A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Eight
November, 1914
"Why, lookee there, 'tis a castle!"
Meg cried, craning her neck to gawk at Bannerman Island from the train window.
Rose barely turned her head. She'd seen the
replica of a Scottish castle hundreds of times in the nearly two years that she'd
been making the trek between Tarrytown and Poughkeepsie. In the beginning she'd
been fascinated by the ongoing construction: docks, magnificent turrets and
even a moat. Then Bill had informed her the patrols of armed guards were to
protect the enormous cache of weaponry stored inside the structure, and Rose's
romantic notions about the castle had soured.
Bill had teasingly suggested that they
"borrow" a canoe one night and sneak to the island for a closer
inspection. Rose had immediately shot down that idea. The very thought of
boating in a large body of water still paralyzed her with fear; she'd never
even ventured in the Scotts' swimming pool.
"It's not a home, it's a fortress,"
Rose informed Meg. "A place for a frivolous man with money to burn to store
his guns."
"You're puttin' me on!" Meg
squinted as if that would improve her view. "Sure, there must be ghosts
and goblins over there somewhere."
Ghosts and goblins. Rose had to smile at
that.
She was thankful Meg had finally taken her up
on her long-standing invitation to spend one of Rose's Saturdays off with her
on campus. She felt guilty for not seeing her friend often enough, and Meg had
a way of distracting her from her troubles, at least temporarily.
But then, on the trolley ride from the train
station, Meg began to speak of Teddy. "He still misses ya somethin'
terrible, Rosie. Never stops askin' after ya." Pause. "I suppose what
happened is none of me business, but I thought--"
"Oh, here's our stop!" Rose cried,
and yanked the pulley to signal the driver. As the women made their way toward
Vassar's gated main entry, she chattered about various local points of interest
to prevent Meg from mentioning Teddy again.
Because if she allowed herself to dwell on
Teddy, her thoughts would invariably turn to Sebastian.
He
had reverted to type after her birthday party. In the four months since he'd
kissed her and sent her emotions into a tailspin, she had not seen or heard
from him once. Without giving away her feelings, she hung onto Angelica's every
word about the mysterious man, but that soon grew tiresome. Her roommate didn't
see him much, either; most of what she passed along was gossip from members of
the troupe, trifling tidbits about some glamorous actress Sebastian was
escorting. Angelica, of course, was less than happy about it. Rose had finally
begun to tune her out.
Angelica was posing in front of her bureau
mirror, practicing her lines for an upcoming nativity play that would be
performed all in German, when Rose and Meg entered the room.
"Dammit, I forgot the next line!"
Angelica stamped a foot impatiently, not even turning from her reflection to
acknowledge them.
"Er...Angelica, this is my friend
Meg."
Angelica spun around. "Oh, I'm
sorry!" She rushed over, shifting the bundle in her arms so that she was
able to shake Meg's hand. "Very pleased to meet you. I've heard so much
about you, Rose talks about you all the time. Would you like to hear me
rehearse? Daddy thinks my German requires a lot more work."
"Well, I thought I'd take her on a tour
of the campus," Rose said quickly.
"Oh, there's no need to rush," Meg
interjected. "Is that a doll?"
"Why, yes." Angelica giggled and
adjusted the blanket she was holding to reveal a porcelain figurine with black
ringlets like hers. "My parents gave her to me when I was four. She's
playing the baby Jesus, for now. So which scene should I do?"
She was still reciting the lines for their
benefit fifteen minutes later when Vera made her customary entrance: a quick
tapping on the door followed by her walking in. Despite Angelica's repeated
threats to lock her out, Vera knew the door was usually unlocked during the day
if anyone was there.
Charlotte followed close behind. Her face
held a rosy glow--quite unusual for her, and quite attractive. Introductions
were made, and then Charlotte blurted out the news she'd obviously been
bursting at the seams to share.
"I think Arthur's going to
propose!"
Angelica squealed and embraced her, and Rose
and Meg clamored for the juicy details, but out of the corner of an eye Rose
glimpsed Vera's face, a gloomy, silent mask.
"I have just one question,"
Angelica said. "What color are the bridesmaid's gowns going to be?"
Charlotte laughed, a lilting musical sound
that was utterly foreign coming from her. Rose was amazed at the
transformation. "I think pale blue would be appropriate. Or perhaps
canary."
"Yellow, eck!" Angelica made a
face. "I'd look like a banana!"
Charlotte laughed uproariously over that.
Vera chose that moment to break her silence.
"It's a little premature to be doing any color coordination, don't you
think?" she asked sullenly. "You don't even have a ring."
The smile disappeared from Charlotte's lips.
She and her roommate stared each other down angrily, then, to everyone's shock,
the normally reserved, timid girl turned on Vera with a vengeance.
"You just can't be happy for me, can
you?" she demanded furiously. "No man will put up with your shrewish
behavior and it kills you, doesn't it?"
Angelica stifled a giggle. Rose nudged her
and spoke, loudly, "Meg, why don't we go take a look at the sculptures I'm
working on?"
"Don't leave on my account,"
Charlotte snapped, still not taking her steely eyes off Vera's. "I'm going
out anyway." With a defiant toss of her head, she stormed out of the room,
throwing a final dart in Vera's direction. "My fiancé is taking me to
luncheon."
No one looked at each other in the seconds
that followed. Rose was gathering her coat and reticule when Vera addressed
her. "May I speak to you privately for a moment?"
They went into her room. Vera closed the door
and began to speak in an urgent, hushed tone. "We must do something about
Charlotte. I'm terribly worried about her."
"Why? She seemed absolutely giddy to
me."
