The Fairmounts, page 8
“Harry was just talking to the baby,” Lois said, smiling as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Turning ever so quickly, Mary ran down the hall, her footsteps pounding behind her.
“Whatever in the world . . .” I cried as I hurried after her.
“Mary!” I shouted, running after her down the large spiral staircase. “Mary!” Catching her fleeing out the front door, I grabbed her shoulders and swung her around. “Whatever is the matter?”
She burst into tears, which began flowing down her face. “Let me go,” she pleaded.
“Why?” I asked. Wrenching herself from my grasp, Mary turned and ran for the trees that surrounded the property. The very trees that I saw the first time I arrived at Huntington House. She ran swiftly, as though a beast had possessed her. Fearing harm would come to her, I raced after her in pursuit. Looking over her shoulder, she saw me and ran faster. She would soon traverse the clearing and be lost in those trees forever.
I chasing and Mary fleeing, we entered the dark canopy as the trees rose above us like soldiers at attention. Their closeness prevented any sun from coming through, and immediately we were thrust into a strange twilight. The cold air wound itself around my lungs, and I could feel my heart beating in my chest. Closing the gap between us, I watched Mary hop over fallen trees and branches like a wild thing. Farther and deeper I chased her into the forest. Darker and closer the trees stretched out around us, branches reaching and grabbing at our clothing. I could feel the sting of vines tearing my trousers and swiping at my legs and arms. I could hear Mary’s belabored breath, never ceasing. Rhythmic. We were running farther and farther away from Huntington House, out in the darkness, into the unknown.
In my mind, I vowed I would not let her escape. This had now become a game of prey. My senses overtaking me, I leaped down upon her as some thorns acting as my allies grabbed her skirt. Toppling Mary to the ground and pinning her shoulders down on the wet earth, I searched her wild face for a reason to explain her running. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.
“I’d let you go, but you’d run away again,” I said in between gasping breaths. “This was a foolish thing to do, Mary. There are wild beasts in the woods. You could be hurt.”
“I am hurt!” she cried. I released my hold, thinking it was the weight of my body that was causing her pain.
“I just wanted you to stop running,” I said, sitting up. Mary lay there staring at the trees above her, placing her arm over her forehead, gasping for air, her heart pounding. I stared at a bewildered Mary.
“How are you hurt?” I asked, struggling to restore my breath to a normal rhythm.
“You,” she gasped.
“Can you get up? Do you need a doctor?” I asked in a panic, thinking I might have harmed her by tackling her to the ground.
“You. You broke my heart,” she said simply.
“How in the world did I break your heart?” I stared at her, confused.
“You don’t love me.” I wondered if she had overheard the conversation between Lois and me, but remembering I had seen Mary in the rose garden, I quickly concluded it was not possible.
“You only love Lois. Everyone always chooses Lois!”
I burst into laughter. Standing up, I wiped the dirt and branches from my trousers. I offered my hand to help Mary up. “You are foolish!” Grabbing my arm, she began to rise. “You ran all this way because I love Lois.” Steadying her on her feet, I started to remove the twigs and leaves from her hair. “Yes, I love Lois. I have never, nor will I ever, deny that. She is my entire heart.” Taking a deep breath, I sensed Mary would have run off again and placed my arms around her waist to prevent her.
“I love Lois,” I began, in as soft a voice as I could muster. “I love Lois because she is my only family left in the world. I love Lois because I’ve known her my entire life. I love Lois because she knows my deepest, darkest secrets and will always keep them. I love Lois with every fiber of my being and always will.”
“There is no room for anyone else,” Mary whispered. Releasing her, I took a step back. “You have no room for anyone else in your heart, Harry LaCroix,” she said accusingly. “There is only Lois. There is no room for me. No room for any woman besides Lois.”
