Chapter 30

That evening, Archer came downstairs before dinner. He found the drawing room empty.

He and May were dining alone. The family had stopped all social plans during Mrs. Mingott's illness. May was usually more exact about time than he was. So her empty chair surprised him.

He knew that she was home. While dressing, he heard her moving in her room. He began to wonder what delayed her.

Such small questions now helped him hold onto real life. He often filled his mind with little facts about the house. Then other thoughts could not carry him away. Perhaps Mr. Welland protected himself in the same way.

Maybe May's father once knew dreams and secret ways of escape. Perhaps he called up every small family duty against them. The idea made Archer understand him with new fear.

May finally entered. She looked tired and pale.

She wore a low dinner dress, pulled tight around her body. Even a private Mingott dinner required such formal clothes. Her fair hair rose in its usual shining coils. Yet her face looked almost without color.

She gave Archer her usual loving smile. Her eyes still held yesterday's clear blue light.

"What happened to you, dear?" she asked. "I waited at Granny's house."

"Ellen came alone. She said you left her on the way for some business. Nothing is wrong, is it?"

"I forgot some letters. I wanted to send them before dinner."

"Oh," May said. After a moment, she added, "I am sorry you missed Granny. Unless those letters truly could not wait."

"They could not," he answered. Her firm question surprised him. "Besides, why should I go there? I did not know you were waiting."

May crossed to the glass above the fireplace. One soft piece of hair had fallen loose. She raised her long arm and fixed it. Something in her movement seemed weak and heavy.

Could their empty, repeated life have tired her too? Then Archer remembered what happened that morning. May called down the stairs before he left.

She said they would meet at her grandmother's house. They could drive home together afterward. He called back a cheerful yes.

Then his dreams filled his mind, and he forgot. Now he felt guilty. Yet he was also angry over such a small forgotten promise.

They were married for almost two years. Still, May seemed to remember every little failure. Their life felt like one long, warm but lifeless first month of marriage.

It had all the duties of love, but none of its fire. May must have carried many private hurts. If she named them, he might answer them. Instead, her training taught her to hide them behind a brave smile.

Archer hid his anger with a question. "How is your grandmother?"

"She is still getting better," May said. "But the latest news about the Beauforts upset her."

"What news?"

"They plan to stay in New York. I hear Mr. Beaufort may enter the insurance business. Insurance pays people after certain kinds of loss. They are also looking for a small house."

The plan was so shocking to their world that neither discussed it. They went in to dinner.

Their talk moved around the same small circle as always. May never spoke about Ellen. She said nothing about Catherine's welcome either. Archer felt thankful, but her silence also troubled him.

After dinner, they went upstairs to the library for coffee. Archer lit a cigar and took down a history book by Michelet.

He now read history most evenings. If he chose poems, May asked him to read aloud. He did not hate reading to her. He hated knowing every comment she would make.

During their engagement, May repeated his ideas. He only understood this later. When he stopped giving her opinions, she tried her own. Her comments took all pleasure from the poems.

When May saw the history book, she brought her workbasket. She pulled a chair close to the green reading lamp. Then she uncovered a cushion for Archer's sofa.

She was adding a flower with needlework. Needlework was a picture made with colored thread and a needle. May was not skilled at it. Her strong hands belonged on a horse or in a boat.

Still, other wives made cushions for their husbands. May would not leave out this sign of love.

Archer only needed to lift his eyes to watch her. She bent over the cloth frame. Her loose sleeves fell back from her strong, round arms.

The deep blue stone from their engagement shone on her left hand. It rested above her wide gold wedding ring. Her right hand slowly drove the needle into the cloth.

The green lamp lit her smooth forehead. Archer looked at it with secret fear. He thought he would always know every thought behind that clear skin.

May would never surprise him with a new idea. She would show no sudden weakness or hidden cruelty. No strange feeling would ever break through. He believed he already knew all her future shapes.

She spent all her poetry during their short courtship. Now she no longer needed it. She was slowly becoming her mother. At the same time, she was turning him into her father.

Archer dropped his book and stood quickly. May looked up at once.

"What is the matter?"

"This room has no air. I need to breathe."

Archer chose the library curtains himself. They moved along a metal bar and could close at night. Most curtains in their house stayed fixed above many layers of lace.

