Evergreen

by Marissa Doyle

  “My father is Charles-Alexandre Boisvert, with Cabot, Boisvert, and Shaw.”

  “Ah, then I do know him. It’s a fine old firm.” As they passed a lantern, he paused and looked at her closely. “Yes…I can see him in you. It’s always a pleasure to meet friends of friends—or daughters of them.” He smiled, and the gold rim of his pince-nez caught the light and glinted with his smile.

  Grace smiled back. What a nice man. She still wasn’t sure how Kit could have come from such amiable parents. And thinking of her own papa made her feel better.

  “I’d love to go home,” she said. “But Alice and I are joining her family in the Adirondacks for a few weeks. That’s why we’re leaving for New York.”

  “The Adirondacks!” His face lit up. “I visited there as a boy and have always wanted to go back. Where are you staying?”

  “The Tahawus Club, but please don’t ask me where it is—I’ve never been there.”

  “You’re in for a treat—the Adirondacks are a lovely place.” He sighed.

  Grace sighed too. “I think anywhere is preferable to Newport right now.”

  He nodded. “It can be overwhelming if you’re not used to it. So now you’re looking forward to taking a vacation from your vacation, are you?”

  Grace laughed. “I think I am!”

  They had arrived back at the terrace to the ballroom. Mr. Rookwood released her arm and bowed. “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Boisvert, even under the circumstances. And I hope your friend feels better soon.”

  “Oh, the pleasure was mine! And…thank you, sir, for your help.”

  He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “It was nothing, and saved everyone some unpleasantness. Good night, Miss Boisvert.” He bowed again, smiled at her, and turned away.

  Grace managed to find Mrs. Rennell and whisper to her that she and Alice had had enough, and that Alice had already gone to bed. Mrs. Rennell looked anxious. “Is she all right?”

  “Er…she may be a little off in the morning,” Grace said reluctantly.

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Rennell’s little face scrunched into its worried Pekinese expression. “I didn’t know—did she have some champagne?”

  “Er…a little.” Then inspiration struck. “I think it was too much lobster salad, myself, though. Don’t worry. I’m going up to her now. It was a lovely party, ma’am—don’t you think it’s gone well?”

  Her expression cleared. “I think it has. I think it’s gone very well!”

  Chapter Nine

  When Grace left the party and came upstairs, she found Alice had been sick on the floor next to her bed. She grimaced and cleaned it up as well as she could with the hand-towels in the bathroom—best not to call a maid, who might tell Mrs. Rennell about Alice’s true condition—then managed to get Alice undressed and sponged off and into bed. She was a little more conscious by that time, enough to cooperate with removing her gown.

  “Don’t tear it,” she mumbled to Grace.

  “Too late. You took care of that yourself.”

  She groaned and half opened her eyes, trying to focus. “Oh…it’s you. How’d I get here?”

  Grace mopped her forehead again. “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?”

  By noon the following day, Alice had improved…somewhat. “I will never again, as long as I live, drink like that,” she muttered to Grace, who brought her some plain black tea at lunchtime. The thought of anything more than that had nearly sent her back into the bathroom to retch over the toilet again.

  “I should hope not,” Grace said severely. “Not after what you told me about your uncle.” Alice’s uncle Elliot had had a severe problem with drink all his life before jumping out of a window while inebriated a few years before.

  “Oh, God…no one knows, do they? Who saw me last night?” Alice removed the cold compress from her forehead and eyes and propped herself up against her pillows, looking blearily at Grace. “What happened, anyway? I gather you rescued me from—from something.”

  “I bumped into Kit’s parents, and between all of us we managed to get you up here without anyone seeing, I think. Before that, I have no idea what anyone might have seen you doing. Kit said something about dancing on a bench—or rather, falling off it.”

  Alice shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t remember anything about that, but I suppose it would account for my sore ankle. Kit’s parents are here? Really? What are they like?”

  “Nothing like Kit—well, he looks like his mother, who’s quite lovely. But they’re very nice people.”

