The Dark Lady Page 23

  5

  The first thing that Elesina did when she arrived in her office on the morning after her speech to the Legion was telephone Sam Gorman at Tone and instruct him to send Giles Bennett out to Broadlawns for the rest of her campaign.

  "We've cost him the favor of the great Julius," she explained, "and I want the poor boy to know that he won't be the loser."

  "But he doesn't know anything about politics!"

  "He can learn. Besides, that's not what I really need him for. I want a buffer between me and Ivy. I've taken her off the campaign, and things are going to be rough for a while."

  "You've what? Oh, my God, Elesina! If Ivy gets the idea that Giles is going to replace her, she'll murder the child. She will!"

  "I can take care of that."

  "Remember! Ivy can be a fiend."

  "Oh, shut up, Sam. You're just peeved because you know you'll have to write Giles's column. Now do as I say."

  "Working for women, what a life!"

  Giles, seemingly unsurprised by his promotion, came out to Rye that very afternoon and fitted himself almost at once into the Broadlawns family. In a couple of days he was on first names with everybody. Elesina, in turning the estate into an arts center, of which she was president, had retained title to the mansion in which she lived and kept her offices. The big rooms on the main floor were opened on certain days to the public, but the second story, where Elesina and Ivy had separate apartments, was always private. Ivy managed the staff and grounds; Elesina directed the artistic events. Giles established himself as the friend of both.

  "Poor Ivy is absolutely shattered over the Julius episode," he told Elesina. "Can't you give her a second chance?"

  "Is she using you as her advocate now?"

  "Well, why not? You mustn't be hard, Elesina. Great politicians should have great hearts."

  "Great politicians must also know when they're badly served. Keep out of it, Giles."

  She was sure that Julius would know that Giles was at Broadlawns, and it amused her to imagine the intensity of his discomfort. It would never occur to Julius that she did not intend to make nefarious use of his relationship with a young man, now in her camp, of easily impugnable morals, and she was perfectly content to let him suppose so. After all, he deserved it. But what pleased her most about the presence of Giles at Broadlawns, even more than its effect on Julius, was the way that he filled the hole which her breach with Ivy had made. Giles was the perfect assistant, at least in her lighter tasks. He seemed to have no moods; he was always cheerful. If he knew little about politics, he knew everything about how to project her. Soon she was reciting her speeches to him in the library.

  "Look, dear," he would coach her, with the intimacy of a stage director, "you must never show your audience that you expect applause or laughter. Keep on going, and then, when it comes, look up with that little-girly expression of surprise that you do so well."

  The fact that Giles had little or no feelings about the McCarthy issue was a balancing factor in the hectic days that followed. Letters poured into Broadlawns, abrasive, critical, threatening, praising, ecstatic, and the telephone rang without cease. Elesina varied between moods of exhilaration and moods when she felt frightened. It was a relief to let Giles read the mail and hear his little squeals of laughter at the most violent diatribes. To him it was box office, pure and simple, and Elesina was putting on a terrific show.

  "Listen to this," he would exclaim. "Here's a man who thinks Broadlawns is a center for Russian propaganda. He lists five pieces by Russian composers played last summer!"

  When she thought she was a heroine, Giles was there to remind her that it was all a play; when she thought she was in danger from the apes who wrote the letters, Giles was there to turn it all into a joke. And he was willing to lend a hand in anything, high or low, from writing a speech to filling in as a guide on days when the mansion was open to the public. He had his meals with Elesina in the big dining room, and sometimes, late at night, she would sit up with him alone in the library. She told him almost the whole story of her life. He told her nothing of his, but he was too young, presumably, to have much to tell.

  "Don't bother about my past, Elesina," he told her. "Let's say that my life began the day I came to Broadlawns."

  "Why on earth do you like it so?"

  "Because it isn't real! AH these flowers and statues and paintings, all this beauty and luxury. And presided over by a fairy queen! I don't want to go back to Tone now. I want to stay here forever and ever."

  "Well, you're certainly welcome, dear boy. You've made a place for yourself here already. I begin to wonder how we ever got on without you."

