Brent did visit very soon again, and much sooner than the Pierces would have liked. They only hoped that people would understand why such a man was invited into their house. Brent also kept his promise to Lydia. He brought a book: Sir Walter Scott's Ivanhoe. "Have you ever read it?" "No, but why ever Ivanhoe?" "You seem to me like someone who would enjoy a good tale about Robinhood, and then it is very long…I shall have to stay for days to finish it." "Robinhood is in it?" "Oh yes, and many more very heroic and silly characters. I find it chilling and humorous." "You’ve read it already?" "Oh yes. I read it as a boy. It was in my father’s library, and when I left I took this wonderful piece with me." "Then I should like you to read it to me." "We shall start right off: "In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest…" (Ivanhoe).
Brent came very often for two weeks while Lydia stayed in the house, and he would sit next to her on her bed or later on the couch and read to her out of one of the Victorians’ favorite books. Lydia was very glad of his company, and she found him to be more agreeable than he had ever reliably been before. They had gotten all the way to chapter XXXV, when abruptly Brent stopped coming to read to her. Lydia was heartbroken, but her family was well pleased, for they had much disliked the attention Brent Howard paid Lydia. For some time Lydia restrained from reading the copy of the book that Brent had left at her aunt’s house, but gradually she picked the book up to finish it. She made up excuses for Brent’s absence, but did not believe them. What made it worse was that she had no one to confide in, and she had to carry her secret deep inside of her. Her secret was too shocking; even Robert and Valerie could not be trusted to keep her secret. And now that Brent had stopped coming, she almost hated herself--hated herself for letting herself be hurt.
Brent stopped coming, because he had been informed by a friend of the Pierce family that Miss Lydia was "intended for a gentleman in Boston, who is dreadfully rich and comes from an excellent family." Besides knowing that this was meant as a warning, Brent wondered why Lydia had never mentioned this man. He assumed that she either did not know or was not pleased with the prospect. That Lydia had an intended might not have mattered to Brent, but this knowledge was compounded by the guilt he felt in regards to his behavior towards Lydia thus far. The thought that he might be jeopardizing her chances at a good match made him feel that he ought to step out of the picture entirely. His decision did not take into account that Lydia might not care for this Bostonian: despite professing to despise the mindset of the upper class, it so happened that he found himself believing that she was indeed better off with someone with money and good standing. Whatever was ‘good’ for her should come to be whether she liked it or not. Brent did not consider the care of the spirit, and even if he would have, he probably would have thought himself the worst thing for Lydia’s spirit. ‘What was good for her’ meant nothing more than being a part of the best society and having all of society’s approval as the rich wife of a well-established man. So, Brent avoided the Pierce family altogether and they accordingly avoided him with great relief. As Lydia’s mother remarked, "now we can get back to the business of finding Lydia suitable company, even here at Rock Lucian, as I was beginning to fear that Howard man was seeking a claim on our dearest treasure!"
The Pierces had soured on Rock Lucian ever since the ‘incident’ as they euphemistically referred to it. After some time had passed, they came to the decision that there was little hope that they would find a suitable husband for Lydia amongst this company. They worried that her chances in Rock Lucian had been materially damaged by some of the nasty rumors that had made the rounds directly after the incident. By staying and receiving support from some of the other well-respected families in Rock Lucian for the summer, the Pierces had actually put the majority of that speculation behind them. No one would have dared to accuse them of something inappropriate now, but they were unsure as to whether she was considered a superior catch anymore. Her chances would be better back in Boston when the season started. She was no longer too young and the beauty of her youth had in no way faded. Her cousins heartily believed that she had grown even more enchanting since the time that she had first arrived that summer. Lydia attributed these compliments to the changes Josephine had wrought on some of her attire.
Josephine continued to be viewed by the family as a unavoidable evil. She was of very high birth, even higher marriage, and she was beautiful and well educated. Her flirtatious manners were passed off as the results of an European upbringing and tolerated as foreign ways. If the Pierces were lucky, they hoped Josephine might help Lydia find an exceptionally good match. During this time, having Josephine with her was of some consolation to Lydia. Lydia would have told Josephine everything if she asked, Lydia often thought. Now that Brent no longer visited, Josephine was her only true companion.