  “‘Very nice people—nothing like Kit.’” Alice grimaced. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  Grace ignored that and rose from her chair by Alice’s bed. “Why don’t you nap now, and maybe you’ll feel well enough later that I can help you start packing. We leave tomorrow afternoon, remember.”

  Alice turned her head away. “Oh, Kit…” That dreamy-eyed expression took over her face. “I don’t want to go to Tahawus if it means leaving him!”

  “Very well. I’ll go up there by myself and tell your parents you’ve run away to join the circus.””

  Alice snorted. “Do you think they’d care if I did? That’s an idea, though. Maybe Kit and I should run away together. Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

  Grace sighed and went to begin her own packing.

  She didn’t accomplish as much of it as she hoped to that afternoon. At four the doorbell rang. Grace ignored it; it had been ringing all afternoon with callers paying the requisite calls of thanks to the previous evening’s hostess, and Mrs. Rennell had been in her element. But this time, the doorbell was followed a few minutes later by a knock on her door.

  “Please, miss,” said the parlor maid when Grace opened it. “Mrs. Fish is outside in her carriage and asks if you’ll come for a ride with her.”

  Mrs. Fish—goodness! “Please have the footman tell her I’ll be down as soon as I put on my hat.” There was no time to change into a proper carriage dress; Mrs. Fish would have to take her as she found her. What could she possibly want? Please let it not have anything to do with Alice last night at the ball!

  Mrs. Fish returned her tentative greeting with no sign of impending lectures. She directed the coachman to keep going until he heard otherwise, then turned to Grace. “So you’re leaving us, I hear.”

  “Yes. I was going to call on you tomorrow to say goodbye and thank you for all your kind—”

  “Well, you won’t need to now, lamb, as I’ve done it for you.” She looked at Grace appraisingly. “It’s a shame you’re leaving, y’know. You’re about the only interesting thing that’s happened this summer, what with Harry Lehr gone.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Grace took a breath and blurted, “Though I can’t understand why you’d find a girl just out of school interesting.”

  “It’s the effect you’ve had on people. Very diverting, you know. If you’d been a twenty-five-year-old with your own house here and a husband in the city five days a week, you’d have been positively dangerous—and even more interesting.” She laughed loudly as Grace blushed.

  “It’s only been Tom Livingston,” she protested.

  Mrs. Fish shook her head. “There’s been any number of boys sniffing around when you haven’t been paying attention—or when Tom hasn’t growled at them to keep away. And what about Kit Rookwood?”

  Grace couldn’t restrain a faint snort. “Oh, no. I don’t know about any other boys, but not him. He’s Alice’s pet, remember?”

  Her jowly face creased in an incredulous smile. “You think so?”

  “Well, don’t you, after their behavior that we were worried about? He seemed to be better after I spoke to him, so maybe he does really care about her.” Then again, after last night, she wasn’t so sure. If he’d truly cared about Alice, he wouldn’t have let her get herself into such a state. “And to be honest, he’s been really quite horrible to me.”

  “Really?” But she was still smiling. “What’s he done?”

>   Grace wished she hadn’t said anything. The whole thing would sound so childish. “He…er, took exception to my being from Boston.”

  Mrs. Fish poked her. “Go on!”

  “He called me a Puritan maiden and made disparaging comments about me and—” She stopped, for beside her Mrs. Fish was shaking with laughter.

  “Oh, lord, lamb! It’s just as I suspected,” she gasped, groping for her purse and extracting a handkerchief from it.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny. It was quite distressing,” Grace said coldly.

  “Did it stop?”

  “Sort of. After the incident on the yacht, he began to avoid me.”

  “Hmm. Yes, that would fit,” she said, nodding.

  “Excuse me if I am about to be rude, ma’am…but would you mind telling me what you’re laughing about?”

  Mrs. Fish patted her arm. “Haven’t you ever seen a twelve-year-old boy when he’s sweet on a girl? What does he do but behave as beastly toward her as he can, because he can’t think of any other way to get her attention?”

