The Rose Garden Read online

  “Oh, I’ll admit I have my little following,” Lewis said, grinning.

  “Well, of course some of the maids must cherish secret passions,” Dolly said. “Poor things. How they must look forward to tonight.”

  “There’s no secret about their collective passion for Charles,” Leona said. “Charles maintains that only servants can dance the waltz really well, Edward. Female servants, that is. He says their souls are clad in caps and streamers. They hold their heads up to keep the caps on, whirl to make the streamers flutter, and so they achieve the perfect posture for the waltz. You see, Charles, how well I remember what you say?”

  “Your memory is phenomenal, darling,” Charles said, “and quite accurate, too. That is just how I imagine them when I dance. I keep my eyes shut tight, of course, and the hall seems filled with black and white dresses, the full black skirts, the frilly white aprons, and streamers—oh, it’s a charming picture. My waistcoat provides the significant, necessary note of color. Can you see it all, as I do now?”

  “You should have been a painter, Charles,” Dolly said shyly.

  “Dolly banal,” Charles said, but kindly. “We can always count on you, can’t we, dear.”

  “What are you wearing, Leona?” Dolly asked hastily. “I bought a pair of black net stockings with rhinestones on the insteps. After all, it is sort of a fancy-dress thing for us. And why not give those nice cops something to look at, I thought.”

  “Very generous of you, darling,” Leona said. “I’m wearing the white crêpe, you know. That should get them.”

  “They were eager enough last year,” Lewis said. “I was afraid they’d eat you girls up. The atmosphere got almost primitive.”

  Leona laughed throatily. “Well, I do think they like us to come,” she said.

  “I think it’s a nice thing for us to do,” Dolly said. “I think it’s something we ought to do,” she added virtuously.

  “Well, of course, they’re honored that we come to their little party,” Charles said. “Why, it’s positively feudal. And whether they know it or not, that’s why they enjoy it.”

  “Feudal my foot,” Edward said. He stood up suddenly, staggered, and was obliged to grab the handrail. “Feudal my foot,” he repeated. “You’re all itching to go. You wouldn’t miss going for the world.”

  “Well, that’s our old Edward,” Lewis said unpleasantly.

  “I always thought you were a friend of mine, Lewis. Did you know that?” Edward said.

  Lewis looked first at Dolly and then into his glass. “Of course I’m your friend, Edward,” he said.

  “That’s just it!” Edward shouted, ludicrous in rage, “You’re not my friend! None of you are. You all hate me. I should never have come. I thought there was something here. I thought we were all friends here. Old friends.” He seemed about to weep.

  “Edward,” Leona said. “Edward, darling, you’ve had quite a lot to drink, and you’re sitting in the sun. Please go and lie down. Please, Edward. Do go into the house.”

  “That’s right,” Lewis said. “What you need is sleep. You can lie out on Leona’s side porch. There’s shade there. Can’t he, Leona?”

  “Of course he can!” Leona cried. “Do you want any of us to go with you, darling? Oh, poor Edward, you’ve been through such a lot, and—”

  “Never mind about all that now, Leona. Never mind what I’ve been through. I know what you’d like. You’ve had your spectacle, and you want me to go away quietly, don’t you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like me to get on the bus and go back to New York. But I’m not going back to New York, see? I’m going to stay here till I’m good and ready to go, and I’m going to make this weekend so miserable that you’ll remember it for the rest of your days. I’m not leaving. I’ve no shame. I’ll make everything you say about me true—you see if I don’t. But don’t get your hopes up. I’m not leaving.” From the lawn, where he was standing now, he waved his arm at them. “I’ll be back,” he said, and started his unsteady progress toward the house.

  Charles made a disgusted gesture. “I always knew it,” he said. “The fellow is a peasant.”

  Lewis said, “I don’t envy him his head when he wakes up about four o’clock this afternoon and remembers all this. Did you know he took a bottle up with him last night, Dolly? He must have been drinking all night.”

  “Really,” Leona said, “I do wish he’d go. I’ve seen enough of him to last me a very long time.”

