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addendum TO THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ouvia win field fox worth
to BE OPENED TWENTY YEARS

AFTER MY DEATH.

I have been forced to leave this record.  Had others not decided to
tell my story for their own gain, the secrets of the Fbxworths would
have been buried in my grave with me.  Cruelty comes in many
forms--ignorance is one of them.  Because of ignorance, I have been
judged.  Now I have gone to Him, the only judge whose verdict matters,
and accepted His pronouncement on my soul.  Those of you who remain
below will here come to know the true story.  And knowing the truth,
judge me if you dare.

Olivia Winfield Fbxworth

The Kill Bud of Spring when I WAS A LITTLE GIRL, MY FATHER BOUGHT ME A
priceless handcrafted dollhouse.  It was a magical miniature world,
with beautiful tiny porcelain dolls, furniture, even paintings and
chandeliers and rugs all made to scale.  But the house was enclosed in
a glass case and I was never allowed to touch the family
inside--indeed, I was not even permitted to touch the glass case, for
fear of leaving smudges.  Dainty things had always been at peril in my
large hands, and the dollhouse was for me to admire but never to
touch.

I kept it on an oak table under the sash of stainedglass windows in my
bedroom.  The sun coming through the tinted windows always spread a
soft, rainbow colored sky over the tiny universe and put the light of
happiness into the faces of the miniature family.  Even the servants in
the kitchen, the butler dressed in white livery who stood near the
entrance door, and the nanny in the nursery all wore looks of
contentment.

That was as it should be, as it should always be--as I fervently hoped
and prayed it would be for me someday.

That miniature world was without shadows; for, even on overcast days,
when clouds hung their gloom outside, the tinted-glass windows
magically turned the gray light into rainbows.

The real world, my own world, seemed always to be gray, without
rainbows.  Gray for my eyes, which I had always been told were too
stern, gray for my hopes, gray for the old maid no one wanted in the
deck of cards.  At twenty-four, I was an old maid, already a spinster.
It seemed I intimidated eligible young men with my height and
intelligence.  It seemed that the rainbow world of love and marriage
and babies would always be as closed off to me as that dollhouse I so
admired.  For it was only in make-believe that my hopes took wing.

In my fantasies I was pretty, lighthearted, charming, like the other
young women I had met but never befriended.  Mine was a lonely Life,
filled mostly with books and dreams.  And though I did not talk about
it, I clung to the small hope my dear mother had given me just before
she died.

"Life is very much like a garden, Olivia.  And people are tike tiny
seeds, nurtured by love and friendship and caring.  And if enough time
and care are spent, they bloom into gorgeous flowers.  And sometimes,
even an old, neglected plant left in a yard gone to seed will
unexpectedly burst into btossom.  These are the most precious, the most
cherished blossoms of all.  You will be that sort of flower, Olivia. It
may take time, but your flowering will come."

How I missed my optimistic mother.  I was sixteen when she died--just
when I most needed to have those woman-to-woman talks with her that
would tell me how Garden of Shadows to win a man's heart, how to be
like her; respectable, competent, yet a woman in every way.  My mother
was forever involved in one thing or another, and in everything she was
competent and in charge.  She threaded her way through each crisis, and
when one ended, there was always another to replace it.  My father
seemed content that she was busy.  It mattered not with what.

He often said that just because women weren't involved in serious
business, that didn't mean they should be idle.  They had their
"womanly" things to do.

Yet, when it came to me, he encouraged me to go to business school.  It
seemed right and proper that I would become his private accountant,
that he would give me a place in his den, a manly room with one wall
covered with firearms and another with pictures from his hunting and
fishing expeditions, a room that always had the odor of cigar smoke and
whiskey, its dark brown rug the most worn-looking of any rug in the
house.  He set aside a portion of his large black oak wood desk for me
to work meticulously on his accounts, his business expenses, his
employees' wages, and even his household expenses.  Working with my
father, I often felt more like the son he had always longed for but
never got than the daughter I was.

Oh, I did want to please, but it seemed I would never be just what
anyone wanted.

He used to say I would be a great help to any husband, and I used to
believe that was why he was so determined I would get a business
education and have that experience.  He didn't come out and say it in
so many words, but I could hear them anyway a woman six feet tall
needed something more to capture a man's love... , , ": .  :."-- , Yes,
I was six feet tall; I had shot up as a teenager, much to my dismay, to
giant proportions.  I was the beanstalk in Jack's garden.  I was the
giant. There was nothing dainty or fragile about me.

I had my mother's auburn hair, but my shoulders were too wide and my
bosom large.  I often stood before my mirror and wished my arms
shorter.  My gray eyes were too long and catlike and my nose was too
sharp.  My lips were thin, my complexion pale and gray.

Gray, gray, gray.  How I longed to be pretty and bright.

But when I sat before my vanilla marble vanity table trying to blush
and to nutter my eyelashes took flirtatious I managed only to look a
fool.  I didn't want to look empty-headed and silly, yet I couldn't
help but sit before the glass-encased dollhouse and study the pretty,
deHcate porcelain face of the tiny wife.  How I wished it were my face.
Maybe then this would be my world.

But it was not.  , And so I left my hope encased with the porcelain
figures and went about my way.

If my father had really expected to make me more attractive to a man by
providing me with an education and practical business experience, he
must have been sorely disappointed in the result.  Gentlemen came and
went, all coming because of his manipulations, I discovered; and still
I was yet to be courted and loved.  I was always afraid that my money,
my father's money, money I would inherit, would bring a man to the door
pretending to be in love with me.  I think my father feared the same
thing, because he came to me one day and said, "I have written into my
will that whatever money you receive shall be only yours and yours to
do & Garden of Shadows with what you like.  No husband will ever
expect to take control of your fortune simply by marrying you."

He made his announcement and left before I could even respond.  Then he
screened any candidates for my romance carefully, exposing me only to
the highest class of gentleman, men of some fortune themselves.  I had
yet to meet one I didn't lower over, or one who wouldn't scowl at the
things I said.  It seemed I'd die a spinster.

But my father wouldn't have it so.

"There's a young man coming to dinner tonight," he began one Friday
morning late in April, "who I must say is one of the most impressive
I've met.  I want you to wear that blue dress you had made for yourself
last Easter."

"Oh, Rather."  It was on the tip of my tongue to say, "Why bother," but
he anticipated my reaction.

"Don't argue about it, and for heaven's sake don't start in on the
woman suffrage movement when we're at the table."

My eyes flamed.  He knew how I hated to be bridled like one of his
horses.

"A man no sooner shows some interest in you than you challenge the most
treasured of manly privileges.  It never fails.  The blue dress," he
repeated, and pivoted and left before I could offer an argument It
seemed pointless to me to igo through the rituals at my vanity table. I
shampooed: my hair vigorously and then sat down to brush it a hundred
times, softening it and pinning it back neatly but not too harsh with
the ivory combs my father had given me for Christmas the previous
year.

My father didn't know or even seem to recognize that I had commissioned
the "blue dress" because I wanted a dress that looked like the dresses
women wore in fashion photographs.  The bodice was low enough to expose
some of the fullness of my bosom, and the tight waist gave me a
suggestion of an "hourglass" figure.  It was made of silk, and the.
material was exceptionally soft and had a sheen to it like nothing else
I owned.  The sleeves were cut just above the elbow.  I thought that
made my arms look shorter.

I put on my mother's blue sapphire pendant, which I thought made my
neck look slimmer  There was a blush in my cheeks but I couldn'tsayifit
was there because of my healthy body or because of my nervousness.  I
was nervous.  I'd been through enough of those evenings before watching
the man's face fall as he rose to greet me and I towered over him.

I was merely rehearsing for another failure.

By the time I went downstairs, my father's guest had arrived.  They
were together in the den.  I heard my father's loud laughter, and then
I heard the gentleman's voice, low but deeply resonant, the voice of a
man with some confidence.  I pressed my palms against my hips to dry
off the wetness and proceeded to the doorway of the den.

The moment I appeared, Malcolm Neal Foxworth stood up and my heart
skipped a beat.  He was at least six foot two and easily the most
handsome young man who had ever come to our house.

"Malcolm," my father said, "I'm proud to present my lovely daughter."

He took my hand and Said, "Charmed, Miss Winfield."

I was looking directly into his sky-blue eyes.  And he was gazing just
as fortarightly into mine.  I'd never believed in schoolgirl romantic
notions such as love at first sight, but I felt his gaze slide right
over my heart and lodge in the pit of my stomach.

He had flaxen blond hair, a little longer in the back than most men
wore, but the strands were brushed neatly and looked heavenly light. He
had a strong Roman nose and a thin straight mouth.  Broadshouldered,
slim-hipped, he had an almost athletic air about him.  And I could tell
by the way he was gazing at me, with almost a wry smile of amusement,
that he was quite accustomed to women falling into a flutter about him.
Well, I thought, I mustn't give him something more to be amused at
Olivia Winfield.  Of course, such a man would hardly give me the time
of day, and I would have to get through another evening of Bather's
doomed matchmaking.  I shook his hand firmly, smiled back, and quickly
looked away.

After we were introduced, my father explained that Malcolm had come to
New London from Yale, where he had attended a class reunion.  He was
interested in investing in the shipbuilding industry because he
believed that with the Great War over, the markets for exporting would
develop.  From what I learned of his background that night, I
understood that he already owned a number of cloth factories, had
commanding interest in a few banks, and owned some lumber mills in
Virginia.  He was in business with his father, but his father, even
though he was only fifty-five, was distracted.  I didn't learn until
later what that meant.

At dinner I tried to be the polite, quiet observer that my father
wanted me to be^ the way my mother used to be.  Margaret and Philip,
our servants, served anele gant dinner of beef Wellington, a menu my
father had chosen himself.  He did so only on special occasions.  I
Garden of Shadows thought my father was being quite obvious when he
said, "Olivia's a college graduate, you know.  She has a business
degree and handles a major portion of my bookkeeping."

"Really?"  Malcolm seemed genuinely impressed.

His cerulean blue eyes brightened even more with interest and I felt he
was taking a second, more serious look at me.

"Do you enjoy the work.  Miss Winfield?"

I shot a glance at my father,^ who sat back in his high-backed
light-maple chair and nodded as if prompting my responses.  I did so
want this Malcolm Fbxworth to like me, but I was determined to be who I
was ...; .  / "-"' .  "It's better to fill your time with sensible and
productive things," I said.

"Even for a woman."

My father's smile faded, but Malcolm's widened.

"I

totally agree," he said.  He didn't turn back to my father.

"I find most so-called beautiful women vapid and rather silly.  It's as
if their good looks are enough to see them through life.  I prefer
intelligent women who know how to think for themselves, women who can
be real assets to their husbands."

My father cleared his throat.

"Yes, yes," he said, and turned the conversation back to the shipping
industry.

He had it from good sources that the merchant marine fleet, built for
the war effort, would soon be offered to private owners.  His topic
took Malcolm's attention for most of the dinner, but nevertheless, I
felt Malcolm's eyes on me and at times, when I looked up at him, he was
smiling at me.

Never had I sat with one of my father's guests and been so enraptured.
Never had I felt as welcome at the table.  Malcolm was polite to my
father, but it was clear to me that he wanted to talk more to me.

Garden of' Shadows

To me' The handsomest man ever to come to our house was interested in
me?  But he could have a hundred beautiful girls to adore him forever.
Why should he be interested in a Plain Jane such as I?  But oh how I
wanted to believe I wasn't imagining all those side glances, those
times he asked me to pass him things he could have easily gotten
himself, the way he tried to bring me into the conversation.  Perhaps,
just for a few hours I could allow my slight bud of hope to blossom.

Just for tonight!  Tomorrow I'd let it gray again.

After dinner Malcolm and my father adjourned to the den to smoke their
cigars and talk more about the investments Malcolm wanted to make. With
them my hopes, so briefly flowered, so qufckly withered.  Of course
Malcolm wasn't interested in me--he was interested in business with my
father.  They would be in there for the rest of the evening. I Bright
as well retire to my room to read that new novel that was attracting
attention, Edith Whartoa's Age of Innocence.  But I decided instead to
bring the book down to the sitting room and read by the Tiffany lamp,
happy to see Malcolm just to say goodbye.

It was very quiet on our street that time of evening, but I looked up
to see a couple walking arm in arm.  It was the way the husband and
wife in my glass-encased doll world would walk if they could escape
their imprisonment, I thought.  I watched them until they disappeared
around the corner.  How I wished I could someday walk with a man like
that--a man like Malcolm;

But it was not to be.  It seemed God was deaf to my hopes and prayers
for love.  I sighed.  As I turned back to my book, I realized all I
could know of love and life would be from books.

Garden of Shadows Then I spied Malcolm in the doorway.  Why, he had
been watching me!  He stood so straight and still, his shoulders drawn
back, his head high.  There was a calculating look in his eyes, as if
he were sizing me up unawares, but I didn't know what to make of it.

"Oh!"  My surprise brought heat to my cheeks.  My heart began to thump
so loudly, I thought he might even hear k across the room.

"It is a lovely evening," he said.

"Could I interest you in a walk?"

For a moment I just stared.  He wanted to take me out walking!

"Yes," I said.  I could see he liked the way I came to a quick
decision.  I didn't try to flutter my eyelashes or act uncertain to
tease him with my answer.  I wanted to go for a walk and I wanted very
much to go for a walk with him.  If I had a hope that what appeared to
be his interest in me would flower, I was going to be just who I was.

"I'll just run up and get my coat."  I was glad fora reason to go off
and catch my breath.

Malcolm was waiting at the front door when I returned.  Philip had
gotten him his overcoat and stood beside him waiting to open the door.
I wondered where my father was and if this was something he might have
arranged.  But even though I knew Malcolm only a short while, I
believed he was not a man to do something he didn't want to do.

When Philip opened the front door, I caught a look of satisfaction in
his eyes.  He approved of this gentle man.

Malcolm took my arm and escorted me down the six front steps.  Both of
us were quiet as we proceeded down the walkway until we reached the
front gate.

Malcolm opened the gate and stepped back to permit Garden of Shadows
me to pass through first.  It was a cool April evening, with just a
hint of spring in the air.  The trees by the gate stiH reached into the
sky with bare gray arms, but their arms were softened by hundreds of
tiny buds about to spring to life.  Yet winter's chill still hung in
the air, still hung in me.  For a crazy moment I wished to turn to
Malcolm and bury myself in his arms, something I'd certainly never done
with a man, not even my father.  I determinedly Walked ahead and
pointed toward the river.

"If we goto the end of the street here," I said, "and turn right, we
have a beautiful view of the Thames River."

"Pine."  he said.

It was always a fantasy of mine to walk along the banks of the river on
aspring evening with a man who was falling in love with me.  I was a
blur of emotion--so many hopes and fears, confusion, frightening
feelings moving through my body, I felt dizzy.  But I couldn't let
Malcolm see my agitation, so I kept my bearing straight, my head high
as we walked.  The lights of the ships moved up and down with their
cargo.  On a night as dark as that one was, the lights on the water in
the distance looked like fireflies caught in cobwebs.

"Rather beautiful view," he said.

"Yes."

"How is it," he said, "that your father hasn't married you off yet?  I
won't insult your intelligence and tell you that you're beautiful; but
you are extremely attractive and it's quite apparent that-you have an
extraordinary mind.  How is it no man has captured you yet?"

"How is it you haven't taken a wife?"  I responded.  He laughed.

"Answer a question with a question.

Well, Miss Winfield," he said, "if you must know, I find most women
today tedious with their effort to be beguiling.  A man who is serious
about his life, who is determined to build something significant of
himself and his family, must, it seems to me, avoid this type."

"Aad this is the only kind of woman you've known?"

I asked.  I couldn't see precisely, of course, but I felt he blushed.

"Haven't you searched for others?"

"No.  I've been too occupied with my business," We paused, and he
looked out at the ships.

"If I may be a little forward," he went on, "I feel you and I share
some things in common.  From what your father tells me and from what I
can observe, you are a serious-minded person, pragmatic and diligent.
You appreciate the business world already, and therefore you are
already head and shoulders above most women in this country today."

"Because of the way most men have treated them," I said quickly.  I
nearly bit my lip.  I wasn't going to express my controversial
opinions, but the words just seemed to form on my lips by themselves.

"I don't know.  Maybe," he said quickly.

"The point is, it's true.  And you know," he said, taking my elbow
gently and turning me so we would walk on, "we have other things in
common as well.  We both lost our mothers at an early age.  Your father
explained your circumstances," he added quickly, "so I hope you don't
feel I'm intruding."

"No.  You lost your mother at an early age?"

"Five."  His voice grew somber and faraway.

"Oh, how hard it must have been."

"Sometimes," he said, "the harder things arc, the better we become.  Or
should I say, the tougher."

Indeed, he did sound tough when he said that, so cold that I feared to
ask him more.

We walked on that night.  I listened to him talk about his various
enterprises.  We had a little discussion about the upcoming
presidential elections and be was surprised at how informed I was about
the candidates vying for the Republican and Democratic nominations.

I was sorry when we reached my house so soon, but then I thought, at
least I had my walk with a handsome young man.  I thought it would be
left at that.

But at the doorway he asked if he could call again.

"I feel as if I have dominated the evening with my conversation," he
said.

"I'd like to be more of a listener next time  ; " Was I hearing right?
A man wanted to hear me talk, wanted to know my thoughts?

"You could call tomorrow," I said..  I suppose I sounded as eager as a
schoolgirl.  He didn't smile or laugh.

"Fine," he said.

"There's a good seafood restaurant where I am staying.  Perhaps we
could have dinner."

Dinner?  An actual date.  Of course, I agreed.  I wanted to watch him
get into his car and drive off, but I couldn't do anything so obvious.
When Ireentered the house, my father was standing in the den doorway.

"Interesting young man," he said.

"Something of a business genius, I'd say.  And good-looking, too,
eh?"

"Yes, Father," I said.

He chuckled.

"He's Coming to caB tomorrow and we're going to dinner."

His smile faded.  His face took on that look of serious hopeI had seen
before.

"Really?  Well, what do you know?  What do you know?"

"I don't know what to tell you.  Father."

Garden of Shadows I couldn't contain myself anymore.  I had to excuse
myself and go upstairs.  For a while I simply sat in my room staring at
myself in the mirror.  What had I done differently?  My hair was the
same.

I pulled my shoulders back.  I had a tendency to turn them in because
they were so wide.  I knew it was bad posture and Malcolm had such good
posture, such confident posture.  He didn't seem to see my inadequacies
and imperfections, and it was so good not having to look down at a
man.

And he had told me I was very attractive, implied that I was desirable
to men.  Maybe I had underestimated myself all those years.  Maybe I
had unnecessarily accepted a dreadful fate?

Of course, I tried chastising myself, warning myself.

A man who's been to dinner has asked you out.  It doesn't have to mean
he has romantic inclinations.

Maybe he's just lonely here.

N6, I thought, we'll have dinner, talk some more, and he witt be gone.
Perhaps, some distant day, on some occasion, like Christmas, I'll
receive a card from him, on which he will write, "Belated thanks for
your fine conversation.  Happiest of holidays.  Malcolm."

My heart fluttered in fear.  I went out to the gtassenclosed dollhouse
and looked for the hope I left encased there.  Then I went to sleep
dreaming about the porcelain figures.  I was one of them.  I was the
happy wife--and Malcolm, he was the handsome husband.

Our dinner date was elegant.  I tried not to overdress, but everything
I picked out to wear looked so plain.  It was my own fault for not
caring enough about my wardrobe.  In the end I chose the gown I had
worn to a

Garden of Shadows wedding reception last year.  Perhaps it would bring
me good luck, I thought.

Malcolm said I looked nice, but the conversation at dinner quickly
turned to more mundane things.  He wanted to know all about the work I
did for my father and he made me elaborate in detail.  I was afraid the
conversation would prove boring, but he showed such interest that I
went on and on.  Apparently, he was quite impressed with my knowledge
of my father's affairs.

"Tell me," he asked when we returned to my house, "what do you do to
entertain yourself?"  At last the conversation was to be more personal;
at last there was interest in me.

"I read a great deal.  I listentomusic.  I take walks.

My one sport is horseback riding."

"Oh, really.  I own a number of horses, and Foxworth Hall, my home, is
situated on grounds that would fascinate any explorer of nature."

"It sounds wonderful," I said.

He saw me to the door and, once again, I thought this would be the end.
But he surprised me.

"I suppose you know I will be joining you and your father to attend
church tomorrow."

"No," I said.

"I didn't know."

"Well, I took forward to it," he added.

"I must thank you for a most enjoyable evening."

"I enjoyed it too," I said, and waited.  Was thte the moment when the
man was supposed to kiss the woman?  How I regretted not having a close
girlfriend in whom I could confide and with whom I could discuss the
affairs between men and women, but all the girls I had known in school
were married and gone.

Garden of Shadows Was I supposed to do something to encourage him?

Lean toward him, pause dramatically, smile in some way?  I felt so
lost, standing before the door, waiting.

"Until the morning, then," he said, tipped his hat, and went down the
steps to his car.

I opened the door and rushed into the house, feeling both excited and
disappointed.  My father was in the sitting room, reading the paper,
pretending to be interested in other things; but I knew he was waiting
to hear about my date.  I made up my mind I would not give him a
review.  It made me feel more like someone auditioning and I didn't
like all these expectations.

What could I tell him anyway?  Malcolm took me out to dinner.  We
talked a great deal.  Rather, I talked a great deal and he listened.
Maybe he thought I was a chatterbox after all, even though my
conversation was about things in which he showed some interest.  I'm
sure I talked so much because I was so nervous.  In a way I was
grateful for his questions about business.

That was a subject on which I could expand.

I could have talked about books, of course, or horses, but it wasn't
until just now that I learned he had any interests in anything other
than making money.

So what would I tell my father?  The dinner was wonderful.  I tried not
to eat too much, even though I could have eaten more.  I tried to look
dainty and feminine and even refused to order dessert.  It was he who
insisted.

"DM you have a good time?"  my father asked quickly.  He saw I would
just go right up to my room.

"Yes, but why didn't you tell me you had invited him to join us for
church?"

"Oh, didn't I?"

"Father, despite your expertise in business, you're Garden of' Shadows
not a good liar," I said.  He roared.  I even laughed a bit myself.

Why should I be mad anyway?  I thought.  I knew what he was doing and I
wanted him to do it.

"I'm going to sleep," I said, thinking about how early I would get up
the next morning.  I had to take extra pains with my appearance for
church.

Before I fell asleep that night, I reviewed every moment of my date
with Malcolm, condemning myself for this, congratulating myself for
that.  And when I recalled our moments at the door, I imagined that he
did kiss me.

Never was I as nervous about going to church as I was that morning.  I
couldn't eat a thing at breakfast.  I rushed about, not quite confident
about my dress, not sure about my hair.  When the time finally came to
leave and Malcolm had arrived, my heart was beating so rapidly, I
thought I would go into a faint and collapse on the stairway.

"Good morning, Olivia," he said, and looked quite satisfied with my
appearance.  I didn't even realize until we were all in the car and on
the way to church that he had called me "Olivia" and not "Miss
Winfield."

It was a lovely, warm spring day, really the first warm Sunday of the
year.  All the young ladies were dressed in their new spring dresses
with veiled hats and parasols.

And the families all looked so fresh, with the children scampering
about in the sun, waiting to go in to the service.  As we stepped from
the car, it seemed all those gathered turned to look at me.  Me, Olivia
Winfield, arriving at church on a fine Sunday morning with my father
and a strikingly handsome young man.

Yes, I wasted to scream, yes, it's me!.  See?  But of Garden of
Shadows course I would never stoop to such guttersnipe behavior.  I
stood straighter, taller, and held my chin high as we walked directly
from the car and into the dark, musky church.  Most had stayed outdoors
to enjoy the sun, so we had our choice of pews, and Malcolm led us
directly to the very front seats.  We sat silently as we waited for the
sermon to begin.  Never had I had such difficulty following the sermon;
never did I feel So self-conscious about the sound of my voice when we
stood to sing the hymns.  Yet Malcolm sang out clearly and loudly, and
recited the Lord's Prayer at the end in a deep, strong voice.  Then he
turned to me and took my arm to escort me out.  How proud I felt
walking down the aisle with him.

Of course, I saw the way other members of the congregation were
watching us and wondering who was the handsome young man accompanying
the Winfields and standing beside Olivia Winfield?

We left a stream of chatter behind us and I knew that Malcolm's
appearance would be the subject of parlor talk all day.

That afternoon we went horseback riding.  It was the first time I bad
gone horseback riding alone with a man and I found his company
invigorating.  He rode like an experienced English huntsman.  He seemed
to enjoy the way I < uld keep up with him.

He came to Sunday dinner and we took another walk along the river.  For
the first part of the walk I found him more quiet than ever and I
anticipated the announcement of his departure.  Perhaps he would
promise to write.  Actually, I was hoping for that promise, even if he
didn't hold to it.  At least I would have something to look forward to.
I would cherish every one of his letters, should there be more than
tine.

Garden of Shadows "Look here, Miss Winfield," he suddenly began.  I
didn't like his reverting back to calling me Miss Winfield.  I thought
that was a dark omen.  But it wasn't.

"I don't see the point in two people who have so much in common, two
sensible people, that is, delaying and unnecessarily prolonging a
relationship just to arrive at the point they both agree would be
best."

"Point?"

"I'm speaking of marriage," he said.

"One of the most holy sacraments, something that must never be taken
lightly.  Marriage is more than the logical result of a romance; it's a
contractual union, teamwork.  A man has to know that his wife is part
of the effort, someone on whom he can depend.  Contrary to what some
men think, my father included, a man must have a woman who has
strength.  I'm impressed with you.  Miss Winfield.  I would like your
permission to ask your father for your hand in marriage."

For a moment I could not speak, Malcolm Neal Fbxworth, six feet two
inches tall, as handsome a man as there could be, a man of
intelligence, wealth, and looks, wanted to marry me?  And we were
standing oa the bank of the river with the stars above us more
brilliant than ever.  Had I wandered into one of my own dreams?

"Well... ," I said.  I brought my hand to my throat and looked at him.
I was at a loss for words.  I didn't know how to phrase my response.

"I realize this seems rather sudden, but I'm a man with a destiny who
has the good fortune to realize almost immediately what is valuable and
what is not.

My instincts have always proven reliable, I am confident that this
proposal will be a good one for both of us.

If you can place your trust in that; .."  ;.

Garden of Shadows "Yes, Malcolm.  I can," I said quickly, perhaps too
quickly.

"Good.  Thank you," he said.

waited.  This was surely the moment for us to kiss.

We should consummate our faith in each other under the Stars.  But
maybe I was being childishly romantic.

Malcolm was the kind to do things properly, correctly.  I had to have
faith in that too.

"Then, if you will, let us return to your home so that I can speak to
your father," he said.  He did take my arm and draw me closer to him.
As we walked back to my father's house, I thought about the couple I
had seen strolling on the street that first night he came to dinner. My
dream had come true.  For the first tune in my life, I felt truly
happy.

My father waited in his den as if he had anticipated the news.  Things
were moving so quickly.  On more than one occasion, I had brought
myself to the double doors that separated my father's den from the
sitting room and listened in on conversations.  I resented being left
out of some of the conversations anyway.  They had to do with family
affairs or business affairs that could affect me.

Nothing would affect me more than the conversation that was about to
ensue.  I stood quietly to the side and listened, eager to hear Malcolm
express his love for me.

"As I told you the first night, Mr.  Winfield," he began, "I am quite
taken with your daughter.  It is rare to find a woman with her poise
and dignity, a woman who can appreciate the pursuit of economic success
and grow gracefully with it."

"I am proud of Olivia's achievements," my father said.

"She is as brilliant an accountant arid bookkeeper as any man I know,"
he added.  My father's eompliGarden of Shadows ments always had a way
of making me feel less desirable.

"Yes.  She's a woman with a steady, strong temperament  I have always
wanted a wife who would let me pursue my life as I will, and would not
cling to me helplessly like a choking vine.  I want to be confident
that when I come home, she won't be sulky or moody, or even vindictive
as so many flimsy women can be.  I like the fact that she is not
concerned with superficial things, that she doesn't dote on her own
couture, that she doesn't giggle and flirt.  In short, I like her
maturity.

I compliment you, sir.  You have brought up a fine, responsible
woman."

"Well, I " "And I can think of no other way to express that compliment
better than to ask for your permission to marry her."

"Does Olivia...?"

"Know that I have come in here to make this proposal?  She has given me
permission to do so.

Knowing she is a woman of strong mind, I thought it best to ask her
first.  I hope you understand."

"Oh, I understand that."  My father cleared his throat.

"Well, Mr.  Foxworth," he said.  He felt it necessary to refer to him
as Mr.  Foxworth during this conversation.

"I'm sure you understand as well that my daughter win come into a
sizable fortune.  I want you to know beforehand that her money will be
her own.  It is specifically stated in my will that no one but she will
have access to those funds."

There was what I thought to be a long silence.

"That's as it should be," Malcolm finally said.

"I

don't know what your plans might be for a wedding," he added quickly,
"but I would favor a'small church Garden of Shadows ceremony as
quickly as possible.  I need to return soon to Virginia."

"If Olivia wants that," my father said.  He knew that I would.

"Fine.  Then I have your permission, sir?"

"You understand what I have said about her money?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"You have my permission," my father said.

"And we'll shake on it."

I released the air that I held in my lungs and stepped quickly away
from the double doors.

A man, most handsome and elegant, had come calling and then had asked
for my hand in marriage.  I had heard it all and it had all happened so
quickly, I had to catch my breath and keep telling myself it wasn't a
dream.

I hurried upstairs and sat before the dollhouse.  I would live in a big
house with servants and there would be people coming and going.  We
would entertain with elaborate dinner parties and I would be an asset
to my husband who was, as my father had said, something of a business
genius.  In time we would be envied by all.

"Just like I have envied you," I said to the porcelain familywithin the
glass.

I looked about me.

Good-bye to lonely nights.  Good-bye to this world of fantasy and
dreams.

Good-bye to my father's face of pity and to my own forlorn look in the
mirror.  There was a new face to know and so much to learn about
Malcolm Neal Foxworth and a lifetime to learn it in.  I was to become
Olivia Foxworth, Mrs.  Malcolm Neal Foxworth.  All my mother had
predicted had come true.

Garden of Shadows I was blooming.  I felt myself opening out toward
Malcolm like a tightly closed bud bursting into blossom.  And when his
blue, blue eyes looked into my gray ones, I knew the sun had come and
melted the fog away.  My life would no longer be colored gray.  No,
from now on it would be blue blue as the sun-filled skies of a
cloudless day.  Blue as Malcolm's eyes.  In the flush of being swept
away by love, like any foolish schoolgirl I forgot all I knew about
caution and looking beyond appearances to see the truth.  I forgot that
never once when Malcolm proposed to me and then made his proposal to my
father had he mentioned the word "love."  Like a foolish schoolgirl I
believed I would lie beneath the blue sky of Malcolm's eyes, and my
tiny little blossom would grow into a sturdy, long-lasting bloom.  Like
any woman stupidly believing in love, I never realized that the blue
sky I saw was not the warm, soft, nurturing sky of spring, but the
cold, chilling, lonely sky of winter.

My Wedding there WERE SO MANY PLANS TO BE MADE AND SO LITTLE time to
plan.  We decided to have the wedding two weeks hence.

"I've been away quite a long time," Malcolm explained, "and I have many
pressing business concerns.  You don't mind a bit, do you, Olivia?

After all, we shall have our whole lives from now on to be together,
and we shall have a honeymoon later, after you're all settled in at
Poxworth Hall.  Do you agree?"

How could I not agree?  The size of my wedding, the abruptness of it,
did not lessen my excitement.  I kept telling myself I was lucky to
have this one.  Besides, I was never comfortable being on display in
front of people.  And I really had no friends to celebrate with.

Father invited my mother's younger sister and her child, John Amos, our
only living close relatives.

"Poor relations," my father always called them.  John Amos's father had
died several years before.  His mother was a dark drab thing, seemingly
still in mourning after all these years.  And John Amos, at eighteen,
seemed already old.  He was a hard, pious young man who always quoted
the Bible.  But I agreed with Father that it was only appropriate that
we invite them.  Malcolm brought no one.  His father had recently begun
traveling and intended to visit many countries and travel for a number
of years.  Malcolm had no brothers or sisters and apparently no close
relations he eared to invite or, as he explained, who could come on
such short notice.  I knew what people would think about that--he
didn't want his family to see what he was marrying until it was too
late.  They might talk him out of it.

He did promise to hold a reception at Foxworth Hall soon after we
arrived;

"You'll meet anyone of consequence there," he said.

The next two weeks for me were filled with arrangements and fears.  I
decided I would wear my mother's wedding gown.  After all, why spend so
much money oh a dress you would wear only once?  But, of course, the
gown was much, much too short for me and Miss Fairchild, the
dressmaker, had to be called in to lengthen it.  It was a simple dress
of pearly silk, not full of frippery, lace, and doodads, but stately,
beautiful, elegant, just the sort of dress Malcolm would appreciate, I
thought.  The dressmaker frowned as I stood on a bench; the dress
reached only my mid-calves.

"My dear Miss Olivia," she sighed, looking up at me from where she
knelt on the floor, "I'm going to have to be a genius to hide this hem.
Are you certain you don't want a new dress?"

Oh, I knew what she was thinking.  Who's marrying this tall, gangly
Olivia Winfield,and why does she insist on squeezing herself into her
dainty mother's dress like one of QadereBa's stepsisters trying to get
into the Garden of Shadows glass slipper?  And perhaps I was.  But I
needed to be close to my mother on my wedding day, as dose as I could
get.  And I felt protected in her dress, protected by the generations
of women who had married men and borne them children before me.  For I
knew and understood so little of any of this.  And I wanted to be
beautiful on my wedding day, no matter how much pity and mockery I saw
in the dressmaker's eyes.

"Miss Fairchild, I must wear Mother's wedding dress for scores of
sentimental reasons I'm sure it is not necessary to explain to you.
Now, can you lengthen this dress or shall I have to call in someone
else?"  I put coldness in my voice and superior social standing in my
posture and Miss Fairchild was back in her place.  She did the rest of
her work in silence, as I gazed in the mirror.

Who was that woman gazing back at me a bride in a white dress.  A bride
about to be taken by a man and made his own.  And what would it feel
like, to walk down the aisle.  Oh, I knew my heart would stampede like
wild horses.  I'd try to smile, to make my face as sweet as the bride
atop the wedding cake, as sweet as the faces of the young wives I saw
in the society columns in the newspapers.

How could they look so sweet and innocent?  Surely, they didn't go
through their whole life looking like that.

Was it something they learned or something that came naturally?  If it
was something learned, maybe there was ;

hope for me.  Maybe I could learn it too.  j But still I'd be as shy as
ever, knowing what people I were thinking she's so tall and her arms
are so long.  j That beautiful head of hair is wasted atop that plain |
face.  Even if I smiled back at them and they smiled and , nodded at
me, I knew they would be turning to one | Garden of Shadows another
immediately afterward, quiet laughter around their eyes.  How foolish
she looks.  Those shoulders in such a dainty wedding dress.  Those big
feet.  Look how she towers over everyone but Malcolm.

And Malcolm, so handsome and stately standing beside such an ugly
duckling.  Oh, people would have so much fun making jokes about the
eagle and his pigeon, one bird magnificent, beautiful, and proud; the
other plain, awkward, drab.

As I stood before the mirror and Miss Fairchild busied herself about my
body with needles and pins and basting threads, I was happy that my
wedding would be attended only by Aunt Margaret and John Amos, my
father, Malcolm, and myself.  No one would be there to make my worst
fears come true, and I hoped that now my chance had come, my brightest
rainbow dreams would be mine to claim.

On my wedding day it rained.  I had to run into the church with my
white dress covered by a gray rain cloak  But, disappointing as it was,
I would not let the weather dampen my excitement.  We had a simple
church service in the Congregational Church.  As I started down the
aisle, I hid my fears and nervousness behind a mask of solemnity.
Wearing this face, I was able to look directly at Malcolm as I walked
down the aisle to meet him.  He stood waiting at the altar, his posture
stiff, his face more solemn than mine.  That disappointed me.  I was
hoping when he Saw me in my mother's wedding dress, something of the
magic would occur again and his would light with pleasure, anticipating
our love.  I searched his eyes.  Was he hiding his true feelings behind
the same mask I was?  When he looked

Garden of Shadows at me, he seemed to be looking right through me.

Perhaps he thought it would be sinful to show desire and affection in
church.

Malcolm pronounced his wedding vows so emphatically that I thought he
sounded more like the minister than the minister did.  I couldn't keep
my heart from thumping.  I feared my voice would tremble when I
pronounced the vows, but my voice did not betray me as!  vowed to love,
honor, and obey Malcolm Fbxworth till death us did part.  And as I
pronounced these words, I meant them with all my heart and an my soul.
In the eyes of God I meant them and in the eyes of God I never broke
them my entire life.  For whatever I did for Malcolm, I did to please
God,

When we had completed our vows and exchanged our rings, I turned to
Malcolm expectantly.  This was my moment.  Gently he lifted the veil
from my face.  I held my breath.  There was a deep silence in the
church;

the world seemed to be holding its breath as he leaned toward me, his
lips approaching mine.

But Malcolm's wedding kiss was hard and perfunctory.

I expected so much more.  After all, it was our first kiss.  Something
should have happened that I would remember for the rest of my life.
Instead, I barely felt his taut Hps on mine before they were gone.  It
was more like a stamp of certification.

He shook hands with the minister; he shook hands with my father.  My
father hugged me quickly.  I suppose I should have kissed him, but I
was very selfconscious about the way John Amos was looking at us.

I saw it in his face--he was as disappointed in Malcolm's kiss as I
was.

My father looked pleased, but terribly thoughtful as Garden of Shadows
we all left the church together.  There was something in his look that
I had never seen before, as I caught him gazing up at Malcolm from.
time to time.  It was as though he saw something new, something he had
just realized.  For a moment, only a moment, that frightened me; but
when I looked his way, happiness washed the darkness from his eyes and
he smiled softly the Way he sometimes smiled at my mother when she did
something that pleased him a great deal or when she looked especially
beautiful.

Did I finally look beautiful, even if just for today?

Did my eyes sparkle with new life?  I hoped this was true.  I hoped
Malcolm felt it too.  My father suggested we all adjourn quickly to our
home, where he had planned a small reception.  Of course, how large
could a reception be, with only a bride and groom, a father, a grieving
aunt, and a boy of eighteen.  But reception it was as Father brought
out a bottle of vintage champagne.

"Olivia, my dear and only daughter, and Malcolm my distinguished new
son-in-law.  May you Uve in happiness and harmony forever."  Why did a
tear squeeze from his eye as he raised his glass toward us?

And why did Malcolm look at Father rather than at me as he drank his
champagne?  Suddenly I felt lost, not knowing what to do, so I turned
up my glass andover the rim saw my cousin, John Amos, scowling at
Malcolm Then he walked over to me.

"You look beautiful today.  Cousin Olivia.  I want you to remember, you
are my only family, and whenever you need me, I will be there for you.
For God planned families always to stick together, always to help one
another, always to keep his sacred trust of love."  I didn't know how
to respond.  Why, I barely knew this young man.  And what a thing to
say on my wedding day.  What in heaven's name could John Amos, the poor
relation, ever hope to do for me, who was headed for a life of Southern
gentility filled with wealth and ambition?  What, indeed, did he know,
even then, that it took me too long to discover?

Malcolm had booked passage for us on the train leaving at three that
day.  We were going right to Foxworth Hall.  He said he had no time for
a prolonged honeymoon and saw no practical sense in it anyway.  My
heart sank in disappointment when he told me that, yet at the same time
I felt relieved.  I'd heard enough stories about men and their wedding
nights, about a woman's duty to her husband, that I had no wish to
prolong my ordeal of initiation.  Frankly, I was terrified at the idea
of conjugal relations, and somehow, knowing we'd be traveling through
the night, safe on a cozy train with people all around us, set my mind
at ease.

"For you, coming to Foxworth will be romantic adventure enough, Olivia.
Trust me," he said as if my face had turned to glass and he could read
my thoughts within.

I didn't complain.  The description he had given me of Foxworth Hall
made it sound like a fairy tale castle so grand and fascinating it
would make my (tollhouse dream of beauty seem ant-sized.

At precisely two-fifteen Malcolm announced that it was time for us to
get started.  The car was brought around and my trunks were loaded.

"You know," my father told Malcolm as we left the house, "I'll have to
do my dandiest to find an accountant as good as Olivia."

"Your loss is my gain, sir," Malcolm replied.

"I

Garden of Shadows assure you, her talents will not go unused at
Fbxworth I felt as if they were talking about some slave who had been
exchanged.

"Perhaps my wages will be improved," I said.  I half meant it to be a
Joke, but Malcolm didn't laugh.

"Of course," he said.

My father kissed me on the cheek and looked sad when he said, "You take
good care of Malcolm, now, Olivia, and don't give him any trouble.  Now
Malcolm's word is law."  Somehow that frightened me, especially when
John Amos popped up, grabbed my hand, and said, "The Lord bless you and
keep you."  I didn't know how to respond, so I just thanked him, pulled
my hand away, and got in the car.

As we drove away, I looked back at the Victorian house that had been
more than a home to me.  It had been the home of my dreams and my
fantasies; it had been the place from which I had looked out at the
world and wondered what would be in store for me.  I had felt safe
there, secure in my ways and in my room.  I was leaving my
glass-encased dollhouse, with its tinted windows and rainbow magic, but
I would no longer need it to dream on.  No, now I would live in the
real world, a world I could never have imagined existed in that
precious dollhouse world that had formed my hopes and dreams.

I took Malcolm's arm and moved closer to him.  He looked at me and
smiled.  Surely, I thought, now that we were alone, he would be more
demonstrative of his love and affection.

"Tell me again about Foxworth Hall," I said, as if I were asking him to
tell me a bedtime story about Garden of Shadows another magical world.
At the mention of his home, he straightened up.

"It's over one hundred and fifty years old," he said.

"There's history in it everywhere.  Sometimes I feel as if 1 am in a
museum; sometimes I feel as if I am in a church.  It's the wealthiest
home in our area of Virginia.

But I want it to be the wealthiest in the country, maybe even the
world.  I want it to be known as the Foxworth castle," he added, his
eyes becoming coldly determined.

He went on and on, describing the rooms and the grounds, his family's
business and, his expectations for them.  As he talked on, I felt as if
I were descending deeper and deeper into his ambitions.  It frightened
me.

I hadn't realized how monomaniacal he could be.  His whole body and
soul fixed itself on his goals and I sensed that nothing, not even our
marriage, was more important to him.

Somewhere in one of my books I read that a woman likes to feel that
there is nothing more important to her man than she, that all he does,
he does with her in mind.

"That is truly love; that is truly oneness" was the quote I couldn't
forget.  Married people should feel they are part of each other and
should always be aware of each other's needs and feelings.  :

As the car turned off our street and I glanced at the Thames River
crowded with ships moving up and down in their slow, careful, but
determined way, I wondered if I would ever have that feeling with
Malcolm.

I realized it wasn't something a woman should wonder on her wedding
day.  I

We dined on the train.  I had been too nervous to eatj a thing all day,
and suddenly I felt famished, j Garden of Shadows "I'm so hungry," I
told him.

"You've got to order carefully on these trains," he told me.

"The prices arc ridiculous."

"Surely we can make an exception in pur economy tonight," I said.

"People of our means .. ."

"Precisely why we must always be economical.  Good business sense takes
training, practice.  That was what attracted me to your father.  He
never lets his money get in the way of good business sense.  Only the
so-called nouveau riche are wasteful.  You can spot them anywhere. They
are obscene."

I saw how intense he was about this belief, so I didn't pursue it any
further.  I let him order for both of us, even though I was
disappointed in his choices and left the table still hungry.

Malcolm got into discussions with other men on the train.  There was a
heated debate about the so-called "Red Menace" engendered by the United
States Attor they General, A. Malcolm Palmer.  Five members of the New
York State legislature had been expelled for being members of the
Socialist Party.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say how horrible an injustice that
was, but Malcolm vehemently expressed his approval, so I kept my
thoughts to myself, some thing I would have to do more and more and I
didn't like it.  I pressed my lips together, fearful that the words
would fly out like birds from a cage when the door was carelessly left
open.  ;

After a while I ignored the discussions and fell asleep against the
window.  I had wound down from physical and emotional exhaustion.
Darkness had enveloped us and aside from some lights in the distance
here and there, there wasn't much to-keep me interested in the scenery.
I awoke to find Malcolm asleep beside me.

Garden of Shadows In repose, his face took on a younger, almost
childish look.  With his lids closed, the intensity of his blue eyes
was shielded.  His cheeks softened and his relaxed jaw lost its firm,
tense lines.  I thought..  . rather, I hoped, that this was the face he
would turn to me in love, the face he would bring to me when he knew I
was truly his wife, his mate, his beloved.  I stared at him, fascinated
with the way his bottom lip puffed out.  There were so many little
things to learn about each other, I thought.

Do two people ever learn all there is about each other?

It was something I would have liked to ask my mother.

I turned away and looked at the other passengers.

The whole car was asleep.  Fatigue had come silently down the aisle and
touched each of them with fingers made of smoke and then slipped out
under the car door to become one again with the night.  The way the
train wove around turns and shook from side to side made me feel as if
I were inside some giant metallic snake.  I felt carried along, almost
against my will.

Occasionally, the train passed through a sleepy town or village.  The
lights in the houses were dim and the streets were empty.  Then, in the
distance, I saw the Blue Ridge Mountains looming like sleeping
giants.

I was lulled into sleep again and awoke at the sound of Malcolm's
voice.

"We're coming into the station," he said.

"Really?"  I looked out the window but saw only trees and empty fields.
Nevertheless, the train slowed down and came to a halt.  Malcolm
escorted me down the aisle to the doorway and we descended the steps. I
stepped out onto the platform and looked at the small station that was
merely a tin roof supported by four wooden posts.

Garden of Shadows The air was cool and fresh-smelling.  The sky was
clear and splattered with dazzling stars.

So vast and deep was the sky, it made me feel very small and
insignificant.  It was too big, and felt too close.  Its beauty filled
me with a strange sense of foreboding.  I wished we had arrived in the
morning and been greeted by the warm sunlight instead.

I didn't like the deadly quiet and emptiness around us.  Somehow, from
Malcolm's description of Foxworth Hall and its environs, I had expected
lights and activity.

There was no one to greet us but Malcolm's driver, Lucas.  He looked
like a man in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair and a narrow
face.  He had a slim build and stood at least two full inches shorter
than I did.  I saw from the way he moved that he had probably fallen
asleep waiting for us at the station.

Malcolm introduced me formally.  Lucas nodded, put on his cap, and
hurried to fetch my trunks as Malcolm led me to the car.  I watched
Lucas load my trunks and then saw the train pull away slowly, sneaking
off into the night like some silvery dark creature trying to make an
unobtrusive escape.

"It's so desolate here," I said when Malcolm got in beside me.

"How faraway are we from population?"

"We are not far from homes.  Charlottesville is an hour away and
there's a small village nearby."

"I'm so tired," I said, wanting to lean my head against his shoulder.
But he sat so stiffly, I hesitated.

"It's not far now."

"Welcome to Foxworth Hall, ma'am," Lucas said when he finally got
behind the wheel.  ;

"Thank you, Lucas."

"Yes, ma'am."

Garden of Shadows

"Drive on," Malcolm commanded.

The road wound upward.  As we drew closer to the hills, I noted how the
trees paraded up and down between them, separating them into distinct
sections.

"They act as windbreaks," Malcolm explained, "holding back the heavy
drifts of snow."

A short while later I saw the cluster of large homes nestled on a steep
hillside.  And then, suddenly, Foxworth Hall appeared, jetting up
against the night sky, filling it.  I couldn't believe the size of the
house.  It sat high on the hillside, looking down at the other homes
like a proud king surveying his minions.  And this was to be my
home--the castle of which I would be queen.  Now I understood better
Malcolm's driving ambition.  No one brought up in such a regal and
expensive home could think small or ever be satisfied with
run-of-the-mill accomplishments.  Yet, how lonely, how threatening, how
accusing such a house could seem to someone timid or' small  I shivered
at the thought.;

"You live here only with your father?"  I asked as we drew closer.

"It must have been lonely for you since he began his traveling."

Malcolm said nothing, just looked ahead, as if trying to see his
mansion through my astonished eyes.

"How many rooms are in this house?"

"Somewhere between thirty and forty.  Maybe one day, to pass the time,
you'll make a count."  He laughed at his own joke, but I couldn't put
aside my awe.

"And servants?"

"My father had too many.  Since he's been traveling, I have cut back
somewhat.  We have a cook, of course, and a gardener who complains
constantly that he needs Garden of Shadows an assistant, a maid, and
Lucas, who serves as butler and driver."

"Can that possibly be enough?"

"As I said, now there is you too, my dear."

"But I'm not coming here to be a servant, Malcolm," I said.  He didn't
reply for a few moments.  Lucas pulled up in front of the house.

"Obviously, we don't use all the rooms, Olivia.  At one time there were
dozens of relatives ensconced within.  Fortunately, the parasites have
been removed."

His face softened.

"After you are settled in, you will evaluate our Staff needs and do
what is efficient and economical, I'm sure.  The house is to be your
responsibility.  I don't have the time for it anymore, and I needed a
woman like you who could manage it properly he said.  He made it sound
as though he had gone shopping for a wife.

I said no more.  I was terribly eager now to go in and see what such a
mansion looked like, a mansion that was to be my home.  It both
thrilled and frightened me.

I was sorry that we had come to it at night, for at night it had an
ominous air about it.  It was almost as if this house had a life of its
own, as if it could make judgments about its inhabitants while they
slept and cause those it did not like to suffer.

Also, I had learned something from my father about the places people
lived.  Their homes always reflected their personalities.  He himself
was evidence of that.

Our home was quite simple, but genteel.  There was warmth to it as
well.

What would this house tell me about the man I had married?  Did he
dominate people as much as this house dominated its surroundings? Would
I become tost within the vast structure, grow lonely as I wandered from
room to room through the long hallways?

Lucas rushed up to open the large double entrance doors and then
Malcolm led me into my new home.  As he guided me through the grand
entrance, with his hand resting on my back, my heart sank.  I knew it
was foolish but I had hoped he would carry me over the threshold into
my new home, my new life.  I wanted for just this one day to be one of
those charming, delicate women men cherish and look after.  But that
was not to be.

A small figure emerged from the gloom, and my fantasy popped.

"Welcome to Fbxworth Hall, Mrs.

Fbxworth," a voice greeted me, and for a moment I couldn't respond.  It
was the first time anyone had called me Mrs.  Foxworth.  Malcolm
quickly introduced Mrs.  Steiner, the maid.  She was a small woman,
barely five feet four, and, as I towered above her, I flushed at my
thoughts of being carried over the threshold.  This woman, fiftyish
though she was, would be a better candidate for such shenanigans.  But
she seemed kind as she smiled up at me.  I looked to Malcolm but he was
busily directing Lucas to carry in my trunks.

"I have your bed turned down and a small fire going, ma'am," she
announced.

"It's a bit chilly tonight."

"Yes."  For a moment I was startled by the mention of bed.  Why, it was
almost morning!  Was my wedding night to proceed now?  Somehow I didn't
feel ready yet, but I quickly hid my confusion.

"I suppose Virginia s mountain weather is something I'll have to get
used to."  .  , - - I "It takes some getting used to," she said.

"The days i can be warm in late spring andsumtner, but the nights | are
cool.  Come along now," she beckoned to me.  | Garden of Shadows I
hadn't moved from the entryway, but now the time had come to move
forward and meet Fbxworth Hall.

All the lights were dimmed, the candles burned low.

I walked slowly, like a somnambulist lost in a dream, through the long
entryway with its high ceiling.  The walls were peppered with oil
portraits of people I assumed were ancestors who had preceded me in
Fbxworth Hall.  As I walked down the hall I gazed at them, one by one.
The men looked austere, cold, haughty; So did the women.  Their faces
were pinched tight, their eyes saddened by some trouble.  I looked in
each of the portraits for some hint of Malcolm, some resemblance in the
faces.  Some of the men had his light hair and straight nose, and some
of the women, especially the older ones, had his intense expression.

At the end of the front foyer, large enough to be used as a ballroom, I
came to a pair of elegant staircases that wound up like ruffles on a
queen's sleeves.  The curving staircases met at a balcony on the second
floor, and from there became a single staircase that rose another
flight.  The three giant crystal chandeliers hung from a gilt carved
ceiling some forty feet above the floor and the floor was made of
intricate mosaic tiles.  The magnificence took my breath away.  How
drab and gawky I felt in this elegant room.

As Mrs.  Steiner led me forward, I gazed at the marble busts, the
crystal lamps, the antique tapestries that only the extremely wealthy
could afford.  Lucas hurried past us, lugging one of my trunks.  I
paused at the foot of the stairs, my mind numbed in a trance, I was to
be the mistress of this magnificent mansion!

Then Malcolm was beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, do you approve?"  he asked.

Garden of Shadows

"It's like a palace."  I said.

"Yes," Malcolm said.

"The seat of my empire.  I expect you will manage it well," he added.
He pulled off his gloves and looked about.

"That's the library there," he said, gesturing to my right.  I looked
through the open doorway and caught a glimpse of walls lined with
richly carved mahogany bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes.

"I have something of an office in the rear, where you can work on our
accounts.  The main hallways above," he said, turning my attention back
to the staircases, "join at the rotunda.  Our bedrooms are in the
southern wing, with its warmer exposure.  There are fourteen rooms of
various sizes in the northern wing--plenty of room for guests."

"Yes.  I believe that."

"But I tend to agree with Benjamin Franklin, who said fish and guests
tend to smell after three days.

Please keep that in mind."

I started to laugh, but I saw that he was serious.

"Come, you're tired.  You can explore and explore tomorrow.  I suspect
you might find one of my older relatives still living in one of the
rooms in the north wing."

"You don't mean that?"

"Of course not, but there was a time when that might have been
possible.  My father was often carefree about such things.  Mrs.
Steiner," he said, indicating she '* should continue leading me
upstairs.  ;

"This way, Mrs.  Paxworth," she said, and I began to ascend the
staircase on the right, running my hand over the rosewood balustrade as
I walked up.  Lucas came down the left staircase quickly to retrieve my
remaining!

baggage.  Malcolm walked beside me, just a step or two?

behind.  '

I 44 ;

Garden of Shadows We reached the top of the stairs, and when we made
the turn to the south wing, I confronted a suit of armor on a pedestal
and I really felt I had entered a castle.

The southern wing was softly lit.  Shadows draped the hallway like
giant cobwebs.  The first door on the right was closed.  From the size
of the door, however, I imagined the room was a large one.  Malcolm
must have caught my interest.

"The trophy room," he muttered, "my room," he added with a definite
emphasis on "my,"

"in which I keep artifacts I have collected during my travels and
hunts."

I was immediately curious about that room.  Surely the things within it
would tell me more about the man I had married.

We passed door after door until we reached a set of double doors on the
right.  The only doors we had passed which were painted white.  I
paused.

"No one goes into this room, "Malcolm declared.

"It was my mother's room."  His voice was so cold and hard when he said
that, and his eyes so far away, that I wondered what it was about his
mother that bothered him so.  He spat out the word "mother" almost as
if it were poison.  What kind of man could hate his mother so?  .. .. :
.. : .

Of course, I wanted to know more, but Malcolm took my arm to lead me.
on quickly.  Mrs.  Steiner slopped before an opened doorway and stood
to the side to allow me to enter.

The bedroom was large.  An ornately carved cherry bed stood in its
center.  Its hand-carved posts were topped with a white canopy, and the
bed was covered with aspread of quilted satin.  There were two large
white pillows with hand' crocheted pillowcases;

Garden of Shadows The bed itself was set between two large paneled
windows that faced the south.  The windows were draped in light blue
pleated antique silk curtains.  The room had a polished hardwood floor,
but there was a thick light-gray wool rug beside the bed.

I looked at the dressing table on the left with its oval-framed mirror.
There was a large dresser beside it, a tremendous closet beside that,
and a blue cut-velvet chair facing the bed.  There was another closet
on the right and another, smaller dresser to the right of it.  The
fireplace, now aglow with a dancing fire, was opposite the bed.

Although the curtains, the bedding, and the rug suggested warmth and
femininity, the room had a cold appearance.  As I stood there, I had
the distinct impression the room had been thrown together rather
quickly.

In such a glorious house, why would Malcolm want such a bedroom?

My question was answered immediately.  This was not our bedroom.

This was my bedroom.

"You'll want to get right to sleep," he said.

"It's been a hard day, with all our traveling.  Sleep as late as you
wish."

Malcolm leaned over and kissed me quickly on the cheek and then turned
and left before I could say anything.

It occurred to me that Malcolm might just be very shy and made these
remarks for Mrs.  Steiner's benefit.

He probably intended to come to my bed before or in the morning.

Mrs.  Steiner remained with me a while longer, showing me the bathroom
acuities, explaining the order of the house, how she handled the
linens, when Garden of Shadows she cleaned the rooms, how the orders
for meals were made.

"Of course, it's so late I can't give proper thought to all these
things," I said, "but in the morning I'll go over it all again with you
and decide what we'll continue and what we'll change."  I think she was
surprised by my firmness.

"Every Thursday the servants go to town.  We do our own shopping then
as well," she said, frightened that I would end that practice.

"Where do the servants sleep?"  I asked.

"Servants' quarters are above the garage in the rear.

Tomorrow you'll meet Olsen, the gardener.  He'll want to show you the
gardens in the rear.  He's rather proud of them.  Our cook is Mrs.
Wilson.  She's been with the Foxworths for nearly thirty years.  She
claims to be sixty-two, but I know she's closer to severity," she
added.  She chatted on and on in her somewhat thick German accent while
she unpacked my trunks and began to organize my wardrobe.  Finally her
words melded into one long, monotonous rhythm, so I could no longer
follow.  She saw she was losing my attention and excused herself.

"I hope you enjoy your first night's sleep at Foxworth," she said.  Of
course, it was practically morning.

I took out the blue dressing gown I had taken such pains to have made
for my wedding night.  It had a deep cut V-shaped neckline and it was
truly the most revealing garment I had ever owned.  I remembered when
they had first come out with the V neck, it had been denounced from the
pulpit as indecent exposure.  Doctors said it was a danger to health
and a blouse with a triangular opening in the front was dubbed a
pneumo Garden of Shadows nia blouse."  Women continued to wear it,
though, and it had come to be popular.  Up until now, I avoided
anything that revealed so much of the bosom.  Now I wondered if I
should wear it.

Anticipating the possibility that Malcolm would come to me in the
morning, I decided to do so.  After I slipped into it, I let my hair
down around my shoulders and contemplated myself before the dressing
mirror.

The glow of the fire put a tint on my skin and made it look as though
the flame were burning within me.

Looking at myself like that made me think of an unlit candle, for that
was what an unloved woman was, I thought.  No matter how beautiful she
was, if she did not have a man to love her, she would never bum
brightly.  My chance to light my candle had come.  I longed to see the
flame, The desire lit my eyes.  I ran the tips of my fingers.

down the strands of my hair and touched my shoulders.

Standing there and thinking about Malcolm coming to1 my room finally to
take me in his arms, I recalled love scenes I had read in books.  :

He would press his lips to my shoulders; he would hold my hand between
his and gently stroke it.  He would whisper his love for me and press
me closely to him.  My size that had always been my burden would arouse
him.  In his arms I would be a perfect fit, as graceful and soft as any
woman could be, for that was the power of love to turn the ugliest of
ducklings into a swan.

I felt like a swan in this dressing gown.  I had finally become a woman
to be desired.  The moment Malcolm came through that door, he would see
it, and if there were any doubts in his mind about me, those doubts
would be blown away like faH leaves in the wind.  I Garden of Shadows
longed for him to come through that door.  I was ready for him to come
through that door.

I put out the lights and slipped under the blanket.

Fiery shadows danced on the ceiling; they looked like shapes that had
emerged from the walls.  The spirits of Malcolm's ancestors, asleep for
years, had been nudged and awakened by my arrival.  They performed a
ritual of resurrection, excited with the prospect of a new mistress to
haunt with the, past.  Rather than frighten me, the thought fascinated
me, and I couldn't take my eyes off the dancing forms brought alive by
the red glow of the fire.

From somewhere down the long, empty hallway, I heard a door close.  Its
echo reverberated, bouncing between the walls and threading its way
through the darkness until it reached my doorway.

Then there was a deep, cold silence that pierced my heart, a heart so
eager to be warmed and loved and cherished.  I brought the blanket
closer to my chin and inhaled the scent of newly washed sheets.

I listened hard for Malcolm's footsteps, but I never heard them.  The
fire weakened; the shapes grew smaller and retreated again into the
Walls.  My eyelids grew heavier and heavier until I was unable to keep
them open.  Finally, I welcomed sleep.  I told myself that when I
awoke, Malcolm would be beside me and the bright new life I had
anticipated would begin.

