Remembering the Titanic Part 8

But ... "It would never work." Elizabeth sagged against the stone wall lining the steps. "I just remembered, my mother makes a toast at the holiday party, about halfway through the evening. To the new year. Then my father made one. With him gone, she'll expect me to do it. She'll be looking for me. She'll get upset when she doesn't find me, and if she gets upset..."

"You think she'll have another attack." Max fell silent for a moment, then said heavily, "So does that mean you're not coming to my unveiling?"

Elizabeth hesitated. Max had been the only bright spot in her life during all these boring, dutiful months since Nola's collapse. If it hadn't been for him.... "I'll try, Max, I promise I will. I want to be there. Maybe I can slip out right after the toast."

That seemed to be enough for him. His good night kiss was warm and sweet and if Elizabeth stayed in his arms much longer than was proper, it was because she knew that once she went inside, the warmth would leave her. And it wouldn't come back until she was with him again.

Chapter 15.

PREPARATIONS FOR NOLA'S CHRISTMAS party began in earnest. While the menus and shopping fell to Cook, the cleaning and polis.h.i.+ng to Esther, Elizabeth's mother took charge of everything else. There were festive holiday gowns to purchase or, if nothing appealing was found in the endless supply of Manhattan shops, to be made. The gowns were most important. Then came decorations, including the tallest, fullest tree, the fattest wreath and garlands, to adorn the Murray Hill house. And there must be entertainment for the guests. Nola had heard of a young Irish girl with a sweet voice. A friend had employed her for his wife's birthday celebration and had recommended her highly. "She sings Irish ballads, none of the vulgar songs coming out of Tin Pan Alley these days. Lovely-looking girl, too. Kathleen something. Her agent is Pauly Chambers, but it's the wife, Florence, who manages the girl. Common sort of woman, Mrs. Chambers, but not too difficult to deal with. Underpricing the girl, if you ask me." He had given Nola the agent's number. "But call soon. Miss Hanrahan has become quite popular. She'll be booked steadily over the holidays."

Nola had called the following morning and secured Kathleen Hanrahan's services. At a pretty price, she'd thought, but if the girl was popular... "Nothing good comes cheaply," Martin had been fond of saying. So true.

Elizabeth watched her mother busily preparing for the festivities with a mixture of awe and fear. How efficient Nola was! When the mood struck her. Addressing invitations, making endless telephone calls, conferring with the staff about thousands of details and always, always, finding time to shop. Elizabeth decided that a list of shops Nola had not yet graced with her presence would be very short indeed.

"You're doing too much, Mother," she said after a particularly trying Wednesday in December. They had spent hours traipsing about town in a nasty mix of rain and sleet, shopping for just the right antimaca.s.sars for the parlor chairs. If the arms and backs of the parlor chairs, Nola said emphatically, were not covered with the lace doilies during the party, heaven only knew what shape they might be in afterward. The problem was, she was determined to find the lace upholstery covers in "a nice, Christma.s.sy green." Even when there appeared to be none in any color other than white or ecru in all of Manhattan, she continued doggedly searching. Elizabeth finally cried out in exasperation, "Mother, we're wet and we're tired and I'm freezing and what does it matter what color they are? Who will care?"

"I will!" But Nola finally gave in, dragging Elizabeth back to the very first store they'd visited to buy an even dozen of the white doilies.

Elizabeth was very annoyed. They could have saved themselves hours of misery ... oh, what was the use? When they finally arrived home, wet and chilled to the bone, Elizabeth asked, "Mother, does Dr. Cooper know how you're wearing yourself out for this party? I'm sure he wouldn't approve."

Nola patted the last lace doily into place on a white armchair and stood back to admire the effect. "Don't be silly, Elizabeth. I'm not exhausted. I feel better than I have since ... in a long time. I'm having such fun getting ready for this party."

Elizabeth realized her mother had almost said, "Since your father died" or "since that night." And it was true, she did seem more excited than she had in a long while. Happier. Like a young girl preparing for her first real dance.

