Shadow of the Son, page 6
John Sr. and Anne were already down and chatting by the bar. I decided I could use a vodka tonic with a splash of gin. I went over to the Constable to gaze at it and reflect. One day I hoped I could simply relax and enjoy the ease of country life, but that seemed a distant possibility. For now, I was only too happy to forget the issues that consumed me and partake in the rituals that marked the Rhinebeck of my past.
Since tonight’s dinner was informal, it would be served at 7:15. That specific time was more the result of custom than anything else. Only formal affairs, like those of this coming weekend, would begin at 9:00. Yet in spite of tonight’s informality, I noted that John Sr., Johnny, and I each wore suits and ties, and Anne wore a black dress suitable for a fine dinner in the city. I supposed that too was habit, but by donning more formal attire, we assumed the manners that went with and a corresponding respect for the finer things in life that included civilized conversation and the delights of Dagmar’s kitchen.
While Johnny and his father chatted about markets, I went over and asked Anne, who was standing alone, how she had enjoyed her nap.
“Marvelously,” she said, turning towards me. “I sleep better in this house than any other. I don’t know why that is, but it has always been the case. I understand from John that we are to expect a number of guests this weekend.”
She was drinking a rather large whiskey, which was unusual. I decided not to comment.
I said, “I believe there will be ten of us, although I’ve not been able to extend all the necessary invitations. I presumed that you and John will attend, since you were planning to be here in any case.”
“Yes, we’ll most certainly be here. I doubt anyone will decline, and from the looks of it, I should think it has the potential of surpassing even our recent anniversary in the tension department. Will Elsa be coming?”
“She’ll receive her own invitation.”
“How very thoughtful. She loves a personal touch. I’m sure wild horses couldn’t keep her away.”
“She is a force unto herself, so how could I not?”
“Very wise. I also understand your father might be making an appearance.” Her lower lip quivered.
“Yes, that’s in the cards as well.”
“Stanley has agreed?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“He told me that the good of the house outweighs his personal feelings on the matter.”
Anne took a large gulp of her drink and sighed. There was hardly any left. “I suppose that’s something, although I can’t say exactly what.”
“Nor can I. I can’t really refuse my father’s arrival, considering what’s at stake. It’s one of the reasons that the guest list has expanded. Maw and Bonnie will hopefully be here as well.”
“John mentioned that. I’m glad you took his advice. I would also ask Dagmar how she feels about the matter. She will need to be seriously on her game this weekend. Not that I have any doubts, but she can sometimes be a bit free with her concoctions if she’s out of sorts and hasn’t been consulted.”
“Really? You know about those?”
“Oh, do I. Provoked, she makes Stanley look like a pussy.”
“A what?”
“Well, maybe that’s not the right word, but you get the idea.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Well, I suppose. I’m not breaking a promise … at least I don’t think I am. Although I did say to Dagmar that I wouldn’t mention it to anyone, but since she’s now your staff, I don’t see how I can simply not tell you. Perhaps we should stand over by the corner so I can see the door. Stanley has extraordinary hearing, and I would rather have him not overhear me telling you about it.”
Anne moved somewhat unsteadily to the far end of the room, and I followed. She placed me so she could look at the door over my shoulder. I wondered how much of her behavior was the result of drinking on an empty stomach, and how much was legitimate concern.
“I know you think I’m being silly, but if you’d seen what poor Charlotte looked like after she swallowed whatever it was Dagmar had prepared, you’d understand. The two had a falling out years before, but Dagmar remembered her. It was all rather shocking. I thought poor Charlotte might lose her mind permanently. She’d wander around at all hours of the day and night with the oddest expression on her face. She couldn’t sleep for months after, but there was nothing I could do because that was between her and Dagmar. I wasn’t about to interfere, I can tell you. Still, what happened was my fault, really. I thought I had run the guest list for that weekend by Dagmar, but I learned only afterward that I hadn’t. Silly me. Anyway, I only half-liked Charlotte to begin with, but still, it was uncalled for. I mean really. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh, yes, consulting Dagmar. One moment I was all set to do it and then poof! Gone. Just like that … right out of my head. You will remember to talk to her, won’t you?”