The Ugly Duckling and the Swan something BRIGHT TOUCHED MY EYES AND I
AWOKE.  in my half dream I thought it was the light of love shining
from Malcolm's eyes, but when I opened my eyes I realized it was merely
the bright sun.  Beside me the bed was cold and empty.  Malcolm had not
come to me during the night.  Tears sprung unbidden to my eyes.

I was a married woman; when would I lie beneath the light of love.  All
my dreams so newly flowered wilted as if from a winter wind.  Who was
my husband?

Who was I now?  I drifted toward the window and parted the satin
curtains.  Sunlight spilled into the room.

Just then I heard the gentle rapping of knuckles on my door.

"Who's there?"  I called, trying to sound bright and cheerful.  But it
was no use.  My voice trembled and shook.

"Good morning, Mrs.  Fbxworth.  You slept well, I hope."  } It was Mrs.
Steiner.  And before I could say anything;

50 | Garden of Shadows she had swung open the door and stood surveying
me.

A disapproving smite flitted over her lips.

"Has Mr.  Fbxworth risen?"  I asked quickly.

"Oh, yes, ma'am.  Some time ago.  He's already left the house."

For a moment I simply stared at her.  Left the house?

I had to bite back the tears.  Didn't he intend to spend my first day
here with me?  Had he stopped by my room, seen me asleep, and then gone
on?  Why didn't he finally wake me?  Why didn't he come to me?

I felt like some invited guest, not like a newly married wife.  Did the
servants sense it too?  Was that why Mrs.  Steiner had that cold,
disapproving look on her face?

"Did Mr.  Fbxworth leave any messages for me?"  I asked, but I resented
that I had to ask a servant for my husband's communication.  The least
he could have done was written some husbandly note and thoughtfully
left it beside me on the bed.  That would have given me some warmth.
There was only chin in this room.

The fire had died down along with my hopes and dreams.  My heart felt
like a cold ember.  Last night it flamed with hope.  Today it was
coated with ashes.  To my servants, I would show only strength and
competence.

With a curt bow, Mrs.  Steiner replied, "No, ma'am, he did not leave
any messages.  Would you want your breakfast brought up this
morning?"

"No.  I'll be dressed and down shortly."

"Very good."  Mrs.  Steiner went to Start the fire.

"It's all right.  I don't need it.  I don't pamper myself in the
morning."

"As you wish.  Did you want anything special for breakfast, Mrs.
Fbxworth?"

Garden of Shadows "What did my husband have?"

"Mr.  Foxworth always eats very lightly in the morning."

"As do I," I said.

Mrs.  Steiner nodded and made a hasty retreat.

It wasn't true, of course.  Some mornings, I woke up ravenous and
devoured everything in sight.  But I wasn't hungry this morning.  Oh,
no, I was devastated and determined to find a way to make things
better, right away.

Something was terribly wrong.  My father had always taught me that when
something was terribly wrong, there was always a reason.  And the
reason was always hidden.  If one wanted to know the truth, one had to
search for it.

"But Olivia," he had cautioned me, "when you search the shadows to find
that truth, often you find things more horrible, more painful than you
would have imagined."  But I was a strong woman.  I was brought up to
be a strong woman.  Malcolm Foxworth was my husband and I would find
out why he was neglecting me on our wedding night.  I couldn't let my
disappointment get the better of my intelligence.  I had waited so long
for the morning kisses I dreamt would be mine.  For the cuddling, the
whispered words of love and affection.  I, too, deserved these, and I
wasn't going to give up this easily.

When I rose and saw myself in the revealing dressing gown that was to
bring such pleasure to Malcolm, I felt terribly embarrassed, even
though no one else was there.  It was as though I had gotten into
costume for a play that was never performed, that had never beett
intended to be performed.  I felt foolish, foolish and angry.  I took
it off and got dressed quickly..  | I'll never forget the first morning
I came down those'

52 S

Garden of Shadows stairs.  I stood at the top and gazed out over the
huge foyer and felt the vast emptiness within.  It was going to be a
challenge to make this into a home, a challenge I knew I could meet.

Yet, as I descended the stairway, I did feel like some queen.  Mrs.
Steiner had brought out Mrs.  Wilson, the cook, and Olsen, the
gardener, as well as Lucas to greet me.  My servants waited below,
anxious and intrigued with their new mistress.  Surely, I made an
impressive sight that morning.  I imagined both Lucas and Mrs.

Steiner had described me to the two others.  However, none of them had
expected Malcolm would bring home a bride so tall.  With my hair still
pinned up, my shoulders wide and straight, they must have thought some
queen of the Amazon was descending from above.  I saw both fear and
interest in their eyes.

"Good morning," I began.

"Don't expect that I will be rising at this late hour ever again.  As
Mrs.  Steiner can tell you, we arrived in the middle of the night.

Please make the introductions, Mrs.  Steiner," I corn' manded.  Malcolm
should have been here to do this, I thought.  I was sure they could see
how disappointed I was about it.

"This is Mrs.  Wilson, the cook."

"Welcome, Mrs.  Boxworth," she said.  Unlike Mrs.

Steiner, Mrs.  Wilson was a big-boned woman, at least five feet ten
inches tall.  Her hair was yellowish-gray and she had large,
inquisitive hazel eyes.  I thought there was a smile of understanding
around her eyes and imagined she thought I was what she expected.  From
what Mrs.  Steiner had told me, Mrs.  Wilson had known Malcolm all his
life and could anticipate what kind of a woman he would bring home for
a wife.

"This is Otsen, the gardener," Mrs.  Steiner said.

Garden of Shadows Olsen stepped forward, holding his hat in his hands.
He was a bulky, thick-necked man, built like a bull.  He had thick,
heavy fingers and short but powerful arms.  I thought I detected
something simple, something child like in his face.  Although his
features were large, there was a softness in his eyes.  He looked like
a terrified grade school boy about to be reprimanded by his teacher.

"G-g-g-g-good morning, Mrs.  Fbxworth," he said.

There was a stutter in his speech, and he quickly looked down.

"Good morning."  I turned back to Mrs.  Steiner.

"I

will have some breakfast now.  Then I will begin my survey of the house
and the grounds.  Return to your work, and I shall call you when I need
you."

Sitting at the end of that long oak table large enough to accommodate
twenty guests, I felt like a little girl in a high chair.  This house
overwhelmed even me.  K I spoke too loudly, my voice reverberated,
emphasizing the emptiness.  If only Malcolm were beside me I would feel
like a normal-size wife, neither a giant nor a child.

Mrs.  Steiner excused herself immediately after serving the tray and
went up to do the bedrooms.  I didn't mind eating alone; I had done so
so often, but this was the day after my wedding and, according to
Malcolm, my honeymoon!

I looked about the large dining room.  Although it was well lit, there
was still something gloomy about it.

Perhaps the wallpaper needed to be changed.  Those curtains looked
drab, even dusty.  I knew that with my spit and polish, and my inner
strength and determination, I could turn this barren house into a
home.

Before I left the table, Mrs.  Wilson came out of the kitchen to ask me
if I had any special orders for dinner.

Garden of Shadows For a moment I was speechless.  I really didn't know
what Malcolm liked and didn't like.

"What do you usually serve on Wednesdays?"  I asked.

"We have lamb on Wednesdays, but Mr.  Eoxworth said I should plan the
menu with you from now on."

"Yes, but for the time being, please stay with the menu as it is. We'll
make the appropriate changes as we go along," I said.

She nodded, that half smile around her eyes again.

Could it be that she antidpatedeverything I would say?

I wondered.  I let myself relax; "Mrs.  Wilson, I will come in later
and you can tell me what you've been serving, what are Mr.  R)xworth's
favorite meals, what he likes when," I added.  Whom was I fooling?  She
knew more about my husband than I did.

"Whatever you wish, Mrs.  Foxworth," she said.  Mrs.

Steiner went back into the kitchen and I began my exploration of
Poxworth Hall, truly feeling like some one about to visit a museum, the
only difference being that everything about this house would tell me
some thing more about the man I had just married.  It would have been
so much nicer to have Malcolm at my side, I thought, showing me the
things he cherished, describing the history behind certain pieces of
furniture or paintings.

I decided to begin with the library.  It was an immense room, long,
dark, and musty.  Perhaps because three of the four walls were lined
with books, it was as quiet as a graveyard within.

The ceiling was at least twenty feet high and the shelves of books
almost met it.  A slim portable stair way of wrought iron slid around a
track curved to the second level of shelves, and there was a balcony
above from which one could reach the books on the top level.

Never had I seen so many books.  Being an avid reader, it pleased me
immensely.  Of course, I had to consider that my responsibilities were
now such that I would have less time for leisurely reading.  A quick
perusal of the shelves showed me volumes of history, biography, and
classics.  It was clear that Malcolm didn't stay conversant with the
currently popular authors.

To the right of the entrance door was an enormous desk.  I had never
seen one that large.  A tall leather swivel chair stood behind it. What
surprised me most were the number of phones on the desk six.  Why would
anyone need so many?  How many conversations could he carry on at once?
I imagined that he had to keep in contact with his various
enterprises, like his cloth factories and such, and talk to lawyers and
brokers, but six phone st To the left of the desk was a row of tall
narrow windows that looked out on a private garden a beautiful,
colorful, peaceful view.  I saw Olsen weeding.  He must have sensed me
in the window looking out at him, for he turned my way, nodded, and
went back on working, only faster.

When I turned back to the library, I noted a dark mahogany filing
system made to look like fine furniture.

Two long tan leather sofas were set out from thewaus about three feet,
providing plenty of room to move behind them.  Chairs stood near the
fireplace, and objets dart were scattered on shelves.

Despite the size of the windows, there was little sunlight.  Perhaps,
however, some flowerpots could be placed near the windows, I mused.
Surely they would warm up the room.

Then.  I saw the doorway at the end of the long Garden of Shadows
library.  Was this where Malcolm wanted me to work, or did he intend
for me to work in whatever room that door opened to?  Naturally
curious, I went to the door and opened it to confront a small room with
a much smaller desk and chair in the center.  There were files piled on
one corner of the desk, pens and inkwells and tablets in the center.
The walls were bare and the once oyster wallpaper had faded into a dull
gray.

Had he set up this cold, distant place for me to work in?  I wondered.
I, shivered and embraced myself.  The room was like an afterthought,
for some sort of storage, perhaps.  It was a room in which to place a
clerk or some secretarial servant, but a wife working on family
affairs?

Of course I had to consider that Malcolm made his decision to marry
rather rapidly.  It had all happened so quickly, he probably didn't
have time to warm up the room.  That would be left to me.  I would
change the drab, dusty-looking drapes, fill the place with as many
plants and flowers as I could, get some colorful paintings to put on
the walls, have some shelving put up, and get a bright rug.  There was
so much to do.  I was actually excited by the prospect.

And then, of course, I could envision myself working in here while
Malcolm worked on his big deals in the library.  We wouldn't be far
away from each other.

Perhaps that was why he wanted me in this back room.

The thought cheered me.

I closed the door and retreated through the library to consider the
next part of the house I should visit.  My curiosity had been aroused
the night before, when I had paused by the large white doors and
Malcolm had said the room had once belonged to his mother.  Eager to
learn all that I could about him and his past as quickly as possible, I
headed back upstairs to the south wing and the "secret room."  When
Malcolm said it was off limits to everyone, he surely couldn't have
meant me.

I paused before the double doors set above two steps.  Just as I
started forward, I heard Mrs.  Steiner close a door down the hall.  She
looked at me, and although we were some distance apart, I noticed a
worried frown distort her brow.

I didn't like the way she made me feel, standing there and staring.  It
was as if I had been caught about to put my hand in the cookie jar. How
dare a servant make me feel this way.

"Are you finished with your work?"  I asked sharply.

"Not quite, Mrs.  Fbxworth."

"Then go on with it, by all means," I commanded.  I stood Staring at
her until she turned and continued on to Malcolm's room.  She did pause
to look back at me, but when she saw I was still watching her, she
hurried into the room.

I reached up and turned the knob on the door and stepped into what had
been Malcolm's mother's room.

The moment I did so, I gasped in awe.  It wasn't like anything I would
expect a room belonging to Malcolm's mother would be.  Malcolm's mother
slept here?

At the center of the room on a dais was .. . the best way to describe
it is a swan bed.  It had a sleek ivory head, turned in profile, and
appeared ready to plungd its head under the ruffled underside of a
lifted wing.| The swan had one sleepy red ruby eye.  Its wings
curved!

gently to cup the head on an almost oval bed that| obviously required
custom-made sheets.  The bed'| architect had designed the wingtip
feathers to act -aSl fingers to hold back the delicate transparent
draperie that were in all shades of pink and rose and violet and
purple.  At the foot of the big swan bed was an infant swan bed placed
crossways.

There was a thick mauve carpet and a large rug of white fur near the
bed.  There were four-feet-high lamps of cut-crystal decorated with
gold and silver.

Two of them had black shades.  In between the other two stretched a
chaise longue upholstered in rose colored velvet.

I have to admit here and now I was shocked.  The walls were covered
with opulent silk damask, colored a loud strawberry-pink, richer than
the pale mauve of what had to be at least a four-inch carpet.  I
stepped up to the bed and fingered the soft furry coverlet.

What kind of a woman had Malcolm's mother been7 Had she been a movie
Star?  What would I feel like sleeping in such a bed?  I wondered.  I
couldn't stop myself from lying on it, from feeling the soft, enticing
sensuality of that bed.  Was this what Malcolm wanted?

Was this the bed he was conceived in?  Perhaps I had misunderstood my
handsome husband; perhaps what lurked in the shadows I was searching in
him was a satin sheen, a sensuality I could never have dreamt or
imagined.

"Who gave you permission to come in here!"

I sat up with a start.  Malcolm was looming in the doorway.  For a
moment I thought that he was going to come toward me lovingly, but then
I noticed a strange look burning in his eyes, distorting his handsome
features.  An icy cold chill ran down my spine.  I held my breath and
sat up quickly.  I gasped as I brought my hand to my throat.

"Malcolm.  I didn't hear you come in."

Garden of Shadows

"What are you doing in here?"

"I'm .. . I'm doing what you told me to do.  I'm learning about our
house."

"This is not our house.  This has nothing to do with our house."  His
voice was so cold, it seemed to be coming from the North Pole.  - ...
"I was only trying to please you, Malcolm.  I only wanted to learn
about you and I thought if I could know your mother, I could know you."
It was all so confusing, so unreal; it made me dizzy and anxious.  I
felt as though I had walked into someone's dream of the past rather
than the past as it was.

"My mother?  If you think knowing my mother has anything to do with me,
you are sadly deluded, Olivia.

You want me to tell you about my mother.  I'll tell you about my
mother!"

I sank back onto the silk sheets.  I felt so weak and confused as he
loomed above me.

"My mother," he said bitterly, "she was so beautiful.

So pretty and lively and loving.  She was the world to me.  I was so
innocent then, so trusting, so unknowing.

For then I did not know that ever since Eve, women have betrayed men.
Especially women with beautiful faces and seductive bodies.  Oh, she
was deceptive, Olivia.  For beneath her charming smiles and her
cheerful love beat the heart of a harlot."  He strode over to the
closet and roughly pulled open the door.

"Look at these dresses," he said as he pulled out a pale filmy frock
and threw it on the floor.

"Yes, my mother Was a fashionable woman of the Gay Nineties."  He
pulled out brightly colored tece evening gowns and fine pett coats, a
large fan of curved ostrich feathers, and hurk them all on the floor.
^"Yes, Olivia, she was the beBe < every ball.  This is where she
refined her charms."  He Garden of Shadows walked over to the golden
dressing room in a recessed alcove.  There were minors all around the
vanity.  As if in a trance, he picked up the silver-plated hairbrush
and comb on the dressing table.

"This room cost a fortune.

My father gave in to her every whim.  She was an undisciplined free
spirit."  He paused and then said, "Corinne," as if the mere
pronouncing of her name would free her ghost from the sleeping walls.
From the look in his eyes, I thought he saw her again, moving softly
over the thick mauve carpet, the train of her dressing gown trailing
behind her.  I imagined that she must have been very beautiful:

"What did she die of?"  I asked.  He had never gone into detail about
her during any of our conversations, even though I had told him about
my mother's death.  I just assumed that her death was so tragic and so
sad for him that he could not talk about it.

"She didn't die of anything here," he said angrily.

"Except maybe boredom.  The boredom that comes with getting everything
you, want, the boredom that comes with pleasing your senses until you
are stupefied  ', .  " .: .  ; .  "

" .  "/," "What do you mean, she didn't die here?"  I asked.

He turned from the mirrors and began toward the door as if to leave the
room."

"Malcolm, I can't be your wife and not know about your past, not know
the things other people, strangers.  Will know.", "She ran off," he
said, stopping with his back to me.

Then he turned around.

"She ran off with anothey main when I was barely five year sold he
added, practically spitting out the words.

"Ran off?"  The revelation left me trembling.  He walked over and sat
on the?  bed beside me.

"She did what she wanted, when she wanted, as she Garden of Shadows
wanted.  Nothing mattered when it came to her owi pleasure.  My God,
OUvia, you know the type," he saii as his hands rested on my
shoulders.

"They are ex acti what you are not flimsy, narcissistic, flighty women
They flirt, they have no loyalty to any man, and the can't be trusted
with anything," he added, and"' reddened immediately.

Suddenly a new look came into ms eyes.  He blinke< as if he had just
convinced himself of something.  Whei he looked at me again, there was
a new expression q) his face.  He still had his hands on my shoulders,
on!;

his grip tightened and became close to painful.  I st arte to pull
back, but he held me even more firmly.

I couldn't turn away from him.  The look in his eye had become
mesmerizing.  After a moment he smiled but smiled insanely, I thought.
His fingers relaxed, bu instead of lifting his hands from me, his
fingers slippe( down over my breasts.  He pressed them against m;

bosom roughly.

"Yes, she left me," he whispered.

"Left me only witi the memory of her touch, of her kiss, of the sweet
seen of her body," he added and inhaled, closing his eyes.

His fingers worked furiously, as if they had a mind o their own, and
pulled the buttons of my blouse open He brought his lips to my neck and
whispered, "Lef me forever in this room to see her, to feel her ..."

He pulled my blouse back roughly.  I was too ten-met to speak.  I even
held my breath.

"Her name echoes throughout this mansion," hA said.

"Corinne," he said.

"Corinne."

His hands were moving down my body, pulling at m] skirt.  I felt the
garment tear loose and slip down.  Hi;

hands felt like mad little creatures at my body, in and  s over the
undergarments, pulling, tugging, stripping me roughly.

"Corinrie," he said.

"I hated her; 1 loved her.  But you wanted to know about my mother. You
wanted to know.  My mother," he added disdainfully.

He sat back and unfastened his pants.  I watched in amazement as he
came at me, not as a loving husband, but as a madman, someone lost in
his own twisted emotions, driven not by affection and desire, but by
hate and passion.

I raised my hands and he pulled my arms apart, pressing them to the
bed.

"My mother.  You're not like my mother.  You would never be like my
mother.  You would never leave the children we will make together, will
you, Olivia?  Will you?"

I shook my head and then I felt him press himself in between my legs,
seizing me roughly.  I wanted to love him, to make him happy, to caress
him softly, but in this state, his face twisted, his eyes burning with
rage, I could only close my own and fall back.

"Please, Malcolm," I whispered, "not like this.

Please.  I won't be like her; I'm not like her.  I'll love you and I'll
love our children."

He didn't hear me.  When I opened my eyes, I saw he was lost in his
anger and his lust.  He came at me over and over again, thrusting into
me viciously.  I wanted to scream, but I was afraid of what it would do
to him and I was embarrassed that my scream might be heard by one of
the servants.  I stifled my cries, biting down on my lip.

Finally, his anger poured into me.  It felt so hot I thought it would
scald me.  He stopped his thrusts; he Garden of Shadows was satiated.
He groaned and then buried his face in my bosom.  I felt his body
shudder and go limp.

There was one final "Corinne," and then he lifted himself from me,
dressed quickly, and left the room.

So now I knew what lived in the shadows of Malcolm Neal Fbxworth,
haunting him.  Now I know why he had chosen a woman like me.  I was the
opposite of his mother.  She was the swan; I was the ugly duckling and
he wanted it that way.  The love I had longed for would never be
mine.

Malcolm's love had already been taken and destroyed by the woman who
haunted this room.  There was none left for me.

The Ghosts of the Past

I WEPT ALONE IN BED THAT NIGHT.  for EVEN THOUGH I thought I knew what
Malcolm wanted, everything grew confused in my mind.  His mother had
left him when he was five years old.  She had not died and she was more
alive than ever in his mind.  The shadows of the night ridiculed me. So
you wanted to know, they whispered, now you know.  My true education
about my husband had begun.  It was not my softness that Malcolm had
wanted me for; it was my hardness.  It was not that mysterious,
graceful, womanly magic he had longed for, but a solid, trustworthy
woman like myself.  I would never be one of those thrilling spring
flowers for Malcolm.  No, I would be like a hardy lily that survived
the frost, the tallest flower in the garden, sturdy, proud, and defiant
of even the coldest winter wind.  That is what Malcolm had seen in me.
That is what I would be.

With this determination I consoled myself and drifted off to a troubled
sleep.

The next morning I awoke early and descended the staircase slowly.  The
beating of my heart made me so Garden of Shadows dizzy I had to take
hold of the balustrade and pause.  I closed my eyes, took a deep
breath, and continued into the dining room.  Malcolm was at the end of
the table, eating his breakfast, as if nothing had happened between
us.

"Good morning, Olivia," he said coldly.

"A place for you has already been set."

All my fears had materialized.  My place was at the opposite end of the
long table.  I tried to catch his eye as I sat down; I tried to read
what he was feeling.  But I couldn't penetrate his facade.  All I could
hope for was that Malcolm had lost himself in his mother's room
yesterday, and that he, like I, was hoping it was something we could
quickly consign to the past and go about building our future together a
future I knew would be practical and filled with material wealth, a
future that would contain none of the frivolous ness that had so
perplexed me and had so hurt Malcolm.

I pressed my lips together and sat down.

"Olivia," Malcolm said, and I heard kindness in his voice.

"It's time to celebrate our wedding.  Tomorrow night will be our
wedding party.  Mrs.  Steiner has made all the preparations and I have
invited anyone who is anyone in the vicinity.  I shall do you proud, my
wife, as I expect you to flatter my own appearance."

I was thrilled.  Obviously he, too, had decided to put yesterday's
events behind us and start our wedding afresh with a celebration.

"Oh, Malcolm, can I help?"

"That won't be necessary, Olivia.  It's already all set for tomorrow
night, and as I said, Mrs.  Steiner has taken care of everything.  My
family has always beeni known for hosting the finest, most extravagant
parties^ and this-time I intend to outdo myself.  For as you know,
Olivia, I have big plans, and of course you are part of them.  Soon I
will be the richest man in the county, then the richest man in the
state, then, perhaps, the richest man in the entire United States  My
parties always reflect my status in society."

I could barely eat.  I wanted to make the best possible impression on
Malcolm's friends and colleagues, but all I could think about was that
I had nothing beautiful enough to wear.  As Mrs.  Steiner poured my
coffee, I kept seeing my wardrobe floating before my eyes--the hanging
gray dresses, the high button collars, the practical blouses.  The
moment my plate was whisked away, I ran to my room and hurriedly
rummaged through.  my closet, so neatly hung by the servants the day
before.  I came upon the blue dress I had worn that night I bad first
met Malcolm.  If it had impressed him then, surely it would impress
everyone else now.  Heit satisfied that the dress would reflect
everything Malcolm wanted in a wife, a woman who was prood,
conservative, well-bred, and, most of alt, the match of Malcolm
Fbxworth.

That afternoon the house was abustle with party preparations.  Since
Malcolm had made it clear that my help was not necessary, I felt I
should stay out of the way.  It was sweet, actually, since the party
was in my honor, that he insisted I have the day to myself.  I
hesitated to continue my explorations of Fbxworth Hall, fearful now of
what I might find lurking in the shadows.  But I had already begun, and
was it not better to know the whole truth than only part?  Now I was
determined more than ever to learn about the people who had lived' here
Asl walked down the haB of the

Garden of Shadows northern wing, I counted fourteen rooms.  Malcolm
had told me that these were his father's rooms.  These hallways were
even darker, colder than the rest of the house.  Finally I came to a
door that was slightly ajar.  I checked to make sure that no one was
watching me and opened it to a good-sized bedroom, although to me it
appeared cluttered with furniture.  So far away from the main life of
the house, it seemed to be a room for hiding people; for unlike the
other rooms in the north wing, with the exception of his father's room,
this one had its own adjoining bath.  I could just imagine Malcolm
condemning one of his more unpopular cousins to these quarters.

The furniture consisted of two double beds, a highboy, a large dresser,
two overstaffed chairs, a dressing table with its own small chair
between me two front windows that were covered with heavy, tapes tried
drapes, a mahogany table with four chairs, and another smaller table
with a lamp.  I was surprised that beneath all the ponderous dark
furniture was a bright Oriental rug with gold fringes.

Had this room indeed served as some sort of hide away, perhaps an
escape for Corinne?  It was most intriguing.  I went farther into it
and discovered another, smaller door at the far end of the closet.  I
opened it and broke the intricate cobwebs that spiders had spun
undisturbed for some time.  After the dust settled before me, I
confronted a small stairway and realized that it must lead up to the
attic.  ;

I hesitated.  Attics like this one had mpre than a sense of history to
mem.  They had mystery.  Faces in portraits were easy to read.  No one
cared if you saw some resemblances, and when I asked about toe
ancestors, Garden of Shadows only the facts, details, and tales
Malcolm wished to tell me would be told.

Truly though, in an attic hidden behind a small door in a closet, there
had to be buried family secrets better kept undiscovered.  Did I want
to continue?  I listened to the house for a moment.  From this position
it was impossible to hear anyone or anything going on below.

The moment I took my first forward step and broke the wisp of cobweb
drawn across the stairway by some guardian spider, I felt it was too
late to turn back.  A spell of silence had been broken: I was going
up.

Never had I seen or imagined an attic as big as this one.  Through the
cloud of dusty particles that danced in the light coming through the
four sets of dormer windows stretched across the front, I gazed down at
the farthest walk.  They were so distant, they seemed hazy, out of
focus.  The air was murky; it had the stale odor of things untouched
for years, already in the early stages of decay.

The wide wooden planks of the floor creaked softly beneath my feet as I
ventured forward slowly, each step tentative and careful.  Some of the
planks looked damp and possibly weakened to the point where they might
split beneath my weight.

I heard some scampering to my right and caught sight of some field mice
that had found their way into what must have been to them the
heavens.

As I looked about, I realized there was enough stored in this attic to
furnish a number of houses.  The furniture was dark, massive, brooding.
Those chairs and tables that were uncovered looked angry, betrayed I
could almost hear them ask, "Why leave us up here unused?  Surely
there is someplace for us below, if Garden of Shadows not in this
house, then in another."  Why had Malcoir and his father kept all this?
Were they both hoarders Were these pieces to be valuable antiques
someday?

Everything of value had been draped with sheets o which dust had
accumulated to turn the white dot dingy gray.  The shapes beneath the
sheets looked like sleeping ghosts.  I was afraid to touch one or nudge
on for fear it would awaken and float right to the ceiling c the attic.
I even stopped to listen, thinking I had hear whispering behind me, but
when I turned around, ther was nothing, no movement, no sound.

For a moment I wished there were voices, for the would be the voices of
Malcolm'spast and what the would say would prove most revealing.  All
of th secrets of Foxworth Hall had found sanctuary here.

was sure of it, and it was that certainty that moved in forward to look
at the rows of leather-bound trunk with heavy brass locks and corners.
They lined on entire wall and some still bore the labels from travel t
faraway places.  Perhaps one or two of these trunks ha been used to
carry Corinne's and Malcolm's fat he Garland's clothing when they went
off on their lione^ moon.

Against the farthest wall giant armoires stood in silent row.  They
looked like sentinels.  I opened th drawers of one of them and found
both Union an Confederate uniforms.  Because of the geographies
position of this part of Virginia, it made sense to m that some of the
Fbxworth family would go thei separate ways and even end up in battle
against on another.  I imagined Poxworth sons as stubborn art
determined as Malcolm, hotheaded and angry,shoiri ing oaths at one
another as some joined the nor then cause, some the southern.  Susrely
those who saw th Garden of Shadows value and importance of
industrialization and business went north.  Malcolm would have gone
north.

I put the uniforms back and looked at some old clothing like my mother
used to wear.  Here was a frilly chemise to be worn over pantaloons,
with dozens of fancy petticoats over the wire hoops, all bedecked in
ruffles, lace, embroidery, with flowing ribbons of velvet and satin.
How could something so beautiful be hidden away and forgotten?

I put the garment back and moved across the floor to look at some of
the old books left in stacks.  There were dark ledgers with yellowing
pages, the ends of which crumbled when I opened the covers.  Beside
them were dress forms, all shapes and sizes, and bird cages and stands
to hold them.  How wonderful!  I thought.  I should bring these cages
back downstairs and bring back the music of birds.  Surely that would
enliven Foxworth Hall.  I slapped my hands together to rid them of the
dust and started back toward the stairway, when a picture left atop a
dresser caught my eye.

I went to it and looked down at a pretty woman, perhaps no more than
eighteen or nineteen.  She wore a faint, enigmatic smile.  She was
ravishingly beautiful.

Her bosom swelled out suggestively from a ruffled bodice.  I was
mesmerized by her smile, a smile that seemed to promise more and more
right before my eyes.  Suddenly it occurred to me who this was.  I was
looking at Malcolm's mother!  This was Corinne Foxworth!  There were
clear resemblances in the eyes and in the mouth.

Could Malcolm have brought her picture up here to hide away with the
rest of he past?  But there was something even more unusual about this
picture: it sparkled unlike anything else in the room.  Everything
Garden of Shadows ie I hs^sd toriied had a film of dust over it.
Everytl Ac lefCttft smudges on my fingers.  This picture was di (tar,
folA-eshly dusted and polished.  It was just like Born.  Itlsit seeaed
that everything that was Corinne'slept sp B>otlea, shining, and
cherished.  Who in Imse w awas praerving Corinne Fbxworth so loving
naldn'tt^ be ifalcolm's father--he Was in Europe.

Bvantsffs?  Or... was it Malcolm?

How ; many other things up here had once bel on ib Malcsacolm's mother?
I wondered.  Surely they en ted " him.  He must have put them up here
to I ton freaiom hit view and from stiiring up his ehildb vsaonff es,
and yet, just like the swan room, drew 1 tek..  ' I had come up here
hoping to discover answers, had fou Ad more puzzles and more mystery. 
I put jiitture <iown carefully and started toward the & itarway--. 
when I discovered another, separate roon te attic-^, right off a second
stairway.  It looked like liool el^assroom because it had five desks
facing a la tek up front.  Blackboards lined three walls over 1
kookcas^ss filled with faded and dusty old volumes.

Iwents: to the desk and saw where names and da ee etcfcaed: Jonathan,
age eleven, 1864 and Adelai y nine^ 1879.  There were two coal or wood
stove!

tecomessrs.  It wasn't just a playroom; it had been at (fassrooEea and
could easily be restructured into < ct.  Wass it traditional for the
Fbxworth children Bceive tiaeir earfy education?

Wealtlyy, special, provided with a tutor, ) Bxwortli children were
schooled in the attic ftiwortte Hall, far enough away from the adults
so of to be?  any bother.  Why, ^Y could even play be on rainy days, I
thought, noticing the sin Garden of Shadows rocking horse.  How many
hours of his childhood had Malcolm spent up here?

I went over to one of the dormer windows and looked out at what would
have been: his view, but all I saw was a slate black roof fanning wide
beneath the windows, blocking the view of the ground below.

Beyond the roofs were treetops; beyond the treetops, enclosing
mountains were shrouded by blue mists.  It was not the kind of view
that would distract children

In a way, I thought, looking back down the vast attic, they were
imprisoned here.  I shuddered, remembering my mother shutting me in a
closet because I had tracked in mud all over her bedroom carpet.
Although the door wasn't locked, I was forbidden to open it.  I was
told if I did, I would be kept in longer, so although I was terrified
of the terrible darkness and the small space around me, I sobbed
silently and kept my fingers from the closet door.

The revived memory lingered like molasses on my fingers.  I couldn't
shake it off while I remained in the attic, so I hurried to the front
stairway, which I noticed was far clearer than the rear stairway. There
were no cobwebs here.  I descended the steps and left the long, dark,
and dusty room behind me, its secrets and its mysteries still intact.

I had barely scratched the surface of who the Poxworths really were and
here I was, now one of them.

That evening, when Malcolm asked how I had spent my day, I didn't dare
tell him about finding his mother's picture in the attic, but I did
tell him I had found the room at the end of the north wing.

"There were some cousins who were an embarrass73 else I had touched
hadafihaof dust over it.  Everytl else left smudges on my fingers. This
picture was ck dear, freshly dusted and polished.  It was just like
room.  it seemed that everything that was Corinne's kept spotless,
shining, and cherished.  Who in house was preserving Corinne Boxworth
so lovingly couldn't be Malcolm's father he was in Europe."

servants?  Or .. . was it Malcolm?

How many other things up here had once bel on to Malcolm's mother?  I
wondered.  Surely they men ted him.  He must have put them up here to k
them from his view and from stirring up his etiildb memories, and yet,
just like the swan room, drew 1 back.

I had come up here hoping to discover answers , had found more puzzles
and more mystery.  I put picture down carefully and started toward the
& stairway, when I discovered another, separate roon the attic, right
off a second stairway.  It looked like school classroom because it had
five desks feeing a la desk up front.  Blackboards lined three walls
over bookcases filled with faded and dusty old volumes.

I went to the desk and saw where names and ds were etched Jonathan, age
eleven, 1864 and Adelai age nine, 1879.  There were twocoa!  or wood
stove the corners.  It wasn't just a playroom; it had been a l
classroom and could easily be restructured into < now.  Was it
traditional for theFdxworth childret receive their early education?

Wealthy, special, provided with a tutor, FOx worth children were
schooled in the attic Fbxworth Hall, far enough away from the adults sc
not to be any bother.  Why, they could even play here on rainy days, I
thought, noticing the sa Garden of Shadows rocking horse.  How many
hours of his childhood had Malcolm spent up here?

I went over to one of the dormer windows and looked out at what would
have been his view, but all I saw was a slate black roof fanning wide
beneath the windows, blocking the view of the ground below.

Beyond the roofs were treetops; beyond the treetops, enclosing
mountains were shrouded by blue mists.  It was not the kind of view
that would distract children.

In a way, I thought, looking back down the vast attic, they were
imprisoned here.  I shuddered, remembering my mother shutting me in a
closet because I had tracked in mud all over her bedroom carpet.
Although the door wasn't locked, I was forbidden to open it.  I was
told if I did, I would be kept in longer, so although I was terrified
of the terrible darkness and the small space around me, I sobbed
silently and kept my fingers from the closet door.

The revived memory lingered like molasses on my fingers.  I couldn't
shake it off while I remained in the attic, so I hurried to the front
stairway, which I noticed was far clearer than the rear stairway. There
were no cobwebs here, I descended the steps and left the long, dark,
and dusty room behind me, its secrets and its mysteries still
intact..

I had barely scratched the surface of who the Fbxworths really were and
here I was, now one of them.

That evening, when Malcolm asked how I had spent my day, I didn't dare
tell him about finding his mother's picture in the attic, but I did
tell him I had found the room at the end of the north, wing.

"There were some cousins who were an embarrassment to the Fbxworths
many years ago," he said, "a they were cloistered there for a time."

"It looked like a place for someone to hide from i world," I said.  He
grunted, not keen to tell me m< about the cousins or why they were kept
living the When I told him I had wandered up to the attic i found the
bird cages which I wished to bring down, became rather annoyed.

"My mother had them all over this place," he sa "At times it sounded
like an aviary.  Leave them will they are.  Think of more dignified
things to do when 5 re-decorate the house."

I was not about to argue any matter that concen Malcolm's mother.  We
talked a bit about Chariott ville and he described his offices and why
he Was busy.  He blamed it on a number of slipshod practii -and poor
decisions his father had made just befi beginning his travels and going
into semi-retire me But then he returned to a happier note.

"I made a rather good move in the stock marl today.  I bought one
thousand shares at twenty-four a by late afternoon it was up to fifty.
A brilliant move,^ do say so myself.  Do you know much about the stc
market, Olivia?"

"No, not really," I said.

"I kept track ofmyfatlw investments, of course, but I couldn't advise
him as where to place his funds and where not to."

"Precisely why you ought to reconsider what you' with your own fortune,
Olivia.  In my hands it could developed, increased, grow the way it is
meant grow."  ^ "

" '" - 'll-y "Must we talk about that tonight, Malcolm?  Ther so much
for me to get used to."  * His eyes clouded over, and he picked up his
wai Garden of Shadows and drank the entire glass down.

"Of course, dear.  As a matter of fact, I have to be going now anyway.
I have some business to attend to.  But I shan't be late.  I'll return
just after you retire for the day," he said.  Then, to be sure his
meaning was clear, he added, "Olivia, don't bother to wait up for
me."

5_________

My Wedding Party the GUESTS FOR THE RECEPTION BEGAN TO ARRIVE A LTITL
after one, fashionably late.  Alone, with a few minute to contemplate
myself, I stood before the mirror an' studied the image I presented.
With my hair up in il usual manner, and the bodice of my blue dress
some what tight and adding to the uplift in my bosom, an the fullness
of the skirt, I thought I looked gargantuar Because of the way the
full-length mirror had bee;

hung, I actually had to step back a few extra feet to se my entire
body, from head to toe, in the glass.

Was there any style I could wear that would make m look dainty and
lovable?  I could have let my hair dowc but I was always so
self-conscious about that.  It mad me feel rather undressed.

I wondered if I was wrong to hope that this dress, th one that had
attracted Malcolm, was dignified enough Would Malcolm's friends and
business acquaintance find me impressive?  I closed my eyes and imagine
myself standing beside him.  Surely, this was something;

he himself had imagined before he took me as his bride He must have
been happy with' the picture that formed in his mind, because he
married me arid he wanted to introduce me to fine society here.  I
tried to convince myself I should be more confident, but I couldn't
keep that small bird from fluttering its nervous wings inside my
chest.

I pressed my hand against my breasts, took a deep breath, and started
down the dual winding staircase to the foyer.  Even though it was a
bright day and we had more than the usual amount of sunlight pouring in
the windows, Malcolm wanted to be sure that Fbxworth Hall felt cheerful
and gay, so he had ordered that all five tiers of the four crystal and
gold chandeliers be fitted with candles and lit.

The room was brilliant, but my nervousness made my face feel so hot, it
was as if I were descending into a pit of fire.  I was breathing so
quickly, I had to pause to catch my breath.  My legs actually trembled
and for a moment my feet felt glued to the steps of the winding
staircase.  I thought I would be unable to go any farther.

I took a firm hold of the balustrade.  My eyes filled with tears.  The
light from the lamps and the candles blurred, and the reflections that
emerged from the giant crystal fountain spraying its pale amber fluid,
and the silver receiving bowl at the center of the foyer, looked like
threads forming a cobweb of fight across the room.  The mirrors
reflected the light from the silver cups on trays, and sent h to be
caught by the poB shed frames of chairs and sofas lining the walls.  '
Finally, I got hold of myself and continued down.

"This is to be a festive occasion," I overheard Malcolm commanding the
servants.

"Make people feel comfortable and relaxed.  Watch for emptied glasses
and plates.  Get them up and out of the way quickly.

Circulate with the caviar, the small sandwiches, ai petit fours
continually.  Guests should merely feel i inclination and then find you
there beside them.  B always, when you serve, smile, look pleasant, and
1 ready to be of some assistance.  And carry napkins, ( you hear?  I
don't want people looking about for a plato wipe their fingers."

Malcolm saw me descend the stairs.

"Ah, Olivi there you are," he said.  I thought I saw a flicker '
disappointment pass over his face.

"Come with m we'll greet all our guests at the entrance, just affa
Lucas announces them."

I laced my arm through Malcolm's, feeling nervou tense, but doing my
best not to show any of that.  K looked remarkably cool and collected,
as though he di this sort of thing every day.  He looked handsome, i
control, dashing.  I hoped that on his arm, I would to The bell rang.
The first guests had arrived!

"Mr.  an Mrs.  Patterson," Lucas announced.  Mr.  Patterson wi a short,
rotund man with a pink flush blushing h cheeks.  Mrs.  Patterson,
however, was dainty, thu rimmed in lace, and wearing a dress that
barely co vere her knees!  Her hair was worn down in ringlets, hell
into place by a daring bejeweled headband.  Why, didn't know people
actually wore such costumes.  I' seen them only in fashion magazines.

"I'd like to present my wife," Malcolm said.  And as moved to greet
Mrs. Patterson, I saw her eyes climb u to the summit of my head, then
slink once again to m feet, then climb again, this time to Malcolm,
where they rested on his blue eyes as a wry smile formed o her lips.

Mr.  Patterson broke the tension by grasping my ham warmly and saying,
"Olivia, welcome to Virginia., hope Malcolm is showing you all the
pleasures of our Virginia hospitality."

Mrs.  Patterson, finally tearing her eyes from Malcolm merely looked at
me and sighed "Indeed."

The remainder of the guests followed in a steady stream, and soon the
party was in full swing.

The men were correct and pleasant, but I was shocked to see that all
the women wore sacklike dresses that ended just below or even above the
knee and were either waist less or belted at hip level.  The fine thin
fabrics were all pale creams, beiges, whites, and soft pastels.  I
thought they looked more like little girls than dignified women.  Their
large-scale accessories, huge artificial flowers of silk and velvet,
and heavy ropes of beads, emphasized their diminutive size and added to
their childish appearance.

Beside them, I was a veritable giant, Gulliver in Lilliput, the land of
the tiny people.  Every gesture, every move I made seemed exaggerated.
There wasn't a woman I didn't look down oo, and almost all the men were
shorter than I was.

I must say the crowd was extraordinarily gay.  What ever inhibitions
they possessed were immediately dropped as they moved from the punch
bowls to the trays of food.  The sound of chatter and laughter grew
with every passing moment.  By the time Malcolm thought it best we
begin to circulate among pur guests, the foyer roared with laughter and
loud conversation.  I had never been at such a gathering of exhilarated
people.

My first reaction was to feel happy about It; it looked like my
reception was off to a wonderful start, but as I began to circulate
amongst the guests, my exuberant feelings fizzled, for I felt a chill
in the air between me Garden of Shadows and these gay, lighthearted,
and surprisingly whimsical people.

The women were drawn into small groups, some of them smoking cigarettes
held in long ivory cigarette holders.  All of them, I thought, looked
very sophisticated and worldly.  Whenever I joined a group of them,
however, they ended their line of conversation and looked at me as
though I were an intruder.  They made me feel like an uninvited guest
at my own party.

They asked how I liked living in Virginia, and:

especially, how I Hked living in Foxworth Hall.  I tried!

to give them intelligent answers, but most of them| seemed impatient
with my responses, as though they didn't really care about my opinion,
or as though the^ didn't really expect me to make such an elaborate
response.

"I

Almost immediately after I finished speaking, thei| began to talk about
the latest fashions.  I had no ideaj what some of the things they were
referring to were.^ "Can you see yourself in one of those midd||
blouses?"  Tamara Livingston asked me.  Her husban^ owned and operated
the biggest lumber mm in Chai| tottesville.  3 "I I'm not sure what
they are," I sAid.  1 The group stared at me and then they carried on
,3 though 1 weren't standing there.  As soon as I walkeg away, there
were peals of laughter.

"J

These women were so silly, I thought, All they talker about was
clothing styles or ways to redecorate the^ homes.  None of them said
anything about politics (fl business and in none of my conversations
did I heflB mention of a book.  As the reception went on, th^B looked
sillier and sillier to me, laughing and gigglinj Garden of Shadows
flirting with their long eyelashes, their shoulders and hands.

I expected Malcolm would become outraged at the loss of decorum as time
passed, but whenever I looked for him, he was standing among a group of
these women, laughing, permitting them to put their hands on him,
letting them rub up against him, petting him rather suggestively.

I was shocked.  These were the kind of women he despised vapid, frilly
types without ah ounce of selfrespect.  But there he was, rushing to
bring a glass of punch to this one or th atone or feeding a petit four
to a woman who let him press the small cake through her lips.  One even
licked the crumbs off the tips of his fingers.

When I heard Amanda Biddens, the wife of one of Malcolm's business
associates say, "I simply must see your library, Malcolm.  I want to
see where you sit and dream up all those schemes to make millions," I
was appalled to see him take her arm and lead her through the heavy
double doors.  I felt as if I'd been publicly slapped in the face.  My
cheeks stung and tears sprang to my eyes.  It took all of my strength
not to follow them, but to remain dignified and in control, wandering
about the party, giving the servants orders from time to time, eating
and drinking very little myself.  No one sought me out for any
prolonged conversation.  Some of the men asked me questions about my
father's business, but when I began to give them detailed answers.,
they seemed bored.  Eventually I began to hear things being said about
me.  Those in conversation didn't realize I was within earshot or
simply didn't care.

One woman asked another why Malcolm Nei Foxworth, a man with such looks
and wealth, would burden himself with someone so tall and plain, ster
and Yankeeish as roe.

"Knowing Malcolm," the other said, "it has to have something to do with
business."

I could see from the way others were talking soft] and looking at me
that as the reception wore on, I ha become the subject of ridiculing
remarks.  I even hear someone criticize my dress.  She said I looked
like walked out of a museum.

"Maybe she's a statue brought to life," her com par ion replied.

"You call that 'brought to life'?"

They laughed and laughed.  I looked hopefully fe Malcolm.  But he was
nowhere to be found.  Prom out c nowhere Mr.  Patterson appeared, and
took my am "Let's get that husband of yours to help me see Mrs.
Patterson to the car.  I'm afraid she's had a bit too muc to drink."

Before I could stop him, Mr.  Patterson had swun open the library
doors.  I was shocked to find Malcoli seated behind his desk, with
Amanda Biddens drape across the mahogany top.  He had a silly smile on
hi face.  His hair was ruffled, his tie askew.

"Olivia," h called, "come meet Amanda."

She propped her head on an elbow and looked up i me.

"Don't you remember.  Male?"  she cooed.

"I'v already been introduced to your bride."

I was practically shaking with rage and humiliatior but once again Mr.
Patterson intervened.

"Malcolm of man, I need some help with the little missus again," h said
pointedly.  Cheerfully, Malcolm rose, and wit hoi so much as a look my
way, followed Mr.  Patterson on the door.  Through one of the windows,
I could see them lifting Mrs.  Patterson into the chauffeur-driven car,
her entire leg exposed all the way up to her garter.

Her foot was bare.  Malcolm retrieved her shoes from the drive and
tossed them into the backseat.  Amanda, hovering beside me, said
teasingly, "Your husband always was there for a damsel in distress. I'm
glad to see marriage hasn't changed that."

I was glad when the reception began to wind down.

Guests sought us outtosay their good-byes and wish us good hick.
Malcolm had to take a position beside me again.  He reverted to his
usual self and became more dignified.  I knew that the women who
promised to call on me would never do so, but I didn't care about it.

By the time the last couple left, T was exhausted, hurt, humiliated,
but grateful it was over.  I told Malcolm I was tired and I was going
up to my room.

"It was rather a nice affair, don't you think?"  he asked me.  ; , "I
didn't think much of the guests, especially the women," I responded.

"Although Isaw you did."

He looked at me with some surprise in his face as I pivoted and
ascended the staircase."  I felt defeated and let down.  Malcolm should
not have gone into the library with that lascivious woman, leaving me
in that crowd of vipers.  If this was what Virginiasociety was, I was
glad they didn't take to me, I told myself.

And yet, I couldn't help thinking about the way some of those women
moved about -the freedom they seemed to enjoy, the confidence they had
in their own looks and desirable ness and the way the men in the party
looked at them.  No one looked at me that way with eyes filled with
admiration and longing.

My exhaustion wasn't as much physical as it was Garden of Shadows
mental and emotional.  When I slipped under ray;

blanket and lowered my head to the pillow, I felt like crying.  The
reception that I had hoped would give me the respect I longed for had
done just the opposite.

How could I show my face anywhere now after the way Malcolm had behaved
at his own wedding party?  I hugged my pillow in solace and fell into a
tortured sleep.  Demons in the guise of flappers haunted n- dreams so
that I never slept for more than a fe minutes, and my tears fell again
and again until I brol out into sobs.  Finally, I sobbed myself to
welcot sleep.

Sometime before morning I heard the door ere.

open, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Malcolm Ne Roxworth, naked in
the moonlight, his manliness looi ing over me.

"I want a son," he said.  ;

I shuddered and glared my eyes at him, but I didn'i say a word.

"You must concentrate on what we are about to Olivia," he said as he
climbed onto the bed.

"That' we have a better chance of succeeding."

He peeled back my blanket and came at me.  I frightened by his
intensity and determination.  0 again, he gave me no tenderness or
affection.

I turned into him, hoping for a kiss, listening some soft words, but
his face was stone serious, sky-blue eyes curiously lifeless.  It was
as though he 1 turned them off and was seeing only what was beh them.

What da he see as be had his way with me?  Did, envision Amanda Bidden?
His mother?  Someone els Was he making love to some dream woman?  In 1
mind did he bear the words of love?  It wasn't fair.

Garden of Shadows I fell back against the pillow and turned my face
away from his.  My body shook and trembled.  When I felt his seed
emerging, I looked into his glassy eyes and thought I could almost hear
him willing it to find its destination.

Afterward, he fell against me like an exhausted marathon runner, but I
was grateful for the way he clung to my body.  At least there was some
warmth in that.

"Good," he muttered, "good," and backed off me.

He put on his robe and gazed at himself in the minor as if his image
would now congratulate him.  He saw something very pleasing in his own
contented smile and smiled at me.

"I hope, Olivia," he said, "that yon are as fertile as I 'expected."
..

"You can't command nature, Malcolm.  Nature is neither your servant,
near mine."  ; .

"I want a son," he repeated.

"I married you because you are the serious type of woman who can be
mistress of a great house, but also because you have a full body that
can provide me with the children I require," he said.  I stared at him,
unable to respond.  His eyes were hard; he was a stranger to me.

I knew that everything he said was true a woman should be a good wife,
a good-mistress of her husband's house, sensible and reliable, someone
on whom he could depend, and, of course, a good breeder of children;
but all of this was missing something even more important, and that was
love.

I would live in this big house and have everything a woman could want
materially.  People living below in small houses and with small incomes
would be envious of me whenever I came down from the hill, but could
anything grow strong and beautiful in Fonworth Hall if Garden of
Shadows there wasn't love and affection to nourish it?  I thougl of all
the shadows, all the damp and dark corners, tl dimly lit hallways, the
cold, closed rooms, that dust dingy attic filled with the dead past,
and Ishudderec "Malcolm, when you first looked at me, when ye courted
me, there must have been stronger feenng feelings that--" "Please," he
said, "don't talk to me about feelings.

don't want to hear about bells ringing and the wori turning
rose-colored.  My mother's letters are filled wit such silly
references."

"Letters?"

"She wrote to my father when they were courting.

"Where are her letters?"  .

"I burned them, turned them back to (he smoke the were.  I have a busy
day tomorrow, Olivia," he sai( obviously wanting to change the subject
quickly; "G< a good night's'sleep,"lie said.  And with that, he left m
bedroom.  ;

In his wake he left a deep, deadly silence, like til silence that comes
before a great storm.  Even h footsteps echoing down the hallway
sounded mile away.  I embraced myself and sat up in my bed.

No wonder he clumped me with the servants whe we first drove up to
Foscworth Hall.  In his mind I wt hired on to perform a role, fulfill a
specific set < functions, just the way a house servant would be hire No
wonder when he spoke about having a son i sounded like a command. '

Fathers and Sons malcolm HAD WAS WAY.  our TOST SON WAS BORN NINE
months and two weeks from the date of the reception to introduce me to
the fine Virginia society.  We named him Malcolm, for his father, but
we called him Mal so it would be easier to distinguish between them. By
this time I knew without a doubt that Mafcolm was a strong, forceful
man who always got whatever he wanted.  He was always a winner because
he never entered a battle without first assuring himself that the odds
were on his side.  This was the way he conducted business; this was the
way he conducted his life.  I had no doubt that he would go a long way
toward becoming one of the richest men in the world before he died.

After Mal was born, my hopes for love were born again for a short time.
I thought that Mat's birth would bring Malcolm closer to me.  Since I
had come here, I had been treated more Idee a maid than like a wife.

Malcolm worked all day, every day, returned late at night, hardly ever
even sharing dinner with me.  We never went anywhere, and the "society"
whom I'd been introduced to at the reception seemed to have quic
forgotten my existence.  Now that the son Malcolm wanted had arrived, I
thought he might want to have closer family life, and would perhaps
become more ( loving husband.  I looked upon the birth of the bab^ the
coming of something wonderful for our mama Mal would be a bridge
between has father and mysi drawing us toward each other in ways
neither of expected.

Like any other mother, I was thrilled at each coo each smile, at each
new accomplishment of my wond fill, adorable son.  And I waited for
Malcolm's reti each day with happy news of our son's progress.

"There's no question he recognizes you now, M colml" "Today he crawled
for the first time!"

"Today he said his first word!"

"Mal began to walk today!"

Each announcement should have had us hugging 2 kissing, grateful that
we had a healthy child.  1 Malcolm reacted to everything the baby did
witi surprising indifference, as though he had expected less.  He took
it all for granted and never showe< father's delight and happiness.

If anything, he was impatient with the baby's pn ress.  He was
intolerant of the growing process a didn't want to be around to watch
the baby make small but continuous movements forward.  He hat et when I
brought the baby to the dinner table a ordered me to feed Mal before
our own meals.  Ra did he go into the baby's nursery.

Before little Mal was two years old, I was pregnl again, made so by
another swift and loveless enc(M ter.  Malcolm was'detsermined to have
a big family, < Garden of Shadows now he, wanted a daughter.  This
second pregnancy proved harder, for me, I don't know why.  I was sick
in the mornings.  Late in my pregnancy my doctor told me he wasn't
happy about how it was going.  His fears proved accurate, for during
the seventh month I nearly had a miscarriage and then, just at the
start of the eighth month, Joel Joseph was born prematurely.

From the start he was a small, fragile, sickly child, with pale thin
hair and blue Fbxworth eyes.  Malcolm was upset that I hadn't given him
a daughter, and angry that Joel was not a healthy child.  I knew he
blamed it on me, even though I did nothing to endanger the baby and
followed all of the doctor's orders concerning nutrition.

He said, "The Foxworths are noted for being healthy and strong.  Let it
be your goal and responsibility to see that this baby of yours changes
and becomes what I would expect my sons to be strong, aggressive,
assertive, manly in all ways."

One day after the Poxwprth family doctor.  Dr.

Braxten, had come to see me, Malcolm came up to my room.  The doctor
told him he didn't believe I would be able to have any more children.

"That's impossible," Malcolm thundered.

"I have not gotten a daughter yet!"

"Be reasonable now' Malcolm Dr.  Braxten calmed him.

Didn't Malcolm care at all about my health?

Neither the doctor nor I anticipated Malcolm's vehement reaction.  His
face became bright red and he bit down on his lip as if to keep himself
from speaking.

Then he stepped back, looking from me to the doctor and then to me
again.

"What is this, something you two have concocted?"

S9

Garden ofSfwdews "Pardon me, sir," Dr.  Braxten said.  He was a mar
his late fifties, who was highly respected in his He The doctor's face
paled amiost to the shade of thatch of gray hair.  His large fish like
eyes, magn if beneath those thick-lensed glasses, widened.

"Are you standing there and telling me I will ne1 have another child?
Never have a daughter?"

"Why, yes...1..."

"How dare you, sir?  How dare you presume?"

"It's nota matter of presuming, Malcolm.  This 1 pregnancy was quite
difficult and" "I'll hear no more of this," he said, and turned to!

with as hateful a face as I have ever seen him wear.

won't hear of it, you understand?"  Then he sp around like a marionette
on strings and stormed out my bedroom.  Dr.  Braxteh was embarrassed
for me, I didn't prolong his stay any longer.

Of course, I was shocked by Malcolm's attitude, I by this time I had
hardened myself against his lira and terrible remarks.  He didn't bring
it up again, an didn't discuss it with him.  I wasn't sorry I coukhrt
lk him any more children  He wasn't a man who enjoy the children he
had.

He seemed to ignore Maland to blame Joel for i being a daughter, the
daughter I never realized" wanted so much.  He was even more intolerant
of t sound of Joel's crying and often spent days with seeing or
speaking to either child.  If he had be intolerant of Mal's growing
process, he was an of about Joel's.  God forbid the baby messed his
diaper his presence or spit up food while Malcolm was in t room.  ; ';
^ ;- "* Sometimes, I thought he was ashamed of his IM family, as if
having only two children was a blightba I Garden of' Shadows manhood.
It wasn't until Mal was nearly three years old that he took the four of
us anywhere together.

We went to tour his fabric nulls.  All the while, whenever he pointed
something out, he spoke to Mal as though his infant son would
understand.

"This is all going to be yours someday, Mal," he said, speaking as
though Joel wouldn't be alive after he died or as though Joel didn't
matter.

"I expect you will expand it, make it into something of a Fbxworth
empire."

We returned to Fbxworth Hall on a bright spring day.

The leaves were bursting out to say hello to the fresh April sunlight.
My boys pointed at the robins eating fresh worms from the grass, and
jumped and giggled like merry spring Iambs.  As I entered Fbxworth
Hall, Mrs.  Steiner rushed out to meet me.

"Oh, Mrs.  Fbxworth, I'm so glad you're back.  A telegram arrived from
Connecticut for you this morning, and I'm sure it's something
important."

My heart skipped.  What could this mean?  I tore open the envelope as
Mrs.  Steiner leaned nosily over my shoulder.

OUVIA FOX WORTH STOP

WITH MY DEEPEST SYMPATHIES AND GREATEST RBSPECTS

I REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR FATHER

HAS BEEN TAKEN BY THE LORD TO HIS BOSOM STOP

FUNERAL HAS BEEN SET FOR APRIL SEVENTH

I crumpled the telegram to my breast, hollow now from grief.  April 7
was tomorrow!  Little Mal was pulling on my skirt.

"Mommy, Mommy, what's wrong, why are you crying?"  ; , Garden of
Shadows Malcolm grabbed the crumpled telegram from hand and read it.

"Malcolm, I must go immediate!

must go on the next train!"

"What?"  he said sternly.

"What do you plan to with the boys?"

"Malcolm, I'll leave them with you; Mrs.  Steuu here to help, so is Mrs
Stuart."

"But I would have to be in charge.  Olivia, a worn;

place is with her children."

"He's my father, Malcolm, my only father.  I mus there for his
funeral."

Malcolm and I argued the matter until it was too 1 By the time Malcolm
assented to let me go, the n train had already left, and the morning
train I fin boarded arrived in New London five hours after father's
funeral had ended.  I went home to find J Amos and Father's lawyer
sitting in the parlor.

My eyes were red and swollen from the tears I s on that long train
ride--tears of sadness for my fall but I know they were also for me.
Now I was alone different way than ever I had been before.

Both stood up as soon as they saw me, and Ji Amos came over and took my
hand in his.  He become a man since I'd last seen him.  A man i
twenty-three years old, tall and stern and kind.

tears began again as he talked to me.

"Olivia, I'n glad to see you.  I was surprised by your absence at
funeral, but I know you'd approve of it.  I saw to it 1 your father was
received by his maker in a most pro way.  Now come sit down Olivia, you
remember I Teller, your father's lawyer--it seems your fal added some
rather odd clauses to his will that need to straighten out."  < Mr.
TeBer, too, took my hand and looked at me K sympathy in his eyes and we
all sat in the dark, gloomy room.

My mind was numb as all the details were explained.

Father had left me his entire estate under the sole condition that only
I manage the money.  Oh--I know what he had done.  He had made sure
Malcolm Foxworth would never get his hands on my money.  Oh, Father,
how did you know the truth so long before I did!  And why did you let
me marry that man?  My tears fell and I hid my head inmy lap.

John Amos asked Mr.  Teller to leave, telling him we'd make our
decisions and let him know before I returned to Virginia.

What a comfort John Amos was to me!  And during the two days I stayed
in New London, I poured my heart out to him.  By the time I left, John
Amos knew more about me than anyone else in the world.  And I knew,
with his love of God and family, that I could trust him, always.  It
was a knowledge that grew in me as the years passed, and always, when
things were hardest, I would turn to John Amos, writing him long
letters and he would write me back with words of comfort from both
himself and God---for he' soon began studying theology at a New England
seminary.

He was my only family and he was wise and caring--so unlike Malcolm.
Bur I returned to Virginia somehow strengthened--I had lost my
father--but had gained a brother, an advisor, a spiritual counselor.

"Now, Olivia," John said as he saw me off at the station, "return to
your husband and boys, and may the Lord go with you.

I am here whenever you need me."

Malcolm showed no regret at all at my father's death.

The very day I returned he started in again about my fortune.   s
"Well, Olivia, you arc now a rich woman, in yoi right.  How do you
intend to control your fortui now?"

