Secret Whispers (Heavenstone 2) - Page 42

I stepped forward and closed the door on her.

Later, when I went downstairs, I saw Lucille sitting on the rear patio by herself. She was sipping a glass of wine and reading a large notebook. I wasn’t going to join her, but she turned sharply as if she could sense that I was standing there looking out at her. Not wanting her to think I was spying on her or anything, I continued out the French doors and joined her. It was a particularly beautiful twilight, with patches of milk-white clouds so still they looked pasted over the darkening velvet sky. Mother used to call these Angel Nights and told Cassie and me that the bright stars that appeared and grew even brighter were their eyes look

ing down on us all to decide whom they would help.

“If you look really hard,” she said, “you can see them.”

Cassie thought it was ridiculous, but I would swear even today that I did see angels.

Lucille smiled. “I’m glad you came out, Semantha. Please,” she said, indicating the seat across from her.

When I sat, I saw that the notebook was from the wedding planner. She closed it quickly.

“I’m sorry you saw me so angry today,” she began. “Believe me, that’s not my usual manner when addressing servants or any employees, for that matter.”

She took a sip of her wine. I wasn’t sure what she expected me to say, so I remained quiet.

“I think it’s admirable that you feel you have to defend Mrs. Dobson and Doris. After all, they’ve been with you much longer than they’ve been with me. Loyalty is a good thing when it’s directed to the right places.”

I realized Daddy must have told her what I had told him. It wasn’t a big betrayal, but it hammered home how serious and determined he was when he had said we would be keeping no secrets from each other. I realized he wanted to show me clearly that it would never be he and I on one side and Lucille on the other.

“Mrs. Dobson and Doris don’t break things, and if they did, they wouldn’t lie about it,” I said.

She shook her head and smiled again. “Semantha, Semantha, I envy you your innocence, especially when I consider all you’ve been through already in your young life. I, too, was eager to live in a world full of candy canes and lollipops, a world in which people were honest and true. It’s earth-shattering when you realize how few people you can really trust. Some people can’t deal with it at all and spend their entire lives with their heads buried in the sand. I always imagined them old and tired and alone, unable to rationalize or turn the other cheek any longer. It has to be far more difficult for them than for the rest of us who mature and become realistic early enough in our lives to avoid the pain.”

She tilted her head and changed the tone of her voice as if she were now talking to a very young child.

“Do you think your father got to where he is today by being naive and avoiding reality? Hardly. He is one of the most emotionally centered and one of the strongest men I have met, and it’s for that as well as his other wonderful qualities that I love him so dearly.”

“Neither Mrs. Dobson nor Doris ever lied to my father or me about anything,” I insisted. I would never even consider the alternative, no matter what she said.

She kept her smile, but the warmth left it so that it looked more as if she wore a photograph of her face.

“Whatever you choose to believe you can believe,” she said. “I simply want you to understand your place in this historic and important mansion and family. It’s one thing to treat your servants decently and fairly but quite another to place yourself on their level. There has to be a professional distance between you, me, and your father and them, Semantha. Some servants understand that distance well, and there’s never a problem. Some really resent being servants themselves, and no matter how they smile or speak to you, they really hate being at your beck and call.”

“But . . .”

“And there are some who don’t even realize themselves how much they resent being servants. Mrs. Dobson and Doris strike me as like that.” Her face hardened, her eyes more steely cold. “Now, I grew up with house servants, too, and most of my friends did the same. I know a quality servant when I see one. I’m not sure Mrs. Dobson and Doris are up to what’s required in a home this prestigious, working for a family this important.”

“Oh, but they are!” I cried. “Mrs. Dobson has worked in the homes of lords and ladies in London.”

“Titles are bought, and some are so thin they border on the ridiculous.”

“Whatever. Mrs. Dobson has been more like a grandmother to me, and—”

“Exactly. That’s my point.” She pounced. “A servant is not a member of your family, Semantha.” She relaxed her shoulders and smiled again. “However, let’s not talk about this right now. There are too many far more important things to discuss. We’ve got to lay out the wedding and reception as intelligently as we can on these grounds.” She looked at her watch. “Mr. Manglesthorpe, my wedding planner, is arriving soon. There’s enough time before dinner. We’ll walk the grounds and design everything. I’d like you to walk with us. Here,” she said, sliding the notebook across the table. “You can look over the set pieces, and if you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to make them. I love seeing things through younger eyes. Sometimes innocence has a refreshing point of view.”

“How come you don’t ask my father to help with all this?”

“How come? Simple. He’s thrown the whole thing in my lap, which is fine,” she said, smiling. “I only hope I live up to his expectations. Your opinions are very important to me, Semantha, not only in relation to the wedding but also for how the house will be run.”

“The house?”

“We’ll have to make changes to keep up with the times and our needs, won’t we?”

“I suppose,” I said, though I had no idea what she meant by “our needs.” It seemed that my father’s and my needs were very well attended to as it was. “Daddy doesn’t like to change much in the house, though.”

“Nothing will be so dramatic a change, something that would detract from the Heaven-stone image or anything, but a house is more than a furniture collection, statuary, and paintings. This is like a living, breathing animal.” She narrowed her eyes. “That’s why I really want you to take your time deciding what to do next, why I suggested you don’t rush right into working at the stores. I’ll have a great deal to do in and out of this house, and I’ll be depending on you to be involved and alert about what goes on within it.”

Tags: V.C. Andrews Heavenstone
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