Chapter Four #3
“Oh, but I’m so fond of the people here!” Serena said. Anna knew she meant it, but she picked up a hint of uncertainty. Women like Vesta always flummoxed Serena.
“I am sure they’re nice, but I would worry that I was robbing my children of the opportunity to get along in society.” Vesta turned to Elizabeth. “I understand your little William will be making a long visit to his grandmother in Newport. Very wise.”
“Yes, he is going,” Elizabeth said. Lillian would arrive that afternoon, and would take William with her when she departed. Anna was glad her sister responded only to that fact, and ignored the supposed wisdom of it.
Vesta cocked her head, as if an idea had just come to her. “Why, Serena, since Ambrose’s parents still have their cottage, you should do the same with Amory!” She made this sound like a brilliant, novel idea, rather than a very obvious one that Serena had considered and rejected.
“Maybe someday,” Serena said weakly.
“I would not like to hide my children away.” Vesta shook her head. “We must set them up for success, and in Newport, they are among the future leaders of business and industry.”
When Elizabeth and Vesta went to the rail to better observe a passing yacht, Serena’s brow creased. “Perhaps I should send Amory to Newport, as Elizabeth is doing with William.”
“Does Amory wish to go?”
“No, not really.”
“Well, William does. His grandmother dotes on him so, as you know.” Anna sighed. “I suppose it will do him no harm.”
Serena was anxious but also very suggestible, easily swayed by anyone who spoke with an air of authority. Fortunately, reeling her back in only required Anna to refute Vesta’s assertion with the same certitude with which it had been made.
“Why would you think Newport might cause William harm?”
“I suppose it’s not harmful, per se,” Anna said, sounding as if she was being maximally charitable. “But Newport has nothing like the same beneficial effect on children.”
“Oh, I am so glad to hear you say so!” Serena had an almost pleading look in her eyes. “I think you are quite right, but I wish you would tell me more, because I confess I am unable to articulate precisely what it is about Haven Point that is so marvelous for the children.”
“Children have more freedom here, whereas in Newport, their amusements are mostly arranged for them. And while Newport is lovely, there is something so wholesome about the raw beauty of Haven Point.”
Serena looked at Anna eagerly, hoping to hear more. Anna thought for a moment.
“Our mother had a theory about summer. We lived in ‘society’ the rest of the year, but summer was for freedom, for following our affinities, as she called them.
You might recall that we had a little lakeside cottage in the western part of Massachusetts.
We knew many fine people in that community, but it was not at all ostentatious.
People entertained simply, and nobody promenaded in their finery, showing off to each other like they do in Newport.
“Our mother, you know, lived on the Brook Farm commune as a girl. While she remembered her time there very fondly, she knew one could not entirely leave the world behind. The cottage was her compromise, a way to give us a flavor of what she had enjoyed.”
“But what about meeting important people?” Serena said.
“I think meeting and knowing good people is what matters, don’t you?”
Serena nodded, satisfied. “How well you say it. Your mother would like the people here.”
“Yes, she would. You and Ambrose should be proud of what you have built.” Until this moment, when Serena’s distress compelled her to do so, Anna had not really thought it through, but what she had said was true.
Earlier, in fact, she had imagined how Mother would have viewed the scene on this deck—the conspicuous flaunting of wealth, the gossip and vacuous conversation, the petty rivalries.
That would not have appealed to her, but she would have liked this community.
The women on Haven Point could certainly be said to be “in society.” They lived in nice homes, made social calls, subscribed to charities, and supported the arts, but they were of a different stock from Elizabeth and Serena’s circle in Boston.
The fashionable notion that women were sensitive by nature, in need of protection from the rough world, seemed not to have taken hold in northern New England.
Anna could not imagine any Maine woman cultivating the air of an invalid like some Boston society women did.
Haven Point women were also thrifty and resourceful. Many of their families still owned farms, and Anna often heard them speak of being pressed into service when they were young, helping out at harvest time.
Julia, in particular, seemed to thrive on Haven Point, where she was among people who loved her and found her amusing, rather than constantly standing in wait, ready to pounce on any transgression.
Just yesterday, Anna and Elizabeth ran into Nora at the steamship landing, where they were all picking up their mail.