One morning Josephine brought Lydia a very exciting bit of communication: she had received a letter from her lover, the Comte de Orville. Josephine was very excited when she arrived at the Pierces: she was not her usual careless self. "You act as if you had a bee in your bonnet, Josephine. What is the matter?" "I’ve received a letter from someone." She pulled a folded letter out of the pocket of her heavy full skirts. She held it to her chest. "Lydia, darling, Russell has written me…it is a stunning love letter, my dear. I am certain that his language will shock you. In fact, I hope you are shocked, because he is so passionate." "You want me to read it?" "It is better than any novel you will ever read, because it is genuine, my dear." As Josephine handed Lydia the letter, Lydia retorted slightly peeved, "you must think my life terribly boring."
Lydia unfolded the letter and caught the heavy scent of musk. The handwriting was very beautiful and clear to read. The language was slightly shocking even in French, and she was unfamiliar with some of the vocabulary used, but the meaning was clear. The main thread was that the Comte de Orville was drying up without her, could find no satisfaction with others, and would go to the ends of the earth to be with her again. "What do you think it means, Josephine?" "He burns for me, darling!" Lydia blushed. "Well, I am shocked. It is the most…passionate thing I’ve ever laid eyes on." "He is so extraordinary!" "Had you written him?" "Oh no! I waited for him to write me." "Forgive me, but it took him awhile." "That doesn’t bother me. It has arrived, and I don’t doubt that he will arrive soon as well." "Josephine, may I be a terrible busy body?" "Yes." "Josephine, what will you do when the Comte arrives? You still have a child and a husband. Don’t you think you need to reconcile with your husband, the Comte de Feuillide?" Josephine carefully considered Lydia’s questions. "My dear, I’m afraid you do not understand what it is to have married the wrong man. My husband is not the man for me. The Comte de Orville is gorgeous; he is the perfect man. I love him Lydia." "Then you must miss him greatly." "I must say I am a terrible lover, wife, and mother. I barely think of anyone, because I have taught myself to find enjoyment where I can. It is a nice trick. Russell is much the same way, as soon as I am out of sight ‘poof!’ He has taken up with some pretty girl, but when I am near, he is very devoted and follows me about like a puppy. That he thinks of me after so long an absence makes me feel rather exceptional, and now I shall devote myself to him." "Your son…" "Yes, he is a beautifully dear child, but he is well taken care of. I shouldn’t wish to drag him from his pretty world. Russell and I will leave him…and the Comte de Feuillide of course…alone." "Shall you ask for a divorce?" "I don’t suppose so, I have no burning need to marry the Comte de Orville, so there is no reason. I have had my taste of marriage, and while it wasn’t wholly unpleasant, I find the thrill of affairs much more pleasing."
"And my parents suppose that you will find me a husband," Lydia laughed. "Who should you like to marry?" Josephine teased. Lydia twisted her fingers in her hair, pretending not to have heard the question. "You are precious, Lydia, honestly. I can’t imagine you marrying any of these boys though. You seem so unimpressed by them. You need a Frenchman, my dear. Their passion is famous." "Infamous…so I have heard," Lydia laughed. "Come now, perhaps you will settle for a Mr. Bête Noire or a Mr. Argent Comptant." Lydia laughed at Josephine’s cleverness. "No, I don’t think I will, Josephine. More and more I don’t think I will." Josephine saw something in her friend’s look that spoke to her romantic sensibilities. "Lydia, darling, have you been keeping something from me?" Lydia looked down again at the letter and handed it back to Josephine without meeting her eyes. "Darling, you’ve gone pale. Someone has affected you greatly it appears." Lydia looked up: "Josephine, it isn’t that I have any hope of…" unable to stop herself, she began to cry. Josephine encircled her in her arms. "Darling! Who is it?" "Mr. Howard," Lydia whispered between sobs. Josephine pulled back, shocked. Then she thought for a minute. "Why it’s only natural, my dear. He saved you; of course you have strong feelings for him. There, there. And he is very handsome, I must say. Very handsome." Lydia felt better for having exposed some of herself, even if Josephine did not comprehend her feelings.