“Mary Whitcombe, you are jealous of my aunt!” I laughed again as the thought was doubly absurd. “You are jealous.” And placing my hand under my chin, I began to pace as if in court before a jury of trees. “You are afraid that because of my familial feelings of love and admiration for my Aunt Lois—the very aunt who is married to the dashing and wealthy John Fairmount, whom I am told every woman is in love with, and is currently expecting his child, I might add—because of these feelings there is no room for another woman in my life.”
“Yes!” Mary screamed and, stepping toward me, her finger pointing, said, “I have told you of my affections for you, Harry LaCroix. I have kissed you and pined for you and waited for you every weekend to come here to spend time with me. I have taken countless walks with you in gardens and sat under trees and have done nothing to rebuff you, and yet you offer me nothing!” Her arms collapsing to her sides, she looked down at her feet with her hands balled into fists. “There is nothing that you have offered me, Harry. You don’t come for me. You come for Lois.”
Stepping forward, I grabbed her hands and held them, bringing them between us. “Mary,” I said softly, “there are no other women in my life outside of you and Aunt Lois. I am a very simple man, Mary. I have spent too many years as a soldier in faraway places. I have seen horrors of war that I try desperately to forget. You think me pure of heart, but I am not. I just know there are limits to things, to character, to actions . . . There are things I will and will not do, and if that has made you believe that I have rebuffed you or given you cause to worry about my affections, then I can only apologize to you.
“After the war, I moved about. Buried myself in books, buried myself in universities, buried myself in my work—I buried myself in an effort to forget. I have barely spent a year as a junior solicitor. I won my very first case just this week. It was in the paper. Imagine that?”
Mary was unmoved.
“Mary, I live in a boardinghouse. Things are managed for me. There’s a lovely woman who irons my shirts and does my wash, and there’s another who comes and cleans my room. I don’t know what to offer you right now. I just have myself. But in time, I may be able to offer that cottage and that stream you talk so much about. I understand that you are frustrated, Mary. Those walks in gardens and days under trees, they meant something to me, Mary. They were not a waste of time. At least, not to me. I have . . . I have enjoyed them greatly. And getting to know you greatly.” Still holding her hands, I placed them over my heart. “If you need to talk with me, talk with me. Don’t run off to the forest. Don’t run to the trees. Look up, Mary.” And here we both looked up at the trees that soared above us. “See how they arch and hide the sun? They obscure the view of heaven. They prevent the soul from flying. Don’t hide in the darkness; darkness does not provide safety.”
Mary stood still. “You sound like Sister Ann,” she said.
“Did you run away from the convent regularly?” I asked jokingly.
“I did,” Mary said. “In full confession, I did. Was there nothing left for you when you returned from the war?”
“No. There was never much. When I was a child, my mother and I lived off the charity of Aunt Lois and her mother. Drifters really. Just the two of us.” I swallowed hard and, looking at Mary’s hands in mine, I made my confession. “My mother fell in love with a sailor when she was very young. The only thing he left her with was me—his bastard son. I was judged harshly by everyone in the world but Lois. The world does not care for bastard sons regardless of how pure-hearted or intelligent they are. I’ve hidden that fact, and only you and Lois know.”
Here, I took another breath and Mary stayed silent. “When the summertime came, my grandparents would fetch me and bring me to their estate. Sins of the mother not reflecting on the son, and such. I looked forward to the summer. I was fed and dressed and cared for, and I had Lois as my friend.” I released Mary’s hands and wiped a single tear that fell down my cheek as I tried desperately to maintain my composure. “My mother died while I was in Africa. There was no reason for me to return. Lois was still gallivanting through Europe. She buried my mother in France on a hillside somewhere. I’ve never seen it. My mother was living in France at the time.
“It was when Lois married John and settled here that I received her letter to come. Lois, I hope you come to understand, has always saved me. She was my protector, my guide, my guardian. All the years I have known her, she has never once broken a promise to me, nor I to her. She’s the keeper of all my secrets and I of hers. I hope you come to understand, Mary, you have nothing to fear from Lois. I hope you will keep my secret now as well.”