I told him I had no plans, I was still mourning n father and was hardly
interested in thinking abo money right now.

Weeks passed with our barely speaking, except fi Malcolm's almost daily
inquiries about my plans for n father's estate.  Then one day Malcolm
appeared in tl nursery to make an announcement that would chanj our
lives completely.  It was so rare to see him in tl nursery that I
greeted him warmly, hoping he had con because he had a father's sincere
interest in his eh dren.  I was teaching Mal the alphabet, using block
and Joel was in his crib sucking on his bottle.  The roo:

was somewhat messy because children, especial three-year-old children,
drop things everywhere.  I us ally had it cleaned and straightened by
the end of tl day.

"Is this a playpen or a pigpen?"  Malcolm asked.

"If you were here more often, you would unde stand," I responded.  He
grunted.  I sensed that 1 wasn't here to discuss the children.

"I have something to tell you," he said, "if you a tear yourself away
from those blocks for a moment."

I rose from the floor, straightened my dress, az went to him..

"Well?"

"My father... Garland is returning.  He will | here in a week."

"Oh."  I. didn't really know what to say.  All that I kne about Garland
I knew from studying his portrait a6 listening to the odds and ends
Malcolm offered few

Garden of Shadows time to time.  I knew he had been fifty-five when he
left and I knew from his latest pictures that he was a handsome man who
didn't look his age.  The gray in his hair, what little there was of
it, was nearly indi sting guishable from the gold.  He stood nearly as
tall as Malcolm and in his heyday had been quite an athlete, sportsman,
and, despite Malcolm's criticisms of his most recent decisions,
businessman.

"However, he won't be returning to his room in the north wing. Instead,
he will take the room next to yours in the south wing.  You'll have to
see that the suite is made livable, not that my father really knows the
difference."

"Isee."

"No, you don't see.  The reason he wants a warmer room with an
adjoining bath is because he is bringing his bride with him."

"Bride?  You mean, your father has remarried after all these years?"

"Yes, bride."  Malcolm turned away for a moment, then turned back.

"I never told you, but he married before he left for Europe."

"What?  Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, you'll see, Olivia.  You'll understand soon enough," he said,
raising his voice.

Joel starred to cry.  By now both our sons were sensitive to Malcolm's
outbursts, and Joel, especially, had an inordinate fear of his own
father.  Mal was getting to be the same way.

"You're scaring the children," I said.  ' "I'll do worse than that if
he isn't quiet when I speak.

Quiet!"  he demanded.  Mal's face froze and hA choked on his tears.
Joel turned over and sobbed quietly in his crib..... ..- : - -i-'
^...";

Garden of Shadows "Just prepare yourself," Malcolm said, spitting oui
his words between his teeth and storming out of the nursery.

Prepare myself?  I thought.  What could he mean?

Did he hate his father so much?  Did he not want to share Foxworth
Hall?

I didn't care about being the sole mistress of this house.  There was
to be another woman here, the wife of a fifty-five-year-old man.
Surely, she would be an ally.  I would look upon her, perhaps, as the
mother who had died too soon for me.  I could go to her for advice
about Malcolm and myself.  Surely, someone that much older would be
wiser in the ways of men and!

women.  I was happy at the prospect of Garland- tual wife returning.  I
"Malcolm," I asked later at dinner, "will we have t | leave Foxworth
Hall?  Do you want a home of youjj own?"  1 "Move out?"  :| "Well, I
thought..  ."  j "Are you insane?  Where would we go?  Buy or builJ a
new home and leave all this?  I'll take care of m| father; his bride is
your problem and your responsibiMJ ty.  You maintain control of this
house and keep it|j respectable, properly run home.  Don't tell me
you'll| afraid of her," he added with a sneer; ^| "Of course not.  I
just thought since your father is 4| older man that..."  :.l| "My
father is older, but not wiser," Malcolm ssSu "He is more than ever
dependent upon me.  While m was off gallivanting through Europe with
his new wq I was expanding our business empire and seizing hg|l of all
the controls.  Our board of directors have praflj cally forgotten what
he looks like, and I've added soiq Garden of Shadows new blood since
he went away.  It would take him a year to understand all of the new
developments.

"No," he added more thoughtfully, "don't feel you have to be
subordinate to his wife.  Remember the kind of woman who impresses my
father."

His face drawn and sad, Malcolm walked off, the shadow of his mother's
memory over him.

I said nothing more about it.  I directed the maids to straighten and
clean the suite next to mine and then put off thinking about the
arrival of Malcolm's father and his bride.

Perhaps I shouldn't have, but nothing I could have done, nothing
Malcolm could have done, would have prepared me for the first shock of
their arrival, or prepared Malcolm for an even greater one.

Garden of Shadows "I can remember," he insisted.

"I would sit with he and she would complain to me.  She respected m
intelligence, you see.  She never spoke down to me th way mothers often
speak down to their children.  Afte a while, if he didn't show up when
he was supposed to she would go off by herself.  It was his fault,
don't yo see?"

"He was occupied too much with his business," said, hoping to make a
point about him, but Malcoh either didn't hear me or didn't see the
relationship t himself.

"Yes, yes, but he was often careless with busine;

meetings too.  He just doesn't have the concentratio( He gets bored too
easily.  I can't tell you how mag deals we lost because of him and how
many I saved,."

"Was your mother involved with the business?"

"| "What?"  He looked at me as though I had just ma| the most
ridiculous statement.

"Hardly.  She thouj|| the stock market was a place to buy and sell
stocking^ "Oh, come now.  You exaggerate."

"Do I?  She had no concept of what a dollar w Why, when she went
shopping, she never asked ab the price; she never cared.  She bought
things witBi knowing how much she had spent and my father ' my father
never chastised her for it, never put her j budget.  Hopefully," he
added, "things will be dine with this wife."

"Where did your father meet your mother?"  I asf "He saw her crossing
astre et in CharlottesviJ stopped his carriage, and began a
conversation if her.  Without even knowing her family background!^
invited him to her home that night.  Wouldn't thaf|l you something? 
How impulsive a person she Would you have ever done such a thing? 
Well?"  he asked when I hesitated.

I tried to imagine it.  It was romantic a handsome young man stops his
carriage to start a conversation with a young woman, a total stranger,
and their conversation is so good that she is moved to invite him to
her home.

"She didn't know of him?"

"No.  She was visiting an aunt in Charlottesville.  She wasn't from
this area and never heard of the Foxworths."

"I suppose he was impressive."

"You would have invited him to your home?"

"No, not right away," I said, but something within me wanted to say I
would, wished such a thing to have happened to me, but I knew what
Malcolm was driving at, what was right and proper.

"See what I am saying?  He should have been able to perceive the kind
of woman she was immediately."

"How long did they court?"

He smirked.

"Not long enough," he said.

"But Malcolm, you and I must have bad an even shorter courting
period."

"It wasn't the same thing.  I knew what kind of woman you were; I
didn't need endless examples to demonstrate and support my view.  He
was blinded from the beginning and rushed right into a proposal.

He once confessed to me that be suspected her aunt had brought her to
Chariottesvule for the sole purpose of meeting a distinguished
gentleman.  The guile of women!  It wouldn't have surprised me to learn
that she had planned crossing that street at just that time, knowing he
was coming.  He said she smiled up at h so warmly, he had to stop the
carriage."

"I can't believe that."

"I do.  Women like that are always conniving.  Tl look so simple, so
unassuming, so sweet, but they plotting, believe me.  And some men, men
like i father, always fall for that type."

"Is that what his new bride is like?"  He did respond.

"Well, is she?"

"I can't see why not," he said, and folded his pa noisily.

I was about to respond, when Lucas came to < nounce that their car had
driven up.

"Go help with the trunks and luggage," I said stood up, but Malcolm Sat
staring.

"Well?"

He shook his head to shake away a thought a followed me to the front
door as Garland and a you woman who could have been his daughter
stepped ( of their car.  He held her in such a way that I suddei
realized that this child woman was his bride!  My ent being was shaken.
Why hadn't Malcolm told me' turned to stare at him accusingly, but the
face I saw v hardly recognizable as Malcolm's, so contorted was with
shock.

"My God," Malcolm said, "she's pregnant!"  I kill what his concerns
were---another heir.  His face m bright purple and he clenched his
hands into nil "She's pregnant!"  he repeated as if to confirm it 1
himself.  K Indeed she was.  The otherwise delicate, slender, a
fresh-looking young lady with bright chestnut K looked to me to be in
her final months.  Garland saw;

in the doorway and waved vigorously, taking Alicia" the elbow to lead
her on.  ;

Garden of Shadows He didn't look as though he had aged much since he
had begun his journey.  I had photographs with which to judge.  If
anything, taking such a prolonged trip and marrying so beautiful a
young woman had made him look younger.  I saw a great many physical
resemblances between him and Malcolm, of course, but there was a
lightness to Garland's step and a warmth in his smile that Malcolm
lacked.

Garland was nearly the same height and had the same broad shoulders. He
looked fit, vigorous, energetic.

It didn't surprise me that such a young girl would be attracted to him.
He looked rather dapper in his light sport jacket and tan trousers.

And his wife was positively radiant.  She moved lightly, gracefully,
toward us for an introduction.

She had large blue eyes and one of those peaches and-cream complexions
usually found only in magazines.

She had a soft, gentle mouth and a Small, slightly turned-up nose.  I
was immediately envious of her delicate, feminine features.  Her hands
were so small and her neck so smooth and graceful.  In many ways she
reminded me of Corinne, Malcolm's mother, and I understood why Gariand
Poxwbrth would have pursued her and taken her for his second wife. When
he had first seen her, he probably envisioned Corinne the way she was
when he had first set his eyes on her crossing that street in
ChariottesviHe.

I turned quickly to Malcolm to see his reaction to her.  His eyes grew
small, his gaze intense.  Although he had prepared himself to be stern
and coldly formal when they arrived, I saw his face softening.  What
kind of a woman had he expected?  I wondered.  Or was she what he had
expected and that was why he looked so affected.

"Malcolm, you look absolutely ... older," his ther said, and laughed.

"Alicia, this is your steps Malcolm, your stepmother, Alicia."

Malcolm looked at his father.  I saw the cold sin come into his face.

"Mother?  Welcome, Mother," he said, and extenc his hand.  Alicia
smiled and took it but let go aim immediately and turned to me, as did
Garland.

"This," Malcolm said, pronouncing his words sha ly.  Slowly, "is Mrs.
Fbxworth, Mrs.  Malcolm N Foxworth.  Olivia," he said.

"Well, well.  How do you do, Olivia," Garland sa Coldness filled my
chest.  I could tell from the look Garland's face that Malcolm had
never written him tell him he had gotten married.  Which meant, he did
even know he had two grandchildren!

"Why didn't you tell me?"  Alicia asked Garland.  S had such an
innocent, simple way about her.  Garlai knowing his son well, would
rather have ignored t embarrassing moment.  I could sense that.  Later
on, private, be might discuss it with him and voice , unhappiness about
such a surprise, "Garland?"  ;

"Simply because I didn't know, my love," he sa staring at Malcolm.  I
could see that self-satisfied i pressipn around Malcolm's eyes, the
expression usually took on when he had gotten the better.

someone.

"How long have you two been married?"

"Well over three years," Malcolm said.

, "We have two children," I saidy impatient with: t way Malcolm was
stalling them in front of the hoc and rationing the news.

"Both boys.";

"Both boys?  Well, what do you know.  "Alicia, you' a grandmother
before you are a mother.  Boys!"  I Alicia smiled warmly as Garland
embraced her, pressing her to him with such force, I thought he might
endanger the pregnancy.  She was so fragile-looking.

"Well, let's get on with this homecoming," Garland said, moving
forward.  Malcolm stepped aside and I accompanied them into the
house.

"I see there have been some changes made," Garland said.  He was
referring to some of the things I had done to warm up the foyer the
addition of' some new, brighter landscapes and pictures of other
country-type scenes, and some colorful rugs.

"All good things," he added for my benefit, winking as he said so.

I couldn't help but like him.  He was so bright and happy.  There was a
positive energy around him that was contagious.  Alida beamed.

"It's everything you promised it would be," she said, and she kissed
him on the cheek, but the kiss was so much more affectionate than the
kisses Malcolm gave me that I was envious.  It was nearly passionate.

"Your suite is in the South wing, next to Olivia's," Malcolm said,
sounding more like the manager of a hotel than a son welcoming his
father and his father's new bride home.

"It's the one you requested."

"Good.  Well, let us get settled in and then I want to see my
grandsons, eh, Alida?"  :

"Oh, yes, Ican't wait," "And dinner.  We're both absolutely famished.
The food on these trains leaves much to be desired.  Have you done much
traveling, Olivia?"  he asked me.

"Or is Malcolm keeping you a prisoner in Pbxworth HaB?"

"Well, I haven't really done much traveling, no, but we traveled on the
train right after we were married."

"She's from New London, Connecticut," Malcolm Garden of Shadows
said.

"Her maiden name isWinfteld.  Her father the shipping industry
unfortunately he passed recently " "Oh, a Yankee, eh?"  Garland said.

"Alkaa's Richmond, Virginia, so let's not have the war bet the states,"
he added, and laughed vigorously.

colm, standing behind me, scowled, but AUcia si at me.

"You'll.find no fight in me," she said, squeezin hand.  I must say I
was taken with her warmth an gregarious ways.  She was as uninhibited
as a four old  Although I told myself it was

Garden of Shadows She nodded and he looked about.

"Are these all the servants?"

"Olsen is in the gardens, working," I said.

"You may resume your duties," I told the maids, and they quickly left.
Garland lowered his chin to his chest and peered at Malcolm.

"Are we pressed to economize?"  he asked.  ;

"Of course not," Malcolm said.

"We're just practicing good economic behavior.  What you dp at home
carries over to what you dp in business."

"I see.  Well, with the addition of another child and the two of us,
we'll have to look into additional help, eh, Alicia?"  he said.

"Whatever you say, my da rUng  , , I saw Malcolm grimace as if in
pain.

"Onward and upward," Oarland announced, and led his bride up the dual
staircase, pointing things put to her as she giggled and exclaimed her
admiration.

Malcolm and I remained below, looking up at them, I felt as if a wild
but warm wind had come crashing through the front doors of Fpxwprth
Hall, awakening things that had been asleep for two centuries.  It was
all ; quite breathtaking.

; "Nowyou see how ridiculous he is," Malcolm muttered.

"Can you understand why I feel Ac way I do ^ about him?"

I "Why didn't you ever write him about our marriage I or about the
birth of the children (demanded.

| "I didn't think it necessary," he said.  ;

| "Not necessary?"  " - ---- ^.^ - ::.."

1 "No, not necessary.  And as for her *..  reiaember, I you were here
first and you are oldef.  "You treatae^ like | a child, and never give
the servants the chance to take any orders but yours," he commanded.

Garden of Shadows "But what if it's something Garland wants?"  I asked
He didn't respond.  He muttered something unintelligible under his
breath and went back to the salon supposedly to finish reading his
paper before dinner.

I went up to the boys to dress them for their firs meeting with their
grandfather and their step grandmother.

Garland couldn't understand why Malcolm wouli not permit the boys to
sit with us at the dinner table.  A first Malcolm did not want to
discuss it, but Gariand' insistence finally brought a response.

"Because, Father, what they do is not pleasing to th appetite."

"Ridiculous.  That's the way children are.  It's the wa:

you were," he said.  Malcolm's face became bloodred but his lips
whitened so much, they were nearly indistinguishable from his teeth.

"He was," Garland toll Alicia.

"He was enough to tire out any woman.  He wa always asking endless
questions.  His mother couldn' ten him to do anything without his
questioning why Sometimes I would come home and find her in ai absolute
dither because of him.  I remember her rushinj through the house and
Malcolm trailing after her wanting to know this or that.  She was in
flight from him.  He exhausted her," he repeated.  "And sent her
packing?"  Malcolm asked through hi teeth.

"We had twice the number of servants then including a full-time
nanny."

"All needed because of him," Garland responded refusing to be goaded
into an argument.  Alicia smile softly and Malcolm's face relaxed.."

Garland had insisted that his and Alicia's settings tx placed together
on die left side of the table.  Malcola Garden of Shadows was going to
give up the head of the table to him, but Garland wouldn't hear of
it.

"We're still on our honeymoon," he said, "and besides, we could never
sit as far apart as you two sit, could we, Alicia?"

"Oh, no.  Everywhere we went in Europe, Garland insisted we be placed
right beside each other.  He was an absolute tyrant when it came to
that."

"I imagine he was," Malcolm said, but in a much softer tone of voice.

"Your father never stopped entertaining me and whoever was with us.  We
often joined other American tourists," she explained.  She had a soft,
melodic voice, like dark honey.

"And he was always embarrassing me," she added, turning to me.  Her
smile was friendly, sincere.  I nodded and smiled.  Malcolm was staring
at her as if she were some new Spedes, when indeed I thought she was a
great deal like some of the younger women who had come to my
reception.

"But tell them the truth, AUcia.  You loved every minute of it,"
Garland said.

"Of course I did.  I was with you," she said.  They kissed on the lips,
actually kissed each other right there at the dinner table as if we
weren't present, as if the servants weren't moving in and out.  When I
looked at Malcolm, expecting his expression of disdain I'saw a look of
envy on his face.  I thought there was even a smile around his eyes. It
faded when he turned tome.

"We're going to have to tell you it all, you know," Garland said, more
to me than to Malcolm.

"We'll bore you to death day in and day out with the endless details
and pictures, but that's what you get for marrying Garland Fbxworth's
son," he added, and laughed.

Ill Garden of Shadows "You don't have to listen to any of it if you
don't wi to," Alicia interjected.

"But we do want to listen," Malcolm said to her."

you'll be the one who tells it.  That is, if my father w let you tell
it without interrupting continually."

"I won't speak unless need be," Garland sai "That's a promise," he
added, raising his right hand "Don't believe him," Alida said.  Malcolm
smile Actually, he almost laughed.  As the dinner continuec saw Malcolm
soften more and more until he w keeping up a continuous flow of
conversation wi Alida.  Their exchange didn't include me.  It was as il
were Sitting at a separate table, eating by myself.  Tl girl was like a
talking travelogue, and Malcolm, wl had done some traveling himself,
seemed entrance Garland ate voradously.

"Your children are adorable," Alida told Malcoli "I can see the
Fbxworth blood in them."

"Mal shows it more," Malcolm said.

"That's only because Joel is still so young.  Oh, I cai wait for our
baby to be bornI" she said, clapping h hands.  She bounced on the seat.
I was quite astonish at her dinner etiquette.  She talked with food in
h mouth; she fluttered about like a bird in her seat, ai she drank the
dinner wine as though it were wate Malcolm was being extraordinarily
tolerant this ev ning.  I imagined it was because this was our first
dinn together.

"Just how far along are you in your pregnancyi Malcolm asked.

"I'm just at the start of the eighth month."

"No time to waste," Garlandsaid.

"Not at my age he added with a laugh, s "You don't waste any time, any
time at aH," Atie Garden of Shadows said.  They looked at each other
so passionately, it actually brought a flush to my cheeks.  They kissed
again.  In fact, they punctuated almost every sentence they spoke to
each other with a kiss.

Malcolm seemed to move from moments of annoyance to moments of genuine
pleasure.  When Alida turned her full attention to him, he was
entranced.

Once, she reached across the table and touched his wrist,!  saw him
blush, but he didn't move his hand away.

It was Garland's idea that we all take coffee on the veranda.

"Alfresco," he said, making a grand gesture.  He put a napkin on his
arm like a waiter and stood up, holding his other arm out for Alida.

"We had such a good time in Italy," Alicia said.

When Malcolm rose, Alida put one arm in the crook of his and the. other
in Garland's.  I was amazed at how Malcolm permitted it.  With her
between them, they started for the veranda.

By the time I joined them outside, they were all laughing at Alida's
description of a ride in a gondola in Venice.  She was standing up and
imitating Garland.

"

"Sit down please, sir," the gondolier pleaded," she said, lowering her
voice dramatically.

"But your father had had a great deal of wjne and he thought he could
walk a tightrope.

"No problem," he said.  Til be the navigator."  The other passerigers
were in a state of shock.  The gondolier pleaded again and then the
gondola began to rock."  She rocked back and forth on her heels.

"And then, what do you think?"  she Said.

"Garland .. She laughed and Garland laughed at the memory.

"Garland fell over the side," she said, and then fell toward Malcolm,
who reached up quickly to Garden of Shadows "You don't have to listen
to any of it if you don't wish to," Alicia interjected.

"But we do want to listen," Malcolm said to her.

"If you'll be the one who tells it.  That is, if my father will let you
tell it without interrupting continually."

"I won't speak unless need be," Garland said.

"That's a promise," he added, raising his right hand.

"Don't believe him," Alida said.  Malcolm smiled.

Actually, he almost laughed.  As the dinner continued I saw Malcolm
soften more and more until he wa^ keeping up a continuous flow of
conversation with Alida.  Their exchange didn't include me.  It was as
if I were sitting at a separate table, eating by myself.  The girl was
like a talking travelogue, and Malcolm, who had done some traveling
himself, seemed entranced, Garland ate voradously.

"Your children are adorable," Alida told Malcolm, "I can see the
Foxworth blood in them."

"Mal shows it more," Malcolm said.

"That's only because Joel is still so young.  Oh, I can't wait for our
baby to be bornI" she said, clapping her hands.  She bounced on the
Seat  I was quite astonished;

at her dinner etiquette.  She talked with food in he^ mouth; she
fluttered about like a bird in her seat, and she drank the dinner wine
as though it were watery Malcolm was being extraordinarily tolerant
this evening  I imagined it was because this was our first dinner
together, Al "Just how far along are you in your pregnancy?"?) Malcolm
asked.  S "I'm just at the start of the eighth month."  )| "No tune to
waste," Garland said.

"Not at my age,"N be added with a laugh.  <| "Yousdpift waste any time,
any time at aH," Auda3

112 I

Garden of Shadows said.  They looked at each other so passionately, it
actually brought a flush to my cheeks.  They kissed again.  In fact,
they punctuated almost every sentence they spoke to each other with a
kiss..

Malcolm seemed to move from moments of annoyance to moments of genuine
pleasure..  When Alicia turned her fall attention to him, he was
entranced.

Once, she reached across the table and touched his wrist.  I saw him
blush, but he didn't move his hand away... ^ /,."  , , ..... , .."
...;,..

It was Garland's idea that we all take coffee on the veranda..

"Alfresco," he said, making a grand gesture.  He put a napkin on his
arm like a waiter and stood up, holding his other arm out for
Aliicia.

"We had such a good time in Italy," Aliaa said.

When Malcolm rose, Alida put one arm in the crook of his and the. other
in Garland's.  I was amazed at how Malcolm permitted it.  With her
between them, they started for the veranda.

By the time I joined them outside, they were all laughing at Alida's
description of a ride in a gondola in Venice.  She was standing up and
imitating Garland.

"

"Sit down please, sir," the gondolier pleaded," she said, lowering her
voice dramatically.

"But your father had had a great deal of wine and he thought he could
walk a tightrope.

"No problem," he said,"I'll be the navigator."  The other passengers
were in a state of shock.  The gondolier pleaded again and then the
gondola began to rock."  She rocked back and forth on her heels.

"And then, what do you think?"  she said.

"Garland .. ."  She laughed and Gariand laughed at the memory.

"Garland fell over the side," she said, and then fell toward Malcolm,
who reached up quickly to Garden of Shadows keep her from falling into
his lap.  Garland roared, Malcolm blushed when he saw me standing in
doorway.

"The coffee will be out in a moment," I annoum "Everyone was trying to
fish him out of the can Alicia went on, ignoring my arrival.

"But he reft their assistance, claiming he was all right.  It absolute
bedlam until he was finally pulled into gondola."  She ended by sitting
on Garland's lap putting her arm around his neck.  They kissed again
"She tells it so wonderfully," Garland said.

"So," said, turning to me, "you'll have to sit down one and tell me all
the details about your wedding, how son won your heart, what lies he
told you to <8f "

OV....

There was more laughter, which set Alida < another story about Garland
in Europe.  Before evening ended, I decided to call it Tales of Gari
Fbxworth by Alida Foxworth.  Never had I seen or e read about a woman
as devoted to a man as Alida to Garland.  She took note of every little
thing he done.  She practically worshipped the ground he wal upon.

Our evening with them ended when they confes to being tired torn all
their traveling.  Alida put head on Garland's shoulder and he embraced
around her waist.  Then the two of them, looking a like newlyweds in
their twenties than a fifty-eight-ss old man and a nineteen-year-old
pregnant girl, wad into the house and made their way up the staircas<
Malcolm, and I had said little after they left us."

light and the exdtement had left the veranda alon gi Alida.  i

"She's rather pretty," I said.

"Isshe?"

"Like a little bird flitting about your father, don't you think?"

"I'm tired," he said.

"All that chatter has given me a headache."  He left to go to his
chambers.

I took my time going up.  When I did climb the stairs, I checked on the
boys first.  Hey were fast asleep.  Their grandfather had entertained
them and I must say I thought Mal took to him rather quickly.  I
imagined that Garland would be a much better father than Malcolm had
been so far.  Garland, at least, seemed to like children.

When I passed their suite, I heard them still awake.

They were talking and giggling like two teenagers.  I hesitated,
drinking in some vicarious pleasure from their soft, happy talk.

It was the way Malcolm and I should be, I thought.  It was the way I
had dreamt we would be.  Behffld the door Garland held Alicia in his
arms.  He pressed his beautiful young bride to him and made her feel
wanted and alive.  I imagined his hand on her stomach to feel the life
within.  Never once did Malcolm show any interest in doing that. During
the final months of my pregnancies, when I carried low and heavy, he
avoided me.

Why didn't ABda's features widen and thicken the way mine had?  If you
looked at her from the bosom up, you wouldn't even know she was
pregnant.  It didn't seem fair that these slim, dainty girls never lost
their feminine charm.

I walked on.  My envy made me sad, not angry.  My bedroom was right
beside theirs, and the wall by my Garden of Shadows (haing table was
thinner than my other walls.  II stad by it and pressed my ear to it, I
could hear the ahxt as well as if I were in their room.

"She's exactly what I thought Malcolm woi --y," Garland said.

"Sic's so tall," Alicia said.

"I feel sorry for her bei a if."

Ifeel sorry for her being married to Malcolm," a* : ..

"Oh, Garland."

"tot he never understood women.  He never rca lal a girlfriend, you
know."

"fcorsoul."

"fcor?  That's one thing he's not, nor are you, i dtAg," he said. There
was a silence that I knew w QU with a kiss.

"I was rich the first day you came into our house she told him.  And
then they were quiet.

1 vent into my own bed, alone, wondering ho world compete with such a
beautiful and innoce crature.  Every time she spoke it would emphasize
i silace; every tune she laughed, it would emphasize i sadaess; and
every time Malcolm looked at her, would remind me of all the times he
avoided looking me.  Her smallness made my size greater.  :

I hated her, or at least I wanted to hate her.

Aad yet, how difficult it was to harden my her agaost her simply
because she had everything I want foriayself.

Aficia appeared the next morning with the sal energy and bubbly
demeanor.  If anything, she seem to open to the day the way a beautiful
yellow gar des

Garden of Shadows might greet the sunlight.  Never was our breakfast
as lively.  Garland said they had slept like babies.

"Which proves how important it is for a man to return home," he said.

"To our home," he added, looking at Alicia.  Her rich chestnut hair was
pinned up, rather like mine, but hers was glossy and revealed her small
ears and soft white neck.  I could tell that Malcolm was fascinated
with her.  I imagined that like me, he had expected them to be somewhat
subdued--the early morning hour, their journey catching up with them.
But they looked totally revived.  Garland must have been right about
the importance of home.

He insisted on accompanying Malcolm to the offices and getting right
back into the swing of things.

"I know I have a great deal to catch up on.  Malcolm never was one to
let grass grow under his feet," he added, explaining to Alicia.

"My son might be many things, but one thing be is for sure and that is
a financial genius."

"That's what he kept saying about you, Malcolm," Alicia said.

"When I asked him how he could stay away from his business so long, he
said he had full confidence in your abilities."

I waited for Malcolm's caustic response, but he seemed speechless.  He
shrugged with an uncharacteristic modesty.

"We should be going," he said to his father.

Garland's good-bye to Alicia was so long and passionate, I was actually
embarrassed for her.  She didn't seem to mind it.  However, she saw the
expression on my face and, as soon as he left, she turned to me to
explain that it was the first time they would be separated since they
had embarked on the European jour117

they together.  Malcolm's good-bye to me had been as quick and
perfunctory as usual a slight peck on the cheek and some words about
serving dinner at the usual time.

"You must tell me how hard it has been for you to be mistress of such a
large house," Alicia said, and then quickly added, "Oh, not because I
intend to take over.

It's just that I find it... so overwhelming."

I stared at her for a moment.  I thought she waai sincere, but I
couldn't help having Malcolm's suspicions.  Who knew what things would
be like in a week" In a month?  , "I have everything pretty well
organized," I said.

"The servants have their duties well outlined and way^ day is well
planned."  , : , | "Oh I'm sure it is.  I don't want to do anything
disturb the order of things.  You'll just have to tell a whenever ^
do," "I will," I said with definite assurance, but she either didn't
hear or refused to hear any threat in my reply,!

"I don't want to step on anyone's toes," she said|| "All I want out of
life is to make my husband happy^ Garland is so wonderful.  He has been
so wonderful txi| roe and my family, I can never do enough for him."  a
"What did he do for you and your family?"  I askeqj innocently.  , j|
"Garland was one of my father's oldest, best friend if Since grade
school days actually.  My father injured I back in a horseback riding
accident when he w younger and that kept ban from gaining the kind
employment he needed to support his family.  B Garland came along and
set him up in his own accougf ant's office, fora sitting job was all he
could handtf Then Garland began sending people to him.  Without his
help, I doubt we could have survived."

I had my own thoughts about altruism, believing the charity was not
given without some thoughts of profit in the future.  Had Garland
Poxworth had he eyes on this lovely girl from the very beginning?

"How old were you at the time Garland began coming to your house?"

"Oh, I remember him coming when I was about five or six.  When I was
twelve, he bought me this beautiful gold bracelet.  See, I still wear
it, "she said, holding out her wrist.

"Twelve?"

"Yes.  By the time I was fourteen, we were taking walks together.  I
would chatter away, holding his arm, and he would listen with a
wonderful smile on his face.

He made me feel so good.  It got so I looked forward to his coming more
than I looked forward to anything else.  He kissed me while J was still
fourteen," she whispered.

"What?  You were only fourteen?"

"Yes, and it wasn't a peck on the cheek," she added, her eyes
twinkling.  My face must have been a windowpane.

She had to see my utter astonishment.

"We kaew then, don't you see."

"No, I don't see how a man of his age and a girl of fourteen would know
then."

"It was love," she said, unabashed.

"True, unrelenting love.  He began to come to my house more and more
frequently.  We would go for carriage rides through the park, stopping
for hours to watch the birds.

We talked so much, but I couldn't tell you about what..  . our
conversation was like one long melody.

Garden of Shadows The sounds linger in my mind, not the words," she
sak smiling to herself.  I tried to envision such happiness but I had
no idea what she meant by a melody of words "I loved the horse drawn
sleigh rides whenever th Virginia winter brought pounds and pounds of
snow, she continued.

"We would bundle up in thick blanket:

clutching our hands beneath them, and ride into th wind, our faces red
from the cold, but our hearts wan with our love.  You can't imagine how
wonderful the was," she said.

"No," I said sadly, "I can't."

"In the summer there were those wonderful concen in the park.  I would
pack a picnic lunch for us and w would go off to listen to the music.
Afterward we wbul go boating and I would sing to him.  He loves me to
sin to him, even though 1 don't have a singer's voice."

"But didn't you ever think about his age?"

"No.  I thought of him as a wonderful older, but mos gentle man.  He
was always so full of spirit and happiness that age never came into
it."

"But how did you have the nerve to marry a man s much older?  I don't
mean to sound' coarse but he'll b dead before you reach middle age.
Didn't your parent object?"

"My father died a month before Garland proposed My mother was shocked
at first, and at first she wa against it.  She said the same thing you
said but wouldn't be dissuaded, and she adored Garland, yoi see. Soon
she began to realize that I really did tove hit and that the years
didn't matter."  ;

"To be honest, my dear, I'm quite surprised yoi decided on having
children, considering Garland' 'age."..  . - .  ; -, .  "

"Qh, Garland would have it no other way.  He said Garden of Shadows
Alida, when I'm with you, I'm only in my thirties."

And he looks like a man in his thirties, doesn't he?

Doesn't he?"  she demanded when I hesitated.

"Yes, he looks younger than he is, but..."

"That's all that matters ... what we think," she said.  She was
positively mesmerized by, her romance.

Reality, hard, cold facts would never be permitted to destroy her
rose-colored world.  She lived in the world of my glass-encased
dollhouse.  Of course, I pitied her for that, realizing reality would
have its way eventually;

but I also envied her for her happiness.

"Let me go with you.  I'd love to watch you with your children. They're
adorable.  And I'm sure I could probably learn things from what you
do," she added.

"I'm hardly an expert at rearing children," I said, but I saw how
disappointed she would be if I turned her down, so I let her accompany
me.

The children did like her, especially Joel.  She brought a smile to his
face and he enjoyed being held by her.  In away she got down to their
level far better than I ever could.  Before long she was playing with
MaFs toys with him and Joel was quietly watching the two of them.  :

"Feel free to do anything you want," she said.

"I

don't mind staying with them."

"You've got to be more careful at your stage of pregnancy," I told her,
and then I thought, wouldn't Malcolm love to see her have a
miscarriage.

The thought lingered in my mind, clinging to my thoughts like a burr
caught on my skirt.  I couldn't shake it off, and the more I envisioned
her having a miscarriage, the happier it ma deme feel.

I couldn't help being afraid of the child she would have, but not for
the same-reasons as Malcolm.  I didn't Garden of Shadows have his
greed about money, knowing we had an would always have more than we
would ever need.

feared that her child would be far more beautiful that my children.
After all.  Garland was the father and h was just as handsome, if not
more so, than Malcolm and she was so much more beautiful than I could
eve hope to be.

So I fantasized her starting down the Spiral staircase tripping and
falling down the Steps the accident resulting in an immediate
miscarriage.  She was too trustiri to see these images in my face
whenever I looked i her.

All day long, whenever she saw me, she was fillea with
questions--questions about fbxworth Hall, que| tioos about the Children
questions about the servant and questions about Malcolm.  , "What is he
really like?"  she wanted to kno| "Garland can exaggerate so."

"It's better that you find out for yourself," I repuifi "Never ask a
wife what her husband is like--you wq;

get an honest answer."

"Oh.  How right you are," she said.  It seemed I on, do nothing to
upset her.

"You are wise, Olivia.  I'mi lucky to have you here."  : ;

I stared at her.  She meant it, the foolish girl.  ^| there no
suspicion in her?  Was she satisfied be^J treated like another child in
this house?  ,^ 1 expected, as time wore on, that she and Garl^ would
cool down, that some of the gloom of Foxwo|| Hall would get to her,
that as her pregnancy moved ia|l the ninth month, she would be burdened
and irritaq But none of_ that happened.  Our meals were just^j
boisterous as that first day Garland and Alida arrN^ Every evening
Alicia insisted that Garland tell her about his business day in
detail.

"You must never think I'll be bored by it' she said, "because it's your
work and whatever involves you, involves me."

Such gibberish, I thought.  She win never understand the details of
business.

"WeB, today I went over Malcolm's investment in two hotels in Chicago.
He has an idea about catering to businessmen, making the rates more
attractive for them."

"What do you call it, Malcolm?"

"Call it?"

"Tie special rates?"

"Business rates," he said dryly, "Why, of course.  How silly of me to
ask.  It's such a delightful idea," she said.  Delightful?  I thought.
I waited for Malcolm to explode, but his tolerance grew every day.

A number of times I was tempted to tell him about my fantasizing
Alicia's miscarriage.  I wanted to see how he would greet such a
possibility, but the closest I came to saying it was when I told him I
thought she was far too active and wild for a woman in her ninth
month.

"She's running up and down the stairs, holding her stomach as though
she had a balloon under her dress.

Sometimes she's outside with Olsen talking to him about flowers, and
occasionally I see her diggings alongside him.  I saw her lift a large
potted plant yesterday.  I wanted to warn her, but I didn't.  She
insists on carrying Joel up to the nursery, and if I merely mention
something, she's up after it, no matter how heavy or bulky it might
be."

Garden of Shadows "It's none of your affair," he told me, and wal away
before I could discuss it any further.  Perhap was.  unable to see the
possibility or perhaps he had t so charmed by her innocent beauty, he
was blind to own interests.

One lay, two weeks into her ninth month, A asked me about the attic.

"It's rather an interesting place," I said.  I bega describe it and
then stopped, "But really, it'sso thing you'll have to see for
yourself," I said.  I thoi about her Walking up those shaky little
steps wandering through the huge attic, things strewn ab presenting the
possibility of her tripping and fallin "I was tempted to go through
those double doors go up the stairs."

"Oh, there's another way up," I said.

"A se way."  ' "Really*?"  She was intrigued.

"Where?"

"It's through a doorway in a closet in the room at end of the north
wing."

"My goodness, a doorway in a Closet.  Do you waf go up with me?"

"I've been there," I said.

"I'll show you the way you can amuse yourself going through the old
thin| "Oh'Td love it," she said, so I led her down3 north wing to the
end room; She was fascinated by room.

"It's like a hideaway," she said.

-Yes."-- .  ^"I  ^ / ."-" - - i ; "This ha use is so exciting, so
mysterious.  I must Garland about this room."" aa "Do that," I said.

"And tell me what he say!

added.- , .  : .-- - ^ .. I;..- ."  : ..1.; .: 1 I showed her the
closet doorway... | "Now you must be careful," I said when she lod 124
;

Garden of Shadows back at me.

"There's a cord Just above the first step.

Pull it and it will light the stairway."

She did, but it didn't turn on the bulb.  I had unscrewed it earlier.

"Must be blown," I said.

"Forget about it."

"No, that's all right.  I can see fine."

"Remember," I said.

"I told you not to go."

"Don't be an old fuddy-duddy, Olivia.  It's nothing."

"Go on, then," I said.

"I'll be down in the front salon, reading."

She started up and I closed the door behind her.  I heard her gasp and
then laugh.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  The dark, the
darkness, those creaky steps and floorboards---all presented a terrible
danger to a woman dose to her delivery date.  What a trusting young
fool she was, I thought, and turned away.  If anything happened to her,
I would be too faraway to be of any help.  I had warned her.  No one
could blame me.

I rushed out of the room and down the north wing.  I settled myself in
the salon^ and began reading, just as I told her I would.  Itwas
difficult for me to concentrate on anything.  Every once in a while I
looked up at the ceiling and imagined her tripping and falling, perhaps
banging her head against one of those trunks or armoires, and lying
there in the throes of a miscarriage.

Afterward, when I told Malcolm how it had happened, he would thank me.
Not in so many words, perhaps; but the thanks would be there.  And
maybe she wouldn't go flitting through this house bringing smiles to
everyone's face.  Maybe the miscarriage would affect her beauty, and
darkness would cloak her eyes, Despair would wash the radiant colors
from her face forever.  Herwifee would change and deepen, losing its
1^5 Garden of Shadows melodious tones.  Malcolm would no longer be
chanted by her chatter and wheedling charms.  we all sat around the
dinner table and she spot would be as if we had no ears to hear.

I didn't realize how much time had passed, but Garland and Malcolm
arrived home, she was stil down.  Of course.  Garland inquired about
her.

"Oh, dear," I said.

"I've been sitting here entra with this book.  She went up to the attic
a while a "The attic?  Whatever for?"

"To explore.  She was bored."

"The attic?"  Garland repeated.  His face to dark.

"She shouldn't be up there."

"I fold her that, but she positively insisted.  She c me an old
fuddy-duddy for warning her against it went up anyway."

He rushed out and up the winding staircase.  Mali stood in the doorway
watching him and then turn me.  Never did I see such a cold look in his
eyes.  It an odd look, a mixture of fear and anger, I thougl was as if
he had just discovered something about that he had never before
realized.

"Perhaps you should go along with him and s anything happened," I said.
Suddenly a wry smile < to his face and he turned and left me.

Not long afterward I heard Garland's voice a went out to the foyer.

"Is everything all right?"  I asked.  He was nun on toward the south
wing..,;

"What?  Oh, yes.  Can you imagine?  I found standing before: the dusty
mirror, trying on Corn old dresses.  I must say, she did them justice."
,.

Malcolm appeared behind me as though he had i waiting in the wings.  I
could see that he was b| 126 | Garden of Shadows with rage, and yet...
yet... I saw that faraway look in his eye, a look, that if I didn't
know better, F would have called love.

Two weeks later, almost to the day, Alida gave birth.  Dr.  Braxten was
there to deliver the child.

Malcolm and I waited in the foyer.  Garland came to the rotunda and
shouted down to us.

"It's a boy!  A boy!  And Alicia is just fine!  Why, she's ready to go
dancing."

"That's wonderful," I said.  He clasped his hands together and raised
them in the air before returning to their suite.  Malcolm said nothing,
but when I turned to him, I saw the rage in his face.

"I was praying if a child had to be born, it would be a girl," he
said.

"What difference does it make now?  Come, let's see the child."

He hesitated, so I started up without him.  The new baby, when I first
saw him cradled in his mother's arms, did take my breath away.  He had
my sons' blond hair and blue eyes, but this infant radiated a quiet and
a beautiful peace such as I had never seen in a child.  He looked
directly at everyone with clear, understanding eyes--and I knew
newborns just didn't do that.

"Isn't he beautiful?"  whispered Alida,snuggling him protectively
closer against her side.

"I'm going to name him Christopher Garland for his father."

Garland stood by, looking as proud as any young papa.  At that moment I
thought he did look twenty years younger.  Were they a magical couple?
Could they turn back time?  Had they found the Fountain of Youth, or
was this what true love could do for people?  Never was I as envious
and as jealous of anyone as I was of Garden of Shadows Alicia that
moment.  She had everything beauty, loving and adoring husband, and now
a beautiful chi "Congratulations, Father," Malcolm said, appeari in the
doorway.

"Thank you, Malcolm.  Come on in and take a cla look at your
stepbrother."

Malcolm stood beside me and looked down at Alii and the child.

"Good-looking.  A true Foxworth," he said.

"You betcha," Garland said.

"We'll be handing t cigars out tomorrow, eh, son?"

"Yes, we will," he said.

"You did it.  Father."

"Oh, I don't know if he did it alone," Alicia said;

even made me laugh.  Malcolm's face reddened.  I "Well, I meant... I...
of course, congratu tions, Alicia," he said, and knelt down to brush a
k across her cheek.  From the way he closed his ey knew he wanted that
kiss to last longer.

What a hypocrite he could be, I thought.  I kne hated that baby, and
yet he could mouth all the words, and do all the correct things.

He stood up quickly and backed away from the" Well I'd better let you
rest," he said.  He and, the room.  Garland had hired a nurse for the
first weeks, something Malcolm had not thought of d for me.  We joined
Dr.  Braxten in the hallway, pfflU ing to leave.  ;

"So, Malcolm," he said, "you can be proud of father, eh?"  , "Yes,"
Malcolm said dryly..

"Looks like I was wrong," Dr.  Braxten addedf "Pardon?"

"There was to be another Foxworth Foxworth Hall after all, eh?"  he
said.

For a moment Malcolm didn't respond, His lips whitened and he looked
toward me.

"Yes, Doctor," he said, "you were wrong."

He followed the doctor down the staircase.  Their footsteps sounded
like thunder, the thunder that comes to warn us of an impending
storm.

Days of Passion after THE BIRTH OF christopher, garland BEGAT spend a
great deal more time at home.  Male claimed he was happy to have his
father out of his at the office.

"He doesn't understand the intricacies of higl nance and I have to
spend too much time explaii things to him.  He annoys everyone with his
questiol he said.

"It's better that he behaves more like a ret man.  I wish he would
officially retire," he added.

Garland never did anything intentionally to u] me, but it was upsetting
for me to have him arouni much because I was forced to witness his and
Alk love.

He hovered about Alicia, watching her feed baby, and then he took them
both for walks or for st rides.  Occasionally, they asked me to
accompany th but I always refused.  The few times I caught reflection
and Alicia's in a mirror, I thought I loo more like her mother than the
wife of her step so found it ridiculous to think of her as a
mother-in-to 130 i Garden of Shadows knew it would just be too
uncomfortable for me to go anywhere with Garland and her, unless
Malcolm were with us too.  And then something more disturbing began to
take place.

Less than two months after Christopher's birth, Garland and Alicia
began going up to their suite in the middle of the afternoon.  At first
I didn't understand their eagerness to do So.  They would come in from
a walk looking somewhat flustered, always clinging so closely to each
other, forever kissing and embracing.

Sometimes they walked past me as though I weren't even there.

With his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist, they
would practically run up the spiral staircase and disappear into their
suite for most of the afternoon.  The maids and Lucas would smile slyly
at one another when they saw them gallivanting up the stairs.  On a
number of occasions I overheard them talking about Gariand^and his
young bride.  Once, I was just about to go into the kitchen, when I
stopped at the partially opened doorway because I heard Mrs.  Steiner
talking to Mrs.  Wilson.

"It's remarkable," Mrs.  Steiner said, "how they are always at it.  I
can't get into that bedroom to clean!"

"In the beginning it was like that with the first Mrs.

Poxworth too," Mrs.  Wilson said.

"Such a contrast between the elder Mr.  Foxworth and his bride and
Malcolm Foxworth and Olivia," Mrs.

Steiner said.

"I can't recall them ever showing affection for each other so
openly."

"Affection for each other?"  Mrs.  Wilson said.

"Olivia is so cold.  Those gray eyes of hers are like two granite
slivers.  I'm so happy the boys have his eyes."  ."-- .  :; :. ;" " ;

Garden of Shadows "Yes.  Whenever Alieia is in a room, there is s
light and happiness, even if Olivia is in the same ro< Alicia's
brightness is too strong for Olivia's do face," Mrs.  Wilson said.

"I wish she were the i mistress of Foxworth Hall, as she should be. She
is too sweet to exert her authority."

"It would be as different as night and day, would it?  One has a
constant smile on her face, and the of has only a scowl, no matter how
hard I work.  She 1 Mary to dust after me in the foyer yesterday."

"When a woman is unhappy in love, she takes it on whoever is around,"
Mrs.  Wilson said.

"Which is why I wish Alieia were the true mis tres Foxworth Hall."

I stepped away from the door, my heart beating hard and my rage so
strong, I was afraid what I we do if I heard any more.  Was Alieia
conniving to over the servants?  She would never criticize any them.
She was making me out to be the ogre.  And tl obscene passion for each
other was something servants admired?  Where was decency?  Where
self-respect?  How could they be so loving and 1 blooded anyway?  I
wondered.  Was it real or jus show?

One day, intrigued with their passion and en erg followed them up the
spiral staircase.  I went into room and placed my ear to the wall by my
dress table.  What I heard brought the blood to my cheel Their kisses
were one thing, but the sounds Garland's moaning in passionate ecstasy
and Alic little cries were overwhelming.  I heard them in ti bed and I
knew exactly when Alieia was experienc the climax of her lovemaking, or
should I say climaxes, for she cried oat toudly each time, and Garden
of Shadows time Garland said things like, "Oh, my love, my love.

It's good, is it not?  I'm far from an old man Sometimes they would
grow very quiet afterward and I would think they were both asleep, but
soon I would hear her pleas for more and their passion would begin
again.  Then I would lie in my own bed and try to imagine what it would
be like if Malcolm made love to me the way his father made love to his
bride.  Never did I feel the need to cry out the way she did and never
did Malcolm say the things to me that Garland said to her when she was
in his embrace.

Their lovemaking, whether it be night or day, was > soon something to
which I looked forward.  Listening to I them, imagining them in bed
together, I could find far I more excitement than I could in reading my
novels.

I One day I listened to them talking in the dining room I and
understood that they were going for a walk for the E express purpose of
making love by the lake.  Just I thinking about such a thing made my
heart nutter.  My | face flushed so, I had to go and dab cold water on
my cheeks.  Looking out of a window, I saw them start off toward the
path that led to the lake.  Garland carried little Christopher in his
cradle.  I watched them disappear around a corner and then I followed
them.

I felt guilty about it, but I couldn't turn myself back.

It was one thing to listen through the walls, but to actually see them
making love was too great a temptation.

They were too far ahead of me to know I was following.

There was a clearing near the dock where we kept a canoe.  By the time
I was close enough to spy on them, they had spread their blanket out
and they were lying upon it.  The baby was asleep.

Alicia's figure had retm'aed rapidly after she gave Garden of Shadows
birth.  It was impossible to look at her and know s was already a
mother.  She looked younger and me vibrant than ever.  Her bosom was
still high and 1 waist was so tiny.  She had the perfect hourglass figu
Her hair spilled down around her shoulders.  She;

in her blouse and skirt and embraced her knees ass looked out at the
lake.  Garland sat beside her, leani back on his hands.  They were like
that for the long time, and I began to feel very silly and guilty abe
spying on them.  I continually looked behind me to sure Olsen or some
other servant wasn't close enough to see what I was doing.

Suddenly Garland turned to Alida and kissed her the neck.  She dropped
her head back and closed I eyes as though that single kiss was a key
opening f doorway to her ecstasy.  I pressed my fingers against i own
neck and watched in fascination as Garia brought his lips to the bodice
of her blouse, untying t string that held it together.

He peeled the garments off her so gently and gra< fully, it was as if
they melted away.  When they we both naked and in each other's embrace,
the soot hi words between them, spoken too low for me to undi stand,
sounded like a soft religious chant, the cade nc were so regular and
continuous.  I watched them from great passion to gentle caressing, the
woi turning to laughter.

When I had seen enough, I turned to go back to t house and found myself
so short of breath and weak was afraid to take a step.  I heard the
baby's cry ai their laughter, and I took deep breaths to get control
myself.  Finally I was able to walk back to Foxwoi Hall.  l I went
directly upstairs to my bedroom and lay the Garden of Shadows for over
an hour staring up at the ceiling, recalling vividly the love scene I
had just witnessed  How much I had been cheated!  How much of what
should be every woman's was not mine and would never be mine' I felt as
if fate were pulling me through a knothole, dragging me to a destiny I
never wanted to accept.

Someday, perhaps, my portrait would be painted in dark oils and hung on
the walls of Fbxworth Hall.  With gray eyes and pale lips pressed
together so tightly they looked sewn shut, I would regard my
descendants.  My great-grandchildren would look up at me and conclude
that I was a very unhappy woman, a woman haunted by the other austere
faces of Foxworth Hall, a woman pained by her own existence.  And they
would know.

While I was still in my room, I heard Garland and Alicia return from
the lake.  They were laughing, their voices high and gay.  They both
sounded so young, I felt as if I were the stepmother and Malcolm was
Garland's father.

That night after dinner.  Garland and Malcolm had a long meeting in the
trophy room.  Alicia and I were sitting in the salon, tending the three
children.  Mat was showing Joel and Christopher his toys, explaining
each to each as though they could understand.  There must have been
Some strong filial feeling among them, because the infants were quiet,
entranced, attentive.

Alicia and I were crocheting.  She was better at it than I anticipated
she would be.  Apparently, she had learned a great deal from her mother
before she married Garland.  Alicia smiled at the children and smiled
at me.

"It's going to be wonderful for them all to grow up together," she
said.

"They'll marry beautiful, brilliant women and raise their families
here: at R>xworth Hall."

Garden of Shadows "Maybe their wives won't get along," I sail couldn't
stand her childish fantasies.  Just because was an roses for her didn't
mean it would be that for everyone.

"Oh, but they will.  I'm riot saying they wont 1 small differences.
Everyone does, but they'll Poxworths and their children will continue
the tl tions."

"We're not royalty," I said.

"Neither you nor I queens."  She looked at me a moment and then sin as
though she had to humor me.  I couldn't believe audacity that came from
such a simple mind.  I about to let her know how I felt about her smil
when finally Garland and Malcolm emerged from t tete-a-tete and they
came down to join us.

I could see from the expression on Malcolm's :

that their discussions had been intense, and I could sense that he
wanted to tell me something; s gathered Mal and Joel together, saying
that I ha take them up, and left the room.  Malcolm followed to the
nursery, something he rarely did.  He watch me put the children to
sleep.

"What is it?"  I asked finally.

"We discussed his will.  He's drawing up a new ( of course."

"Of course.  You expected he would."

"I am to get the house and the business in the en of his death;
however, Alicia and Christopher cans here as long as they want.  Alicia
is to get three mil dollars in stocks from our various investments,"i
Christopher two million, held in trust.  I will servi administrator of
their income, investing it as I set He's more dependent on me than I
had thought;^ 136 ;| Garden of Shadows "All that should make you
happy," I said.

"My father recognizes my financial abilities, something you should also
consider."

I stared at him.

"I'm not doing so badly with my own investments," I said.

"You're making a fraction of what you should."

"Nevertheless, it is I who am making it."

"Stubborn foolishness.  Is that a Winfield trait?"

"I would have thought it a Foxworth trait.  You continually tell me how
foolish your father is, and who could be more entrenched in his own
ideas than you?"

Malcolm's face reddened, but he didn't pivot and leave the room as I
had expected he would.

"I wanted you to know these details," he said, "because I want you to
tell me if you sense or learn that my father has any intention of
changing them.  Alicia tells you everything, apparently.  I'm sure
she'B be telling you about this.  I suspect she's not going to be all
that happy with the arrangements and she'll be using her charms to get
him to give her more."

"You want me to be your Spy, spy on your father and his wife?"

"Don't you?"  he asked shacply.  , My face whitened.  He smiled, a
cold, wry smile that left a layer of ice over my heart.  He didn't wait
for my response.

"It's in your own interest to do what I ask, and in the interest of the
boys," he said, and left the room without so much as a glance at the
children.  Never, since they were born, did Malcolm ever kiss the boys
goodnight.

I looked down at them.  They were both already asleep.  How good it was
that they were still too young to understand their father's words.  But
what lay ahead Garden of Shadows for them when they were older and
they would have deal with what he wanted for them and demanded them?

I sat there wishing they could remain babies f6rev<

Alicia wanted to move into the Swan Room a Garland decided they should.
She had always be fascinated by the room and the furniture and oft
asked questions about it.  I saw how nervous Maico became whenever she
brought up the room in con vi sat ion but I never thought she would
want to mo into the room that had belonged to Garland's first wil A
second wife shouldn't want to revive her husban* memories of his first
wife, but either she was inca pal of understanding this, or she didn't
care.

In any case, one evening at dinner Garland a nounced that Alida was
moving their things into t Swan Room.

"And the small swan cradle is so perfect for Christ pher," she said.

Malcolm stopped eating

"That room belonged to my mother," he said as if i one knew.

"And it still does," Garland said.

"Your new mot er," he added, embracing Alicia.

"I hardly can think of someone so much young than myself as my mother,"
Malcolm snapped, 11 neither Garland nor Alicia seemed to care.

"I don't want to change a single thing," she sal "Everything has been
kept so clean and polish anyway.  It all looks brand new."

"No one's ever slept in that room since .. . since ii mother deserted
me!"  Malcolm exclaimed.

"Well, it shouldn't be^cept like a museum," AISs, Garden of Shadows
said, and laughed.  She didn't mean it to be a cruel remark, I know;
but it cut into Malcolm like a blade through the heart.  He actually
winced in pain.

"A museum.  I like that.  A museum," Garland said.

He joined her laughter.

Afterward, Malcolm ranted and raved about the disgusting way his father
gave in to every whim and wish of Alicia's.

"He's spoiling her just the way he spoiled my mother," he told me.

"How could you know?"  I asked.  ""You were so young."

"I was a precocious child; I saw, I knew.  There wasn't a dress she saw
and wanted that she didn't get She had enough jewelry to open her own
shop.  He thought that by buying her endless things, he could keep her
happy.  I understood a great deal more than other children my age."

"I believetthat," I said.

"Your father is forever telling me how hard it was for your mother to
handle you.  You were too smart, he says.  She couldn't discipline you
because you were always finding ways to get around her punishments or
prohibitions.  You knew she didn't have the patience or tolerance for
endless discussions.  He thinks she ran away from you."

"He says that?"  He clenched his teeth.

"It was he who couldn't handle my mother.  Do you think she would have
fun off with another man if he had been the firm, strong husband he
should have bees?  Why, she even had her own personal funds," he added,
"so that she could afford to pick up and go wherever and whenever she
wanted."  He stopped abruptly and left the room as if he had said too
much.

Could this, be why he waatedL complete cont roil of my Garden of
Shadows funds as well as his own?  I Wondered.  Did he hart the same
fears in relation to me, afraid that I m4 leave him and go and do what
I wanted whenevel wanted..  . something that would be an em barra ment
to him, but even more than that, something tl would be a reminder of
what his mother was and wl his mother had done to his father?

It didn't matter what he thought about my mom nor did it matter what he
thought about what Alii wished.  The next day Alicia's things were
moved ii the Swan Room and the doors were opened.  Whene) Malcolm and I
walked past it together, he would spe up as though he could be burned
by the light spiltj from the room info the hallway.  He wouldn't look
it it.  He would act as though it no longer existed.  At le<| that was
what I thought, until one day he mad s remark that left me wondering. |
"It's disgusting what goes on in that room now,"| said, and I
understood that he either came upon room when they were making love or
he put his ca the wall in the trophy room and listened in, Coul< have
done that?  Would he have done that?  CuriA took me to the trophy room
one day when he w.

work and they were in the Swan Room.  :

Early in our marriage Malcolm had made it clei me that the trophy room
was to be his private sadj ary, a man's room in every sense of the
wordt|| matter when I walked past it or loofced-into it, it re^| of
cigar smoke.  By now (he odor was embedded H| walls, I thought.  In
some ways it reminded me '(4, father's study, but there were many
differences^ father had one stuffed deer head with antlers gNl| him as
a gift from a very satisfied Customer.  MaltiElB and Garland's trophy
room was just that--a room filled with animal trophies.

There was a tiger head and an elephant head with its trunk Uplifted.
Garland's father had killed them both on safari.  Garland had shot a
grizzly bear, an antelope, and a mountain lion on hunting trips in
western America.

Malcolm had just begun his own collection.  Two years ago he killed a
brown bear.  Now he talked about going on an African safari, as soon as
business permitted him to take that much time on".  Garland kept
telling him he could go, that he would watch after things While he was
away; but Malcolm wouldn't hear of it.

On the far wall there was a stone fireplace at least twenty feet long.
There were windows on either side, draped with black velvet curtains.
The mantel was covered with artifacts from various hunting
expeditions.

Against one wall was a dark brown leather couch and matching settee.
Facing it were two rockers and one black leather chair with a small
table beside it.

Ashtrays were everywhere.

I closed the doors softly behind me and; made my way to the wall on the
left.  On the other side of that wall Garland and Alicia lay in the
swan bed.  But when I put my ear to the wall, as!  often did now in nay
owti suite, I could barely hear their voi<As.  This wall was too
thick.

Disappointed that my suspicions weren't proving-true, I tumedaway when
Isaw a picture of Garland when he was much younger, dressed in his
safari outfit, one foot on the carcass of a tiger.  The picture was
tilted.  I moved it, intending to straighten it, and I discovered the
hole in the wall.

It wasn't very large, but it had obviously been dug out neatly with
some sharp instrument.  I brought my Garden of Shadows eye to it and
saw Garland and Alicia naked in the 9 bed.  I gasped and pulled myself
back, looking at the trophy room, terrified that I would be disco ve
How long had this hole been here?  Did Malcolm it put as soon as Alicia
moved into the Swan Room"?

bad this hole been here for years and years, peril dug out by a
five-year-old boy?

I left the picture frame the way I had found it, slipped out of the
trophy room, now feeling more lil burglar who had robbed the room of
some great sec I would never reveal to Malcolm what I had lea me
thought.  I was sure he would deny knowledge of it, what would be far
worse would be my own em barr ment in letting him know that I knew he
was interested in his father's and Alicia's lovemaking the was in our
own.

Was he so taken with his father's bride?  Did spj on them titillate him
the way it had titillated me?

questions were answered one hot summer day.

Aticia and I had finished feeding the children.  It' one of those rare
days when Garland went to offices.  Christopher was now a year and a
half old.  J was two and a half and Mal five.  It was Makol decision
that a tutor would be brought here to give b Mal and Joel their primary
education.  Hie classroor the attic that had been Malcolm's classroom
and ancestors before him 'would now be theirs.  For ' purpose he hired
an elderiy gentleman, I Chillingworth, a retired Sunday-school teacher.
1 hated him and I found him quite cold and much firm in his manner with
a five-year-old, but Mala thought he was perfect.

"Discipline is what they will need during these el years:.  It's when
they win form their study habits for rest of their lives.  Simon
Chillingworth is perfect for the task.  He was my Sunday-school
teacher," he said.