  Giles was thoroughly discreet about his sex life, if indeed he had any. So far as Elesina could make out, nothing untoward occurred on the premises; presumably he took care of such matters on his weekly visits to the city. She liked the fact that he never mentioned the subject because it allowed her to fantasize that his demonstrative affection for herself was total, like a faithful dog's. Indeed, in lonely moments she caught herself treating him as a pet, chucking him under the chin and rumpling his hair.

  One day, when she did this in the presence of her mother, Linda sharply reproved her.

  "He's not a lap dog, Elesina!"

  Elesina flushed and moved away from the unembarrassed Giles. But when she had recovered from the slight shock, she took a high tone. "Indeed he's not," she retorted coolly. "But he's the dearest of dear friends. Aren't you, Giles?"

  "Yours in the ranks of death!"

  Was it true? Was this the friend she had always wanted? But was that any stranger than finding herself on the threshold of Congress? When had her life been logical?

  One morning, when she was working alone in the library, the receptionist telephoned to say that a Professor Eliot Clarkson wished to see her. A moment later he walked in, very tense, and ignored her friendly greeting. "I've been abroad," he explained abruptly. "Which is why I've only just heard about your speech to the veterans. I came right out here. Would you like a public statement that this is the first time we've met?"

  "Sit down, Mr. Clarkson. I'm so happy you're here. Let's make a public statement that at last we've met!"

  Eliot seemed taken aback. "You're very kind."

  "Kind? But you were David's friend! Did you think I would deny you?"

  He rubbed his temples anxiously now with the fingers of both hands. Then he sat down. "I thought you might have taken exception to my book."

  "Why? It was David who said the harsh things. He had great fun imagining how I would behave if the Nazis won. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I would have been that way."

  Eliot shook his head emphatically. "No, you've proved your guts. David would have been proud of you if he'd heard that speech."

  "He'd have found something else to object to soon enough. I could never have been the woman David imagined I was. He was too much of an idealist. He was always looking for beautiful damsels to rescue from dragons. He never found the damsel, but he did find the dragon. Perhaps in the long run that was just as good."

  "I'm beginning to wonder if he didn't find the damsel as well."

  "That's very charming of you, Mr. Clarkson. But if he did, he never knew it. He was bitter to the end."

  "Yes, but he didn't see you as I do. Now."

  "Do you see me? We've only just met. I'm the kind of person who continually looks as if she were going to be somebody's damsel. People are always putting their faith in me. And being disappointed."

  "Not your constituents, I'm sure."

  "Well, maybe not them. Maybe that's just the point. That I can fool them!" Elesina suddenly laughed. "By being what they expect! Anyway, I can try. For I have a bit of David's idealism in me, too. Just a bit, mind you. There are times when I, too, want a dragon. A small one anyway."

  "Like Julius Schell?"

  "Oh, he'll do. For those of us who weren't lucky enough to find a Hitler!"

  "You'll gobble Schell up!"

&nb
sp; But Eliot's expression changed now as his eyes took in something behind her. When he smiled, it was not an agreeable smile.

  "Hello, Giles. Are you in politics now?"

  Giles had appeared from the librarian's office with a handful of papers. As always, he seemed perfectly unsurprised.

  "Hello, Eliot. You're looking very well. No, I'm not really in politics. I just help Elesina in any way I can. I guess that's what we all end up doing, isn't it?"

  "Not I, thank you."

  Here it was again, Elesina reflected with dry amusement. Clarkson had not been in the room two minutes, and he was repudiating her already! She smiled with deliberate artificiality.

  "Why, Professor Clarkson, how ungallant of you! Now that you've been thrown into the issue, why not join me?"

  "Because, my dear Mrs. Stein, if I have moved somewhat to the right of my former position, I am still many light-years away from even a liberal Republican. But in the McCarthy matter I will help you any way I can. The best way, no doubt, is for me to remove myself entirely." He turned now to go. "Giles will know where to reach me if there is anything I can sign."

  "But surely we can meet sometime?"

  "Oh, Eliot, say yes! You'll adore Elesina."