  Charles smiled. “Oh, we may as well see the finish,” he said. “Mr. Tarnac seems to have gone through so many metamorphoses since his arrival. First, an almost touching friendliness. Then this morning, morose silence. Now, a futile aggressiveness that is more pathetic than anything. And tonight, I expect, painful penitence. We’ll just have to be nice to him, my dears, but don’t get so softhearted that you invite him down again, Lewis—for all our sakes.”

  They were distracted by a shout. Edward had retraced his steps and was standing only a short distance away from them, balancing himself against the stone clown. “Do you know what you people are?” he shouted. “I just thought—do you know what you are?”

  “Oh, God, what now?” Leona whispered. “Charles, what will I do? The servants will hear him!”

  Charles stared grimly at the floor of the deck, hoping that by avoiding Edward’s eye he would also avoid his attention. The others, too, looked down, praying for silence.

  “You’re the people who never make mistakes, that’s what you are!” Edward bellowed. “Do you hear me? You’re the people who never make mistakes! Not a single mistake does a single one of you ever make in your whole lives! That’s what I think of you.” He turned back up the lawn, and disappeared in the direction of the Maitlands’ house.

  They all took exaggerated attitudes of relief.

  “Goodness,” Dolly said. “I couldn’t imagine what he was going to say. I was petrified! Is that bad, never to make a mistake? Really, I think Edward must be losing his mind.”

  Charles smiled benignly at her, and then his gaze continued past her and across the wide river to the opposite side, where the green bank rose solid to the tranquil blue sky. “I must congratulate you again on your deck, Leona,” he said. “An excellent idea. Such an educated view, my dear.”

  “And here at last is Bridie with the food,” Lewis said. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  “And poor George, bringing up the rear,” Leona said. “As usual.”

  “I still cannot believe that you’re actually married to a credit manager,” Charles said. “Not that George isn’t a dear, but it seems such an unlikely occupation. Almost exotic.”

  Leona, who always referred to George as a vice president of the store where he was employed, turned almost purple with shame, but she understood that she was being punished for her earlier boldness, and didn’t try to defend herself.

  At five o’clock that afternoon, jaded with talking about the dance, anxious now only to get on with it, willing even to have it past, so that they could start enjoying the discussion of it, most of the maids at Herbert’s Retreat lay down on their beds for an unaccustomed ceremonial nap before getting dressed for the evening. The fine white stone houses, those beside the river and those scattered a little distance from it, were silent—the families departed for cocktails and dinner, the maids, supine, for once acknowledged mistresses of the kingdom they regarded, in any case, as their own.

  The kitchens were deserted, but from every kitchen ceiling a freshly pressed dress, a long dress, hung and shivered gently in the mild breeze that stole up at intervals from the river. The maids’ dresses were of bright colors—pink, yellow, blue, violet, red, and green—because the girls liked to escape as thoroughly as they could from the grays and black-and-white of their daily uniforms.

  Only in Bridie’s kitchen was there a black dress to be seen, a matronly taffeta that hung with uncompromising stiffness from the center beam. Not far from the dress, Bridie herself, scorning sleep, sat at her table
by the window, stirring one of her eternal cups of strong tea. She had commanded her friend Agnes, who worked for the Gieglers, to join her, and at this moment Agnes sat drooping, with her pale eyes fixed on Leona’s lawn and her ears half attentive to Bridie’s conversation, which consisted, as usual, of a series of declamatory, denunciatory, and entirely final remarks.

  “Naps in the afternoon,” she said fiercely, slamming her wet teaspoon on the table. “If they were in their beds at a decent hour at night, when they ought to be sleeping, they wouldn’t be looking to lie down at this time of day. What do they want with naps, big strong lassies like them? Cocktails they’ll be after next, I suppose. Cocktails with the family, I suppose.”

  She drew up with a jerk, intrigued by the last picture she had conjured up. Suppose now, she thought, Mr. Harkey, or Mrs. Harkey herself, were to come out here and invite me to sit down for a cocktail with them. She glanced covertly at Agnes, who was still contemplating the grass.

