Читать книгу Good Night, Mr. Wodehouse - Faith Sullivan - Страница 25

chapter fifteenchapter fifteen

ELVIRA HANDED CORA A CUP of holiday punch and drew a chair close. “Every year you’re more elegant,” she said, admiring the simplicity of Cora’s pale-gray gown. Near them, dancers swept across Laurence and Juliet’s parlor floor to the insistent pulse of “Under the Bamboo Tree.”

“Thank you.” Cora set the cup aside and took one of Elvira’s hands. “And every year you’re kinder.”

“Baloney, sez I.”

“I’m going to ask a favor again,” Cora said.

Elvira laughed. “‘Dance with George?’”

“He needs to dance,” Cora said, her gaze so unwavering Elvira had to look away. “He’s growing old.” Eyeing her husband from across the room, immersed in store talk with Howard Schroeder, Cora continued, “It’s because of me—don’t say a word. Not a word.

“If I could . . . dance, everything would be different. If I could do so many things.” Her voice grew sardonic. “I’m becoming a matron, Elvira.”

Never had Cora spoken so plainly, never had she and Elvira been so close. For Elvira this closeness was both flattering and disturbing, involving as it did responsibilities only half understood.

There was no question that she loved Cora, and Cora’s need made Elvira love her all the more. And George? Well, of course, no dearer man lived. She had recognised that fact the night, long ago—it was long ago, wasn’t it?—when he’d taught the little crowd at the Harvester Arms the new dance steps. No airs about him; only goodwill and generosity and an unconscious charm, charm that got under your skin because it was without guile.

“You’re fond of him, I know you’re fond of him,” Cora went on. “And he’s still young. He needs the warmth of a young woman, Elvira, so please make him feel young. Make him feel warm.” She squeezed Elvira’s hand until the young woman winced. “For me.”

Elvira glanced around the room of dancers, a room that ought to feel familiar. But in this strange moment, the room and the world in which it existed were suddenly unknown, utterly new. A thrill—or was it a terror—ran through her.

“Elvira! Just the person I’ve been looking for,” George’s mother broke in. “Let’s find a quiet corner. I have a proposition.” She led the way to a sunroom at the back of the house, away from the music.

Dazed, disoriented, Elvira followed. Another proposition?

They took seats on a settee before a small hearth. “Now then, Elvira, Mr. Lundeen and I have been discussing you. And we’re agreed that you’re too bright for the store.”

Elvira tried to focus. “I . . . love the store.”

“But you don’t want to spend your whole life there.”

How difficult it was, finding her way back into known territory. “No?” Cora’s words did not want to give way to Juliet’s. “For me,” Cora had said.

Juliet went on, “Now, what I suggest is only a proposal. And you’re free to tell me to mind my own business. But Laurence and I think you should go to college. Maybe the Normal School in Mankato. From what we’ve seen, you’re a born teacher.”

The older woman settled back and stared into the fire. “We’re very fond of you. You know that. When we were younger, we hoped to have a daughter. And, well, we do have a wonderful daughter in Cora—but we think of you that way, too.”

Elvira was silent, still dazed by the earlier conversation.

“Have I upset you?”

Catching hold of Juliet’s question, at last, Elvira shook her head, slowly, from side to side. “You couldn’t upset me. You and Mr. Lundeen have been so good to me, ever since the night at the church bazaar when he bought my apple pie.”

“Well, then, hear me out. We want to pay your expenses to college.”

“I don’t think . . .”

“Laurence says you’re not interested in marriage. That’s as may be. But a young woman without a husband needs a career.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. You could start in the fall, if that was convenient.” Juliet rose and shook out her skirts. “I have to get back to my guests. You think about it.”

Elvira felt as if she were in a game of blindman’s buff and, blindfolded, had been spun round and round. She sat, dizzy and unstirring, her brain groping.

If she’d understood correctly, the Lundeens were offering her college. Teacher’s college. Such a thought had never crossed her mind. She was a country girl who’d been happy to find a place in town. And what of Cora and George? Stupefied, drugged with confusion, she massaged her brow.

“Cora says you’ve promised me some waltzes.” George Lundeen appeared in the doorway, light from the chandelier in the next room silhouetting him, projecting a figure of mystery. He held out a hand and Elvira rose, a pulse beating hard in her throat, her bones melting. She did not think she could stand upright if he did not hold her—and she him.