Chapter Six
Haven Point, Maine
ANNA
William, face red and his fists clenched, stalked onto the side porch, Owen Graham in tow. Anna set aside her book, and Elizabeth looked up from her needlework.
“What is it, William?” Elizabeth asked.
“Mother, you must do something about Julia! She and Maudie are ruining everything.” He practically spat the last word. Anna thought, not for the first time, what a shame it was that such a handsome boy so often wore such unhandsome expressions.
“Oh?” Elizabeth asked mildly. “What happened?”
“We were coming out of the clubhouse and got pelted with tennis balls. Julia was shooting them at us, I know she was. She can’t throw for anything, so she obviously stole my slingshot!”
“You did not see the person?” Elizabeth asked.
“We saw a coupla kids running away,” Owen said. “They wore boys’ clothes, but they didn’t look like boys.”
“She probably nicked the clothes from me, too. You know what a thief she is,” William added. “She steals all my books.”
“I’ll speak to her,” Elizabeth said. She used the same mild tone, which obviously infuriated her son. He bent forward, his face contorted by rage.
“You can talk ’til you’re blue in the face, Mother! It won’t do a bit of good. She needs to be punished!”
At this, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “That, William, will be all.”
William stood then, face flushed. His jaw was still set, but he knew he had erred. Owen, for his part, looked abashed. (Anna had noticed that he seemed rather more uncertain about this confrontation from the start.)
“Sorry,” William mumbled. “Come on, Owen.”
Anna was tempted to laugh at the picture that had formed in her mind, of Julia and Maudie trotting down the road in oversized boys’ clothing, but she refrained, since Elizabeth showed no sign of sharing her amusement.
“This is growing intolerable,” Elizabeth said, with a weary sigh.
“I am sure it is very difficult for you,” Anna said consolingly.
A war between the sexes was underway on Haven Point, and Julia and Maudie were both instigators and primary combatants. This latest report was consistent with their tactics, which were decidedly guerrilla in nature—sabotage, espionage, and (of course) theft.
As with all wars, the causes were many and varied, but to Anna’s thinking, they all fell under the umbrella of envy. Julia and Maudie felt they were constantly being hemmed in, while the boys were enjoying unparalleled freedom.
It was bad enough when William and his friends took over the old stone building on the mainland, which had once been a school, and turned it into a clubhouse. What really drove Julia to the edge was the great Rough Rider Controversy.
The Ballantines’ nephew, a Harvard man who served under Colonel Roosevelt in the Battle of San Juan Hill, had come to Haven Point to recuperate from malaria, and held an informal talk from a hammock on the Ballantines’ porch.
Julia was obsessed with Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, and Maudie had been infected by her contagious enthusiasm. They were livid when they were prohibited from hearing him speak, while the boys were allowed to go, and William did not help things when he returned late that afternoon.
“It was the most glorious talk. I shall never forget it. What stories we heard!”
Julia was slumped on the sofa, one arm dangling over the edge, looking at him through lazy eyes—a valiant and utterly unconvincing attempt to appear indifferent. Finally, her curiosity won out, and she swallowed her pride.
“What sorts of stories?”
“I can’t tell you!” William said haughtily. “The things he told us are not fit for a girl’s ear.”
Julia glared daggers at him. Things had been going downhill ever since.
A few days after Elizabeth reprimanded William, Anna was outside when Julia emerged from the forest at the center of the point, covered with dirt.
“Oh, dear, Julia. Where have you been?” Anna asked.
“Maudie and I were training the goats,” she said. Unfortunately, William had chosen this moment to emerge from the house. He caught sight of his sister, and his nose wrinkled.
“Look at you! What a mess you are. And what on earth are you training goats for?”
“For a circus,” Julia replied, as if this were obvious.
William made a disgusted sound. “Why do you have to be such a little hoyden?”
He went back inside, the screen door slamming behind him. Julia shrugged.
“And how did it go, the goat training?” Anna asked.
Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed. “Not well. They won’t listen.”
A moment later, William reappeared at the front door, holding up one of his novels. “I found this in your room,” he said, furious.
Julia rolled her eyes dramatically. “So?”
“So, you took it from me, and you shouldn’t read it anyway, because it’s not proper.”
“Well, you can have it back now.”
William let loose another disgusted groan and went back indoors.