  Eliot glanced coolly from Elesina to his former friend. "I assume you knew of my relationship with Giles?"

  Elesina nodded, still smiling. "Ivy Trask took care of that. What does it matter?"

  "It doesn't, of course," Eliot shrugged. "But let me depart on a Shakespearean note. The Steins always went out on that. We're in Twelfth Night. Only Olivia prevails over the Duke!"

  Giles turned a bland countenance to Elesina. "Isn't he horrid?" he asked calmly. When he turned back, Eliot was gone.

  6

  Elesina won the nomination by a very small margin and the election by a larger one. The district was prevailingly Republican, and the Democratic candidate a political hack drafted to fight a losing battle that no abler party leader cared to take on. The only real issue had been that raised by Julius Schell about Elesina's supposed communist connections. What had brought her to national attention was not the accusation of this, which was easily rebutted, but her refusal to limit her denial to the simple fact that she had not known Eliot Clarkson. Instead, she had chosen to attack the whole McCarthy technique of character assassination. Her beauty and eloquence had created a sensation wherever she had spoken. People hissed and people applauded, but it did not make much difference which. They listened, that was the point; she was always stage center. She was at last a star. The tall dark-haired lady with the challenging eyes and the uplifted arm made the cover of Life.

  The week after the election, when Elesina had gone with her mother for a few days' needed vacation to Hobe Sound, Ivy received a visit from Ruth at Broadlawns. Elesina's daughter, now Mrs. Robert Pix, was like a piece of expensive pink stationery on which an obscene note had been written; those round fat cheeks and pale blue eyes had been made for cheer and not complaint. Her business with Ivy, as always, was financial. Elesina was perfectly willing to help her daughter whenever necessary, but not to listen to her lamentations. Ivy had brought Ruth quickly to the point with a promise of needed assistance, and now they had a moment to chat.

  "What do you think of your mother's success?"

  "What can I think? Triumph after triumph! She's way beyond us now." Ruth gave a little wave of her hand to indicate the sweep of Elesina's arc and at the same time slightly to denigrate it.

  "And the victory is not just here below. I seem to hear the chorus of the angels on high in solemn 'Te Deum.'"

  Ruth smiled sourly. "You're always so sarcastic, Ivy. Do you admire nothing?"

  "I echo your thoughts, honey. But, seriously, there's no stopping your mother now. Her timing is perfect. Politics is like surf bathing. You have only to watch the breakers. I had an uncle who used to tell me a warning story. He said that in the eighteen nineties every observing man could see that the future belonged to the automobile. So he bought shares in all the companies that were making them—there were seventeen, I believe. And do you know what? He lost his shirt! Because the big boys rode in on the second wave and knocked out the beginners."

  "I take it you believe that we're in the second wave of anti-McCarthyism."

  "Elesina has just proved it! Oh, it will take a while yet, but the signs are sure. People are getting tired of being ranted at. Your mother knows just how to hop about in that turbulent water, waving her lovely arms and giving an occasional shriek and knowing all the while she's as safe as a rubber ball."

  Ruth's steady gaze intimated that even she did not want to annihilate the maternal image. "Are you saying that nobody's been really hurt by McCarthy?"

  "No, dear, of course not. All those poor actors and radio people who had no savings and got blacklisted—they were ruined, I know. But people like Elesina have nothing to lose. The only trick is to get your licks in before the world knows it's a paper dragon. And, oh, the bliss of it, Ruth!" Ivy jumped to her feet and raised an arm in a brutal parody of Elesina's dramatic gesture. "Think of it! To stand before the howling crowd, a beautiful martyr, and receive only a little spray of slander on the cheek! And to know that that spray will soon turn to incense! Oh, if Joe McCarthy had never lived..."

  "Mummie would have invented him, I suppose," Ruth finished for her dryly. "I think you go too far, Ivy. Do you have to hate being good to be good?"

  Ivy looked at her bitterly. "She'll bring you over to her side easily enough. If she ever has five minutes to spare for it."

