and vermeil place settings in the same dining rooms hung
with tasseled silk she had known since she was a child, made the same kinds of conversation, and saw the same people. She never once said to herself, I am poor, because she never once felt as if she were. With Edgar's solid figure at her side, in the lulling atmosphere of a world where money could make almost everything right, Valerie sank back, as if into a featherbed. I knew everything would be all right, she thought.
Her mourning became a sadness for all that had gone wrong for Carl and for their marriage; her anger and fear sank beneath the surface of the social schedule Edgar was making for her. And she and Edgar became a famiUar couple in New York: Edgar sleek and rosy in black tie and neat beard; Valerie six inches taller, dressed in last year's silks, her tawny hair gleaming, her gaze often turned inward as she grew quiet during a dance, or fell into a pensive mood at a dinner party. Her friends remarked on that strange, new thoughtfiilness, but it was not unusual, they said to each other, after all she'd been through. Once she married Edgar she'd once again be the lively, careless, laughing social butterfly they'd always been able to count on to keep a party going.
Everyone was waiting for the announcement of Valerie Sterling's engagement to Edgar Wymper. At every party, their friends peered at the two of them, looking for a clue: a ring on Valerie's finger to fill the space left when she'd removed the rings Carlton had put there; a new kind of excitement in Edgar's round face; a speech by Edgar toasting his bride-to-be. But the weeks went by, and soon it was the middle of June. Everyone was preparing to leave New York for cooler climates, and Rosemary worried.
"What will you do if he doesn't ask you.>" she asked as she and Valerie dressed for the last party of the season. It was being given by Edgar's mother and father in the Plaza ballroom.
"He'll ask me," Valerie replied, slipping on her dress. "He expects to marry me."
"And of course you'll say yes."
"I suppose so." Sitting at her dressing table, Valerie looked at her mother's reflection beside her own. Rosemary, dressed and arranging her bracelets, was stately and elegant in black and white lace. "It's Edgar or someone else; I can't think of any alternative. Can you?"
"Well, but, my dear, you do like him. You're fond of him; he's pleasant to be with; you have a good time... don't you.>"
Valerie smiled rueftilly. "Those are the words I used with Kent and
Carl. I liked them, I was fond of diem, diey were pleasant to be with; I usually had a good time with them."
"And you loved them."
Valerie ran a comb through her hair, debated pinning back one side with a gold clasp, then decided to leave it loose.
"Valerie, you did love Carl!"
Their eyes met in the mirror. Valerie's were somber. "Sometimes I thought I did. Sometimes I thought I could love him much more, if we gave ourselves a chance. But mosdy, I felt sorry for him, and I'm not sure how much I was confusing love and pity. He always seemed to be a litde bit lost. One minute he'd make me feel I ought to be mothering him, and the next he'd be forcefiil and sure of himself, and I'd relax and we'd have a good time. No, I don't suppose I really loved him. I liked him. Most of the time I thought we were good friends. I think—I'm a litde afraid—I don't know how to love anyone. I haven't—"
"Don't say such a thing! It's not true!"
"I hope not," Valerie said quiedy. "But it's been a long time since I felt I lov
ed someone in that lovely, deep, magical way the poets write about." She ran a comb through her hair.
"And Edgar?" Rosemary asked.
"I like Edgar. I'm fond of him, he's pleasant to be with, we have a good time. He keeps me entertained and he likes to do things for me." She stood up and surveyed her image. "Edgar lives in a wonderful world. Mother, where no one worries about survival. And he loves me and he'll take care of us. Doesn't that sound like the perfect man?"
Rosemary ignored the irony in Valerie's voice. "You'll learn to love him," she said firmly, certain in her own mind that it was a good thing, as well as a necessary one, for Valerie to marry him. "He may not be perfect, but he sounds just right for you."
