I think what you're talking about is power. You're talking about the kind of power people get when they're successful or important. It was a very perceptive thing for a seventeen-year-old to have grasped, particularly a girl, and she looked pensive for a moment and then nodded.
I think you're right, and that is what I mean. I like power. I like what it makes people do, how they behave, how they think. She looked at her mother and then back at Jeremiah. I hate weak people. I think my grandfather must have been weak, to shoot himself like that.
That was a terrible time in the South, Camille. Jeremiah spoke softly, lest his hostess hear them. It was a tremendous change for most people, and some of them just couldn't survive it.
My Daddy did. She looked at him with pride. That's when he made all his money. It was something that most people wouldn't have cared to mention, let alone brag about. And then as quickly as she had brought up the forbidden subject, she dropped it, turning to Jeremiah with those summer sky eyes and smiling a smile that would have melted the heart of a man of iron. What's it like in California?
With a smile at the contrasts in her style, he began to tell her about the Napa Valley. She listened politely for a time, and then was obviously bored. This was not a girl who had a passion for the country. She was far more interested in his stories about San Francisco. And then she told him about a recent trip to New York, which she had found absolutely fascinating, and if she wasn't married by the time she was eighteen, her daddy would take her to Europe, she told him. He still had a distant cousin in France, and what Camille really wanted to see was Paris. She sounded like a little girl as she rattled on, and as he watched her Jeremiah found himself no longer listening to her words, but totally in awe of her delicate beauty. And it was as though he could hear Amelia's words to him on the train ' find a young girl' get married ' have babies. This was the kind of girl that turned old men's heads, and turned their knees to jelly. But he had come to Atlanta not to find a bride but to do business. He had a normal, sane life to return to in the Napa Valley, five hundred employees in three mines, a housekeeper, a house, Mary Ellen, and suddenly as though in a vision, he could almost see Camille dancing among them. It was like a kind of delirium thinking of it and he forced his mind back to the dinner, albeit with considerable effort.
They chatted on throughout the meal, and when a small group of musicians began to play in the main drawing room after dinner, Jeremiah politely asked Elizabeth Beauchamp to dance, but she informed him mat she never danced, and perhaps he would like to dance with her daughter. Camille was standing nearby as she spoke, and there was nothing he could do but offer his arm, although he felt slightly foolish dancing with a girl of her age. Foolish and at the same time pleased, and embarrassed to realize that he was almost breathlessly drawn to her. He had to fight the power of her charm as they whirled around the floor and he looked into the pale sapphire eyes.
Do you like to dance as much as you like hearing about business?
Oh, yes, she smiled up at him, all Southern belle and huge blue eyes, I love dancing. It was as though the earlier conversation had never taken place, and all she ever thought about was dancing. He almost wanted to laugh out loud and call her a little minx, which it was obvious she was. You're a wonderful dancer, Mr. Thurston. It was a skill that came to him naturally and that he enjoyed, but he was amused at her extravagant praise, and he laughed as they circled the room in each other's arms. He hadn't been this happy in years, and he wasn't sure he knew why. It was frightening to realize how attracted he was to her.
Thank you, Miss Beauchamp.
She saw the twinkle in his eyes and laughed too, managing to look both sensual and impish all at once, and again he had to fight his own instincts. Suddenly all else was forgotten, Amelia, Mary Ellen ' all he could think of was the dazzling creature in his arms, and it was almost a relief when the dance ended. As the last waltz came to a close, he was suddenly aware of the heat of the room, the brilliance of the candles, the heady scent of the flowers, and then the brilliance of her eyes as she looked up at him again. And she looked so delicate that she reminded him of one of the lovely Southern flowers in the huge bouquets decorating the room. He wanted to tell her how pretty she was, but he didn't quite dare, she was only a girl of seventeen after all, and he was more than twice her age. It was an awesome thought as he returned her to her mother's side, and a short while later bid them all good night. He held her hand for only an instant as her eyes dove into his and she spoke to him in a soft voice that tore at his soul, and at the same time touched something more primitive within him.