Still... "You have to be careful, Mother. You mustn't overdo. You really must let the servants take on more. And me. I can do more." What was the point in giving up Va.s.sar, giving up her future, her life, if her mother was going to do everything herself?

"Of course you can, darling. Why don't you run along and ask Cook to bring us some lovely hot chocolate? And a few of those gingersnaps she baked this afternoon? That will warm us up. You're s.h.i.+vering again, Elizabeth. In spite of the lovely fire Joseph has made for us."

"Is it any wonder I'm s.h.i.+vering? It's cold outside, and wet, and we were out there for hours." Elizabeth hated being told to "run along." It made her feel like a two-year-old. "We shouldn't have been out in such nasty weather. If you catch cold, Dr. Cooper will blame me. He'll say I'm not taking very good care of you. He'll say we should hire a nurse, who would do a better job of it."

Apparently remembering then exactly why Elizabeth had declined admission to Va.s.sar, Nola did an about-face. She sank into a chair beside the fireplace, put her feet up on the ottoman, and said a bit breathlessly, "You're right, dear. I believe I may have overdone it just a bit today. I wonder if you might fetch me an aspirin or two?"

As Elizabeth left to fetch the aspirin, her mother called after her, "When we've had our little snack, we'll put our heads together and decide what you can do to help me. I'm sure there are many things. I don't know what I'd do without my darling daughter."

How quickly she lost her amazing energy, Elizabeth thought dryly. The minute I said we might need to hire a nurse. Which would, of course, leave me free to do as I pleased. Small wonder Mother suddenly took to a chair.

Too late now, anyway. The first semester was nearly over and it was much too late to apply for the second.

Not that she would leave her mother in the hands of a stranger, even a registered nurse. That was not what her father had had in mind when he said, "Take care of your mother."

Elizabeth sighed heavily as she went into her mother's bedroom and moved to the night-stand. A husband for Nola was still the only answer. But as long as her mother's standards were impossibly high, there was almost no chance of a wedding in the near future. By the time she finds someone who suits her, Elizabeth thought bitterly as she removed two aspirin from the small tin she found in the nightstand drawer, I'll be far too old for college. I'll need a cane just to get around campus.

Nola did enlist Elizabeth's help with the party plans, managing to do this without giving up one ounce of control. Much of the work Elizabeth was a.s.signed came, she decided, under the heading, Simple idiotic tasks designed to make my daughter feel useful. Any of the servants could have polished the silver, arranged the flowers, sorted the RSVP's, fluffed the throw pillows, tipped the endless line of delivery men who came in a steady stream to the back door every day during the final week before the party.

Trivial tasks or not, Elizabeth was glad to be busy. It almost kept her from thinking of how the new year held so little promise for her. She didn't want to think about that. It would ruin the holidays.

"I should have bought the sapphire blue," Nola said on the night of the party. They still had two hours before the first guests arrived, but she was not one to leave the all-important grooming for the last moments. She was so organized, all that had to be done in the house had been done, leaving only last-minute preparation, which the servants would see to. Now, twirling in front of the full-length mirror in her room, she complained to Elizabeth, "This green makes me look sallow. Why did you let me buy it?"

Elizabeth, reclining on her mother's bed in her robe, her hair wrapped in white cotton rags, laughed. "Let you? Mother, if you recall, I did my best to sway you toward the blue. You said green velvet was more in keeping with the season and since you hadn't found the green doilies you wanted, your dress would provide a touch of holiday color."

Nola grimaced into the mirror. "Well, you should have persisted. I look positively sickly."

"You look stunning, and you know it." Elizabeth sat up on the bed. "You are feeling well, aren't you?" She was still hoping to slip away after the toast and run off to Max's. But if her mother wasn't well .... All of this excitement couldn't be good for her heart.

"I feel fine. It's this dress that makes me look ill."

"Mother, you do not look ill. Excitement has turned your cheeks quite pink. It's very becoming. In fact, you look amazingly healthy." As Max had pointed out, more than once.

"I am amazingly healthy." Nola twirled once more, like a child trying on her first party dress. This time she looked a bit more satisfied with her appearance. "I believe I might even dance tonight, if I can find a partner who is the tiniest bit interesting."

