"Yes?"
"It was Mrs. Clairborne's grandson, Louis."
"Louis! What did he want?"
"He wanted to speak to you. I told him why you couldn't come to the phone and he became very . . . "
"Very what, Mrs. Penny?"
"Nasty," she said, with obvious amazement. "I tried to explain how I had no control over the situation, how it wasn't in my power to change things, but he . . . ″
"But he what?"
"He just started to scream at me and accuse me of being part of some conspiracy headed by Mrs. Ironwood. Honestly," she declared, shaking her head, "I never heard such talk. Then he slammed the phone down on me. It's given me the shakes," she said, embracing herself.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Mrs. Penny. As you said, you don't have any say in the matter."
"Of course, I've never heard him speak before. I . . . ″
"Just forget about it, Mrs. Penny. After my period of punishment, I'll try to reach him and see what it was he wanted."
"Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes. Such anger. I feel . . . so shaken," she concluded and walked off.
"What do you suppose he wanted from you?" Abby asked.
I shook my head. "I can understand why he feels it's all a conspiracy. His grandmother and the Iron Lady control every moment of his life, especially whom he sees. Mrs. Ironwood made it clear to me she wasn't happy that I went up there for dinner," I said.
But whatever control Mrs. Clairborne and Mrs. Ironwood had enjoyed over Louis seemed to be weakening, for early the next morning, Mrs. Penny returned to my room to announce a new turn of events. She was obviously very impressed and excited about it. Abby and I had barely finished dressing for breakfast when she was at our door.
"Good morning," she said. "I had to come right down to tell you."
"Tell me what, Mrs. Penny?"
"Mrs. Ironwood has called me directly to tell me you will be permitted to go out for two hours this morning."
"Go out? Go where?" I asked.
"To the Clairborne plantation house," she said, her eyes wide.
"She will let me go out and she will let me go to the plantation?" I looked at Abby, who seemed just as amazed as I was. "But why?"
"Louis," Mrs. Penny replied. "I imagine he's insisting on seeing you today."
"But maybe I don't want to see him," I said, and Mrs. Penny's mouth dropped. "I could never get permission to see my boyfriend, who won't be able to come up here now for two weeks and who would have had to drive for hours, but I can be permitted to go up to the plantation house. These Clairbornes play pretty fast and loose with other people's feelings—picking people up and putting them back down again as though we're only pieces on their personal chessboards." I complained and sat back on my bed.
Mrs. Penny wrung her hands and shook her head. "But . . . but this must be very important if Mrs. Ironwood is willing to bend the punishment somewhat. How can you not want to go? It will only make everyone even angrier at you, I'm sure," she threatened. "They might even blame it on me."
"Oh, Mrs. Penny, they can't blame anything on you."
"Yes, they can. I'm the one who didn't tell them that you had left the campus in the first place, remember?" she reminded me. "That's what started all this," she wailed.
The cloud of fear under which everyone at Greenwood lived disgusted me. "All right," I relented. "When am I supposed to go?"
"After breakfast," she said, relieved. "Buck will have the car out front"
Still unhappy and annoyed, I changed into something more appropriate and went to breakfast with Abby. When Gisselle heard where I was going after breakfast, she threw one of her temper tantrums at the table, stopping all other conversation and drawing everyone's attention to us.
"No matter where you go or what you do, you become Little Miss Special. Even the Iron Lady makes special rules for you and not for everyone else," she complained.
"I don't think Mrs. Ironwood is doing anything for me or is very happy about it anyway," I replied, but Gisselle only saw one thing: I was being permitted to break out of my imprisonment. _
"Well, if any of us get punished, we're going to remind her about this," she threatened, firing her angry gaze at everyone around the table.
After breakfast I left the dorm and got into the car. Buck said very little, except to mutter about how his repair work kept getting interrupted. Apparently no one was happy about my command appearance at the Clairborne plantation. Mrs. Clairborne didn't even appear to greet me. It was Otis who led me through the long corridor to the music studio, where Louis waited at his piano.
"Mademoiselle Dumas," the butler announced, and left us.
Louis, dressed in a gray silk smoking jacket, white cotton shirt, and dark gray flannel slacks, raised his head. "Please, come in," he said, realizing that I was still standing in the doorway.
"What is it, Louis?" I asked, not disguising the note of annoyance in my voice. "Why did you ask that I be brought back here?"
"I know you're angry with me," he said. "I treated you rather shabbily and you have every right to be mad. I embarrassed you and then ran out on you. I wanted you to come up here so I could apologize to you face to face. Even though I can't see you," he added with a tiny smile.
"It's all right. I wasn't angry at you."
"I know. You felt sorry for me, and I guess I deserve that too. I'm pitiful. No," he said when I started to protest. "It's all right. I understand and accept it. I am to be pitied. I remain here, wallowing in my own self-pity, so why shouldn't someone else look at me pathetically and not want to have anything much to do with me?
"It's just that . . . I felt something about you that drew me a little closer to you, made me less afraid of being laughed at or ridiculed—so it was something I know most girls your age would do, especially Grandmother's precious Greenwood girls."
"They wouldn't laugh at you, Louis. Even the crème de la crème, the direct descendants of the Filles de la Cassette," I said with ridicule. He widened his smile.
"That's what I mean," he said. "You think like I do. You are different. I feel I can trust you. I'm sorry I made you feel as if you were summoned to appear in court," he added quickly.
"Well, it's not that, so much as I was punished and . . . ″
"Yes. Why were you punished? I hope it was something very naughty," he added.
"I'm afraid it's not." I told him about my painting trip off campus and he smirked.
"That was it?"
I wanted to tell him more—how his cousin Mrs. Ironwood had it in for me for meeting him—but I decided not to add fuel to the fire. He looked relieved.
"So I pulled a little rank, so what? My cousin will get over it. I've never asked her for anything before. Grandmother wasn't overjoyed, of course."
"I bet you did more than pull a little rank," I said, stepping closer to the piano. "I bet you pulled a little tantrum of your own."
He laughed. "Just a little." He was silent a moment, and then he handed me a few pages of notes. "Here," he said. "It's your song."
At the top of the page was the title "Ruby."
"Oh. Thank you." I put it into my purse.
"Would you like to take a walk through the gardens?" he asked. "Or rather, I should say, take me for a walk?"
"Yes, I would."
He stood up and offered me his hand.
"Just go through the patio doors and turn right," he directed. He scooped his arm through mine and I led him along. It was a warm, partly cloudy morning, with just a small breeze. With amazing accuracy, he described the fountains, the hanging fern and philodendron plants, the oaks and bamboo trees and the trellises erupting with purple wisteria. He identified everything because of their scents, whether it be camellias or magnolias. He had the surroundings memorized according to aromas and knew just when we had reached a set of patio doors on the west side of the house that, he said, opened to his room.