Decorum (23 page)

“One can improve in education, in prospects, in station in life without changing the essential person,” he said.

He had hit the mark truer than he knew. She thought of Edmund Tracey and his pervasive sullenness, his reserve, and his inattention to her. Edmund would never change. “I suppose that’s true,” was all she could say.

“Do I offend you?” he asked.

“Yes. Sometimes.”

“How?”

“Your observations about my life and my associations, for one thing,” she said evenly. “To be honest, I don’t particularly care what you think of me, or what anyone else thinks for that matter. I don’t care what you think about my life or my brains or my friends or what I can do or what I can’t.”

“Are you always this honest?”

She laughed. “I try to be.”

“With yourself?”

She sighed and thought again of Edmund. “That’s the hardest thing, isn’t it? To be honest with oneself, to know what’s right and to be brave enough to follow that path.” She mused for a moment, watching the skaters. She looked at him and found him musing, too, as he dropped the cigar butt and watched it smolder and flicked snow on it with the toe of his boot. He took up the thread of conversation.

“So you don’t like my swearing?”

“Not particularly, though I suppose it isn’t the swearing so much as your choice of words.”

“Come again?”

“When you take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Oh. A sore spot then? I’m sorry.”

“You see,” said Francesca, not quite knowing how to give voice to a subject so private to her and wondering whether it was worth the effort with Connor, “my faith has always been important to me, ever since I was a small child. Not just religion, not just going to church. It’s something much deeper than that. It’s so much a part of my being I can’t imagine life without God. In those awful years after I lost Father and Mother and Oskar, I don’t think I would have had the strength to go on if I hadn’t had the confidence that a wisdom greater than my own was at work. It frightens me to think that I might not even be here but for that. So you see, I will never excuse your making use of God, even thoughtlessly or in jest. You insult Him, and you insult the only member of my family I’ve got left.” She roused herself and whistled to the dogs, who came at a dead run.

“And you can’t afford to insult Him, Mr. O’Casey, because He represents the one thing you do believe in.” She bent and snapped on the leashes.

“What might that be?”

She paused a moment and then said, “Redemption.”

He stood silent.

“Or don’t you believe in redemption?”

“Do you believe in it?”

“Are you afraid to answer?”

“Are you?”

“Never,” said Francesca with a broad smile, her spirit soaring. “I believe in it with my whole heart and soul. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you to contemplate whether you believe in it yourself. Good day to you.” She turned and left him.

“I not only believe in it,” he called after her, “I’m countin’ on it.”

C
HAPTER
28

Mrs. Lawrence was plumping the cushions on the black horsehair settee when the sound of a cab pulling up outside arrested her attention and drew her to the window.

“Who is it, Mama?” Vinnie asked.

“Francesca, dear.”

A moment later, Vinnie, Anne, and Mrs. Lawrence were greeting her.

“What a relief to see you up and about, dear,” said Mrs. Lawrence. “A little pale perhaps,” she said, holding Francesca’s chin and examining her face, “but it looks like you’re on the mend. Brava. I’ve been telling the girls we don’t see as much of you as we’d like. Do come and warm yourself. Such a bitter day. You must be frozen through. Violet, bring some tea, would you please?”

“Don’t trouble, Mrs. Lawrence.” The maid took away Francesca’s coat and muff.

“Nonsense, dear, it’s no trouble. It’ll give you something warm to put your hands around.” The ladies sat and Mrs. Lawrence recounted the callers for the day. Vinnie hinted at gorier details before reproof in her mother’s eyes checked her. After a short interval Mrs. Lawrence excused herself to see to the family’s dinner. “You will stay, dear, won’t you?” she asked as she paused in the doorway. “We’d so love to have you.” She departed.

Vinnie might have had an electric current running through her, so alive was she to every word Francesca uttered, to every look and gesture. Francesca politely redirected Anne’s artless questions about the wedding back to Anne herself, who chattered with enthusiasm. Minutes ticked away until Michael breezed through the front door, home from work, and Anne led him by the arm in search of Mrs. Lawrence.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Francesca said when the parlor doors were closed.

“I thought maybe you did. Is everything all right? You do look so pale.”

“I’ve been thinking a great deal over the last few days,” she began. “I must get away for a while, and I hoped you would consider joining me.”

Vinnie was not shocked by this proposal. She half-expected it. Perhaps some fresh intelligence had come to Francesca, that she knew about Edmund and the Jet Woman after all. If Francesca knew, however, this sudden desire to leave New York betrayed nothing. Vinnie probed gingerly.