  Bridie went on with her meditations. Well, then, I would sit down with them, she thought—not on one of the comfortable chairs but on an ordinary chair, just to show them that I know as much about good manners as they do, and I’d take a drink, whatever they were having themselves, and I wouldn’t be pushy, but neither would I be backward. “Mrs. Harkey,” I’d say, “as one woman to another—” “Oh, go on, Bridie,” she’d say, smiling a little bit. “Won’t you call me Leona? It’s ridiculous for us, living along here in the same house year after year, and not being real friends.”

  This pleasant scene was interrupted by Agnes, who spoke up suddenly in her thin, incurious voice. “Here’s Josie. I would’ve thought she’d be lying down along with the rest of them. I wonder what she’s after.”

  Bridie peered out the window. Josie, the newest maid at the Retreat, and one of the youngest, was crossing the lawn on quick fat legs, coming from the Maitlands’ house, where she worked. She was a short, stocky girl, with a pretty face.

  “She should have come round by the house,” Bridie said. “Mrs. Harkey hates to see anybody using up that lawn of hers . . . Well, and what brings you here this time of the day, Josie? I thought you’d be asleep like the rest of them.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Josie said. “I’m too nervous. And I’m all alone there, except for that Mr. Tarnac, and he’s up in his room sleeping it off.”

  Bridie nodded heavily at Agnes. “What was I telling you?” she said. “And where are all the rest of them?” she asked Josie.

  “They’ve all gone off driving somewhere. And then they’re taking the child to her grandmother’s, so they can go to the dance.”

  “And they didn’t ask Mr. Tarnac to go with them?” Bridie asked.

  “He wouldn’t go. Sure, he’s in no fit state to go anywhere. He’s been falling-down drunk ever since they got in last night. And the rest of them all making fun of him and all. I don’t know what sort of a fellow he is to put up with it. You should have heard them at dinner last night. You should have heard that little Mr. Runyon of yours. The things he said, I couldn’t begin to remember the half of them.”

  “It’s a pity Mr. Tarnac couldn’t stay where he was, and not give them the satisfaction of laughing at him,” Bridie declared. “The men around here were always envious of him, with his money and his big boat and his racing cars and all. And the women, that used to be throwing themselves at him, are congratulating themselves now that they stayed clear of him. The one here was forever inviting him over. And that Maitland lassie was very sweet on him. Oh, I believe to this day that there was more went on there than anybody’ll ever know about. But that little Mr. God—I hate to see him so set up. I hate to see him getting any kind of satisfaction. I heard him last night, himself and Mrs. Harkey talking after they came home. Laughing and carrying on about Mr. Tarnac’s clothes and the way he’s all broken up, and each of them repeating to the other what they’d said. And then this morning they couldn’t wait to start in on it again.”

  Josie, who had been listening respectfully, turned to Agnes. “Did you know Mr. Tarnac, Agnes?”

  “No, he was before my time,” Agnes said regretfully. “But Bridie’s been telling me all about the big house he had and how he sold it and all. And lost all his money. It’s a terrible thing, a man to throw away a fortune like that.”

  “But still and all,” Bridie said, “he’s a decent sort of a man, and I always liked him.” She almost believed she was telling the truth, but the fact was that when Edward Tarnac lived at the Retreat, he was no more to her than one of a group she hated; it was only in his new role that she liked him. She took the cups and saucers off the table and carried them over to the sink.

  Agnes sighed. “What are you wearing to the dance tonight, Josie?” she asked.

  “Me ballerina,” Josie said. “And me ballerina-type sandals. And I’ve dyed a pair of stockings to match. Pink. Do you think it’ll be all right?”

  “Lovely,” Agnes said. “Pink is lovely on you, Josie—lovely with your skin.”

  “That’s another thing!” Bridie shouted, splashing noisily among the dishes. “There’ll be Josie in her pink stockings, and you in that green getup of yours, Agnes, and that crew from here’ll be there laughing at you behind their hands and making little of you. That’s all they come for, to have something to laugh about. They make me sick.”

  Josie was red with indignation. “What’s Mrs. Maitland going out and buying special black net stockings for, then, if she’s only coming to laugh? Special stockings that she paid twelve dollars for. She’s dying to come to the dance, so she is. She went and spent twelve dollars for special stockings to wear to the dance. What would she do that for if she’s only coming to laugh? You’re only making it up, Bridie, to stop us from enjoying ourselves.”

