Brent was not the only "bad" influence in Lydia’s young life. Lydia met one of the most shocking characters in Rock Lucian during that summer, a certain Madame la Comtesse De Feuillide or Josephine. Josephine was a French aristocrat, who had grown up in the Caribbean islands, but she had family who lived in New York: the Mavis Family. Josephine was very different from her Mavis cousins, who she had come to live with, and indeed, she was different from everyone in Rock Lucian. Josephine’s father had been a British sugar plantation owner in the islands, and her mother had died when she was only three. Her father and her black nanny were very indulgent, and Josephine grew up wild and strong willed. When she was sixteen she visited the European continent, and her beautiful black hair, striking smile, shockingly green eyes, and playful arrogance and impudence attracted the eye of the Comte De Feuillide, who was more than twice her age at thirty-five. The Comte was misled as many men are that once married, a girl with strong opinions will submit to whatever he deems appropriate behavior for his wife. Josephine’s father agreed to the match, because he wished to please his daughter and he was ill and wanted to see her taken care of richly, and richly she was. Josephine’s father died shortly after she was married to her husband, who quickly became disillusioned with his young bride.
Josephine could not have cared less if her husband was displeased with her behavior; she was having the time of her life. She flirted with the richest men in France and the rest of the Continent, and she flirted with the handsomest men she had ever encountered. She only wished she had the good fortune of meeting the extremely handsome and younger Comte De Orville, or Russell, before she had compulsively married her older more sedate husband. Josephine met the Comte De Orville at one of her husband’s soirees, when she was seventeen. Josephine used these events thrown by her husband as her arena to show off her charms and gifts. The Comte De Orville, who was eight years her senior, stood no chance once Josephine directed her attentions at him, even though he knew very well that she was the wife of one the richest and most powerful men in France. Granted, the nobility of France was "freer" in regards to gender relations than that of the puritanical Americans, but the Comte De Feuillide did not appreciate his wife’s indiscretions. Nevertheless, Josephine was drawn almost helplessly towards Russell, who was younger, more romantic, more athletic, and handsomer than the elder Comte.
Consequently, it came to be that the Comte De Orville spent more time near Josephine’s home than he did his own, and for nine years they carried on an elicit affair of which no one could be ignorant: they even went so far as to touch lips passionately in public on countless occasions. Among some circles it was even rumored that here was some doubt as to who fathered Josephine’s child. The little boy’s blond hair, so resembled the Comte De Orville‘s that gossips could not help but wag their tongues. The Comte De Feuillide suffered under his wife’s affair with the younger Comte, but there were also several other short-term lovers that he endured during their time together as man and wife. Finally, after being married to Josephine for ten years he quietly ordered her out.
The Mavis family received a letter from la Comtesse De Feuillide requesting a place to stay during her visit to the States. She left France before the letter had ever arrived, but Mrs. Mavis would have never thought of denying a relative such as the Comtesse. Josephine lived in the Mavis mansion for the three months before they traveled to Rock Lucian for the summer, but upon their arrival in Rock Lucian, Josephine found a very small cottage in the inexpensive part of town, where she set up residence. Altogether, her behavior and reputation, which quickly spread, quickly came to shock the Mavis family, and wild rumors about the beautiful woman flew about wherever she went. Despite these rumors, she was never excluded from parties, dinners, or assemblies; quite the contrary, it was quite a coup to actually entice the young woman to appear at your particular function. Josephine had never been so bored in her life in New York, but she was only slightly happier in Rock Lucian, having been granted some independence, so that she might choose the company she kept.
When Lydia first met Josephine, she had already heard much about her. The two ladies, while extremely different, quickly took to each other at a dinner. Josephine appreciated a woman who had something to say and did not appear threatened by her, and Lydia found la Comtesse enthralling, and it was terribly diverting to speak to her in French too quickly for anyone else to understand. Other women found it disarming to be around a woman such as Josephine, because she attracted so much male attention and courted that attention fiercely. It did not bother Lydia, even though she knew it should; somehow the fact that Josephine had no wish to marry these men made Lydia almost want to laugh. Josephine held the reins. Lydia was always a little shocked by Josephine’s behavior and attire, but it also pleased her. Josephine was well aware of what men liked and what she had, so she dressed in alluring fabrics that longed to be touched, and she wore them so as to show off her best attributes.