Three hundred people came to the Wympers' party at the Plaza, for dinner and dancing and to say their farewells before scattering about the world on their summer jaunts. Valerie wore red, a strapless, sinuous silk sheath that set off her creamy shoulders and gave her face a glow that looked like happiness. Edgar's mother had lent her jewelry for the evening, since she knew Valerie had sold most of her own, and so she wore diamonds and rubies at her throat and ears. Everyone told her she was stunning: the real Valerie, back with them at last. And at eleven at night, as the guests sat at round tables finishing their coffee
and creme brulee, Edgar st(X)d at his parents' table, and the orchestra gave a small fanfare to bring quiet to the room.
"I have an announcement," he said.
In quick protest, Valerie put her hand on his arm. They had not talked about this. It had to be a decision the two of them made together.
Edgar paid no attention; the first time in six months he had ignored her. "Not really an announcement," he said. His voice carried to all thirty tables; there was a quiver in it, but still it had the slighdy pompous drama he had cultivated so successfully. "It's really a request. I decided to make it here, because our friends and our families are here, and it's the end of the season when we make plans for the future." He looked down into Valerie's eyes. "My darling Valerie, I made the decision to speak to you here without asking you, and that may trouble you, but I promise you now that it is the last decision I will ever make without you, if that is your desire. I've been thinking about these words since I was sixteen years old; a long time, a faithful time, as you know, and they are so momentous they require a grand and proper setting. I could have spoken them at any time in the past six months— I know, and so do you, that everyone has been waiting for me to do so—but it seemed clear to me, and I hope it will to you, that the only way to emphasize the significance of this moment is to do it before witnesses, for all time, for eternity."
He stood straight and scanned the faces of the guests. Murmurs of amusement and approval ran through the ballroom. Valerie, exasperated, wanting to laugh, but also angry, saw Rosemary watching her. I have to stop this; ifs a circus, she thought. Once again she put her hand on Edgar's arm. But then she pulled it back. She could not do it; she could not shame him before his family and his firiends. And what difference did it make? One way or another, she was going to marry him; if he wanted to propose in the Plaza ballroom before three hundred witnesses, why should that affect her one way or the other?
Edgar's voice, loud and well modulated, rose again, still with that slight quiver, as his eyes met hers once again. "Valerie, I love you. I've loved you, I've adored you, for more than half my life. From the moment I first saw you, I've wanted to take care of you. I intend to devote myself to making you happy; your desires will be mine, your pleasures will be mine, your world will be mine. And my heart will always be yours. Valerie, my love, my dearest most exquisite Valerie, I am asking you to marry me."
The echo of Edgar's dramatic voice rolled across the dance floor and through the swinging doors to the kitchen where the serving staff stood still to listen. In the ballroom, someone began to applaud. Others took it up, the guests stood, and soon the ballroom was filled with applause and congratulations, happy cries and good wishes, and predictions of joy.
Edgar held out his hand and Valerie took it and stood beside him. She looked at the sleek smiling faces all about them. This was her world, familiar, comfortable, predictable, accepting. This was where she was safe.
And decorative.
Well, so what? she thought. If that's what I've been perfecting for thirty-three years, if s what I ought to keep doing. It's what I do best.
The sound of applause was like a rising wind, and for a brief second she recalled the whoosh of the snow and wind on the lake as Carlton landed the plane and they slid through that powdery whiteness to the forest on the far shore.
/ was more than decorative then. I savedpeople^s lives; I saved my own.
In one burst, like a shock wave, all the feelings of that long night returned to her: the cold, her fear, her exhaustion—but also being needed, being depended on, doing something painful and frightening, triumphing over danger, knowing she was involved in something bigger than the fleeting desires of the moment.
/ want it a0ain. As soon as the thought came to her she knew it had been there since she began to recover. The thought that she might never again know those feelings of triumph and being needed was terrible.
But maybe once was all Pm £food for. Maybe at the next crisis Fll fall apart. Thafs what everyone expects of me.
Or Fm a lot better than they give me credit for. Maybe there's a lot more to me than anyone ever thought. Including me.
