A-Splendid-Ruin(28)
“What’s wrong with Mother?”
Aunt Florence’s crying had quieted, but it was still audible. “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but she wished to speak to me, and I—”
“You didn’t. May, I told you!” Goldie pushed past me.
“Shin is with her—”
I started to follow Goldie into her mother’s room, but she closed the door in my face. Well, of course. I deserved that, though it hurt. I heard her low and furious murmur, Shin’s reply. I imagined what the maid must be telling her, and that was enough to send me to my bedroom, where I picked up my sketchbook. But I could only stare blankly at the pages, and the pencil felt foreign in my hand. I could think of nothing to draw.
Not long after, my aunt’s door opened and closed, and my cousin appeared at mine, which I’d left open in resigned expectation. “A word, May, if you don’t mind?”
She did not sound angry, which was a relief. She did not seem angry, either, only tired. There was a part of me that was reassured that her looks could suffer even as I braced myself for her scolding. “I’m so sorry. I promise it isn’t what it looks like—”
“What did she say to you?” Goldie stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
“I hardly know. She made no sense at all.” Except for the “I want you to go . . .” That had made perfect sense.
“You said she wished to speak with you.”
“It was all nonsense, Goldie. You were right. I should have listened to you and Uncle Jonny. I should have refused her.”
Goldie nodded thoughtfully. “What did you say to make her cry?”
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Never mind that. Why is she crying?”
“I don’t know. I—” I tried to remember something beyond that horror in her stare, that hard grip, the pinch of her nails. “I asked her about the letter. I—I thought she must have it, which is why I—why her—”
“What letter?” Goldie looked confused. Obviously she hadn’t seen the opened drawer, or Shin had said nothing of my intrusion.
“The one you told me my mother sent. The one that told you where I was. I’d hoped to read it. I hoped it might hold some answers—”
“About your father, you mean?”
“About anything,” I corrected with a short laugh.
“I don’t think the letter would help you, May. It was just ‘I’m ill and I’m worried about my daughter, and could you help her?’ There was nothing more, I don’t think. I never read it. She told us of it.”
“But Mama did say she was ill?”
Goldie nodded.
“Even that she didn’t tell me.” I took a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m sorry. Uncle Jonny promised to ask about the letter for me, and I should have just waited for him. I am impatient sometimes.”
“She’s resting now. The laudanum is really quite a miracle.”
“I’m glad.”
Silence fell between us. It felt awkward, as silence hadn’t in the time I’d known her.
I said, “How was the ice cream?”
“The ice cream?” She looked blank for a moment, and then laughed as if there were a joke in there somewhere I couldn’t see. “Oh yes, delicious, of course. Too bad you were sleeping.”
“You could have awakened me. I wouldn’t have complained.”
“Well, you were really quite drunk yesterday.”
Which only reminded me of the gossip in the Bulletin.
“Did you see the society news today?”
Goldie shook her head. “Why?”
“It mentions us at the Cliff House.”
Goldie squealed. “It does? Where is it?”
“It’s not very complimentary. It says we drank a lot of champagne and were a ‘jovial’ company.”
“Which is true.”
“And it also says that I’m the talk of the town ‘as usual.’”
“It does?” She raised a brow. “Well, well.”
“What should we do?”
“Do? What do you mean, ‘do’?”
“He said we were ‘conspicuously festive.’ Surely we can’t let him gossip about us in such a derogatory way.”
Goldie laughed. “Oh my dear May, tell me you’re joking. We’ve been mentioned in the Bulletin society news. Do you know how many people would do anything for that? It’s a triumph! Please don’t be a Mabel.”
She did seem truly happy about it. I told myself that I was, once again, too behind the times. Mama had always opined that real ladies were not gossiped about in the newspaper, but Mama had been from a different time and place, and so I allowed Goldie’s joy over the mention to erase my misgivings.
“If you make a fuss, you’ll just be telling everyone that you don’t belong,” Goldie said. “Is that what you want?”
It was most assuredly not. “Remember who you are.” “Well, I guess it’s something to celebrate then. Shall we?”
My cousin put a hand to her eyes. “Perhaps later. I’ve a ravishing headache.”
As she started to the door, I said, “Goldie, I am so very sorry about your mother. Not only because I upset her, but because she is . . . that way. I really am so sorry.”