Nevertheless, every time Mr.  Chillingworth arrived to tutor Mal, Mal
resisted, sometimes clinging to my skirt and begging me to keep him
downstairs.  But Malcolm was intractable.  The only thing I could do to
ease Mal's fear was to permit Joel to go up with him, even though Joel
was too young for lessons.  Malcolm approved of Joel's attendance
because he thought the little boy would learn something just by being
present.

Mr.  Chillingworth arrived after lunch for his three and a half hours
tutorial session and Mal and Joel went up with him.  I felt sorry for
them up there in the hot attic on this particularly warm summer day,
and offered the north salon, the coolest one, to Mr.  Chillingworth.

But he wouldn't hear of it.

"There's a sufficient breeze from the dormer windows," he claimed, "and
I want the use of the blackboards and desks.  The children must learn
to cope with discomfort anyway.  It makes us stronger Christians."

I dressed the boys as lightly as I could and shook my head in pity. AH
cia was practically in tears for them.

Shevowed to say something to Malcolm that night, but I forbade her.

"I don't need you to speak for me," I said.

"And I'm not in total disagreement with Malcolm," I added.  It was a
lie, but the idea of Alicia getting Malcolm to do } something I had
wanted him to do was infuriating.

"Very well," she said, "but the poor boys."

She took Christopher up for a nap and returned shortly after, still
complaining about the heat and the stuffiness in the house; I retreated
to the cool salon to do some reading, but she was too restless and too
flushed to relax.

"Olivia," she asked, "don't you ever want to bal the lake?"

"Bathe in the lake?  No.  I don't even have a ba suit," I said, and
turned back to my book.

"We could go for a quick cool dip without suits, said..

"Without suits?  Hardly," I said, "and be sid don't have any
inclinations to do so."

"Oh.  Too bad.  Well," she said, "I think I mig hi doit."  :

"I don't want to hear about it," I said.

"It'i something a lady should do," I added.

"Fiddlesticks," she said.

"Garland and I have d Soften."  ^...- .  ;' .. , ^ I know I blanched,
for I had spied on thea^ when they had.  She didn't seem to notice myfl
Instead, she left to get some towels and head iqj

As soon as I heard the front door close, I pee^ the window to see her
hurrying off toward thl| Before she disappeared from view" however, M||
drove up.  I was surprised to see him home soca||| I knew he wasn't
above checking on Mal's tuljg| saw him looking at the disappearing
Alicia.  f||Then, to my surprise, instead of coming dire^ the house, he
followed in her direction, r summer breeze fluttered the lace curtains;
infU ing to escape the direct sunlight beat their fniilJU against the
screens.  For a moment I was mf move... , .. ; .. ."  , < <?|| Then I
rushed out of the salon and out lij door.  I moved quickly but
stealthily, the w^B when I wanted to spy on Alicia and Garland.  ^1
Malcolm intending to do?  Why had he follonj rfore I reached the lake,
I heard her voice 'and ouched down behind a large bush to peek out at
em.  / " ' Alicia was already undressed and in the water.

alcolm stood on the bank, his jacket and shirt off.

"Don't com& any closer," she warned, crossing her ms over her breasts
and keeping herself down in the iter.

"Just go on back to the house, Malcotm."

He laughed.  i .  ;

"Perhaps I should take your clothes back with me," ; said, teasing her
with a movement toward her rments.

"Don't you dare touch anything!  Go away!"

"Come now, Aliria, surely you don't enjoy being one here."

"I'm only here for a short dip to cool off.  Garland ill be home any
moment."

"No, he's doing business in Charlottesville.  Actually, I won't be home
for quite a while."

"Get away," she repeated, but he didn't move.

"I'd like to eooloff, too, and it's more fan to have unpany."

"Go and get your own wife then, and stop pursuing e."  ."

"But you can't possibly be satisfied with that old an."

"Garland is not an old man," she protested.

"In any ways he's twenty years younger than you are.  He laws how to
laugh and enjoy himself.  You know (thing about anything but making
money.  Why, you fe't even treat your own wife properly," she said.

Malcolm stared down at her, but he didn't continue undress.  Her words
had bitten him.

|?"You're just a child," he said slowly, his anger

I 145

Garden of Shadows building.

"You married my father because he and you expect him to die any day,
leaving fortune but it won't happen that way.  I prom ia "Get away from
here," she insisted.

"I don't think that's what you really want," 1 his voice softening.  He
dropped his trousers a moved farther back.

"Go away!"

"I told you; I'm hot too."

He slipped off his shorts.  Now, naked, he start the water toward
her.

"You don't want to scream," he said.

"W<

want the servants here.  Garland might not stand."

"You devil," she said.  She swam to the right went after her.

"You are so beautiful, Alida," he said.

"S

beautiful.  You should have been my wife, not 1 She didn't wait for him
to reach her.  She kic and swam toward the shore.  He started in pura
when she reached the shore, she turned on him "Leave me alone!"  she
screamed.  Herloudnes him in the water.

"Leave me alone from n< Malcolm, or you will force me to tell Garland
hi keep trying to seduce me."  .

What was she saying?  This wasn't the first ,t had tried something like
this?

"I've protected him from knowing what you do, just to give this family
some peace but no 1 I hate and despise you, Malcolm Fbxworth.  Yog half
the man your father is, not half!"  she yelte emerged from the lake and
scooped up her clot hi her towel, wrapping it about her quickly, an
headed for the bushes, fortunately not close N Garden of Shadows I
watched Malcolm.  He stared after her a moment and then he started
out.

"My mother didn't believe that," he muttered, just loud enough for me
to hear.

"She ran off easily enough with some man not worth a cent."

He went to his clothing instead of pursuing her.  She was nearly
dressed and on her way back to the house anyway.  I crouched lower in
the bushes.  I was disconsolate, so alone and betrayed, over and over.
Slowly, slowly, I sank to the ground and began to cry silently.

Where was security, truth, and honesty?  Malcolm used vs.  to fit his
purposes^ nd pursued me for my money, money he still hoped to control.
There wasn't the slightest bit of love between us.

After he dressed, he began to make his cautious way back to the house,
ever careful of his expensive clothes 'amongst the briars.  He talked
to himself as he went by me.

r "She'll pay for this day of insult, and pay dearly," he ^mumbled.

"The damned little conniving slut can't ipossibly love an old man like
my father.  She's playing 'ler game.  From now on, I'll play mine more
subtly."

it From that day on, whenever Garland was out of sight, Malcolm treated
Alida with disgust, disdain, and ^rudeness that bordered on cruelty. At
times I was pffloved to take her defense, to confront him with the
l^cene I had witnessed at the lake, but I never did.

| Despite the way she had rejected Malcolm, I was ^togry at her for
being so beautiful and tempting.  I let Phe fire bum between them
Malcolm's fire of passion ptod anger, a fire that burned and singed
her.

p Garland was either blinded with love or too skeptical j f anything
Alida told him about Malcolm, for as far as knew, he never confronted
Malcolm.  Something was happening to him anyway, I thought, as time
well He and Alicia were still passionate and loving with other, but
Garland seemed to be aging quick noticed him taking longer naps by
himself. His us voracious appetite diminished.  During their se winter
at Fbxworth Hall, he had a long, disabling that nearly became
pneumonia.

Throughout it all, Alida continually turned to m guidance.  I knew she
was trying to reach out, to ge to help her, especially with her
relationship to i colm; but I remained distant, cold, and disinter el
What I wanted to happen was beginning to hap The cheeriness went out of
her voice.  She was a bubbly and energetic.  She stopped going out witt
young girlfriends and spent more time alone, "wa for Garland to come
home or to wake from a long) avoiding Malcolm in any way she could. She
< herself busy with Christopher, who was now nearh| and a half.  In
fact, she spent a good deal of tmifij the children.  She was the one
who started Mal q| piano, much to Malcolm's displeasure.  Both Jo|| Mal
showed a natural talent for music, but MA| had the idea that musicians
were weak, effemina^ who made little money.  I I began to think that it
was her way of getting^ him teaching the boys something about musjtf|
that go on because the boys enjoyed it so muq because it annoyed
Malcolm so much.  -f For a time I was like someone in the af observing
the unhappiness, taking pleasure in ftf it, even though it did little
to relieve my owns^H I did not understand that my selfish pleasure J
led something else to grow.  Without realizing |B opened Fbxworth Hall
to more demons of ^1^

US

Garden of Shadows and of the mind.  They took their places in the
shadows and waited for their opportunity to act.

It wouldn't be long before the opportunity came and the demons would
bring with them more misery than I had ever imagined could live in the
cold, empty rooms of Foxworth Hall.

9________ Days Colored Black the MONTHS PASSED, EACH MUCH like THE ONE
BEFOK it, filled with tensions I thought were the result o Malcolm's
attitude toward Aliria.  His belligereno showed in his sharp, often
biting comments and in thi way he often ignored her.  He was more
irritable about many things, especially Mal's love of music.  On
afternoon he came home early and found Mal at th piano with Alicia at
his side, teaching him the scales.

was crocheting a sweater for Joel and enjoying the wa;

Mal was intuitively able to pick the right notes.  Then was no question
that he had talent which, if properl.

nurtured, might grow into real musicianship.

Malcolm heard the piano and came to the salon, th rage already burning
in his eyes.  I looked up from m;

needlework just as he came charging through thi doorway.  He slammed
the piano shut with such vio fence, he almost caught poor Mal's hands
beneath th lid.  I think he wanted to do that to end Mal's pian playing
forever.  Aliria gasped and embraced Mal as thj two of them looked up
at the towering Malcolm.  ?

Garden of Shadows "What did I say about catering to these musical
whims?"

"But, Malcolm, the boy is talented.  He's a prodigy.

Look at what he can do at his age.  Let us show you," Alicia pleaded.

"I don't care what he can do on a piano.  With that make him competent
in business?  Will that enable him to walk in my footsteps?  You are
turning him into a soft, effeminate man.  Get him off that piano bench
" he said, but Alicia didn't release her embrace of him.

"Mal, stand up," he commanded.

Mal moved away from Alicia and stood up, ms lips trembling.  He was
afraid to cry, knowing how that would anger Malcolm even mote. Usually,
he sobbed silently, taking deep breaths and heaving up his shoulders.

Joel, who sat on the floor playing with Christopher, looked up with the
same terror in his eyes.  The two boys shared their fear of their
father.  Whenever one was yelled at, the other would respond as if it
were he.  Christopher, on the other hand, simply looked interested in
the sudden activity and noise.  Alicia turned to me, hoping I would
come to her aid.

"What are you doing?"  I asked.

"The boy must team never to disobey me.  I told him to spend his spare
time on his school lessons, not on the piano."  .

"He's not disobeying you," I said, "if his mother and his grandmother
permit him to do it."

"He's disobeying me!"  he repeated.

"He knows what I said about it."  He reached forward and took Mal by
the back of his neck, nearly lifting the terrified child off the
ground, and dragged him out of the salon to the library for a whipping.
Almost immediately, Joel began to cry.  Christopher looked confused."
:

"Malcolm, don't!"  Alida screamed after them.

"Concern yourself with your own offspring," he sai< spitting his words
back at her, "and leave my boys t me."

Alida buried her face in her hands and then looke up at me.  Joel had
come running to my chair t embrace my leg.

"How can you permit him to do such things?"  sh asked.

"I can hardly prohibit him from expressing his opu ion about his own
children, especially in his ow house."

"But you're the mother; you should have something to say, shouldn't
you?"

"Are you trying to engender an argument bet wee my husband and myself?"
I responded.  I knew Sh wasn't, but I wanted her to think I believed
it.

"Of course not, Olivia.  Oh, dear," she said, "I fe responsible.  I've
been encouraging him and you'v permitted it," she added as though just
realizing il "You shouldn't have if you knew it was going to corn to
this.  Malcolm is so cruel.  Aren't you afraid for litd Mal?"

"He will be all right," I told her.

"If he want something enough, even his father won't stop him.  He' more
like me when it comes to that.  Try to ignor Malcolm.  Stay away from
him," I added, filling in words with another meaning.

"The house is M enough."

"I feel so sorry for him, though."  She was crying She got up and left
the room.

I didn't call her back to comfort her; I was happy tiri there were
strong differences between her and Mai colm.  As long as there were
such differences, I had ri fear that she would ever respond to his
amorous approaches.

Then things changed again.

On the occasion of Christopher's third birthday, Garland and Alicia
held a party and invited a number of neighboring couples who had
children Christopher's, Mal's, and Joel's age.  The foyer of Soxworth
Hall sounded like a school yard.  There were children all about. Alicia
arranged for games and hung colorful paper streamers and balloons. 
Mrs.  Wilson made a huge birthday cake decorated with all sorts of
bright little animals.

Malcolm went to work in the morning, but Garland remained home to help
with the party, something Malcolm thought was a ridiculous thing for
him to do.

"He's ludicrous when it comes to Christopher," Malcolm told me that
morning after breakfast.  Garland and Aficia had left the table to
prepare for the party.

"He acts like a man in his dotage.  You would think it was his first
child."

"Perhaps he is proud of not only having been able to have a child, but
having one so handsome and bright," I said.  Malcolm's eyes narrowed,
and for the first time I understood that he was jealous of Garland's
attention to Christopher.

"Didn't your father give you the same kind of attention?"

"Hardly.  It was the other way around.  I had to practically beg him to
take me along on his business trips.  After my mother teft, he was so
weak, he even tried to blame me for driving her away.  I'll never
forgive him for that.  My mother loved me more than anything, and it
was his own inadequacies that forced herjto abandon me.  Don't you
understand, every time he looks into my blue eyes, he ees -Doisaae.  He
Garden of Shadows knows he could never make her love him the way loved
me.  Oh, she must have hated him .. . othen she never would have left
me.  I'll never forgive him losing her."

For the first time in years, I actually felt sympathy my husband, and I
reached out to touch his tremb hand.

"But he spent more time with you when were older, didn't he?"  I asked,
hoping to calm agitation.

"Not until I was much older and I could relieve ;

of some of his business responsibilities.  I was sen one private school
after another until college, anytt to keep me out of his sight.  When I
was away it home, he never wrote or answered any of my lett One
Christmas vacation I returned home from bos ing school and found a
house full of servants, but father gone on one of his safaris.  It
never occur re him to take me along.  I had no friends to speak of,;

spent the entire holiday vacation wandering ab Fbxworth Hall, listening
to the echo of my own f( steps."

"Malcolm," I said, seeing he was in the mood to) about his past,
something he rarely liked to do, "] always meant to ask you.  After
your mother left, she ever write to you?  Did you ever hear from her
"Not a word, not a card, nothing.  When I was you I used to think my
father was hiding her letters to and I would stay alone up in my room
for hours wri) her endless letters that were never mailed.  I we plead
for her to come back to me.  I was only five ye oW.  I needed her!  I
couldn't comprehend what ^ sessed her to turn her back on her loving
son.  If I co talk to her right :aow, that's all I'd want to know."!

"What good would that do you now?"  I asked.

"You wouldn't understand," he said, and left me rather than continue
the conversation.

I was surprised to see him return home on the day of Christopher's
birthday party in time to attend the festivities.  It wasn't beyond him
to ignore the boy's special day, even though it would hurt his father.
What surprised me was the way he looked at Alicia when he set eyes on
her in the foyer, where she was entertaining the neighboring
children.

She was wearing one of those sack dresses that made women look more
like boys, although she didn't wear any flattener to keep her breasts
from poking up against the flimsy material.  She had her hair up and
she wore two strings of enormous pearls.  At a party, with people
around her, she grew radiant and alive again.  She looked as she had
when she first arrived at Fbxworth Hall.  Even Garland seemed
regenerated; the tired, worn expression he had been wearing lifted like
a mask.

Alidads laughter echoed through the large room.  The children were
delighted with her warmth and gaiety.

They trailed after her, vying for her attention.  Our two boys were at
the forefront, chanting her name.

Malcolm stood like a statue watching her.  I expected to see that
characteristic sneer, that hateful look in his eyes, but instead, I saw
his face soften and his lips relax.  He looked like one of the
children, enamored of her.

Something wild and frightening burgeoned in my heart.  He was looking
at her with the kind of longing only a man in love had for a woman.
What I thought had died had not.  It had been hibernating, sleeping
like some giant bear, waiting for spring.  Alicia's beaut) that spring.
It tempted him, awoke the strong fee in him, and beckoned him in
pursuit once again.

I heard it in the way he addressed her when spoke.  I saw it in his
eyes, eyes that would not c from her as she went about the foyer,
conducting party.  He was satisfied sitting in a chair, sipping and
observing Alicia all afternoon.

Long after the party ended and the guests were g Malcolm remained in
the foyer watchjing AUda si vise the cleanup.  Garland, tired from the
acti retreated to his bedroom to rest.  I saw to bathing children and
preparing them for bed.

Alicia announced she was retiring to the Swan R to relax with a good
book.

"Wasn't it a wonderful little party?"  she asked "The children enjoyed
it," I admitted.

"One i ders, though, if a three-year-old can appreciate festivity."

"Oh, Olivia, sometimes you sound just like 1 colm," she sighed.  I was
sorry he wasn't close en to hear that.

I watched her go up the spiral staircase and th went to gather my
needlework and fake it up to bedroom.  Ididn't rush right upstairs.
Theservant$ some questions about some of the glassware and 1 Wibon
Wanted to discuss the menu for the cod week.

What happened next was later told to me by A!

but she was in such a hysterical state at the time, it difficult to
understand all of it.  ' I was halfway up the Staircase when I heard
scream.  That Was followed by a loud crash against wall of the Swan
Room.  I hurried up the remaii Garden of Shadows steps and rushed down
the hallway to her doorway in time to see Garland crumple on the floor,
clutching his chest.  He was in a nightdress; apparently he had been
woken from his sleep, and had come running barefoot to the Swan Room,
Alida was sprawled over the bed, her nightgown torn from 'the right
shoulder to the waist, her breasts exposed.  Malcolm stood over his
father's collapsed body, his hands clenched into fists, his face
beet-red, his eyes bulging.  There was a long scratch down the right
side of his face.

"What's happened?"  I screamed.

"Quick, call for the doctor," Malcolm commanded, gathering some control
of himself when he set eyes on me, I looked at Alicia, who was now
crying hysterically and trying to cover herself with the torn shred of
her nightgown.  Garland wasn't moving, so I rushed to the nearest
phone, the one in the trophy room, and called Dr.  Braxten.

By the time he arrived, Malcolm had dragged Gar land's body back into
his own bedroom and placed him on his bed.  Alida, wearing a robe over
her torn nightgown.  Was at Garland's side, sobbing and holding his
limp hand.

"What happened?"  Dr.  Braxten asked, rushing to the bed.  Malcolm
looked first at me, then at Afida before replying.  ' "He had an attack
of some sort and yelled out.  By the time I arrived, he was like this,"
be explained.

The doctor placed his stethoscope on Garland's chest and listened for a
heartbeat.  Then he checked his eyes and his pulse.

"Must have been a heart attack," he said softly.

"I'm sorry.  There's nothing left for me to do."

Garden of Shadows Alida wailed and threw her body over Gariand'!

"No!  No!  No!"  she screamed.

"It can't be.  We ;

celebrated our son's birthday.  Please, no.  Please.  C land, wake up!
Show them you're not dead!  Garia Garland!"  Her sobbing was so
intense, it shook bed.

Malcolm turned and fled.  He didn't look at me on way out.

"I'll contact the undertaker," Dr.  Braxten said & ly.  He looked back
at ABda.

"It's best they get hen soon as possible."

"Of course," I said.

"He did come to see me a few weeks ago," ;

Braxten explained, "and I told him I wasn't happy v his heart then, but
he made me swear not to anyone, especially Alida.  He was that kind of
a ma "Yes," I said, understanding Garland's motives.

never wanted to admit his age.  He did every th possible to make life
rosy for Alida.

"Will she be all right?  I can give her something help her sleep," he
said.  I went to her, hesitating to my hands on her.  Finally, I
touched her shoulder, "Alida, the doctor wants to know if you want hia
give you something to help you sleep."

She shook her head and then raised herself slo from Garland's body. She
wore a dazed look and ga about the room as if she were in a dream. The
doc moved to her..

"It will be better for you if you go back to your ^ bed," he said,
"Sleep is the only cure for such gl sorrow."

She nodded and permitted him to help her to' feet.  As he walked her to
the door, she looked bad Garden of Shadows Garland's corpse and began
to cry hysterically again.  I followed them out and closed the door
behind me.

Malcolm was nowhere about.  He had retreated to some room in the house,
but I wasn't interested in locating him at the moment.  I went with the
doctor and Alicia to the Swan Room.  Alida permitted him to put her
into her bed like a child.

"You should stay with her for a while' he told me.

"Of course I will," I said.  I felt quite dazed by the events myself,
but I was never one to lose control and dignity.  It pleased me that
the doctor sensed my ability to handle affairs in the midst of a
crisis.  Alicia was, after all, more like a child.

"I'll go call the undertaker," he whispered.

"Call me if you need me."

"Thank you.  Dr.  Braxten."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"He was a fine ... I'm sorry," he added, and left.

I looked down at Alida.  She had turned her face into the pillow and
was sobbing softly.  I went to the doorway and closed the door, locking
it behind me.  I didn't want us to be disturbed for a while.  Then I
returned to the swan bed and sat down beside her.

"Alida," I said.

"I must know what happened here before I came upon the terrible scene.
What was Malcolm doing in your room?"  Her sobbing intensified.

"Alida, you must tell me.  You have no one else now," I added, thinking
that was agood point to bring up at this moment.  It struck home, for
her sobbing lessened and she began to turn to me.  She pressed her
hands against her face as if to stop the tears, and then brought the
blanket to her face.

"It was horrible, horrible," she began.

Garden of Shadows "What was?"  .

"I was just lying here, reading, feeling so good a the party and how
happy everyone was.  Garland .

She started to cry again.

"He was so proud, so hap "What happened here?"  I asked, pursuing.

"I didn't lock my door.  Sometimes ... so met Garland comes to me in
the middle of the night," said.

"When I heard it open, I assumed it was Gari but it was Malcolm," she
said, looking at the < quickly, her face twisting as though the entire
s were being reeaacted before her very eyes.

"What did he want?"

"He wanted " She stopped as if telling me wer< most indecent tiling she
could do.

"He wanted l she said, her anger growing.

"He came to my b told him he shouldn't be in here.  He laughed and not
to worry.  Garland was asleep.  He said ten things to me.  He told me
Garland was too old to same now, that now I would need him more than
and it was all right since he was Garland's son."

"What did you do?"

"I told him to get out or I would call Garland, bi wouldn't leave the
room.  I sat up, preparing to sea if be came any closer.  He must have
realized!

because he rushed onto the bed and put his hand' my mouth, pressing me
back to the pillow and fondling me roughly.  I tried to fight him off
am ripped my nightgown.  During the struggle I kno< over that small
night-table lamp and I manage scream.  Garland heard it and came to the
doorws time to see Malcolm trying to smother me with body."

"I thought as much," I said.  s Garden of Shadows "Garland rushed to
the bed and pulled Malcolm off.

They began to wrestle.  Garland cursed him/ and Malcolm said all sorts
of terrible things about Garland's first wife, this room, his manhood.
They fell to the floor and continued struggling, but neither struck the
other with his fist.

"Finally, Malcolm broke free of Garland's hold and crawled toward the
doorway, but Garland was in such a rage, he wouldn't permit him to
escape.  He took hold of him again and they threw each other about
until Garland screamed.  He slipped out of Malcolm's arms and fell to
the floor where he ... he, oh.  God.  Is it true?  Is Garland dead?"

"It's true," I said.

"Garland.  Garland, my Garland."  She feu back against her pillow and
began to sob again.  I knew she would cry herself into an exhaustion
and fall asleep.

There was nothing more I could do for her.  I left her there and went
out to seek Malcolm..

I found him in the trophy room and imagined he had been watching us
through his peephole the entire time.

He was seated in a leather chair, staring at the door way, his face
silkily white and his eyes wide and wild like the eyes of a man looking
at his own death.  His hands clutched the arms of the chair so hard, I
could see the veins popping below his knuckles.  He seemed to be
holding on for dear life.

"What have you done?"  I asked him.

"Leave me alone."

"Do you know what will happen when people hear of this?"

"No one will hear of anything.  It wasn't my fault.  He was a sick man
anyway.  The doctor will testify to that.

Now, get out and leave me be," he said, speak through his clenched
teeth.

"You're a hateful person, Malcolm.  You'll never I happy man after
this."

"It was her fault," he said, "Not mine."

"Her fault?"  I almost laughed.

"Get out," he repeated.  I shook my head.

"I pity you."  At that moment I really did pity h No matter what kind
of face he put on, I knew he we suffer guilt that would haunt him for
the rest of his 1 It would change him in other ways later, but for
present it would work like a knife, cutting into heart.  It was obvious
that he was trying to ease his o pain by blaming it all on Alicia.  In
his twisted mind was responsible because she resisted him and called
Garland's help.  In his twisted mind the woman i always responsible,
never the man.

Sometime later he would tell me that Alicia temp him, tormented him.
That was why she got what deserved.  He would blame it on the type of
woman;

was.  He hated her and he loved her the way he ha and loved his
mother.

I left him in that dark room, sitting in the shado

It was a large funeral, "despite Malcolm's hope that wouldn't be. 
People came from all over, some travel great distances--business
acquaintances, old friea relatives, and many who were curious about the
de of one of the area's richest men.

Malcolm wanted his father's body cremated, I lowed by a small, short
ceremony, but Garland 1 anticipated his son's indifference.  He had
left spec instructions with the minister, in writing; and wl Reverend
Masterson produced the document, Malcc Garden of Shadows could do
nothing about it.  The elaborate funeral would be held, the money
spent.

The only fortunate thing, from his point of view, was Alicia's
condition right before, during, and after the funeral.  She was on
heavy tranquilizers and moved about like a sleepwalker in a nightmare,
her face ashen, her eyes vacant, hearing no one, seeing no one, saying
nothing.  Her mother, quite a sick woman herself at this point, was
unable to make the journey.  As I had told her the night Garland died,
she had no one but me.

I saw that she was dressed properly, that she took some nourishment,
and that Christopher was well taken care of.  I guided her through the
ceremony, remained at her side, sometimes literally holding her up.  I
could see the way people were watching us, how they remarked on my
concern for her to one another, how they were impressed by the way I
took care of her.

Mrs.  Whipple, a middle-aged woman who had served as Garland's personal
secretary for many years, told me: "Garland would be so grateful to you
for the way you are helping Alida.  He was so fond of her, so fond."

"I'm doing only what is right," I told her.

"We one need thank me."

"Of course," she said.

The mourners came to comfort Alida, but she looked through every one of
them.  Garland's death had turned them all into strangers.  In a sense
all those she knew through or because of him died with him.  She had
already begun her transition into another world, a world without
Garland, without his laughter and love, a world filled with echoes and
memories.  Perhaps I dung to her so tightly because I understood the
world she was about to enter better than she ever would.  It was almost
Garden of Shadows as though I were welcoming her to it, understand!

that she would be joining me, and from now on, 1 would both suffer the
same loneliness.

During the month that followed, Alicia was practic ly an invalid. Still
under great mental strain and taki medication, she often had to be
reminded to do sim;

things for herself, Like come down to breakfast dinner.  She herself
chose darker, more simple dress to wear.  Her complexion remained pale.
Her brok heart had come up and darkened her eyes until th looked as
vacant as the artificial eyes of some of t animals stuffed and mounted
in the trophy room.  T only thing that brought any light to her face w
Christopher.  If it weren't for him, she would probat never have come
out of her room.

During the days of mourning, Malcolm behaved as Alicia were no longer
there.  Whenever he did see h< he looked through her, beyond her.  He
never spoke her and she never said a word to him.  He never ask me
anything about her either.  I knew it was his way avoiding his own
guilt.  Perhaps he hoped she won languish and die and his
responsibility for what h occurred would never be revealed.

Of course, she had made it easy for him to do all th walking about like
a ghost, dressed in either black, da gray, or dark blue, with no
makeup, her hair pinn< back sternly, and she always avoided his eyes.

Our dinners, the ones she attended, were like funei feasts.  She ate
slowly, mechanically.  Malcolm sat loo ing forward, sometimes asking me
a question, som times making a comment.  There was never any loi
conversation--just questions and answers.  ev( though she ate, her
fingers trembled when she took ti Garden of Shadows fork into them.
She cut her meat slowly, laboriously, as though the knife were terribly
dull.  Alicia didn't even realize when the dinner had ended; Malcolm
would get up suddenly and leave the table, and she would look up,
surprised.  It was as if she had just realized she was sitting there.

She would look down at Garland's seat pathetically.

The absence of a setting pained her every time she sat at the dinner
table  I was sure that was why she resisted attending.

And when she did look at Malcolm, I saw her look of confusion.  I
imagined she was trying to put all of the events into some perspective,
organize them in a way that would permit her to deal with them.  He
looked as calm and collected as ever.  She couldn't see any change in
him.  Maybe it had all been a dream.  Maybe Garland was coming down to
dinner any moment.  Once, I thought she even sat there waiting for him.
I had to tell her to begin eating.

Malcolm didn't permit her eerie presence at these meals to disturb him.
His appetite was good.  Nothing weakened him.  If he were haunted by
any dreams, I never knew.  He seemed satisfied with the way things
were, especially the way things were between him and Alicia.

But her attitude was wearing on my nerves, and sending all three of the
boys into a funk.

Finally one day I went in to have a stern talk with her.  I thought it
was time.  I was hoping that once she recovered from Garland's death,
she would think about leaving Fbxworth Hall, I thought that she herself
would want to start someplace new, once the financial situation was
dear.  She was young enough to find a new Garden of Shadows husband,
especially with the kind of wealth she joyed.  What man wouldn't want a
beautiful, i woman with a beautiful child?

"None of us is happy about what happened," I Si "but you still have
responsibilities.  You are still & Garland Christopher Foxworth, and as
his wife;;

should overcome your grief and begin to take can your son properly.

"She wanted to start to cry, b| wouldn't permit it, even though I
pitied her siti there on her bed, looking as fragile as a baby roil
Despair had washed all the color from her face.  j "What kind of an
example are you setting for Ct top her  For Mal and for Joel?"  I
continued.

"The< see what you are and what you are doing.  Your attilGi is turning
this house into a morgue."  , "Oh, Olivia, I can't get it through my
head' Garland is really gone."  She pressed her hands tog er and began
to turn them as though she were wrin out invisible wet clothes.  J "He
is gone, and it shouldn't be such a surp Some time ago, I had a
discussion with you about marriage, and I pointed out that he would
die" before you.  You didn't seem to care."

"I cared.  I just didn't believe it would happen.

"I tried to warn you about living in a dream w Now you are living in
reality, just as I have had tori the first day I walked into this
house."  4i She looked up at me sharply.  That she underst|| "You're so
much stronger than I am, Olivia.  q| not afraid of anything; you're not
afraid of || alone."  ^ "- :- ^^H "life makes you strong.  If you don't
let it malq strong, it win kin you.  Is that what you want?

want to leave your son?"

Garden of Shadows

"No!"

"Then shake off this self-pity and be a mother to your child."

She nodded slowly.

"I know you're right.  I am indebted to you in so many ways.  I knew
from the first day I came here that you were a wise and intelligent
woman.  Malcolm never intimidates you, no matter what he does."

"Get dressed, come down to dinner, and end this wallowing in grief," I
commanded.

Perhaps I should have permitted her to remain forever in mourning.
Perhaps I should have encouraged it.  My little talk was too effective.
When she came down to dinner that night, she began a rather quick
recovery.  Grief, no matter how you cater to its gloom, has a way of
dissipating.  She appeared at the table that night as someone who had
just awoken from a long sleep.  She had rouged her cheeks, and painted
her lips, put on a bright blue dress and wore one of the diamond
necklaces Garland had bought her.  I had forgotten how beautiful and
charming she could be.  I should never have forgotten that.  The moment
she stepped into the dining room, I realized I had resurrected more
than Alicia's beauty.  Malcolm's eyes widened;

his undertaker face disappeared.  Not only did he look at her intently
again, but before the dinner ended, he spoke directly to her.  He put
on his haughty manner like a hat as he explained some of the details of
Garland's estate and how he planned to invest her money.

"It will be a while yet before I have things straightened out," he
said, "but soon I will sit down with you Ad explain your financial
situation."

"Thank you," she said..

Garden of Shadows "Why is it taking so long?"  I asked.

"It didn't t this long after my father died."

"Things were not quite as complex.  My father sis ted on some intricate
clauses that the probate 1 yers have to work out.  Our money is
invested in div< areas.  Your father was a businessman, not an inves
His fortune should have been doubled by now," added for my benefit.

"It's all right, Olivia," Alkaa said.

"I'm sure it w< be much longer."

Malcolm was very pleased by her comment.  It almost as though she had
come to his defense.  If wants to be the fool, I thought, let her.

Her recovery continued.  She looked after Chri pher completely and, as
before, devoted most of time to all the children.  She went out to shop
for s< new clothing for herself and for Christopher and grew stronger,
brighter, even prettier every day.

I saw the way Malcolm watched her recovery.

though they said only what was necessary to each oti I was surprised at
how civil she was to him.  Surely blamed him for everything, I thought.
Surely despised him.  How could she even look at him?  1 there no anger
and hate in her?  Was she so innoc and pure that vengeance could find
no home in, bosom?  Her tolerance, her softness, her re tun happiness
infuriated me.  I had even hoped to see plot against Malcolm; perhaps
enlist me in some plaa force him to give her more money, for that was
the<i thing that would have hurt Malcolm the moi expanding on the
settlement, i But she was entirely trusting and patient.  Didn't
understand bow dangerous it was to be kind to a I Garden of Shadows
like Malcolm?  When I could tolerate it no longer, I confronted her and
was astonished at her thinking.

"Malcolm must be suffering too," she said.

"It was his father.  He has to live with it."

"Look how well he is living with it," I said.

"Has it slowed him down even a little?  He^s at his business just as
vigorously as before.  He's even happier because Garland isn't around
to question anything he does!"

"Perhaps it's just an act."

"An act!  Do you know that he didn't want to spend half as much as was
spent on Garland's funeral?  Do you know he still complains about
that?"

She smiled like some nun refusing to admit to violence and cruelty in
the world God created.  Every thing had a reason, a purpose, and would
be explained in the hereafter.  She was incapable of facing or admit
ting the existence of evil in the hearts of men.

"I understand his motives.  He couldn't face the funeral; he wanted to
keep it small so it would be easier for him."

"You fool," I said.

"He cared only about the cost, not the significance.  Why don't you
pressure him more to settle your estate?  Who knows what he's doing to
cheat you?"

"I wouldn't even know where to begin, Olivia.  I was never very
business-minded.  He'll follow Garland's wishes, I'm sure," she said.

"Do you want to languish here forever, waiting?

You're young, still very beautiful.  Don't you envision a new life for
yourself?"

"I don't know," she said, looking around.

"I can't see myself leaving Boxworth Hall just yet.  Garland's spirit
is still here.  Shouldn't his son grow up here?"

Garden of Shadows I sat back, frustrated with such simplicity, su
innocent trust and faith.

"What about a new husband?"  I said.

"Do you thi if you took a new husband, he could come here to li with
you?  Do you think Malcolm would tolerate that "Oh, I don't want to
think about a new husbanc She smiled as though the idea were
farfetched.

"You are making a mistake," I said.

"You should planning your future and the future of your son.  No o else
is going to do that for you, especially not Malcol Put the past
away."

"There's a time for that, I don't think anyone woi be in so great a
rush."

"I would."

"No, you wouldn't."

"I assure you," I said, flushing with anger, "I woui And someday you'll
wish you had listened to me Someday was to come even sooner than I had
expected

Malcolm Has His aucia NEVER FORGOT MY WORDS OF WARNING, EVEN though
she pretended not to have heard them.  She continued to move through
the house like a grown child, her innocence and brightness lighting the
dark shadows of Poxworth Hall.  Whenever Malcolm spoke to her or
whenever she was forced to speak to him, she looked like a young girl
who had built up her courage to face the dentist.  She listened to
whatever she had to hear; she said what she had to say, and then she
moved off, her smile and cheery voice returning as it would to one who
had lived through the worst and now could go on..  . ;,: .  {
:..,.,.;,-- ,: :

The.eyeaings were different though.  After Christopher had eaten and
she had finished dinner, and after she put her three-year-old son to
steep in the nwsery, she would avoid any contact with Malcolm, and,
after a while, even any contact with me.  If she didn't leave the house
for one reason or another, she would retreat to the Swan Room,
supposedly to read and relax.

Garden of Shadows Often, when I put my ear to the wall in my room
would hear her sobbing and talking as though Garia were there living
beside her on the bed.  I could alm< believe that a love as passionate
as theirs had be would enable them to reach across the abyss bet we
life and death and join hands for some precious n meats every night.

"Oh, Garland, Garland, I miss you so, "she woi cry.

"How hard it is here without you and how mu little Christopher misses
you.  Garland, my love."

I did feel sorry for her, for I understood why she w so reluctant to
leave and why she hadn't pressur Malcolm to settle her estate and make
leaving possib As long as she was here, as long as she slept in the Sw
Room, she kept Garland alive in her mind.  Once s left Foxworth Hall,
Garland would be left finally in ] grave.

One dark night in midwinter I was awakened to t sound of her cries,
only these were not cries of sorro these were cries of fear.  Confused,
I slipped out of i bed and put my ear to the wall.  Her cries becal
muffled, almost inaudible.  I put on my robe and we to the doorway of
the Swan Room.  I listened and th knocked softly.

"Anda.  Alida, are you all right?"

There was no response, so I tried the handle, but ( door was locked.  I
tapped again and waited.  Still, the was only silence.  Perhaps she was
only having a dreai I thought and went back to sleep

In the morning she was different, more the way s had been during her
bereavement.  She didn't coi down to breakfast until after Malcolm had
gone a she ate very little.

"Are you sick  I asked her.

Garden of Shadows "No," she said, offering no other explanation.  She
continued to pick at her food and then put her fork down.

"You certainly look sick.  And you've left practically everything on
your plate."

"I'm not sick," she repeated.  She looked at me with tear-filled eyes.
I held my breath, expecting her to tell me some great secret, but she
simply bit her lip and got up from the table.

"Alida," I called.  She did not turn around but returned to her room,
where she remained for most of the day.

She was like that on and off over the next few weeks.

Sometimes she would be talkative and full of energy and I would think
she was herself again, and then she would become moody and quiet and
withdrawn.  She either couldn't or wouldn't explain why.

A week later I was again awoken by the sound of her cries.  This time
they were shrill but short.  They stopped before I even decided to go
to her door.  In the morning she was dreary and tired, moving like one
in a daze.

Both Malcolm and I had finished our breakfast, so she ate alone.
Shespent the whole afternoon alone in the Swan Room.  Finally, driven
more by my curiosity than anything, I went up to her.

She was lying on aerback, folly dressed, staring up at the ceiling. She
didn't even hear me knock or open the door, nor did she hear me
approach her.

"Alida," I said.

"Are you ill?  Is this something that comes and goes?"

She looked at me as if she were accustomed-to people simply; appearing
beside her in the room.  There was no surprise in her face.

Garden of Shadows "Again, you hardly ate today and you spent no with
Christopher.  You've been up here for h apparently just lying here in
your clothing."

"Yes," she said, "I'm ill."  She turned away, cag me to leave, but I
was determined to know wha going on.

"What is wrong with you?  Are you in pain?  Di wake up with pain every
night?"

"Yes, I'm in pain."

"Where is this pain?"

"In my heart," she said.

"Oh."  I shook my head and looked down at h think it will be that way
for you until you lea vi house," I said.  Her lips began to quiver and
brought her hands to her face.

"Crying won't nothing will help but doing what I say.  If you wi leave,
I will pressure Malcolm into ending this de lately prolonged settlement
of your estate.  Frani think it would be better for everyone.  You
don't n how depressing you can be and " "Oh, Olivia," she said,
suddenly turning oh taking her hands away from her face and looking
distraught than I bad ever seen her look.

"You a intelligent, so strong.  Don't you know what is ha| ing?  Surely
you sense it."

I stared down at her, unable to speak for a moi She bit her lower lip
and shook her head as if she trying to prevent herself from saying any
more.:

"What?"  I am.

"Tell me."

"You knew.  You always knew.  You expected iM it in your face, but I
was; afraid to say anything to "Malcolm," I said.  I looked about the
Swan R instinctively understanding that it was this room magnificent
bed, these sensual surroundings that Garden of Shadows partly
responsible.  Why had she remained in here after Garland's death?

"Tell me exactly what has happened

She took a deep breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"He has been coming to me at night and forcing himself on me," she
confessed, speaking barely above a whisper.

I pressed my fingers into my own palms so hard that the nails cut my
skin.  Of course.  In my heart I had known what she was going to tell
me.  I came in here and forced her to say it, partly to punish myself
and partly, by forcing her to sayjt to punish her.  What had almost
happened at the lake and what Garland had prevented with his death had
finally happened.; From the day I stood by Malcolm's side and first set
eyes on her getting out of that car with Garland, I knew it was
inevitable.  I saw it in the way Malcolm had looked at her then and the
way he looked at her whenever she moved through this house, her rich
chestnut hair ;. tumbling about her neck and shoulders, her eyes bright
a with life and energy.

| "Why didn't you lock your door?"

I "I did, but he bad a key.  He always had a key.  He : didn't have to
use it until after Garland's death.  I never told you this, but even
before Garland died, he came in j- here one night.  He knew I left the
door open for Garland.  I heard him.  Of course I thought it was ',
Garland at first, but when I looked up and saw it was : Malcolm, I
pretended to be fast asleep.

"He came to the side of my bed and he stood there ; staring down at me
for the longest time.  I thought if I Moved, even in the slightest way,
he would ... he ; would attack me,so I remained as still as I could. I
felt him touch my hair ever so gently and I heard him sij Then he
turned and slipped out of the room as silen as he had come in."

"But you never told Garland?"

"No.  I was afraid of what he would do, and as y see, I was right.  It
all came to tragedy.  Oh, Oliv Olivia."

"So you locked your door now and he came in.  W did you permit it this
time?  Garland was already dea< "He told me he would hurt Christopher.
He woi find a way.  It would be easy for him, he said.  There v no one
to stop him from doing anything anymore, said.  And he was violent at
times."

I sat down beside her, my heart pounding.  I recall the first night he
had come to me, how rough he h been.  She had every reason to fear he
would ha Christopher.  Malcolm was capable of great violence order to
get what he wanted.

"How long has this been .. . has he been coming you?"

"It's been on and off for over a month."

"A month?"  I hadn't realized it had been going] that long.  How could
she have kept it to herself if long?

She sat up.

"The first time he came, I thought it wa dream, a nightmare.  It was
late at night.  He slipped so silently, I never heard him until he Was
actua beside me in the bed.  I turned and there he was, nak He embraced
me and pressed his mouth against mi before I could utter a word, a
scream, and he held there so long, I thought I would smother."  ,1
"What then?"  I asked.

"He frightened me, not because I thought he won Garden of Shadows hurt
me so much, but because of the way he was acting, the things he was
saying."

"What things?"

"He didn't call me Alida when he stroked my body and kissed my
breasts."

For a moment I thought I couldn't breathe.  I pressed my palms against
my chest and tried to swallow.  In my heart I knew what she was going
to say now, too, but I was terrified at hearing her say it.

"He called me Corinne.  I thought he was having a dream, walking in his
sleep, so I tried to reason with him, to tell him I was not Corinne,
that he should wake and go back to his bedroom, but he didn't hear me.
He pressed on, not roughly, but persistently, intently.  It was no good
trying to fight him off; he was too strong.

When I finally tried to resist, be held my arms down, and every time I
cried out, he pressed his mouth against mine so hard and roughly, I
feared for my very life.  I had to subdue my cries and let him have his
way.  It was awful, awful," she said, burying her face in her hands.

"What happened when it was over?  Did he still call you Corinne?"  She
looked up and shook her head.

"When it was over and he had spent himself, he knew exactly where he
was and who I was.  That was when he told me never to speak about it or
he would harm Christopher.  I thought, I hoped and prayed, that would
be it; but he came again and again.  He was here last night," she
added, and brought her hands to her face again.

"I came to your door once when I heard your cries.

Didn't you hear me knock and call to you?"

"Yes, but he had his hand around my throat and he squeezed so hard, I
couldn't breathe.  Then he brought Garden of Shadows his face to mine
and forbade me to utter a sounc knew he would kill me if I did."

"Why didn^t you come to me before this?"

"I told you.  I was afraid for Christopher.  Malo seems always to get
whatever he wants one way another.  Even if you stopped it from
happening, would take his revenge, don't you see?  I'm soi Olivia.  I
know I should have told you, but I ' frightened.  Please, forgive me
for that."

I couldn't blame her for being afraid.  There w times when I feared
Malcolm myself.

For a few moments I sat there in silence, think about this room,
thinking about what Malcolm 1 done.  It was as if his mother's spirit
still lived here,;

tormented him.  For him to come back to Alicia, e' after the terrible
and fatal scene with his father," unbelievable.  I knew Alicia felt
safe because she di< believe Malcolm could do that after being re
sponsi for Garland's death.

"Does he always start off by calling you Corinne "Yes."

"And he always ends by knowing you're Alicia?"

"Not always.  Sometimes he leaves without calling Alicia.  He just gets
up and walks out like he's asle One time, the third time, he made me do
somett terrible.  He's insane."

"What did he make you do?"

"He took one of those old nightgowns out of closet and made me put it
on before he .. . before got into the bed beside me.  I had to walk
about 1 room and sit at the dressing table.  He put her br into my hand
and sat on the bed while I ran it throi my hair.  He even made me go
into the bathroom i come out as though I were getting ready for bed-il
Garden of Shadows just sick doing it, but I couldn't refuse him.  He
became even more enraged when I hesitated."

How horrible, I thought.  How sick and how horrible.

I spun around and looted at the wall between the Swan Room and the
trophy room.  Then I turned back to her angrily.

"You should have had all those dresses taken up to the attic when you
first moved in here," I said.  How could she ever have anticipated what
Malcolm would make her do?

And yet, I couldn't help but think her responsible;

she had been too trusting and innocent.  I looked at her.

She had been given all the warnings.  I had practically pleaded with
her to listen to me, but she was foolish and stubborn, insisting on
holding on to a dead love.

Maybe she was tying to me; maybe she really enjoyed what Malcolm had
done and was doing and now felt guilty about it.  I knew Alicia was
that kind of woman the kind of woman who wore sex about her like a racy
undergarment.

"Have you done something to tempt him?  Did you ever invite him to this
room?"

"No; oh, no.  You must never beaeve that, Olivia.  I did nothing,
nothing she protested.

"In fact, he once followed me to the lake when I went for a dip and
tried to get me to make love to mm.  I ran from him and told him that
if he didn't stop his advances, I would tell Garland."

"Why didn't you ever tell Garland before .. .?"

"I didn't want what finally happened to happen.  Do you think I'm
responsible for Garland's death; that if I had told him about Malcolm
earlier, I might have prevented it?  Do you, Olivia?"

"I don't know.  Maybe, Maybe not.  Maybe he would have died earlier." I
looked at her suspiciously.

"Why Garden of Shadows did you finally tell me this?  If you're afraid
of wl Malcolm could do to Christopher?"

"Because I had to now."

"Why?  What makes it any different now?"

"Oh, Olivia," she hesitated.

"I'm in such troubh She started to cry again.

"I can't help you if I don't know everything," I sai "All right, then.
Why are you in so much trouble?"

"lam in trouble because ..."

I felt all the shadows of Fbxworth Hall gatheri around me, to drown me
in their darkness.

"... because I'm pregnant with Malcolm's child.

I stood up and went to the window.  I saw Oh below trimming hedges and
I thought, here I have this--all this land, this beautiful house, two
goc looking boys, wealth beyond imagination, and I w one of the most
unhappy women in the world.  It unfair; it was a cruel joke.  I wished
that I won awaken and find that all of this--my marriage Malcolm, the
death of my father and of Garland, t rape of Alida--was just a long
terrible dream.

thought I might even welcome being back in i father's house with the
prospects of being a spinster i the rest of my life.

"Please, don't hate me, Olivia," she begged.  I d hate her; I couldn't
help but hate her.  I would alwa hate her and women like her.

I closed my eyes, straightened my back, and tcx hold of myself again. I
vowed that nothing Malcol Neal Poxwortfi did or would do would ever
reduce i to the sniveling weakling Alicia now was.  I turned her
slowly.  She saw the resolve in my face and sat up the bed.

Garden of Shadows "Does Malcolm know this?"

"Yes," she said.

"I told him this morning."

"This morning?  When this morning?  He was with me this morning at
breakfast and left before you came down."

"I didn't sleep all night.  I wanted to tell him last night before he
left my room, but he was like a man walking in his sleep again and he
wouldn't respond."  She looked down.

"So I went to his room before he rose."

"You went to his room?"  After all that had happened that Should not
have seemed So important to me, but throughout all the years Malcolm
and I had been married, I had never gone to his bedroom while he was
there.

"While he was still asleep?"

"Yes.  I stood by his bed and waited for him to realize I was standing
there.  When he opened his eyes, he looked at me as though I were a
ghost.  It took him a few moments to realize it was me.  At first he
was angry I had come to his room, but I had to tell him what he had
done, don't you see?"  she said

"I blurted it out before he could say anything else."

"What did fac say?"  I asked, remembering how calm, how ordinary
Malcolm's behavior had been at break fast.  But then again, I realized
that it was his "poker face," his cool and controlled manner that
enabled him to outsmart so many in the business world.

"First he smiled," Alicia said, "but so coldly, it gave me the chills.
Then he said many terrible things, making it seem as if it were all my
fault.  I wanted to shout, to scream, to cry, but I was afraid to wake
the house," she said.

"He gave me an ultimatum.  I don't know what to do," she added
quickly.

"I'm sure he would do what he said he would if I don't agree.  I'm
afraid, afraid for myself and for Christopher."

Garden of Shadows Now I understood that she had worked herself up t
appeal to me for help.  She had been lying here all d& trying to figure
out a way to come to me.  I had made easier for her by coming to her.

"What was the ultimatum?"

"He wants me to remain here and have the child i secret.  Then
Christopher and I are to leave- We will gf all the money Garland left
to us.  He explained that has been invested in the stock market, but he
wi liquidate what we need to start somewhere new an then I will have
fall control of our funds."  .

"But why have the baby in secret?  What differenc does it make if you
leave now and have the bab someplace else where no one knows you?"

She looked down.  There was something more, sonw thing more terrible
for her to add.

"He wants the baby," she said.

"What?"

"The child is to be his, yours."  She spoke quickl) "He said if I
didn't agree, he would accuse me of being a fortune hunter.  He said
that because I've be com pregnant after Garland's death, he will be
able to have his lawyers drag me through the courts and prove I an a
woman of little virtue who married an elderly man t gain wealth, and
after he died, I gave myself t Malcolm in order to blackmail him for
even mor wealth.  He said he didn't care what kind of publicity i
brought to the Foxworths.  Publicity couldn't hurt him it could hurt
only me.

"He said he would drive me out of here penniless and put me through a
scandalous court trial.  I would have a reputation and no one would
want to be sees with me.  The headlines and publicity would kill m
mother, who, as you know, is already deathly ill.

Garden of Shadows "I wouldn't even know how to fight him.  I have no
lawyers, no contact with that sort of person.  Garland took care of all
that, and after he died, Malcolm has been handling my legal affairs.
Here I would be, a widow with a three-year-old child, at the mercy of
the cold world."

"He wants the child?"  I repeated.

"Yes.  He says he knows it will be a girl.  I am to live in the north
wing, secluded until after the birth.  Then I will be free to leave
with Christopher and my money intact."  She wrung her hands and looked
at me with plaintive eyes.

"Oh, Olivia, what shall I do?  You must help me decide!  You must!"

I stared at her, and for a long moment, I felt helpless.

Malcolm Neal Fbxworth always got what he wanted, one way or another. He
wanted a daughter.  Now he had gotten one.  In my mind I had no doubt
Alicia's child would be a girl.

All this had been going on right before my eyes.  I had sensed and
suspected, but I had refused to permit myself to believe it, and now I
had to swallow the bitter pill of truth.  I couldn't close my door or
look the other way.  I was as much a part of it as she was because I
had not prevented it.  I was like a mother who had to take
responsibility for the actions of her child who knew no better. Malcolm
had used and abused her in the worst way a man could abuse a woman, and
she had been helpless to protect herself.

Perhaps worst of all, she was now pregnant with the child that should
have been mine.  If a daughter was indeed to be born to the Foxworths,
it should be my daughter, not hers.

I envied her, but I didn't respect her.  In that moment I felt all
sympathy for her slip away.

Garden of Shadows

"Olivia," she repeated, "what should I do?"

"Do?"  I said.

"I think you've done enough."

looked at her and her eyes skipped guiltily away.  Sl knew she
shouldn't have let it get this far; she knew th now, but she was hoping
I would come up with son sort of solution that would save her.

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror above til dressing table
and saw that I had already taken on tl hardness that was to
characterize me for the rest of n life.  I was looking at myself with
flint-hard gray eye My lips, pressed tightly together, formed a thil
crooked knife slash, and my breasts looked like tw hills of concrete.

"Olivia?"  Her voice was filled with pleading.

"There's nothing for you to do," I said, "but wh Malcolm wants.  Start
to gather your things togethe Plans and preparations must be made.
Begin to to people that you are intending to leave Foxworth Hal so that
when you go into hiding, no one will miss you.

"But what about Christopher?  Someone's bound l see Christopher."

"Christopher won't be with you," I said, invent il the ideas as quickly
as I spoke.

"What?  What are you saying?"

"You will give it out that you are going on prolonged trip, during
which time Christopher wi remain here.  When you return, you will be
leavil Poxworth Hall for good.  This trip is to make pre pari tions for
your new life.  No one need know the detail especially the servants. If
anything, we will leave thei with the suggestion you are "finding a new
husband," added, satisfied with that touch.  Her face was a study <
shock and dismay.

"Shut away from my child?  All these months?  Bi Garden of Shadows
he's a little boy, just three years old.  He's already lost his father.
He needs his mother.  I know that he is close to Mal and Joel and he'll
enjoy their companionship, but..."

"They won't be permitted into the north wing," I went on, ignoring her
objections.

"You'll take the room at the end, the one that has the adjoining bath.
The one," I added, "that you thought was so exciting because of the
doorway in the closet that led up to the attic."

"But much of it is dusty and cluttered.  It's no place for me to
live."

"You'll make the best of it," I said.  I had to make her see that she
bore some guilt and responsibility for what was happening to her and
her child.

"But what about the classes for Malcolm and Joel held at the far end?
Mr.  Chillingworth?"

"That will have to stop now, won't it?"  I said, happy to have a reason
to do so.

"Obviously, Malcolm will have to agree to that.  The boys will have to
be sent to school.  It will be better that they are away from the house
anyway.  There will be much less chance of their discovering
anything."

"The maids, the servants," she said.  She was grasping at anything to
stave off her fate.  I was amused by her frantic questions, her hope to
find a reason why Malcolm's plan couldn't be carried out.

"The ones we now have will all be dismissed.  They will leave thinking
you are leaving, even thinking that I am pregnant," I added.  I
couldn't help but like the fact that they would think that.  It was
almost as if I really were pregnant.

"Even Mrs.  Wilson?"

"All of them.  Maybe not Olsen.  Olsen is not in the house that much
and is somewhat slow-witted.  I doi think it matters much about Olsen,
and I rather like t way he handles the gardens

"But a new maid will still have to come up to m Olivia.  She'll
know."

"No maid will come up to you.  I will come up you."

"You?"

"I will bring you everything you need," I said.  Sl would be entirely
dependent on me for everything her food, her clothing, her soap, even
her toothbrus "The doctor," she chirped, thinking she had found way
out.

"We won't need the doctor.  Later, we'll get midwife.  You're young,
healthy.  There'll be no prolem

"I'm afraid," she said.

"What alternative do you have?"  With each se tence, I felt my power
increasing, as my mind worfa quickly to solve every detail.  For the
first time since I come to Foxworth Hall, I felt in control, in com man
Yes, now I was true mistress.

"You were right to thil Malcolm would carry out his threats.  And how
wou you feel having Malcolm's child to care for after all th he has
done to you?  You couldn't help but take o your frustration and pain on
the poor thing," I said.

"I would never..."

"A penniless woman with two children to care fo rather than one?"

"I don't know if I can do what he wants."  She lookx down at her hands
in her lap and then looked up at to resignation settling in her
expression.

"Only if I kno you are here to help me."

"I said what I would do, but I won't spend all n time in the north wing
baby-sitting you " I added.

"You must not go into a dream world about this too."

She nodded, now resigned to her fete.  Speaking to her like this made
me feel even more powerful.  I couldn't be as slim and as beautiful as
she was, but finally, her beauty had proven to be a weakness and a
fault.  It had led her down a painful path, a path I would never choose
for myself.

In a strange way I thought of her the way I used to think of the
miniature dolls in the glass-encased house.

I used to feel frustration because I couldn't move them about
physically.  I could only imagine their movements  But I could move her
about.  I could put a smile or a grimace on her face.  I could make her
laugh or cry.

She was in my hands and as helpless as a little doH.

"I shall speak to Malcolm," I said.

"And demand he explain everything and tell me everything, even the
monetary details."  She looked up hopefully.  It was happening already.
Her heart was beating in anticipation.  I had sent the blood pounding
through her veins with the utterance of a simple sentence.

"Maybe you'll change he mind.  Maybe you'll get him to see it would be
better if I just left now."

"Maybe.  Only don't put too much faith in that.

Malcolm has never changed his mind about anything."

"But he listens to you."

"When he wants to; only when he wants to, and only if it will suit his
purpose."

"Without your cooperation, this can't work.  You could refuse to go
atong with it."  ' "I could, but the alternative is not a good one for
you, is it, my dear?"  I said.  If there was one thing I wouldn't
tolerate now, it was her making my decisions for me.

"He'll simply carry out his threats.  You nave to took at it another
way now.  Without me, you will Ie this house penniless."

The smile of hope evaporated.  I felt like a pup peti I had pulled a
string and turned her back into a stati depression.  From this day
forward, she wouldn't singing and skipping through Poxworth Hall un lei
wanted her to.  She wouldn't be bubbly and alive un I wanted her to
be.

She fell back on the bed and started to cry.

"I wouldn't do that either, Alicia.  You must k yourself strong and
healthy.  If you went through all and something happened to the baby
..."

"What?"  She looked terrified, her eyes wide, her pulled tight.

"I don't know what Malcolm would do, but he we believe you hurt or
killed the baby on purpose."

"I would never, could never do such a thing."

"Of course you wouldn't, but Malcolm would th you had.  Don't you see?
You will have to eat well i keep your spirits high."

"But Olivia, I will feel..  . imprisoned."

"Yes," I said.

"I know.  But we are all imprisone* one way or another, Alicia.
Ironically, your beauty imprisoned you."  I started away.

"But someday it will set me free," she said defian I turned back to
her, smiling.

"I hope so, my dear Alicia.  But for now, you mi as well consider it
your lock and key.  Who knows w Malcolm might do next time he looks at
you?  We; kn what he sees and we don't want him to have his < with you
anymore.  When you are secured in that to in the north wing,you'U be
even more defenseless tl you are now, won't you?"  I thought aloud.
The real tion put more terror in her face.  '; l Garden of Shadows
"What should I do?  I won't scar my face.  I can't become fat and ugly
overnight."

"No, you can't.  But if I were you, I'd cut off my hair as soon as
possible."

"My hair!"  She brought both her hands to1t quickly, as if it were
already being cut.

"I couldn't do that.

Garland loved my hair.  He would spend hours beside me running his
fingers through it, stroking it, smelling it."

"But Garland is dead, Alkaa.  Besides, someday you can grow it back.
Right?"  She didn't reply.

"Right?"  I insisted on being answered.  I would always insist on
that.

"Yes," she said, nearly inaudible.

"After we give it out that you're leaving and you go into the north
wing, I'll bring the scissors.  I'll even cut it off for you."

She nodded slowly, but that was not enough.

"I said I would do it for you."

She looked up.

"Thank you, Olivia."

I smiled.

"I'll do what I can," I said.

"But you must always understand that I am in a peculiar and
uncomfortable position too."

"I know.  I'm sorry for that.  Believe me."

"I believe you," I said.

"Take a nap now and later we'll talk more about what has to be done."

She lay back and I left the Swan Room, closing the door softly behind
me.  I went to the top of the spiral staircase and looked down at the
foyer of the great house.  I remembered the first morning I had stood
up here and started down, how I had felt myself growing in stature with
every step.  I was to be the mistress of this Garden of Shadows
mansion.  So much had happened since that mornin threaten my authority
and position, but ironically, began to descend now, I felt I had grown
tal stronger, wiser.

Mrs.  Steiner, coming from Malcolm's bedro where she had straightened
and cleaned, surprised:

She walked so softly, I almost suspected her of ca' dropping at the
Swan Room door white Alicia revei all to me.

"Is Mrs.  Foxworth feeling ill?"  she asked.  It always difficult for
the servants to refer to Alicis Mrs.  Foxworth when they spoke to me. I
knew t wanted to say "the young Mrs.  Foxworth," or evei take the
liberty to use her Christian name.  I glare) her and she shrank back.