"Dance? Mother, are you sure? Has Dr. Cooper said you might?"

"Darling, I'm not going to hop about the room doing that disgusting turkey trot. So vulgar. But I was thinking, a nice, slow waltz might be lovely."

"You really should check with the doctor first. Is he coming tonight?"

Nola looked shocked. "My physician? Heavens, dear, one doesn't invite one's physician to one's parties."

Elizabeth hated the way her mother used the word "one." It sounded terribly artificial. "Sorry, Mother. I can't think what got into me. Perhaps my sanity has been affected by so many hours of shopping." She got up from the bed to depart for her own room.

Nola was not amused by her daughter's tone of voice. "Wear the white," she ordered before Elizabeth closed the door. "We mustn't clash when we toast our guests, and green goes well with absolutely nothing but white."

"I could wear red," Elizabeth teased. "After all, red and green are great holiday colors. Everyone would be so impressed with how far we were willing to go to decorate for the holidays." She closed the door on Nola's comment, "I shudder to think how garish that would be."

Laughing softly, Elizabeth went to her room to dress.

She wore the white.

But at the last second, in a small gesture of defiance, she wound a deep-red velvet ribbon around her throat, fastening her grandmother's gold cameo pin in the center. Why should Nola be the only Farr woman boasting holiday color?

If Nola was annoyed by the ribbon, she kept it to herself. Guests were already arriving when Elizabeth came down the wide, circular staircase into the foyer. Nola seemed so relieved to see the white gown, a red ribbon probably seemed inconsequential in comparison to an entire garment of red, which, as anyone with taste knew, only women of ill repute wore.

To Elizabeth, the party was only a stepping-stone to Max's apartment, his unveiling, and his party. She couldn't wait. When her mother's guests told her she looked "lovely," she thanked them and thought, Perhaps Max will agree. As waiters her mother had hired pa.s.sed her with trays of canapes, she took one and thought, I wonder if Max will be serving food. When the orchestra began playing holiday music, she wondered if Max would persuade Bledsoe to play his guitar, as she'd been told he sometimes did at get-togethers. She'd also been told he played poorly, but at a party, who cared? And when she walked into the ballroom, nearly every square inch of its walls and ceiling draped with garlands, the huge, festooned tree looming over the festivities, she wondered if Max had had time to buy a tree. She had been missing him so ... hadn't seen him since the night he'd told her about the unveiling, though they had spoken on the telephone every night.

Tonight ... tonight she would see him. After the toasting was finished, she would slip away from this lavish party and go to a simpler one, the one she really wanted to attend.

But while she was at this one, she intended to keep a close watch on her mother. There would be no turkey-trotting in the Farr home, that much was certain. But with a heart condition, perhaps even a waltz could prove dangerous. And her mother had been doing far too much recently.

If only Dr. Cooper had been invited, she could take him aside and ask his advice. He could also be of a.s.sistance in keeping Nola calm. She was definitely in a party mood. Stunning in the deep green (which Elizabeth noticed matched almost perfectly the color of the enormous tree at the front of the room, behind the orchestra), she flitted from guest to guest, laughing, making conversation, urging all to eat, drink, and have a marvelous time.

Why, she's actually flirting, Elizabeth realized, shocked, as her mother smiled up at a tall, handsome man, who in response, bent to kiss Nola's hand. Elizabeth didn't recognize him, but she decided he had to be European. New Yorkers didn't kiss hands. Which of Nola's many European friends was visiting the city now? Certainly no one would be willing to travel all the way across an ocean to attend a party, not even one of Nola's.

"Your mother looks beautiful," Claire Loomis said as she joined Elizabeth. They had gone to school together. Claire, who had lost no one on the t.i.tanic, had made her debut as planned and was now engaged to a banker. She was a sweet girl. Elizabeth had always liked her.

"Yes, she does. But I'm worried about her. She's too ... too excited. She's not well, you know."

Claire looked incredulous. "Your mother? Why, she's the very picture of health. What's wrong with her?"