He pulled the curtains back and raised the window. Cold night air struck his face. He leaned far out into the darkness.

For a few minutes, he did not have to see May. He saw other houses, roofs, and dark chimneys. Each house held lives outside his own.

Beyond them stood other cities. Beyond New York waited the whole wide world. That thought cleared his head. At last he could breathe.

Then May called from behind him. "Newland, please close the window. You will catch your death."

He shut it and turned. "Catch my death," he repeated.

Another answer rose inside him. He was already dead. He felt dead for many months.

Then the word opened a terrible new thought. What if May died? What if she died soon and left him free?

He stood in their warm, familiar library and looked at her. He wished for his wife's death. At first, the evil size of that wish did not stop him.

It pulled him with a strange power. His sick heart found a new chance and held it tightly. Young, healthy people sometimes died. May could die too.

She could die and suddenly set him free.

May looked up. Her eyes grew wide. Archer knew that his own face must look strange.

"Newland, are you ill?"

He shook his head and walked toward his chair. May bent over the cloth again. As he passed, he laid one hand on her hair.

"Poor May," he said.

"Poor? Why am I poor?" Her laugh sounded tight.

"Because I can never open a window without making you worry." He laughed too.

May said nothing for a moment. Then she spoke very softly, with her head still down. "I will never worry if you are happy."

"My dear, I can never be happy without open windows."

"In weather like this?" she asked.

Archer gave a tired breath and hid his face in Michelet.

Six or seven days passed. Archer heard nothing from Ellen. No family member spoke her name near him.

He made no effort to see her. She stayed beside old Catherine's guarded sickbed. A private meeting there would be almost impossible.

Archer let the uncertain days carry him. Under his daily thoughts lay the decision from the cold window. Its strength let him wait in silence.

Then May told him that Mrs. Manson Mingott wanted a visit. The request was not strange. The old lady grew stronger each day.

She always said that Archer was her favorite husband among her granddaughters. May delivered the message with clear pleasure. She was proud that Catherine valued him.

After a short pause, Archer spoke. "All right. Shall we go together this afternoon?"

May's face grew bright. But she answered at once. "You should go alone. Granny gets tired of seeing the same people too often."

Archer's heart beat hard when he rang Catherine's bell. More than anything, he wanted to come alone. He felt sure Ellen would meet him first.

The visit might offer a natural private moment. He decided not to force one. Now the chance seemed ready before him.

Ellen must be behind the door and the yellow sitting room curtains. In another moment, he would see her. He could speak before she led him upstairs.

He needed only one answer. When would she return to Washington? She could hardly refuse to give him a date.

But Ellen did not wait in the yellow room. Catherine's maid met him there. Her family was both Black and white. Her bright teeth looked like the white keys of a piano.

She pushed open the wide doors. Then she led him into old Catherine's room.

The old woman sat in a huge chair near her bed. It looked like a queen's chair. A dark wood table stood beside it.

A heavy metal lamp rested on the table. The lamp's round glass carried cut lines. A green paper cover softened its light.

No book or newspaper stood within Catherine's reach. There was no sewing or other women's work. Talk was Catherine's only true interest. She would never pretend otherwise.

Archer saw no clear mark from her recent stroke. She only looked paler. Dark shadows lay inside the deep folds of her great body.

A white cap covered her head. A hard bow tied it under her first two chins. A thin white scarf crossed her wide purple bed dress.

She looked like some clever and kind mother from an old family picture. That long-dead mother also seemed too fond of good dinners.

Catherine offered one tiny hand. It lay deep in her great lap like a small pet.

"Do not let anyone else come in," she told the maid. "If my daughters call, say that I am asleep."

The maid left. Catherine turned back to Archer.

"My dear, do I look perfectly ugly?" she asked happily. One hand searched for the white scarf across her distant chest. "My daughters say looks do not matter at my age. They matter more when you cannot hide them."

"My dear, you look better than ever," Archer answered.

Catherine threw back her head and laughed. "Ah, but not better than Ellen!" Her eyes shone with a cruel little joke.

Before he could answer, she continued. "Did she look so terribly beautiful when you drove from the ferry?"

Archer laughed.

"Did you tell her so? Is that why she made you leave on the way? Young men never left pretty women in my youth. Not unless the women made them go."