It was unfortunate timing for Julia to develop a fatal addiction to dime novels. Thanks to Judith Fairchild, her reading material had become quite a bugaboo of Lillian’s. Only a few months ago, Lillian came upon Julia in Jerome’s library, lying on her back reading a similarly dreadful book.
“Julia Demarest, you should not be reading such vulgar novels!” She turned to Elizabeth. “How can you allow this? Those books feature the most degenerate men. Children who read them look upon criminal behavior as not only common but desirable.”
“But Grandmother, this book is about Spotter Shrimp, a boy detective,” Julia replied, her tone consoling. “He helps catch criminals, who go to jail, and jail is not desirable.”
Seeing that Lillian was not appeased, Julia added, “And Spotter has a sister named Annabella, who is…” She stopped, scanned the page to find the words, then looked up eagerly. “‘Matrimonially hopeful’!”
Lillian sniffed, then wagged a finger at her daughter-in-law. “Good books make good children, Elizabeth.” She departed in a huff, and Julia shrugged as if to say, I did my best, and returned to her reading.
Over the last year, Mrs. Fairchild had carved out a niche for herself within the world of Christian mothering. Anna already knew she was shrewd, but this move was a true strategic masterstroke.
Boston’s Watch and Ward Society had been banging the drums about the dangers of illicit literature for years.
However, that organization focused on adult literature (with some attention to dime novels for boys, which were thought to encourage criminal activity).
Seeing that mothers of daughters in Boston were being left out of this very fashionable panic, Mrs. Fairchild spotted the opening and seized it.
Her pamphlet on the effect of books on girls’ moral formation proved so popular, she began producing a regular newsletter called Our Daughters’ Reading, which, in turn, led to essays for the Evening Transcript, lectures to librarians, and even a spot in a roundup of “experts” on the subject in Harper’s Magazine.
It was a charade, of course, but one that had earned her social indemnification.
To criticize her was to align oneself with impurity and purveyors of smut.
Anna was not remotely worried about Julia’s reading material, but she was concerned about William’s keen attention to it.
In a few weeks, William would go to Newport to be with his grandmother.
Lillian was a ready audience for his complaints about his sister.
Now “theft of unsuitable literature” would be added to the list.
A few nights later, at a gathering at the Ballantines’ cottage, Nora proposed an idea to Anna.
“You know what a sore spot the boys’ clubhouse has been for the girls. I think we should let Maudie and Julia get something similar going on Gunnison Island. They could sail over and run a little wild. Supervised, of course, and just on fine weekdays.”
Anna smiled. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Gunnison Island was part of the property Ambrose Lawrence had purchased from the Grahams. It was uninhabited and close to Haven Point’s shore.
“Well, I’m not sure you will once you hear me out,” Nora warned. “You see, I was hoping you might go with them. Julia has spoken of all the pretending you two do together, and I thought you might help them get up some make-believe games and whatnot.”
“I am not much of a sailor,” Anna said. “Frankly, for the most part, I am a bit, well … indoorsy?”
Nora smiled. “That’s all right. I’ve spoken with Duncan Douglas, and he said he would help. We should tell the girls it’s a secret so we don’t end up with the same problem in reverse, with the boys angry the girls are getting such a treat.”
Mr. Douglas, who acted as caretaker for both the Grahams and the Demarests, was extremely competent, but while relieved on that score, Anna was not sure Julia would be able to keep her mouth shut for long.
“Maudie won’t either,” Nora replied, when Anna said as much. “I’ll tell Owen we are getting the girls out of their hair. We can say they’re learning to cook outdoors or something equally unappealing. Elizabeth will do the same with William.”
“Elizabeth agreed to this?”
“We’re both fed up with all the fighting.”
“All right.” Anna still felt unsure about her fitness for this role, but she was willing to give it a try. She also appreciated that Nora evidently believed the girls had a legitimate grievance, and while she suspected Elizabeth was merely “fed up,” as Nora had put it, she had consented, at least.
“What about Ruthie? She’ll wonder where her friends have gone.”
“We can ask Serena. Perhaps she will allow it.”
Anna thought that was unlikely. Serena was fully in the clutches of Dr. Frazier, who had attended her mother for decades, treating even the most minor complaints with great interest and seriousness, and offering many gratifying pronouncements about the particular delicacy of her blood and liver.
To Anna’s surprise, Serena thought it was a grand plan.