Will I see you again before you leave? There was a plaintive note in her voice and he smiled. That was all that remained on this trip, to be the object of a young girl's crush and to become ensnared in her spell. If that was the case, he chided himself, it was time for him to go back to California.
I don't really know. I'll be leaving Atlanta in a few days.
What are you doing until then? she asked him with the open eyes of a young child. Daddy said you were all through with your work.
I am. But there was no train to San Francisco until the first of the week.
Oh she clapped her hands happily and looked up at him with a broad grin then you'll have time to play. He laughed out loud and allowed himself to kiss her cheek.
Good night, little one. I'm too old to play. And much too old to play with her. He said nothing more, but swung up into the carriage after shaking his host's hand. On the drive back to the hotel, he let his thoughts drift over the evening, and the beguiling Camille. She was an outrageous child, but with those huge blue eyes, and sharp mind, she could have had anything she wanted, and undoubtedly did. It was easy to see why her father adored her, but she was obviously a handful too. And as he thought of her he felt an odd twinge of something more, he felt almost dizzy as he remembered circling the drawing room in her arms as they danced the waltz. There was something immoral about lusting after such a young girl, and he forced her from his mind and attempted to replace her with a vision of Amelia, and then Mary Ellen, but no one could push Camille from his mind, and at last he sank back into the carriage with a breathless feeling, and had she been sitting beside him, child or no, he would have crushed her to him. There was something about her which was so exotic, so beguiling, so sensual, that it almost drove him from his senses, and for no reason he could even understand, Jeremiah felt almost frightened. And suddenly, he was anxious to leave Atlanta and return to California. Because, if he stayed ' it was impossible to say what would happen' .
THE next morning dawned warm and sunny with the smell of spring in the air, as Jeremiah rose slowly from his bed, donned his dressing gown, and wandered out onto the terrace of his room. He was determined to attack a stack of papers he purposefully spread out on the desk, but again and again his thoughts leapt back to the exquisite nymphet he had met the night before and he was furious with himself for it. And the worst of all was that he had another two and a half days to wait in Atlanta before catching the train to California.
He pressed the call button in his room, and a porter arrived to take his breakfast order. And half an hour later a tray arrived, covered with sausages and eggs, biscuits and honey, orange juice, coffee, and a basket of fresh fruit, but as he stared at it, he had no desire to eat, only to see Camille, and he slammed a fist on the table just as there was another knock on the door. Surprised, he opened it, to see the Beauchamps' footman standing there.
Yes? He was startled and embarrassed at his own pounding on the table, though the footman couldn't have heard it.
A note for you, suh. The footman smiled pleasantly and handed Jeremiah an envelope addressed in a delicate, flowery hand. For a fraction of an instant, Jeremiah hesitated, and then took it from him as he waited for Jeremiah's response, as he had been told to do.
It's a lovely day for a stroll in the park, the note read in an almost childlike hand, would you care to join us for the afternoon? We're having lunch at home, and then a
ll of us will go to the park. You'll be quite safe, she teased, and perhaps you could stay for dinner too. She was a brazen little thing, just as he had known the night before, and he wasn't at all sure what to do. The thought of her tormented him and yet he wasn't in any way certain that Orville Beau-champ would be amused to see his business associate strolling through the park with his seventeen-year-old daughter. And to appear on their doorstep for every meal seemed more than a little forward too. Yet he wanted to see her. He felt torn as he read the note again, and then he turned and threw it on the table, as he grabbed a pen and sheet of paper. He wasn't even sure what to say to a child of her age. He wasn't in the habit of courting children of her tender years, and yet there was nothing childlike about Camille Beauchamp. In almost every way, she was a young and beautiful and very tempting woman.
If it is agreeable with your mama, dear Miss Beauchamp, he answered, I will be exceedingly happy for lunch and a stroll in the park with your family and friends he wanted nothing to suggest a clandestine or even solitary meeting and in the meantime, I remain, your obedient servant, Jeremiah Thurston. She didn't know how true the words were, and neither did he, until he saw her again, and felt his heart almost turn loose from its moorings. She was wearing a simple white lace dress, and her shining black hair danced down her back in long graceful curls, bound only by a pale blue satin ribbon. And as they strolled in the garden before lunch, she looked more than ever like an exquisite child, and at the same time, a devastatingly beautiful young woman.
