more than a curt nod and never reported back with a word of gratitude from anyone to whom she had forwarded it, Audrey had to take it on faith that her generosity did not go for naught. Surely it was preferable to do this than to deal with one of those charitable organizations in the city that were always being investigated for something to do with either corrupt finances or perverted sex.
In an odd emotional state owing to the cupping of her breast by Chuck Burgoyneâin retrospect she could not believe it happened in quite the way it seemed at the timeâshe went to her rooms to see whether she might augment the collection of Finch-bound garments with several other items from the extensive summer wardrobe with which she stocked her closets: this included a selection of evening gowns, though for at least ten years there had been no island occasion for which such a garment would have been appropriate costume; and equestrian attire, jodhpurs, even a riding mac for rainy days, though no one she knew kept horses locally in this era. She had ridden well as a girl and was reasonably good at archery. But at golf she was hopeless, never really learned to serve at tennis, swam poorly. Her breasts had been well shaped and in fact remained so, largely as a result of fanatical determination. She believed her eyes were too small and pale of iris, but her skin had always been a great strength. At quite an early age her thighs had thickened, obviously a matter of genes, for no diet or exercise subsequently affected them, and she had since never been seen in shorts or bathing dress.
The closet complex included a vertical stack of built-in drawers, a number of which, cedar-lined, were filled with sweaters to be worn on chilly island evenings, which were not unknown during the season, but even Audrey in a reflective mood had to admit they were not so frequent as to require more than a dozen sweaters in just two styles, V-necked and cardigan, and only three colors, white, beige, and navy, but she must have owned twenty-odd, all knitted of cashmere, with the exception of a few routine woolen examples of her own purchase. All of the former had been presents from Doug on the giftgiving holidays, in addition to which he often presented her with a brooch made in the form of a miniature animal with eyes of diamond chips or another gem. Within three years he was capable of repeating himself, and thus she owned two identical little rabbits and also a matching pair of ruby-eyed frogs. On discreetly (though not accidentally) finding that Doug owed his favorite jeweler, the same who had served his family for generations, for too many such gifts, Audrey quietly paid the bill insofar as it pertained to what she had received, naturally letting ride the charges for what he had presented to a succession of his bitches, items which she was amazed, and pleased, to note were usually less valuable than those he gave her.
It had occurred to her that it might be nice to turn over to Mrs. Finch some of her excess of similar sweaters. The housekeeper was far too rawboned to fit into any of them, but presumably there were those who would do amongst the female kin to whom the other garments had gone, over the years. The difference was that the cashmere sweaters were not outmoded in style, hitherto the criterion for disposal. Thus the giving of them would be authentically generous, a true instance of charity in the classic sense of the word. Audrey had finally arrived at an age for performing an act that was uncompromisingly virtuous.
But the moment had come too late. Of the former collection of sweaters, as the all but empty drawers now informed her, only the humble woolen examples were still in her possession. Like moths, who after all are merely practicing their métier, the thief or thieves could discriminate amongst yarns. The obvious culprits would have been the cleaning team, who had been to the house on Friday and would come again on Monday morning,
In an odd emotional state owing to the cupping of her breast by Chuck Burgoyneâin retrospect she could not believe it happened in quite the way it seemed at the timeâshe went to her rooms to see whether she might augment the collection of Finch-bound garments with several other items from the extensive summer wardrobe with which she stocked her closets: this included a selection of evening gowns, though for at least ten years there had been no island occasion for which such a garment would have been appropriate costume; and equestrian attire, jodhpurs, even a riding mac for rainy days, though no one she knew kept horses locally in this era. She had ridden well as a girl and was reasonably good at archery. But at golf she was hopeless, never really learned to serve at tennis, swam poorly. Her breasts had been well shaped and in fact remained so, largely as a result of fanatical determination. She believed her eyes were too small and pale of iris, but her skin had always been a great strength. At quite an early age her thighs had thickened, obviously a matter of genes, for no diet or exercise subsequently affected them, and she had since never been seen in shorts or bathing dress.
The closet complex included a vertical stack of built-in drawers, a number of which, cedar-lined, were filled with sweaters to be worn on chilly island evenings, which were not unknown during the season, but even Audrey in a reflective mood had to admit they were not so frequent as to require more than a dozen sweaters in just two styles, V-necked and cardigan, and only three colors, white, beige, and navy, but she must have owned twenty-odd, all knitted of cashmere, with the exception of a few routine woolen examples of her own purchase. All of the former had been presents from Doug on the giftgiving holidays, in addition to which he often presented her with a brooch made in the form of a miniature animal with eyes of diamond chips or another gem. Within three years he was capable of repeating himself, and thus she owned two identical little rabbits and also a matching pair of ruby-eyed frogs. On discreetly (though not accidentally) finding that Doug owed his favorite jeweler, the same who had served his family for generations, for too many such gifts, Audrey quietly paid the bill insofar as it pertained to what she had received, naturally letting ride the charges for what he had presented to a succession of his bitches, items which she was amazed, and pleased, to note were usually less valuable than those he gave her.
It had occurred to her that it might be nice to turn over to Mrs. Finch some of her excess of similar sweaters. The housekeeper was far too rawboned to fit into any of them, but presumably there were those who would do amongst the female kin to whom the other garments had gone, over the years. The difference was that the cashmere sweaters were not outmoded in style, hitherto the criterion for disposal. Thus the giving of them would be authentically generous, a true instance of charity in the classic sense of the word. Audrey had finally arrived at an age for performing an act that was uncompromisingly virtuous.
But the moment had come too late. Of the former collection of sweaters, as the all but empty drawers now informed her, only the humble woolen examples were still in her possession. Like moths, who after all are merely practicing their métier, the thief or thieves could discriminate amongst yarns. The obvious culprits would have been the cleaning team, who had been to the house on Friday and would come again on Monday morning,
Similar Books