After meeting Josephine, Lydia convinced Josephine to accompany her to gatherings, dances, dinner parties, and the opera. People within Lydia’s circle were not concerned that Lydia was spending time with Josephine; they were more amused. It was generally assumed that she had no idea what kind of a person Josephine actually was. Lydia was under little delusion, however, because Josephine had no qualms sharing stories about the way that she lived her life. Lydia was well acquainted with the young Comte’s portrait, which Josephine wore around her neck in a locket, and she also knew how little Josephine cared for her husband. Lydia loved Josephine’s little cottage, which was on the edge of town. The cottage was white washed with faded blue shutters, and a short path of crushed shells led up to the place. Josephine tried to plant flowers, but the white sand that surrounded her house would not support anything, so she contented herself with filling the inside with flowers. The inside of her cottage had already been furnished, but she added her flare by purchasing dark red velvet to drape over the furniture and hanging her sketches in gilded frames on the walls. What Lydia liked best was the openness of the place. Josephine had her novel collection piled against the wall, where anyone could see what she read, and she never hesitated to put her feet up on the velvet cushions. A picture frame with two pictures prominently on the mantel displayed Josephine‘s two loves: Josephine’s son, Marshall and the Comte De Orville. Lydia picked up the frame and examined both pictures.
"He is very pretty, Josephine." "Do you speak of my son?" "Yes." "He is very pretty, much like his father." Josephine laughed when Lydia looked up at her. "You are wondering who this little boy’s father is?" Lydia did not answer. "That’s all right, everyone does, even his father wonders." Josephine was cleverly avoiding the issue, not because she did not want to tell, but because this was a more interesting game. "You must miss him very much, Josephine." "Allow me to tell you something: never have children, my dear." "Oh! Josephine, shame on you. I would love to have children." "They are terrible trouble, but all right for some I guess. His father dotes on him a great deal." "It can’t be good that you are away from him." "No, I don’t suppose so, but then I never saw much of him, because my husband was always scooting him off somewhere." Lydia liked the way Josephine said, "scooting." Talking about things that seemed rather dark never brought Josephine’s mood down. Lydia figured that Marshall was the Comte De Orville’s child, because Josephine had drawn a distinction between ’father’ and ’husband.’ Lydia found that if she thought about it too closely she would become embarrassed. "Who’s child do you want to have, Miss Lydia?" Blush rose on her face, as she had never discussed even implicitly the making of children. "My husband’s." "Is that meant as a unkind remark?" Josephine laughed and sipped her wine. "No, I just don’t know really…" "That’s a poor answer, if I ever heard one. Come, we’re girlfriends, you mustn’t keep these things from me." "Honestly," Lydia pleaded, but Lydia’s face had grown an even darker shade of pink. "I’ll have to watch you then, and determine on my own. Now won’t I?" "If you will find amusement in it."
The former bad influence did not approve of the newer one, however. Lydia was sitting at the Garden Room, where she had first met Brent, when he came upon her for the first time since their unmentionable experience. Lydia was not eager to meet with him again, but he had bad enough taste to come and sit next to her. "Good afternoon, my dear Miss Pierce. How good to see you again." "Do you mean to torment me?" "We have not met for quite a number of days now, and upon seeing you, I thought, as a friend, I would impart some advice to you." "I need advice from you?" Lydia smiled at the thought of an outcast like Brent giving her advice. "Yes, and on your behavior, or rather your new companion." "Are you speaking of Madame la Comtesse De Feuillide?" "Don’t dignify her with that title, my dear. Are you quite swept off your feet by her royalty? She comes from blood no better than yours or mine." "I wouldn’t care if it were worse than ours were. Honestly, I didn’t think you were a snob, Brent. Are you jealous that I spend time with her?" "Don’t flatter yourself, darling. Even Rock Lucian has things of interest, but I don’t think she is good for you…I’m afraid you don’t understand her." "And you do?" "Better than you. She may seem interesting and worldly, but she has been tossed out of her home." "So have you." "But she had responsibilities. She is la Comtesse De Feuillide as you reminded me, and she had a husband and child." "He threw her out; she would have never left by choice." "He threw her out for infamous behavior…behavior you couldn’t begin to comprehend." "I do understand." "My dear, I know how innocent you are." "No, I am not! I know that her son isn’t even her husband’s."
