Skirting Tradition Read online

  “Good evening, Victoria!” Mrs. Boyd was halfway up the walk before Victoria knew she was there.

  “Christine!” Victoria jerked her hand back.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, of course. Well ... no, not exactly.” Victoria paused. “Truthfully, I don’t know!”

  Her face full of concern, Christine examined Victoria’s eyes but said nothing. Instead, she leaned over the marble face. “Exquisite,” she breathed, “absolutely amazing. How do they do it?”

  “I was just wondering the same. I wish ... I need ... oh, I don’t know what I’m talking about! Just ignore me.” Victoria was horrified to find that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  “My dear.” Christine took Victoria’s arm. “Let’s go sit over here.” She motioned to a garden bench.

  “I’m so sorry ...”

  “No, don’t apologize. I had the strangest feeling I should come see you. What is distressing you so?”

  “I really don’t know. Well, maybe I do ... When the crates arrived Tuesday, I was so excited to see the exquisite figures—and they’re still beautiful, of course—but look at them here.” Victoria swept her arm around. “They might as well be abandoned in a desert!”

  “Where would you put them? Anyplace in the world, where would you put them?”

  “In England, without a doubt. In the garden of a great country house surrounded by ancient trees and centuries-old shrubs. I’d make these graceful figures the focal point of a lush garden, layer upon layer of texture and color. Oh, Christine, can’t you just see it? I’d circle the fountain with dwarf boxwood and create a parterre design to fill with tall, upright tulips in the spring, billowing petunias in the summer, and vibrant pansies in the fall. And then I’d work out from that circle and plant azaleas and rhododendrons and hydrangeas in matching beds on each side. This sculpture, this level of art, deserves a setting like that.”

  “Yes, it does. Why don’t you do just that? Why don’t you make a bit of England right here in Riverford, Texas?”

  “You can’t be serious! Look at this place. It’s almost arid.”

  “I see some old live oaks and several mature magnolias. There’s plenty of land; the soil can be amended. But most of all, I see you, an artist who can envision beauty in aridity and a determined woman who can make anything happen.” Christine paused, then added, “I also see a woman who needs to create, a woman who needs surroundings that nourish her.”

  Tears strayed down Victoria’s cheeks again, but this time they fell gently. “Yes,” she whispered. “I feel like I’m drying up here. I love Hayden, but after twenty years in England ... well ... Riverford is barren. It’s a wasteland in every way. There’s no culture, no beauty, no refinement.”

  “So make those things here, Victoria.”

  “Is that what you did, Christine? You know, you mystify me. You are one of the most talented pianists I have ever heard. How can you stand being stuck here? What a shock after Charleston!”

  “My music is enough. Just placing my hands on the keys and allowing the music to flow out from my fingertips, that is enough for me.”

  “Did you never dream of being on stage? Of traveling all over the world?”

  “Yes, I dreamed, but I’ve always played in solitude, in fact, often in secrecy. Mother and I were in hiding for many years while Father was imprisoned after the War. The so-called ‘Reconstruction’ was not the same in Charleston as it was here in Texas. We were hated, despised by the federal troops who occupied our fair city—at least, what was left of it.”

  “You are right. We never faced that. We just waited for our men to come home. They were broken and some died, but we were not invaded. You were just a child, weren’t you?”

  “Yes. I was ten when Mother and I were driven out of our home by the Yankees. The Confederate troops had managed to hold the city for years, but no one could stop the incoming bombardment from Union ships. In time, the shells destroyed the house: a special target because it was the beloved home of General Gibbes.”

  “You had to run?”

  “To the countryside, to relative after relative, and finally, as all our relatives’ homes were burned, we fled upriver to the Boyds’ plantation. If it had not been for Richard Boyd, we should not have survived. Father was on trial for his life, and even after he was stripped of all his property and had served over five years in prison, they did not release him.”

  “So you married Richard Boyd and came to Riverford out of necessity?”