Anne squinted her eyes as she waited for me to say something, like she was trying to focus. She looked unnaturally pale and rocked gently back and forth and then side to side, like a tall tree in a shifting breeze.
“Of course I will. Are you feeling all right?”
“No, not really. Not really at all, in fact. I think I should sit down. I’ll take your arm, if you don’t mind.”
I helped her get seated on the couch and sat next to her.
After a moment to collect herself, she said, “I’m usually rather even-keeled, but this Lord Bromley business is upsetting. The thought of that man actually staying here this weekend has had me terrified ever since I heard of the possibility. Now that it’s confirmed, I feel physically ill. Have you consulted Dagmar about him?”
“Not yet. I intend to after dinner.”
“You must, but that’s quite beside the point.” She shook slightly and her voice rose. “Inviting that man and having him sleep in this house? Really, Percy, whatever are you thinking? Have you any idea of the consequences? Have you lost your mind? It’s … it’s …” Her lower lip quivered in earnest, and then she held her face in her hands before bursting into tears. Her shoulders shook until she shuddered and took hold of herself. In a soft voice she said, “I’m sorry. It’s … Do you have a handkerchief?”
John Sr. and Johnny had heard Anne’s outburst and had come quickly over to the couch. John Sr. sat down on her opposite side and took her hand. “Anne, whatever is the matter?”
“I need a hanky,” she replied.
Johnny provided one. She blew her nose loudly and balled it in her fist. “I must look a fright. To answer your question. This Lord Bromley business has unsettled me. John, can you take me upstairs? I need to lie down.”
John Sr. helped Anne get up from the couch and while keeping a hold of her arm, gently guided her to the door. When it closed behind them, Johnny asked me, “What the hell was that about?”
“I think it was the combination of a stiff drink on an empty stomach and news of my father’s arrival. When I confirmed he was coming, she said she felt ill.”
“What is it about this man? He hasn’t even arrived, and already there’s upset everywhere.” Johnny’s voice rose. “Everyone seems to have an issue with him. What will happen when he’s actually here?”
I looked at my friend. He was agitated in spite of our last conversation. I was sure it was due to his mother’s distress. Johnny and I had rarely seen her in such a state. I paused a moment and said softly, “I assume that’s a rhetorical question, but I’ll answer it. I don’t know what will happen. Nobody does, but he’s going to show up here because all of us need him to. He is both the problem and the solution. We must get a grip and put aside our feelings, myself included. This is a business transaction. Well, not completely. In my case, I need to see the man, even if it’s only to confirm that I’m not like him, but regardless of that outcome, we’re closing the deal by Sunday once and for all. You and I must keep that in mind even if everyone else can’t seem to.”
Johnny paused, took a breath, and seemed to come back into himself.
“Sorry, Percy. You’re absolutely right. I need to get a grip. This is business. Everything else is a distraction.”
“Yes, it is. You and I have had our share of dealing with all sorts of clients, even the trying ones. Wasn’t it you who pointed out that the more money the client had, the more demanding they are?”
“I did, but I think I said more of an asshole instead.”
“You did. We’ve completed some dicey transactions with several very hard cases to everyone’s satisfaction, and we will again. My father will likely be no different in that regard. I do hate to see your mom upset. I love her and seeing her distressed is the last thing I want. I’m sure she’ll be all right in the morning. You’ll see.”
Johnny smiled. “She will, of course. It’s times like this that tell me why you’re my partner. There’s hope for us yet.”
John Sr. entered and came over.
“She’ll be fine. I put her to bed. A good sleep will do her good. Sometimes that’s all you can do. Ah, there’s Stanley. It looks like it’s gentlemen’s night this evening.”