  Bridie, who had abandoned the sink, stared at her in astonishment. “What’s that about stockings? Now, Josie, don’t start crying. I wasn’t trying to stop you from enjoying yourself. I was only thinking they’d be trying to stop you enjoying yourself. Now sit down and tell me and Agnes about the stockings Mrs. Maitland bought. Black, did you say they were?”

  “Black net,” Josie said, subsiding, “with a whole lot of rhinestones here—” She indicated her own chubby instep. “And she went all the way in to some special actresses’ shop in New York to get them. I heard her talking to Mrs. Ffrench about them yesterday afternoon when I was waxing the hall. ‘Aren’t they the sexiest things you ever saw in your life?’ Mrs. Maitland says. ‘Do you think our visiting policemen will like them?’ she says. ‘Why, I should think they’d go berserk,’ Mrs. Ffrench says, and they both laughed and laughed. ‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Mrs. Ffrench says. ‘I think they’re a dull collection, myself.’ ‘Oh, I think they’re sweet,’ Mrs. Maitland says, ‘and very attractive, some of them. Lewis was quite jealous last year. And you know, they’re wonderful dancers. I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’ Well, I was curious, wanting to know what they were talking about, so I went into the living room on the excuse of asking them did they want anything, and there was Mrs. Maitland with the long shorts on her, y’know? And the stockings up against her leg. She put them away quick, but I found them in her drawer this morning, and I looked at them. And the price was on them, twelve dollars. I’m telling you, wild horses wouldn’t keep her from the dance. She’s dying to go.”

  “Well, I declare to God,” Bridie said. She sat down at the table again. “What else did they say, Josie?”

  “Nothing, except Mrs. Ffrench asked Mrs. Maitland, ‘What’s Charles going to surprise us with this year?’ she says. ‘He had such an amusing outfit last year,’ she says, ‘and the girls made such a fuss over him,’ she says. ‘Oh, the girls adore Charles,’ Mrs. Maitland says, ‘and he’s like a little child about the dance, he’s so excited about it. He pretends not to be, of course,’ she says, ‘but you know it gets to be a bit of a bore, he can talk of nothing else all day afterward. You know, Charles is a tiny bit conceited,’ she says, ‘and he rather fancies
himself in the waltz.’ And then they went on talking about the party Mrs. Ffrench is giving next Friday. That was in the afternoon, before Mr. Maitland and Mr. Tarnac got here.”

  “‘The girls adore Charles,’ ” Bridie repeated. “‘The girls adore Charles.’ Sure they were all laughing their heads off at him, the way he was shaping around on the dance floor with his eyes closed and all. You never saw such a sketch in your life. We were all breaking our hearts laughing at him. And he brought those special little flat patent-leather shoes of his, too. I saw them when I was doing the room this morning. Well, I declare to God. And that one upstairs, Mrs. Harkey—I wonder what she’s going to doll herself up in. I declare to God, all the parties and all they have to go to, and they have to take over our little party, too. Wouldn’t you know it of them.”

  “And every time one of the fellows asks one of them to dance, one of us is left sitting!” Josie cried. “Oh, I know there’s extra men and all, but still I don’t think it’s fair. And all the money they have to spend on themselves and all, and us trying to struggle along on what we make—How can we put up an appearance against them? It’s not fair, so it’s not.” She stood up. “Well,” she said, “I’d better be getting home. I have to get ready for the dance, although I haven’t much heart for it now.”

  Bridie folded her arms and leaned on the table. “Wait a minute now, Josie,” she said. “Maybe there’s something we can do about all this. What do you say, Agnes?”

  “Sure what could we do?” Agnes asked nervously. “You don’t want to get into any trouble, now, Bridie.”

  “No need to get into any trouble,” Bridie said. “We could just pass the word around. They only come around to look. That’s what Mrs. Harkey said to me. ‘We’re only going to drop around for a little visit,’ she says to me, ‘Just for a look. It’s such fun to sit and watch.’ Well, then, let them look, if that’s what they want. We’ll boycott them. Very polite, of course, as though we thought they just came to look. As though we didn’t think they wanted to dance. Who can make any trouble out of that?”