"That's just it. This Arthur, he has her
thinking he's the sun, moon, and stars--forgive me for speaking in astronomical
terms here--and the rest of her life is going straight to hell. She doesn't
spend any time studying and her grades are pathetic. She's even talking about
not coming back next year! I'm not jealous like she said, Rose. This is
serious."
"Well, if this is what she
wants..."
"It's what she thinks she
wants." Vera took a deep breath. "What I'm about to tell you is in
the strictest of confidence, all right?"
Rose nodded, dreading what she was about to hear.
"Charlotte believes this Lothario is
going to marry her," Vera continued, "because she's already given
herself to him." At Rose's incredulous stare, Vera solemnly nodded.
"It's true, Rose, she told me just last week. But it's been going on for
some time." She sank into a chair and Rose did the same.
"I've been covering for her all semester
while she's been traipsing down to West Point. You know, according to
regulations we're only allowed four visits to the Academy per year, and only
with a chaperone. She's been averaging four visits a month."
"Have you ever gone with her?"
"A few times, but you know how I feel
about the military culture." Like all of Vera's opinions, Rose was well
versed on that subject.
"Besides," Vera added, "I
don't much care for Arthur. There's something...slippery about him."
"I see." Rose saw more than she
cared to admit. She'd met Arthur and though he was exceedingly polite, his eyes
had strayed to her cleavage so often it made her uncomfortable.
"And after last weekend," Vera said,
"I'm certain he's no good."
Rose raised her eyebrows.
"Mr. Reynolds came to campus last Sunday
for a surprise visit," Vera explained. "Only Charlotte wasn't here.
She'd sneaked off to West Point Saturday and hadn't returned."
"Oh, dear."
"I stalled him by telling him she was at
the library and would be in any moment, but he knew something was wrong.
He finally called Miss Henderson into the parlor and demanded to know where his
daughter really was, and at that moment Charlotte walked in. I've never seen
her look as frightened as she did then. Rose, I can't keep up this charade any
longer. We'll both get in trouble."
"But what can you do? She's made up her
mind."
"You don't still think he's going to
marry her, do you?"
The door suddenly swung open and Angelica
waltzed in, followed by an embarrassed Meg. It was tough to tell how much
they'd heard, but judging from Angelica's smug expression, it was plenty.
"Haven't you ever heard of
knocking?" Vera barked at her.
"I'm only imitating you," Angelica
retorted. She turned to Rose. "Meg here has been wondering what's keeping
you. It was pretty rude of you to abandon her so you could come over here and
gossip."
"We're not gossiping--" Rose began,
but Angelica wouldn't allow her to finish. "Vera's so envious of
Charlotte's good fortune that she has to spread vicious lies about her."
"Do you know where she was last
Saturday?" Vera asked pointedly.
"And what of it? Some of us like to have
a man's arms around us."
Vera stood and faced Angelica. "How
would you know? When was the last time Sebastian's arms were around you?"
Angelica's face darkened, and for a horrible
moment Rose feared she'd have to break up a catfight. But Angelica knew a
losing battle when she saw one.
"I won't be insulted," she stated
and left, slamming the door in her wake.
Vera laughed bitterly. "She comes
barging in here and insults me, and then gets offended when I return the
favor?"
"We really must be going," Rose
said.
"You needn't worry about yer
friend," Meg offered. "In a year's time she'll be happily married,
you'll see."
Vera opened her mouth as if to give a
sarcastic comeback, but then a memory dawned. "You're the same Meg that
just got married last spring, aren't you? Where are my manners?
Congratulations." The words were stilted, but Meg was gracious.
"Rose tells me you're still working as a
nurse. Good for you. No woman should have to give up her profession for her
husband."
"Well...'tis only 'til the first little
one is born."
"We'll talk later, Vera," Rose
promised, anxious to lure Meg away before Vera could draw her into a debate on
women's roles.
They walked quietly toward the building that
housed the art classrooms, the only sound the crunching of dead leaves beneath
their shoes. Finally, Meg ventured a comment.
"That was certainly...enlightening."
"I'm sorry you had to witness all of
that," Rose said.
"Y'know, when you left me alone with yer
roomie, all she did was gloat over how Vera had it coming to 'er, what
Charlotte said. Why are yer friends so miserable? They're good lookin', they're
educated, and they're rich as sin!"
"Money can't buy happiness."
"Amen to that! But I do believe
Charlotte's found a source of it."
"Maybe."
Meg stopped and took Rose by the shoulders,
looking her squarely in the eye. "All right, Rosie, 'fess up. Your low
mood wouldn't have anythin' to do with Teddy, now would it?"
"Teddy?"
You miss him, dontcha?" Meg clasped
Rose's hands. "Oh, this makes me so happy! Soon's I set foot back in New
York, I'm goin' over to see him straightaway--"
"No!" Rose cried, loudly enough so
that a pair of students passing in the opposite direction gave them a wide
berth. "You'll do no such thing, not if you're truly my friend."
Meg dropped her hands and took a step back.
"I've always been yer friend, Rose. And that's why I don't understand you
pushin' me cousin away. He's a good man and he wanted to marry ya."
"But I don't want to get married now,
Meg. I have another year and a half of school left, and my studies are going so
well. My professors all say I may be able to make a living as an artist."
"Most artists are lonely," Meg
replied. "You'll be like them two back there, an old maid takin' out yer
frustrations on other folk."
Rose had nothing more to say. She silently
turned away from her friend and marched on to her destination. Though she knew
that the sting of Meg's words would soon wear off, she was also aware that a
crucial turning point in their friendship had been reached, and there would be
no going back.