Elizabeth lowered her voice. "It's her heart. She collapsed last summer. Dr. Cooper says -"

Claire interrupted. "Not Fenton Cooper?"

Surprised at her rudeness, Elizabeth nodded impatiently. "Yes, he said -"

Another interruption. "Oh, Elizabeth, don't you know about Dr. Cooper? I thought everyone did."

"Know what?"

"Dr. Cooper makes a practice of treating only wealthy society people who crave attention and pampering." Claire lowered her eyes in apology, or perhaps embarra.s.sment. But she went on, "He's almost always called in by the patient herself. Then he tells their families that the woman ... or the man, in some cases ... has a heart condition. Nothing life-threatening, of course ... if the patient gets plenty of attention and care and is never left alone for too long, never agitated or faced with any unpleasantness." Claire raised her eyes to meet Elizabeth's. "He did say your mother has a heart condition?"

Elizabeth could only nod.

"I thought so. That's what he always says." Claire hesitated, then asked, "Is that why you never went off to Va.s.sar? I heard you'd been accepted, even offered a scholars.h.i.+p. But I never heard that you'd actually gone."

Another stupefied nod from Elizabeth. Then, rousing herself, she said slowly, "My mother really does have a heart problem. She wouldn't lie about something like that." But ... but there was that letter from Va.s.sar, and then Nola, who had never been truly ill before, had collapsed. Then there was the second letter to Va.s.sar, declining ... and now Nola was the "picture of health," as Claire had pointed out. "How ... how do you know about Dr. Cooper? Why didn't I know? Who told you?"

Claire flushed scarlet. "I ... well, I don't know, Elizabeth, it's just common knowledge. Everyone knows. He's very popular in our mothers' crowd."

"I never heard about him," Elizabeth countered. "That strikes me as odd. As if ... as if people were keeping the information from me on purpose. Everyone knows he does this, and yet when he began treating my mother, no one told me? That seems very odd to me. Unless..." Her eyes moved away from Claire to search the crowded ballroom for her mother. When Elizabeth found her, laughing in a small cl.u.s.ter of impeccably dressed and groomed friends, she stayed focused on her. She looked healthier than anyone else in the group. "Unless," Elizabeth finished, "someone made certain I wasn't told about Dr. Cooper."

Claire said nothing.

Keeping her eyes on her vibrant, glowing mother, Elizabeth said distinctly, "I would like you to tell me exactly who first told you about Dr. Cooper. I mean, how you found out about this practice of his of scaring family members into caring devotedly for the demanding mothers and aunts and grandmothers in their lives, and perhaps also the fathers, uncles, and grandfathers." She laughed harshly. "After all, he probably doesn't care what gender the patient is as long as his bill is paid." She tore her gaze away from her mother, fastening it on Claire instead. "Who told you about him, Claire?"

Claire's flush deepened. She had no wish to hurt anyone. But Elizabeth was her friend, and wasn't it sad that such a bright, clever girl hadn't gone to Va.s.sar as she might have? And as far as Claire knew, Elizabeth was not even engaged. There was no husband waiting in the wings to care for her. It was really too tragic.

"Your mother." Her voice was a near whisper. But Elizabeth heard her clearly. "It was your mother who told me about Dr. Cooper."

Chapter 16.

ELIZABETH STARED AT CLAIRE. "My mother? When?"

"Last spring. At one of the t.i.tanic memorial ceremonies. You were off talking to Max. I was standing with your mother when Marcia Newman walked by. She's Marcia Carter now. You remember, she was engaged to that lawyer, Peter Carter? Her mother disapproved. She thought a lawyer wasn't nearly good enough for Marcia. She had planned to take Marcia back to Europe after her debut, maybe find a t.i.tle for her to marry. When Marcia insisted she was going to marry Peter, her mother collapsed. Just like your mother. And Fenton Cooper was the doctor who treated Mrs. Newman. He told Marcia he'd discovered that her mother had heart trouble, that she mustn't be upset or get excited about anything. So Marcia broke her engagement, remember?"

Elizabeth did. She'd felt bad for Marcia, knowing how much in love she and Peter were.

