Sick Of Shadows

CHAPTER THREE

“HOW ARE YOU coming with the invitations, Elizabeth?” asked Amanda, setting aside a silver ashtray on the pile of gifts.

“I’m down to the Ss already. Carlsen Shepherd.”

“Yes. Dr. Shepherd. Be sure to put ‘Doctor’ on the invitation. He’s Eileen’s analyst, and he’s coming down before the wedding for a visit.”

“Oh,” said Elizabeth. “What’s he like?”

“We haven’t met him,” Amanda replied. “I believe he’s connected with the university. Eileen consulted him entirely on her own, so naturally we’re anxious to meet him. I can’t help feeling that his connection with us is just temporary. Eileen’s own physician, Nancy Kimble, is spending a year in Vienna. I do wish she could have come for the wedding, but she sent Eileen some lovely linen napkins.”

“Kimble…” murmured Elizabeth, looking over the list of addresses. “Aunt Amanda, Dr. Kimble isn’t listed here. Did you mean to send her an invitation?”

“Oh, we did, dear. Several weeks ago. Your family should have gotten one about the same time. I sent out the invitations that mattered first. These are just after-thoughts-Eileen’s school friends and some people Michael wanted to ask.”

“How many people are you expecting?” asked Elizabeth, deciding to let Amanda’s last remark pass without comment.

“Oh, less than a hundred, I think,” her aunt replied. “Most of our friends from the country club will be there, of course, but I really don’t think anyone from out of town will drive all the way down here. Such a pity that Bill couldn’t come.”

“I think so, too,” said Elizabeth evenly.

“I suppose your father’s sales convention couldn’t be helped. Although I do think Margaret might have let him go alone just this once. But we’ll manage, won’t we? And, of course, Louisa will be a great help. I am depending on her to see to the flowers. She is simply the life and soul of the garden club. Have you seen her roses?”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Well, she’s bringing some over tonight to use as a centerpiece at dinner. Louisa and Alban are coming for dinner, by the way. We’ll stop in a few minutes so you can go upstairs and change. I need to freshen up myself. Oh, and you’ll get to see the lovebirds together. Now, you don’t need to hurry for dinner, Elizabeth. Take your time and unpack, because I’ve asked Mildred not to have it ready before dark. We want Eileen to be able to work on her painting as long as it’s light.”

“What is she painting?” asked Elizabeth, glancing at a gray and purple canvas on the wall.

“We don’t know. She won’t let a one of us see it. It’s going to be a wedding present for Michael. But I know she sets up her easel down by the lake, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a landscape.”

I would, thought Elizabeth, but she only smiled.

“There seems to be quite an artistic vein in our family,” Amanda continued. “What with my interest in interior decorating, Eileen’s art, and-”

“Alban’s castle,” said Elizabeth promptly.

“Er-yes. Alban’s new home. Of course, I do think that there were some aspects of the Victorian period which were a bit extreme…”

“Victorian?” said Elizabeth. “It looks medieval to me.”

Amanda favored her with a pitying smile. “Oh no, dear. It’s a replica of Neuschwanstein in Bavaria, which dates from 1869. It’s not quite identical, by the way. Alban didn’t copy the interior, I’m happy to say. Have you seen it? All gold leaf and dramatic murals. And, of course, Alban’s is smaller, though it’s still far too large for just the two of them, as I have told him many times.”

“I wonder he doesn’t get lost in it,” Elizabeth said.

“It would be different if he had a family. Such a shame about Merrileigh. I don’t believe he’s over it yet.”

“Who’s Merrileigh?”

“Merrileigh Williams. Didn’t you ever hear about it? Well, it was at least six years ago, so perhaps you were too young. She was a secretary in your Uncle Walter’s company. You know, he insisted that Alban work there when he first got out of the university. And while he was there, he met this Merrileigh, and decided to marry her. I thought at the time she was out to marry the boss’s son. For the money, you know.”

“Why didn’t she?” asked Elizabeth. “The castle?”

“Oh, no. It wasn’t built back then. We’re not really sure. Alban doesn’t discuss it, and of course we’re all too well bred to ask. I hope you won’t mention it, Elizabeth.”

Before Elizabeth could come up with a suitable reply, her aunt continued: “The wedding was all arranged. Louisa and I had to do the planning and arranging, by the way, because the girl didn’t have any close family. Still, I suppose it was good practice for me; but at the time I could have cried to think of all that work we did. And every bit of it for nothing.”

“I hadn’t heard that Alban was married,” said Elizabeth. She would have eloped, too, she thought, before the onslaught of Amanda’s social planning.

“Because he isn’t,” said Amanda. “Three days before the wedding that wretched girl jilted him. Not a one of us liked her, but we didn’t think she could be as common as that.”

“Did they have a fight?”

“Nobody knows. I don’t think so. Alban seemed just as puzzled as the rest of us. She was just gone. Alban went to her apartment and found that she had taken one suitcase of clothes and vanished. Not even a note of apology. And, of course, we had no idea of her background-though we feared the worst-so we couldn’t trace her. Poor dear Louisa just could not be made to believe that any girl would refuse her precious Alban. She went to the sheriff about it.”

“Did they find her?”

“They did not. But they turned up some rumors about a truck driver she had been running around with-which is no more than I expected all along. Louisa even wanted to hire a detective-for a reconciliation or a lawsuit, I don’t know which-and that scandalized all of us completely. Alban was too proud to let her, of course. He said people ought to know what they don’t want. I think he was well out of that trap, though. Heaven knows where she went. Some hippie commune, I expect.”

“Maybe Charles will find her, then,” said Elizabeth cheerfully.

After an ominous pause, Amanda said: “Charles and his associates are not hippies. They are simply individualists who feel close ties with nature, and who wish to live an uncluttered, philosophical life, much in the manner of Henry David Thoreau.”