Chapter 17
There were only a few weeks left of the summer season at Rock Lucian. Soon the crowds would start ebbing away, leaving the locals to a quieter and less sophisticated life. Other than the incident that had shaken their lives there was little else to excite the Pierces. No one, including Robert, had become newly engaged nor anything remotely close to such a accomplishment, which was the main test. Lydia’s spirit was down, but she was not the only one who was feeling badly. She had noticed Valerie sitting around doing nothing with a poor look about her. Mrs. Kenneth Pierce was no better, being mightily disappointed in her children and only looking forward dismally to her eldest son’s marriage, even if the girl was not "quite good enough for us." Lydia’s mother was suffering from the same let down, and also under the constant thought that people here were "upstarts and climbers." Her opinion had been thus changed by the incident, and she wanted to be rushed home to Boston, where there were young men who "deserved a girl such as Lydia" supposedly proliferated. Lydia began to doubt whether they would ever return to Rock Lucian. The thought of empty hot summers in Boston made her physically ill.
Even Josephine was not as entertaining anymore. It was as she promised: now that the Comte de Orville had shown devotion to her, she demonstrated complete devotion to him. Lydia thought she had never seen anyone so good at being lovesick. Josephine was constantly giving forth heavy sighs worthy of romantic novels. She made a fuss about his portrait and carried his letter with her, if only to smell him about her. She was much better at it than Lydia’s friends in Boston, who thought themselves very dramatic. The fact that she was always mumbling in French helped immensely: "Everything is more melancholic and beautiful in French, my dear. All great lovers must speak French," Josephine had lectured and truly believed. Some days she devoted entirely to thoughts of her beloved and would speak to no one. So, while Josephine was a good lesson in heartfelt mourning and sometimes amusing, she was all together not a very stimulating companion.
***
Brent was not fairing all that well, after several weeks had passed since he had seen Lydia. This was not due to the culpability he might have felt for not explaining his sudden disappearance. On that regard, he assured himself that Lydia was not likely to notice or take mind of his absence.
Brent was having a drink by himself in the most extravagant restaurant outside of The Bell, brooding, when a certain Marlene Seymour destroyed his solace. He did not see her approach, because he was in his own world that evening, as he was frequently of late. She leaned over the table getting into his line of sight. When he saw her he said nothing. "Brent! Lord! Where have you been? God, it’s been ages at least!" Her voice was loud and unmanaged. She pulled out a chair uninvited. "Where have you been hiding? In high society? Lord, have I heard things about you! You would never believe what everyone’s saying," she sighed, flopping inelegantly into the chair and leaning back as she fanned herself with a pink-feathered fan. Brent swallowed the rest of his drink. "It’s quite a surprise seeing you here, Marlene." His voice was rough and cutting, but she was too involved in appearing to her best advantage to notice, and his insult did not get through to her. "God Brent, I’m terribly dry. Do get me a drink. Do you like my dress Brent? You got it for me." He looked at her garish pink dress with all the ruffles and tucks: it was horrible, but obviously expensive. He made a face. "I don’t think so, Marlene." "Oh, I’m so sure you did. I don’t know where else I would get such a thing." "One of your other friends, I’m sure." She touched his arm with her fan laughing. "Don’t be jealous, Brent! I only love you, darling. And you are so much richer than anyone else I know is. Anyway, I came here all by myself, and I was lucky enough to find you here. Are you getting me a drink?" He sighed and waved over the server. "Could you get me another of the same and something hard for the lady, thank you."
She slid her chair over next to Brent’s from across the table. She put her hand on his thigh. "Have you missed me?" "I’m afraid you wouldn’t like my answer. Please, we are in a decent establishment…I wouldn’t expect you to know how to behave, but please try." She laughed. "How you do run on, Brent. What a terrible racket you are making tonight. I would say you haven’t had any intimate relations lately, but I know that isn’t true, because I’ve heard things about you, Brent." She pouted, obviously thinking that this particular expression would do much to make her appealing. "I would watch yourself, Marlene." She smiled as her drink was brought to her. Marlene did not drink, as a lady should, her wrist action belayed practice. "Who has been buying your booze, Marlene?" She ignored him. "I don’t think you love me anymore Brent, and I was so glad to see you when I came in." "I’m sure you were," his sarcasm was heavy. "Do you love me Brent?" She whispered in his ear and touched his thigh again this time higher up. "Marlene, I’m not up for your games. Drink." "What a shame, when I saw you I thought you could use company." "Not yours, my pet."
