Chapter Ten #2
Anna looked in the mirror above her dresser.
Her hair was twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck, and she wore a simple gown of lavender dimity.
Despite the wide-brimmed hat she always wore outside, her cheeks had acquired a hint of color.
It was not unattractive, however. In fact, it made her eyes stand out.
Anna! she scolded herself, and then went downstairs to greet her guest.
He stood in the living room, holding a book, which he handed to her after they exchanged greetings. It was a copy of a novel he had mentioned yesterday.
“It’s very clever,” he said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“That was good of you, Mr. Lockwood, thank you.”
“Also, Eugenia arrives tomorrow. She looks forward to seeing you.”
Ah, so that’s why he is here. “I look forward to seeing her as well.”
Mr. Lockwood looked up at the portrait that hung above the fireplace. It was of Elizabeth and Anna as little girls, walking through a meadow with their feet bare and daisy chain crowns on their heads. (Lillian was incapable of looking at it without ostentatiously sniffing.)
“A lovely painting. You and your sister?”
“Yes. Our late mother painted it.”
“She was quite talented. Do you paint?”
“Neither Elizabeth nor I have any aptitude whatsoever,” Anna said.
“My father used to joke that they taught us the Three As—athletics, academics, and art—in hopes of producing well-rounded children. By the time he realized they had produced one athlete and one scholar, it was too late for them to have the artist.”
Mr. Lockwood smiled. “Did your mother feel that way, too?”
Anna thought for a moment. “I do not remember her expressing that same thought, but nor do I recall her contradicting him.” She looked at him, curious. “What an interesting question. I wonder what made you ask it.”
Mr. Lockwood shrugged. “I was just thinking of Brook Farm. My mother did not live there, but she attended the school and took a lively interest in the place, and I know she admired their principle of following one’s affinities.
I suppose I thought if your mother did, too, she might be delighted that you and your sister found your individual interests. ”
Anna nodded. “I believe you are right. She was never one to put a thumb on the scale when it came to our pursuits.”
However frivolous he might be, Anna was realizing, Harley Lockwood was not without powers of observation.
Later that afternoon, Anna was reading on the screen porch when Elizabeth came in, picked up a magazine, and flipped through the pages in an unconvincing charade.
“So, I heard Mr. Lockwood came by,” she said, a hint of meaning in her voice.
“Lower that eyebrow, Liz. He wanted to tell me that Eugenia would arrive tomorrow. A fact he seemed to believe would thrill me no end.”
Elizabeth’s brows now puckered in obvious disapproval. “You are very severe. I realize Eugenia is a bit…”
“Pedantic? Officious? Domineering?” Anna offered, helpfully.
Elizabeth sighed. “Yes. But you might be more charitable, considering she has neither your countenance nor your social address.”
“I have neither countenance nor social address!”
“Of course you do!” Elizabeth seemed genuinely surprised Anna would think otherwise. “You are not only attractive, but you have wit and keen intelligence. Just because you choose to share these gifts with family and a small circle of friends in no way diminishes them.”
Anna was so surprised, it took her a moment to reply.
“Oh. Well, thank you,” she managed finally. “I suppose I don’t see myself that way.”
“And, to my original point,” Elizabeth said, her voice softening, “I know Eugenia goes on about her research and settlement house, and she can be overbearing, but try to remember that her work and her brother are her entire life.”
“Oh, all right,” Anna relented.
Though she thought Elizabeth was being too generous, Anna could acknowledge that she got along better in the world than Eugenia Lockwood, who seemed unaware of how off-putting she could be. She could see how such obtuseness would make life a trial at times.
Her resolution to be kinder to Eugenia was put to the test the very next day. Elizabeth was showing Anna some flowers she had planted in front of the house, while Julia sat on the flagstone entry steps, writing in a diary.
Anna looked up and saw the familiar square figure heading briskly in their direction, using a closed parasol as a walking stick. Anna and Elizabeth moved toward the road to greet her. When Eugenia reached them, she nodded, and offered a no-nonsense “Good day.”
“It is good to see you, Eugenia. We were pleased to learn you would be joining your brother on Haven Point,” Elizabeth said. Anna echoed this with what she hoped was credible cordiality.
“Thank you, yes. Difficult to leave my work, but Harley persuaded me that the seaside air would do me good. Hence this constitutional I am taking.”