Elizabeth was about to ask how this differed from hippie philosophy when Amanda continued: “Charles has always been so spiritual. Eileen is an artist, and Charles is a thinker!”

“And what is Geoffrey? Has anybody figured that out?” asked a voice from the doorway.

“Captain Grandfather!” cried Elizabeth, running to embrace the old man.

“Hello, Elizabeth. Welcome aboard. I see you’ve already been drafted,” he said, nodding toward the pile of invitations.

“You’re about to get a commission yourself,” Amanda replied. “We need somebody to mail these invitations. Remember to ask for commemorative stamps. They look nice. And while you’re in town, you might see if Eileen’s engraved stationery is ready. Let’s see… is there anything else?”

“Have you talked to that lawyer yet?”

“He’ll be here tomorrow. I thought I might ask him to lunch. You will be interested in meeting him, Elizabeth. He is not married. I don’t know how long the business will take, though…”

“Depends on if he charges by the hour,” snapped Captain Grandfather. “Who’s coming to handle it? Bryce or that young fella?”

“Mr. Bryce’s partner, Mr. Simmons, is coming. I believe Al Bryce has to be in court.”

“Court indeed. Tennis court, maybe,” her father retorted. “Don’t blame him, wouldn’t bother with paper-signing myself, if I had a partner fresh out of law school. Silly business, anyway. Silly will. Just what I’d have expected from my sister. She had a lot of nerve naming me executor, I can tell you that!”

“Well, Dad, you might look in and remind Mr. Simmons about tomorrow, though I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten. Dinner’s not until eight tonight, by the way, so you’ll have plenty of time. Oh, and Alban and Louisa are coming.”

Captain Grandfather grunted a reply, and turned to Elizabeth. “Seen the castle?”

“Only the outside,” said Elizabeth. “Are there tours?”

“Ought to be!” he snapped. “Well, I’m off. Where are those letters I’m supposed to mail?”

Elizabeth handed him the invitations.

“Thank you, my dear. I’d ask you to ride along, but I’m sure you’ve had enough riding for one day. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” teased Elizabeth, and he tossed her a mock salute as he left.

“Really,” sighed Amanda. “He’s almost as bad as Alban. I declare, he’d build a battleship if the lake were any bigger. Don’t encourage him. You know how old people can be.”

“Oh, I think he’s the same as ever,” said Elizabeth. “He’s always been enthusiastic about ships, but I don’t think he’s out of touch with reality.”

“No, of course not!” Amanda agreed. “Just tiresome. We have ships for breakfast, lunch, and dinner in this house. He’s trying to work up a project for using sailing vessels for coast guard patrols, or something like that. I’m afraid he’ll just bore everybody to death at the wedding. Dad is a very brilliant man, but geniuses tend to forget that the rest of us don’t want to hear about their projects at every waking moment. Oh, Elizabeth! Before you go upstairs, let me just show you our display of wedding presents. We’ve fixed up a table in the library to display them. Some of them are just lovely.”

Elizabeth had been given the guest room next to Eileen’s bedroom. Its decor of rose and pink marked it as the one reserved for female guests. The dainty satin bedspread and matching canopy and the carved walnut furniture reflected Amanda’s view of country elegance.

Elizabeth had put her clothes in the chest of drawers and stashed her suitcase in the closet. The bridesmaid dress would probably need pressing before the rehearsal. Looking at herself in the dresser mirror, she wondered what one wore to have dinner with the king of the castle. Royal blue, she thought, smiling. In the end, she settled for a green print dress and Mexican sandals.

If he comes as a Prussian general, he’ll just have to lump it, she thought.

She had hoped to talk again with Geoffrey, to find out what to expect of this dinner, but he hadn’t reappeared. Amanda, too, had vanished about five o’clock, saying that she spent the hours before dinner resting.

Elizabeth occasionally tried to picture a Napoleonic Alban, but the image wouldn’t come. She couldn’t even remember what he looked like. Alban was ten years older than Bill, which made him twelve years her senior, and there certainly hadn’t been anything outstanding about him that she could recall from her childhood visits to Chandler Grove. The pony she remembered with perfect clarity, but Alban’s face was a vague blur with rather short brown hair and brown or hazel eyes. He had been much too preoccupied with his own concerns to pay any attention to Elizabeth or his other cousins. Then when she was eleven and Bill thirteen, their father had been transferred to a company office six states away, and the visits stopped altogether. Her mother’s family became voices calling long distance or gloves and bath powder at Christmas time. She doubted if she would even have been asked to participate in the wedding, except for the fact that Eileen had no close friends-at least, none that her mother was prepared to see in a formal wedding ceremony.

Amanda’s seasonal letters to her sister’s family had been voluminous on the subjects of tomato plants and carpeting. She lavished great detail on her own occasional indispositions-her every headache was a migraine-but on the subject of Eileen’s illness she was consistently reticent. Therefore, Elizabeth knew very few of the details. Amanda mentioned it first as “Eileen’s sensitive nature,” or “bad dreams and other signs of a delicate temperament.” Just what symptoms were masked by these euphemisms the MacPhersons were not told. Finally Amanda announced in a letter that her daughter had been sent away to a “finishing school” that specialized in dealing with sensitive girls. The MacPhersons knew that Cherry Hill was a private and rather expensive mental institution, but they never betrayed this knowledge to Amanda, though Bill was fond of alluding to it in ambiguous jests.

Eileen had been out of Cherry Hill for a year now, during which time she had been enrolled in the university as an art major, though she had produced no works except for small sketches assigned as class projects, which she did not bring home.

Elizabeth wondered what her family felt about her engagement or her present health. Whatever she learned would not come from Amanda.