  “Oh, no—”

  “Listen, pet. I saw something that you didn’t. I was watching when you fell off that boat. It was very interesting.” She pursed her lips and paused dramatically, just long enough to make Grace shift irritably in her seat, then continued. “If I’ve ever seen anyone’s heart in their face, it was Kit’s then. He looked like he’d lost his only chance of salvation…and then he was kicking off his shoes and struggling to get his coat off and was in after you in a flash. I didn’t think a body could move that fast. If he’s not in love with you, I’m the queen of England.”

  Grace turned to look at her. Surely she was joking—she had to be. But Mrs. Fish’s expression was, for once, solemn.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said flatly. “I’m sure he rescued me quickly, but who wouldn’t have if they were a strong swimmer? I think you’re reading more into it than was really there.”

  “Well, I know what I saw, lamb. And I still don’t think he gives a hoot for your Alice—though I can’t think why he’s been sniffing round her the way he has.”

  “Exactly! Why would he—unless he meant it?”

  Mrs. Fish shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s curious…which is part of why I’m sad that you’re leaving. I’m dying to see how it plays out.” She laughed again and turned the conversation to other topics.

  When the carriage paused again at the Rennells’ gate to drop her off, Mrs. Fish shook her hand. “Enjoy your trip to wherever it is you’re going out in the woods. If you’re in New York this winter, my pet, call on me, please.”

  Grace smiled at her. For all her peculiarities, she’d come to sincerely like Mrs. Fish. “I certainly will, ma’am.”

  “You’re a good girl. The Roosevelt chit’s lucky to have you as a friend—but don’t be too surprised if the loyalty only goes one way.” She held Grace’s hand a moment longer. “There’s something about you,” she said musingly. “Darned if I know what it is, though, beyond that lovely face of yours.”

  As her carriage clattered down the street, Grace watched it. For all her loud and outlandish behavior, Mrs. Fish was a perceptive woman. But she was wrong about Kit. Completely wrong.

  * * *

  They left the next day. Mrs. Rennell drove with them to the docks in Fall River to see them settled into their stateroom on the night boat to New York.

  Alice had completely recovered from her misadventures on the evening of the ball, which hardly seemed fair. But leaving Newport seemed to be punishment enough. She was silently glum during the drive and barely responded to Mrs. Rennell’s conversational sallies. Only when they were actually making their last farewells did she seem to wake up.

  “I hope you’ll consider coming again to Newport next summer, my dear.” Mrs. Rennell tenderly embraced her.

  “What?” Alice blinked. “Oh, next summer. Yes, I’ll certainly see you at some point. Grace Vanderbilt has already invited me to stay with her.”

  Mrs. Rennell seemed unsure whether to scold or cry. “Oh…of course. Goodbye.” She started down the gangplank, pausing partway down and turning as if she wanted to say something. But there were others behind her, and she was forced to hurry down the rest of the way.

  “Did Mrs. Vanderbilt really invite you to stay with her next year?” Grace asked as they stood at the rail looking down over the dock. Poor Mrs. Rennell! At least she seemed to have gained a little social advancement that summer, thanks to Alice.

  Alice didn’t answer. She was too busy scanning the passengers and crew hurrying around below them.

  “Alice?”

  “He didn’t come to say goodbye,” she said bleakly. “He didn’t come after the ball to thank Mrs. Rennell, and he didn’t come today before we left.”

  There was no need to ask who he was. None of the Rookwoods had called on Mrs. Rennell yesterday, which was odd—and it was even odder that Kit hadn’t come to say goodbye to Alice. Grace had expected a dramatic scene involving armfuls of roses and vows of undying devotion, which would have been ghastly…but it would have been preferable to the naked hurt in Alice’s eyes. Once again, someone Alice cared about had let her down.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently.

  “You didn’t quarrel with him again the night of the ball, did you?”