"I mean, I want to ki when I should go to do her room."

"You won't do her room today," I said.

"Very good, ma'am," she said.  She started togo \softline me.

"She has a headache," I added, "but it's noti serious."

Mrs.  Steiner nodded.  I watched her descend stairs quickly, eager to
make distance between us.  ' really won't mind being let go, I thought.
Even thoi she has been here so.  long and we pay her well.  Mate will
see to it that she and the others get good se vera pay.  And afterward,
I would tell him how many i servants I wanted.  Of course, they would
have st orders to stay out of the north wing, There would be many
things he would have to now.  In many ways he would be taking orders
from i I was looking forward to his explanation of things la' for I
would confront him with Alida's confessions soon as he returned home.
I was sure he was choos Garden of Shadows tils own time and place to
tell me how things were and how they would be.  But I would upset his
strategy, and I would do my best to get my pound of flesh.

All would be dependent upon me, even Malcolm, in ways he didn't
understand or anticipate.  I would be in firm control.  It was little
enough compensation for the things I didn't have, things I had always
dreamt of having; but I was not lying to Alicia when I told her we were
all imprisoned in one way or another.  What I had decided after Alida
had told me about all that had happened between her and Malcolm was
that I would accept my imprisonment, and in accepting it, I would
become the master of my own prison house.

Malcolm^ Way, My arrogant AS EVER, malcolm SHOWED NO REMORSE, ^ guilt,
no shame.  When he arrived home that night, followed him into his
private study, a study into will he retreated every evening before
dinner, a study th was off limits to everyone in the house save Malcol
and the maid who cleaned it once a week.  As I open the wide oak door
without knocking, Malcolm look startled and angry.

"What are you doing in lies Olivia?"  he asked sternly.

I made my face like stone, and put the haughti sneer in my voice.

"I'm here to talk about your n little baby," I said.  Then I confronted
him with Alici story.  I spit every detail at him as I raged against
lust and audacity.  The sky was shrouded by aspr storm, furious and
dark, with angry bruised ctoi hovering outside the windows beyond
Malcolm's de threatening to come in and consume us.  But the clQ were
not as bruised and angry as I, and if anyone we consume today, it would
be me.

"You're making far too much of this, Olivia," Malcolm said as he
rearranged the pencils on his desk.

As I spoke, the desk lamp cast a glow over his face, darkening his
eyes.  The storm played havoc With the electric system, causing all the
lights to blink.  With the windows shut tight to keep out the fierce
rain, which now pounded furiously against the windows, scratching at
the glass, we seemed trapped together in his study.

Malcolm continued to look down at the papers on his desk.  He appeared
calm and composed, even now.  His brow was dry, his face smooth.  He
looked down at his papers, pretending that this whole situation was of
little importance.  I waited patiently as he sorted documents into two
piles.

I knew why he was ignoring me.  It was a battle of wills.  I was
determined not to whine, to scream, to act the role of the violated
wife, even though that was the role in which he had cast me.  Hysteria
would only make me weak and cause me to lose control and dignity.

Finally, he looked up at me.

"Olivia, I wanted another child, a daughter, and now I'm going to have
one," he said calmly.

"What right do you have to assume that I would accept a child of such
heinous sin into my home?  Did you think you could carry this out
without my cooperation?"  I asked, my voice still tow, my arms resting
against the front of my body, my hands gently clasped.

I did not allow my posture to reveal the tension building within me.  I
had learned from Malcolm how to put a shell of myself over myself.

"I should think you would be in favor of it," he said, a snide look on
his face.  He sat back in his chair loosely.

Garden of Shadows "Remember, Olivia, when we first contracted to
married, it was assumed that you would provide with a large family,
something I made clear that required.  I had and have definite ideas
about wha Fbxworth woman should be.  You knew what I want yet you
foiled me in this regard."

"That is an unfair statement.  It hasn't been that didn't want to have
any more children," I said, mov forward, my hands on my hips.

"Nevertheless, my dear Olivia, the fact is that 3 didn't have any more
children.  Couldn't or wouldn' not important," he said.

"So you went ahead and raped your father's wife9 asked, smiling
sarcastically.  ^ He smiled, too, to show me he could not be inti)
dated.  How I had come to hate that cold, calculal - i/.fl

S""- <

"You can believe it was that way if you want to| "What do you mean, if
I want to?  I heard ^ directly from Alicia," I said.  ^| "What would
you expect her to say?  Olivia, yoj^j be so blind sometimes.  What do
you think was gom| here, even when my father was alive?  Did you tbS|
man that age could really keep the appetite of a gq that satisfied? She
was soon making eyes at me, n^| ways to accidentally meet me alone iff
the'^j tempting me with a turn of her shoulders, a glim^ bare skin
here, a glimpse of bare skin there.  HowJ times did she find an excuse
to come to me in thellJJl here or even ... to my room?"  he said,
raitljU eyebrows.  - ... ^^| "You're making all this up to justify what
aN|U thing you have done.," "Am I?"  He smirked.

Garden of Shadows "Yes.  I know that she sought to drive you away from
her, that you pursued her even when Garland was alive."  He smiled
again.  I would wipe that confident smile off his face yet.  My eyes
drilled into his.

"I

witnessed it!"

"Oh?  Exactly what did you witness?"  I saw the worry around his eyes,
the way his eyebrows turned in toward each other, the way his forehead
creased.

"One afternoon at the late.  You followed her and tried to force
yourself on her, but she refused you.  I was in the bushes; I saw and I
heard it all."  I dropped each word as if it were a cold, hard stone to
batter his composure.

"You fool."  Anger came into his face and tightened his features into
granite.

"You thought by spying on me you would learn the truth.  You learned
only half of it.

She was a tease, a temptress.  Why do you suppose I came home early
that afternoon and went to the late?

She left all sorts of hints that she would be there, swimming naked.
She wanted me to come just so she could torment me.  It was part other
pleasure.

"Later on," he continued, "she wasn't so eager to refuse."

"That's ridiculous.  That day, before she went to the lake, she asked
me to go along with her."  I looted at him confidently; I had caught
him red-handed in a lie.

"Knowing all along that you wouldn't.  It was her way of being sure you
wouldn be around when I appeared.  She didn't anticipate yoursnqoping,
however," he said | thoughtfully.

"You're a liar!"  I pounded my own thigh with my fist for emphasis.  He
winced, but he didn't give ground.

"Am I?  Why do you think Gadafid'sdeath lies on -her mind so heavily?
She was more responsible for it Garden of Shadows than you think.  She
wanted me in that room th night."

"Wanted you?  Wanted you?  I saw her night go ripped; I saw what you
had done.  You forced yours on her?

He maintained his cold, confident smile.

"It was h way.  She enjoyed it rough.  The struggle helped to qui her
conscience when afterward she would give wholeheartedly."

"You're mad!

"No, Olivia, hardly am I mad.  It is you who are ma you know and
understand so little of the ways of m< and women.  So little because
you are so little womi yourself, except, of course, in height."

Oh, he knew how to hurt me.  How to try to blan me for his infidelity.
But if sin and lust were tn knowledge, I would rather remain
ignorant.

"I doi believe a word you say," I hissed.

"Believe what you want.  You don't want to belie" it, Olivia, because
you don't want to face the fact th you are a disappointment in many
ways as a wif Besides not being able to provide me with any mo
children, you can't provide me with warm, affect iona love.  It's not
in your nature; it never was.

"I accepted that as long as I thought you cou provide the other
necessities.  You do run the horn well; you present a proper image to
the community, b can't think of one time that I walked past yo bedroom
and had the urge to enter it," he added.

I couldn't stand it a moment longer.

"Yes, my natui may be as it is, but when you entered my bedroom, ye
never found a woman like your mother."  ;'.

"You're despicable," he said.

"I am what I am, just as you are what you are Garden of' Shadows said,
taking control.

"Threats are of no significance anymore.  The die is cast.  Upstairs in
that room that woman is pregnant with your child, a child that will be
our child in the eyes of the world.  This is how it will be:

I will have command of everything, command of how every detail of this
mockery shall be carried out," I said, savoring my power over him.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning?  We'll follow your shoddy plan, but it is I who will carry it
through.  Alida will hide in the north wing until the baby is born.
And, yes, the word will be given out that she is leaving on an
important family trip.  Christopher will remain with me and you will
treat him as though he were another of my sons.  When we hold Alida's
staged departure, I want you present, Malcolm.  Afterward, I'll dismiss
all the servants, all except Olsen.  You will provide each one of them
with a year's salary as severance pay."  I knew my gray eyes were cold,
sharp, piercing him like darts.

"A year's salary!"

"No, two years' salary!  I want them to leave very, very satisfied.
After Alida returns and is secretly hidden in the north wing, you'll
hire some new servants to carry out the menial tasks.  And you'll make
sure that none of those servants ever goes into the north wing."  :

I watched him fuming.

"Furthermore, you are never to set foot in the north wing while she
remains there.  If you should do that, I : will immediately end this
charade and face whatever I indignities result from the exposure.  I
mean that, | Malcolm.  Is that understood and agreed?"  I glared at ten
intently.  He knew he could not lie about this to my tsce now; he knew
I would see it in his eyes.

Garden of Shadows "I have no interest in her other than to see f gives
birth to a healthy child."

"Is it agreed to then?"  I persisted.

"Yes, yes."  For the first time, I saw weak Malcolm.  His shoulders
drooped.  His face haggard.  I gloated in my newfound power, si every
moment.

"Good," I said finally.

"I will be in total eh her.  You will have nothing to do with her.  I
will you as to when we should seek the services of an and you will
contract with someone and bri here."

"I was going to suggest that," he said.

"But you didn't, did you, Malcolm?  I thoi everything myself," I said,
delighted with mys eager to continue revealing my intricate plan.

"After she gives birth to the baby, she is to immediately with her
financial situation set up t Garland wanted it to be.  A deal is a
deal," making it sound as cold as it was.  His snidi formed again.

"To put that kind of wealth into the hanc child..."  ;

"A child who is to have your baby," I respond smile waned.

"Ifshe is old enough and capable < to have your baby, she can have a
portion c fortune."  j "Frankly, Olivia, I am taken with your mi
concern for her," he said, desperately trying ( power by hiding behind
a shield of sarcasm.  He to slow me down by turning me against Alicia.
B it was I who wore the look of indifference and c "It's my concern for
what she is and what yo turned her into," I said as matter-of-factly as
I "What is she?"

"A woman, something you don't highly regard."

"You're insane with your ideas," he said.  He shook s head, but he knew
I was right.

I stood arrogantly and confidently above him.  He 35 slumping in his
desk-chair.  The storm outside was sginning to lessen.  I could even
see some of the dlight filtering through the gray clouds, clouds as
gray Malcolm's face had become.

"Now for another thing," I said.

"Classes for the ys in the attic will have to stop."

"Why?  They'll be sufficiently far away from her and ey'll be up there
only part of the day," he said.

"We can't take the chance of Mr.  Chillingworth scovering anything, and
the boys must never know ie is there.  Can you imagine if Christopher
discovered s mother locked away?  Mal and Joel are to believe at the
child to be born is their brother or sister.  They ust never discover
Alicia waiting to give birth."

"It will be a girl," he said, "and it will be their ster."

"Half sister," I corrected.

"But they will believe she their full sister.  I couldn't bear for my
sons to know at their father produced a child with his own father's
ffe.  There are sins and there are sins.  Even your tterous
contributions to the church can't undo the evil gnificance of what you
have done."  I wagged a finger t-him like a strict Sunday-school
teacher.

He shook his head.  I was beating him down; Lcould !  it and it made me
feel stronger.

"What about their education?"

"They will be sent out to school, like other normal Midren.  Dismiss
Mr.  Chillingworth tomorrow and tte the arrangements for their public
education," I Garden of Shadows said, stressing the word "public."  He
winced and gfc at me with such hateful eyes, but the more hateful look,
the more satisfied I felt.

"Anything else?"  he asked bitterly.

"You win transfer one million dollars into a t fund for each of our
sons until they reach the agi eighteen."  i ;

He nearly jumped out of his chair.

"What?  Yo mad.  Why would I do that?"

"So that they will have some control over their 1 and not be totally
under your thumb," I said, sta the obvious.

"I would never do that.  It would be a foolhs waste of money.  What
would boys that age know at handling sucha fortune "You will do it and
it will be done immediately.

your lawyers right on it and have the documents re by the end of the
week.  They will be given to me safekeeping," I said, waving the air
like he often on indicate I would tolerate no more discussion on
subject.

"Amiuion dollars each?"  He was facing the una vi able fact that there
was little he could do about it;

"Consider it... a fine," I said.  He stared at l with not so much a
hateful look on his face as the 1 of a man who realized, perhaps for
the first -time, i his antagonist was formidable.  I think that in
strange way, he even respected me at that momi even though he hated
everything I was demanding "Is there anything else?"  he asked, fatigue
defeat in his voice.  ;" "Not at the moment.  We both have enough to &
suggest we get started," I'll never forget how I felt when I pivoted
and staj Garden of Shadows out of the library.  It was as though I
were leaving him in my wake, in the shadow I now cast For the fast
time, my tallness didn't bother me, for I felt I had fulfilled my
height.  I had rescued what could have been a very sad and tragic time
for me and I had even benefited from it.

Malcolm, who had always gotten his way and had always gained from
whatever he did, had had to give.

He was losing more than I was.

I stepped out into the foyer and looked up the spiral staircase toward
the Swan Room, where Alida waited to learn her sentence and her fate.
It wasn't Malcolm who went up and told her; it was 1.1 was the one who
started up the stairs; I was the one who carried the news and the
orders.  I was the one who would cause things to happen, people to move
and to change.  I was the one who would shift the shadows and the light
in Foxworth Hall.  I would close doors, open windows, put lights on and
put lights off.  I would decide when the sunlight could be permitted to
enter and when the shades would be drawn.  I would dole out happiness
and pleasure, sadness and pain the way a maid served soup.

I opened the Swan Room door without knocking.

These kinds of indignities were mine to impose now at will.  Alida, who
had just taken a bath and washed her beautiful hair, quickly wrapped a
towel around herself and reached for her robe.

"Sit down," I commanded her.  She went to the bed and sat as obediently
as any child.  I hesitated as she looked up at me with her eyes wide,
fear and anticipation in her face.  I took my time, walked over to the
window to stare out at the gray-white twiUght sky.  The rain had
stopped and the clouds were moving quickly off to the east.  The sight
of such a rapidly changing sky filled me with more energy.  I felt as
though nature touched me with her power.  Just like nature, I co
change from one extreme to another almost instant!

walked over to the dressing table and looked at powders and perfumes.

The scents were all enticingly feminine.  They fil the air with
promises of love and affection.  It was a this were a magical dressing
table.  Any ugly duckl could sit down at it and moments later be turned
ii the most attractive and inviting woman, a woman v could break men's
hearts by simply turning away ending her smiles.  Surely every time
Malcolm inha these flowery scents, his mind raced with amon thoughts
and dreams.  The scents lingered hi the;

long after Alicia passed a room or descended the sta Malcolm, coming
after her, would trail behind 1 some dog mesmerized by the aroma of
promise.  Ti would all have to come to an abrupt end.  I spun arou to
confront her.

"When you move into the north wing," I begi "you can't take any of
these things with you."  It was way of telling her it had all been
decided as Malcc wanted.

"Then I am to go into seclusion until the bab born?  You could not
change his mind?"  she asked, 1 voice dripping with defeat and
resignation.

"No," I said.

"It's the only way for you and Christopher to leave with anything.
You'll have to d and do it as I described."

She brought her hands to her face, but she did i cry.

"You should continue to dry your hair," I sa "Before you catch cold.
Getting sick now, even getti a cold, is the worst thing that could
happen."

She nodded, looking like one in a trance.  Her e?

Garden of Shadows were vacant, her shoulders sagged.  She looked down
at her own small hands, held together in a clasp of prayer.

A shawl of doom had been placed over her head, but I felt no need to
offer any words of comfort or hope.

I started out of the room.

"Olivia," she cried.  She stood up.

"I'm afraid."

"After a while," I said, "you won't be.  Believe me, I know."  I left
her looking small and alone, her face pale, her childlike beauty
wrinkled with worry.

I waited impatiently to execute my plan.  I had decided that Alicia's
confinement would begin only after she began to show--around three
months.  That left me, and Alicia, time to prepare the boys for what
was to happen.  One morning in May, after I had told Alida everything
she must say, we entered the nursery.

The nursery was warm and sunny, the wannest, sunniest room in the
house.  Mat was on the floor, children's books all around him.  Joel
was on his knees, playing with his cars and trucks.  Christopher was
sitting, sucking his thumb, watching the two older boys.

"We have something to tell you," I began.  Alida was hovering behind
me, wringing her hands, trembling like a bird.

"What, Mommy, what?"  Mal asked.

"Something very sad, I'm afraid."

The three of them moved closer together and att stared with wide eyes
at Alida, who was now on the verge of tears.

"May I tell them, Olivia," Alida whispered.

"No," I said.

"It is I who am in charge here."

Alida sat down in the wicker rocking chair and all three boys ran to
pile up on her lap.  She put her arms around them and squeezed them to
her breast as Garden of Shadows (-Christopher rained kisses on her,
and my boys join iAn'AlidaB going to be leaving us."

They simply stared, not saying a word.  They didi seem to understand.

"Alida is going to be leaving us," I repeated.

"I don't believe you," Joel shouted.

"Me too," Christopher said, staring wide-eyed at I now weeping
mother.

"Why?"  Mat asked, his little voice filled with pai He was growing into
an intelligent, sensitive little ma He was already years ahead of boys
his age in read ii and writing, and nearly a half a fool taller than
oth boys las age.  He would be as tall as Malcolm.  ;' "Why?"  he asked
again.

"Is she mad at us?"  ;

Christopher buried his head between her breasts.;

Alicia burst into sobs.  foel put his hands over his ca and said,
"Alicia can't go, she gotta play piano with a today."  Joel was still a
small, frail child who suffen from allergies.  A speck of dust could
set him coughi) and sneezing for hours, something Malcolm couldi bear
to witness.

Mal climbed off Alicia's lap and came over to when stood, like a toy
soldier looking up at his genezi "Why?"  he shouted at the top of his
voice.

"You boys are too young to understand," I sat putting calm and
compassion in my eyes and voib "When you grow older, these things will
make sense i you.  If it were up to me, Alicia could stay here for eve
But your father doesn't want her to."

Suddenly, Mal's little face crumpled up and tea poured down his
cheeks.

"I hate hiB4" he shouted.

"I hate him!  I hate him He sever lets us haw anything we want!"

Joel was so hysterical by now.  He was coughing uncontrollably, and
Alicia began to stroke his back, desperately trying to calm him down,
as her own son remained buried in her breast.

"Please, please," he choked, "can't we go with her?"

"No," I said sternly.

"I'm your mother.  And you belong herewith me."

"But what about Christopher?"  Mal asked.

"Christopher will stay here for a time, until Alicia gets settled in
her new house," I explained.  At the sound of his own name, Christopher
suddenly looked up at me and just as quickly back at his mother.

"Mommy," he cried, his little voice squeaking with terror.

"I'm not coming with you?"

"No, my darling, no," Alicia cried.

"But I'll be coming back for you soon.  And then we'll be together
always.  It won't be for long, Christopher my darling, my boy.  And
you'll have Olivia to take care of you.

And Mal and Joel to play with."  Then she turned to my boys.

"Please, please, remember that I love all of you, that I will always
love you.  In my heart I'll always be with you, watching you practice
the piano, watching you make your beautiful artistic drawings, and When
you go to sleep at night, I'll be kissing you in my dreams."

The next day I informed the servants of Alicia's coming departure.  I
could see the unhappinessin their faces when I told them.  As I came
down the stairwell, I overheard Mary Stuart and Mrs.  Steiner talking
in the dining room as they prepared the table for dinner.  I stood just
outside the doorway, listening.

"The light is going from this house," Mrs.  Steiner said.

"Believe me."  ;

Garden of Shadows : "Fm so sorry to see her go," Mary said.

"She alws has a smile for us, unlike the tall one."

So that's how they distinguish between us, I thougl The tall one."

"H you ask me, the tall one got her way.  She did want young Mrs.
Foxworth here from the start a probably worked to get rid of her the
day Garia Foxworth died.  Can't blame her though, I suppose wouldn't
want a beautiful young woman Like that abe for my husband to see day in
and day out.  Especially i looked like her," Mrs.  Steiner said,
raising her voice I emphasis.

"That's for certain," Mary said.  I was sure she v smiling when she
said it.  I could hear the smile in t voice.

Good riddance to you all, I thought, and decided if I would inform them
sooner that their services were longer required.  I called them into
the foyer o afternoon: Mary, Mrs.  Steiner, Mrs.  Wilson, a Lucas.  I
sat in one of the high-back chairs, my arms f on the arms, my head
against the back, my hair tigh woven up in a bun on the top of my head,
looking me like a crown.  They gathered around and faced me, be fear
and curiosity in their eyes.  I was like a queen abe to address her
subjects.

"As you know," I began, "Mrs.  Garland Foxwortt leaving Foxworth Hall
next month.  She will be gone i some time, but her return here will
only be long enough to get her son and then she will leave again.
Permanei ly," I added.

"I have given everything great thou^ and I have decided that we will no
longer be needi your services."

Mrs.  Wilson turned white.  Mrs.  Steiner nodded, I Garden of Shadows
eyes small, as if she had been expecting something like this.  Lucas
and Mary Stuart looked frightened.

"Our services?  You mean you're letting us all go?"

Mary asked incredulously.

"Yes.  However, I have decided that all of you will receive two years'
salary as severance pay," I added, making sure they understood it was
my generosity that provided them with such a large settlement.

"When do we leave?"  Mrs.  Steiner asked.  She dressed her words in
ice.

"You are to leave the same day Mrs.  Garland Foxworth leaves."

The final preparation was to move Alicia out of the Swan Room and to
store all her trinkets and wardrobe that she wouldn't be needing during
her confinement; I supervised her packing, lording over her and
approving and disapproving of every object, every garment she wished to
take with her to the north wing.

"There is no need for you to take along your formal dresses," I said as
I saw her press a frilly blue frock to her breast as she stood before
the mirror.

"You won't be going to any parties for a while and you won't be able to
have your clothing cleaned and washed as regularly as you have it done
now.  I'm going to have to do whatever you can't wash for yourself in
the sink and bathtub, so let's not take one item that's not
necessary."

She looked down at her gowns sadly.  I couldn't believe the array of
clothing she possessed.  The frivolity on which she had wasted
Garland's money.  Did she think she was a walking fashion magazine that
had to change her entire wardrobe every season?  It was Garden of
Shadows profligate spending and vanity such as this that brouj about
what had happened to Anda.

"But it makes me feel good to look good," AUi said.

"You won't be able to fit in most of it soon anyway I added.

"But I have no maternity clothes left, Olivia.  I ga them all to
charity after Oiristopher was born.  Wl will I use for maternity
clothes?"

"I'll give you some of mine."

"But yours are so ... so big, Olivia."

"What difference does it make what you look like that room, Alida? Only
I will see you.  You're i dressing to draw the attention of men
anymore, des All that matters is that you are warm and comfo able."

The image of her lost in my maternity dress suddenly made me smile. Now
she would know wha) felt like not to see beauty looking back at her
from t mirror.  Now she, too, would be awkward and uni pealing.  And
what was more fitting than that she wt my maternity clothing, I
thought.  After all, she w having what was going to be my child., "Of
course," I added, "I will be wearing mat em clothing also."

She looked up at me as if she were shocked.  Coi this not have occurred
to her?  Did she think I woe move about the community as I was and then
suddei announce that I had given birth to a child?  How sim|j and naive
she could be!  There was no conniving,:

deceit in her, even when it was necessary for I survival.  ' "Oh," she
said, finally understanding.  She tooh back at her fine dresses and
blouses and skirts.  In the end I reduced everything she would take to
the north wing to what would fit into one trunk and two suitcases.

Sadness reigned in Foxworth Hall the day Alida made her false
departure, it was a gray, rainy day, the sky crying along with the
children; Although it was the first day of summer, a cold winter chill
filled Boxworth Hall.  We had to keep lights on and close windows
tightly.

The servants, who had been packing their own things, stood in the
downstairs as ABcia descended with me behind her, carrying her
suitcase.  I had never seen her look so small and gray, like a sad
little mouse.  I had insisted the children remain in the nursery: I did
not want the histrionics of an overly emotional farewell.

Christopher had been barely consplable for days, and my boys, too, were
on a short tether.  But I had insisted that Malcolm be present at this
painful little charade.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I handed Malcolm the suitcase
and he grasped it awkwardly, annoyed, but afraid to cross me at this
juncture.

Alicia's eyes filled with tears as she came upon the farewell
gathering, for she was truly bidding everyone good-bye.  She looked
about the great foyer like one who knew it would be some time before
she would see it again.  Her act was very convincing because it was
only half an act.  She would see it when she returned, but it would be
only a short glimpse on her way up to the north wing.

She went to embrace Mrs.  Steiner, but I grasped her arm and ushered
her toward the awaiting car.

"There is no time for sentiment," I said.

Suddenly, she felt limp in my arms.

"Please, pleas let me say good-bye to Christopher one more time, she
pleaded.

Malcolm whispered in my ear.

"Must I stay am witness this hysteria?"

"Put her in the cab, Malcolm," I ordered.

Alicia had to be half carried, half dragged to the cai As soon as the
suitcase was locked in the trunk, rapped on the window and ordered: the
driver to be off The tires spun in the wet mud and the car lurched t
life.  Behind roe, I heard the front door fly open and th boys
screaming "Wait, wait" as they hurtled down th steps, yanking
themselves free of the servants' restraining arms.  Mal led the pack,
holding Joel by one han and Christopher by the other, practically
dragging ther along.  They chased the car for some time, screamin and
crying.

"Get your sons, Malcolm," I ordered, "all of them,"

The Prisoner and the Warden that SAME NIGHT, AFTER ALL THE SERVANTS
HAD LEFT, Alida returned, The cab drove up in the darkness.  Clouds
still hung over the sky, blocking out the moon and the stars.  It was
as if there were no light left in all the world.

Malcolm and I were waiting in a front salon, just the way we had been
waiting for his father to arrive the day he had brought Alida here. The
boys had cried themselves to sleep, all three of them cuddled together
against the loneliness of Alida's departure.  Truly, I wanted to
comfort them, to be a mother to little Chris, to be a comfort to my own
sons.  I wanted them-all to love me the way they loved AMda.  Oh, I
knew I couldn't be lighthearted and gay as she was; I didn't know how
to romp and jump and play siBy rhyming games.  But I loved them well,
in my own way, and I would bring them up to be strong, moral young
men..

When they grew older, they would appreciate the values I had bequeathed
them.

Garden of Shadows "What time is it?"  Malcolm asked.

I pointed across the room, not saying a word.  The house was quiet,
still, except for the sound of the ticking grandfather clock and the
evening winds winding their way in and out of the shutters, threading
through the cracks between windows.  Malcolm snapped his paper, folding
it neatly to check the stock market columns.

We had been sitting there for two hours, drowning in our own silence.
If either of us took a deep breath, the other would look up, surprised.
In fact, Malcolm's only comment during the last half hour concerned one
of his stocks that had appreciated ten points.  I imagined he was
making the comment to emphasize how mui" better he could dp with my
money than I was doing, Then I saw the headlights of the cab tear an
open ii in the darkness and pull up in front of the hous Malcolm didn't
move.

"She's back," I said.  He grunted.

"You'll take h trunk upstairs."  He looked up, surprised.

"Well, w did you think would do it?  Lucas is gone, or did y forget we
dismissed the servants today and there we be a new driver until
tomorrow."

I got up and went to the front door.  Alicia emergg| from the cab
slowly, reluctantly, anticipating w" awaited her in Foxworth Hall.  I
could see that shei exhausted from the traveling and the tension, I
driver took her trunk and suitcases out.  :

"Leave them," I said to the driver quickly.  It ^ impossible to remain
outside long.

"My husband nfl take them in."  ^ Malcolm had appeared behind me on the
stepaj took Alicia's smaller suitcase.

2i2 Garden of Shadows "How is my Christopher?"  she asked the minute
she stepped from the car.

"Does he miss me?"

"Christopher is my responsibility now," I said curtly

"He's in bed, where he belongs."  I took her arm and led her up the
front stairs.

"Go directly to the north wing," I told her, "and move as quietly as
possible.  You must not wake the boys."

She didn't respond.  She walked like a condemned criminal, pausing only
when she passed close to Malcolm who was on his way to get her trunk
and larger suitcase.

Stepping softly, we both floated like ghosts through the silent, dimly
lit foyer.  The loudest sound was the rustle of Alicia's dress when we
turned the corner at the rotunda and headed quickly into the north
wing, moving down hallways and passing the many empty, lonely rooms of
Foxworth Hall.  She paused at the doorway of the room at the end of the
corridor.  I came up behind her impatiently.  Did she think she was the
only pne who was tense and upset?

"If you don't go ip and go in quickly," I said, "this will become even
more difficult for you."

/ She looked at me hatefully for the fast time.  Of course, it wouldn't
be the last.

"I was thinking all the way to the station, on the train, and all the
way back," she said.

"Thinking that you might be enjoying all this."  Her eyes narrowed.

t- "Enjoying this?"  I stepped to the right, my shadow I- draping her
in my darkness.  She cowered back as if she I could feel my weight on
her.

"Enjoying having to 'pretend that your baby is my baby?  Enjoying the
'knowledge that my husband has been unfaithful to me, l^of once, but
many times?  Enjoying having to dismiss Garden of Shadows toy al and
faithful servants who I have spent y training?  Enjoying lying to my
boys and to your ;

watching him swallow his tears and unhappiness i he was exhausted and
had to be put to bed?"  My v was thin, nearly hysterical.

Her eyes widened, and then her face crumpled, lips quivering.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It's just that I'm ..."

"We can't stand out here and talk with me hol< this suitcase," I
said.

"Malcolm is coming up with trunk."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry," she repeated, opening door.

I had left the lamp on the table between the two I lit.  It cast a weak
yellowish glow over the pondei dark furniture.  My one donation to
warmth and bes was the red Oriental rug with gold fringe.  It would 1
alleviate the dreariness in the room, which was li yet confining
because of all the furniture crowded i it.  I had found two paintings
in the attic that I thoi fit the circumstances and hung them on the
walls 1 were papered in cream with white flocking.  One grotesque
demons chasing naked people in uni ground caverns, and the other had
unearthly mons devouring pitiful souls in hell.  Both paintings bright
red colors.

She went directly to the bed on the right and bega take off her coat.
We both turned as Malcolm drop the trunk to the right of the door.  He
looked at Al and then he looked at me.  My glare was enougl hurry
him.

"I'll get the other suitcase," he said.  Although was a strong man, the
indignity of having to carry luggage up the spiral staircase and down
the hallway Garden of Shadows this room wore on him.  He was breathing
hard and sweating.

"Hurry," I said, intensifying his indignation.  He grunted and was
gone.

"How will I eat up here?"  Alicia asked.

"I will bring up your meals every day, after we have eaten ours.  That
way the servants won't be as suspicious."

"But the cook..."

"There will be no cook until you are gone  I will be the cook."  She
tilted her head and widened her eyes in surprise.

"Don't look at me like that," I said.

"I used to cook all the tim for my father."

"I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't cook; I was just surprised
that you wanted to do it."  It occurred to me that all the time she had
lived here, she never mentioned her own ability to cook.  Her mother
must have spoiled her, I thought, never giving her the opportunity to
work in the kitchen and learn anything.

And then Garland came along and put the icing on the cake.  She didn't
have to lift a finger to do anything for herself.

"There isn't much choice about it now, is there?"

She looked away.

"Is there?"  I repeated.

"No, I suppose not."

"Of course, I won't be able to make special meals.

This can't be one of those fancy restaurants you and Garland were
always going to," I snapped.  I went to the two front windows and
closed the curtains more tightly.

"I didn't expect special meals," she retorted.  It was beginning
already--she was losing her softness, her gentle look, her warm coat of
innocence.

"The meals win be nourishing, considering the condition you are in.
That's what's most important, isn't i She nodded quickly.

"Oh, Olivia, what will I do here?"  she asked, loot around.

"I will positively be bored to death."

"I'B bring up your magazines.  The servants w< know or care whether or
not they are for me, and I try to visit with you every opportunity I
can get."

looked grateful for that.

"I would like a radio or a Victrola," "Out of the question.  Such
noise, even in here, mi be heard."  I widened my eyes for emphasis,
feelinj though I were talking to a child.

"But what if I took it upstairs, into the attic?"

pleaded.

I thought about it.

"Yes, I suppose that would be all right.  I'll get ye radio and a
Victrola.  Your pile of records is ;

downstairs.  No one would want to listen to th anyway."  Neither
Malcolm nor I liked the new j music she endlessly listened to, and it
occurred to that we should not have left them behind whei packed her
things.  Fortunately, none of the old I vants noticed or cared.

"Thank you, Olivia," she said.  She had aire:

begun to understand that I could grant her U pleasures and little
happiness and I could take it a as well.  i I helped her start
unpacking and putting clothing i the dresser.  Malcolm returned with
the larger suit ca After he dropped it on the floor, he stood in.

doorway looking in at us.

"That will be all, Malcolm," I said, dismissing hio I would dismiss any
servant.  His face blanched and bit down on his lower lip.  I saw the
rage in his eyes!

Garden of Shadows sensed the frustration he felt.  He hesitated.

"Did you want to say anything before you go?  Something apologetic?"

"No.  You seem to be saying everything that needs to be said," he
added, pivoted, and stalked out of the room.  I heard his footsteps
pounding the hallway floor as he departed.  When I turned back to
Alida, I saw she was staring at me.

"He has already been quite clearly informed that he must stay away from
you during your .. . your stay here," I said.

"Good," she said, a sincere look of relief on her face.

"However, I am not naive enough to believe what he tells me.  I see the
way he looks at you."  She looked toward the doorway as though Malcolm
were still standing there and she could verify my impressions.

"Surely he..  ."  < "You must understand, my dear, that you are quite
vulnerable alone in this room, far away from anyone else, the sounds
muffled by the thickness in the walls.

You can't shout out for help; you can't expose yourself.

Where could you flee?"  I held out my hands and turned from one wall to
the next.

"Up into the attic?  That would be worse."

"But you would know if anything ..."

"During the night, after I fall asleep, he could prowl these dark
halls, moving over the floors barefooted, and if he came inhere, you
wouldn't shout and bring attention to yourself.  Imagine if Christopher
discovered you were hidden up here," I said.

"I'll keep the door locked," she said quickly.

"You kept a door locked before, my dear.  Locking doors in Fbxworth
Hall does not keep Malcohn Neal Fbxworthout."

"What do I do?"  She looked frantic.

Garden of Shadows "As I told you when we discussed all this, you mi
change your appearance, make yourself unattractive him, not remind him
of anyone," I sneered.  Alk stared at me.  I seized up her hair.

"I'm sorry, but the is no other way."

"Are you sure?  Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

She began crying softly.

"Sit at the table," I commanded her.  She stared the chair as if she
were about to step onto the gallon and then walked to it and sat down,
her hands in h lap, her eyes flooded with tears.

I took the large scissors from my sweater pocket ai stepped up behind
her.  First, I unpinned her ha freeing the strands and stroking them
down so they 1 softly exposed.  They did feel so silky and pleasing the
touch.  I could imagine Malcolm stroking her hi for hours as he dreamt
beside her.  My hair, no matt what I did to it, never felt this good,
and never on during our sexual relations I could scarcely call the
lovemaking did he even touch my hair.

I grasped a section in my left fist and held it up taut!

She winced because of how roughly I tugged.  Then closed the blades of
the scissors around her tresses ai began to chop away, cutting her hair
as close to h scalp as I could, deliberately cutting it unevenly so'
would grow in awkwardly.  As I cut away, the tea continued to flow down
her cheeks, but she made i sound.  I placed all the cut strands neatly
in a silk sha4 wrapped them up, and tied a knot in it.

After I was finished, she pressed her palms again her scalp and uttered
a single, mournful cry.  :

"You know it will grow back," I said, making til voice as sympathetic
as I could.  She turned and look!

Garden of Shadows up at me with those hateful eyes again, but I smiled
at her.  The haircut had changed her appearance radically.

She looked more like a boy now: the crown of her beauty had been
removed.  It was as if I had snuffed out the fire behind her eyes.

"If Malcolm should look at you, he won't see the same things now, will
he?"

She didn't respond.  She simply stared at herself in the mirror.  After
a moment she spoke more to her image than to me.

"This is all like a bad dream," she said.

"In the morning I win awaken and Garland will be beside me.

It's all a dream."  She spun around, her face dressed in a wild, insane
smile.

"Isn't it?  Isn't it all a dream, Olivia?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear.  You had better not sft there pretending.
Tomorrow morning you will wake up in this room and you will have to
face the reality of what is and what win be.  Most of us have got to do
that every day of our lives.  The stronger you are, the less dependent
you are on fantasy."

She nodded reluctantly, a look of total defeat on her face.  I could
almost read her thoughts.

"Garland would not be happy it has all come to this, I know. 
Christopher and I were the light of his life.  And to think, my son
sleeps in the same house and must not know I am only a short distance
from him. It's too cruely too cruel."

Her tears began again.

"Nevertheless, it is what must be.  I shall go now," I said.

"I will be up here earlier than usual tomorrow only because the new
servants aren't arriving until late in the morning."  I picked up the
bundle other cut hair and started to leave.

"Olivia," she called.

Garden of Shadows

"Yes, my dear?"  I turned back to her.

"Please, can't I keep a lock; just one small lock of'

hair?"

Benevolently, I handed her a bright chestnut cut "You don't hate me,"
she said, "do you?"  I saw fear in her eyes.

"Of course I don't hate you, Alida.  I hate only w you have become, as
I am sure you hate your se Then I opened the door and stepped out.  I
close quietly behind me and turned the key in the k snapping it shut.
The sound of her sobbing died awa the darkness of the hallway as I
turned off the lig The shadows held at bay rushed in, dropping a wal
blackness between Alicia and her sleeping child," would wait for her in
the world of light and life with I moved swiftly down the hall until I
came to rotunda.  From the sounds below, I knew that Mak was still
downstairs, probably in the library at his d I imagined him sitting
there staring hatefully at doorway, maybe in expectation of my
arrival.

But I had no more interest in conversation with tonight.  AH that had
to be done was done.  I was i myself.  I started for my bedroom, but
stopped ai doorway of the trophy room.  Something occur re me,
something I found deliciously vengeful and sai ing.  I opened the door,
snapped on the Hghts, and to the desk behind which Malcolm often sat
whe came up here to be by himself.  I put the shawl with Alida's cut
hair at the center of the desk untied the knot so that the pile of
beautiful che strands lay open and exposed.

Then I turned, went back to the door, looked bi the sight of her
amputated hair on his desk, smil myself, and snapped off the lights.  I
stood there Garden of Shadows few moments listening to the sounds of
the house.

Tonight every creak seemed amplified.  The wind wrapped itself around
the great mansion, whirling madly, tying it in a chilled rope.  It
would take days of warm summer sunlight to defrost the icy wall over
this house, I thought.  And throughout that summer, Alieia would sit in
a dark, stuffy room below the great attic, waiting for the birth of a
child she had not wanted and would not be a mother to.  It was truly a
prison sentence and I was truly a warden.

I did not cherish the role, but Malcolm had cast me in it and I knew
the only way to defeat him was to perform it far better than be ever
could have expected.  He would live to regret this night, I thought, to
regret what he had done to me and what he would make me do to her..  .
; .. .. .. . , .  - , I went to my bedroom quickly and rushed myself to
sleep, which had become the only true escape from the madness of
Fbxworth Hall, something that was ironically true for both of us,
Alieia and me.

The weeks passed as I had predicted they would pass for
Alieia---painfully, slowly.  Every day, the minute I entered the room,
she begged me to bring her Christopher.  -.;..

"If not here," she pleaded, "at least let him stand outside my window
so I can peek at him, see him--I can't stand this any longer."

"Christopher has finally adjusted to your leaving.

Why upset him now?  If you really loved him, Alida, you'd let things
be."

"Let it be?  I'm his mother.  My heart is breaking.  The days only seem
to get longer.  A week in here is like a year!"  ... , : .: : .  :, - .
,.  , Garden of Shadows In the mornings she complained about being nai
ated.  In the afternoons she wept for Christopher

was always tired, and more often than not, I would her lying in bed,
staring up at the ceiling.  Her once i cheeks paled, and even though I
insisted she everything I brought to her, her face began to take <
gaunt look.  After two months shut away in that ro dark circles formed
around her eyes.

She usually kept a shawl over her head.  After I i come in a dozen
times and found her wearing it e time, I asked her why.

"Because I can't stand the sight of myself with hair tike this every
time I pass in front of the mirrc she said.

"Why don't you just cover the mirror," I told he knew every woman had
vanity, but I also knew 1 women tike her had much, much more.  Despite
the l that she had no cosmetics and her hair had b chopped away, I
imagined that she still sat before mirror pretending she was back in
her beautiful b room suite preparing for an evening out with Garia or
planning what she was going to do with herself o her hair did grow back
and she was free of this pla Eventually, she took my suggestion and
drape sheet over the mirror.  The dissipation of her bea was a part of
harsh reality that she would now rat avoid.  However, when I walked in
with her tray of it and 1 saw the sheet there, I didn't remark about
it, She looked up at me from her bed, her eyes bri with tears of
boredom and anger.  She no longer w the shawl; there was no reason for
it since the mir was covered.

"I thought you had forgotten my dinner," she Garden of Shadows rage
caused her to pronounce the consonants with exaggeration and her voice
dropped in tone, almost sounding manly.

"Dinner?  This is your lunch, AH cia I said.  The realization brought
surprise and horror to her face.

"Only lunch?"  She looked at the small clock housed in an ivory
cathedral on the dresser.

"Only lunch?"  she repeated.  She sat up slowly and looked at me with
frightened, frozen blue eyes.  I knew that she had come to see me as
her jailer.  Whenever she thought of something new to do, she had to
ask my permission.

Her life was no longer her own.

"How is my Christopher?  Does he miss me terribly?

Does he ask about me every day?"  she inquired, hanging on my
responses.

"Sometimes," I said.

"The boys help to distract him."

She nodded, pathetically trying to conjure up his image in her mind.  I
thought of him myself, beautiful golden-haired Christopher, his face
regaining its happy joy after the first few months of sadness at being
separated from his mother.  His eyes sparkled once again as I read him
his favorite story every night before bed.  Truly, I was beginning to
think of him as one of my own; He and my two boys played so well
together in the nursery.  Mal and Joel adored him.  He seemed to carry
all the sunshine of his mother in her happier days.

But that sunny joy wasn't seductive and lustful, it was bright and
open, compassionate and innocent.  He was more affectionate than either
of my children.  Some times I feared it was because both Mal and Joel
had Malcolm's blood in them.  Every morning he would run to me
screaming, "I want hundreds of kisses.  I want hundreds of' hugs
o-weee-a!"  Only yesterday, when!

Garden of Shadows put him down for his nap, his beautiful blue eyes k
up at me and he asked, "Can I caH you Me sometimes?"  Of course I did
not tell Alida any of Instead, I kept the conversation always focused
01 "You look unclean today, Aliria.  You should better care of
yourself," I said, reprimanding her She turned abruptly on me, speaking
thi clenched teeth.

"I'm this way because I live from day to d this .. . this closet."

"This is bigger than a closet."

"And the only sunlight I get to see is the sunligh comes through the
windows here and upstairs.  Y< day I sat in the rays until the sun
moved on and Ie in shadows.  I feel like a flower hungry for the noi
ment of the sun, a flower withering in a closet.  S< will be dried and
dead and you can press me int pages of a book," she said, her voice a
mixture of i and self-pity.

"You won't be in here that much longer," I sau won't do you any good to
sit and chum up frustration day in and day out," I added in a matt fact
tone of voice.  That only; infuriated her more "Maybe I should go
outside for a quick secret i You can take the boys away from the house
and "But, Alicia, the servants; How could I expli they saw you?  From
where would I tell them you g Who would I tell them you were?  And if
the boys 1 about it..  . don't you see?  What you are asld impossible,
just impossible."  She nodded.

"I do sorry for you," I said.

"I hope you see that.  DoA She looked up at me with scrutinizing eyes
aftdl nodded.

"No one is enjoying this, least of all n 8| Garden of Shadows thinking
about the future and you will survive the present," I advised. Suddenly
a new idea came to her.

"Send all the servants away," she said, her face filled with the
excitement of a new and, as she considered it clever idea.

"Give them a holiday, just for a weekend.

That's all I would need, one or two days of fresh air.

Please."

"You're speaking ridiculous thoughts.  I would advise you to get a hold
of yourself," I told her, gathering my own resolve.

"You will only get yoursetf sick and maybe lose the baby.  Now, feed
yourself and the child within you," I added, and left the room before
she could say another thing about it.

When I returned to bring her her dinner that night, she did seem
changed.  She had bathed and dressed herself in a pretty blue chemise.
However, she was sitting on her bed as if she were in the back of a car
and on a journey.

"Oh," she said when I came in, "here we are at the restaurant.  What
shall we have to eat?"  She was pretending to be in a car with
Christopher.  I was amazed, but I said nothing.  ; , She looked at me
with expectation, hopeful that I would become part of the fantasy.  I
put the tray down on the table and watched as Alicia continued to
create an imaginary situation for herself, getting up and approaching
the table as if it were a table in a restaurant.  She did look
brighter, happier.

Alicia referred to me as she would refer to a waitress in a restaurant.
Suddenly, I realized there was some thing strange about it all.  She
wasn't pretending |yst for the fun of it; she was actually experiencing
this journey.

Garden of Shadows She rattled on and on as if I weren't there, or as
if l| were really some stranger.  I didn't like it, but I didn*l|

blow what to do about it.  :i| She dismissed me by saying, "You can
take thosei now," referring to the dirty dinner dishes.  | She began to
feed her imaginary Christopher, telling him that after they left the
restaurant, they would driv<| to the park, where they would see animals
and go o<| the merry-go-round.  I understood that the attic was to be
envisioned as the park.  She was wearing the nicest oj all the dresses
I had permitted her to bring.  Hei stomach was not quite swollen enough
to prevent it and she had torn a strip off a beige slip and tied it
like,

ribbon in her short strands of hair.

"Are you all right?"  I asked her.  She interrupte herself.

"Pardon me, Christopher," she said to the empi chair beside her.

"The waitress wants to know som< thing.  What was it, waitress?"  she
asked, singing tl question.  I I pulled in the corners of my mouth and
straightene<| my back.  She was smiling madly.  Did she think I wa|
going along with this charade?  I didn't repeat m| question.  Instead,
I turned and carried the tray o|

dishes to the door.  | "She said they are out of ice cream Alicia told
hell imaginary son.

"But don't worry.  Perhaps we'll see al ice cream parlor at the park,
and we'll never come bad to this restaurant again, will we?"

I heard her laugh as I closed the door behind me Madness, I thought,
and for the first time since she ha' been brought back to Fbxworth
Hall, I couldn't wait to her to leave again.

" '1' '-" - * ;"*" -"' " li ' Garden of Shadows The pretending
continued.  The room at the end of the north wing became Alicia's world
of illusions.

Sometimes when I entered, she and her imaginary son were in a car;
sometimes they were on the ferry.  A few times they were up in the
attic.  She was playing her Victrola and they had supposedly gone to
see a puppet show.  She made two hand puppets with her socks and used
an armoire as the puppet stage.

Every time I entered, she called me something else.

Either I was the waiter, the ticket taker at the puppet show, an
engineer on a ferry boat..  . whatever; but never was I Olivia.  I no
longer saw any fear in her face when I arrived.  She looked at me with
a smile of anticipation on her face, waiting to see how I would react
to her new inventions.

It went on and on like this, and then one day I came in and found that
she had taken the sheet off the mirror.  It no longer bothered her to
look at herself and what she had become because she did not see that
image.  She saw whatever she imagined.  With a brush in her hand she
was standing in front of the mirror and stroking the air as if there
were strands down around her shoulders.

The ironic thing about all this was that her complex ion returned to
its former peaches-and-cream richness.

I knew that some women flourished during pregnancy.

I had not been one of those women, but Alicia had remained quite
beautiful during her pregnancy with Christopher.  The same thing was
true of this pregnancy, now aided by her illusions.

"What are you doing?"  I asked her, and she turned away from the
mirror.  She hadn't heard me enter.

"Oh, Olivia.  Garland said Venus herself couldn't Garden of Shadows
have more beautiful hair than mine.  Can you im Men can be so
extravagant with their flattery don't know what it can do to a woman. I
let him Why not?  Whom does it harm?  Certainly not V She laughed/ but
her laugh was as rich and as full laugh used to be when Garland was
alive.

She is going mad, I thought.  Being locked i pregnant, she is being
driven into insanity.  But it my fault, I concluded.  It was another
sin for Mak bear.  Perhaps he had known this would happe;

haps he had expected it.  She would give birth baby and he would have
the child.  But she wouli Unstable, he couldn't turn over the large
fortune In fact, she might have to be committed.  He have it all--the
child, the money, and good rid ds Alicia.  We would adopt
Christopher.

Such a scenario enraged me.  Once again M Neal Foxworth would get his
way, defeating eve even me.  I couldn't allow it.

"Alicia, Garland is dead.  He couldn't have to that now.  You must stop
this, stop all of this ridi pretending before it drives you insane.  Do
yo me?  Do you understand what I am saying?"  She there, her smile
unchanged.  She heard only wt wanted to hear.

"There's nothing he won't buy for me, noth won't do for me," she
said.

"It's terrible, I kno all I need do is mention something I see or wa
the next day, the very next day, he will h delivered.  I'm so spoiled,
but I can't help it.  ;

"Anyway," she went on, turning back to the and brushing the air,
"Garland says he likes time.  He says it gives him pleasure to spoil
fl e --i Garden of Shadows no right to take that pleasure away from
him.  Isn't it wonderful?"

"I've brought you the maternity clothes, Alicia," I said.  I thought
that if I confronted her with that, I might be able to snap her back to
reality quickly.  I placed the pile of clothes on' the bed.

"Go through and sort them out.  You can't wear those things any
longer."

She didn't turn around.

"Alicia!"

"Last night Garland said, he said .. . Alicia, don't ask me for the
moon or I will go mad trying to get it for you."  She laughed.

"Should I ask him for the moon, Olivia?"

"The maternity clothing, Alicia," I repeated.  She continued to ignore
me.  Finally, I left the room, expecting she would confront the
clothing herself and eventually realize what had to be done.

That evening, however, I lay there in my bed thinking about her insane
ramblings.  Of course, her pretending would have to be taking place in
the present tense, I thought; but there was something about the way she
referred to Garland that was more than just madness, it was eerie, as
if he indeed had been visiting her nightly.

Suddenly a frightening thought occurred to me.

What if Malcolm had disobeyed my orders and visited her?  And what if
she had looked at him and called him Garland?  What if he were taking
advantage of her madness and going to her in the middle of the night
after I had gone to sleep?  She would not realize that the nan she
embraced was not Garland but Malcolm.  The Possibility kept me from
sleeping.  Sometime during the night I thought I heard footteps in the
hallway.  By the time Hooked out, Malcolm

Garden of Shadows could have very well slipped around the corner in
hall and gone on to the north wing.  I went back to bed, put on my robe
and slippers, and left my n very quietly.  I was going to go to the
north wing merely open her door, but something better occus to me.  If
he were in there, I would not want to give the opportunity to get out
of her bed.  He could heal coming down the hallway or move quickly
before I turned the key in the lock.

I went down to the front entrance to the attic ins to I put on the
small light illuminating the stairway, el the door softly behind me,
confident that nei Malcolm nor any of the servants would hear me,
started up the stairway.  My intention was to go thrq the attic and
down the small stairway that opened;

Alida's room.  I would watch them for a while in bed and then I would
confront them.

But when I was in the attic, vaguely lit by the si stairway light, the
light suddenly went out and I plunged into complete darkness.  I
hesitated, not I whether I should go forward or retreat.  Driven by
Original intention, I went on, groping my way caref through the
attic.

I thought I remembered it weD enough to make way in the darkness.  Then
I heard loud scampering to the right.  Panic rose in my chest.  I was
sure it rate, rats I could imagine running over my feet, cam me to
fall, running over my face and body.Suddefl felt as if I might faint.
The scurrying seemed to whii my head.  I had to get out of there!

I turned abruptly into a person standing there in shadows!  I barely
subdued my scream, when I re nized an old dress form, but I had jumped
back abruptly that I tripped over a trunk and fell again Garden of
Shadows rack of old clothing, sending it toppling to the floor.

Trying to regain my footing, I ran my hands over the floor.  I touched
something furry!  A rat!  My panic rose and I rushed forward on my
hands and knees, knocking over a stack of old books.  It was so hot, I
could barely breathe.

I got to my feet, but 1 had lost my sense of direction.

Everywhere I turned seemed to be a dead end.  The darkness closed in
around me, tightening its hold on me until I was unable to move to the
right or to the left.

Terror froze me.  My feet felt leaden, my legs tied together.  I willed
myself to move, but I couldn't take a single step.  I began to sob
silently.

The rats went wild, rushing over furniture, in and out of trunks and
armoires.  The entire attic seemed to be alive with hideous beasts.  I
imagined the shadowy forms of Malcolm's ancestors scratching their way
out of the walls, awakened by my turmoil.  This was a house that
tolerated no weakness or fear.  When they smelted it on you, they
sought to destroy you.

I turned to the nearest wall and began to feel my way down it in the
direction of what I hoped was the front stairway.  Frantically I bumped
into old furniture and bird cages and tripped over trunks.  My hands
clutched things that turned into pulsating, blood-warm creatures, even
though somewhere I knew I was touching only articles of clothing or the
arms of old chairs.  Then my hair got caught by the tiny opened door of
a birdcage and the cage came falling toward me.  When I caught the pole
in my hands, it felt Bke a long, dark snake.  Everything here had
become alive and sinister.

I don't know how long it took me to reach the stairway.  It took all my
control to calm myself so that I Garden of Shadows could continue on,
but finally I recognized the to| the stairway and made my way down.

As soon as I opened the door and stepped back the hallway, I felt so
happy I wanted to cry.  I rus back down the corridor to the south wing
and bedroom.  When I confronted myself in the mure looked like a wild
madwoman.  My hair was dish eve my robe streaked.  There were streaks
along my fac well, and my hands were black from the dust and di knew
that never could I ever go back up and into attic again, I would go
through it many time!

nightmares, but just the thought of opening the c and starting up the
stairs threw me into a panic.  ;

After I cleaned up, I returned to bed.  poralongt I just lay there,
grateful for the warmth and comfoi my room.  Then I remembered my
original purp Not long afterward, I was sure I heard footsteps in
hallway again."  I rushed up and went to the door looked to me like
Malcolm had just entered his < bedroom.  I listened for the click of
his door, but he nothing.

I hadn't trapped and confronted him as I had ho to do.  I bad trapped
and confronted myself up in j old, terrifying attic filled with the
twisted past of Fbxworths.  It would forever taunt me now, I thou| This
house has a way of protecting its own.  It cloa Malcolm in silence as
be stole through the hall.  I sure of it.  The walls knew the truth,
only they would speak to me.

I hesitated a moment and then closed the door went back to my bed.  I
didn't fall asleep until mon and then I was abruptly awoken by
Malcolm's to arrogant footsteps as he made his way down to ore fast.  ,
, , - ,. ^ , ,.:;, , - ,.-..,. ^ ; ^;232

Garden of Shadows When I joined him, I tried to read his face to see
if there were any clues as to whether or not he had visited Alicia
during the night.  All this time he bad kept to his word and not asked
me a thing about her, pretending well that she was no longer here.

He sat at his end of the table looking at the morning paper, ignoring
my arrival, as usual.  After the maid poured my coffee, I spoke to
him.

"Did you hear anything unusual last night?"  I asked him.

He put his paper down, a quizzical look on his face.

"Unusual?  What do you mean by unusual?"  he asked as though it were a
foreign word.

"Like the sound of someone walking through the north wing?"  I said. He
stared at me a moment and then with his inscrutable eyes he leaned
forward so he could speak sotto voce.

"The door is locked, isn't it?  She can't get out and about, can
she?"

"Of course not.  But that doesn't mean someone can't get in, does it?"
I replied, my voice as low as his, but sharper in tone.

"Now what are you implying?"  he asked, sitting back abruptly.

"Have you violated our agreement?"  I demanded.

"I assure you, I do not need to spend my time sneaking about this
house.  I would hope you, too, had more to do than go skulking about
watching for some .  some violation, as you put it."

"I don't have to skulk about.  There is only one place in this
house-that concerns me right now," I said, feeling my face tighten.  He
looked away from my sharp gaze and shook his head.

"Has she told you something?  Fabricated something?

Garden of Shadows A woman like that, stuck back in that room with no
would obviously daydream," he said, smiling ridicule.  His lips curled
so sharply, he looked like a "How do you know if she daydreams?"  I
s.

quickly.

"Please, Olivia, your childish efforts at belt detective are far more
ludicrous than you can ' imagine.  You will not find my fingerprints in
the roe He picked up his paper and snapped it, making sui show me his
derisive smile before hiding behind pages..

"I hope so," I said.  If he was worried, he didn't s it.  He went back
to his reading, finished his breakfa;

quickly as usual, and went off to work, leaving B continue as caretaker
of the madness his own mad had created

Christmas Gift as THE GREEN LEAVES OF SUMMER DRIEDAMD SHRIVELED and
fell, and the trees stretched their lonety arms to the sky, becoming
more and more barren, my own false pregnancy began to grow.  All summer
I had wandered the house, trying to collect pillows of different sizes
and shapes to form my mods.  pregnancy.  I found apillow in the pari or
and thought, "Yes this is three-month size."

I discovered a few more up in the north wing.  But Fbxworth HaD was
such a dour and unadorned mansion that by month seven, when the baby
was really beginning toshbw, I had togo to the Swan Room to find a
pillow fluffy enough to be my baby at this time.  Yes, I had agreed to
keep up the charade that it was I that was due to give birth in
December.  How ironic it was that the baby was due on Christmas Day.

As soon as my "condition" became apparent, I knew it was time to
explain the upcoming birth to the children.  Mal and Joel, as I had
insisted, had already been attending boarding school in Charleston
smcfe Garden of Shadows September.  Christopher had remained home with
n missed my boys so much when they were gone Christopher missed his
mother so much that he ai became best friends, almost like a real
mother and s I doted over him morning, noon, and night.  He was only
joy in my life during these strange, hard mon We used to play witch
games, but Christopher alw insisted I be a good witch.  And indeed as
the b grew, I felt more and more that this child would t gift from God,
as I knew Christopher to be a gift fi God.  I decided the most
appropriate time to tell boys would be to announce it at Thanksgiving
dim so Malcolm would be present to share the jc tidings.  We would have
much to be thankful for on Thanksgiving Day.

As we now had only two servants, I had been bus^ morning helping
prepare an extra-special feast.

midday, when it was time to sit down to eat, I ;

exhausted, feeling the "weight of my pregnancy" fa As Malcolm carved
the perfectly browned turke;

held up my crystal goblet and rang my teaspoon aga it.

"Boys, boys, I have a very special announce men make on this happy day.
You may have noticed figure has been changing of late.  Wellhere's the
see Another child is to be born into our household, a v special child,
whp is due to come right b Christmastime.  Truly God b giving us all a
veryspe Christmas present thi& year."

Malcolm threw down the carving knife, his f reddened, and he looked at
me with fury.

"Olivia, i was my news to announce!  How dare you try to g such a part
in this!"

I narrowed my eyes at him and made my voice as c as the November wind
that blew away the dry lea Garden of Shadows outside.

"As we discussed, Malcolm, you will recall that I am to be in charge of
all matters concerning the birth of our new child."

"Mother, is it going to be a girl or a boy?"  Joel interrupted.

"Oh, don't be stupid," Mal chided, "nobody knows until it's born."  Mal
was becoming more and more like Malcolm.  He loved being the smarter,
wiser one, and often lorded his power over Joel.  Christopher just
burst into tears.

"Please don't let anyone else come here, Olivia.  I don't want a little
baby taking up all of your time.  I don't want to lose another mommy,"
he sobbed.

I comforted him, arid said, "No one will ever replace you, Christopher,
neither a little boy nor a little girl."

"It's going to be a girl," Malcolm thundered.  He glared at me and
resumed carving the turkey with a sort of vicious concentration aimed
at me.