“I fear, Harry, that your confession may have come too late. I have already lost myself.”
“Mary,” I said, “you are right here. You are not lost. You are with me. I am here.” And holding her hands again, I kissed them. “Come, it will be dark soon. I fear what might find you in these woods on your own. Come back with me to Huntington House, will you?”
“And back to what?” Mary said in a whisper.
“You don’t like it there now?” I asked curiously.
Shaking her head, she said, “Harry, I did not know about your past and Lois.” She looked down at the ground. “Things have changed since . . .”
I noticed a nervousness about her and, trying to help her express her thoughts, I said, “Since the baby is coming? It will be soon now. Just seven more weeks’ time. I know it must be hard with Lois restricted to her bed but soon my nephew will be here, and it will be chaotic in a different way. And I hear,” I began, putting my arm around her shoulder, “that you may have been spotted rocking in a chair pretending he already has arrived. Perhaps you’re just anxious? Truth be told, Mary, I am anxious. This will be a new family member. And babies—oh, they hold such promise. I will be his uncle. Well, in my world, I will serve as uncle. Do you think I’ll be a good one?”
Mary did not move but looked down at her feet with an indescribable look of guilt.
Searching her face, I asked, “Is there something you need to tell me? Is there something you need me to talk to Lois about? Are you not being treated well? I can talk to Lois. I think this little run has established that Lois and I are thick as thieves.”
She shook her head, and squeezing her shoulder, I kissed her hair. “You have nothing to worry about, Mary. It will be fine. I am here. I will always be here. I promise. I keep my promises.”
“I can go back now,” she said softly. With her hand in mine, I slowly led her out of the woods. It impressed me how far in we had gone, and were it not for my military training, I fear we might have been lost for days. But something compelled me, drew me forward from the woods to Huntington House. It was as if there was a force—no, a light—that flickered through the trees. I was a moth seeking its flame. It was close to half an hour at our slower pace before we emerged from the woods. Across the clearing, the grand estate loomed before us, solitary against the sky. Mary began to shiver as we approached, and I took my jacket and placed it around her shoulders with my arm around her to keep her warm.
“You are a good man, Harry,” she said. “Probably better than I deserve.” I kissed her forehead again and led her back home like a wayward child.
To my great surprise, it was John whom I found on the top of the steps with a cigarette in one hand and a rolled-up newspaper in the other.
“You both look like you’ve been through hell,” he said raising one eyebrow.
“Well, yes. A walk in the woods gone wrong,” I mused.
“I fell,” Mary said, not looking up.
“I think the fault is entirely mine,” I said apologetically. “But I am still grateful for the adventure. It seems to have settled things.”
Mary kissed my cheek and released my arm. “I’ll go get cleaned up and check on Lois,” she said, passing John on the stairs.
“Women will always fascinate me,” John said.
“Indeed.”
“Lois threatened me with the woods once, but it was more about setting the dogs to chase after me than running there herself.” He drew on his cigarette and raised an eyebrow. I folded my arms, looking up at John and knowing full well that if Lois had said that once, it was a tactic that she would indeed employ.
“Come, Harry. I have something I want to discuss with you.”
Leading the way back into the house, John brought me into his study. The fire was burning warmly, and I hadn’t realized how cold I had been in the woods chasing after Mary. I squatted down by the fire with my palms in front of it and delighted in the heat. John stood next to me and handed me a glass of bourbon.
“Do you hunt?” he asked.
“I haven’t no,” I said.
“You must be good with a rifle,” he said.
“I have earned my marksman stripes. Why?”
“I want you to join me at the club. Hunting season will be starting soon, and it might be good for you to meet more people. I feel I have neglected to introduce you to people of prominence.” After pouring himself another glass, he placed the crystal stopper on the bottle. “I’ve been absorbed with my business, and you, my dear Harry, just made things better for me.” Pointing his finger to the paper on his desk, he smiled.
