Amanda, with the thin throb of fear in her voice again. “Jem, you’ve always been so wonderful. You’ve never failed me. I count on you so much. I don’t know what I’d do if …”
“I wouldn’t worry about Bill Lanier. Did you bring the tablets?”
“The—oh, yes.”
The little bottle was in one of her hands. Jem took it, moved away from her hands and from her, and came to Serena. He looked at the bottle, read the label, shook out two small tablets, scrutinized them rather closely, it seemed to Serena, got a glass from the bathroom while Amanda just stood there watching him rather thoughtfully, and came back. “Take these,” he said to Serena.
She did so obediently. He said: “Now go to bed. Good night, my dear. Don’t worry, Amanda.”
He left then. “Are you going home …?” began Amanda, but the closing door cut off her inquiry. There was a short silence. “Well!” said Amanda then, and looked at Serena. The thoughtful look in her beautiful face deepened. Her dark eyes were unfathomable, yet fixed hard upon Serena, as if seeking and plumbing something in Serena’s own thoughts. If there were questions and speculations going on behind that dark gaze, her beautiful face with its lovely, high cheek bones and painted red mouth gave no indication of their course. She came, though, to the chaise longue and sat down where Jem had sat and said quickly and decisively: “Look here, Sissy. Don’t get any ideas about Jem.”
“Ideas?” said Serena after a moment.
“You know what I mean. I’d better tell you something. You remember my wedding?”
“Of course.”
“Well. If Jem had had his way I wouldn’t have married Sutton. Jem fell in love with me the first time he saw me. He begged me to run away with him, the day before the wedding. I …” Amanda shrugged. “I couldn’t do that, of course. It would have been too cruel. I couldn’t have treated Sutton like that. Jem begged me to do it. I refused and married Sutton. It was …” Her eyes slid away from Serena and became dreamy. “Well, I’ll never forget going down the aisle of the church with Jem standing there beside Sutton—knowing that every step I took was like, well—like stepping on Jem’s heart. Do you remember my dress? White satin—I looked rather well, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Serena in a rather suffocated voice. “I remember.”
“Grandmother’s veil; that coronet effect was becoming, too.” Amanda’s voice and eyes were still dreamy and rather pleased. She sighed and linked her vigorous, long hands together on her knee. “It was very dramatic, really. Nobody knew about it, of course, except Jem and me. Oh, I may have told Leda. I’d had a terrific scene with Jem, really, the night before the wedding. I told him I had to go through with it. We said good-bye then. That was just after my bridesmaids’ dinner. I was wearing blue that night—pale blue …”
There was a silence. Amanda stared thoughtfully at the floor, smiling faintly. Finally Serena said: “And were you in love with Jem?” Her voice still had an odd, stifled sound. Amanda sighed again: “Oh, it was all very sad. Just like a play. We gave each other up forever.”
Serena got up. She moved across the room, lighted a cigarette, put it down, started to undress. It was rather curious, it struck her, that things which one would expect to be stunning blows sometimes work the other way, so that one discovers an unsuspected reserve of strength. But she believed Amanda, allowing for some of the romantic phrases. Besides, it fit her own recollection of Jem and the day of the wedding. That, of course, was why he’d thanked her, Serena, and kissed her. It had been a bad day for Jem and she had unconsciously, helped him to weather it.
It was all very clear. Too clear.
She said presently: “Didn’t you say that you and Jem said good-bye forever? He seems to be here now.”
“Oh,” Amanda’s eyes lost their dreamy look and became attentive.
“I wouldn’t worry about Bill Lanier. Did you bring the tablets?”
“The—oh, yes.”
The little bottle was in one of her hands. Jem took it, moved away from her hands and from her, and came to Serena. He looked at the bottle, read the label, shook out two small tablets, scrutinized them rather closely, it seemed to Serena, got a glass from the bathroom while Amanda just stood there watching him rather thoughtfully, and came back. “Take these,” he said to Serena.
She did so obediently. He said: “Now go to bed. Good night, my dear. Don’t worry, Amanda.”
He left then. “Are you going home …?” began Amanda, but the closing door cut off her inquiry. There was a short silence. “Well!” said Amanda then, and looked at Serena. The thoughtful look in her beautiful face deepened. Her dark eyes were unfathomable, yet fixed hard upon Serena, as if seeking and plumbing something in Serena’s own thoughts. If there were questions and speculations going on behind that dark gaze, her beautiful face with its lovely, high cheek bones and painted red mouth gave no indication of their course. She came, though, to the chaise longue and sat down where Jem had sat and said quickly and decisively: “Look here, Sissy. Don’t get any ideas about Jem.”
“Ideas?” said Serena after a moment.
“You know what I mean. I’d better tell you something. You remember my wedding?”
“Of course.”
“Well. If Jem had had his way I wouldn’t have married Sutton. Jem fell in love with me the first time he saw me. He begged me to run away with him, the day before the wedding. I …” Amanda shrugged. “I couldn’t do that, of course. It would have been too cruel. I couldn’t have treated Sutton like that. Jem begged me to do it. I refused and married Sutton. It was …” Her eyes slid away from Serena and became dreamy. “Well, I’ll never forget going down the aisle of the church with Jem standing there beside Sutton—knowing that every step I took was like, well—like stepping on Jem’s heart. Do you remember my dress? White satin—I looked rather well, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Serena in a rather suffocated voice. “I remember.”
“Grandmother’s veil; that coronet effect was becoming, too.” Amanda’s voice and eyes were still dreamy and rather pleased. She sighed and linked her vigorous, long hands together on her knee. “It was very dramatic, really. Nobody knew about it, of course, except Jem and me. Oh, I may have told Leda. I’d had a terrific scene with Jem, really, the night before the wedding. I told him I had to go through with it. We said good-bye then. That was just after my bridesmaids’ dinner. I was wearing blue that night—pale blue …”
There was a silence. Amanda stared thoughtfully at the floor, smiling faintly. Finally Serena said: “And were you in love with Jem?” Her voice still had an odd, stifled sound. Amanda sighed again: “Oh, it was all very sad. Just like a play. We gave each other up forever.”
Serena got up. She moved across the room, lighted a cigarette, put it down, started to undress. It was rather curious, it struck her, that things which one would expect to be stunning blows sometimes work the other way, so that one discovers an unsuspected reserve of strength. But she believed Amanda, allowing for some of the romantic phrases. Besides, it fit her own recollection of Jem and the day of the wedding. That, of course, was why he’d thanked her, Serena, and kissed her. It had been a bad day for Jem and she had unconsciously, helped him to weather it.
It was all very clear. Too clear.
She said presently: “Didn’t you say that you and Jem said good-bye forever? He seems to be here now.”
“Oh,” Amanda’s eyes lost their dreamy look and became attentive.
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