“Get away. What do you mean? Like when Agnes went away for her rest cure?”

“Not exactly. I just can’t seem to think about anything clearly anymore. Not here. Not now. Everywhere I turn I encounter someone or something that causes me to doubt myself, my actions, my reasons for my actions.”

“Have you spoken to anyone else about this?”

“No.”

“Not even to Edmund?” Vinnie held her breath and waited.

“Especially not to Edmund. In fact, Edmund is one of the reasons I must get away.”

Vinnie could have burst for joy, but bridled her tongue with heroic self-control. “It was about New Year’s Day?” was all she said.

“New Year’s Day, Christmas Day, Thanksgiving Day, every day in one way or other. It isn’t simply the resentment and embarrassment. I find I like him less and less. I do care for him, but in a more detached way, as one might feel toward a friend, not a fiancé. What’s more, I feel myself changing in the most distressing ways. I must get away to see if this really is the person I’m becoming—whether I’m the cause of our difficulties, or if the person I’m becoming is caused by the difficulties—because of Edmund.”

“You seem to me as you always were—just a little sad, perhaps, but that’s perfectly reasonable given everything . . .”

“Given everything I’ve been through? Yes, I suppose it is reasonable, but that’s years ago now, Vinnie. It retreats further and further into the past every day. Not in some maudlin way, but more peaceful, more accepting. I miss them all now as much as I ever did, but it’s funny how I’m able to draw strength rather than grief from the memories. I was so proud to be back in the house, so sure of my ability to make a life for myself, to decide for myself. So I decided to marry Edmund. But having come so far, shouldn’t I be happy? Shouldn’t I like myself more? Shouldn’t Edmund and I be happier because of each other?”

“Yes, you should be very happy,” said Vinnie. “It grieves me to see that you’re not.”

“Then why am I not? Why all this doubt and turmoil? I can’t seem to fix on a reason except to blame myself. What should I have done? What should I have been? I turn it over and over in my head: What could have changed him so?”

“I don’t believe it’s you, Francesca. I really don’t,” said Vinnie in earnest, wanting to spill out everything she knew, but she dared not. Francesca must arrive at the conclusion by herself—with any luck—to end her engagement to Edmund. Yes, it was best for her to get away, and if Vinnie needed to push her along, she would do it. “I think you’re very wise. I’m sure things will become clearer if you put some distance between you and New York. And Edmund.”

“And that dreadful Irishman.”

“Mr. O’Casey? Has he been imposing himself on you?” This was an interesting prospect.

“Not exactly. But he does seem to emerge at the most inconvenient times. Every time I walk away from a conversation with him I’m more confused than I was before.”

“You don’t mean that you’re interested in him?”

“
Interested?
Good heavens, Vinnie, how can you suggest such a thing? I’m an engaged woman.”
Too quick an answer,
thought Vinnie,
and much too pat.

“That doesn’t mean you’ve had your eyes and ears cut out,” said Vinnie. “I think he’s nice, and he’s very funny. I like being around him. I always get the feeling I should be scared to death of him, but I’m not. Not at all.”

“Don’t tell me
you’re
interested in him.”

“Good gracious, Francesca, don’t be silly. Could you see
me
as Mrs. O’Casey? A scalawag and a parson’s daughter? Wouldn’t
that
be a scandal?” She paused and thought. “It’s funny, though. I can see him with you.”

“
Me?
Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you see what havoc he causes.”

“
I
like him. Don’t you?”

“I don’t dislike him. But you see what happens—the moment he’s even introduced into the conversation he creates absolute bedlam. I must go, Vinnie. Don’t you see?”

“Yes, I do see.”

“You don’t think I’m simply running away from a problem?”

“I don’t think you’re running from a problem as much as looking for a solution. I think you’re giving yourself a chance to consider your decision before . . .” Francesca looked up and searched Vinnie’s face. “Before it’s too late.”

“It’s not cowardly?”

“No. I think it’s wise.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Where?” Vinnie asked, trying not to grimace until she heard the answer. “I mean, of course you know I will. But where will we go?”

“I saw this advertisement in the newspaper some time ago when I was thinking about honeymoon venues,” said Francesca, pulling a leaflet and a dog-eared newspaper cutting from her pocket. “I’ve been carrying it around forever. It looks so interesting.”

“What? Baniff? Barnff? I don’t know how to pronounce it, let alone know where it is.”