Malcolm's rage cast a pall of silence over our Thanksgiving meal.  The
boys seemed cowed, Christopher kept looking at me, silently pleading
with his eyes for reassurance.  Malcolm kept correcting both our boys
in the way they "held their knives and forks.  Oh couldn't he ever
leave them alone!  He accused Joel of cutting his meat like a sissy,
and when Mal shot back, "But I thought you wanted a girl," Malcolm
simply let out a snort of-disgust, and went on eating his mashed
potatoes.  . --i..  -' ."  '.:'-' / ': ' I helped the maid clear the
dishes.  I could see her stealing glances at me, wondering why my news
had; not made for a more festive celebration.  But I hardened my eyes;
my sadness was not for maids to see.  As soon as;

the boys were back in their room preparing for bed, and Malcolm, as
usual, had some "business in town" to attend to, I prepared a picnic
basket filled with Thanks237

Garden of Shadows giving food to take up to Alida.  Usually, I brought
dinner before we ate.  It was now eight o'clock.  I ki she'd be
famished.

As I ascended the stairs for what seemed Bke millionth time, I rested
the basket atop my pillow ledge.

The first time Alida had seen me with my built stomach she had laughed.
Of course, she had to w my maternity clothing and I thought if anyone ^
comical-looking, it was she.

She had made some clumsy attempts to pin up hems, but most of the
skirts dragged over the floor.  1 bodices hung down over her smaller
bosom, and 1 arms looked lost in the sleeves.  As with her pre vii
pregnancy, she did not become bloated-looking thought she looked like a
child in a grown woma clothing.  Her hair had grown back, but we had
hep trimmed so it reached only the base of her skull.

I opened the door and put a bright/ cheerful smfle my face.

"Thanksgiving feast, Alida."  Alida rave no ly attacked the basket, not
even greeting me as she to it out of my hands She picked up the
drumstick, into it, and sighed.  Then, delicately, she scooped up
stuffing with her fingers and licked off every last crun "Don't you
find your appetite growing enonnt now?"  she asked.  She sounded
exdted, like a schoolf comparing notes.

"Pardon?"  I really didn't understand her ques tic She kept smiling in
between bites.  I had never seen 1 devour food in such a lustful
manner.

"Your appetite," she repeated.

"Isn't it absoluti huge.?  Sometimes I think I could eat all day and I
tempted to go to the windows and Shout for you Garden of Shadows bring
up more food.  I would eat anything, any combination, any amounts, even
things that weren't cooked.

Last night I dreamt about steak and ice cream and cookies.  Don't you
have those urges?"  she questioned, tilting her head and pressing her
right forefinger into her cheek.  She had been acting more normal
lately and I wondered if her madness was returning, "Hardly.  Why
Should I?"  I asked, not knowing whether to smile or to be angry.

She didn't answer.  She laughed and went back to her food.  Was she
teasing me?  Was it her way of taking some mad revenge on me?

"I eat no more or no less than I always do," I snapped, and left her.
She was still laughing when I closed and locked the door behind me.

However, from that day on, every time I went to her to bring her
things, she managed to make some sort Of comment concerning my
pregnancy as well as her own.

She ignored anything I said to the contrary and acted as if I were the
one who was going mad.  Finally, I felt a need to spell everything out
for her again.

"You realize why I am doing this, don't you?"  I said one day after I
had been in the room awhile.  She was sitting by the window, endlessly
knitting pink booties, receiving blankets, and buntings.  She already
had a pile large enough to outfit six infants, but on and on and on she
knitted.  The most peculiar thing was that she, too, seemed to be
certain this child would be a girl, as; if along with his seed, Malcolm
had impregnated her with his obsession.  The cold winter sun peered
into the windows, making the room bright without making it truly warm.
Of course, the layers of pillows strapped to my stomach always kept me
warm.  I patted my false Garden of Shadows stomach so she would
understand exactly what I me:

by "doing this."  She looked up at me, her eyes dand with glee.

"You are doing this," she said, "because Maico Neal Fbxworth demands a
large family, but mos because he demands a daughter."

"But you are the one having the child, Alida.  All 1 real symptoms are
yours, not mine."

The smile left her face.

"Don't you wish you w< pregnant with a child?"  she asked with a sharp
a biting tone

"That is no longer the point now, is it?"  I sa intending to intimidate
her.  If there was any one reas why I couldn't tolerate her weird
questions, it v because they put me on the defensive, not her.  I v the
pure one; she was the one who had sinned.  I the one who would be
rescuing her child from sin, a making it wholesome and pure.

Her expression didn't change.  If anything, she I came more
aggressive.

"Yes, it is, Olivia.  It is the point.  You will have tl child; you
Should feel it.  Put your hand on yo stomach and feel it moving within
you.  Feel it drawl on your strength.  Eat for it, sleep for it, and
pray for as you would any child in your womb," she said wi more
determination and energy than she had si anything the entire time she
was in this room.  Her ej were small, her mouth firm.

I backed away.  I felt as if it were getting harder 1 me to breathe,
"Why don't you open a window here?"

She got up and walked to me.

"It's Life.  Feel it."  S took my hand into hers and put my palm oh t
stomach.  For a' moment we stood there looking in Garden of Shadows
each other's eyes.  She held mine to hers so intently, I did not look
away, and then ... I felt the movement in her stomach and it did feel
as though I were feeling it in my own.  I started to piril my hand
back, but she held it to her.

"No, feel it want it, know it.  It is yours," she said.

"Yours."

"You're road," I finally said, and successfully pulled away from her.

"I'm doing this only to ... to wash away your sin and Malcolm's and to
convince people that the child is mine.  And it will be mine..  .. " I
backed up to the door, reached for the handle behind my back, and
slipped out quickly, hurrying down the hall and away, pursued by that
mad look in her eyes.

That night when I entered my bedroom and locked my door behind me I did
not unfasten the pillows from my stomach.  I lay there on my bed with
my hands on my stomach thinking about the way Alicia had held my hand
to her stomach.  There was an electricity that still tingled in the
tips of my fingers and the surface of my palm.  As if the memory
lingered in my hand, I felt the movement I had felt in AUcia, only I
felt it in my false stomach.  Was therea spirit I was touching within
me?

Had God indeed chosen this role for me and filled me with his spirit?
Suddenly, it frightened me that I would feel such a thing and I jumped
out of the bed and quickly removed the padding from myself.

After Ifell asleep that night, however, I awoke to the strange
sensation of movement in me again.  It was a dream, I told myself, just
a dream.  But it took me a long time to fall asleep again.  I even
imagined I beard a baby'scry.

Mal and Joel stayed for the rest of the Thanksgiving weekend, and
Monday morning I packed them off to school.  During the next month, I
waited with increa eagerness for the birth of my child, while Christof
became more and more worried about it.  He e became moody and cranky,
so unlike his bright, su self.

"You are the bad witch now, Olivia.  And going to eat your baby up."

The day we brought home the Christmas t Alicia's labor pains began. The
boys had not returned tor vacation, and Christopher and I v decorating
the tree.

Just as I was hanging a Christmas ball on one of high branches, I heard
a distant scream.  I drop everything and ran to the north wing, leaving
Chri pher in the care of the maid.

"Alicia!"  I called as I stormed into the room, could hear your screams
in the rotunda: What do think you are doing!"

"Olivia," she moaned, "please help me, the bri coming."

Suddenly, Malcolm appeared behind me.

"Olt now I shall take control.  Go to your room immediat you are about
to give birth," he ordered me.  Hisw was so stem and certain, I obeyed
him immediately, the first time in months.

Bor twelve hours I lay in my room, screaming b pain for the benefit of
the two servants that rem ai and Christopher, white Alida, muffled by
Malcolm < the midwife hfrhad called, silently labored in the n< wing.
At dawn the next day Malcolm appeared at' door carrying a squalling
pink bunting.  He walked o to my bed, and lay the baby beside me.

"It's a girl," announced with such pride and arrogance in his vo I
unwrapped the bunting and peered at the n beautiful newborn I had ever
seen.  There was Garden of Shadows redness to the baby's complexion.
Why, it was as if she were indeed immaculately conceived and born
without the anguish of the human birth process.  This baby would be so
easy to love, so beautiful and sweet, my heart went out to her.  Oh, I
would accept her as my own, and make her my own.  And she would love
me.

"It's the most beautiful baby in the world, isn't it?

Dimpled hands and feet, golden wavy hair, the bluest of blue eyes. 
.why my mother must have looked like this when she was a baby," he
cooed with a gentleness I had never before heard in his voice.

"Corinne, my sweet beautiful daughter, Corinne!"

"Corinnet" I was shocked!

"Surely, you wouldn't .  how can you name that innocent baby after the
mother whom you claim to hate?"

"You don't understand."  He shook his head and waved his hand in front
of his face as though he were clearing away cobwebs.

"It will be my way to keep constantly aware of the deceitful, beguiling
ways of beautiful women, or I may allow myself to believe and trust in
her too much.  As much as I love her already, every time my lips say
"Corinne," I will be reminded of my betraying mother who promised to
stay and love me until I was a man.  I will never be so hurt again," he
concluded, nodding with the same kind of certainty he had when he made
his pronouncements about the business world.

His strange thinking sent a chill down my spine.  How could he impose
such character on this sweet angelic little baby?  What was wrong with
him?  Would he never change?  That moment I hated Malcolm with all my
being, and I promised myself that I would try in every way I could to
protect this child from his perversion.  I would hold and cherish this
child as one of my own.  She Garden of Shadows may have inherited the
Foxworth ancestry without i lineage to offset their madness, but I
would raise I with my character and prevent her from becoming li Alicia
or like the first Corinne.

"Leave my room, Malcolm," I ordered him cold "You are sick, and I do
not ever want to hear you s such things about our daughter again."

Malcolm left, and I was happy to explore my m baby's perfect body, to
introduce myself to her a assure her of my love and care.  I counted
her t perfect dainty toes, her ten long, slender fingers.  Y she would
be everything I could never be, as well everything I was.  Through this
special child, I would able to live the life I'd never lived, for she
would loved by all who knew her.  I rocked her to sleep in i arms,
singing, "Hush little baby, don't say a woi Papa's gonna buy you a
mockingbird."  Then I drift off beside her.  It had been a long, hard
day.

The winter sun was at its zenith when I pulled t curtains in my room
the next day.  Little Corinne, an;

that she was, had slept six hours Straight, unlike a newborn I had ever
heard of before.  The nurse came to give her her bottle.

"Let me do that," I insisted had no intention of keeping any nurse
around for Ion I wanted to raise this child myself.  Then I remember
Christopher, I had to go and see him, and introdu him to Corinne.  He
must have felt very lonely a bewildered.  Why, I had abandoned him at
the Chri mas tree without a word of explanation!  Reluctant!] handed
Corinne to the nurse and ran to find Chris!

pher.  He wasn't in his bedroom.  He wasn't in his nurser With a
mounting sense -ofdtead I rsa -to the north was Garden of Shadows I
threw open the door.  The room was empty, perfectly clean and still.
Alicia and every trace of her ever having been there was gone.

"Christopher!"  I yelled as I sped down the stairs.

"Christopher!  Where are you?  Please, Christopher, come to your
Olivia!"  My voice echoed in the silent, empty halls.  I sat down on
the parlor sofa and cried as I hadn't cried ever in my life.
Christopher was gone, without even saying good-bye.  Alida had
reclaimed her son, and Malcolm had squired them off without so much as
a faretheewell to me.  I swore then and there that never, never would I
let the same thing happen to Corinne.

The Christmas Mal and Joel came home to was a Christmas unlike any they
had ever seen or even imagined.  Malcolm planned the biggest, grandest,
most extravagant Christmas party ever to be given at Foxworth Hall.  He
had even out spent Garland, whom he often accused of being extravagant.
I was quick to learn that when it came to Corinne, Malcolm's usual
frugality was forgotten.  Efficiency and economy had nothing to do with
what he was to consider her needs.

For one thing, the guest list was considerably expanded from the guest
list for our previous Christmas parties.  Close to five hundred people
were invited, many who had only the slightest acquaintance with
Malcolm.  Almost anyone who owned property, had a business, or was a
professionalwithin a fifty-mile radius was invited.  To stress the
importance of Corinne, he designeda special Christmas party
invitation.

"Gorinne Foxworth cordially invites you to her first Christmas party at
Foxworth Hall" was lettered in gold at the top of the iflvitatioa.

Garden of Shadows He set up a bar in the foyer and ordered c;

expensive champagne.  The bubbly liquid was f< four enormous crystal
fountains that sprayed great silver receiving bowls.  Six waiters fill
stemmed goblets under the sparkling liquid and 1 them out continuously
to the arriving guests.

where people turned, they were greeted by wait waitresses in black and
white uniforms flowing out of the ballroom, bearing silver trays lade
dainty hors d'oeuvres small pieces of bread ered in caviar, pink chunks
of salmon on cracke largest shrimps I had ever seen speared on
toothpicks.

"The other Christmas tree was replaced t twenty-five feet high,
bedecked with thousai sparkling ornaments and lights.  The star at the
the tree was made of solid silver, and Malcol rounded the base with
dozens and dozens of pi for Corinne wrapped in glittering holiday paper
to remind him to add the presents for Mal and Malcolm tripled the
number of extra servants occasion.  Every five feet there was someone
st with a tray or someone to collect used glass dishes.  A forty-foot
table was set up against 1 right wall and upon it were arrayed roasted
U roasted hams, roast beefs, Cornish hens, chu salmon, dish after dish
of caviar, platters of s and rows of lobster tails.  Everything was <d
ostentatiously and placed on silver serving i There were flowers on
every available tabletop, some places tables were brought in to hold
enc poinsettias.  He spared no expense He hired a ten-piece orchestra
and had a tern stage constructed for them in the left co meri foyer.
There was even a female singer who sang (he most up-to-date music,
something Malcolm rarely tol crated.  He had planned this party out
like a major business venture, not trusting me with any of the
details.

It was as though we had ordered the weather for our Christmas party,
for it was snowing gently and the big flakes added to the festive
atmosphere.  One of our neighbors below had harnessed a horse to a
sleigh and brought some guests up the hill with the bells jingling, all
of them wrapped in furs and singing holiday songs.

Butlers and maids took their coats and hats at the door and they were
immediately directed to the champagne so they could toast the birth of
Corinne with Malcolm, who drank more than I had ever seen him drink.

Malcolm had also ordered hundreds of red candies which nickered gaity
in silver holders.  All five tiers of the three gigantic crystal and
gold chandeliers were lit too.  The glittering lights created a web of
dazzling beauty, stretched from the mirrors to the crystals to the
jewels of the women.

: It looked like a scene out of a movie about the kings and queens of
Europe.  The Opulence created a sense Of magic.  One almost expected
the arrival of Prince Charming with Cinderella on his arm.

^ The guests wore their richest clothing, their most expensive jewels
and furs.  The air was electric with their excitement, their animated
chatter and laughter.

f ^ For the purpose of celebrating Corinne's birth, MalI.  colm had
hired a professional photographer to take E pictures of her in her crib
or in his arms.  The photoI graphs were then blown up into enormous
sizes and | placed in gold fl-ames, a half dozen Of them held up by
Garden of Shadows tripods in the entranceway so people who came to
party could first see Malcolm Foxworth's beaut daughter.  The
photographer had caught the blue in eyes and the richness of her golden
hair.  No one co walk past a photograph without remarking about perfect
complexion and dainty features.

In fact, Corinne's looks became something of a to early on.  Some
people, like Beneatha Thomas i Colleen Demerest, were rather obvious
with tl thoughts, or, rather, their jealousy.  When I stoppe< talk to
them and some of their friends, I disco ve they had been analyzing one
of Corinne's photogra in detail.

"I see so much of Malcolm in her," Beneatha s< "but not so much of
you."  I saw the way the of women smiled at one another and I recalled
my 1 party with the Virginia society, how they had made feel so awkward
and foolish.  I was determined protect Corinae, and never let what had
happened me ever ever fall on; her ears.

"I'm sure she will be strikingly beautiful and ta Colleen said,
stressing "tall."  Some of the won turned away to hide their smirks and
laughter, bi straightened into a firmer, taller posture, un inhibit
They didn't have daughters like Corinne.  We we show them all.

Snidely, I said, :"Yes I can; already tell she has disposition.  She
doesn't cry and whine, so she won't weak and dependent like so many
women are toda;

expect she will have my attention span and intellect curiosity so that
when she is our age, she will have m< serious subjects to talk about."
I left them stand there, speechless.  ;

Other people made comments about Corinite's'f Garden of Shadows tares,
however.  I overheard a number of comments about her blue eyes and
golden hair, about how much she looked like a Fbxworth.  I was walking
behind Dorothea Campden, whose husband was the president of a major
textile factory Malcolm was negotiating to buy, and I heard herisay
that Corinne was proof that children often take after their
grandparents more than they do their parents.

"And in this child's case, it's a blessing," she said.

"At least on the mother's side."

Everyone in her group gasped when I stepped up to them immediately
after the remark had been made.

"Blessing in what sense, Dorothea?"  I asked.  She was a small
middle-aged woman who was in a constant battle with age, dyeing her
hair, wearing clothing meant for younger women, seeking out skin creams
with so-called miraculous formulas to wipe away wrinkles  I towered
over her and she shrank back, her band at her throat as if I had
threatened to choke her.

"Well... I... I meant that she looks so much like Malcolm's mother."

"I didn't realize you were so old, Dorothea, that you would remember
his mother."

"Well, yes, I do," she said, her eyes darting from one woman to the
next.  She was looking for someone to rescue her.  How I enjoyed making
them uncomfortable.

"Of course, babies change so as they grow older, don't they?  Why,
would anyone recognize any of you from your baby pictures?"  I asked.
Then I falsely raised my hand to cover my mouth, as if I'd made a
terrible slip of the tongue.

"Qh, I'm sorry, Dorothea.  Did they have cameras when you were a child,
Dorothea?"

"What?Why.^oficourse'I..."

Garden of Shadows "Excuse me," I said.

"I see the Murphys have ji arrived," I added, and pivoted quickly to
leave h stuttering.

"How rude," someone in her group said, and th closed around her like
chickens around a wounded he I circulated about, sometimes interrupting
simil conversations, sometimes feeling that I had hist a pea red when
derogatory things were being said abo me.  I rather enjoyed baiting and
biting at these vap women.  Before long, when I looked about theballroc
it seemed to me that many of them were glaring at I hatefully.  But I
no longer cared.  Now I had Corin and I would be known as the mother of
the m< beautiful child in the state.

Somehow what I was doing got back to Malcolm ai he grabbed my arm and
dragged me into the libra with him.  I recalled again that first party
and the way went into the library arm in arm with that "flapper."

brought back my anger and pain.  I was in no mood i any of his tantrums
now.

"What is it that couldn't wait?"  I demanded.

"It's you and what you're doing out there," he sai his eyes wide and a
bit bloodshot.  The champagne hi gone to his head.

"Doing out there?"  I knew to what he was referrin but I feigned
ignorance and wore an expression innocence.  } "Insulting all those
women, letting them know exa< ly how you feel about them, even
insulting the wives' some very important business associates," he
added, if I had uttered blasphemies in front of clergymen.

"As far as I am concerned," I began, "these so-calli.

high society women are " ' "I don't care what you think," he snapped.

"Tt Garden of Shadows isn't your party to ruin.  It's Corinne's. 
We're doing it for Corinne.  We want to give her the good beginning,
not you!"

"Corinne?  Are you mad?  She's my daughter, too, but she's only an
infant.  I don't want her growing up to be a frivolous spoiled thing
like those women there like your mother was.  Besides,she doesn't even
know what we are doing," I said.

"And this expense for an infant... no matter how precious and wonderful
she is ... it's sinful."

"It is not sinful," he responded, pounding his right fist into his
palm.  I had never seen him so animated in an argument.

"It's what she deserves."

"Deserves?"  I started to laugh.

"You're jealous," he said, pointing at me.

"You're jealous of an infant, jealous ofAlidafor having such a
beautiful baby, envious of her blue eyes and golden hair and
magnificent complexion.  Well, I won't have it, I tell you; I won't
have it!"  Both of his hands Were now clenched into fists.  I thought
he was enraged and drunk enough to actually strike me, but I wouldn't
permit him to intimidate me this way.

"No, Malcolm, it's you who are jealous.  Jealous of me and my
daughter."

"What?"  The idea seemed to confuse him.  He backed away as if I had
been the one to strike him.

"She's my daughter, not yours.  She has none of your blood and none of
you in her.  And I'm glad of that."

His look was hateful and mean, but I wouldn't let him hurt me now.

"Oh, no, Malcolm, you're wrong about that.  You wanted me to be this
child's mother.  And I will be.  And she does have me in her, she has
had me in her from the moment I said I would participate in your little
Garden of Shadows j^ got now, Malcolm, it isn't simi ^j^.m it's your
life and mine, and our sons' "k.gA It's our family and I am now as
^^cyou are."  I walked past him and

AeiibatydoM- 1 g fetunung to the party," I said.

K unnB^ and continue this argument riffaillcare."

He oufcc^ hi1"5 ^ and!  Joined me, glaru Areatttly ^from time to time'
^ ignoredejvet'doA he had the nurse bring Corinnj^teboys up even though
they were ie i d the i< ^ us stood in front of the great i ^jodianfly
photograph.

y^i held Corinne, and the two boys Ahersik^1" anA held my hands.  The
ligl] ^ tteff8*^ Q^ g"6518 applauded, Mah^^adth pride as he looked down
at his She viinnk6'but she wasn't crying.

,.c^igp s it's her party!"  he announced,gga^ glance.  The crowd
laughed at "

itv "AliA" Matt^lew Alien, one of Maico aitates announced.  He was
morejpat, I thought.  He raised his champs and dtn" 15 scurried about
quickly offer ii to Ac aBSts- "To the Fbxworths," he sa~n.Mh v the""
beautiful new daughter, ^^jitay Christmas and a Happy New ^ wito kear!"
the audience chorused, lo-Bine emptied.  The band struck up "I ^?1
Boughs of Holly" and Malcolm A--AttBOwd displaying his beautiful ne
scheme.  But now, Malcolm, it isn't simply y< scheme, it's your life
and mine, and our sons' and i daughter's.  It's our family and I am now
as mud Foxworth as you are."  I walked past him and opei the library
door.

"I am returning to the party," I said.

"You remain in here and continue this argument with yo self for all I
care."

He collected himself and joined me, glaring at threateningly from time
to time.  I ignored him.

twelve o'clock he had the nurse bring Corinne dowi had kept the boys up
even though.  they were exhaust and the five of us stood in front of
the great Christc tree for a family photograph.

Malcolm held Corinne, and the two boys stood either side of me and held
my hands.  The lights flasi and the crowd of guests applauded, Malcolm
i beaming with pride: as he looked down at his.daught She was.  awake,
but she wasn't crying.  ;

"She knows it's her party t" he announced, and g;

me a piercing glance.  The crowd laughed at his:jjovi ity.

"A toast," Matthew Alien, one of Malcolm's la ness associates
announced.  He was more like M cplm's stooge, I thought.  He raised his
champagne gland the waiters scurried about quickfy offering gla$ to the
guests.

"To the pox worths he said, "a especially to their beautiful new
daughter, Corim Merry Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

"Hear, hear!"  the audience chorused, and 1 glasses were emptied.  The
band struck up "Deck.  l Halls with Boughs of Holly" and Malcolm
circutel through; the crowd displaying his beautiful new dau;

teE.-'.o-."  , <,; .. ,/', -,- -- ^ ;-- ; ,^'1.--,:

Garden of Shadows I gathered my boys to me.

"Father loves her more than he loves us," Mal said.

He was so perceptive.  It gave me hope.

"You must learn to live with that, Mal.  Both of you must learn," I
said.  I hugged both my boys to my breast.  I loved them dearly, and my
love and protection were large enough for three children.  No one would
be left out of my affections.  I kissed them both on their heads and
hugged them again as the three of us watched Malcolm across the big
room holding his golden daughter up into the air so she almost looked
like a cherub that had flown from the Christmas tree.

He held her there and smiled in jubilation.

Corinne from THE NIGHT OF THE christmas PARTY ON, malcol aever
hesitated to show that his love of Corinne had i boundaries.  The boys
knew this, and it really hurt the and I tried and tried to compensate,
to reassure the that all children were precious to their parents, th
they would always be cherished by me and by Malcoli too, even if it
wasn't so easy for him to show I affection for his sons.  I think the
boys were actual happy to return to school after the New Year,
displaced did they feel by the fuss Malcolm continua made over Corinne.
He was home most evenings no where before he almost always went out. He
endles crowed and crooned over Corinne, white, as usu criticizing and
overly disciplining Mal and Joel.  I heart went out to them.  They were
good boys, sw< and loving, and I know they felt lost amid the attend
Malcolm lavished on Corinne.  After they left, I felt fi to turn more
of my attention to her too.

But Malcolm insisted that the nurse whom he I hired in the beginning
remain.  Every time I went Garden of Shadows feed, or even to lift
Corinne, that woman was hovering behind me, trying to take control,
frowning disapprovingly at the way I handled my daughter.  This really
angered me.

One morning, while Mrs.  Stratton was giving Corinne her bottle, I blew
up.

"I told you time and time again that I am to be the only one who feeds
Corinne.

How dare you disobey my orders."

"Ma'am/'she countered snidely.

"I was never told I was to follow your orders.  On the contrary, Mr.

Foxworth instructed me in detail exactly how he wanted every aspect of
the baby's schedule to be executed."

"What?"  I was flabbergasted.

"I want you out of this house this afternoon.  Services such as yours
will no longer be necessary."

"I'm afraid there's some confusion, Mrs.  Poxworth," Mrs.  Stratton
persisted.

"When Mr.  Foxworth hired me, our agreement was that the child would
remain under my care indefinitely."

I was furious, but I didn't want my rage to infect my sweet innocent
child, so I quickly turned and stormed out of the room.  All that
morning I paced the corridors of Foxworth Hall, filled with agitation
and determined once again to take control of this situation from
Malcolm

That afternoon I had my second surprise: the decorators arrived. Again
it was something Malcolm had contracted to do without my knowledge. 
They proceeded to the room adjacent to his and began planning out the
construction of Corinne's personal nursery.  It was Malcolm's decision
that she not use the boys' nursery.  New furniture had been ordered,
and I saw from the intensity with which the decorators worked that
Malcolm had demanded everything be completed post haste.  Again, no
expense was too great whei came to Corinne, and I was to have no input
about colors of the new wallpaper and rug or the style of furniture. 
The decorators barely acknowledged presence.

I sat fuming aH day.  I tried reaching Malcolm at offices, but Malcolm
rarely, if ever, spoke to me on telephone.  During Corinne's first few
weeks, he did i once in a while to ask about her, but usually he spok<
Mrs.  Stratton.  If I ever did phone him, his secret ai told me he was
in a meeting or away from his desk mattered not that I left a message
for him to return call.  Whenever I asked him about it, he told me he >
just so busy, he never got to call me back; so I stopi calling him.

I was waiting for him in the doorway of the libr when he came home
early that evening.  He would hi been home earlier, but he had gone to
a shop speda ing in infant wear and purchased five new sleep outfits
for Corinne.  With the packages in his arms, face lit with excitement,
he entered Foxworth F. intending to rush right up to the child.

I was amused by the way he spoke to her whene he did go to her.  It was
as if he expected her understand his words, his promises, his plans for
1 education and training.  Sometimes, when I overhes him speaking to
Corinne, I got a chilling feeling.  It n as if he thought she was his
mother who had been goblets of liquid from the mythical fountain of you
until she had been returned to this infant state.  In mind she was a
baby, but she had a grown woma comprehension of things said to her,
especially thil said to her by him.

"Malcolm!"  I called as he passed by me on his way Garden of Shadows
the spiral staircase.  He often ran up those stairs like a boy of
sixteen, drawn to the south wing by a love that was absolutely magnetic
and overwhelming, driven by worship for his child.

"What do you want?"  he demanded, impatient with my presence.  During
the last month he had ignored me anyway.  Whenever he was home, he was
with Corinne;

and when she was sleeping, he was at his work.

Sometimes, when he did look at me, he looked right through me, as if I
weren't even there.

"I want to talk to you immediately," I said.

"It cannot wait."

"What is it that cannot wait?"  he asked, grimacing.

He juggled the boxes in his arms.  He hadn't even shaken the snow from
his shoulders and back.  The white flakes were melting on his golden
hair, making the strands glitter under the lights.  But he didn't seem
to notice or care.

"Please step in here," I said, and backed up.  I heard him groan in
impatience, but he came in quickly.  He put the packages down on his
desk.

"Well?  What is this new emergency?"  He shook his head and brushed the
melted droplets of snow off his shoulders.

"I want Mrs.  Stratton let go.  Now, Malcolm."

"Mrs.  Stratton is a professional.  A professional when it comes to
taking care of infants.  Corinne will have only the best."

"Am I not the best?  I am her mother.  I am also the mother of your
sons!"

"It's different with boys," he said, looking at me as if I were an
idiot who understood nothing.

"Why?  How?"  I demanded.

"It's just different!"  He hated being contradicted.  I

Garden of Shadows imagined that it was only here, in his own home, t
was ever contradicted.  None of his employee stooges would dare.  It
must have been a source of irony to him that his wife challenged him
the Malcolm's attitudes about women left little roe equal treatment and
respect.

"It's wasteful extravagance," I said, shakir head.

"The woman will grow bored here if Sh professional as you say.  Most of
the time, I will "You will be doing nothing," he snapped.  " Corinne
entirely to her.  That's why I am payin She has my instructions; let
her carry them out.

"What mistakes did I make with your sons?"  I' about to let him have
his way.  If he was going to things difficult and unpleasant for me, I
would < same for him.  He tried to ignore the question.

colm, what mistakes?"

"Mistakes."  He sneered.

"Look at the boys."

"What's wrong with them?"

"What isn't wrong with them, you should They're weak; they're lazy;
they're not interested business world, a world that has provided them w
this," he said, making a wide gesture.

"You'yi soned them so they can't stand being in my pre sen "That's your
own fault," I interrupted.

"Yo rorizethem."

"Simply because I demand things of them continued.

"I want them to be men, not mama's Mal still sneaks around that piano
when I'mi home.  Don't deny it," he added quickly.

"Am Joel is still as fragile and meek as a little gil "But all that has
nothing to do with--" s "Enough!"  He pounded his desk.

"Enough,"(| "Mrs.  Stratton will remain until I want to dismiss her.

It's what I want; it's my money I'm spending.  Don't interfere."

"Corinne is my child too!"

A wry smile twisted his lips.

"Really, Olivia?  Did you forget?  She's my daughter.  Did you forget?
She's a complete Fbxworth," he added, as if by sending away Alicia he
had stripped Corinne of all of Alida's heritage.

In his deranged thinking, Corinne was solely his creation.

"She deserves the best and the best is what she will have, from now on.
You can't understand this," he added, shaking his head and looking at
me as though I were someone to pity.

"Your father treated you more like a son than a daughter.  Anyway, it
should not concern you.  Go about your business and let Mrs.

Stratton do her job.  Look after the boys," he said.

"They are certainly enough for you," he added bitterly.

He picked up his packages again.

I did not know how to win this argument.  I was temporarily silenced.

He started toward the library door.

"Wait," I called.

"What about this new nursery you are creating for her?"

"What about it?"

"I must insist," I said, "that you inform me of these ; decisions
before you make them.  I won't be embarrassed like this again."

I He turned and contemplated me as if I were some I annoying insect
that just wouldn't go away.  He tucked | in the right corner of his
mouth and shook his head.

I "When I agreed to go along with your plan about this j child, it was
under the terms that from no won I would J-'-be in charge of this
household and things would be run j fac way I saw fit.  You also
agreed that the child would Garden of Shadows be mine, and indeed she
is mine.  It is only God, no you, who could take her away from me now."
I pause!

long enough to catch my breath and bore my eyes inti him like
daggers.

"I'll let you have your new nurse ri Malcolm, but only on one
condition. Mal and Joel wi each be given a new room, too, one of their
own, fe them to use however they wish when they are hon from school. 
And each of those rooms will have a grai piano in it."

"Very well," he said with a look of complete co tempt and disgust on
his face.

"I don't care anymc how you raise your sons.  They've already been
sissi and ruined."  He stalked from the room and I heard feet pound the
stairs as he ran up the steps to daughter.

I, too, couldn't wait to get to Corinne's room ev day.  Every day
Corinne grew more beautiful and heart filled more and more with love
for her.  The ) time her lips smiled, she was looking at me, and I ki
she felt my love and care for her.  When her siS golden hair was long
enough, I tied pretty pink ribi in it.  She looked like a fairy tale
princess child.

now I understood the sort of love everyone alA seemed to feel for those
dainty, pretty girls I watched in my youth.  Their beauty seemed to pli
special string in the heart, leaving a sound as loveh resonant as an
angel's harp.

During the summer when Corinne was almost years old, Malcolm again did
something wit hoi approval.  He replaced Mrs.  Stratton with someo
imported from England.

Her name was Mrs.  Worthington and she ' fifty-four-year-riM is piaster
who, according to colm, had beenigwemess to the children of the -^^e}
Garden of Shadows and Duchess of Devon.  I didn't like the woman from
the start, and she didn't like me.  Malcolm had obviously made it
perfectly clear to her that I was of little or no consequence when it
came to decisions pertaining to Corinne.  She didn't pay any attention
to me; she tried to take control of Corinne's life as if I were dead.
She never asked me before she did anything with her.  She set up a
schedule for the child and followed it religiously.

For the first week Corinne rebelled and begged me to send Mrs.
Worthington away.

"I want to stay with you, Mommy," she cried tearfully.

"I don't like that other lady."

"Corinne darling, you know Iwould rather it be only the two of us.  But
your father insists.  Your father thinks it's important that you have a
governess, and even if I don't agree, your father will not back down.
The best thing for you to do is obey Mrs.  Worthington."

Despite my dislike of Mrs.  Worthington, I quickly began to admire her
talents, and I did so want Corinne to have all those graces that could
never be mine.  Mrs.

Worthington's program consisted of lessons in etiquette, elocution, and
dance.  Ironically, Corinne was to be taught how to play the piano as
well.

, She was a confident and somewhat arrogant woman, | standing nearly
five feet seven.  Although her clothing | was conservative and
Victorian, she did have some I very fine dresses, blouses, and skirts
made from fine | cottons, silk, and taffeta.  I never saw her once
without I her hair neatly pinned.  She rose very early in the I morning
and prepared herself each day as though she were going to have an
audience with the queen.

She wore no makeup and spent all her personal time ^ther in her room
reading or taking solitary walks over Garden of Shadows the grounds of
Pbxworth Hall.  Unless the weather inclement, she walked daily as a
form of exercise.

was very careful about how and what she ate maintained a rather trim
figure for a woman of her i Actually, I became something of a student
of 1 myself because she did nothing without turning it in lesson for
Corinne, whether it be holding her I correctly, reaching for food
correctly, walking with proper posture, greeting people--whatever it
was, always turned to Corinne and made sure the el understood and
appreciated her actions.

It was Malcolm's decision that Corinne, unlike boys, who couldn't come
to the dinner table to eat us until they were at least five years old,
should job at meals, as a learning experience.

This was the source of one of many argunu Malcolm and I had about
Corinne's upbringing.  r first time Corinne was brought to the table
with N Worthington, she was only three years old.  The b and I looked
up in surprise as Mrs.  Worthing appeared holding Corinne's hand.
Malcolm bean and patted the chair beside him.  Corinne started to to
it, but Mrs.  Worthington stopped her instantly.

"Corinne," she said, and the child hesitated.  11 amazed at such
obedience.  Mrs.  Worthington had bi with us only a week, and despite
Malcolm's fe eli about Corinne, I had observed a willfulness in
already. She was like a baby bluebird, flitting from 1 thing to that
without much concentration.

I thought her bright blue eyes were full of misch There was something
impish about her beauty and way she had learned early on to twist and
turn N colm.  He couldn't resist any of her demands.  I needed only
look toward something to have him fetch it/ Whenever he took her for
rides, her arms would be filled with new toys or dolls when she
returned.  Sometimes, she was dressed in a brand new outfit or wore new
shoes.  She would come skipping into the house, her tiny laughter
echoing through the foyer.

Malcolm insisted her golden hair be brushed a hundred times each day
and it did gleam with a richness that made her look angelic.  It was
kept down in long, flowing strands that reached below her shoulders.
She never lost the rich complexion with which she had been born.  If
anything, she grew more beautiful and pleasing.

I was fascinated with her every movement, whether it be the way she
flew through the house, birdlike, her little feet barely touching the
carpets, or the way she brought food to her lips, touching them ever so
gently, acting as though she knew she was some kind of little
princess.

I thought she was very bright and understood immediately that her
father wanted her to obey Mrs.

Worthington, and that if she mastered whatever Mrs.

Worthington set out for her to do, she would have even more control
over Malcolm.  He doted on her every movement, and if she did something
the way Mrs.

Worthington told her to do it in front of him, he beamed.

And so right from the start she was a perfect little pupil.  She
stopped and looked back at Mrs.

Worthington, who stood solid and correct, her hands clasped before her,
waiting for Corinne to return to the dining room doorway, which she did
immediately.

"We walk to the table," she said, "like a lady should.

And remember how you take your seat," she added.

Garden of Shadows Corinne straightened her little posture, lifting h
high with the characteristic Fbxworth arrogant boys and I watched in
fascination.  Malcolm got -pulled her chair out, something he had never
d me, not even during the first week of our nu Corinne turned quickly
to Mrs.  Worthingtoi nodded, and Corinne said, "Thank you, Dadd^ It was
as though the sky had opened and all tl and glory of the heavens poured
down into this Malcolm was positively illuminated.  He looked
Worthington with an expression of gratitude ;

spect.  Corinne took her seat at the table a education had begun.

Afterward, when all the children were put to I Mrs.  Worthington had
retired, I went down library and interrupted Malcolm.

We were having a terrific summer thunderstor raindrops pounded the
windows and the thunt tied the glass.  Our lights flickered and tlu
threaded in and out of shutters and through cr window casings, creating
a symphony of dis( sounds.  Behind Malcolm I saw the coal-black sk with
lightning, but he, as always, remained indi to anything around him when
he worked.  My i ance did more to disturb him than did this storm.

"What is it now?"  he asked, looking up impa Has forehead creased with
annoyance, Undaui continued across the library to his desk.

-,"I understand what Mrs.  Worthington is tryin by bringing Corinne to
the table to eat with us, b can you permit it after forbidding the boys
to e w until they were five years old?  Don't think the see and
understand this .. . this unnatural favor Garden of Shadows "Unnatural
favoritism?  What are you talking about?

Must you oppose everything I do?"  he asked.  He sat back in his seat
and feigned a look of reason and control to make me feel as though I
were the one at fault.

"How many times do I have to tell you?  Girls must be brought up in a
different manner.  Socially, more is expected of them.  Just because
you weren't provided with these opportunities does not mean that
Corinne won't be.

"Didn't I provide the boys with a private tutor?"  he asked quickly,
before I could respond.

"Until you twisted things around so I had to dismiss him."

"I twisted ..."  I could barely get my words out, I was so angry.

"It was your doing that ruined that for them, and I never approved of
that man anyway."

"Precisely my point," he said, sitting up quickly.

"You conspired against him until you found an opportunity to get rid of
him.  You denied the boys their special opportunity, not I," he
insisted.

"I told you once before and I am telling you again, when it comes to
Corinne, whether it be her education or her clothing whatever, I will
make all the decisions.  Now, stop interfering."

' We had similar arguments when Mrs.  Worthington | began Corinne's
musical education, but no matter how 11 pointed out the inconsistencies
between his treatment | of Corinne and his treatment of the boys, he
refused to | cknowledge them.  He always managed to end the | guments
by accusing me of jealousy.

|< To some extent he was right.  As I watched Corinne ^row into a
beautiful young giri receiving all the enefits and opportunities
Malcolm's huge fortune "^ild provide, I couldn't help but compare
myself to r when I was her age.  Of course, I saw much of Alicia
Garden of Shadows in her as time went by.  I imagined Malcolm did,
\softline and whenever he looted at her, he couldn't help think of his
adoration of his father's bride.

When she reached ten, it pained him to have to s her off to private
school because it meant she would be there in the house when he
returned home it work.  And truthfully, it pained me just as much.  ^
Corinne gone, it was as if the sun had moved pen nently behind the
cloud of Foxworth Hall.  I lonelier than I'd ever been before.  Malcolm
sc hardly any time at home, except during school vi tions.  He was out
"doing business" most every nij Oh, I knew what sort of business he was
doing, I he the tongues wagging in town, and although I really 1 no
friends (how could I, when everyone knew what own husband thought of
me, and how he treated me' was ashamed of Malcolm and for Malcolm, and
de mined to protect my children from the worst in h Perhaps that is why
I found so much comfort in G tile Bible, and, later, in the church.  It
was my < consolation, my companion, indeed, my salvation was my cousin
John Amos who led me back to religi His own mother had died, and he,
like myself, was that was left of his family.  He came to visit, s
encouraged me to pray with him, and as we sat qui< meditating in the
guest parlor, I indeed felt filled by holy spirit, as John Amos
promised me I would.

insisted I start attending church more often, and bef he returned up
north, he left me with a stirring progr of daily Bible readings.  I had
refused for so long surrender my will to Malcolm that it was with
reliefs gratitude that I learned to surrender my will to G Malcolm grew
annoyed with my devotions.

missed Corinne every bit as much as 1 did, but the o Garden of Shadows
comfort he took was the visits he made to her at school.

He never visited the boys at their boarding schools.  I did visit them
whenever I could, and they wrote me long letters describing their
activities.  Malcolm didn't know, of course, but Mat was taking an
instrumental course and Joel was in the orchestra.

The boys also adored Corinne.  They were just as fascinated with her
beauty and charm as was Malcolm, but they couldn't help being jealous
of her relationship with him.  By now she was very spoiled, whereas the
boys, even though they lived with great wealth, had grown up relatively
unaffected.  Malcolm never gave them things with the ease and full
heart he gave things to Corinne.  When they were teenagers, he insisted
they work summers in one of his banks, serving as messengers and doing
other menial tasks.

Still, despite all the reason they had, the boys never resented
Corinne.  They, too, spoiled her, were eager to do things for her and
buy things for her.  They took her sailing and horseback riding, and
when Mal was old enough to drive, he drove her anywhere she wanted,
anytime she wanted.  Joel, especially, was at her beck and call
whenever the three of them were home together.  There was nothing he
would refuse to do for her and she knew it and took advantage of it.

One Thanksgiving holiday, when they were all home from boarding school,
I took the boys aside in a front salon and discussed it with them.
Malcolm had taken Corinne to Charlottesville for a shopping spree
because she told him all her clothing was out of date, and that was
important to her even though she was only eleven years old.

I sat Mal and Joel on a settee and stood before them, not unlike one of
their lecturers at school.  We were having an early winter snowfall. It
was a light c however, with the sky remaining quite bright.  It the
effect of putting everyone into the holiday me anticipating the coming
of Christmas.  The boys Corinne had begun to decorate our tall
Christmas ti only Corinne spent most of her time sitting in on our
tall-back French provincial chairs dictating to tl what she wanted
where, and Joel scurried about lil slave, stretching and straining to
get this ornament t and that ornament there.

"Mal," I began, "you will be eighteen on your i birthday, and as I told
you boys years ago, each of at eighteen will have access to a trust
fund.  It provide each of you with a great deal of independei but
independence requires a well-developed sens< responsibility," I said,
and paused to see how they w listening to me.

Mal, as usual, stared up intently, sitting as qu and as still as a
statue.  He was so long-legged, looked uncomfortable on that soft
light-blue cushio settee, but he didn't utter a word of complaint.
Joel.

the other hand, fidgeted about, strumming the am the settee, running
his hand through his thin gold h leaning forward then bouncing back.

"I know.  Mother," Mal said.

"Father has b talking to me about that very thing lately.  We ha
discussion right after I arrived yesterday, as a matte fact," he said.
He had Malcolm's strong, deep vom "Yesterday?  What has he been telling
you?"  I ash i "He's asked me to sign the money over to him sc |; can
continue to invest it properly."

| "What did you say?"  I asked quickly, Joel stop] fidgeting and looked
up, concern in his face.  The b "I told him I would discuss h with
you," Mal said, and smiled wryly  How like Malcolm he looked, but oh,
how like me he was.  I smiled back at him and Joel smiled widely.

"Good.  Good boy, Mal.  You should never turn that money back to your
father.  He might just take it and spend it all on Corinne," I said.
Joel started to laugh, but my look stopped him.

"I don't mean to be facetious boys.  I've called you in here because I
think you've got to stop pampering your sister.  She's using you,
taking advantage of you.  And I don't think she appreciates the things
you do for her.  Your father has spoiled her so.  I'm telling you this
for Corinne good as well as for your own.  Your father won't listen to
reason.

He's blind when it comes to her, but you two can be of inestimable help
if you won't be so eager to do anything she wants whenever she
wants."

I started to pace before them.

"It's not too late to help her, but you can just imagine what kind of a
woman she is going to turn out to be if this continues.  She has no
sense of money and its worth; she thinks everyone exists to be her
servant, especially you two, and I don't like the way she takes
advantage of you."

I peered over my shoulder to see how they were taking my little
lecture.  Both boys looked serious and thoughtful, although Joel did
look more unhappy.

"I love your sister  Don't misunderstand me," I said.

"But I wasn't kidding about your inheritances.  Your father is capable
of assigning everything to her, and don't for one moment think she is
not a bit conniving.  I know she wears that innocent, childish look,
but behind those eyes, Corinne thinks like a Foxworth."  I stopped and
stared at them.  Mal nodded aad Joel sat back, his anas folded across
his narrow chest.  He still difficulty gaining weight and looked thin
and frag il "What should we do?"  Joel asked.  His voice thinner,
softer, more high-pitched and feminiiu often thought Joel would have
made a much prel little girl, although perhaps not as pretty as Corim
"Give more consideration to what she asks of

Garden of Shadows quite the little lady and very popular with her
peers.  I could tell that all her girlfriends vied for her attention
and favor.  There was little that they valued more than an invitation
to spend the night or to attend a holiday party at Fbxworth Hall.  ;

Our Christmas parties continued to be lavish affairs, only now with
Corinne a little lady, Malcolm conducted each one the way he woidd
conduct a debutante's ball.

Every Christmas Eve Corinne was presented to our high society.  The
parents of all of Corinne's girlfriends and peers were invited.  He
always bought her an expensive new dress for the occasion.  Her
girlfriends knew what was expected of them.  Everyone came formally
dressed, fathers in tuxedos and mothers in gowns.  There was always a
great deal of glitter and glamour.  Women and teenage girls wore
expensive jewelry.  People drove up in expensive cars, costly flowers
grown in hothouses were everywhere, and the feast was as varied and as
rich as it was at the Christmas Eve party when Malcolm had introduced
the newborn Corinne.

Malcolm screened Corinne's friends carefully, inviting only those he
believed were "good enough."  Our guest list was pruned more vigorously
every Christmas, until Corinne reached eighteen for during that year, a
great many things changed.

But until then, Malcolm's adoration of his beautiful daughter increased
daily.  He not only had photographs taken of her continually, he had
her portrait painted, something he still hadn't done for me.  The
picture of Corinne was placed in his trophy room for his private
viewing.  In his eyes she was perfect.

One evening Malcolm and Corinne were alone at the dining table.  The
boys had not teturned from their Garden of Shadows boarding schools
yet.  Corinne was home because M colm had made a special trip to get
her.  She was sitt like a little lady, a graduate of Mrs.  Worthingto
tutorship, describing events at her school.  Malcolm n entranced, his
chin on his hand, propped up on elbow, a constant smile on his face. 
He was mesmeru by her sparkling blue eyes and her musical laughtel
watched them through a crack in the doorway.  Tl seemed so far away
from me, in more than act distance.  It was as though they were in
their o private world.  I envied them, envied the way Corit held
Malcolm's attention.

When she finished her story, she leaned forward, if by instinct, and
kissed him on the forehead.  She du so quickly and so unconsciously, it
was a perf heavenly act.

He caught her hand in his.

"You like your daddy?"  He looked serious, as if really weren't sure.

"Oh, yes.  Daddy."  She pulled her lips back gently tease him with her
smile.

"Then promise to stay with me forever and I prom that all this will be
yours."  He made a sweeping gesti with his hand and Corinne looked up
at the hi ceilings.  She giggled.

"I mean it," he said.

"Everythi I own will go to my princess.  Will you stay with )
forever?"

"Of course I will.  Daddy," she said, and he kiss her on the cheek.

"But will you do a favor for me nc Daddy?"

"Anything, princess, anything your little heart < sires."

"Do you know that special room upstairs, Dad<3 Garden of Shadows The
one that's always locked?  I want that to be my room.  Can it be mine?
Oh, please say yes right now arid I'll move all my things myself," she
said.  Clapping her hands together.  Her face was red with
excitement.

"What room?"  Malcolm asked.  He looked up, a half smile on his face,
not anticipating what she was about to say.

"The room with the swan bed.  Oh, how beautiful it is."

Malcolm turned crimson, but his lips turned white.

"No, no," he said through clenched teeth.

"You must not go into that room.  It's not a room to be used."

"But why?"  Her face crumpled with disappointment, something she was
unaccustomed to.  She clenched her hands into little fists and pounded
them against her thighs.  Corinne's hands always betrayed her
emotions.

Sometimes they seemed to be separate creatures, turning and twisting of
their own will.

"It's a bad room, a tainted room," Malcolm said, not realizing that by
saying such a thing he would make the room even more enticing for
her.

"Why?"  Connne asked.

"Because the ghost of my father's second wife lives in there," Malcolm
said, hoping such a statement would terrify her.  Her eyes did get bug
and she pressed her hands against each other in prayer fashion.

"And she was not a nice woman."

"Why wasn't she a nice woman?"  she asked almost in a whisper.  ;

"It's not important.  There are some things you are too young to know,"
he said.

"But, Daddy, I'm a big girl now.  We know there's no such thing as
ghosts.  I don't believe that room is Garden of Shadows haunted by a
ghost.  Let me move in there, and if yo worried that there's a ghost
there, silly Daddy, I'll s it away for you."

"I want this subject dropped now, Corinne.  I wa dropped right now," he
shouted.

"But I want that room," she insisted.

"It's prettiest room in the house; I want it to be mine.".

she fled from Malcolm, tears streaming down her pi cheeks.

From that time on, whenever Malcolm was gon^ the day, I let Corinne
visit the Swan Room.  I found interest in the room fascinating.  She
loved to sit al long vanity table and pretend she was a grown wog the
mistress ofFoxworth Hall preparing for an ext| gant ball.  J I knew
what she was doing in there because I| the peephole behind the picture
in Malcolm's tl| room.  Of course, Corinne never knew I spied og She
would sit at the vanity table, brushing her had|| Alicia's own brush.
One time, after she had lockg door behind her, she stripped off her
clothing i|| on one of her real grandmother's nightgowns.  SSU the lace
strings of the bodice extra tight so the gi|B wouldn't slip off.  I saw
how much she enjoyed ^B of it, how she ran the palms of her hands down
of budding bosom and onto the small of her stomaj closed her eyes and
wore a look of ecstasy I tho<|B beyond what someone her age was capable
of'U She paraded about like the princess MafoqH turned her into and
then crawled onto the sw|H She actually fell asleep there, wearing the
si^l nightgown.  "^B I studied her little chest lifting and tal|fl
thought about Alicia making love with Garted^Al 15_______

The Blackest Day

"mama, I'VE BECOME A WOMAN!"

I was out in the garden, cutting the last of the L summer
chrysanthemums.  My garden had thrived tl year, I felt, because all the
children were home with) for the summer and often we'd all work on it
togetb weeding and watering and working in fertilizer.  T year my prize
mums stood tall and proud--some them over five feet high, in glorious
colors of la vendi blood-red, and sun-yellow.  Mal teased me to enter t
county fair, "You'll be the queen of the mums.  Moth most certainly."
Corinne had also pressed me to en) my flowers, but I demurred.  I
wanted the flowers fr< our garden saved for us, for our home, to make o
lives bright, to mirror the happiness my childr brought to the gloom of
Foxworth Hall.  Too soon it w September, and in a week the children
would be < again, Joel and Corinne back to their respective boai ing
schools, Mal back to Yale, where he was beginni to realize all the
ambitions Malcohn had driven in him since the day he was born.  I had
just snipped off the crowning glory of my deep purple mum, when I saw
the excited Corinne running toward me, her golden blond hair fanning
out behind her like a shawl spun of sunlight.

"Mama, I've become a woman!"

"Darling, what are you talking about?"

"Mama, I'm in a womanly way!"

My heart stopped and I reeled around, shocked and trembling.

"Mama, I've got my ..."

Her face was flushed, her big blue eyes filled with wonder and
excitement, and she was shyly giggling.

"Mama, I've got my period.  Now I'm really a woman."

I reached down and took her hands in my own.  I was flabbergasted.
Corinne was only fourteen years old; she didn't even know the
difference between being a woman and being in a womanly way.  But she
was so proud and excited to be a woman.  How poignantly happy I felt
for her.  How different it was for me.  Why, I hadn't gotten my period
until I was sixteen years old, and by that time my mother was dead, and
I had no one with whom to share the secret of my change.

"Mama, make me a garland for my hair to celebrate.

In the olden days, didn't you used to do that to celebrate big
events?"

Corinne began gathering the flowers I had cut, weaving the stems
together, entwining blossoms of all colors to make a festive wreath.  I
watched her with a bittersweet mixture of envy and love.  For when I
was a girl, the only crown my womanhood brought me was a barren crown
oftnbms.  Indeed, I had been ashamed of the coming of my menses,
wanting to hide it from my Garden of Shadows father and the servants,
so embarrassed and ash, that someone would find out that that night I
had to bed praying to God to let me stay a little girl.  I h wanted to
be a woman, and for good reason, for now what did it bring me in terms
of love bu dearest children, all now about to embark on then adult
lives.  And here was Corinne already the sc woman I had never been and
would never be.

Corinne went over and sat on the ship rock decorated the center of our
garden.

"Aren't you j to tell me all about love now.  Mama?  Aren't 11 now? Oh,
I have so many longings inside me, I fee I could burst."

"Love, Corinne?  You're only a child."

"But Mama, I'm so filled with questions.  I'm so She bent her head over
and swept up the hair, fastf bright forget-me-nots to her golden
locks.

"I'l curious to know everything."

"Corinne--" "When a man kisses you.  Mama, do you jus inside?"

"Darling--" "When he takes you in his arms"--she embi herself, jumped
up, and waltzed around the flow "do you feel like the ground is dancing
with Mama, I must know!  I'll just die if I have to spent rest of my
life in Foxworth Hall.  I want mania, want love.  I want to go dancing
every night.  I wa be taken on cruises to exotic lands where the we
don't wear blouses and the men beat drums.  C know Daddy would never
approve, he wants me 1 his little girl forever, but you know I can't
be.  Yott) have once wanted these things too.  Mama.  You| Garden of
Shadows have wanted a man who swept you off your feet, who promised to
love you forever and ever, who made the world shake and tremble every
time he touched your hand.  Did Daddy make you feel that way?"

"Your father " "He's so handsome, I bet, I just bet and" Corinne threw
her hands around my waist and began waltzing me around the garden "I
bet you were just wild about him."

I stopped the dance and sat down on the ship rock to catch my breath.
Could Corinne see the pain in my eyes?  Wild about him?  Yes, I was
wild wild with a desperate hope for love.  But what did I get
instead?

The consummation of our marriage that should have been warm and
wonderful was literally a rape.  He attacked me with his mother's name
on his lips.  That was my initiation to love.  I never had Malcolm's
love.

Corinne was staring at me with the strangest expression in her sky blue
eyes, expectant, almost afraid.

"Mama," she said, "promise me someone will love me, some wonderful
young man will win my heart.

Promise."

Suddenly a dark cloud passed over her eyes, and she bent over, pained
by a cramp.

; "Womanhood brings pain along with its joys, and 1 every month you'll
be reminded of this.  You know, | ; Corinne, relations between a man
and a woman are I" more complicated than you can ever imagine.  It's
not ljust flowers and rainbows, though we might wish with all our
hearts it were.  As the poets have always told us, love more resembles
a rose, with harsh, hurting thorns 'beneath its bright, beautiful
blossom.  For some of us, the thorns are hardly noticeable, so sweet is
the scent of tl^ - ose but for others the rose is small, and shrive
ain^ost before it's bloomed, and we are left with a h of thorns, like
tiny needles poking your heart-' ^^ut Mama, the pain's already gone.  I
know 3 kn<Aw everything a^ut life' Mama, and I know you try^ie to
protect me.  But I know something in ;

neatest and I just know it's true.  I know I'm going to one.  of those
special lucky girls-I mean women-w have a special special love, pure
and bright, an all-li lo rum true love.  And I know that when it comes
I'll reaiSdy and I'll do anything, anything, anything to da it few-my
own.  Oh, Mama, I can tell things aren't alw^ fines between you and
Daddy.  But that doesn't meat has^ to be that way for me, does it?"

I knew it wou^ be dlfferentfOT her--as it had be for Alicia--and for
the Corinne before her.  How enw^ed her.  How I teamed for her.

< T)ocs ^ Mania?  Won't it be different for me?"

^ looked at ^ter Ace' ^er ^ rose-petal mou opeasned slightty "I
q11^011- "Of course, Corinne, mi-^,1 i- it will be difeent for you. R)r
you have the gil all ~ women long for-beauty, sweetness, innocence,
lov^&infi heart--- r ^ hueeed bff to ?  breast to hide the tears th
spra^ng to my 9"-a1' how I wished she were real rnii^Kie But she " * My
love had made her min At last my lo" te1'1'"1!  '1 something beautiful,
ar ha<^El been vni ^Tith the ^gAst flower in i VineKginia..."  r
""--""Gome dar, lenyKide.  Have you taken care < yoi^air situatur^ i, ^
"^--""Oh Nba*' rf3"1*Mrs.  Tethering gave me th nec^ < ssary
idora)"*you know.  Mama, all the gir at s^school tettiboBf^g e^On, I'm
so happy th happened just in time before I return to school.  I may
have left a girl, but I'll be returning a woman!"

Corinne practically dripped back into the house, and just as we climbed
the front steps, Mal roared up the drive on a shining black motorcycle.
We both stopped and stared, mouths agape.  Malcolm had repeatedly
forbidden Mal to have a motorcycle.  It had been the source of bitter
disputes between the two of them Malcolm trying to force Mal to be
pointed only toward the business world, Mal insisting on "sowing his
wild oats."  I tried to stay out of it, for truly, those machines
frightened me and seemed so dangerous, but Mal wanted one so
desperately, and, after all, he had come into the trust fund I'd forced
Madcolm to set up for each of the boys when Corinne was born.  And now
Mal had gone and bought a motorcycle.  Inwardly I smiled satisfied in
some way to know that Malcolm had not succeeded in breaking my son's
spirit the way he had broken mine.  Oh, I was proud of my son Mal, so
bright and handsome, wise beyond his years, and fun-loving too.  I was
glad he had followed his wishes.  He looked dashing as he drove up, and
Corinne was practically jumping up and down in excitement to see her
big brother on his motorcycle.

"Hey, Corinne.  Want a ride?"  He revved the motor.

His manly young body was straddling the huge bike.  He wore leather
boots with metal taps and a beautiful flowing white silk scarf, like a
pilot from the Great War "Oh, Mama, Mama, can I?"

"Corinne, you are a young woman.  Its so dangerous.

I forbid you--" "Mother!"  Mal said.

"Til just take her for a spin around the driveway.  Don't be so
old-fashioned."

"Can I?  Oh, please.  Mama?"

Garden of Shadows the rose, bat for others the rose is small, and
shrivt almost before it's bloomed, and we are left with a b of thorns,
like tiny needles poking your heart--" "But, Mama, the pain's already
gone.  I know know everything about life.  Mama, and I know yoi trying
to protect me.  But I know something in heart, and I just know it's
true.  I know I'm going to one of those special lucky girls--I mean
women--i have a special special love, pure and bright, an all-^ long
true love.  And I know that when it comes I'| ready, and I'll do
anything, anything, anything to ( it for my own.  Oh, Mama, I can tell
things aren't at fine between you and Daddy.  But that doesn't me has
to be that way for me, does it?"  ' I knew it would be different for
her--as it hadj for Alida--and for the Corinne before her.  l| envied
her.  How I dreamed for her..^ "Does it.  Mama?  Won't it be different
for me| I looked at her face, her full rose-petal opened slightly in
question.

"Of course, Cori course it will be different for you.  For you have 1
all women long for--beauty, sweetness, int loving heart--" I hugged her
to my breast to hide the sprang to my eyes.  Oh, how I wished she v
mine.  But she way mine.  My love had made At last my love had created
something beaut had been rewarded with the brightest flc Virginia.

"Come, dear, let's go inside.  Have you t your situation?"

"Oh, Mama, of course.  Mrs.  Tethering, necessary, and of course you
know.  Mama, i at school talk about nothing else.  Oh, I'm!

happened just in time before I return to school.  I may have left a
girl, but I'll be returning a woman!"