She gave another pleased laugh. Then her voice became almost cross.

"It is a pity that she did not marry you. I always told her that. It would have saved me all this trouble. But who thinks about saving a grandmother?"

Archer wondered whether her illness had confused her mind. Then Catherine suddenly gave him her news.

"It is settled. Ellen will stay with me, whatever the family says. She was here for five minutes, and I wanted to fall on my knees. I would have begged her to stay."

She looked down at herself. "Of course, I have not seen the floor for twenty years."

Archer listened without speaking.

"They talked me into their plan," Catherine continued. "You must know that. Lovell, Letterblair, Augusta Welland, and all the rest pushed me."

They wanted Catherine to stop Ellen's money. Without it, Ellen might accept her duty and return to Count Olenski. The Count's secretary brought one last offer.

"It was a good offer," Catherine admitted. "Marriage is useful, and so is money. I did not know how to answer them."

She stopped for a long breath. Talking now required more strength.

"Then I saw Ellen. I thought, you sweet bird! Could I shut you inside that cage again? Never."

Ellen would stay and care for Granny. She could remain as long as there was a Granny to need care. The life offered little fun, but Ellen did not mind.

Catherine also told Letterblair to restore Ellen's proper money.

Heat ran through Archer's blood. He could not tell whether the news brought joy or pain. He already chose a very different path. His mind could not change direction at once.

Then a sweet sense of delay came over him. New chances seemed to appear without any work from him. Ellen must see that she could not give him up.

She would not take the great step he asked for. Yet her choice to stay seemed like half an answer. He felt like a man ready to risk everything.

Now that man suddenly tasted safety. Its sweetness was dangerous.

"She could not go back," Archer said. "It was impossible."

"My dear, I always knew you stood with her. That is why I sent for you."

Catherine said May offered to join the visit. Catherine told her no. She wanted Newland alone and would share him with nobody.

"We still have a fight," Catherine said. "The family does not want Ellen here. They will blame my illness and call me a weak old woman."

They would say Ellen changed Catherine's mind. Catherine lacked the strength to fight each person alone. Archer must fight for her.

"I must?" he asked.

"You. Why not?"

Her round eyes became as sharp as small knives. One little hand flew from the chair. Her pale nails closed around his hand like a bird's claws.

"Why not?" she asked again. Her look searched his face.

Archer gained control of himself. "I do not matter enough."

"You are Letterblair's business partner, are you not? Reach the family through him. Unless you have some reason not to help."

"My dear, you can beat all of them without me. But you will have my help if you need it."

"Then we are safe." Catherine rested her head among the cushions. Her old, clever smile returned.

"I knew you would support us. They never use your name when they talk about Ellen's duty to return."

Her sharp understanding hurt him. He wanted to ask whether they used May's name. Instead, he chose a safer question.

"What about Madame Olenska? When can I see her?"

Catherine half closed her eyes and gave a playful laugh. "Not today. One visitor at a time, please. Madame Olenska has gone out."

Disappointment heated Archer's face.

"She took my carriage to visit Regina Beaufort," Catherine said. She paused and watched the news strike him.

"Look what Ellen has made me do. The day after she arrived, she put on her best hat. Then she calmly announced her visit to Regina."

Catherine said she did not know the woman.

"Ellen answered, 'She is your grandniece, a sister's or brother's granddaughter. She is also very unhappy.'"

"I said, 'She is the wife of a bad man.'"

"Then Ellen said, 'So am I. Yet my whole family wants me to return to him.'"

That answer defeated Catherine, so she let Ellen go. A few days later, Ellen said rain made walking impossible. She asked to borrow Catherine's carriage.

"I asked why. She said, 'I want to visit cousin Regina.' Cousin!"

Catherine looked outside. Not one drop of rain was falling. But she understood Ellen's kind lie and lent her the carriage.

"Regina is a brave woman," Catherine said. "Ellen is brave too. I have always loved courage more than anything."

Archer bent down and kissed the small hand on his own.

"Eh, young man," Catherine cried. "Whose hand did you think you kissed? Your wife's hand, I hope."

Her dry, joking laugh followed him as he stood. She called one last order after him.

"Give Ellen her Granny's love. But you should say nothing about our talk."