The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer: My Life at Rose Red by Ellen Rimbauer Page B
Authors: Ellen Rimbauer
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are
accounted for.”
“You’re making light of it.”
“I’m not.”
“At my expense.”
“Never. I assure you, it was not my intention.”
“Guests complain of getting lost and then two months later,
one does get lost. She disappears. Coincidence?”
“I hear it in your voice, dear. Do not trouble yourself over
this. I tell you, it is simply that we’ve been made to look bad by a
woman who chose us and our home for her ill-conceived plans.
The child . . . please . . . do not trouble yourself.”
“The child is ?ne.”
“Yes . . . but before . . .”
“Before I was made seriously ill either by our social calendar
or by exposure to an unfortunate malady.” I left it at that. I might
as well have taken out my bread knife and thrust it through him. I
know not why I raised this issue again, so long after we’d both laid
it to rest.
John cleaned his chin with his napkin and stood at his end of
86
the long table. He dismissed the servants. I felt the heat of dread
and regret. I had awakened the sleeping monster in him. His eyes
burned with disfavor for me. We had never discussed this directly.
“At the age of eighteen I joined the Army and remained
enlisted for six years. I took certain liberties that many young
men of that age take, and I bear the punishment for those liberties
even to-day. It is rarely with me, this curse, and I regret terribly
my misspent youth. I can only hope that you can ?nd it in
your heart to forgive me my past sins, my dear. But I will not have
my wife speaking to me in this manner. Not ever. And until you
are prepared to apologize, you shall not see me. Not for meals,
nor social engagements.”
Though I believed little of his explanation, I apologized to
him forthwith, before he could leave the room and make even
more of this by requiring me to chase him down. I explained that
my visitor’s disappearance had greatly upset me and that I had
misspoken just now. The police wandering the house did nothing
to make me feel at ease.
“Then I shall drive them out,” John said.
“No, dear.”
“Of course I shall. Whatever is necessary to your continued
good health!”
As I had ascertained back in Africa: the heir meant more to
John than anything in this life.
He stormed out of the Banquet Hall shouting commands at
servants, police and anyone who happened to be in his way. (The
house is busy with workers day in and day out as the construction
continues unabated. No one of society can quite believe that the
Rimbauer Mansion, as it’s also known outside these walls, is in a
constant and continuing state of construction.) Within ten minutes
or so, John had used his considerable presence, as well as his
keen sense of negotiation, to arrange for all but two police to
87
leave Rose Red. These two remained in the hunt for Mrs.
Fauxmanteur, though I must confess I had already given up hope.
(Not that I believed John’s explanation for even a minute! The
problem being that neither John nor I would likely understand
the other’s position—thus is the scourge of marriage, there are
those points that will never be resolved because opposite opinions
cannot resolve themselves; they can either be overlooked entirely
or tolerated, occasionally respected, though if true opposites,
even this middle ground is unlikely.)
I telephoned Tina Coleman to consult her on the disappearance
and embarrassed myself by breaking into tears in the middle
of our brief discussion. Tina advised me to consult a “seer” in
hopes of locating Mrs. Fauxmanteur in places that the police were
unlikely to ?nd her. This only served to further upset me, and I
ended the call as quickly as possible, somewhat concerned the
woman at the exchange may have been listening in, a practice that
is rampant these days. Our family was always well off, but John
Rimbauer can only be said to be wealthy, and as his bride I have
experienced ?rsthand the loss of privacy that
accounted for.”
“You’re making light of it.”
“I’m not.”
“At my expense.”
“Never. I assure you, it was not my intention.”
“Guests complain of getting lost and then two months later,
one does get lost. She disappears. Coincidence?”
“I hear it in your voice, dear. Do not trouble yourself over
this. I tell you, it is simply that we’ve been made to look bad by a
woman who chose us and our home for her ill-conceived plans.
The child . . . please . . . do not trouble yourself.”
“The child is ?ne.”
“Yes . . . but before . . .”
“Before I was made seriously ill either by our social calendar
or by exposure to an unfortunate malady.” I left it at that. I might
as well have taken out my bread knife and thrust it through him. I
know not why I raised this issue again, so long after we’d both laid
it to rest.
John cleaned his chin with his napkin and stood at his end of
86
the long table. He dismissed the servants. I felt the heat of dread
and regret. I had awakened the sleeping monster in him. His eyes
burned with disfavor for me. We had never discussed this directly.
“At the age of eighteen I joined the Army and remained
enlisted for six years. I took certain liberties that many young
men of that age take, and I bear the punishment for those liberties
even to-day. It is rarely with me, this curse, and I regret terribly
my misspent youth. I can only hope that you can ?nd it in
your heart to forgive me my past sins, my dear. But I will not have
my wife speaking to me in this manner. Not ever. And until you
are prepared to apologize, you shall not see me. Not for meals,
nor social engagements.”
Though I believed little of his explanation, I apologized to
him forthwith, before he could leave the room and make even
more of this by requiring me to chase him down. I explained that
my visitor’s disappearance had greatly upset me and that I had
misspoken just now. The police wandering the house did nothing
to make me feel at ease.
“Then I shall drive them out,” John said.
“No, dear.”
“Of course I shall. Whatever is necessary to your continued
good health!”
As I had ascertained back in Africa: the heir meant more to
John than anything in this life.
He stormed out of the Banquet Hall shouting commands at
servants, police and anyone who happened to be in his way. (The
house is busy with workers day in and day out as the construction
continues unabated. No one of society can quite believe that the
Rimbauer Mansion, as it’s also known outside these walls, is in a
constant and continuing state of construction.) Within ten minutes
or so, John had used his considerable presence, as well as his
keen sense of negotiation, to arrange for all but two police to
87
leave Rose Red. These two remained in the hunt for Mrs.
Fauxmanteur, though I must confess I had already given up hope.
(Not that I believed John’s explanation for even a minute! The
problem being that neither John nor I would likely understand
the other’s position—thus is the scourge of marriage, there are
those points that will never be resolved because opposite opinions
cannot resolve themselves; they can either be overlooked entirely
or tolerated, occasionally respected, though if true opposites,
even this middle ground is unlikely.)
I telephoned Tina Coleman to consult her on the disappearance
and embarrassed myself by breaking into tears in the middle
of our brief discussion. Tina advised me to consult a “seer” in
hopes of locating Mrs. Fauxmanteur in places that the police were
unlikely to ?nd her. This only served to further upset me, and I
ended the call as quickly as possible, somewhat concerned the
woman at the exchange may have been listening in, a practice that
is rampant these days. Our family was always well off, but John
Rimbauer can only be said to be wealthy, and as his bride I have
experienced ?rsthand the loss of privacy that
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