Stanley announced that dinner was served and held open the double doors to the dining room. The table had been arranged with three places at the end nearest the dining room doors and farthest from the kitchen. Stanley and his staff had adapted immediately to Anne’s absence without my having said a word. I sat at the head of the table, John Sr. to my left and Johnny to my right. Tonight, the place settings had white embroidered place mats, heavy silverware, and fine white china. Two large silver candelabras were all that lit the table, giving the dining room a restful orange-yellow glow. Each of us relaxed.
In the past, whenever I had felt cold and alone, Dagmar would seem to know. Her remedy at dinner time was always the same: Scotch broth followed by a savory beef stew. It always picked up my spirits. When Stanley served Scotch broth for the soup, I knew that stew would follow, and it did. It had been a grim day, and although I felt neither cold nor alone, I appreciated the thought. Both were exactly how I remembered. Together they filled me with warmth and a feeling of contentment. Because the portions were large and filling, small balls of raspberry sorbet completed the meal.
When we had finished eating, Johnny said he felt much better. I agreed. Even John Sr. was smiling.
“John,” I said, “I think we should retire to the library.”
“I quite agree,” he answered.
As the two filed out ahead of me, I caught Stanley’s eye and stayed behind to tell him that I would like to speak with Dagmar in a bit. In parting, I said, “Thank you for letting me know that I’m free to decide what to do. I’ve made the decision to invite my father rather than allow him to simply show up. In addition, there will be a total of nine guests this weekend, not including myself. Mrs. and Miss Leland as well as the three von Hofmanstals will be here. We should go over the arrangements at some point. You and I need a plan.”
“Tomorrow would be best for us to sit down together, Stanley said. “This weekend is likely to be unique, and such things are best taken up early in the day rather than late at night when our fears come to visit us more often than our hopes. I have spoken to Dagmar. She will be available when you’re ready.”
“Thank you. Is there anything I need to do about where I’m sleeping tonight?”
“All is prepared. You’re in the west wing. I will wake you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Stanley. If I don’t see you before the end of the evening, have a good night.”
“And you too, sir.” He seemed about to say something but refrained.
With that, I departed to the library.
12
“I met Lord Bromley in person some years ago. It was Hugo who introduced us,” said John Sr.
We had each settled into comfortable leather chairs. The ritual of pouring brandy and lighting cigars had finished, and John Sr. began.
“Percy, Anne was quite upset by the news that your father will be visiting and with good reason. Each of us has a history. I am hesitant to tell you the specifics, but both of you are mature enough, I think, to put aside any feelings you might have for her and recognize that Anne was once a young woman, likely no different than those you have met and gone out with. Sometimes that is difficult to appreciate. Age makes us appear worn out, but our hearts and minds are fundamentally the same.
“This weekend will be a test for all of us. It will be for me, for Anne, as you will discover, for Stanley, and for both of you. Some men are put on this Earth to test us. They overturn much of what we think is correct, appropriate, or even civilized. They grate upon our sense of rightness, and yet they are successful, and from all accounts, suffer only rarely. They overturn our ideas of divine justice, or even ordinary justice.
“In the financial world, we meet many of that type, and often have to work with them. We say we shouldn’t, and we would certainly rather not, but economics is remarkably democratic in that regard. We all must make a living, and I find it perverse that such personalities are often the very ones we must do business with.
“The maintenance of this house is a case in point. It takes money. Lots of it, and unfortunately those hardened souls are often the very people we need to deal with to make that happen. Nothing comes free, and it’s more a question of how far we will compromise our standards, rather than if we will. Such men are pitiless, and they will maneuver us to give away far more than we would like, and in many cases, far more than we can afford.
“To succeed, we often feel that we must beat them at their own game, which means that over time we end up looking in the mirror and see their image staring back. We turn hard, callous, and brutal because that is what’s required. We become what we despise the most as that other personality takes over our lives, including how we deal with family and with friends. I say this because Bromley is that kind of man, and to deal with him effectively you, Percy, will need to embrace a hardness I doubt you will enjoy. Do you understand that?”