She nearly choked on the words and she could not prevent herself from blushing. "And this doesn’t bother you?" "No." "Then perhaps it bothers you that she has abandoned her son, whoever he may belong to?" It did bother Lydia a bit, but she would not give Brent the satisfaction of conceding this point. "She is an independent woman." "But she moves within good society nonetheless, which isn’t playing by the rules, and do you see that?" "I enjoy her company, Brent. Do you honestly think that’s wrong?" He looked into her eyes. "You are terribly bored aren’t you?" "I was, yes." "Then you should have no qualms spending time with me, and following your dear friend’s amorous example." "You are a cad, Brent." "But you seem to have taken to this behavior, haven’t you?" "I can be her friend, and be an upright person as well." "What a shame. You had me hoping."
Chapter 9
Lydia and la Comtesse attended a large assembly after having known one and other for several weeks. They knew each other fairly well after having spent nearly the entire period of their acquaintance in each other’s company. Moreover, friendship and intimacy with Josephine happened at a lightening pace: she was such an open person, withholding little from her companions that it was easy to come under her spell in a very short time. Lydia had been bred to be more guarded, but she forgot a lot of what she had been taught under the dizzying power of Josephine who seemed so adept and high-spirited. The two had already attended a number of occasions such as these, but none so large. Lydia found the dances more entertaining with Josephine at her side. La Comtesse always spoke rashly with the young men in attendance, and as Josephine’s companion, Lydia found that she too was somewhat more outgoing with the opposite sex; as a result, Lydia never lacked for male attention. Lydia had never suffered from poor self-esteem, having never lacked for partners before, but these men were so put at ease by la Comtesse’s manners, that they seemed more interesting and easier to laugh at than gentlemen she had known before. Josephine was always laughing at men, which Lydia found hard to do at first.
"Get me something to drink, Fritz," Josephine breathed. Her entire persona was seductive, and men would do anything for her. The young man headed off to procure her something to drink. Two men were still left, one whom Lydia had already danced with this night, a certain Mr. Neil Ramsey, whose family knew the Pierces from many summers at Rock Lucian. "Who is that dashing man over there?" Lydia looked in Josephine’s line of vision and to her dismay she saw Brent looking right back at her. "I don’t know," she tersely answered. "He’s looking right at you, Lydia. I think he wants to dance with you. What do you think of that, Neil?" "I know that gentleman, Miss Pierce, and he isn’t of your character." "How interesting. It sounds like fun, doesn’t it Lydia? Do tell Neil, and if it is shocking enough, I believe Lydia will just have to dance with him." "That’s all right, Mr. Ramsey, I trust your estimation without the details." "So you will dance with him?" Josephine asked, smiling behind her fan. "No, I don’t care to." "Well then, I shall get him to dance with me, because he is very handsome, don’t you think? Sorry boys, no offense is meant." "I can’t see anything pleasing in his countenance." "Honestly, that is harsh, Lydia. The gentleman has taken such a shine to you. Really, that isn’t gracious." "Trust me, Madame, he deserves no respect from either of you ladies." "You look rather ill disposed, Miss Pierce, are you all right?" asked the gentleman who had said nothing up until now. "I am feeling a bit faint…I think the heat has overcome me. Ne…I mean Mr. Ramsey, would you help me to a window?" Josephine called everyone by their Christian name, a habit that Lydia was trying with some difficulty from adopting herself. "Yes, of course," he said taking her arm.