The guests were crowding around now, and Edgar put his arm around her, holding her close against the crush. She knew he would always do that for her: protect her from whatever approached. He would never do what Carl had done; he would make sure she was never alone against the world.
She leaned against his solid body, feeling the warmth and strength that came not from workouts in his health club, but from his net worth. Edgar would never allow the slightest danger into her life.
But if there's no danger, how can there be any triumph?
Well, there won't be, she thought; at least not the spectacular kind I had that night. Who needs it, anyway? What people really need is security and pleasure.
"You're so perfect together!" someone was saying.
"Wasn't it nervy, proposing that way!" a young girl exclaimed. "Such a brave man, your Edgar! A real hero!"
Valerie looked at her contemptuously. A hero. For proposing in a ballroom.
"Happily ever after," said a woman nearby. "Such a mess, but you landed on your feet, Val. You're a gutsy lady."
Valerie stared at the speaker. A gutsy lady for landing on my feet. Landing a rich husband, you mean.
The crowd of grinning faces pressed around her; mouths stretched until they looked huge and voracious, roaring with laughter, gossiping, already anticipating the fall social season, with Edgar and Valerie Wymper in the center of it. Valerie forced herself to stand still. Security, she reminded herself. Pleasure.
But what about doinff things I never thou£fht I could do? What about being better than everyone thinks I am?
She looked at the grinning faces. They were so sure they knew her. What did they know? Had they ever saved anyone's life?
Her thoughts had taken only a few seconds. They think Fm only good enough to be Edgar's wife. Who are they, to decide what Fm good enough for? Fll show them what I can do on my own ...
Fear clutched her. She had no idea what she could do on her own. Maybe nothing. But she couldn't believe that: that was what everyone else thought. There was a lot she could do. How hard could it be, really? She was young and smart and she knew the top people in the top companies in the world. She'd find something really tough, and then she'd know once again that feeling of triumph, of proving there was more to her than the prize social catch of any season.
She ignored her fear. I'll get over it, she thought; it goes with finding out what I really can do.
She took Edgar's arm from her waist and stepped away from him, one step back, and then another. He turned a look of surprise on her, and she saw it mirrore
d in the faces of those closest to them. She stood alone, and her low, clear voice rose above the chatter of the guests.
"No," she said.
Chapter 20
a
'' m m j have the perfect job for you," Sybille said
f UJ smoothly. She was in New York for die day, on
i^ ^^r^ business, she said, and had invited Valerie to tea at
f^ ^^T the Carlyle. "You can start right away. You'll have
1^^ I to move back to Virginia, but you do like it there,
and my company is the best place for you right now." "You have a job just waiting for me?" Valerie asked. "As a matter of fact, I do, but if I didn't I'd make one; I worry about you, Valerie. I even feel a little bit responsible for what happened."
Valerie's eyebrows rose. "Responsible?"
"Well, in a way. I ran into Carlton a few times in New York, last fall, and the people he was with seemed awfully peculiar; shady, I thought, not like the men you'd expect to see him with; almost crooked... oh, I shouldn't say that now; what good does it do? But I'm truly sorry I didn't say anything then; you and I might have been able to stop him before he got in so deep he couldn't get out." "Deep in what?" Valerie asked sharply. Sybille shrugged. "How would I know? But if I'd warned you—"
"You're not responsible." Valerie's voice was cool. "You don't have to adopt my problems, Sybille; I can handle them by myself."
Sybille's face froze.
Valerie sighed. "Forgive me; that was rude. I know you want to help, and I do appreciate it. Tell me about the job you want me to take. It's amazing it worked out this way: that you have a production company and I've done all those spots on television."
Sybille sat back, revolving her cup in its saucer. "It is amazing. Remember once, a long time ago, you asked me if I'd give you a job.'' Who would have thought... Well, I can't tell you too much about the job now; I have to work it out with my directors. But you'll definitely have a place, and it will be where you belong. Trust me, Valerie, I know what's best for you. Come to my office in a couple of days, and we'll talk about the details."
A Ruling Passion Page 43