"But six weeks later," Claire continued, "Marcia and Peter eloped. I hadn't heard what happened, so when Marcia pa.s.sed by that day, I asked your mother how Mrs. Newman was. Had she had a second collapse when she heard about the elopement, I asked. Your mother laughed. *Don't be silly, dear,' she said, *there is nothing whatever wrong with Dolly Newman's heart. There never was.' Then she laughed and added, *Dolly knows when to give in gracefully. What else could she do, with her daughter already legally wed? She is now the very picture of health. Of course, she does suffer from indigestion whenever her new son-in-law comes for Sunday dinner.' And she laughed again."

Elizabeth had been stricken speechless. Her mother hadn't really collapsed? She had no heart trouble? "I remember thinking it odd last summer," she told Claire, "that Marcia's mother, rumored to be so seriously ill, had recovered so speedily and so completely. But it had never occurred to me that Dr. Cooper had made a phony diagnosis to keep Marcia from marrying Peter." Elizabeth tried to think clearly. If Dr. Cooper would do that for Dolly Newman, why not for Nola Fair? Not, of course, to keep her daughter from marrying, since that wasn't the problem. To keep her from leaving the city to attend college in Poughkeepsie. To keep her from leaving at all.

"Just to make sure I was understanding her," Claire continued, "I asked her straight out. I said, *Mrs. Farr, are you saying that there are some people in Manhattan who are believed to have heart conditions when they really don't? Because of Fenton Cooper?' And she gave me this look as if she'd just realized she wasn't talking to one of her friends and said, *Now, Claire, I never said that.' Then she actually tweaked my cheek, can you imagine, as if I were two years old, and said, *Let's just keep this conversation between us, shall we? At any rate, I believe you completely misunderstood.' Then she left to go find you. But I didn't misunderstand, Elizabeth. And I have to tell you, when we heard that you'd been accepted at Va.s.sar and would be leaving shortly, my mother said, *Nola will never let her go. Never.' And then we heard about her collapse. I should have put two and two together. I can't think why I didn't." Claire's eyes filled with regret. "I am so sorry that I didn't telephone you and tell you what she'd said to me that day last spring, Elizabeth. Maybe if you'd known, you'd have figured it out. And you'd have gone to Va.s.sar after all."

Elizabeth reached out to pat the girl's shoulder. "No, I wouldn't have, Claire. Don't blame yourself. I would never have believed it. The only reason I believe you now, and I do, is, I've been watching her carefully the past couple of weeks, getting ready for this party. Such boundless energy! Not that of a woman with a heart condition, that's for certain. Not once did she seem short of breath, or lightheaded, or weak. Her cheeks were always flushed with color, not the pallor of a patient. Oh, Dr. Cooper came regularly, saying he was here to *check up on her,' but I suppose that was a plot cooked up between the two of them. I've been watching her tonight, too, flitting around from guest to guest, dancing, rus.h.i.+ng to and from the kitchen. She's the healthiest-looking person here. It is so obvious to me now that she isn't sick. I feel like such a fool. Why didn't I suspect she was faking? It's a wonder people aren't coming up to her to congratulate her on her miraculous recovery. How could anyone here think of her as someone who isn't healthy?"

Staring in disbelief at Nola, now waltzing in the arms of the handsome European, laughing up at him, her face suffused with the healthy pink of excitement, Elizabeth had never felt so stupid in her life.

Before she could think how to react to the devastating information Claire had given her, Joseph, doing double-duty as butler for the party, arrived at her side to say, "The entertainer is here, Miss Elizabeth. Name of Kathleen Hanrahan and her agent, the woman Florence Chambers. They're waiting in the foyer. Shall I send them in, or do you wish to greet them yourself?"

Elizabeth needed to escape the ballroom and the sight of her undeniably healthy mother having a wonderful time. "I'll go, Joseph. You can tell my mother they're here."

Walking as if in a daze, Elizabeth left the festivities. Concerned with her friend's pallor and the look of shock on her face, Claire went with her.