Brent tried to ignore her presence but her mouth would not be silent and she was leaning closer and closer to him. ‘She is really out for meat tonight. Poor cat, what does she want? A dress…a bottle of champagne?’ She cut him a cigar and placed it in his mouth, resting her hand on his shoulder. He lit the cigar and puffed on it. "Who’s that Brent?" "Who’s who?" "The society girl over there with the French Lady? The two staring at us?" He looked up, seeing for the first time Lydia and Josephine. Lydia’s hands flew to her mouth and Josephine put her arms around her to shelter her. As the two women were turning to leave the restaurant, Marlene kissed Brent’s cheek. Brent wanted to get up, but something held him back: guilt, shame, and foolish male pride.
"That was odd. A society girl crying in public, and a real young one too. Lord, but don’t you know I’ve met the French Lady. She came to one of our parties with some man. She wasn’t arrogant or anything, and quite the hit of the party, but I don’t suppose she remembers me. She is so fashionable…what a lady." "You wouldn’t know a lady if she hit you in the face." "I wonder who that was she was with?" Brent turned his face away from Marlene’s vulgar questioning. "Oh Lord! She isn’t that girl you were doing? Lord the one who had to be rescued!" Brent fiercely answered, "If you were a man Marlene, I would strike you." "So it was her. Well, I’m much better looking than she is, and I’m sure I’m better at other things as well," she said laughing. Brent said to no one in particular under his breath, "So this is the company that I’m to keep." He looked at her dyed blond hair and her rouged cheeks and lips. "Don’t flatter yourself, my dear." "Get me another drink Brent, and then let’s get out of here. These people are fine to mix with when they want you, but a terrible bore if not." Brent and Marlene both had another drink, and Brent was feeling successfully drunk when they left the restaurant. It helped his drunkenness that he felt like hell to begin with: he was nearly out of sorts when they climbed into the carriage outside.
"Where to sir?" Brent didn’t answer. "The Bell," answered Marlene. Marlene threw her leg over Brent and began to kiss and grasp him. "I know your little society girl couldn’t have known what she was doing, Brent," she whispered hoarsely while vulgarly kneading him. Brent was not listening to her at all. Marlene petted him all the way to The Bell, but Brent was outside of his body: he was somewhere else. They arrived at the resort, and Marlene led the way to his apartment. Inside she made a drink for herself and one for Brent. He gladly took it, because he did not want to be himself: the last thing he wanted was to be sober at the moment. He sat down in one of the chairs in the main room.
Marlene came over to him having finished her glass and she straddled him in the chair and began to take off his coat and tie. He swallowed the rest of the liquor in his glass and dropped it on the ground where it did not break, because of the thick carpet. He made no move to help or hinder Marlene as she kissed him and unbuttoned his shirt. She slid off his lap and kneeling on the floor began to unbutton his pants. Brent stood up abruptly, "Marlene, how many times this week have you done that filthy act on how many different men?" Marlene sat back on her heels stung. Brent was the only man who had never treated her like this. "And what did they give you in return? Look, I don’t want what you have to offer my dear." He pulled out his pocket book and threw a number of bills at her. "I’m not a whore, Brent," she said nevertheless gathering the bills up in her clenched hands. "You might as well be. I would appreciate your leaving my apartment." She stood up and walked towards the door. "At least I’m not crying. I have my pride." She slammed the door behind her.
After she left, Brent felt sadly amiss that he had treated her so poorly, when she had known no better, having been raised to no higher standards. She had not deserved the disrespectful way he had dealt with her, when it was his own demons that tormented him. He felt like he would rather be dead than alive at the moment. Following that night, Brent did a great deal of drinking in the succeeding days. Yet, his grief was no greater than Lydia’s, who was totally humiliated and broken hearted.