“May I introduce my daughter, Julia?” Elizabeth said, gesturing toward the house.
“Of course. I should like to meet her,” Eugenia’s expression suggested a clinical interest, as if she were about to be shown a rare shell or exotic plant.
Julia generally preferred to be excluded from adult social calls, but she was not utterly without manners. When she saw them coming, she put her diary aside and moved to rise.
Eugenia put her hand out, palm down, as if motioning a dog to sit. “Do not get up for me, dear.” She spoke in the dictatorial tone that Anna found so irritating, but Julia cheerfully plopped back down and looked up at the visitor with some curiosity.
“I am Miss Lockwood, Julia. I am pleased to meet you. Is that a diary you’re writing in?”
“Yes. My grandmother gave it to me.”
“What do you write about?”
“Mostly about things I did that day.” She went back to the beginning of the diary and began flipping through pages.
She stopped at an entry that she presumably considered representative and read it out loud: “‘Climbed the oak, went skating, raced Miles Farlow and beat him cold. He got mad and pushed me. I laughed.’”
“That seems like a good way to hold on to memories,” Eugenia said.
Julia nodded primly. “Yes. And I also write down the mean things my brother says to me, and what I wish I could say back to him.”
“Julia, your grandmother gave you that diary so you might reflect on how to be a good girl,” Elizabeth said.
“It is helping me be good!” Julia pointed at the book. “I write them here instead of saying them.”
“Those are not the only two options,” Elizabeth remonstrated.
Julia, eyes wide, shook her head. “Oh, yes, they are!”
Eugenia observed this exchange with a rather strained expression on her face. Rosemary appeared at that moment to fetch Julia, and once they were inside, she burst out laughing so heartily, Anna and Elizabeth could not help joining in.
Anna could not recall ever hearing Eugenia laugh. She rarely saw her smile. It was a revelation, discovering the sense of humor underneath all that pedantry.
“Well, I must thank you,” Eugenia said when she caught her breath. “That was the most amusing thing I have heard in a long time. And we must credit the child for her good sense. What a clever way to keep uncharitable thoughts to oneself! Well, I must be going. Goodbye.”
Eugenia turned on her heels, raised her parasol in a farewell salute, and was on her way.
Elizabeth turned to Anna, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, all right…” Anna said grudgingly. “She’s not so bad.”
Later that week, Anna was at a party, talking to Elizabeth, when Serena approached them.
“Anna, that gown suits you so well!” Serena said, with genuine admiration. “You look lovely.”
“Doesn’t she?” Elizabeth said. “Anna is forever trying to camouflage herself. I am glad it was otherwise tonight.”
Anna felt her face grow warm. She was not embarrassed by Elizabeth pointing out her preference for blending into the background. Her family had always teased her about that. It was rather that the habit of repelling attention was so fixed, she felt uncomfortable attracting it tonight.
And while she had not been entirely conscious of it, Anna had taken pains with her appearance, choosing a green linen gown with a silk underskirt, which was simple but becoming, and arranging her hair in a looser fashion, so some strands fell about her face.
When Mr. Lockwood entered the room a few minutes later, caught her eye, and smiled, she felt her blush deepen.
Anna! she scolded herself again. Where had this schoolgirl streak come from?
Two nights ago, Anna had been on the Grahams’ porch while George played his fiddle and Nora led them in song. Mr. Lockwood sought her out, as he had seemed to do at every event that week, and stayed by her side for the rest of the evening.
Anna had continually reminded herself not to be taken in by his charm and humor, but all her primping and blushing suggested that her wiser angels were being quite overpowered. Feeling the need to breathe and gather her thoughts, she slipped into an adjoining room, which was mercifully empty.
In college, Anna was always surprised by her friends’ occasional displays of romantic feeling. Though no more interested in marriage than Anna, they would still delightedly describe some tête-à-tête or rhapsodize over a handsome man. Anna had assumed she was born without this streak.
All right, so I have it, too, she thought.
But this … flirtation (she supposed that was the term?) need not challenge that resolve.
Besides, even if Anna had suddenly been transformed into one of the “marriage-bound,” to borrow Irma’s old term, which she definitely had not, she could never consider Mr. Lockwood suitable, given his relationship with Judith Fairchild.