  “No. When Father was finally released, we made plans to come to Texas to reclaim the property that Father had protected by deeding it to Richard.” Christine rose and walked a few feet away. “We did not know Mother was sick; she had hidden her illness well during all those frightening years. Her death was a great shock to Father and to me. After we buried her, we left Charleston and came to Texas. In time, I fell in love with Richard. He was older, but he understood me because he understood Charleston.” Christine turned to face Victoria. “And no one else, other than Father, did.”

  “And you made a bit of Charleston here?”

  “As much as I could. We keep to the old traditions, and we surround ourselves with grace and beauty. I’m so glad you are here, Victoria! I know it’s hard to see, but there is an oasis of culture here in Riverford. It is sparsely populated, but it is here. You are going to be such an asset!”

  Victoria stood and walked back to the carved face of Thalia, with Christine trailing behind her. “I don’t want this fountain over there in the side yard!” she blurted out. “I want it dead center in front of this house. I am going to build my English garden around it.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’m going to fill this house with music and art and books ... and love, lots of love.”

  Christine hugged her. “Whatever you want, Victoria. I’ll help in any way I can. It will all be good for this village that thinks it’s a town. Just don’t ever think of leaving us.”

  “Poor Hayden!”

  “Lucky Hayden, blessed Hayden. He adores you, everything about you.”

  “His adoration is about to face the challenge of the century. Mother is coming to look him over.”

  “Yes, I heard, but you have nothing to worry about. She’ll like everything about him.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Victoria sighed. “Her problem will be liking me.”

  ***

  Sarah was certain that Miss Victoria’s anxiety over her mother’s visit was exaggerated until the moment Mrs. Imogen Lindsay Atkins saw the elegant fountain centered in front of the house and stopped in her tracks.

  “Oh, Victoria, tell me you have not brought this monstrosity over here,” Mrs. Atkins exclaimed. “It looks absolutely pagan! Who are these figures cavorting around anyway?”

  “Three of the Greek muses, Mother. This one is—”

  “I don’t want to know! Surely you don’t intend to leave this thing here in the middle of the yard!”

  “It’s the focal point of a new garden I’m planning. See, Mother, I’ve already planted the ring of dwarf boxwood—”

  “Spare me the details, Victoria. You always were so impractical.” She turned to Mr. Hayden, “What a tolerant man you are to put up with this vagrant child.”

  “Mother, I am forty-two.”

  “There’s no need to advertise the fact.” She dismissed Miss Victoria with a wave of her hand and proceeded up the walk, followed by a young woman Sarah assumed was Miss Victoria’s half-sister, Amelia.

  When Mrs. Atkins found Sarah waiting at the bottom of the steps, she stopped again. “Who is this?” she demanded as she raised a lorgnette to her eyes and scrutinized Sarah.

  “Mother, may I present my secretary, Miss Sarah Novak?”

  “No, you may not! ‘Secretary,’ indeed! If she’s your lady’s maid, call her that.” She turned to Mr. Hayden. “Victoria has always had the most peculiar sensibilities. I blame her father; he treated her like a princess. Absolutely ruined her.”

/>   Sarah blushed, and Miss Victoria opened her mouth to protest, but Mr. Hayden intervened. “Won’t you and Amelia come into the house?” He offered Mrs. Atkins his arm. “I’m eager to show you our home. My parents built it after the War, and it’s a bit dated now, but we’ll make every effort to ensure your comfort.”

  “Oh, I’m the easiest woman on earth to please,” Mrs. Atkins assured him. “But I must have a bath before I can tour the house. Trains are so terribly public these days. Such people!”

  “Mother, we did have a first-class compartment,” Amelia said.

  “Well, of course we did, Amelia. We would hardly travel with the riffraff, but one can’t avoid the masses in the stations. Most disagreeable.” She swept past Sarah, but Amelia paused and extended her hand.

  “Hello,” she whispered. “I’m Amelia. Don’t mind Mother. She’s just ...” Amelia rolled her eyes and finished, “Mother.” She squeezed Sarah’s hand and grinned at her.

  Miss Victoria was the last of the party to reach the stairs. “She hasn’t changed a bit,” she murmured to Sarah. “Be sure everything is perfectly ready for tea. The scrutiny has begun.”