Tin so glad you decided to come today, Mr. Thurston. It must be terribly boring for you at the hotel.
It is. He was careful with his words. There was nothing boring about Camille. But it also struck him that there was something faintly dangerous about her. Her very appeal was dangerous in itself. For the first time in his life, he felt capable of unbridled madness. He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms, throw her parasol to the ground, and run his hands through her hair. He turned away from her, as though to flee his own thoughts, and break the spell. And he wondered if his recent restraint with Amelia was making him long for Camille more now.
Are you unwell? She had noticed his expression almost of pain, and she looked concerned as she laid a delicate hand on his arm. It's so terribly hot here in the South. Perhaps you aren't accustomed ' Her voice trailed off and he turned to face her. How innocent she was. He was almost faint with desire for her, and deeply shocked by the power of his feelings. She was barely more than a child after all. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he was somehow not convinced. She was so much more a woman than a child. Surely even Orville Beauchamp knew that' .
Not at all, I'm fine. And it's so lovely here in your garden. He looked at the flowerbeds so as not to look at her, and then suddenly he laughed out loud. It was absurd for a man his age to be so taken with a girl, no matter how lovely she was. He looked at her then, and spoke some of what he felt, hoping to defuse it. You know, Miss Beauchamp, you quite turn my head. The openness of his words somehow helped, and his feelings seemed not sordid but sweet, and she laughed delightedly at him.
Do I? And you're so very grown up too' . It was the perfect thing to say and they both laughed as he took her arm and they strolled in to lunch arm in arm. They chatted about the weather and the parties she had recently attended. She claimed that the young men of Atlanta seemed terribly silly to her. They're not ' She frowned as she looked up at him, struggling for the words. They're not ' important, like you and Daddy. It was her attraction to power that once again surprised him.
One day they might be far more important than we are.
Yes, she nodded, conceding that he might be right, but in the meantime they're very boring.
How unkind, dear Miss Beauchamp. Somehow, he wasn't sure why, but she amused him. Even when she was impossible and spoiled, he thought her delightful and funny.
Kind people bore me too. She twinkled at him, and he roared with amusement. My mother is always kind. She rolled her eyes, and then giggled, and he wagged a finger at her.
Shame on you. Kindness is a lovely virtue in a lady.
Then I'm not sure that's what I want to be when I grow up, Mr. Thurston.
How shocking! He was having more fun than he had had in years, as he took his place beside her at the luncheon table, and Orville Beauchamp looked particularly pleased to see Thurston so amused by his daughter. He hadn't seemed at all surprised to see Jeremiah in their midst again, and Camille had rapidly explained that she had invited Mr. Thurston for lunch and a stroll in the park. Anything she did seemed to meet with her father's approval. Only her mother appeared to be constantly nervous, and in deathly fear of some terrible fate. She was the most uncomfortable-looking woman Thurston had ever met, in sharp contrast to her happy, contented daughter. Camille seemed perfectly at ease at all times. But when she wasn't, everyone knew it, as her mother knew only too well.
Is my daughter behaving herself, Mr. Thurston? Beauchamp shot the question at him from the other end of the table.
Most certainly, Mr. Beauchamp. I am enchanted. And Camille appeared to be too, as she cast brilliant eyes at Jeremiah. And then, she seemed more demure for the remainder of lunch, and it was only when they were walking in the park that she made him uncomfortable again.
You don't think I'm old enough to take seriously, do you? She looked him squarely in the eye and cocked her head to one side as they strolled along in the park, and he pretended to be unconcerned.
What do you mean by that, Camille?
You know what I mean.
I take you very seriously, you're a bright girl.
But you think I'm a child. She looked annoyed. But she wouldn't have been if she could have heard the rush of blood in his veins. You're a very charming child, Camille. His smile was warm, but not as warm as the fire in her eyes. She stared at him, obviously angry.