  "Mummie's side? What makes you think I'm not on Mummie's side? Just because I criticize her..."

  "Oh, skip it, skip it."

  "Ivy, you're in such a funny mood! This ought to be your finest hour. Why should you be so jaundiced?"

  "Because it's not my finest hour, even though it should be. I missed the boat, Ruth. I didn't think the time had come to attack McCarthy."

  "What does that matter? So long as Mummie did?"

  "Because she did it against my advice!" Ivy exclaimed fiercely. "She proved me wrong. Worse than that, she proved me useless!"

  "Anyone can make a mistake."

  "Not me. And it's more than that. Your mother has outgrown me. She doesn't want me around—to remind her."

  "You don't mean she's dropping you?"

  "I mean I'm not going to Washington." Ivy gave a little groan as the full effect of her own words struck her. She buried her face suddenly in her hands. "I'm to stay here and manage Broadlawns."

  Even Ruth was capable, for once, of taking in a sorrow that was not her own. "Oh, Ivy," she murmured. "That is bitchy."

  "No, no, Elesina is right. Elesina is my pupil, my star. I wouldn't want her to behave any differently. She's outgrown me, and she knows it. And I know it! She wouldn't be my pupil if she didn't keep growing. So let her keep on." Ivy slumped back in her chair. "Besides, she has Giles."

  "Giles?"

  "Giles Bennett. She's using him more and more. On her campaign, at Broadlawns. She's taken him off Tone altogether. He's perfect for her."

  "But, Ivy, isn't he just a silly little pansy?"

  "He's not a bit silly. And he learns fast. He's what your mother's always wanted."

  "You mean as an assistant?"

  "I mean as a lover!" Ivy cried brutally. "Oh, Ruth, you're such an ass. I'm sorry to say it, but you are. You put people in drawers. Young men like Giles are perfectly capable of making love to older women. He sees Elesina as the mother he's always wanted, and she pets him like a kitten, and they get cozier and cozier, and the first thing you know they're in the sack together, having really quite a lovely time!"

  "Ivy!" Ruth's eyes shivered with disgust. "How can you? Mummie must be thirty years older than Giles!"

  "Oh, go home, Ruth. You've never understood your mother. I tell you, she doesn't want a man. She wants a poodle! And she's got one. They're perfect for each other!"

  "I think I will go home. And I assure you, I don't believe a wo
rd you've said!"

  When Ruth had gone, Ivy sat for a long time without moving. She thought of the old family place in Auburn and of all the uncles and aunts. She thought of Washington and of Edouardo. She thought of the years with Tone. One had to judge life by the hand one was dealt; hers had had no quick tricks. What she had done she had done with nerve and grit, with spit and sealing wax. If in the end there was nobody to applaud but Ivy Trask, who else could there have been?

  Nothing had to be put in order, for everything was in order. The photographs of her parents, looking absurdly young, she took from the desk and placed in a drawer. Then she straightened the objects on her blotter, placing the paper cutter which she had never used exactly parallel to the scissors which she had never used.

  "Tell Alfred to be ready to take me to the station," she telephoned her secretary. "I'm going into New York."

  "Can't he drive you in, Miss Trask?"

  Ivy paused. Ordinarily she did not take the Broadlawns cars so far from their base. "Well, why not?"

  Passing into the patio she paused to watch the visitors coming in and out of the rooms opened to the public. She noticed, standing before the marble bust of David Stein, an elderly woman of ample frame, evidently in the deepest meditation. The stillness of her erect, darkly garbed figure isolated her from the nervous females who poked about the patio making estimates of the costs of things. It was Clara Stein. Ivy went up to her. Clara's features had lost none of their high serenity.

  "Are we still enemies, Clara?"

  "I was hoping not to see you. But of course I knew I might. And I knew if I did, you'd ask me that. So I have my answer ready. Somebody asked Talleyrand the same question about himself and Lafayette. 'After seventy there are no enemies,' he replied, 'only survivors.'"

  "Yes, we've survived a lot," Ivy said grimly.

  "I came to see the bust of David."

  "Do you like it?"

  "Very much."