“Now, then,” she said, taking a more formal tone again, “the day after tomorrow, we will go to one of my favorite boutiques in Manhattan to start your personal wardrobe. I’m sure Sheena has told you something about it. She’s coming along with us.”
“Yes,” I said. “She was very excited about it.”
I had made up my mind never to lie to her or pretend ignorance of anything anymore. It wasn’t worth the risk, and she was too perceptive to miss any deceptions. I used to think I was good at that, but I realized now that I was sitting alongside a master.
“From time to time, during your stay here, I will have other guests. I want them to meet you. I rely on some of them for their impressions, but as I told you, I never depend on any of them—on anyone else, in fact—to come to a conclusion about any of my girls. We’ll have dinner parties, cocktail parties, even some sort of picnic as the weather continues to improve. I’ll be taking you to Broadway shows and concerts, here and in other cities, in time even in other countries. I intend to cram a great deal into your head very quickly before I send you out into the field, Roxy, but by the time I’m finished with you, any resemblance between you and the errant young woman Mr. Bob brought here will be difficult to discover. I have a feeling that won’t upset you in the least.”
“No, it won’t,” I said.
She nodded and turned her head just slightly to signal Randy, who hurried out with our dinner, a delicious branzino, something I’d never had. She went on to describe it as a silver-skinned fish found in European seas and saltwater lakes.
“Some call it European sea bass, spigola, loup de mer, róbalo, or lubina,” she said.
As I listened to her talk about gourmet foods, wonderful restaurants in world cities, her travels and cultural experiences, and some of the castles she had been to, I found myself growing more infatuated with her. The hard shell I had first encountered seemed to melt away. More and more, I realized how much I wanted to be like her. She would rapidly become someone I would idolize. She was rising higher on my list of women to emulate.
For a few moments, I felt terribly guilty about that. Once, when I was very young, I wanted to be like my mother, but as I grew older, I couldn’t tolerate how subservient she was to my father. He loved her, I was sure, but he was blind to how firmly he controlled eve
n her emotions, forbidding her tears, sweeping away her protests and complaints, retreating from any compromise that might overtake him and cause him to be more reasonable.
Mrs. Brittany would be a formidable opponent for him, I thought. She would bend him. He wouldn’t be so eager to rage in her face or throw ultimatums and commands at her like rice at a bride. I laughed to myself, imagining a day in the future when I would introduce them. It was a pipe dream, of course, but an amusing fantasy.
We didn’t have any dessert. She wanted me to attend to whatever material Professor Marx had given me and to work on the elocution lessons Professor Brenner had assigned. We walked out together and paused in the hallway to say good night.
“Is it really all right for Sheena to go horseback riding with me tomorrow?” I asked. “I mean, considering her physical condition and all. I don’t want you to think I put her in any compromising position or . . .”
She smiled. “No. The question is more like, is it all right for you to go with her? You haven’t had proper lessons. She’s a seasoned equestrian. She’s overcome many things, but she needs her confidence strengthened. I suspect the two of you will do that for each other. Good night,” she said, and walked off to join Mrs. Pratt, who waited for her outside her office.
I hurried up the stairs. My heart was full of hope. This private dinner with her had gone well. I was going to do well. I was confident that I was going to leave that—what did she call me?—errant young woman behind. I hadn’t felt this happy for some time, and it was all because I was growing stronger, not just physically but also in my belief in myself. If mon père hadn’t thrown me out, none of this would be possible.
Yes, I’m in the right place, I thought, and hurried to meet Sheena in my suite and go over the work Professor Marx had given me. She was waiting there, sitting at my vanity table and dabbling with her hair and eyebrows. She spun around quickly when I entered.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to use your things.”
“That doesn’t matter. Don’t be foolish.”
“Oh, I was so worried about you,” she said.
“Why?”
“I thought . . . you were taking too long. I was sure my grandmother was lecturing you, and maybe you were angry and saying bad things, because she can be so difficult, and you would hate her and would want to leave right away.”
“No, it was a wonderful dinner. And I like her,” I said. “I like her very much.”
Her face blossomed with a wide smile.
“But I’d better not let her down,” I said, warning myself as much as Sheena. “I have to keep doing well, or she’ll banish me from her kingdom. There is no doubt about that. She won’t tolerate failure.”
“Oh, yes. Right. I’ve been through your assignments again. Let’s start with that. I’ll listen to you practice your speech assignment, too. I’ve had similar lessons. I know what to listen for. Let’s not waste time.” She smiled. “After all, there’s so much more I want to learn from you, too. What did you call it, that quid pro quo?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing.
We did my work. She was a stern and diligent tutor, sometimes taking on expressions that reminded me of her grandmother when I made mistakes. Afterward, I knew we were up too late talking. Actually, I was doing most of the talking. I told her about some of the different boys I had been with, finishing with Steve Carson. She was most intrigued by a young man his age being as much of a virgin as she was when I had first met him.
“And shoplifting just to get his attention,” she added, feigning a little disapproval, when I could see the whole story excited her.
“I wasn’t all that surprised at his innocence. Just about all of the boys I’ve known weren’t too sophisticated when it came to sex,” I told her. “Most of the time, it wasn’t remarkable. As a matter of fact, I told Steve that making love to him was like brushing teeth, something just necessary. Needless to say, it was another great disappointment.”
“Maybe that’s good. Maybe sex shouldn’t be just another thing we do,” she said. “Maybe it cheapens us. At least, that’s what I read in a novel recently.”