“Banff, Vinnie. Read on.”

“The wilderness? Do we have to leave civilization altogether to be able to think?” Vinnie began to wonder what she had agreed to.

“No, look, Vinnie,” said Francesca as she shoved the leaflet into Vinnie’s hand. “I went to the booking agent’s just before I came here and inquired and they gave me this. It’s quite exclusive. The accommodation is first class—a new hotel. The Canadian Rockies are supposed to be breathtaking. I think it’s just the atmosphere I need—clear air and vigorous exercise. Spring must be beautiful there.”

“But it’s so far.”

“It’s no farther than Paris or Rome or Vienna. And it will be a whole different set of people, Vinnie, people with different tastes and interests and ideas.” There was relief in Francesca’s voice.

“I don’t doubt that.” Vinnie was dubious as she looked over the description of snow-capped mountains. “Just we two, alone?”

“I’ve thought about that. Do you remember my aunt Esther, Mother’s friend in Boston? I might persuade her to join us. May would come and tend to us and Aunt Esther would bring Rosemary. I’m sure Mr. Worth could help me hire a private car.”

Vinnie’s heart sank at the thought of the expense. Her family could by no means bear this expense, but Vinnie pressed on.

“When would we go?”

“Perhaps May. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.”

“How long would we be gone?”

“Six weeks, eight, ten, I don’t know. I’d love to get a good taste of summer.”

“I don’t know what Mama and Papa will say,” Vinnie said honestly.

“Well, one thing you can tell them for certain,” Francesca said, no doubt reading her friend’s thoughts. “You would be my guest. You can tell your parents I insist upon treating you. Are you game?”

“Oh, Francesca, I couldn’t. . . .” Vinnie could and would.

“You don’t sound so certain.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m just so surprised. I’m certain you’ve made the right choice. As for Banff,” she said, looking at the advertisement and dreading the prospect of a prolonged winter and a cold spring, “I hope you’re just as certain when you see all that snow.”

Francesca left before dinner. They agreed that Vinnie would not mention the plan to her parents until Francesca had secured Aunt Esther. Vinnie was not easy with this promise, however, especially with the silent burden of Edmund’s infidelity she would carry all the way to Banff. She decided to tell her parents, hoping that if they knew, Vinnie would gain her their support and encouragement.

Mr. Lawrence was home by now and in his study. Detaching her mother from the dinner preparations she went to the study and rapped lightly upon the door. Once inside, Vinnie tumbled everything out—the journey to Banff, Edmund’s behavior, Francesca’s self-doubt, Aunt Esther, Mr. O’Casey, and the terrible charge of Edmund’s affair with Mrs. Alvarado. It took much questioning before the facts lay in comprehensible order.

“This is a very serious charge you are leveling against Mr. Tracey, Lavinia,” her father said, “one for which there is no proof other than your observation. We have no way to permit Mr. Tracey to answer the charge without making him look as if he’s a condemned man already.”

“I know, Papa,” said Vinnie, who by now was in tears. “You have no idea how this weight has been pressing upon me. I’ve tried so hard not to say anything or cause Francesca any more distress. I haven’t said a word to a soul. I’m so glad you know.”

Mr. Lawrence rose from the desk and held his daughter, who fell sobbing on his shoulder.

“You’ve been a good friend, dear,” Mrs. Lawrence said, as she smoothed Vinnie’s hair and rubbed her back. “No one could ask for better. I must say, I’m proud of your forbearance, especially that you’ve been able to keep it from Anne and Michael.”

“Yes, I agree,” said her father. “You judged rightly to let Francesca draw any conclusion to break her engagement, not merely on a single piece of evidence that might be explained a hundred ways. Your mother and I will keep our eyes and ears open. If anything further comes to our attention, we will consult with Mr. Jerome, who is the one person who can be trusted to have Francesca’s very best interests at heart.”

“I thought about going to him. . . .”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You must focus your attention on your friend. You let us worry about Mr. Jerome. And if Francesca is able to convince Mrs. Gray to accompany you on this journey, then of course you must go.”

“Indeed,” said McNee, reading over Shillingford’s shoulder, then taking the letter from his hand. “Looks like I must purchase a ticket to St. Louis.”

“Yes, with all due speed,” said Shillingford. “I’ll take care of things here. I quite agree with Miss Neumann that we dare not lose Tracey now. I’ll wire her to confirm keeping someone on his tail—and I’ll wire our progress to Mr. Jerome.”