  “This too shall pass,” Sarah whispered, “just like Mr. Hayden said.”

  A half an hour later, she had her doubts. Mr. Hayden rushed into the drawing room and begged Sarah to go upstairs to assist Miss Victoria. When she approached the guest bedroom, carefully prepared for Mrs. Atkins, she heard that lady’s distinctly arrogant tone as she complained to her elder daughter. “Really, Victoria, is this the best you can do? A household maid to wait on your sweet sister and your mother?”

  “Delphie is quite experienced, Mother.”

  “Well, she won’t do, and that is that.”

  “I’ll be glad to help, Mrs. Atkins,” Sarah offered as she entered the room. “Shall I unpack for you—”

  “And exactly what are your credentials to be my lady’s maid?”

  “She did a great job of unpacking my trunk, Mother,” Amelia lied as she breezed into the room. “Everything is in perfect order.”

  “Well, in that case, I suppose you may proceed, Sarah, and you’ll need to press my gray silk for dinner. Or maybe I should wear the beaded black. I’m not sure.” She turned to Miss Victoria. “How many guests are you expecting for the dinner party tonight, Victoria? Anyone important?”

  “No guests tonight, Mother. I thought you would be tired.”

  “Absurd! It’s not that far from Galveston. I should have thought you would have arranged a welcome dinner for your sweet sister and your mother. But never mind. I’m the last one in the world to complain.”

  “Actually, I have planned a dinner party for tomorrow night, and yes, there are some prominent citizens coming, but tonight I thought you would prefer a quiet family affair. I know I would enjoy getting to know Amelia better.”

  “Any good-looking men?” Amelia whispered to Sarah, who shook her head as inconspicuously as possible.

  “You amaze me, Victoria.” Mrs. Atkins’ tone was acid. “You abandoned your family twenty-five years ago, and now we’re to have cozy family dinners. Well never mind; I can hardly expect reason from you, can I? What time is dinner?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “Victoria, this is Texas, not Europe. Dinner will be at seven.”

  “If you prefer that,” Miss Victoria conceded coolly, “since this is your first evening with us. It’s only fair to give you time to adjust. Tomorrow night, however, dinner will be at eight.” She turned to go. “Hayden and I will be awaiting you in the drawing room, Mother. I’m sure you would enjoy a nice cup of tea.”

  “No, I’m not coming down. Send a tray up here.” Mrs. Atkins unbuttoned the bodice of her traveling suit. “Sarah, untie my corset strings and go draw me a bath. This place is deplorably dusty. When is the last time you had this house cleaned, Victoria?”

  “This morning,” Miss Victoria answered as she continued toward the door. “I’ll have Delphie bring you a tray. Will you be joining us, Amelia?”

  “Don’t stand there, Sarah!” Mrs. Atkins interrupted. “Untie these laces at once.”

  Sarah rushed forward to relieve Mrs. Atkins, who sighed as the laces loosened.

  There was a soft knock on the door just as Miss Victoria reached it. Hayden thrust a large bouquet of flowers into her hands. “Mrs. Boyd brought these for Mother Atkins. She’s downstairs. Shall I ask her to join us for tea?”

  “Certainly,” Miss Victoria answered before closing the door and turning to present the flowers to Mrs. Atkins. “For you, Mother, from Mrs. Boyd.”

  “Oh, how beautiful,” Amelia exclaimed as she rushed forward and took the bouquet. “Just look, Mother!”

  “Who on earth is Mrs. Boyd?” Mrs. Atkins demanded as she slipped into her silk robe.

  “The banker’s wife,” Miss Victoria answered.

  “Hmph! Banker’s wife. Has the woman no manners, calling so soon after our arrival?”

  “Perhaps her manners have been tainted by her youth in Charleston,” Miss Victoria quipped.

  “Charleston? The woman is from Charleston?”

  “She is Christine Gibbes, daughter of General Gibbes, the commander of the—”

  “I know who General Gibbes is, thank you very much. Quick, Sarah! Get my corset. Victoria, for heaven’s sake, don’t just stand there. Go entertain the lady until I join you. I can’t think why you all insisted I undress and stay up here.”