I'm not a child. I'm seventeen. She said it as though it were ninety-three, but he didn't laugh.
I'm forty-three years old. I could be your father and then some, Camille. There's nothing wrong with being a child. You'll get old soon enough, and wish that people saw you as young again.
But I'm not a child. And you're not my father.
I wish I were. He spoke in soothing tones, but her eyes flashed just the same.
You do not. That's a lie. I saw how you looked at me when we danced last night. But today you keep reminding yourself of who I am, that I'm Orville Beauchamp's daughter, and I'm only a girl. Well, I'm not a child. I'm more woman than you know. And with that, she pressed her body against his, and kissed his lips, and he was so astounded that he almost took a step back, but he found that he couldn't move anywhere but closer to her, and without thinking, he let desire take the upper hand and he crushed her against himself, kissing her with all the passion he felt for her. And when his lips left hers at last, he was aghast at what he'd done. He didn't even remember that it was she who kissed him first.
Camille. Miss Beauchamp' I must apologize. '
Don't be a fool ' it was I who kissed you. ' She seemed not to have lost her sangfroid at all, and as the others rounded the turn in the path, she looked quite in control, and she quietly took his arm. We'd best keep walking so the others don't notice. ' And then dumbly, he let her take his arm, and a moment later he began to laugh. Nothing like it had ever happened before. She was easily the most outrageous girl he had ever met.
How dare you do such a thing!
Are you shocked? She looked only a trifle concerned, mostly she seemed pleased, and he wanted to stop and shake her until she screamed and then hold her close ' and he forced himself to listen as she continued talking. You know, I've never done that before.
Well, I certainly hope not. People might begin to talk. He was laughing now. Imagine being kissed by a seventeen-year-old girl, but more than that ' imagine kissing her back. ' It was all like a dream, and she looked at him with curiosity in her eyes.
Will you tell?
What do
you suppose would happen if I did, Camille? You'd be chained to your bed for a week ' or a year ' and I'd be tarred and feathered by your father and run out of town on a rail. She laughed with glee, obviously delighted by the prospect. I'm glad all of that appeals so much to you. Actually, it's not the way I usually care to leave town myself.
Then don't go. Her eyes almost pleaded with him.
I'm afraid I must. I have a business to run in California. She didn't seem to object to that, but there was something sad in her eyes.
I wish you didn't have to go. There isn't anyone like you here.
I'm sure there is. You must be surrounded by young, handsome men, just begging for the sight of you.
I told you, they're all stupid and dull. She sounded pettish as she glarced up at him. You know, I've never known anyone like you before.
That's a very nice thing to say, Camille. He could have said the same, but he didn't want to encourage her. I hope we meet again sometime.
You're just being polite. Suddenly, she looked almost near tears as they stopped on their walk again and she looked up at him. I hate it here.
In Atlanta? He was shocked. Why?
She looked beyond the trees in the park. She knew it well, and knew how different her life was from her mother's when she was young. She had certainly heard enough about it in the course of her life. It would be different if we lived in Charleston or Savannah, but ' Atlanta is different from all that. Everything here is ugly and new. People aren't as genteel here as they are in other parts of the South, and when we go there, people aren't as nice to us. It's like my mother ' she knows the difference, she tells us about it all the time. It's as if Daddy isn't good enough for her, and she thinks I'm like him she made a face and Hubert's worse. Jeremiah laughed. I hate being here. Everybody here thinks like that. They accept Mama ' but they whisper about Daddy and Hubert and me ' they don't do that up North, and I'm tired of it here. No matter how much money your mama and daddy have, they talk about you all the time, who your grandfather was, where your money came from ' look at Mama, she doesn't even have a penny to her name, but they still think she's all right, and we're not' have you ever heard of anything so dumb? Her eyes blazed as she looked into Jeremiah's eyes. He knew precisely what she meant, but it was a difficult topic to discuss with her, and he was stunned that she had brought it up, and so candidly. She really was an amazing girl. Nothing was forbidden to her, not even his arms or his kisses.
Thurston House (1983) Page 7