Corinne practically slopped back into the house, and just as we climbed
the front steps, Mal roared up the drive on a shining black motorcycle.
We both stopped and stared, mouths agape.  Malcolm had repeatedly
forbidden Mal to have a motorcycle.  It had been the source of bitter
disputes between the two of them, Malcolm trying to force Mal to be
pointed only toward the business world, Mal insisting on "sowing his
wild oats."  I tried to stay out of it, for truly, those machines
frightened me and seemed so dangerous, but Mal wanted one so
desperately, and, after all, he had come into the trust fund I'd forced
Malcolm to set up for each of the boys when Corinne was born.  And now
Mal had gone and bought a motorcycle.  Inwardly I smiled, satisfied in
some way to know that Malcolm had not | succeeded in breaking my son's
spirit the way he had |;fcroken mine.  Oh, I was proud of my son Mal,
so bright |and handsome, wise beyond his years, and fun-loving >. I was
glad he had followed his wishes.  He looked ihing as he drove up, and
Corinne was practically aping up and down in excitement to see her big
other on his motorcycle.

"Hey, Corinne.  Want a ride?"  He revved the motor.

manly young body was straddling the huge bike.  He re leather boots
with metal taps and a beautiful ing white silk scarf, like a pilot from
the Great War.

| "Oh, Mama, Mama, can I?"

? "Corinne, you are a young woman.  Its so danger- IBS.  I forbid
you--" ^Mother!"  Mal said.

"I'll just take her for a spin und the driveway.  Don't be so
old-fashioned."

fCan I?  Oh, please.  Mama?"

Garden of Shadows "Do you really think this is how a lady behaves'
"Lucy McCarthy's brother has a motorcycle ant sometimes drives her to
school and the McCarthys really rich and prominent and Daddy even says
and " Mal revved his motor once again.  A booming fi the driveway.  I
didn't want Malcolm to come out to what the commotion was.

"Mother," Mal said, kicking the dust with his leal boot, "it's only
around the driveway.  I'll drop Cori off at the gate and she can walk
back.  Besides, if don't let me take her for a ride, I'm going to make
get on."

Both my children laughed and laughed, and I, fri;

ened as I was, said, "Only around the driveway."

"Oh, thank you, thank you.  Mama," Cori squealed, and she climbed onto
the huge bike, hole Mal tightly around his waist.

I had to admit that they looked dashing togetl Corinne with her blond
hair, blue eyes, delicate a around her brother, and Mal, with his
leather jac boots, and white scarf.

"Drive carefully," I shouted, but the loud mact had already pulled
away, kicking up gravel and sam its wake.

As I watched them disappear beyond the rim of hill, I felt a cold
presence on the back of my n( "What was that?"  the cold, angry voice
of Malo demanded.  I spun around to confront him.  His an had already
built up to a combustible force, but contained, revealing itself only
in his blood-red a plerion, his bulging, angry eyes, and his clenched i
held firmly against his thighs.  He looked like an oi heated stove
about to explode.  ' "Did I see what I thought I saw?"  he demanded.

"Malcolm, I long ago ceased to even (17 to imagine what you see," I
retorted.  Then I sat down on the rocker on the porch.  He was so angry
he looked like a parody of himself.  I couldn't help but tickle his
torment.

"What is it you thought you saw?"  I asked.

"I saw," he thundered, "a moronic middle-aged woman let her precious
young daughter climb onto a motorcycle with her idiot first son.  A
motorcycle I have forbidden time and time again!  And, without a
thought to her children's well-being and good breeding, I saw them
climb onto that dangerous machine and roar off like hooligans down the
driveway.  Then I saw that same moronic middle-aged woman smile."

"I was smiling," I replied, lifting myself up to my fall height and
putting all my pride for my children in my voice, "because I was
contemplating taking a ride myself."

"You are an even bigger fool than I thought you were, Olivia.  You were
fool enough when you black mailed me into giving those boys trust funds
that they would come into at the ridiculously young age of eighteen.
See how much economic responsibility and wisdom they have?  This is a
young man I am supposed to turn over the leadership of a billion-dollar
empire to?  I warned you; I warned you.  Let me handle the money; let
me control the expenditures; but no, you had to ... to blackmail me
into giving them a small fortune to squander.

"And that's just what he has started to do... ^uander it.  I insist,
no, I demand that you order him to ^U this... this thing immediately
and attempt to Iccove^ most of the expenditure."

Garden of Shadows "I don't see how I can do that," I said, calm.  I
knew the calmer and softer I spoke, enraged he became.

"What!  Why not?"

"The money is his to do with what he cannot be checking with me every
time he spend some of it.  It would take away from his i dence, and his
assuming independence is a ver tant thing at this stage in his life," I
said.

"You 1 his age."

"I had more sense at his age!"  He glared at m are enjoying this,
aren't you?  You think this is at take some sort of sick revenge on me,
don't yd| "Of course not," I said, even though what M was true in a
sense.

"This will weigh heavily on your conscience warned me, waving his right
forefinger at me thri ingly.

"In the end y " wm '^g1' 1 not listening tct| he added with that
Fbxworth confidence I had ecu hate.  He looked away and stood there
silently moment.  I said nothing.  Then he turned back to:

could se118 that ne had Deen calming himself i enough to go on.

"So now you expect me to send my eldest son bacfcl Yale on a goddamn
motorcycle.  You are underminin me Olivia.  You know the plans I have
for Mal.  I can'| have him riding off like riffraff on some newfangled
machine.  And Joel look what you've turned him into a fairy musician,
and I warned you!  He'll end up useless, useless, I say."

"ABcia truly believed Joel was a prodigy," I re minded him tartly.

"She called him a musical genius, and he is, Malcolm, if you were only
sensitive enough to know that genius comes in many forms, not just in
the form of making money."

His lips trembled with acrimony.  His eyes positively glowed like hot
coals, brightening as the fire behind them raged.  The veins in his
temples pressed out against his skin as he worked his jaw.  He
swallowed and stepped forward, his shoulders rising, his chest puffed
out.

"You are using my sons to whip me.  Don't deny it.

You are swinging them about the way you would swing a whip against my
naked back, extracting some horrible satisfaction from each stroke. But
beware," he warned me.

"Your vengeance will rebound upon you."

"Don't try to pass the guilt on to me," I responded quickly.  The days
of his intimidating me were long over.

"I never encouraged the boys to disobey you.

They are who they are because of you, because you never spent enough
time with them to provide them with an example.  How many times have I
asked you, no, begged you to take more interest in them, to be more of
a father to them?

"But no, you had your own hardened views of what a father-son
relationship should be, punishing them because of the way you felt
about your own father.

"Well, now you are reaping that harvest.  You planted the seeds, not I.
And if the crop isn't to your liking, it's your doing, not mine."

"My sons may be lost to me," he stormed.

"But I still have my daughter.  And she is mine, Olivia, mine!  Do you
hear me?  And I will not permit her to ride around on dangerous
motorcycles like some teenaged harkrt.  I will not let you turn her
against me.  I will not have you threaten her young life riding around
oh tiaat thing!"

Garden of Shadows "Here she comes now, Malcolm.  Don't ruin this i for
her with your idiotic rage."

Corinne was running up the long driveway, wavinj Malcolm and me.  She
was still so far in the distano thought her wild gestures were the
result of her exe ment.  A dark cloud passed over the sun, and I co see
only her fluttering white hands, like tiny da beckoning to me, and
those bright blue eyes, 1 glowing sapphires, in her now pale face.  Oh,
ha known!  Had I known what those beautiful blue e had just seen!

"Mama!  Daddy!  Mama!  Daddy!"

I ran toward her.  I knew at once something i terribly wrong.

"Malcolm," I screamed.

"Maleo.

come at once!"

Corinne suddenly froze, and fell to her knees, we ing.

"Corinne!"  Malcolm screamed.

"My darling, will wrong?  Are you hurt?  Oh, my God!"

"Oh, Daddy, Daddy, it's Mal.  It's Mal, he ... God ... oh God .. ." she
sobbed.

"Are you okay, my precious," Malcolm moan holding her in his arms.

"What has happened to Mall  What has happened my son!"  I wailed.

"He ... we ... oh Lord, Mama, he told me to off and then ... and then
he ... he was going fast... oh, Mama."

"Where is my son!"

"The bike just went roaring.  Mama.  It all happel so fast.  Mal was
speeding down the road and then ..

"Yes?"  I didn't recognize my voice.  It sounded 1 an animal's.

"And then the bike just seemed to take off, Like Garden of Shadows was
flying, and the next thing I knew he went over the cliff and .. . oh
God, oh God .. . there was a horrible explosion and a huge cloud of
smoke rose and I ran home to get Daddy."

I began running, running down the driveway, running down the road.

"Mal, oh my son, my Mall"

I could see the smoke rising in a large black cloud, A fire, like a
burning sun, roared at the bottom of the cliff.  I tried to run toward
it, into it, but Malcolm's powerful arms stopped me.

"Stop, Olivia, you can't help him now."  Malcolm's voice was cold and
clipped.  I clawed at his arms like a wild woman.  I had to get to
Mal.

"It's my son!"  I screamed.

"I must save him!"

Malcolm Was shaking me, shaking me as he stared at the black smoke that
rose from the gulley.  Then he looked up at the sky, the sky gone
suddenly cold and distant.  He dropped me to the ground as he reached
for Corinne, who was weeping silently, watching the black smoke color
the sky black.  Color the day black, color all my days black from then
on.  Mal.  My first son.  My first love.  Mal.  I wanted to tear up the
ground, tear at the earth until there was nothing left.  Malcolm and
Corinne stared at me, as if my grief were too much for them to bear.

"I must go to him," I said, rising to my feet, but Corinne threw her
arms about my waist, and Malcolm looked at me, his cold blue eyes
burning ice into my soul.

"It's too late, Olivia.  You let your son go.

Mal'sdead."

"The Lord giveth, and the Lord take th away."

On the day we buried Mal it seemed the whole world was mourning with
us.  The sky was dark and angry, distant thunder rolling, as if God
were punctuating he sentence to remind us his wrath was all-;

he could crush us antlike mortals here below ii exhalation.  There were
hundreds of moun funeral--friends of Mal and Joel and Coa" colm's many
business and social acquainta one mourner was there on my side--John
last living relative, who had taken a train < Connecticut as soon as he
got my telegram" kept up a letter correspondence over the yeal had seen
young John Amos progress into a full man of God, a one-horse preacher
as we caIledH minister without a congregation.  On this day ne|
congregation, for he was delivering the funeral for my beloved Mal. fe
The silent scream that had resounded in my Ins three days was not
canned by John Amos's wonq "Our beloved Mal has gone to a better place
true Father has called him in the bloom of youth, i breast, and there
this innocent soul shall rest in eternally.  His Father has truly
claimed him."  Ma looked over at me, his cold blue eyes trying to j my
black veil.  We stood at the side of the ^ Corinne and Joel between us.
Joel clung to my Corinne to her father's.  In the two long days
since;!

horrible accident, Malcolm had not spoken a word| me, but I could see
in his glare he was trying to blafl me for Mat's death, silently
telling me that if I had) disobeyed his orders and allowed the
motorcycle, n dear son would be with me still.  Oh, it was so unfa that
Mal had been taken from me.  I wanted to cut c my hair, my hands, my
legs, I begged God to take n and give Mal back.  The world was out of
joint, ar truly I did blame mysetf.  Was Malcolm soattpowerf 288
Garden of' Shadows at be could enlist God's aid to punish those who
,He<j him?  I had stayed sequestered in my room, online and Joel would
come in to try to comfort me, jt they were suffering, too, really
suffering.  But how guld I comfort them?  Mal was dead.  Mal dead?  My
ante, dead?  In my mind's eye I saw him standing in nursery looking up
at me with those inquisitive s, his face serious, his posture erect.

"Will Father be taking us for a motor trip?"  he asked.

"He promised he would."

j^ "I don't know, Mal.  He makes promises and then forgets them."

, "Why doesn't he write them down then?"  he asked.  Such a logical
mind he had, even then.  And now he was dead.

? As the raindrops began to fall, and the thunder, growing closer,
began to boom, my darling Mal was lowered into his grave, and one by
one, Malcolm, myself, Joel, and Corinne picked up a handful of earth
and threw it on his coffin.  My veil hid my tears, but I was so weak I
could barely walk.  How I wanted to jump into that grave with him, to
be covered with dirt, to have the world blocked out from me.  But I had
to go on, I had to stay strong as John Amos had told me, for Corinne
for Joel.  Malcolm had remained distant even from Corinne, and she was
baffled, confused.  Both of them wondered if his love had died along
with Mal.

Joel was the most heartbroken.  He said almost nothing, but remained
constantly at my side tuned in to my every word, my every gesture, as
if he thought that somehow I could change events and bring his brother
back.  They had been so close to each other despite the differences m
ages and temperament.  ;l fcncw that Joel Garden of Shadows depended
upon and looked up to Mal.  Mal was buffer between him and his father,
a father he was s quite terrified of.  It was easy to see it; he said
noth to him during the entire period, gave him no comfc ing words or
gestures.

Corinne was beside herself with grief, blaming li self as I blamed
myself, wishing she could turn back dock and bring Mal back again.
Itwas John Amos, Malcolm, who tried to comfort her, calm her gu soothe
her grief.  Of all the Fbxworths, only Mate stood tall, dignified, and
alone in his grief.

The next day, Malcolm returned to his business.  3k Amos stayed on,
reading with us from the Bil holding Corinne's hands as she cried,
stroking h acting like the loving father Malcolm had always tx to her.
John Amos had grown into a tall, lanky n with dark brown hair so thin
he was actually bald prematurely.  It added dignity and maturity to
him.

had a minister's stern, pale face with pecan-brown e and a hard mouth,
his lips so straight they looked dra on by an artist.  He seemed much
older than thirty-one years, and much much wiser.

From my letters, he knew how important my b were to me, and he had some
idea about my re latii ship, and Malcolm's, with Corinne.  He knew exa<
how I felt about Malcolm.

It seemed he understood me in some deep bk way; he understood that I
was blaming myself, Malcolm blamed me, and he would not let me shouh
the blame alone.

"Olivia," he said, his warm, ca voice a balm to my spirit, "it is the
Lord who calls the Lord who metes out His justice.  He has taken av the
son Malcolm could not appreciate; perhaps ] message was for Malcolm, to
team to love what is his rather than trying to control it.  For you see
where control ends.  Do not blame yourself, Olivia.  God's plans are
often mysterious, but they are always just."

Malcolm did not like John Amos, but that was of little consequence to
me.  In fact, Malcolm's not liking him confirmed his value and
importance to me.  It was why, after the funeral when John Amos took
such a firm hold of things helping me with the servants, preparing for
the visiting mourners, comforting members of the family I decided I
wanted him to stay with us at Foxworth Hall.  Already Corinne was due
to go back to school.  And I could tell she was ready to leave this
dark, gloomy house of mourning.  She loved Mal as much as any young
girl toves her brother, but for one so full of life and love and hope,
death's shadow does not linger as it does for those of us with fewer
hopes and dreams before us.  The day we saw Corinne off, I proposed to
John Amos that he stay on.  John seemed genuinely nattered by the idea
He wasn't happy with the work he was presently doing.  I called him
into the salon.

"I would like you to stay on," I began, "at Baxworth Hall and become
something of an assistant to me.

Officially, you will be considered our butler, but you and I will
always know that you will be more to me," I said.  Grief, so deeply
felt, had a way of weakening me.

I felt as if I had been east in a new form and I wore my body like a
suit of armor hiding a heart and will gone slack and impotent.  Truly,
I couldn't bear to live here any longer alone with Malcolm.  I couldn't
bear having to fight him and his megalomania plans day after day.  I
needed ran aHy, someone to give me^gtrea^h, to help Garden of Shadows
me to take my side.  I needed John Amos.  And he ^ a man of God, a
godly, god fearing man who we deflect and thwart Malcolm's evil
intentions.  I we not let him drive another of my sons to death, ]
would I let him take over Corinne's life as he plain to do.

"Please, John Amos, won't you stay?  You are sue comfort to me.  I feel
you are truly my family--the o family I have left, and I need your
strong Christ hand to guide me."

John nodded thoughtfully.

"I have always admired you, Olivia," he said, ":

mired you for your strength of purpose, your sense determination; but
most of all, for your faith in G and His ways.  Even now, in your
mourning, you do i blame God for being unmerciful.  You are an ins pi
don.  More women should want to be like you," he sa nodding as though
he had just arrived at a signific, conclusion.

I understood why Malcolm didn't like him.  He i Malcolm's way of making
statements with an air certainty, but whereas Malcolm arrived at his
cone sfons from an arrogant faith in himself, John An arrived at his
from a strong faith in God and God's w "Thank you, John.  But contrary
to what you th ini am a woman with weaknesses too.  I will need somec
beside me to help me with my children and to help i maintain this house
in the proper manner and spirit, added.

"I understand, and I can think of no greater purpo;

Long ago, I understood that my calling lay in directic others were
afraid or unwilling to take.  The Lord t ys way fifsaiicHs^, His
soldiers," he sad, juiflafe.

"I think," I said, looking at him intently, "you saw today some of what
I have been describing to you in my letters.  You should understand why
I sometimes feel alone here," I added.

"Yes.  And you have more than my understanding.

You have my sympathy and my dedication."  Those brown eyes of his,
although not bright and warm, grew quite fixed.  He stepped forward.

"I pledge to you, Olivia," he said, "that as long as I am here at your
side, you shall never feel alone."

I smiled slightly and lifted my hand.  He took it and in that handshake
made a covenant with me and with God Almighty.  It was the most
reassuring thing that had happened to me in years.

When I brought the news to Malcolm, he had his characteristic reaction.
He had retreated to the library.

The pall of silence that had fallen over Foxworth Hall lingered like
the heavy humid air right before a summer rain.  The lights were dim,
the sky outside starless and cloudy.  Unmerciful winds clawed at the
windows.  To me it was like the grinding teeth of some vicious,
vengeful beast.

Malcolm was standing with his back to the doorway, his hands clasped
behind his back, looking up at the books on a high shelf.  He didn't
turn when I entered, even though I knew he had heard my footsteps.  I
waited a moment.

"I have made a decision," I said finally, "to hire my cousin, John
Amos, to be our butler."

Malcolm spun around.  The expression on his face was almost hideous, a
mixture of grief and anger that distorted his features.  Never had his
mouth looked as twisted, his eyes a cold.

Garden of Shadows "What butler?  We have a manservant."  He m<
ordinary words sound like profanity.

"A man who serves as driver as well.  It's not pro] and it is a foolish
economy, undignified for a family '< a house as important as ours," I
replied sternly.

"At this time you think about servants?"  He seen both amazed and
upset.

"You didn't go to work today and receive busin calls?  You didn't give
your subordinates orders to ca out?  Your mind was solely on Mal?"  I
asked in the to of accusation.  He shook his head, but not to deny wl I
said, only to dramatize his disgust.

"I don't like this man.  He's too .. too sly-look for my taste."

"Nevertheless, I have hired him.  The running of i house has always
been and will always be my res pox bility.  It's necessary for us to
have a servant solely perform the responsibilities of a butler, and
John An has the background for such responsibility.  He fi decent,
religious man, who understands the needs people of our class.  He has
agreed to take on 4 position and he will begin immediately."

"He will be your butler, not mine," Malcolm s defiantly.

"Suit yourself.  In time I am sure you will grow appreciate the man," I
added calmly: , He turned his back on me and stared up at thebw
again.

"Joel is leaving in the morning," I said.  He did turnaround.

"That is good.  He is better off returning to sch< and occupying,
himself with his studies than mopi about here.  He will only add to the
depression,"!

said, and waved to the side as though he were dismissing me.  I
straightened my posture.

"He is not returning to school," I said.  That turned Malcolm around
again.

"What?  Not returning to school?  What do you mean?  Where is he
going?"

"Before Mal's death, he auditioned for an orchestra and they were
impressed with his talents.  They have offered him a position for their
current tour of Europe.

He will go directly to Switzerland."

Malcolm fumed.

"Tour!

Orchestra!  Switzerland!"  he said, waving his arms with every word.

"A Foxworth, a professional musician, earning coolie wages and
traveling with a bunch of spineless .. . effeminate .. . artsy types
... I won't hear of it!  I won't hear of it, do you understand?"

"Nevertheless, it is what he wants," I said, again fanning his fury by
speaking so calmly.

"I will not force another of my sons to extremes to prove that he can
live his own life rather than the one you dictate."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed, and he was silent for many moments.

"Let him understand," he said, pronouncing each word with a hateful,
vicious tone, "that if he leaves this house to begin such a venture, he
will never be welcomed back to it."

"I understand that.  Father."

We both spun around to see Joel in the library doorway.  He was
standing there with a suitcase in each hand.  I did not know he had
intended to leave that very night.

"I was coming down here to tell you this myself," he said.

Garden of Shadows "And I meant what I just said," Malcolm pointing his
finger at him.

"If you throw away formal education to go tooting a horn throug Europe,
I'll write you out of my will."

For a long moment Joel and Malcolm con tempi each other.  It was as
though father and son saw other for the first time and really
understood wh( other was.  If Joel had any fears, his gentle face and
blue eyes did not reveal them.  If anything, he lo like a martyr
forgiving the violent and hateful t;

who was sentencmg him to death.  I saw a smile ar< his lips.

"You never understood me.  Father; nor did you understand Mal," he said
with no anger in his vi "Neither of us were so driven by your pursuit
of almighty dollar

"That's because you always had so many of the Malcolm retorted.

"If you were poor, you wouldn standing there so cocky and defiant."

"Maybe not," Joelsaid.

"But I wasn't poor and what I am," He looked at me.

"Good-bye, Moth shall miss you very much.  Please walk with me to door.
There is a car waiting for me outside."

"You are going to permit this?"  Malcolm asked When I looked at Joel, I
saw so much of myself v face.  It was as if I were leaving, as if I
were escaf escaping the sorrow and the torment, escaping the shadows
that seemed to reside permanent is FoxworthHall.

"It is what he wants," I said softly, staring at 1 "He is old enough to
be able to make his own deca He has a right to his own decision."  s
"This is madness and your doing," Malcolm i 2% Garden of Shadows
pointing the accusing finger at me.

"It will add to your already heavy burden of guilt."

"What?"  I took a few steps toward him, feeling my face bum with
rage.

"You stand there and try to place the guilt on my head?  You, who have
brought sin into this house, invited it in as though it were a welcomed
guest?  You have eaten beside it, walked beside it, and slept with it,"
I added.

"You have brought the wrath of God down on the House of Fbxworth, not
I. If anyone stands bearing the guilt, it is you," I responded,
pointing my accusing finger at him.

He looked at Joel and then turned away.

I went to Joel and the two of us walked out to the front doorway arm in
arm.  John Amos, already assuming some responsibility, had brought
Joel's trunk to the car.  He took the suitcases and carried them out as
well.

Joel and I stood in the great doorway of Fbxworth Hall and looked out
at the car and the darkness that now surrounded us.

"I am sorry to leave you at this time of grief," he said, "but I fear
if I don't go now, I will never go.  Mal would have wanted me to go.  I
can almost see him standing there by the piano, smiling, cheering me
on," Joel added, smiling at the image.

"Yes, I suppose he would," I said.  I envisioned Mal as well, and the
vision filled my heart with a heavy I aching.  It gave birth to a
little gray bird of anxiety that fluttered wildly in the cage of my
ribs, but I hid these feelings from him.

"How I will miss you, Joel," I said, grasping his hands in mine and
bringing them to my lips to kiss them.

"You are my only son, my beloved Joel, it's only you now.  Please go
with God, and be happy."

"Thank you.  Mother."  He leaned forward and kissed Garden of Shadows
your son was a failure, Malcolm," I sneered.

"But lo how the world worships him!"

Then one day, the first day of spring, just as t world, and me with it,
had begun to open its arms to 1 again, a telegram arrived.  No good
news had ever coi my way in a telegram, and I sat and stared at the
yell envelope, trembling, afraid to open it.

"Joel," I wh pered involuntarily, for somehow, even before opened it, I
knew what was inside.

HERR MALCOLM FOX WORTH STOP

WITH DEEPEST REGRETS I AM TO INFORM YOU YOUR SON

JOEL WAS LOST IN AN AVALANCHE STOP WE HAV|

BEEN UNABLE TO RECOVER HIS BODY AND THOSE OF WA

FIVE COMPANIONS STOP MAY I EXTEND MY HEARTi

PELT SYMPATHIES 1

I crumpled the telegram in my hand, and stared'| the window.  I didn't
cry or moan; for this son,3'!

second son, I had no tears left to shed.  They had fldj and flowed out
of me for Mal, and now my hearty bone dry and barren.  I grieved like a
desert grievg desert that allows nothing to grow, a desert where^j only
passion is the blowing of sand, the shrouding <1| that lives.  Once
again my world had turned utif irrevocably gray.

"H

Malcolm, too, acted strangely.  At first he refus^f believe Joel was
really dead.  I showed him the cjj pled telegram the moment he returned
from a busj trip.  I said nothing.  I just handed it to him to re|l
soon as he came through the front door.  |1 "What kind of a thing is
this?"  he said.

"Lo^B avalanche?"  He handed the telegram back to flj though it were a
business idea he was rejecting, U Garden of Shadows walked away to
busy himself with his paperwork in the library.

But when the official documentation arrived, a police report, neither
he nor I could deny it to ourselves.

Then I cried; then my heart tore; then I found the hidden well of my
tears just under my parched soul.

The memories rushed back over me, and all I could see throughout that
big house were Joel and Mal sitting together or walking together,
playing together and eating together.  Sometimes a shadow would fall in
such a way that I thought I saw their faces in the darkness.

Sometimes I would secretly visit the nursery, and almost see the three
of them, Christopher, .Mal, and Joel, Mal acting as though he were
their teacher arid Joel and Christopher looking up at him with filff
attention.  I would lift up their old toys and hold them to my breast,
weeping uncontrollably;

Malcolm went into seclusion in the library.  I was incapable of
preparing for Joel's memorial myself, and if it weren't for John Amos,
my beloved second son, my sensitive Joel, might not have had the proper
service to welcome him into God's home.  John Amos was such a help to
me, he even traveled to Corinne's boarding [ school to deliver the
tragic news to her in person and to t bring her back to Fbxworth Hall.
On the morning of the t nemo rial service, Corinne and I donned the
same I black dresses we'd worn for Mal's funeral, and drifted like two
ghosts down the winding stairs to the rotunda.

A black-veiled carriage, hired by John Amos, awaited bs before the
front door.  John waited stoically by the A>or of the carriage.

, "I'm afraid Malcolm will not be attending the ser^ce," he
announced.

"He asked me to escort you Iftere."  , ^ , .....,.."_, ...- .

Garden of Shadows I lifted my veil and looked around.  The serva were
waiting, all dressed in black, ready to attend i services and mourn the
beautiful little boy they I watched grow into a man.  But the boy's
father < nowhere to be seen.  I stormed into Malcolm's libra He was
seated at his desk, but he had his back to it."

had turned the chair around and was facing the wind behind him.

The sky was a pale gray and the air had turned rat) cool for a March
day.  It was a day without promise sun, a mirror of my life.

"How dare you not attend your son's service," shouted.  He didn't move
or acknowledge my presei in any way.  I suddenly became frightened for
him.  V it pity I felt?  Pity for a man who tried to destroy sons'
spirits?  Pity for Malcolm Fbxworth?  He looked small and lost
surrounded by all his possessions, hunting trophies, his business
ledgers, his preci< objets dart, the ghosts of all the women he had
sedu< in his study.  I leaned over him and gently touched back.

"Malcolm," I said quietly, "this is a service our son, your son."  He
lifted his hand slowly and tt dropped it back to the arm of the
chair.

"How can 5 not attend?"

"It's wrong," he finally said.  His voice sounc strange to me, like an
echo distant and hollow.  ' funeral without a body.  What are we
burying?"

stammered.

"It is a service in honor of his memory, in honor his soul, Malcolm," I
said, coming farther around ui I almost faced him.  Still, he did not
turn my way.".

shook his head.

"What if they found him alive after we had sucl  w ceremony?  I won't
go through the mockery of it.  I won't be part of it," he said, his
voice still drained of energy, his face unchanged.

"But you saw the police report.  You read the details.

It was an official document," I said.  What point did it serve to
ignore reality now?  Why, of all people, was Malcolm attempting to do
it?

I believe he thought he could postpone reality, postpone the aching
guilt.  I believe he believed that if he attended the memorial service,
there would no longer be any way of avoiding the truth.

"Go," he said.

"Leave me be."

"Malcolm," I began, "if you " He spun around in his seat, his eyes
bloodshot, his face so contorted with anger and pain, I hardly
recognized him.  I actually stepped back.  It was as though he had been
possessed by some dark creature, perhaps the devil himself.

"Go!"  he ordered me.

"Leave me be."  Then he turned away.

I stood there looking at him for a long moment and then left him alone
in the shadows, staring into his own thoughts.

Most of those who had attended Mal's funeral at tended the service for
Joel.  No one came to me directly to ask where Malcolm was, but I heard
the whispering around me and saw people questioning John Amos.

Corinne stood by me, but she looked lost and forlorn without Malcolm to
hold on to.

Malcolm kept himself shut up in the library for days afterward and,
oddly enough, permitted only John Amos to bring him any food and drink.
Whenever I went in to speak with him, I found him still sitting in
Garden of Shadows shadows, staring out the window.  He barely resp on
Only later did John Amos tell me that Malcolm going through a religious
transformation.

One night toward the end of the week, I sat a with John at the dinner
table.  Corinne had no app( She had gone to speak with Malcolm, hoping
to c him up and blow away the clouds of gloom that I above us in
Foxworth Hall.  She loved her brothe but she was young and the world
was before her, she wanted to begin living again.

Suddenly, she stormed out of Malcolm's study.

hopeless," she announced, "Daddy won't stop me ing!  No one will!  I
love Joel and Mal, too, but I wa live, I want to be able to smile and
laugh aga must!"

John was reading a passage from the Psalms.

often sat together like this and read from the Bible would talk about
the scriptures and John would ways of relating it to our lives.

"Mama," Corinne pleaded.

"Is it so wrong for ri want to live and be happy again?  Is it so wrong
f6;

to want to attend parties again, and dress in beau clothes again, and
see my friends again?"

John Amos looked up from the Bible, but he d stop reading.  Corinne
stood there impatiently unt reached the end of a section and paused.

"I can't get Daddy to talk to me," she said.

won't even come to the door."  She looked from n John Amos, who put the
Bible on his lap and sat b Sometimes, when he looked at her, he
reminded n a man studying a fine jewel, turning it over and ow his
fingers to catch the way the light was reflected I "Your father is in
deep meditation at the mome he said.

"You reaBy shoaldtft dsturb him."

Garden of Shadows "But how long will this deep meditation go on?  He
doesn't eat with us; he doesn't sleep in his room, and now he won't
even talk to me," she protested.

"You of all people should feel sorry for him," I told her.  I put on a
stem face.

"And appreciate what he's going through."

"I do.  That's why I want him to come out, but he won't come to the
door when I knock and call.  I can't stand this .. . this horrible
sadness."

"At this particularly sad time," John Amos began, "we shouldn't be
thinking about our own discomfort.  It is very selfish to do so.  You
should be thinking about your lost brother," he added softly but
firmly.

"I have thought about him and thought about him.

But he's dead and gone.  There is nothing I can do anymore to bring him
back!"  she exclaimed, her eyes wide, her face filled with pent-up
energy.

"You can pray for him," John said softly.  I saw how his calm, pious
tone added to her disappointment.

"But I have.  How much can I pray?"  She turned to me.

"You can pray until you stop thinking of yourself first and think of
him.  It doesn't surprise me that you are this way now.  Your father
has spoiled you and made you self-centered," I told her.  She pouted. I
knew how frustrated she was.  Corinne could not tolerate refusal, and
refusal was everywhere around her now.

"Join us in prayer," John said, gesturing toward her empty chair

"I'm going to go back to Daddy to try to get him to talk to me," she
said, and turned away quickly.

"Corinne!"  I called.

"It's all right," John said.

"Let her go for now.  I will speak to her later."  He tome ii back; to
the Bible.

Garden of Shadows I sat with John and prayed and studied the Bible
waited.  The lights were low, memorial candles bur everywhere. Foxworth
Hall had been turned in tomb.  Through the imposed silence, the
slightest 1 steps echoed.  Gloom not only hung about the wal Foxworth
Hall, turning everything gray and dul hung from the trees, filling the
world with cobwel sorrow.  It rained on and off for days, the drops tap
on the windows and roof, hammering in the misei John Amos was a great
comfort during these c Dressed in black, his face pale and ascetic, he
m< about the rooms with the grace and stillness of a mi He commanded
the other servants with a gestui look.  No one raised his voice for
fear of shattering solemn air he created whenever he entered a room
seemed to slide over the floor, ooze over the walls around corners. 
Sometimes he simply materialized room.  Even the maids who brought out
my dishes glasses struggled to maintain the greatest sue watching him
carefully out of the corners of their to be sure his face showed no
disapproval.

One night after I had eaten, John brought me coffee.  He put the coffee
cup and saucer down be me as though they were made of air, and stepped
b I looked down the long table and thought al Malcolm still refusing to
come out of his study.

"How long does he intend to remain in there;

asked.  I was beginning to feel Corinne's impatient "He has become
Job," John Amos responded;

stentorian voice.  He sounded like an Old Testae prophet predicting
Malcolm's destiny.  He didn't i directly at me when he spoke.  It was
as if he n speakreg to a 6d WMyvy^wm of.  devoted follow Garden of
Shadows "Only now when he asks why hast God forsaken him, he knows the
answer.  The Lord has smitten his two sons, taken from him his male
seed, his Foxworth lineage, something he cherished almost as much as
life itself."

"You spoke to him directly about it?"  I asked, fascinated by any
change in Malcolm.  I had always thought him molded so solidly in his
form that the slightest change would crack and shatter him.

"We knelt beside each other on the floor of the library just an hour
ago," John said.

"I recited the prayers.  I told him God Was wrathful and angry and that
all we could hope for was some respite from His vengeance.  Knowing
what I knew of his life, I talked about King David and his taking of
Bathsheba, how David had turned his back on his God and how God brought
down His vengeance on his house.  Malcolm understood.

"He no longer blames you or the boys for what happened to them; he
blames himself and he is trying to come to terms with that.  He
understands that he can do such a thing only by giving himself over to
Jesus Christ our savior," John said, his eyes lifted toward heaven.

"Let us pray for one another," he added.  We both bowed our heads, he
standing beside me, me sitting at the table.

"Oh, Lord, help us to understand Your ways and help us to help one
another.  Forgive us our weaknesses and permit us to grow stronger from
our travail."

"Amen," I said.

The mood in the house did change when Malcolm finally emerged from his
self-imposed exile.  He was indeed diSeiettL He looked physically
weaker and older, and in many ways he reminded me of Garian during his
final year.  He didn't stand as straight or wal with his usual
self-confidence and arrogance.  When h spoke to me or to the servants,
his voice was lower an he often looked away, as though facing anyone
straigl on would expose his guilt.

His complexion never regained its healthy, viri] look; his blue eyes
dimmed like weakened light bulb!

He moved through Fbxworth Hall like another shadov robed in a funereal
atmosphere, spending most of h time reading the Bible and talking with
John Amo;

Sometimes the three of us sat together and read th Good Book.  John
would do most of the reading and good deal of the explaining.

I felt that God had sent John Amos to us, that John' letters to me and
his arrival at Mal's funeral was all pai of His overall plan for
Malcolm arid myself.

It was Corinne whom John saw as the greate;

challenge.  She was rebellious.  She said, "If God is kind God, He
wouldn't ask us to give up all th pleasures the world has to offer
us."

"Who said God was kind?"  John Amos posed th question.  ' But Corinne
would just giggle and shrug her shou ders.

"I believe God made us to find happiness o earth," she would say,
tossing her head.  Sometimes stt would even chuck John Amos under the
chin an admonish him to cheer up.

"God said let there b light."

I noticed that she could never enter a room wit hoc his watching her
and-speaking to her and getting her ti speak to him.  He seemed to dote
on her in much th same manner Malcolm had.  ;

He was not beyond bringing things-up toner room to

S10

her.  But soon she was back at school and we were childless again.

"It is so good to have you with us," I told John, "at these, our
greatest times of need.  Even Malcolm has come to believe that and I am
grateful."

"I am glad to be here, Olivia."

That summer Corinne blossomed into a truly beautiful young woman.  She
looked more and more like Alicia every day.  The Foxworth traits she
inherited only complimented the delicate features her mother possessed.
Her hair grew more golden as the summer progressed, her eyes took on
the deep blue of the midsummer sky, and her complexion was as soft as a
summer cloud.  It was as though some divinely inspired artist had
fashioned her.  Corinne knew how beautiful she was.  I could see her
confidence and her ego growing.  She revealed it in her walk, the way
she held her shoulders back and her head high.

She knew the power that such beauty possessed too.

I saw the way she looked at men, flirted with her eyes and her laugh,
even turning her coquettish devices on John Amos.  It was already
important to her that when she walked into a room, all eyes be on
her.

With midsummer beauty now in and out and around our house, I felt a
sense of optimism and hope.  Because of our new faith in God, Malcolm
and I had settled into a more comfortable and cordial relationship. Our
strengthened faith and commitment was our common ground.

And so when the letter from Alicia arrived, I felt it was part of God's
great new design for us.  I recognized the handwriting immediately.
The letter was addressed Garden of Shadows to Malcolm, and when I
looked at the return addr< felt excited.  Gradually, through Corinne's
develop from a child into a woman, Alida had been co back to us.  Now,
when she was looking so much her mother and Alida was heavily on my
mind, Al letter had arrived.  From the name she used, I qu gathered
that she had remarried.

I held the letter in my hand for a long mon considering what Malcolm's
reaction would be wh( discovered I had opened and read it.  But th
thought, after what had happened and after what ] done; anything
pertaining to Alida now was my i as well as his.  He had no right to
privacy when it < to her.  I opened the envelope and took out the see
pink stationery.

Dear Malcolm, By the time you have received this letter, I shall that
much closer to the end of what has become a rail sad and disappointing
existence.  But be assured I am i attempting to encourage any sympathy
for myself.  I i beyond that and I have come to understand and acc< the
inevitability of my own impending death.  Knowi your love of details, I
will tell you that I have be diagnosed as suffering from breast cancer,
a cancer tl has spread too rapidly for there to be any medt rescue.  No
handsome young and brilliant doctor s sweep into my hospital room and
work any mag Death's grip is too tight.  The Grim Reaper, as Garte used
to say, has his hand firmly about my throat.  E enough about me.  :

I remarried shortly after leaving Fbxworth Hall' return to Richmond.  I
married a doctor, but a sny town general practitioner, whose-patients
often paid-H

Garden of Shadows in jars of fruit and pickles.  Despite my money, we
lived a rather simple life in his modest home.  In fact, he didn't want
to know about my money.  It was always a source of pride for my new,
devoted husband that he be the provider.

So I took your advice and left my fortune in the stock market, but
unfortunately, not being very wise about these matters, I did not
withdraw any of it in time to avoid the famous Black Monday.  To put it
simply, I tost all of my fortune in the Depression.  Of course, my
husband, being a man of simple tastes, did not mourn this loss.

Shortly after that he passed away from a chronic illness that suddenly
intensified.  Being the man that he was, he kept the seriousness of his
illness a secret from me until it was no longer possible for him to do
so.

However, all this has left me with another great deep and tragic
disappointment my inability to send Christopher to medical school.

Christopher has grown into a fine young man, as handsome as his father.
He is very bright and at the top of his high school graduating class.
All of his teachers encourage him to go on in the pursuit of his dream
to become a physician.

Now, with my life coming to its tragic end, my fortune gone, my new
husband no longer around to be of assistance, I have no one to turn to
but to you.  I beg of you, consider my request, if not for my sake or
for Christopher's, then for Garland's.

Find a place in your heart for him.  Take him in and send him to
medical school.  He will be an endless source of pride to you.

Of course, he knows nothing about Corinne or about the even that
ted'up'to my departure frota Rwworth Garden of Shadows Hall.  He knows
he is the son of Garland Fbxworth and he has a stepbrother, but other
than that, he knows very little about his family background.  I will
leave it up to you to tell him what you wish.

I know that Olivia will love Christopher and be will love her.  I
remember how wonderfully she treated him while I was up in the north
wing.  He is a polite and respectful young man who will bring only joy
and, happiness to you both, :

Malcolm, I beg you from a dying bed, to find it in your heart to grant
this wish.  Put aside any bad feelings you;

might have for me and for the sadness we all experienced;, and think
only of your father's son, a boy driven to| become a doctor, and help
him reach his goal.  & I know God will bless you for it..1 Hopefully
yours,| : Alicia|

I put the letter down, and sighed.  Memories of ca for little
Christopher rushed back.  Surely the re tun this golden-haired child
was God's way of forgivin( our sins.  He had taken Mal and Joel and now
he ' giving us Christopher.

Even Alicia's tragic end was part of God's pi From what she said in her
letter, I couldn't help ;

believe Malcolm had invested her funds in poor sto as a form of some
revenge.  He was obligated to refi his wrong.  I was determined to
convince him.  Bell doing so, I discussed my thoughts with John Amos <
he was in total agreement.  ;

I waited for Malcolm in a front salon, prepare discuss the matter.  He
returned home from his y somewhat earlier than usual, looking
fatigued.

"Malcolm, I must speak with you,"J-saji,d.  W | responding, he followed
me into the salon and sat down on the blue velvet settee.  I remained
standing, AHda's letter in my hand.

"A letter arrived today, a letter from Auda," I said, and for the first
time in weeks, his eyes brightened and his face filled with interest.

"From Aliria?  What does she want?"  For a moment his renewed energy
and obvious excitement disturbed me.  I made him wait.  I walked to the
chair across from him, contemplated sitting in it, and then turned back
to him.  He was practically on the edge of the settee.

"Did she write to you?"  he asked, his voice rising with
anticipation.

"No.  The letter was addressed to you.  But as soon as I saw from whom
it had come, I opened it.  I have a right," I added quickly.

"What does she want?"  he demanded.

"She is dying, dying of cancer; and she is bankrupt.  I will give you
the letter so you can read the details, but the most important issue is
Christopher."

"Christopher?  Why?"

"He is seventeen; he has graduated from high school, and he wants to be
a doctor.  Apparently, he has the capability to do so, but she no
longer has the funds.  She wants us to take him in and send him to
medical school," I said, and thrust the letter at him.  He took it
greedily and perused its contents quickly, his face changing expression
until it returned to his characteristic stem look.

"I feel sorry for her, but the boy should make his own way in the
world," he said.

"I think not, and neither does John Amos.  We both think this is
God'swill," I added quickly.

"God's tv ?  How & this God's will?  Are we to take Garden of Shadows
in every waif?"  he asked, gesturing at the doorw though tens of
thousands of orphans waited for ei "I hardly think your father's son is
a waif.  Male And he is your stepbrother," I said, pressing m) together
tightly.

"Just because she squandered a fortune, a--" "A fortune you invested
for her and never All her about properly," I said quickly.

"Malcolm, will er your motives were then no longer matter.  We been
given an opportunity to rectify the mistakes o past.  It is we who will
be squandering if we don't up this chance to do what is right and good.
You i make peace with your troubled soul, and by carin;

your father's son, a promising young man no1 terrible distress, you
will have gone far toward d so.  Alicia is dying.  We cannot turn our
backs on h this time," I said.

He stared up at me for a long moment and looked at the letter again.

"What kind of a marriage did she make for he after she left here if the
man, a doctor, left nothinj Christopher?"  he asked, looking down at
the letti though he could see and question Alida through ;

"That is beside the point.  Anyway, Christopher not her new husband's
son.  He is not of his blood;

of yours.  We have more reason to provide for Malcolm," I repeated, "it
is God's will."

After a moment he nodded slowly.

"Very well," he said, and sat back.

"Send word let it be so."

I left him in the salon, the letter clutched in his h his eyes locked
in a vision of the past.  I did not wij question what it was he saw.
Instead, I reporter decision to John and he saw to the correspondence
and made the arrangements for Christopher's arrival.

Malcolm's only requirement was that I explain the situation to Corinne.
I knew that he didn't trust himself to do so.  I called her to my
bedroom, something I rarely did, and sat her down to listen.  She was
intrigued from the moment I began.  She looked up at me expectantly,
her eyes burning with interest.  I stood before her, my hands behind my
back for a moment, phrasing my thoughts carefully before speaking.

"As you know, your father's father remarried when he was quite along in
his years and he married a woman considerably younger than he was."

"Yes, Alida," she said quickly, "and she slept in the Swan Room."

"Alicia and Garland, your grandfather, had one child, a son named
Christopher.  I know that Mal and Joel often spoke about him."  She
nodded slightly.

"Your father never approved of Alicia, nor did he approve of his
father's marriage.  When your grandfather died, your father insisted
Alicia leave JRoxworth Hall with her son.  She did so.  She returned to
her home in Richmond, where she eventually remarried a man who,
unfortunately, suffered a serious illness and died as well."

"How dreadful," Corinne said.

"Yes.  Even more dreadful, perhaps, she lost all her income in the
terrible stock market crash and became quite poor.  Now we have learned
that Alicia herself is dying of cancer.  Her son is seventeen and quite
brilliant.  She has written to us requesting that we take Christopher
in and provide him with a coHege education so he can become ai doctor
Ifour father and I haw agreed and Christopher will be arriving here
Foxworth shortly.  He will go on to Yale, your fat he alma mater, but
this will be his home until he gradua and sets up a practice."

She stared at me to be sure I had finished.

"How wonderful," she said finally.

"And gene rom "It's God's will," I said.  Corinne nodded quickly.

expect you to act properly when he arrives.  Make h feel at home.
Remember that despite the fact that tbn are only three years between
you, he is your half ua and should be thought of in that manner."

"It will be good to have someone in the house to U to," she said.

"I mean someone who is not an a<| yet," she added quickly, ^ I knew
what she really meant--someone who spfl of things other than God and
gloom.

"Nevertheles&l is practically an adult.  Don't distract him fronatj
purpose."  Then I smiled.

"Christopher was sue| wonderful boy.  I'm sure he's grown into a
deligl| young man.  I think the two of you win get a|| wonderfully," I
kissed her on the forehead.  I dgj blame her for her excitement.
Boxworth Hau J| become a large, empty house for her since the deaq Mal
and Joel.  Christopher's arrival brought theproi| of new light and
life, not only for her, but for in^ well.  I couldn't help recalling
the sweet child tbsSS was, how polite and affectionate and thoughtful
hell| Like Corinne, I was filled with happy anticipation Christopher
arrived on a bright summer day, aq seemed as if the sun had followed
him into the hij Alicia had passed away only a month before, ij Amos
had gone as our emissary and had handled^ funeral arrangements, and
after a proper mocq period, brought Christopher back with him.  ^J I
could remember Christopher only as a child alongside Mat and Joel, but
the moment he entered Foxworth Hall, I saw that those handsome
qualities he had inherited from Garland and those beautiful qualities
he had inherited from Alicia had been developed and embellished.  I saw
something of Mal and something of Joel in him as well, and those
characteristics endeared him to me.

He bad grown into a tall, handsome man.  When I saw him standing there
in the sunlight, it.  was as if his golden hair were haloed by an aura
of light I sensed a gentle, beautiful temperament in him.  He radiated
an inner peace that warmed my heart.  , He stood there wide-eyed,
obviously not remembering much of Foxworth Hall.  From what John Amos
told me, I knew he came from a four-room cottage into this huge, grand
house that dazzled him.  He looked at Malcolm and me with such an
expression of gratitude that I was actually embarrassed.  He didn't
understand that half of this entire estate, indeed, half of Malcolm's
businesses, rightfully belonged to him.

Then I felt sorry for him, standing there, holding his two suitcases
and gaping about.  He wore shabby shoes and clothing that looked worn.
I was about to direct John to take his things up to his room, when
Corinne appeared on the staircase.

She had come running down the first half and then stopped abruptly in
the middle.  Christopher looked up at her.  She had dressed in her
prettiest light blue cotton dress.  Her golden hair was washed and
curled so that it gleamed richly.

1 saw Christopher's eyes sparkle with surprise and interest.  My heart
skipped a beat.  Would they sense who they were to each other?  Was
there something in Garden of Shadows their blood that would signal
their relatioaship?  T both had that thick, flaxen blond hair and those
cer an blue eyes and that peaches-and-cream complexu looked at Malcolm
quickly to note his reaction to stepbrother.  I saw the pleasure in his
face as he read own and Alicia's lineage in Christopher's face.

obviously approved of the young man before him I hesitated no longer.

"Christopher, welcome," I said, stepping for war him.

"It is sadness and tragedy that brings you h but hopefully you will
find happiness and joy here < us in Foxworth Hall."  I wanted to
embrace him, had when he was a child.  But I stopped myself.  A all, he
was now a grown man, and practically a strai to me.

"Thank you...."  I could see he was struggling f way to address me.  I
was, after all, in his mind, sister-in-law.

"Olivia," he finally said, and looked u Corinne again.

"This is Corinne, our daughter.  Corinne, come d< and properly greet
your uncle," I said, stressing word "uncle."  She brushed back a lock
of her go!

hair, rested her hand on her bosom, and drifted d< the staircase with
a. radiant smile lighting her fao "How do you do," Christopher said,
and ex ten his hand.  Corinne took it and then looked at quickly.  I
nodded as she greeted him and quk released her hold on his fingers.
Then we all looker Malcolm.  , "Christopher," he began, "John Amos will
take y things to your room and show you where you ' reside.  After you
are finished unpacking, I would I you down in the library, where you
and I will disc Garden of Shadows your residence here and your college
education," Malcolm said in a most formal, cool tone.

It didn't seem to discourage Christopher, however.

He smiled that gentle, beautiful, trusting smile and thanked Malcolm.
Then he allowed John Amos to lead him forward and up to his room in the
north wing.

He paused at the center of the staircase as though just remembering
something important, and turned back to look at Corinne, who stood
there staring up at him.  He smiled at her and continued on.  Malcolm
had already gone to the library.

I waited a moment and then turned to Corinne.

"Remember our discussion," I said, hiding my own nervousness behind a
mask of sternness.

"He is your uncle," I added, feeling the need to underline that
deception strongly.

"Don't forget that."

She looked at me with the oddest expression on her face.

"Why, of course I won't forget it.  Look how much we look alike," she
added in a happy voice, and hurried up the stairs after them.

Christopher Garland Foxworth christopher BROUGHT A BURST OF UGHT INTO
OUR 1 again.  Corinne.  John Amos, Malcolm, and I :< drawn to him like
moths, to the brightness of his go!

hair, to his brilliant, radiant smile.

"Good morning, Olivia," he would say upon |o i me for breakfast, "don't
you look lovely this mon ri "Don't tease and natter an old woman," I w
insist.

"Tease and flatter?"  he would say, and his blue i filled with the
purest light, a blue light found in freshest mountain lakes.

"I meant it from the bottoi my heart."  Then, with a boyish smile and a
hea appetite he would butter his blueberry pancakes say, "Even as a
little boy, Olivia, I remember you < the best cook.  You always made
cookies, the kindi raisins in them.  You were always so kind to me."

My heart would fill with a joy I'd forgotten d exist in this earthly
life.  ^ With Malcolm, Christopher could discuss the i intricate of
business plans.

"Tin not sure investinel 330, 1!

Garden of Shadows public railroads is going to be the thing of the
future," Christopher would say.

"I think it's time to took to the heavens, sir.  I think aviation will
be the transportation of the future."

"You mean to tell me that the common man will go flying around this
great land of ours.  I find that hard to believe, young man."

"It's already happening, sir.  Why, took at how many companies are
opening public stock options."  And Christopher would open The Wall
Street Journal and I would see their blond heads bow over the paper as
they read over the stocks.... "Why, son, I believe you might be right,"
ffsSoySm wouldfinauy agree.

"You have quite'a buspless head on you.  Are you sure you want to waste
it on m<edicuie?"

"Sir," Christopher wpuM say, "I want to help people, like my stepfather
did."

Even John Amos was impressed with the boy^s understanding of the
Scriptures far into the night they would go over passages, and discuss
various interpretations.

Christopher always saw the Lord as forgiving, while John insisted that
He was vengeful as well.

But it was Corinne who was most mesmerized by this beautiful young man.
She sought every opportunity to be with him.  Only when I walked into
the room and saw them sitting together on the sofa, whispering and
laughing, did Corinne remember to pull away, drop Christopher's hand,
and heed my warning to treat him as she would treat an uncle.  But it
warmed me to see these two radiant children, children who brought such
Joy into gloomy Fbxworth Hall, and I would fix them a pot of tea and
bake them cookies, always remembering to put raisins h , I thought that
Christopher had inter323

Garden of Shadows minable patience when it came to Corinne's con;

questions about his past, even when she asked things that might bring
back painful memories.

seemed incapable of losing his temper.  He was it forgiveness and
understanding, warmth and symps At one dinner Cbrinne asked Christopher
a Alicia.  Malcolm was at his usual seat at the head o table, and I was
at mine at the other end.  Corinne sat directly across from
Christopher, who sat in' had been Mat's seat.  She had almost been lat
dinner, taking so long deciding What to wear and to fix her hair.

It was one of our warmest evenings of the sums but Malcolm still wore
his jacket and tie, as Christopher.  Malcolm would never admit to any
comfort.  He maintained a cool, relaxed appears almost willing his body
to behave.  Although Chr pher was uncomfprtable, he did not say a word.
T was absolutely no breeze outside, so nothing p?

through our opened windows.  All our ventilation c from the ceiling
fans.

Corinne began by teasing Malcolm about his tij knotted tie.  - .... ;
;

"Why don't the two of you loosen, your ties and off your jackets,^ she
said.  "I think it would romantic."  She rolled her eyes and sighed.  I
had Malcolm that she was spending too much time rca the fashion
magazines and following the lives of movie stats.  More and masse she
behaved a FbxwQrth Hall were a Hollywood set.  ; s "We a<e; not
performing-on some stage," Mate retorted, recafring my complaints.  I
nodded iff piwal.

"Thisisoiar diaaer, I; suggest you' concern-!

334 ] Garden of Shadows self with other matters than how the men in
this house dress, Corinne."

"Daddy can be so stuffy," she said, smiling at Christopher, undaunted.
He did not smile back, knowing well how Malcolm would have reacted.  I
knew' she was showing off for Christopher: Although there was a look of
pleasure in his eyes, he maintained his decorum.

"Was it stuffy for you at dinner at your house, Chris?"."  - ..... -
.... -..- - ..

I raised my eyebrows.  Chris?  She caught my look of reprimand.  You
don't shorten the Christian names of people older than yourself, I had
told her.  ' "My father wanted u& to dress properly for dinner," he
said.

"I wouldn't say he wasstaffy,nor would I say your father is either,"
Christopher replied' diploniattcally.

Malcolm did not show his reaction, but I knew he was pleased.  ;

"What about your mother?  I know so little about her.  She left with
you shortly after I was born," Corinne asked.  Whenever Alicia's
name-was mentioned, both Malcolm and I involuntarily stiffened.  Oh, I
worried so that somehow the truth would come out, that I would lose
forever' the love and affection of these two young people, who would
never forgive us for the lie we had forced Corinne to live in.  But it
was for the best, I consoled myself, and there was no way they would
ever guess; for indeed, who could ever guess such a deception?  .

"I dont think we should be talking about Christopher's mother over
dinner," I said quickly; "It can't be Yery pleasant for' him,
consideringthetragedy," I added.  - - .  ^ ..- .  : .  Corinne
blushed.

"Oh, I'm sony'I didn't--"

SZS

Garden of Shadows "It's all right.  But Olivia is right," Christopher
si He quickly asked Malcolm a question about one of mills and the
subject was dropped, but the tens lingered in the air between Corinne
and myself for remainder of our meal.  She hated how I had made look
cruel to Christopher, but it was the quickest w) could think of to end
the topic.  I was just as reluct an discuss Alicia in front of Corinne
as was Maico Later I overheard Christopher assure her that she 1 not
offended him.  They were walking in the halh toward the east patio. She
did not know that I was el enough to hear their conversation.

"My mother can be very cold at times," she told h "She is so
exasperating," she added, fluttering eyelashes.  Christopher laughed.

"You must not judge your mother so harsi Corinne," he told her.

"What she said, she said on!^ protect me.  She was concerned for my
feelings," added in a tone of voice that suggested a tea ct student
relationship, I thought he was doing welt in effort to keep Corinne in
her place, and I was prouc him for it.

The next morning Christopher came to me on t same east patio.  I was
enjoying the humid, overcast i because there was a-comfortable breeze.
As he wall toward me, I saw a look of seriousness furrow his br< though
he smiled and greeted me warmly.

"Gt morning, Olivia, may I sit down?"  I put down needlepoint as he,
sat beside me.  I knew he 1 something on-his mind, and for a moment I
froze fear, so afraid he would ask me endless questions ah Alicia and
why she had left here.  I hated lying Christopher, it seemed so unfair;
yet what wouN think of me, of Malcolm,of Alida, even of himself if he
knew the truth?

"You look like you have something on your mind, Christopher," I said
warily.

"What is it?"

"Olivia," Christopher began, a look of sweetness crossing his face.

"I want you to know how grateful I am for what you and Malcolm are
doing for me.  It's so wonderful here.  I feel as if I've found a
second home and so quickly after I lost my mother.  And thank you for
understanding that it's difficult for me to talk about her.  Last night
at dinner, I felt you understood me so well, and then.  when I was
thinking about it later, 1 realized why.  For you've suffered a loss,
perhaps even greater than mine.  I know children expect their parents
to die; but I can't imagine how horrible it is to lose both your sons."
He reached over and took my hand, "I have hesitated speaking about Mal
and Joel because I know how painful it is for you.  But I feel that we
can share that pain.  Oh, I remember Mal, so serious and so adult.  I
remember when I was here with them, and they treated me like a brother.
And really, when my mom was away all those months, you were a mother
to me, and I loved you so.  I never forgot that.  And now I have lost
my mother and you have lost your sons.  But we can have each other now,
can't we?  I mean, isn't it as if I have found a mother and you have
found another son?  Can we be like that, Olivia?  I always wanted
brothers and sisters and used to complain to Mom about that.  But
whenever I asked for one, she'd look so upset, and start twisting her
fingers.  I don't know why, she'd never explain to me.  But I feel as
if I've truly found a second family.  And I adore Corinne, she sure is
going to be a beautiful woman?  You've raised her so Garden of Shadows
well she's so sweet and charming, and really fun to be with.  You know,
I really don't mind at all the way she seeks me out.  It's very
flattering.  And nothing would honor me more than to be a real brother
to Corinne, and if you'll let me, to be a son to you."

"Thank you, Christopher," I said.  I felt the warmth and respect in his
eyes.  Oh, this young man touched me more than I could ever tell him.
How strange it was | strange and odd that I'd lost my own two children
bu had been given Alicia's.  And I vowed I would take ca of them, and
protect them.  Even though they we almost adults, we truly were a
family, the sort of fan I'd dreamed of beautiful, loving children with
world at their feet.

"There is nothing I'd like me Christopher, than for you to consider
yourself my soU I'm honored, realty I am."

Christopher smiled, his handsome face filled love and interest.

"I wish my mother had never left Foxworth Hatt| wish I had thousands
more memories of Mal and Joel wish that I had had the opportunity to
know them as\softline all grew up, but I realize all that is in the
past and th is no point to resurrect it.  My mother told me so lit
about our life here.  But we can make new memoi now, can't we,
Olivia?"

Christopher looked down and then up at me v those blue Poxworth eyes,
his wanner, deeper, rict "I'm going to make you so proud of me,
Olivia."

His sweetness, his love, was so moving, it broil tears to my eyes.  I
had known so little love in my;!

but I believed Christopher really did love me, k as if I were his
mother.  A lump was lodged throat, and I could tell Christopher knew
how sir he had moved me.  I smiled and patted his soft I "Christopher,"
I began, "if you achieve what you have set out to achieve, you will
bring me the kind of pride and happiness only a mother can have for a
son.  I feel honored that you have these feelings now."  I looked away
quickly because my heart was beating fast and I felt my tears about to
flow.

I couldn't help but think of Mal and Joel and the mother-son talks we
used to have.  All that had been taken away from me, and now, suddenly,
some of it was returned.  As if to comfort me, the warm breeze caressed
my face and the long, billowy cloud that had covered the sun moved on.
There was warmth all about me, but most important, there was warmth in
my heart.

"I will do my best," Christopher said.  He leaned forward to kiss me on
the cheek.  The warmth of his lips on my cheek remained after he got
up.  I swallowed my urge to cry and turned back to him only when he
started away.  I watched him go to the house and then I looked up and
saw John Amos standing by a second story window, looking down at us. He
had his hands behind his back and his body seemed to cast a deep, heavy
shadow.  ' I began to notice how John Amos kept watching Christopher. 
He would appear out of nowhere, hovering in adoorway, emerging from a
shadow.  He seemed to be observing him, looking for something in
Christopher.  With his eyes like inquisitive, probing scalpels, he
sought to slice out a hint, a sign, a due.  Whenever Malcolm and
Christopher did have a conversation and John Amos was nearby, he
scrutinized Christopher like a spy sent from some distant land filled
with suspicion.

R)r a while he said nothing about him, and then one day about a week
after my conversation with Christopher on the patio, he came to the
door of the froi salon while I was reading.