  Miss Victoria pinched her lips together and left.

  ***

  By bedtime, Sarah was more exhausted than she had ever been on the farm but too upset to retire to her bed in the seamstress’ room. Instead, she wandered out onto the verandah and found Mr. Hayden sitting in the dark, smoking a pipe. “No wonder Miss Victoria left home!” Sarah exclaimed as she plopped down on the top step.

  “I have decided,” he answered gravely, “that my wife is a saint.”

  “I already knew that.”

  He laughed lightly. “Of course you did. You’ve experienced her heart of gold firsthand.”

  “I feel just awful for her. How on earth is she going to put up with weeks of Mrs. Atkins?”

  “One minute at a time ... one minute at a time.” Mr. Hayden moved from the wicker chair and joined Sarah on the step. “But frankly, I’m worried about her, Sarah. Mother Atkins is ghastly.”

  “Why is she so mean to Miss Victoria?”

  “Have you ever heard of a whipping boy, Sarah?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, in the European courts, a prince couldn’t be whipped for his misbehavior because he was a prince, so they had a boy at court who took the whippings for the prince.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, and my theory is that Victoria was the whipping boy in the Lindsay family.”

  “But who was the prince?”

  “Probably General Lindsay, Victoria’s father. I’m just guessing, but I suspect that Mother Atkins hated her first husband, Victoria’s father.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but I bet we will find out. Mrs. Atkins hasn’t stopped whipping Victoria, and she’s sure to spill the truth in one of her diatribes. You’ll be the one who hears it; she’ll never allow herself to behave that way around me.”

  Sarah sighed and slumped forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “I don’t know how to help.”

  “Just being here helps, Sarah. You’ll be able to deflect some of that woman’s cruelty away from Victoria. Sorry to say, her anger will land on you instead, of course.”

  “I’m not looking forward to that.” Sarah shuddered.

  Lost in their private thoughts, they both fell silent. Moments passed as Mr. Hayden smoked and Sarah thought about her brief but life-changing sojourn with Miss Victoria as her mentor. Suddenly she popped up, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. “Miss Victoria has been the best thing that ever happened to me, and I won’t allow that woman to hurt her if I can help it!”

  Mr. Hayd
en knocked the ashes out of his pipe and held out his hand to Sarah. “We’re mounting a defensive campaign starting right now. Shake on it!” Sarah vigorously shook his hand as he continued. “Here’s the plan. I’ll be here with Victoria every minute I can, but Mrs. Atkins will most likely abuse her while they’re upstairs.”

  “I will take over the defense there.”

  “Good, just be careful what you say, Sarah, or you’ll cause Victoria more trouble than she already has.”

  “I’ll be sweet, disgustingly sweet. I’ll wait on her hand and foot.”

  “I think Amelia could be an ally in our campaign.”

  Sarah remembered Amelia’s lie about the unpacking. “Maybe. I’m not sure yet; let’s wait and see.”

  “Whatever you think.” Mr. Hayden rose. “As for now, we better get to bed. Heaven only knows what tomorrow will bring. Good night, Sarah.”

  Sarah stared up at the stars and thought about her little attic room at the farm. “I guess every place and every life has its problems. Of course, Maude would call them opportunities. She would talk a lot about choice.” She turned and looked back at the grand house. Apparently, money didn’t protect you from having to make really hard choices like Miss Victoria made. Like I’m trying to make.

  CHAPTER 12

  The minute a shaft of morning sunshine struck her face, Sarah’s eyes flashed open and she sat up in bed, causing the books she had surrounded herself with to fly to the floor. “Oh no! What time is it?” she asked the walls of the tiny seamstress’ room as she swiveled and plopped her feet on the floor.

  With her first hurried steps, she stubbed her toe on a book, then, heart sinking, she picked it and its companions up and sat back down on the bed. “You fell asleep after the dinner party,” she accused herself. “You promised yourself you would read Wordsworth—”