I looked at John Sr. through the cigar smoke. “I can’t say I am prepared. The closer the time comes, the more anxious I seem to get.”
John Sr. nodded. “It will not be easy for you. The question is, must we become like them to defeat them and succeed? I don’t think so. There is an answer, and it has been around for some two thousand plus years. In all my looking, I have yet to find another. Do you know how the ancient Greeks dealt with bad men?”
“Tell me,” I said.
“There is an old, old story. It goes like this. A house was robbed. Several men were caught by the locals, but no one knew who specifically committed the crime. A wise man was asked to adjudicate who was responsible. He was well known by many and was considered a bit of a magician—at the very least he was thought to be blessed by the gods with an uncanny intuition. He gave each of the men a stick of wood of the same length. He told everyone present, including the suspects, that the stick of the guilty man would grow overnight by an inch or more as he slept. He had each placed in separate cells. In the morning, the wise man was easily able to identify the criminal.”
Johnny asked, “So, you’re telling us that the guilty man’s stick grew an inch like he predicted?”
“Quite the opposite, in fact,” answered John Sr. “The criminal had bitten off an inch, to be sure it hadn’t grown.”
“Very clever,” said Johnny.
“Very clever, indeed, but in that story lies your answer. We must outwit them rather than become them. And rest assured, Bromley is a bad man. I will now tell you of our meeting.
“It was some years back. Anne and I had been married for several years. I was at Hugo’s castle for a night on my way to a meeting in Geneva. I often stopped at Hugo’s, not only to see him, but as a means of breaking up a business trip and turning it into something more. Anne was with Elsa in Paris, and I was to meet her there when I completed my business.
“My first impression of Lord Bromley was that of an energetic man, who was both handsome and engaging. His clothing was immaculate; however, his manners were less so. When he learned my name as we were introduced, he scoffed and said, ‘You’re the man that married Anne? I would have expected her to do better.’
“Hugo told him to be civilized while in his house. The man shrugged and said, ‘You’re quite right, Hugo. Sorry about that, Dodge. Long trip.’ He turned and asked Hugo if his people could take care of his bags and show him to his room. Hugo saw to it and came back. We had been sitting in the main hall in front of the fireplace having a drink when we were interrupted by Bromley’s arrival. Hugo sat down and sighed. ‘I’m sorry about that, old friend. Bromley can be such an ass. He was supposed to arrive tomorrow. You will have to put up with him. Will that be a problem?’
“I’d known of him of course, but this was before I had learned the full extent of his dealings with my sister—well, I won’t go into it other than to say it was lucky I didn’t know it at the time. Had I known, I’m not exactly sure what I would’ve done. I guess I’ll find out this weekend, but our meeting then was without that knowledge, and I was willing to set aside the opinions of others and make my own.
“I remember being at once conflicted in his presence. He was so dapper, smooth, and magnetic. His apology was in all respects sincere and delivered in a way that only the English can pull off, like he had just committed a foul, but with the expectation that once apologized for in a civilized manner, it was meant to be forgotten. The odd part was that I went right along with it. I was repulsed, and yet I was curious. His comment about Anne was wounding, but what was absent, it seemed to me, was the deliberate intention to do so. It was odd, and I told Hugo that. Hugo shrugged and said that was Bromley.
“After a minute, I asked Hugo once again what Bromley was referring to with his comment about Anne, and Hugo looked wary. He knew something, but I could tell by his expression that he was reluctant to tell me. Now, Hugo and I, even at that time, had been friends for a long while. I have put my life in that man’s hands on several occasions. There is great trust between us, and we can be extremely frank with each other. He told me he would tell me, but only when I was leaving, not before. I answered that it was obvious that Bromley and Anne must have had an affair, or a relationship of some kind, and Hugo said rather cryptically that there are all kinds of relationships, some more wholesome than others. At that point Bromley entered the room.