“Nora, I hope Julia came by to apologize,” Elizabeth said. Julia had come home with a bouquet of dahlias, whose pale peach color marked them as being of Nora’s carefully cultivated variety. When asked, she confessed to having picked them without permission.
“She did. This morning, in fact,” Nora said, then chuckled.
“I suspect I will regret asking, but what did she say to amuse you?”
“Rest easy, Elizabeth. It was a most sincere apology,” Nora said. “But by way of explanation, she said they leaned toward her and smiled, so she knew they wanted to be picked.”
Anna laughed. “A reasonable interpretation.”
“She promised that next time, no matter how much they beg, she will not listen.”
“She is the most fanciful child.” Elizabeth shook her head. “Last night, I went into her room and asked why she was still awake. She said her eyes did not wish to close.”
Julia, who ascribed human emotions and motivations to all things, animate and inanimate, often implied that parts of her body operated of their own volition.
How could she help it if her hand grabbed what was not hers, or her legs carried her where she was not meant to go?
(Rosemary had tried to use this tendency to her advantage.
“But Julia, your stomach likes spinach.” Julia shook her head and said, “Oh, no, it doesn’t! Not even a little.”)
However, while their own mother would have indeed liked it here on Haven Point, there was a difference.
Mother had actively sought out a summer refuge for her daughters, while Elizabeth had stumbled into it, by the sheer luck of a sporting-mad husband who had grown tired of the Newport crowds impeding his ability to play golf and tennis.
Elizabeth’s reclamation of summer had been largely accidental, the result not of intention but rather of the good offices of Nora and George.
Anna was not sure her sister even recognized her good fortune.
The easygoing, accepting character of this place would be utterly destroyed by people like Rhinelander and Vesta Sears. Worse, Anna could not imagine Elizabeth lifting a finger to impede such an outcome.
Lillian arrived that afternoon. She walked in the house, looked around, and said, “You still haven’t put paper up?”
Jerome looked around, too, as if seeing it for the first time, and said, “Yes, when will we, Liz?”
Elizabeth, who had no intention of papering the unfinished walls, murmured something noncommittal in response.
That night, Elizabeth and Jerome hosted a dinner at Fourwinds. The meal was tolerable, as Elizabeth kindly seated Anna beside George Graham, but after dinner, the ladies joined Elizabeth on the south porch.
“Why is there no hotel here?” Vesta asked.
“We believe it is more wholesome without one,” Letty Stinneford said. “And we do like our peace and quiet.”
Odd, Anna thought, noting Letty’s uncharacteristically prim tone.
“What do you do with your time?”
“Oh, we have plenty of amusements,” Nora said. “Why, we sing, and we play Fox and Geese on the beach, and every Sunday evening, we have Vespers.”
“And we always have our needlework,” added Letty.
Now Anna knew something was up. Letty Stinneford hated needlework.
And then it hit her. They’re trying to bore her to death! It seemed to work, because before long, Vesta turned her attention to Lillian and discussions of Newport.
At one point, however, her voice rose above the others.
“Consuelo Vanderbilt wore a wonderful cream-colored silk frock, with a yoke of Venetian lace.” She looked around and spoke in a teacherly fashion.
“Dotted muslin is everywhere this summer. It looks wonderful with a black hat and a splash of color in a corsage.”
Anna glanced around at the assembled group and almost burst out laughing, belatedly noticing the sobriety with which they had dressed for the evening.
It seemed that their scheme to appear as drab as possible had succeeded, given that it had convinced Vesta Sears that they were in dire need of her fashion counsel.
After a while, the men joined them, filling in the seats and leaning against the rails. After Elizabeth ensured everyone was comfortable, Anna moved over and made room for her on the ottoman.
The conversation was rather desultory, since Rhinelander and Vesta had rubbed everyone the wrong way, and the Haven Point women were making a concerted effort to appear uninteresting.
While the group was in desperate need of a distraction, it unfortunately came in the form of Julia, careening onto the porch with great flourish.
She wore a woolen coat of William’s that was far too long.
To remedy this, she had tied a scarf around her waist and bunched some of the material over the top.
The cap she wore, also William’s, came down over her eyes, requiring her to tilt her head back in order to see.
Needless to say, the child presented an extremely odd appearance.
“What is she doing up?” Lillian asked sharply.