"Why, I know you," Elizabeth said when she came upon the two women standing just inside the front door gazing around in awe. Elizabeth was addressing Katie, who looked lovely in a simple green gown, her red hair waving loosely about her shoulders. "You ... you were on the t.i.tanic. I remember you. You had those two children with you, and Max put them into a lifeboat. I knew you'd survived. I saw you on the Carpathia. You're a singer?"

Katie nodded. Astonished to find herself in the company of the girl from the s.h.i.+p, she couldn't help thinking that her hostess looked poorly. She was as white as the snow just beginning to fall outside, and her eyes seemed s.h.i.+ny, as if she needed to cry but hadn't yet. There seemed nothing festive or gay about her, yet this was a holiday party in her house. Was she ... Elizabeth, she had introduced herself as ... was Elizabeth not having a good time at her own party? Perhaps she'd had an argument with the handsome, heroic Max and he had refused to come to her party. Thinking of Max made Katie think of Paddy, off somewhere with Belle most likely, and it brought a sharp stab of pain to her heart. Love is so hurtful, she thought as Elizabeth led them to the ballroom, 'tis a wonder anyone ever bothers with it at all. We'd be better off avoiding it the same way we try to steer clear of contagious diseases like the plague and influenza.

As for Elizabeth, she wanted to ask the girl ... Kathleen ... about the other brother, the one she hadn't seen on the Carpathia. But she was afraid that inquiring about him would cause the girl pain.

She looks different, Elizabeth thought when she had presented the singer and her agent to Nola, who led them away to discuss the evening's program. She has ... grown up. She's matured from a pretty young girl to a woman, and one who doesn't seem at all aware of how beautiful she is. But there was something else about Miss Hanrahan, something more than just the pa.s.sage of almost two years' time. Gone was the eager, excited look of antic.i.p.ation Elizabeth had seen as the red-haired girl left the tender in Ireland and climbed aboard the great s.h.i.+p. It had been replaced by ... what? Pain? Sadness? Loss? There was something...

I've seen that look somewhere else, Elizabeth thought as she waited for her mother to return and Claire accepted an invitation to dance. I'm not sure where ... then she realized where. In a mirror every time she looked into one. And in the faces attending all those memorial ceremonies and services for victims of the t.i.tanic.

Elizabeth wondered if that look would always be there, no matter how many years had pa.s.sed since the s.h.i.+p went down.

She was afraid it would.

Still reeling from the revelation of her mother's cruel deception but reluctant to ruin the Irish girl's performance by causing a scene, Elizabeth fought to control her feelings of rage. It was difficult. How dare her mother trick her so cruelly? Cause her such worry, when she was already frightened of losing the only parent she had left? Had Nola never thought of that ... the fear she was instilling in her daughter by her charade? Or had her only selfish thought been to keep Elizabeth by her side, whatever the cost to Elizabeth?

How could such a cruel hoax ever be forgiven?

It was fortunate that the treacherous Dr. Fenton Cooper had not been invited. Fortunate for his sake. Elizabeth was so angry and disgusted with his lack of ethics, she thought she might well have seized a carving knife from the buffet table and threatened him with it, forcing him to admit his deceitful practices to all present.

It was so odd ... she was surrounded by people laughing, dancing, eating, drinking, having a grand, festive time, just as Nola had planned, and yet she, daughter of the hostess, was miserable. I'm not having a wonderful time, she thought bitterly.

If only Max were here. He would take her in his arms and listen as she poured out the story of her mother's enormous lie. And then he would say ...

Yes, Elizabeth? she asked herself. What would Max say? You know him so well. What do you think he would say?

She knew. She knew what Max would say. She could hear that deep, warm voice saying as clearly as if he really were standing next to her, "Finding out the truth about what she's done should set you free, Elizabeth. You know now that she isn't sick. She never was. She lied to you. Your father wouldn't condone that, would he? He seemed an honest person to me. I think he would release you from your promise. I think he would say, *You owe her nothing now. You are free to go.' "

But Max didn't know how her parents were with each other. It wasn't true that her father wouldn't have forgiven her mother. Martin Farr adored his wife. He'd have forgiven her anything.