  If only they had—it would have been of no importance to her and might have made Alice feel better. “We barely spoke the night of the ball. I mostly talked to his parents while we were trying to get you upstairs. Besides, I don’t think he’d let my being here stop him from coming to see you.” A shudder ran through her, making her clutch the railing. Oh, no—not again! She took a deep breath and turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Alice called after her.

  “My bunk,” Grace said shortly. The headache and dizziness that she’d felt on the Livingstons’ boat were creeping over her. Bed would be the best place to spend the hours till morning brought them to the city. Oh, why couldn’t they have taken the train to New York?

  She was indeed miserable all night. Alice got up several times to bring cold washcloths for her forehead. “You took care of me the other night,” she said a little gruffly when Grace tried to thank her the first time she came. “I can return the favor, can’t I?”

  * * *

  They arrived in New York and caught the train north to Albany, Alice steering them confidently through the echoing train station to the correct platform. In Albany they caught the Delaware & Hudson train to the village of North Creek, which was as far as the tracks went into this part of the Adirondacks. The passengers on the train consisted mostly of men wearing what was probably supposed to look like informal hunting garb but had obviously been made by Brooks Brothers—wealthy bankers and lawyers and brokers, Grace guessed, en route to the great northern forests to stalk deer and catch trout and feel, at least for a little while, like rugged woodsmen. When they arrived in North Creek, she followed Alice down the aisle and out onto the platform…and drew a deep breath of surprise and delight.

  Alice had sat in the window seat, and her enormous hat had blocked Grace’s view. But she’d been distantly aware of an energy, a subtle, invigorating tinge in the air even through the usual train smells of coal smoke and tired upholstery and too many bodies close to her. And now, out here on this rather shabby platform, that tinge struck her with its full, sparkling force.

  It was the scent of hundreds of square miles of trees, green and fresh and vigorous— the brown, mellow scent of oak and beech and maple and the crisper, astringent tang of pine and fir and balsam. They perfumed the air with an intoxicating richness that made her ache to dash into the forest and dance among the trunks and throw herself down in a deep carpet of pine needles and breathe. Everyone in Newport had endlessly congratulated each other about being able to spend the summer in the healthy ocean breezes, but only now did she realize that to her dryad blood, the salt air had been anything but refreshing. She lifted her chin and inhaled deeply, a
nd a delicious giddy feeling made her want to laugh out loud.

  And the trees themselves! She could feel them, sense the hum of their conversations, the sheer overwhelming number of them—far, far more of them than there were humans in this land. It was humbling and awe-inspiring…and exciting in a way she’d never felt before. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to walk among them right now—to run her hands over their bark, rough and smooth, to let their slow thoughts reverberate through her like the notes of an organ, to breathe in their scent… A peculiar shiver ran through her at the thought of being there among them, feeling them with all her senses—

  “You’ll be the young ladies goin’ out to Tahawus,” said a gravely voice.

  Grace reluctantly tore her attention from the joyous trees. The speaker was a grizzle-headed man in a patched canvas coat who could have been any age between thirty and sixty. There was a sardonic but not unkindly glint in his eye as he surveyed her and Alice from the from seat of a covered, two-seater buckboard.

  “I assume so,” Alice said. “And our luggage. Are you our driver?” She motioned to where the porters were stacking their trunks and boxes and bags.

  The man looked at the growing pile on the platform with an expression of stoical resignation. “Good thing they sent two wagons.” He let out a piercing whistle. A young boy who somehow managed to look as weather-beaten and grizzled as his elder brought a wagon up, then stopped to gawk at them.

  “If you’re not doin’ nothing, then you might put your back into loading this gear,” the man said to him, then looked back to Alice and her. “Sooner you git in, th’ sooner we’ll git there.”

  “How far is it to the Tahawus Club?” Alice swung up into the seat after Grace.

  The man chirruped loudly to the horses. They lurched forward, then broke into a steady trot. “Thirty-five miles to the Upper Works. I’m to take you to the Lower Works, and someone’ll be down to fetch you the rest of the way,” he said over his shoulder. “We’ll stop at Aiden Lair to change the horses.”