Chapter Ten #3
Anna felt society was unfair to women, so it was not so much Judith’s reputation with men that troubled her, but rather her desire to make trouble, specifically for Elizabeth.
Anna was not sure of the present status of Mr. Lockwood’s entanglement with Mrs. Fairchild, but that he’d had one, she had no doubt.
At best, his being associated with such a schemer spoke poorly of his taste and judgment, and it was all too close for comfort.
Feeling calmer, she looked about the library.
The Gilberts, their hosts this evening, were a harmless but rather formal couple, whose house looked as if it might have been lifted out of Back Bay and plunked down here.
The stone mantel around the fireplace was carved with floral wreaths and a heraldic plaque.
Above it hung a portrait of a woman, presumably an ancestor, in a gilded frame.
Anna was gazing at it when she was startled by a voice behind her.
“The artist took some liberties with that painting.”
She turned to see Mr. Lockwood, a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh? I did not know her.”
“While not evident in this work, the elder Mrs. Gilbert had a terrible wandering eye.”
Anna’s reproachful look made him laugh. “I should not have mentioned it, of course, had she not also been such an old dragon, a quality the artist also failed to capture. As she was, I feel no scruple. I actually think a more faithful depiction would have been interesting. Like the Mona Lisa in reverse.”
“So, no matter where you stood in the room…”
“She would not be looking at you.”
“Angrily,” Anna added.
He laughed again, then said, “So, Miss Bradley, what brings you in here by yourself? Are you hiding from someone?”
She returned her gaze to the portrait. “I am afraid I haven’t much of a social appetite.” She forced a smile then managed to meet his eye. “I require intermittent respite.”
“And here I have interrupted. My apologies.”
“It need not be a long respite.”
“I understand the need for a break. The social calendar is quite full here on…” He paused for emphasis, then added, “Watery End.”
Anna burst out laughing, in spite of herself.
“You laugh. I think it apt!” he said, with mock indignation.
“Very Shakespearean. Though I cannot help but note the promise of imminent death in your suggestions.”
“You have discovered the morbidly grim streak masked by my jocund exterior.”
She smiled again, then said, “I should be getting back to the party.”
He offered his arm and escorted her back to the living room. Fortunately, Nora approached, and Mr. Lockwood was beckoned by a friend and excused himself.
“Anna, come talk for a moment,” Nora said, then led her to a pair of chairs in a quieter corner of the room.
“Do you know what the girls have up their sleeve?”
“I was going to ask you the same question,” Anna replied.
That week, every moment the girls were not on the island they had spent in the Grahams’ field, playing with the harbormaster’s dog, Domino, an enormous creature of uncertain breeding (“half Newfoundland, half imbecile,” according to Mr. Phillips).
Julia was enormously fond of the dog, but her affection would not account for such commitment.
“Last week, Maudie asked if she could train one of our terriers. I asked, ‘What for?’ She would not tell me, so I refused, and they recruited Domino instead.”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” Anna said, not sure if she should feel excitement or dread.
On Saturday, Letty Stinneford had arranged “Olympics” on the beach for the children, in honor of the real games underway in Paris. Anna and Mr. Lockwood sat on a bench at the beach club, watching the various competitions underway.
In one spot, children were tossing beanbags into brightly painted boards. Farther down, other children were engaged in some relay that involved running in a suit of men’s clothes. Older children were racing in wooden tubs in the shallow surf.
“This is like a circus,” Mr. Lockwood said.
“Several circuses, in fact.”
“A competition! Which will be the official circus of Guillotine?”
The children gathered for the final contest, a game of Capture the Flag. At Julia’s request, she, Maudie, and Ruthie were on one team, and their brothers on the other. Julia held Domino by the collar and called out to William, who was captain of the opposing team. “Domino’s playing for us.”
“Fine, Julia.” He rolled his eyes. When Julia, Maudie, and Ruthie exchanged smiles, Anna knew she was about to discover what the girls had been doing all week.
George Graham blew the whistle to start the game. Maudie held something in front of Domino’s nose; then Julia let go of his collar. The dog ran off in a zigzag pattern, moving with so little evident purpose that the opposing team, other than dodging him, paid the dog no attention.
That is, until Domino got behind the guard and grabbed the flag in his teeth.
Julia, Maudie, and Ruthie clapped their hands and yelled, “Here, Domino! Here, Domino!” The dog tore off in their direction.
William and his teammates, having finally awakened to what had transpired, ran after him, but Domino, sensing danger, picked up speed.
He crossed the line, flopped at the girls’ feet, and began chewing on the flag.
By this point, Anna and Mr. Lockwood were laughing so hard, tears filled their eyes.
“How on earth…?” he asked when he caught his breath.
“I haven’t the slightest notion.”
There was cheering and laughter, and the girls were surrounded by their teammates, clapping them on their backs and demanding to know how they had pulled off the trick. Anna wished she could hear the answer.
“That’s not fair!” William yelled, a stormy look on his face.
The fact that several of his own teammates were also laughing was probably not helping his temper.
William Demarest had inherited his father’s size, athletic ability, and overweening confidence, but deep down, he could not fail to recognize his younger sister’s raw appeal.
Julia, on tiptoes, called out from inside the admiring throng. “You said he could play!”
Anna eventually caught Julia’s attention and beckoned her over to ask how they had gotten Domino to do their bidding.
“Ruthie sewed pieces of bacon in the hem of the flag,” Julia said, still beaming from the triumph. “Maudie dipped shells in bacon grease to make a scent trail for Domino to follow.”
“What a brilliant ploy. What on earth gave you such an idea?” Mr. Lockwood asked.
“I read about it in a book. Maudie’s the one who knows about training dogs, though,” Julia said with a shrug, then ran back to her friends.
That evening, Jerome and Elizabeth invited a group over for an impromptu party on their back lawn, and the girls’ stunt was the talk of the evening.
Anna listened as George Graham, a marvelous storyteller, relayed the tale to Mary and Adam Francis, who were kicking themselves for being in Portland and missing it.
Jerome was laughing heartily throughout, as if hearing it all for the first time, though he had witnessed it himself.
He was as engaged with his children as any father in his set (which was to say: not very), but he could be amused by, and even proud of, Julia’s high spirits.
In fact, when William grumbled on the way home earlier about the unfairness, Jerome had cut him off.
“You’re being a very poor sport, William.
I, for one, thought it was a marvelous trick. ”
Anna wondered if Jerome would derive as much pleasure—or any at all—if his mother were here.
Lillian certainly would have disapproved.
Julia was too wild, too pushing; her competitive spirit was unladylike.
Just one woman’s poison can get into the groundwater, Nora had said about Vesta Sears, but it was equally true of Lillian.
Well, she isn’t here, Anna reminded herself. For now, all was as it should be.
A few minutes later, she heard Letty Stinneford talking to Serena.
“Too bad Mr. Lockwood returned to Boston.”
Anna felt her mood plummet to earth, a sure sign that all was not as it should be.