"I must speak to you about Christopher," he said.

nodded and indicated he should come in.  He did not s down, so I knew
that his thoughts troubled him.  H stood for a long moment with his
hands behind his bac and then turned to me.

"There is danger in paradise, he began.

"What troubles you, John?"  I asked, impatient wit him.  I wasn't happy
that he had come to me critical ( Christopher.

"What has he done?"  I demanded."  9 "It's nothing that he has done
specifically, but I am| cautious man and I want you to be cautious too.
I we that everyone has grown so attached to him so quid Even Malcolm
appears to have lost his cautious e and careful ways.  Only you,
Olivia, have the insight see what I am suggesting," he said, and
brought lower lip over his upper, his eyes small.  He nodded head
slowly, as though confirming his own staternei I considered what he had
said.

"But there is nothing that you have observed .

"I have seen him with Corinne.  They spend a ) deal of time together
walking through the gardt going on the swings, talking, laughing," he
said a those were sins.  i "But they are innocent.  She follows him
about 3 an obedient puppy dog.  You have observed no indiaf tions, have
you?"  I asked quickly.

"No, and yet... as I said, I worry.  CorinnU spending a great deal more
time and placing a deal more attention on her appearance.  She sits I
her vanity mirror and brushes her hair a hundred before she will emerge
from her room," he said < ly.  I sat back.

Garden of Shadows "You watch her brush her hair?  I don't understand,"
I said.  He suddenly looked very flustered.  His face reddened and his
mouth opened and closed without a word.

"Why do you watch her so Closely?"  I asked.

"How do you watch her so closely?"

"Sometimes she leaves her door open a little and I... I do what I can
to ... to keep us aware of whatever troubles may be brewing, Olivia,"
he said quickly.

"You know that is all I want to do."

I considered what he had said.

"Was there anything else you witnessed that you think I should know?" I
asked, realizing that John had been doing more spying than I could
imagine.

"Yes.  I must confess I followed them about yesterday because I sensed
something."  ' "What?"  I demanded.  I was becoming more and more
angered at John Amos's suspicions about these beautiful, innocent young
people.  Was he trying to destroy the peace and happiness that we had
at last built at Fbxworth Hall?

"What did you sense, John Amos?"

"I followed them to the lake.  They were giggling and splashing each
other in the water.  I stood watching them play, and was greatly
shocked when they emerged from the water.  They were swimming in their
underwear!  I Olivia, it was obscene?  You could see everything!

It was lewd!"

I must say, I was quite shocked to hear this.  I had raised Corinne to
be a modest young woman, and I did not approve of her doing this.  But,
I excused them-after all, they were young, it was hot, humid summer
weather.  I'm sure their natural exuberance just got of the best of
them.

"John Amos," I said sternly.

"I don't like your suspicious mind.  After all, they are members off
the same family, and in such situations, people oft el dA' Ptne"'proper
modesty.  I know both you and Lwer ffSdy children, but I have heard
that siblings and cousin orften feel very comfortable being so open and
uns cashed with one another.  Let's not make a mount ai syMt.  of a
molehill."

The first summer with Christopher drew to an en (Christopher went off
to Yale.  Corinne, now in the teni ^rade, was enrolled in the best
girls' school in Ne gSngland.  I wanted her to be exposed to the o
traditions of the eastern seaboard.  I wanted her to leai About
something other than Southern balls and He tricky Derbies.  I wanted
her to study Latin, to stu< ancient Greece, to become more than those
pretl ^mpty-headed mistresses who ran the estates aroui "Virginia. And,
a happy coincidence, her school was Iklassachusetts, only an hour or so
away from N< flaven.  I was really comforted to know that a memi of the
family was nearby, should Corinne need ai thing.

I was sorry to see them go.  They left Foxworth fl on the same
day--they were taking the train together--and Christopher had offered
to see t Corinne was settled in her new school before he w on to Yale.
It was so sweet to see how quickly t really had become to each other
the brother and sb they truly were.  Only they didn't know.

The big house felt empty without them, and rather dull routine quickly
took over again; Male always at work, John Amos managing the servants
reading Bible lessons with me.  But I was com forte my children.  Truly
I did think of them as mine.

Just as he had promised, Christopher wrote to every week.  He wrote
long, interesting tetters, dea Garden of Shadows ing everything he was
doing and how much he already missed Poxworth Hall and the happy days
he had spent during the last half of the summer.  And Corinne wrote
sweet notes, describing her new school and her new friends.  She did
complain that there were no boys around, and I had to worry some, that
she would become boy crazy and get herself into some sort of trouble,
but I consoled myself that I had raised her well and properly.  I had
to trust the fruit of my own child-rearing.  I did believe my tutelage
could overcome whatever tendencies she had inherited from her mother.

We all looked forward to the holidays, when Christopher and Corinne
would return.  Thanksgiving was too short a holiday for them to come
all the way to Virginia, but one of Christopher's professors invited
both Corinne and Christopher to his home for dinner.  I was consoled
that at least they were together.  We all waited eagerly for Christmas.
And the two of them arrived together, looking flushed and happy, as
bright and expectant as two small children waiting for Santa's arrival.
Our Christmas party that year was spectacular.

Our Christmas tree was forty feet high and reached all the way to the
top of the rotunda.  Christopher and Corinne decorated it, spending
almost two entire days with Christopher up on the ladder and Corinne
handing him the bright, gay decorations.  They even strung popcorn and
cranberries yards and yards of lively red and white garlands to drape
around the tree like dancers dancing around the maypole.  By the night
of the party, Corinne was beside herself with excitement Malcolm had
bought her an extravagant red velvet gown, and she wore her blond hair
piled on her head with ringlets cascading down.  I had assented to aer
wearing some light makeup mascara and lipstick.  S was breathtaking, I
have to admit it.  She looked like princess, a movie star, a queen.

Malcolm, Christopher, John Amos, and I, as well the servants, all
turned as she drifted down the sta way.  Oh, we all felt so much pride;
Malcolm w beaming fit to burst and I heard Christopher let out sigh
almost of wonder as Corinne reached us, gal said, "Happy Christmas,
Daddy," and threw her an about Malcolm, and then, as she was bugging
him, ga Christopher a sly wink.  Only John Amos looked'1 with a tight
expression.  And suddenly it dawned on H as I watched him watching her.
Why, John Amos w jealous of Christopher!  That was the spring of 4
suspicions.  I took his arms and led him into the gra ballroom.

"Come, John Amos, let's make certainy the preparations are perfect. Our
guests win b^J arriving any moment now."  ^ Our party was a grand
success.  Corinne, quiteil| sophisticated young lady and well-schooled
4 quette, played the hostess more than I did.  I saw 1| proud of her
Malcolm was, how he sat back or stoo^J the side and watched her move
about the great the| greeting people, laughing with this one or that,
sajj the right things, charming older people as weH| younger.  I saw
the smiles on their faces andc^ enchantment in their eyes when she
greeted them.  || I didn't even mind so much that they had 0||
responded to me in such a way.  I was not that typ)| woman.  But my
Corinne was, and reflected gloryaj certainly more sweet than no glory
at all..  t|| She had Christopher on her arm, introducing bq her
long-lost uncle who was on his way to beconrif famous physician and
telling them how proud o|j she was.  She was positively radiant as they
flitted from this person to that, like a sparkling wind bringing
Christmas joy to everything it touched.

Christopher was, as always, perfectly charming, complimenting the
women, making them feel pretty and attractive.  He had a kind word for
everyone, and it always sounded sincere, never phony.  He sought and
found in each person he met their best quality, and then brought it to
the fore.  Everywhere I turned guests were talking about him and
Corinne, how impressed they were with bothofthem.

I did overhear Mrs.  Bromley tell a group of women that it was
difficult for her to believe anyone as energetic and charming as
Corinne could be a daughter of mine.

But this time I felt no need to cut in and answer her back as I had
done at previous gatherings.  I knew she spoke out of jealousy, and I
felt proud.  There wasn'ta finer, more handsome young man or woman in
the community.  I had succeeded at last in my role as Malcolm's wife. /
We bad survived our disasters and tragedies, and like the great house,
we now stood at the pinnacle of the community.  We.were people to be
admired and envied.

As the band struck up the dance music, Christopher led Corinne out onto
the dance floor.  It was a waltz, and their dance was breathtaking. 
Christopher spun Corinne around the floor as if they were born dancing
together.  Everyone turned to watch, no one else wanted to dance,
happier to watch this gorgeous couple glide across the floor like happy
snowflakes in a friendly wind.  Then Malcolm, tall and dignified, came
and cut in- Corinne smiled at Christopher as he took his place in the
circle about the dance floor to the applauseofthe

33S

Garden of Shadows guests, and Malcolm danced on with Corinne.  I
somehow he had broken the spell, both of th appeared stiff and slightly
uncomfortable; it was as Malcolm were trying to compete with
Christopher a prove he was just as accomplished a dancer--but wasn't.
At that moment I really realized how < Malcolm had become.  His
youthful vigor was g0i dancing with Corinne, he looked like a foolish
old mi Christopher came up to me, smiling.

"Dare I cut;

Olivia?  Malcolm looks like he's tiring out."

I smiled and patted his hand.

"You go right ahef Christopher," I encouraged him.  i Christopher
walked out onto the floor, and as tapped Malcolm's shoulder, and
Corinne floated it his arms, the guests broke into another round
applause.

It was then I saw John Amos looking at me, looki at me as though he
were some angry God trying wreak vengeance on my happiness so lately
found.  1 looked back at Christopher and Corinne dancing a raised an
eyebrow in alarm and suspicion.

"There a none so blind as those who refuse to see," he intone Why did
he have to make beauty seem so sordid?  W did he resent Christopher so?
Did he feel that since was a member of the family be should have the
ben el Christopher had gotten rather than being merely butler?  I
pushed the thought away.  This was the b< Christmas party we had ever
given, and I was having wonderful time glorying in my children.  I
wasn't got to let John Amos's suspicions ruin my happiness.

During tussecond year at Yale, Christopher did mo than simply establish
himself as a promising studei His professors found his papers to be
extraordinary, i Garden of Shadows a sophomore, he was already doing
senior work  Credit limitations were waived for him; and Malcolm and I
received his excited letter announcing that he would be graduating in
three years instead of four.  Medical school was just around the
corner.

I was delighted to learn that he and Corinne kept in contact with each
other.  Christopher bad-even taken a ride or two to her boarding
school: to pay her avis it

Corinne must have been so proud to show off her handsome step uncle to
her girlfriends.  I envisioned her sitting on the bed in her dormitory
room, the other giris gathered about her to listen to; her descriptions
of Christopher and the Christmas parties and Fbxworth Hall, I was sure
she made them all envious, promising to introduce this one or that one
to Christopher.  When he arrived, she probably displayed him like a
precious jewel...;. , .  - ..,-' ,:;.

John Amos, however, never let up his suspicions and jealousy of
Christopher.

"It's unnatural, Olivia; even siblings aren't that close at their
age."

"Really, John," Malcolm would say, "can't you let Corinne alone."  He
remained enamored of her.

By the time she was seventeen, Corinne was a stunningly beautiful
woman.  Her golden hair never had more of a sheen or looked assort. Her
eyes were brighter and a deeper blue, the cerulean blue of
Christopher's eyes.  She had Alkaa's slim, very feminine figure, with a
graceful neck, small round shoulders, a firm, full bosom, a narrow
waist, and small hips.  Her legs were long, and she moved with a
confident grace that would make angels envious.

Now twenty-one years old, Christopher, too, had filled out.  His
shoulders became wider and more muscular from his athletic activities
at Yale.  He was the Garden of Shadows champion rower on his scull
team.  He was at least inch taller than when he had first arrived at
Fbxwoi Hall, and I thought his maturity made him even me handsome.
There was a great deal of Garland in h now.  I heard him in his laugh
and saw him in his hap strut.

It wa^ heartwarming to watch them rush about t great house, going from
one activity to the next.  0 afternoon they were off to sail on the
little lal another afternoon they were going out to hunt for w flowers
or spy on bees so Olsen could steal the hora At dinner they chattered
incessantly about their lives school.

Malcolm looked from one to the other, doting, course, on Corinne.
Something was happening to t granite in his face.  It was beginning to
be chipped aw until he no longer looked as though he carried a sto bust
of a head on his shoulders.  Occasionally, even would burst out in
laughter at the table when Corin would describe some silly thing she
had done or sail Christopher was full of stories about her, too, lovi
to repeat things she'd said or done when he visited t at school.  They
were becoming so close that it fina began to concern me.  One
afternoon, when the two them came back from sailing, I realized what w
bothering me about their relationship.

Corinne's arm was laced through Christopher's, h hair bouncing gently
on her shoulders as the two them crossed the lawn toward the patio,
where I s looking off at the Blue Ridge Mountains.

They looked so much like brother and sister now tl I was almost sure
they sensed it.  For a few moment was plunged back into the memory of
my own soi and I imagined that if Mal or Joel were alive ai walking
with Corinne, either of them would look as wonderful.  Such was the
power of her beauty that any man standing in the reach of that beauty
would be enhanced by it himself, the same way a woman's hands could be
enhanced by jewels and her wrist and neck by bracelets and necklaces.

I heard their laughter first.  Their voices, still a bit far off, were
indistinct.  When they drew close enough to see me, they stopped and
looked at each other as though they bad been caught doing something
illicit.  I felt myself tighten.  A moment later they were walking
toward me, moving faster and not standing so close to each other, even
though Corinne still had her arm in his.

"Isn't this a magnificent day, Olivia?"  Christopher said.

"There was just enough breeze to move our little sailboat," he added.

"I wish you would permit me to take you for a boat ride on a day like
this."

Corinne looked at me with a teasing expression; she couldn't envision
me in a sailboat.

"I have been on a sailboat many times," I said.

"When I lived in New London, sailing was as common as walking."

"Really?"  Christopher said.

"I have been down to New London and it is a rather beautiful harbor."

"Yes," Corinne said.

"It is."

"You have been to New London?"  I asked her quickly.  She looked at
Christopher furtively and then nodded.

"I picked her up at school and took her for a ride one Saturday," he
confessed.

"We knew it was your birth place and we wanted to see it."

"It's such a lovely place," Corinne said.

Then Corinne and Christopher looked into each Garden of Shadows
other's eyes in a way that excluded everything el the world; And I felt
a sharp pang of terror gri heart.  It was as if the two of them were
living un veil, a veil that let nothing and no one else into secret
world.

The next year sped by, and quickly enough ii summer again.  This time
Malcolm and I travel New England, first to attend Corinne's graduation
high school, then to attend Christopher's gradu from Yale.  Christopher
was the valedictorian c class.  People nearly wept at his moving
address spoke eloquently about the idea that just where think you've
lost something--a hope, a drear someone you love--you can stick to your
dream;

make them come true again.  I knew in my heart h talking about our
family, with its bitter tragedies loss of Alicia for him, and then his
finding a hoi Foxworth Hall.  When he stepped down from podium, even
Malcolm was moved, and we n toward him, our arms outstretched.  Corinne
ran him first and they embraced for a long while.  Ma and I, growing a
little impatient, waited for our ti hug him.  But when he finally took
us in his ;

sweeping us both into his embrace, I cried tears burned from happiness.
Then all of us together toi his cap and as a family we threw it into
the air.  11 was almost black with graduation caps spinning h and
higher.  A cheer of thousands of young male filled the air.

We drove home in the graduation car Malcoln given Corinne.  It was a
cream-colored con ve Cadillac.  We took turns, sometimes Malcolm di
Garden of Shadows and me riding beside him in the front seat while
Christopher and Corinne rode in back.  Then Christopher would take a
turn at the wheel, then Corinne.  TPor children who'd just proudly
graduated, both Christopher and Corinne were oddly subdued on the long
two-day drive back to Virginia.  We stopped for the night in Atlantic
City, New Jersey, and Malcolm wanted to take us all out for a night on
the town;

"Have I got some places to show you kids," Malcolm declared.

"There's a ballroom here that has gold embedded in its files.  Why, it
even puts Foxworth Hall to shame!"

"Oh, Daddy, that's so sweet of you," Corinne sighed.

"But I'm so exhausted.  All this excitement with my graduation and
Chris's has left me feeling like I could sleep for a year."

"Boy, I know what you mean," Christopher agreed;

"That speech yesterday really took it out of me."

"Well, if you kids don't want to go out and celebrate, I guess we'll
just have a quiet evening at the hotel."

"Oh, no, no.  Daddy," Corinne insisted.

"You ought to take Mother out.  Why don't you pretend you're graduates
and we'll stay home and wait up to make sure you get home at a decent
hour.  And boy, are you going to be in trouble if you're late," Corinne
teased.

I understood their exhaustion and insisted that Malcolm take me on his
tour.  After all, didn't I deserve some celebration for the great job
I'd done raising his child and his father's child?  We left Christopher
and Corinne in their respective rooms, dressed in our Sunday best, and
went to the restaurant overlooking the ocean.  It was filled with
newlyweds and youngsters headed for senior proms.  We felt rather
anconrfortabte Garden of Shadows and out of place surrounded by so
many young people.

We barely touched the expensive champagne that Malcolm had insisted we
order.

"Let's have a toast, Olivia," he said, trying to add cheer to our
rather silent meal.

"Here's to our wonderful daughter, coming home again, to be with us
forever."  .."  .  ', .. . _..;.

I gave him a stem look.  Did he really think Corinne would never leave
hipa?  He had to let her have her own life, meet some nice young man
and many and raise family of her own.  That's what every girl wanted,
and, didn't want Malcolm to continue to make Corinne fee guilty about
her quite normal dreams and desires.  | "Let's toast to Corinne finding
everything she want from life and love," I corrected him.  ^

We returned to Foxworth Hall late the next nighty let the children
sleep as late as they wanted intj) morning; after all, come fall, both
of them would hff^ to begin taking up adult responsibilities.
Christopfa| was still waiting to hear where he would be accept into
medical school.  He was on the waiting list | several Ivy League
schools, and had already be| accepted to his stepfather's alma mater in
Georg6| Corinne had wanted to go to Bryn Mawr, but I hi| insisted that
she apply to Vassar and Connectic| College for Women in my own hometown
ofN|| London.  She had been accepted at both but had not ^| decided
which she most favored, 'll In the morning, after checking in with John
Aa|j and the cook, I went to my room and sat down at'lj desk to go
through the mail.  There was a large maa| envelope addressed to
Christopher Poxworth, h.y the return address was Harvard Medical
School!  $i Garden of Shadows so excited to see that, and I knew I
shouldn't open it, but I just had to know.  I told myself I wanted to
be able to help Christopher to cope with whatever-news it contained,
good or bad, but in my heart I knew the news would be good.  How could
any intelligent college turn Christopher down?  My fingers trembled as
I tore open the envelope.

Dear Mr, Ibxworth, ^ ; ;;^ ,. I It is wNh great pleasure that }inform
yod of' year acceptance to Harvard Medical School.  As D SBl , rairt1
happy--'- .1 - .  "I;- .1 '*'"" -';'- i':^" '- '^^1^ 1 ; :"";

I couldn't read any farther.  Tears of happiness fiffed my eyes and the
tetter blurred before me.  Clutching it to my breast, I bolted up the
stairs like a young woman and pounded on Christopher's door.  He wasn't
there.  I tried Corinne's room next, thinking that she might know where
he was.  But she wasn't in her room either.

Suddenly I heard a muffled noise.  I couldn't imagine where it was
coming from.  I Moved toward the sound.

For a moment my heart beat so loudly, I could hear nothing else.  The
noise grew louder.  It sounded like laughing, but very strange
laughing, like laughter being muffled in a pillow.  A light was on at
the far end of the corridor and I began to o-eep toward it.

"Corinne," I heard a voice whisper, "what would I have done if I never
found you?  How would I have lived?  You are my life.  You are the sole
reason for my existence.  You are--" "Shhh," Corinne said, "someone
might hear."

"I don't care if they hear.  I love you.  I want the world to know
it."

The light was pouring forth from under the double Garden of Shadows
doors to the Swan Room.  Clutching Christopt acceptance letter from
Harvard, I nudged the < open an inch or two.  Sprawled on the swan bed,
undressed, limbs entwined, clutching and clawing sionately at each
other, were Corinne and Christop Her head was thrown back, her lips,
blood-red, ii slightly parted.  Christopher was kissing her exp<
breasts!

Without thinking, I almost slammed that door s My mind was dizzy with
rage and terror.  My heart I in my chest like a wild bird before a fox.
Christoi and Corinne!  They were lovers!  Lovers!  My God, were brother
and sister!  Oh, God, what had I dc What had we all done?  I sunk to
the floor, my I spinning, feeling as if all the life in me were b
turned to poison.  My mind searched frantically what to do.  Should I
confront them?  Should I tell tl the truth?  Would God strike them dead
for what i had done?

Just then I felt a dark shadow fall over me.  Hoc up and there stood
John Amos, looking down on with a cold dismay.

"Olivia, what are you doing stooped on the floor a beggar?  What's
happening here?"  And then beady eyes turned to the door to the Swan
Root could hear a rustling inside.  Quickly John A grasped the door and
swung it open, and there, yea ted in all their naked glory, were
Christopher Corinne on the swan bed.  He was lying on top of I They
were entwined in the union that should exist < in marriage.

John Amos seemed to embody all the wrath of C and as he stood there
staring at them, he see me grow taller, darker.  He seemed an avenging
angel;

Garden of Shadows down from heaven.

"Sinners!  Fomicators!"  he thundered.

"How dare you disgrace this house.  You will bring the wrath of God
down on you.  This is incest, lustful unholy incest.  May God damn your
souls to everlasting hell!"

I tried to stand up, to pull John Amos away from the doorway and dose
the door on their shame, but he ruthlessly pushed me away.

"You stupid woman," he sneered, "I told you, I told you what was going
on right under your nose, but you wouldn't listen.

"You have harbored the devil in your house, woman, do you hear me?  You
invited him in, and fed him, and cosseted him, and now he has come to
claim your life."

The Wages of Sin

I WAS BEING PULLED DOWN INTO A WHIRLING MASS

confusion and terror.  I felt betrayed and so angry, hi and bruised.
And yet, there was so much love--oh, 1 it was a sinful, ungodly love.
Who had caused this?  V it my fault?  Or was it Malcolm and his lustful
lines coming to its final fruition?  One moment I would overcome with
rage, the next I would be beside mys with pity for them.  I knew I had
to tell Malcolm.  It to all my strength to rise to my feet and tell
John Amos go.  Then, slowly, clinging to the doorway for support
entered the Swan Room and in a voice so strange a faint, I barely
recognized it as my own, I told Chris pher and Corinne to be in
Malcolm's library in fift< minutes.  Corinne was hiding her nakedness
behi Christopher, who had draped himself in a sheet.  B( of their eyes
were already reddened by tears.  Thej quietly shut the door behind me
and, reeling slight went to find Malcolm.  ;

"I want you to brace yourself," I said, opening t door of his library,
"something .. . something terr ii has happened."  3 346 a Garden of
Shadows "Tie children?  Oh, God, not again!"  Malcolm said, bolting
upright.

"Your father's son has seduced our daughter?"  I informed him.

Words cannot describe the torment that twisted Malcolm's face.  As I
watched him, I felt I was seeing a mirror of my own feelings, yet, as
the rage and bitterness and hatred and love for his daughter all fought
for dominance, one emotion showed itself stronger, and banished all the
others.  Rage.  Rage as I had never seen before.

"Now, Malcolm," I warned, Us lack of cbntror helping me find my own.

"We must remain calm.  We must figure out what is best for us to do.
There is too much at stake here, you know it and I know it.  They are
coming here, to the library, in a moment.  Please, Malcolm, please find
some strength within you so we can put a stop to this dreadful
abomination."

Just then we both heard the door creak open and Christopher, his arm
protectively around Corinne, entered the library.  They had had only a
few minutes to throw on their clothes, and some of their buttons were
unfastened.  Christopher was wearing socks without shoes.  Behind them
I saw John Amos looming at the top of the stairs, looking down at us
with the face of doom.  He seemed to grow larger with every passing
silent moment, for he had known, he had always known; and I had refused
to believe.  I heard his prophetic words in my memory.

"There are none so blind as those who refuse to see."

And I knew the wrath of God had fallen hard and completely on the House
of Foxworth.  Every shadow, the ghost of every descendant, moaned in
the wings.

Garden of Shadows All that was left was to hear the words.  Male
stepped forward and slammed the doors behind th "Daddy," Corinne began,
grasping hold of Chris pher's hand as they moved toward Malcolm. ""Wear
love.  We've been in love for a long time.  We are gc to be married." 
She looked at Christopher to gather courage.  He smiled that sweet,
compassion smile that had so charmed everyone at Foxworth I- these past
three years.

"Christopher and I have tx planning it almost from the day we first
met, wail until I reached eighteen.  We were thinking of elopi we
didn't know if you would approve.  But we'd lov< have a church wedding,
to bless the sanctity of i love."

Bvery word Corinne spoke drove the knife dee and deeper into my heart.
She had said everythin feared most.  Malcolm looked as though he had he
nothing.  He Stared at Corinne in a strange way; It as if he didn't see
her, but instead saw Alida, perhaps, even his own mother.  Then his
face took the worst contortion I had ever seen.  The rage t built in
him swelled up his face, inflamed his chee and hoisted his shoulders
until he looked gigantic.

I walked forward quickly to join him.

"We hoped you would be happy for us," Corii said, her voice- beginning
th quiver, and give us y< blessing.  Of course, if you want to make us
a wedding and invite hundreds of guests and then have big party here in
Foxworth Hall, we would be thrill We want you to be as happy as we
are," she addec "Happy?"  Malcolm said, pronouncing the word a it were
as the strangest one he'd ever heard.

"Happ he repeated, and then he followed it with a holl< devilish laugh.
Suddenly, he stepped forward, his ri

34S

arm extended stiffly, forefinger out, pointing accusingly

"Happy?  You two have committed a most heinous sin.  How can anyone be
happy?  You know he is your uncle and he knows you are his niece.  What
you haw done is incestuous.  I will never give it my blessing and
neither will God.  You are making, a mockery of the idea of marriage,"
he thundered, zigzagging with his finger in the air before him as
though he were annulling their love then and there.

"It is not incestuous," Corinne said softly, "And our love is too pure
and good for it to be sinful.  These are not the laws of God, but the
laws of man you quote.  In many societies, marriage of cousins and
close relatives is even expected.  Why " "Incestuous!"  Malcolm
screamed, his arm still e^ tended.  His entire body shook with the
effort and the blood rushed to his face.

Sinful/ Ungodly  Unholy!"

he shouted, pumping the air with his arm after each accusation.

"You boys betrayed me, betrayed me f" "Please listen, Malcolm,"
Christopher; began, "Corinne and I have felt this way about each other
from the first day I set foot in Rixworth Hall.  Surely, it was
something meant to be."  :

"Judas!"  Malcolm retorted, turning on him.

"I gave you life; I gave you hope and opportunity.  I spent money on
you, placed my trust and faith in you.  I opened my home to you and you
have seduced; my daughter,".- .-; .  - .  : ..--" :;; : .  :.;..  ;-.
::

"He didn't seduce me," Corione said, quickly coming to
Christopher'sdefense.  She pulled him even closer to her.

"What has happened between vs'i wanted as much as he did," she said.

"In fact, it was I who followed him about; it was I who pursued him and
Garden of Shadows woman.  I filled his every possible free moment with
presence, with my chatter, with my laughter and love.  He was always
the gentleman, always tall about what you and my mother wanted.  I was
at that you might not understand at first, so I waited u I was
eighteen.  I haven't betrayed you.  I still love and want to live here
with Christopher.  We with b our children here and--" "Children?"
Malcolm repeated as if stung by concept.  A cold chill ran up my
spine.

"If you will just listen," Corinne said.

"There is nothing to listen to," Malcolm said.  "' talk of having
children.  Your children will be born horns, with humped backs, forked
tails, hoofed f they will be deformed creatures," he pronounced, eyes
hateful.  Both Corinne and Christopher retrea from his accusing words.
Corinne took on a tool tenor and clung harder to Christopher's arm.

"No," Corinne said, shaking her head.

"That's true; that won't happen."

"Begiriler," Malcolm said.

"Delilah, deceitful, I tul creature, cunningly beautiful, evil thing,"
he con ued, driving her back farther and farther with ev
pronouncement.

"I want you both out of my house, of my life, and out of my memory," he
said.  "06 fr this house," he said, pointing to the door, "and n( set
foot in it again from this day forth.  You are dea< me, as dead as ..."
Malcolm looked at me, and;

eyes restrained him from saying anything more.  ' ^"You can't mean
this," Corinne cried, the t( streaming down her cheeks, her chin
quivering.  Cfc top her looked to me for rescue, but I looked awa felt
almost as betrayed as Malcolm did.  I had loved 1 as my own; anA now he
had betrayed me.  Those'K*| years, when I believed in his devotion and
love for me, it wasn't for me at all, but for corinne.  He was as
trapped by beauty as Malcolm was.  Oh, it was true, all men were alike.
I returned his look with a stare so cold, I hoped it froze his heart.
Then and there I wanted to destroy them with the truth, but the new
coldness and clarity I felt told me that I would destroy only myself.

"I mean every word," Malcolm finally responded, his voice dry, cold,
and as brittle and sharp as ice.

"Go' from this; house and know that you are disinherited.

Neither you nor your Judas shall receive one penny from me.  I curse
you; I curse: you both andcoodemn you to a lifcofsinandhotEor," ; : :;
iA^ "We shall not becursed,"<3iiristophCT stood tall as he defied
Malcolm.

"We shall go; from your house but we shall not carry away your curse.
We will leave your curses at the door."  As he spoke, he looked more
like Malcolm than Malcolm looked himself.

"These are not Malcolm's curses."  I finally spoke up.

"They are the curses God Himself win lay on you for what you have done.
It is incestuous and you will breed only horror," Ipredicted.
Christopher looked at me with great pain in his eyes.  Now it was he
who felt betrayed by me.

"Then we will go," Christopher said.  He turned Corinne from us and the
two of them walked to the front door.  He looked back once, defiantly.
Corinae, still crying, looked lost and frightened.

After a moment they were gone.

Malcolm's fory burst.  He lifted his arms toward the ceiling and
released a howl that emerged from the deepest recesses of his being. It
was the howl of a beast in fatal agony, a howl that shook Boxworth
Hall, echoing down die corridors and through the shadows, seemingly
gaining volume and intensity as it travele Perhaps the ghosts of all
his ancestors howled with hii Fora moment there was a chorus of
Malcolms cry ii their pain and torment.

The scream that had emerged suddenly died quickl Malcolm fumed toward
me, his eyes bulging, and 1 grasped at the air, churning at it to bring
oxygen to t face.  He clutched his chest and his legs crumpled, the
fell to the floor, I heard John Amos behind me.

"God's wrath has come to this house today," 1 muttered.  Then he joined
me at Malcolm's side.

Malcolm was sprawled on his stomach, his right ar under his head.  John
turned him over and we saw tl distortion in his mouth.  The right side
of his face w collapsed.  The corner of his lips dipped, revealing h
clenched teeth.  His eyes were turned upward as thou he were trying to
see into his own head.  He made < effort to speak, but nothing could be
heard or uride stood.

"Call the physician," I shouted.

The doctor insisted Malcolm be taken to the hospita I saw the
resistance in his eyes; he shook his head at begged me silently to
oppose the doctor's orders.

"Of course.  Doctor," I said.

"I want only what best for my husband.  Call for the ambulance."  Latet
would learn that the doctor told people I was one of tt strongest women
he had ever encountered in the mid of a terrible crisis.

The ambulance attendants came and took Malcoln speeding him off to the
hospital, where he remained f< nearly a month in a private room with
round-theckx personal nurses.  Every time John Amos and I visile him,
he pleaded with us to take him hvrae.  At first'l Garden of Shadows
could plead only with his eyes, for he had experienced a stroke as well
as a heart attack and the entire right side of his body was
paralyzed.

By the time we brought him home, he had regained some of his muscle
control and he could make distorted sounds that resembled words.
Sometimes I thought I heard him calling Corinne.

The days dragged by monotonously.  It was as though time itself had
weakened and could barely move on from hour to hour.  Malcolm remained
confined to a wheelchair and could not go to his offices.  AH his wor^
was brought to me.  And I was thankful for every bit ojl it because
while I had things to occupy my mind I cdS not wander through Foxwbrth
Hall, torturing myself with memories, wondering how I could have made
things end differently.

The house seemed like a giant tomb.  Our footsteps echoed through the
emptiness.  The clang of dishes and utensils could be heard from the
kitchen across the great foyer.

The servants traded information as each teamed another tidbit,
whispering, listening eagerly.  None of them would ask anything about
Corinne; or Christopher directly, but I knew John Amosgave them just
enough information to fan the embers of their curiosity.

Our dinners were mime shows.  From the moment Malcolm was wheeled up to
the table, not a word was spoken.  He ate mechanically, his gaze ahead,
looking through me, looking, I was sure, at the pictures he saw behind
his eyes.  His daydreams were like cobwebs, easily torn to shreds as he
muddled through the memories, groping for some understanding of
Corinne's betrayal.

Por days he wouldn't mention her name, nor would Garden of Shadows
anyone in his presence.  If he said anything, it always prefaced with,
"When this is over .. ."  Ice imagine his nightmares, the nightmares
that shadow his days.  Corinne's hauntingly beautiful face had sei him
and dragged him into endless dreams of loss ;

defeat.  They lingered on the surface of his skin unti became a ghost
himself.

John Amos and I would take out the Bible and la across Malcolm's chest,
open to the pages we wanted read.  I had, like Malcolm before me, gone
throug transformation with John Amos's help.  I now kne could trust his
connection to God completely, for, even knowing the secret about just
who Corinne v he had instinctively seen the truth, and tried to lead to
it before it was too late.  But I, indeed, had been blind to see.  I
was determined never to be blilK again.

"Olivia," John Amps would comfort me, " ways of the Lord are mysterious
but always just.  I ki He will give you an opportunity to redeem the he
ini sin of your daughter and her uncle."

His words froze my heart.

'"The:truth is always found in our Lord," he con ued.

"Get down on your knees, woman, and save y soul."  .  ; :: - ^ / .  , .
;,..

"I can't get down on my knees, for I haven't to honest with the Lord.
You don't know the wh truth."  .. , .  .,..: .. - .  ;

"Come, Olivia, confess everything."

I knelt beside him; "Oh, John, it's worse than i imagined."  I felt the
devil gripping my throat, bt forced the words through' his evil
fingers.

"Christop is not really Corinne's half uncle.  He is her 1 brother."
-;^.-^-"."-" : - -..".- --t Garden of Shadows "What!  My God, woman,
how could this happen'" "You see, John Amos, Malcolm was in love with
Alicia and he made her pregnant after Garland died, and he forced her
to give Corinne to us.  And then she went away.  And no one ever knew I
wasn't really Corinne's mother."  I looked at the floor, my face filled
with shame, too much shame to face John Amos..

"Rise up, woman," he commanded me.

"Bor you know the depth of your sin--you have not so much sinned as
been sinned against, and God has already sent down his sword to fell
your husband.  He shall do the same to his children, I assure you.  He
shall do the same.  Now we must watch over Malcolm, Olivia, watch over
his business dealings, take control of this heathea household and turn
it to God again.  Let us pray, Olivia.

Our Father, who art in heaven .. .".

As though my confession brought hope back into Foxworth HaB, Malcolm's
speech began improving.

The doctor explained that although he might improve even more, he would
never speak normally again.

Because of the way his facial muscles had collapsed, he looked as
though he wore a perpetual happy smile.  In a strange, almost eerie
way, that smite of distortion suggested the charm and handsomeness he
had once enjoyed as a young man.  It was as though a mask of his former
self had been cast in ceramic and pressed onto his face forever, i

When I felt charitable, I petmitted him to be wheeled to his desk so he
could look over the papers and the business dealings I bad managed.  At
first I simply followed the regular Older of things, studying Malcolm's
work and making decisions in a like manner.  But Garden of Shadows
after a while, when I felt confident enough, I made decisions that were
purely my own.  I moved money around the stock market, changed
procedures in some of the mills, bought and sold some real estate.

At first he was shocked by my independent activity.

He demanded I return things to the way they had been, but I ignored
those demands.

I had also provided a large annual salary for John Amos, transferring
funds regularly to his personal accounts.  Despite Malcolm's illness,
it took him only moments to realize it.  He held up the bank
statement.

"Malcolm, you have to understand that things are not as they were.  You
should be grateful for what you| have left considering all that you
brought upon your self.  And you should be grateful that you have me
and John Amos at your side.  Could you imagine a woman!

like Alicia or even your daughter contending with all this?  Would she
be able to assume these business responsibilities?  Would things be
running as smoothly?

Could she even set eyes on you in your defonnedt state?"  I asked
bitterly.

"What she would do is run otf| with all your money; that's what," I
added in a fury.  ^ walked over to the desk and easily took the bank
sheefi out of his hands.  <?

One day, almost two years after his stroke, Malcolm*;

looked up from his wheelchair while I worked behind!

his desk.  I had him wheeled into the library occasionally while I
worked and read him some of the decisions I had made and some of the
results.  I knew he didn't want to be there, and he especially didn't
want to hear of my actions; but it brought me some pleasure, so I had
him wheeled in and excused his nurse.  ^ This particirilwday, an early
spring day, Garden of Shadows pouring through the window behind me and
warning my back, I saw that Malcolm had a new expression on his face.
It was a softer expression than usual.  Life eyes were gentle, the blue
in them almost warm.  I knew he was thinking of something that brought
him good memories.  I paused in my work and looked up expectantly.

"Olivia," he said.

"I must know something; I must learn something.  Please," he pleaded.

"I know you have hard feelings for me, but be merciful enough to' grant
me this one request."  I was reminded of 'the-Malcolm who had first
come to New London, the one who filled my heart wfth such hop^F Ahtf
proimse^llte one who had walked withime along the bcean^frdnt'anrf'
made me feel I could be cherished arid loved like any other woman.

"What is this request?"  I asked, sitting back in the seat.  He leaned
forward hopefully.

"Hire some detectives to find out what happened to Corinne and
Christopher.  Where have they gone?

What are they doing?  And .. . and ..."

"And if they have had any deformed children?"  I asked coldly.  He
nodded.

"Please," he begged, leaning as far forward as he could in his
wheelehair.

So many nights I had lain awake thinking about Christopher and Corinne,
trying to harden my heart against them, but in a small corner that
perhaps even God didn't see, loving them still.

"You told her she was dead that day she revealed her love for
Christopher.

Resurrecting her now will bring only pain and agony."I "I know, but I
can't facfc the fact that Twill go to my death not knowing the fatt ex
test of what..  . of what

3K

I've begun.  Please grant me this.  I beseech you.

promise never to ask anything else of you, to make r demands, to sign
over anything you want, whatever.

he said.  The tears rolled from his eyes, a symptom < his condition. He
often cried at the slightest provoc lion, but the doctor told me he was
often not aware of himself.  ;

To me he looked pitiful.

Suddenly, a feeling of utter defeat came over me as looked at the
broken, twisted man in the wheelcha^ For the first time, I realized
that something of mine h| been damaged.  Once I had had a strong,
power| husband, a man respected and feared in the commun| and business
world.  Despite what our relationship lAg been, I was still Olivia
Poxworth, wife of Malcq| Baxworth, a leader of men.  Now I had a path |
invalid, merely a shadow of his former self.  ,?|| In a real sense,
Corinne and Christopher had dj this to us.  Where were they now?  How
well had ^| fared?  Did the God who could wreak such havoc: J vengeance
upon the House of Fbxworth follow t||| tOO?  .. , - .  "jjj "Very
well," I said.

"I will do so immediately.

"H

"Oh, thank you, Olivia.  God bless you."  H "It's time for you to go
back to your room and nj| I told him.  H "Yes, yes.  Whatever you say,
Olivia."  He tu^ about, making a pathetic effort to wheel himself aj I
called for the nurse and she pushed him to his hjb All the while he
kept mumbling, "Thank you.  Of Thank you."  -.J I sent for John Amos
immediately.  U "I want you to go into Charlottesville," I said a^J as
he came into the library "and hire the best detectives you can find to
trace the whereabouts of Corinne and Christopher.  I want to know all
about them, every little detail that can be discovered."

Johnscowled.

"What is the reason for this?"  he asked.  Then he saw the anger rise
in my face.

"Of course, if it's what you want."

"It's what I want," I said distinctly.  ' He nodded quickly, "I'll go
imriiediateiy."  .  y, A little more than a month later, we
receiYed.Qur first detailed report.  John Anjos bjtMig&t.the
lAsteeitfve into the library.  Malcolm was still in his room.  I wasn't
going to tell him anything until I learned it first myself.

The detective wa a homely little man who looked more like a bank
teller.  Later I was to learn that that was an advantage for him.  No
one took any notice of him.  His name was Cruthers and he had
poor-fitting thick-lensed glasses that continually slipped down the
bridge of his nose as be spoke.  I was impatient with?

him, but I forced myself to listen..

"They live under the name of Dollanganger," he began.

"That's why it took me a while to track them down."  ; ..;.

"I'm not interested iir the details of your struggle, Mr.  Cruthers.
Just give me the facts you have learned," I demanded sternly.

"Yes, Mrs.  Fbxworth.  Christopher Dollanganger is working as a public
relations executive for a large firm located in Gladstone,
Pennsylvania.  From what I could gather, he is very well liked," he
added.

"Public relations?"  I said.

"Of course, after you and Malcolm pulled out your financial support of
Christopher, he could not cont in medical school," John Amos said, and
sin Cruthers stared at John.

"Go on With your report, Mr.  Cruthers," I < manded.

"Mrs.  Dollanganger is considered an attractive good wife and
mother."

"Mother?"

I said quickly.

"They presently have a son, a boy almost two.

boy's name is Christopher."

"What have you learned about him?"  I asked so My heart beating quickly
in anticipation.

"A beautiful child," he said.

"I saw him.  Go hair, blue eyes.  Seemingly a bright boy."

"It can't be," I said.  I sat back.

"These are hot same people.  Perhaps these two are a different Chr pher
and Corinne.  Yes," I said, convinced or possibility.

"You've traced the wrong couple."

"Oh, but pardon me, Mrs.  Foxworth, no.  No, thi no doubt about who
they are.  I had pictures, c forget.  I've seen them both close up.
They areA Christopher and Corinne."

"They are not mine," I insisted.  He looked to 3 Amos and "then stood
there silently.

"What else I you learned about them?"  I asked.  < "Well now, Mrs.
DoUanganger is pregnant agfi he said tentatively.  I "Pregnant?"  I
looked to John Amos.  There w wry smite on his: face again.  He
nodded.

"This time child will be different," I whispered, .  r "What's that,
Mrs.  Foxworth?"  Cruthers asked.

"Nothing.  I want you to stay with this and re here the day Mrs.
Dollanganger gives birth.  I was know all about the new child.  Do you
understand The End of the Line the DAYS, THE MONTHS, THE YEARS PASSED,
TMCK1 like grains of sand through an infinite hourglas found relief
only in prayer and work.  Cmthers made two more appearances at Fbxworth
Hall, the to announce the birth of a healthy girl named Ca the second,
eight years later, to make an even n startling announcement--the birth
of twins, a boy a girl, once again healthy and perfect.  It seel
Christopher and Corinne's family were all bright beautiful; in fact,
Mr.  Cruthers reported, they known in their town as the Dresden dolls,
becaua their beautiful blond hair, their blue eyes, their flaw
complexions.

I never told Malcolm about Mr.  Cruthers's visits.

stroke had aged him quickly, although he seemec have reached a point
from which he would degenei no further.

Of course, his temperament changed.  In the bej ning, when he first had
his stroke and his heart att^ there was still some fight left in him;
he hadn't acce| 362 ^ Garden of Shadows his condition as permanent
then.  But when he sat in his wheelchair now, there wasn't that
impatience, that stiff, demanding posture that revealed the battle
continuing within him.  The defiance that had once resided in his blue
eyes gradually departed.  His eyes dimmed like candles in the night,
their once bright flames growing smaller and smaller as they lost the
energy that had once fueled them;

And the shadows began to move in around him.

Often I would find him content to sit in the darkest corner of his room
or of the foyer.  This man, "wBoltaff once moved with such energy and
power'that'fli^ appeared to manufacture his own Hg|it, now safdrapieff
in darkness.  Slowly, with painstafcHig deternnriaiBon, the shadows of
Fbxworth HaB were clainung him.

Although his speech had unprovedttf thepamt where he was easily
understood by anyone, h^began to refrain from conversation.  His
nurses, and he had nearly a dozen different ones over the years,
learned to read his gestures and knew what he wanted when he waved his
hand or jerked his head.  The only times his voice rose was when he
joined John Amos and me in our daily prayers.

I knew that his effort to survive and bear the pain and indignity of
age and sickness came from his great desire to see and believe in his
own redemption: We asked God to make good use of us, and we pleaded
for

His forgiveness.

I moved back and forth from the religious world to the business world,
each time folly submerging myself in the work and the demands each
required, for as long as I was occupied, I was comfortable and secure.
I grew to despise those quiet moments when I was afforded some
relaxation.  Relaxation meant^ confronting my memories.  Those memories
hovered about me, buzzing in the back of my mind like a circle of mad
insects, looking for an opportunity to pierce my fortress of relative
peace.  Old voices echoed; shadows and ghosts slipped along corridors,
resurrected by the sight of one of Mal's or Joel's old toys, of the
piano, now fore vet

silenced in the parlor, of Corinne's old room.  ^ I tried to avoid
whole sections of the house, staying away from the north wing.  I kept
the door to the Swan Room closed and I kept the door to Malcolm's
trophy room closed.  I had pieces of furniture, trunks, pictures,;

and articles of clothing taken up to the attic.  I did aft that I could
to hold back the past, to dam it up behind aA protective wall of
distance and time; but it bad its wayd of slipping through.  4 Memories
and time took their toll on me as well| Once again my life was painted
gray, as it had bee il before I came to Foxworth Hall, as I had feared
i^j always would, be.  But I no longer feared gray, I bad| become one
with it.  It was the only color I wore, it wai| the color of my hair,
the color of my eyes, the color o^ my hopes, the color of my life.  ,|
This was who I was; this was who I had become^ Prayer and work bad
hardened me until I was a statuo| of myself.  But I was convinced that
this was what God| wanted, this was what God had designed.  ,||

A letter, a pink, perfumed letter, changed all that|| One afternoon, as
I was sorting through ray mail, l| came upon a pale rose envelope so
startling among th|| white formal business letters.  It was addressed
to Mr<| and Mrs.  Malcolm Neal Foxworth.  I recognized th| handwriting
immediately.  It.  still had the girlish swirht|| but now the letters
were oddly shaky.  I sat for minutet^ staring at the unopened envelope.
What could Corinne want from us now?  Hadn't she done enough?  Andyet,
and yet my heart jumped for joy when I recognized that girlish
handwriting.  How I missed the life and love she had brought to
Poxworth Hall.  The only warmth in my life had fled along with Corinne
and Christopher.  Did she miss us as much as we missed her?  I had to
find out.

With trembling fingers I opened the envelope, In my hand the letter
felt as soft and warm as.  if it were made of her very flesh.  My own
pounding pulse drummed through my veins until I felt it at the tips of
my fingers.  AsTbegan to read/Iheardherv< ceand saw her blue eyes
pleading..  ^ .  /

Dear Father and Mother, I know how strange it must be for you to
receive a letter from me after all these years.  Unfortunately, the
first letter I write to you must be one filled with tragic news.  My
Christopher, our Christopher, beautiful, gentle Christopher, who I know
you loved despite everything, is Asad.

Yes, dead.  He was killed by a drunken driver.  And on his thirty-fifth
birthday!

But there is good news too.  We have been blessed with four beautiful
children, all with golden hair and blue- eyes, with wonderfully perfect
features, bright arid lovely children, children you would be proud to
call your grandchildren.  We have a son, Christopher, fourteen; a
daughter, Cathy, twelve; and twins, Cory and Carrie, four.  How
Christopher loved-them so, and how they loved him.  , And Christopher
was doing so well.  H&couldn'tgoon to become a doctor.  It was a
terrible sacrifice, but one he was willing to make in the name of love.
It was painful to watch him put aside his medical studies and take up
another profession so that we could live and raise our family in
comfort and security.  But I blame no one, no one; and neither did he.
He never stopped loving you and talking about all that you did for him.
You must believe I am saying that because it is true.  Please, please,
believe me.  You surely remember him and how he was ^ and know that he
would be that way even to the day he died.

I am writing to you now because Christopher's death g has left us on
the verge of destitution.  I am selling^.

everything of value just to keep us alive, fed, and clothed.  I know
that it was my own fault that I was never serious enough to develop any
skills which could be put to practical use now.  I take full
responsibility for that.

Mother certainly provided me with enough of a mode, but I could never
hope to have her strength and fortt tude.

I beg you now to consider our plight and look upon u&;

with forgiving eyes.  I know much has to be done to win;

back your love, but I am willing to do anything, any thing, to win that
love back.  Please think about permit^H ting us to return to Foxworth
Hall so that my children^ can grow up knowing the good things and the
hapj^| things.  Please rescue; us.  At"|| I promise we will be perfect;
we will obey your ever|lf command.  My children are well-mannered and
intel NH gent and will understand anything that is required o4|j them.
We ask only for the chance to try.  ^ Please have mercy on us and
remind yourselves thilJB my children are Foxworths, even though we
thought fli best to take on the name Dollanganger, a FbxwortS)j
ancestor."."" ':' : " ?;!  "'":'"

"366 Garden of Shadows I wait eagerly for your reply.  I am a woman
broken and tost and terribly afraid.

Love< Corinne

There actually were teardrops at the bottom of the sheet.  I didn't
know if they were mine or hers.  Christopher dead!  No matter how much
I felt they had been wrong, that their love was sinful, I never would
have wished this upon them.  God, indeed, was vengeful; I tried to
stand, but the room seemed w be wnafeqf around me, shadows and ghosts
weavingin" and out,1 their terrible maws laughing, mocking me; What
had!

done?  What had I done?  Had God misunderstood my prayers?  I couldn't
bear to think that.  There had to be some other explanation.  My mind
frantically searched until it found John Amos.  He would know, he would
know what to do.

"God has delivered a message," he intoned, crumpling the delicate pink
letter in his bony hand.

"A message, John Amos?  What kind of a god wpyld do this to
Christopher?"

"A god who abhors sin.  And it was you, Olivia, who confessed how vile
the sin actually was.  God is restoring order to His universe.  And He
has now presented you with an opportunity to help Him.  Those children
are the devil's spawn, born of an unholy union abomiable in the eyes of
God."

"What do you mean, John Amos?  What does God expect of me now?"

He gazed heavenward, as if silently communicating with the Lord.  His
arms stretched out.  He seemed to embrace an invisible power.  Then,
clenching his hands Garden of Shadows into fists, he grasped that
power and struck his chest "Let Corinne and her children come," he
declared "But hide those children away from the world forever End the
lineage of sin now.  Do not let them remain ii the world to infect
others."

I left John Amos and spent the rest of the day aloa in my room, praying
to God for guidance.  For though;

understood John Amos's interpretation, I could na accept it.  God
forgive me, I still loved Corinne; bn what had she done to me?  She had
forced me jki become the captor of her children.  She had forced mi to
be a vengeful instrument of the Lord.  Forced me < be that cold gray
woman I so longed not to be.  I wanti?

to be a grandmother, I wanted children to love an dote on, who would
look up to me with love in the eyes.  And what had she presented me
with?  The dev| spawn.  Now every time their faces gazed into mine...
would see the devil; every time their hands louche me, I would be
touched by the devil; every time thfi voices called me, I would be
called by the devil," envisioned their sweet faces, their silky blond
haj their bright blue eyes.  Oh, I would have to steel my^ not to love
them.  For the devil always favored thos^l sent to do his work with
charms and beguilements:

would have to turn myself into a gray stone fortress l| those charms
pierce my heart and claim me for t devil's work.

That night, the last drops of love drained from'i heart, and I became
only the instrument of the Lord dreamt that night of a dollhouse, a
dollhouse filled w such sin that it emanated its own hell fires  The
voidf God spoke to me: Olivia, it boomed, I have put youl earth to end
that fire.  I poured water over that fire^ Garden of Shadows still it
burned.  I tried to blow out that fire with my own breath, but it still
burned.  Then I built a glass enclosure around it, and slowly, slowly
that fire was stifled until it was burning only embers.

The next morning I resolved to carry out John Amos's plan.  I knew then
and there I must confront Malcolm.  He was sitting in his wheelchair
gazing out the parlor window at the bright summer flowers that mocked
the perpetual winter that lived in Fbxworth "Corinne is coming home," I
announced.

"Corinne?"  he whispered.

"Corinne?"

"Yes, Malcolm, yesterday I received a letter from her.  Christopher was
killed in a car accident, and Corinne begged us to take her back.  And
we shall."  I had struggled many hours with the decision about what to
tell Malcolm, and had decided that be must never know of the existence
of Corinne's children.  Malcolm loved Corinne so, as he had loved his
mother before her, as he had loved Alicia, I knew that once he knew
there were children, especially girls, his heart would be captured once
again.  No, I must take matters into my own hands this time; John Amos
was the only one whom I could trust.  It would be easy to hide the
children from Malcolm.  I would hide them in the north wing, just as he
had hidden Alicia, their true grand mother.  He was so frail, and I
knew he would be so taken with Corinne's return, he'd never suspect any
thing..

"I am going to go now and write Corinne a letter, welcoming her back to
Fbxworth Hall."

Malcolm still had not turned his face from the window.  I walked over
and rested a hand on his thin, stooped shoulder.  I felt him trembling,
Garden of' Shadows and peered around to see the tears coursing down
h:

cheeks.

Dear Corinne, You are welcome to return to Fbxworth Hall.  However, I
have not shown your father your letter.  If he knew you had children
with Christopher, nothing, nothing would persuade him to take you back.
With the help of John Amos, he has found in the Lord a refuge from his
pain, and he could never accept children born of an unholy, incestuous
union.

You don't know that your father suffered a severe stroke and heart
attack on the day you left.  Your actions reduced this strong and
vibrant man to a frail shell of his former self.

However, I have considered your plight, and prayed for guidance.  This
is my decision: You may bring your children to Fbxworth Hall, but your
father must never know of their existence.  The doctors tell me
Malcolm" does not have much longer to live.  Until the Lord calls" him
to His bosom, your children will stay up in the north" wing.  shut away
from his view and his-knowledge.  I will- see to it that they are
clothed and fed.  " I will expect you to redeem yourself and try to
make compensation for the pain you have caused me and your-3 father."
'. 'ji!

You must understand that it is up to you to prepare^ your children, and
to make certain they remain hidden^ and under control.  If they are
disobedient, or in any wsf^ reveal themselves, you will have to leave
Fbxworth Hall s as penniless as you arrived.  j!

Inform me immediately of your decision..a Trusting in God^ Your
Mother

370 I

Garden of Shadows Suddenly Fbxworth Hall would loom before them, like
a witch's castle in the fairy tales their mother surely would have read
them.  Its dark windows would look like dead eyes and its enormous roof
like an ink stain against the sky.  There would be nothing inviting in
its appearance.  All of them would gaze up at it, silent with their own
fears, their little hearts pounding.

I wanted to be alone when Corinne and her children arrived.  I wanted
them to see no one but me.  This was my moment, and I insisted, despite
my obedience to John Amos's plans and despite his protests, that hej
retire to his room for the evening.  | I had put Malcolm to bed around
ten o'clock.  | "Please, Olivia," he'd begged.

"I know this is the| night Corinne is coming, and I'd like to be up to|
welcome her."  | Love shone in his eyes, and I could see that in aH|
these years his doting on Corinne had not died.  Ohj| yes, I was right
not to have told him of the existence em the children.  He would have
fallen under their spell, am he always fell under the spell of
beauty.

"H

"Malcolm, Corinne will certainly be exhausted wheq she arrives.
Andifyoustay up so late, so will you.  Thj|| way, you will be well
rested and be able to greet her itSA the morning with foil enthusiasm."
^

Now the only thing left for me to do was wait.  I ha^j already prepared
the room in the north wing for thei^ arrival.  I had cleaned and dusted
and moved the tw^| double beds myself, for I couldn't allow a servant
t|| suspect even a breath of my plan.  As I'd moved th|| beds around, I
came upon Alicia's hairbrush, still mle|l| with strands of hair.  Over
the years the fine gotddj strands bad matted into a dusty, musty web^ I
set tfil||

37S

Garden of Shadows brush on the bureau without removing a single
thread.

Now Alicia's grandchildren would live here, just as she had.  And I
knew, just knew, that her granddaughters would use that brush.  Oh,
yes, they'd be the sort who made sure to brush their hair one hundred,
or even five hundred strokes a day.

I awaited their arrival for hours, pacing the long, dark corridors of
Fbxworth Hall.  From time to time I would go to the window next to the
servants' entrance and gaze out into the night.  A light snow had begun
to fall.  As I was pacing back and forth, back and forth, suddenly I
heard a branch snap, and I ran again to the window.  There they were,
like thieves in the night, four bundled children and their cloaked
mother.  I opened the door and motioned them inside.  Without a word 1
herded them all up the steep and narrow back staircase.

Corinne knew she was forbidden to speak.  She knew that one Whisper one
clumsy move, would reverberate through the long, empty halls of her
childhood home and alert the servants.  ' I led them directly to the
far room in the north wing.

I yanked open the door and nudged them into the room, tike a gentle
jailer might ustter a condemned:

man into his last cell.  When they were all inside, quietly shut the
door.  -' ) ^ Then I turned on the lamp.  Before me were four beautiful
children.  The boy, almost a man, was an exact replica of Christopher,
the same blond hair, the same blue eyes, the same sweet, intelligent
expression on his face.  Oh, how I longed to embrace him.  But I held
back, reminding myself of all I knew, of all that had transpired.  The
girl was (he spit and image of her mother at that age, and a flood of
memories threatened' to engnff me wf (ftewa ray harrf reso&e..  I
quickly asa.

Garden of Shadows looted away from her and examined the twins.  Two
cherubs stared up at me with big, frightened blue eyes.

As I stared down at them, they moved closer to each other, as if trying
to merge into one being.

"Just as you said, Corinne, your children are beautiful.

But," I added, "are you sure they are intelligent?

Do they have some invisible afflictions not apparent to the eyes?"

"None," Corinne cried.

"My children are perfect, as you can plainly see, physically and
mentally!"

She glared at me and began to undress the girl twin, who was nodding at
her feet.  Cooperatively, the older girl began to undress the boy twin
as Christopher's;

lookalike lifted one of the big suitcases onto the bed.  | He opened it
and took out two pairs of small yeUo | pajamas with feet.

Corinne lifted the twins into one of the beds pressed kisses on their
flushed cheeks, her hand ti bling as she brushed back the curls that
graced the foreheads, and pulled the covers up to their chin "Good
night, my darlings," she whispered.

I could not believe that their mother was going i allow two teenagers
of the opposite sex, to share t other bed.  Oh, how quickly all John
Amos had pi dieted was being revealed!  I scowled at Corinne.

"Yo two older children cannot sleep in one bed."

She looked surprised.

"They're only children," flared at me, "Mother, you haven't changed one
have you?  You still have a nasty, suspicious n Christopher and Cathy
are innocent."

"Innocent?"  I snapped back.

"That is exactly ' your father and I always presumed about you and half
uncle!"

Connne blanched.

"If you think like that, then;

them separate rooms and separate beds!  Lord knows this house has
enough of them!"

"That is impossible I said as idly as I could.

"This is the only bedroom with its own adjoining bath, and where my
husband won't hear them walking overhead, or flushing the toilet.  If
they are separated, and scattered about all over upstairs, he will hear
their Voices, or their noise, or the servants will.  Now, I have given
this arrangement a great deal of thought.  This is the only safe room. 
Put the two girls in one bed, and the two boys in the other," I
commanded.

Corinne refused to look at me, but slumped over to the bed and carried
the boy twin to the empty bed.  The two older children glared at me as
I continued to lay down the rules they were to abide by in this room.

After I finished, Corinne drew the two other children to her.  Her
hands stroked their hair and backs.

"It's aH right," I heard her whisper.  Trust me."  Then she turned to
me for an instant and her face twisted with the most ferocious look I
had ever seen on her.

"Mother, have some pity and compassion for my children.  They are your
flesh and blood too.  Keep that in your mind."  As she continued to
list their virtues and accomplishments, I closed my ears.  For they
were not of my flesh and blood, nor was she.  And much as I had loved
her, for the sake of my eternal soul I could no longer afford to do so.
I was tempted by her pleas, by her children's sweetness, but I hardened
my heart.

When Corinne saw that her words were not succeeding in softening my
resolve, she turned back to her children and bid them good night.

I waited at the door as Corinne slowly parted from her children.
Finally I pulled her arm, and just before I closed the door behind us,
I looked back at the The Phenomenal

VC.  ANDREWS

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VISA Cant*.

Sigi Melody is the story of a West Virginian girl abandoned with her
estranged family in Cape Cod after die death of herOKfhei.

"Hiere she discovers the truth behind the lies and secrets x^l^eL^^

Available from Pocket Star Books