"Will you be all right?" Josephine called after her, and as Lydia looked behind her to nod to Josephine she saw Brent coming her way. "Oh!" "What is it, Miss Pierce?" "That wretched man is following us." "Do you mean the gentleman who was looking at you?" "Yes, hurry. I don’t want to have to talk to him." They darted through the crowd, Mr. Ramsey holding her arm. Lydia had the urge to throw him off, but she could not fathom why. She did feel as if she was always running away from Brent, and yet she could not stop thinking about his strong arms and handsome face. They finally reached a window in the assembly room, and Lydia leaned out slightly, breathing in the air. She had not really felt as if she was going to faint, but she had no wish to be in the room any longer. Mr. Ramsey held her about the waist as she leaned out, and she knew this was too forward and if she did not wish to encourage him she should remove his hands, but it did not particularly matter to her at the moment. She vaguely remembered that Valerie had had a crush on Mr. Ramsey, who was three years their elder. Valerie had spent the previous summer staring at him at balls from across the room. She would never do that now, because she was only interested in men of great fortune, and the Ramseys were not of ‘great fortune,’ or at least not of fortune great enough to entice Valerie.
"Excuse me sir, but may I speak with the lady?" It was Brent, and she knew Mr. Ramsey would try to shoo him away, without result. She stood upright and turned to face Brent, before Mr. Ramsey could answer. "How good to see you, Brent. I’m surprised to find you here, when you are always proclaiming how much you hate such events." "I think you know why you see me at such events. Are you going to introduce me?" "Brent, this is Mr. Neil Ramsey, Mr. Ramsey, Mr. Brent Howard." Mr. Ramsey put out his hand reluctantly, and Brent coldly bowed, refusing his hand. Lydia looked at Mr. Ramsey, who was obviously confused. "I certainly hope that Mr. Ramsey doesn’t take up all of your dances, Miss Pierce" Lydia quickly weighed whether to say they were or they were not, and it appeared that Brent was closely watching for her answer. "I have one dance left." "Then, you shall dance it with me, if Mr. Ramsey has no objections." Mr. Ramsey, sensing a bewildering defeat, let go of his prize and coldly bowed.
Brent put his arm around Lydia’s waist to guide her through the crowd. "It seems, Miss Pierce, that you have come to let any gentleman put his hands about you. Or am I the only one that is always encountering you thus?" Lydia would have knocked away his hand, but she liked its presence, so she satisfied herself with giving him a cold look. "Is it the infamous Madame la Comtesse that has thus affected your principles?" "Perhaps I like Mr. Ramsey." "Then, it must follow that you like me even better." "Intolerable assumptions! Must you always be so disagreeable?" "It is the challenge, which I enjoy, and it is the thrill of being willful which you enjoy. Is it not?" Lydia bit her tongue. "You are like a naughty child, and indeed, I have congratulated myself on extricating myself from your childish grasp, which I care not for." "What do you mean?" Her voice was clipped, and he laughed before he answered, "I mean to say, that children hold no charms for me, although I did find your innocence alluring for a time." "Perhaps, you would be more interested in my friend la Comtesse." "That isn’t very kind to your friend." "She knows all about wild affairs and love." "I don’t suppose you truly mean ‘love,’ but this is polite company." Lydia jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "I make you very bad-tempered, don’t I? Before I came along you were so politely allowing Mr. Ramsey to hold you about the waist to his extreme satisfaction I’m sure, for I can attest to that ‘happiness’ as you might call it." "I don’t care to dance with you, Brent." "Yes you do," he said as he hauled her onto the cleared floor as the musicians began the next dance.
He continued to talk as they danced. "As for la Comtesse…she holds no charms for me." "And neither do I, so I can see no reason why you should ask me to dance." "Because you are a very fine dancer, Miss Pierce. Surely, you wouldn’t dare to believe that I had ulterior motives. And my retort is why did you agree to dance with me?" Lydia had no answer, or did not like the one she had. She only hoped the dance would quickly end, so her embarrassment could end as well. When the dance finished, Lydia bowed, and attempted to turn away, but Brent caught her arm holding her in place. "Tomorrow, in the Garden Room for drinks, and I don’t mean a glass of water, because for once you are going to act like an adult." Brent stared into her eyes, and Lydia could not blink; she nodded ‘yes.’