“Ah, the article,” I said, remembering that Lois has shared the same news with me earlier. “Page five, I gather.”
“Yes, the article. It seems you did a remarkable thing for me, and I can only return the favor.”
“No. John. Uncle John. No. I had no idea that my work would benefit you. I was just doing what I was asked to do. I researched and argued and—”
“You won,” John said, nodding. “Don’t allow humility to take away your victory. I have here a letter, a rather crudely written letter, from the Honorable Judge Long expressing his displeasure.” Handing me the letter, he sat on his dark leather couch and motioned for me to sit across from him on the loveseat. “Fortune, Harry, is easily won and easily lost. I have no particular emotional attachment to the Longs, but I do have a particular attachment to my fortune. It provides a certain way of life that I prefer. I promised Lois when I married her to keep her in a style that she deserves, to keep her in comfort and—”
“Lois doesn’t need your fortune,” I interrupted as I read the letter. “Her fortune might actually rival yours.” I handed the letter back to John, but he did not move to take it. Instead, he drank another sip of his bourbon and leaned back on the couch with his arm stretched over the leather. I placed the letter on the table before us.
“You may be right.” He smiled. “So, back to you, Harry. I have an offer that I hope you won’t refuse. I could use your help with a land deal. It’s similar to the case you just argued. It’s an intriguing one, with ghosts and goblins and abandoned gold mines. Just the thing to fill you up with some of that fancy that you and Lois seem to enjoy. And I have no doubt whatsoever that you’ll be able to help me close it. More importantly, I think you’ll find it will be the making of your career.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. Gypsy curses and silly legends don’t really appeal to me, Uncle John. I had enough of shamans and curses in Africa. As for my career, this thing in the paper was just a happenstance. I haven’t decided. I haven’t chosen a particular legal direction . . .”
“All directions must be chosen by each of us, or they will be chosen for each of us, Harry,” John said. And I didn’t realize how true this would ring for the rest of my life. Handing me a valise filled with papers, he continued, “Look these over, Harry. I think the case will intrigue you, and I’m certain you’re the right solicitor for the job.”
“John, I’m delighted to know you think so highly of my skills . . .”
But raising his hand, John signaled me to stop. “Look it over and let me know tomorrow at breakfast if it would be of interest to you. Besides, like all good adventures, there’s a good ending that will benefit more than me—very possibly people you hold dear. Maybe even yourself.” And having said this, he stood up and walked out of the study, leaving me with a hefty case and very little time to decide.
I took dinner in my room that night and pored over the surveys, deeds, claims, letters, and geological reports. Everything intrigued me, and I spent the entire evening reading through each item with the most voracious appetite. It was the first ray of sun that informed me the next day had come. Wearily, I staggered over to the washbasin to splash my face. Settling myself back on the edge of the bed, I looked at the piles of paper surrounding me.
I felt for a moment a sudden stillness. What was I to do? It was a simple decision really. Take the case or not. Argue for John or not. And yet, it felt like a crossroads that was illuminated by the rays of sunlight glowing on the papers scattered around me. I was a paralyzed in a moment of indecision. Finally I gathered all the papers in haste and climbed down the stairs to find John in his study reading a large leather book on inheritance law.
“Ah,” he said. “I see my papers kept you up all night.” He snapped his book shut and walked over to his dark leather couch; he gestured for me to sit in the same position as the night before. I obliged, holding the papers close to my chest, reluctant to release them.
“What did you think?” John asked with half a smile.
And there, with that question, my answer became so clear. I felt the albatross leave my neck, and placing the papers on his table, I sighed deeply and said, “No.”
It was a strange sound that floated about the room. John’s smile froze as if my word had stopped time. Clasping my hands together and leaning forward to push the papers towards John, I said, “I’m very sorry, Uncle John, but I will have to say no.”
