"Sit down," Daphne ordered, nodding at the chair beside Gisselle. I took it quickly.
"Is Paul gone?" Gisselle asked.
"Yes."
"Quiet, the two of you. I didn't gather you here to discuss some Cajun boy."
"He's not a boy; he's a young man," I said. "And the manager of his father's factory."
"Fine. I hope he becomes king of the swamp. Now," she said, putting her hands on the arms of the chair, "the two of you will be leaving early in the morning, so I wanted to get some matters straightened out and some business conducted before I retire to my suite. I'm exhausted from all this."
"Then why do we have to leave tomorrow?" Gisselle whined. "We're exhausted too."
"It's settled: You're leaving," Daphne said, her eyes big. She calmed herself again and continued. "First, I'm cutting in half the amount of money your father was sending you. You have little or no use for spending money while you attend Greenwood anyway."
"That's not true!" Gisselle countered. "In fact, if you give us permission to leave the grounds—"
"I'm not about to do that. Do you think I'm a fool?" She glared at Gisselle as if she expected an answer. "Do you?" she taunted.
"No," Gisselle said, "but it's boring having to stay on the grounds, especially on the weekends. Why can't we take taxis to the city, go to a movie, go shopping?"
"You're there to study and work, not vacation. If you need more money for some emergency, you can phone Bruce at the office and explain what it is and he'll see to it the money is delivered—taken from your trust, of course.
"Neither of you need anything new in your wardrobe. Your father overindulged you both when it came to clothing. He insisted I take you shopping when you first arrived, Ruby. Remember?"
"I thought you wanted to do that," I said softly.
"I did what I had to do to maintain some social dignity. I couldn't have you living here and looking like a runaway Cajun, could I? But your father didn't think I had bought enough. There was never enough for his precious twins. Between both your closets, I could open a department store. Bruce knows our bills. Isn't that so, Bruce?"
"Quite true," he said, nodding and smiling.
"Explain the trust to them simply and quickly, Bruce, if you please," Daphne told him.
He pulled himself up and gazed at some documents on the desk. "Quite simply, all your basic needs are provided for: your schooling, your travel expenses, necessities, and some money for luxuries, gifts, et cetera. As it is required, it is drawn out when Daphne signs for it. If you need an extra stipend, put it in writing and send it to the office, and I'll look into it."
"Put it in writing? What are we, employees now?" Gisselle demanded.
"Hardly employees," Daphne said, her voice hard, her smile faint and sardonic. "Employees have to work for what they get."
She and Bruce exchanged a look of satisfaction before she turned back to us.
"I want to reiterate what I told you about your behavior at Greenwood. Should I be called by the principal because of some misbehavior, the consequences will be dire for you, I assure you."
"What could be more dire than having to stay at Greenwood?" Gisselle muttered.
"There are other schools, farther away, with rules far stricter than the rules at Greenwood."
"You mean reform schools," Gisselle said.
"Gisselle," I said, "stop arguing. It's no use."
She gazed at me with her teary eyes.
I shook my head. "She almost had me committed once. She's capable of anything."
"That's enough," Daphne snapped. "Go up and pack your clothes and remember my warnings about your behavior at school. I don't want to hear a bad word. It's enough that Pierre went and died and left me to be guardian over the offspring resulting from his wild indulgences. I don't have the time nor the emotional strength for it."
"Oh, you have the strength, Daphne," I said. "You have the strength."
She stared at me a moment and then put her hand on her chest. "My heart is beating a mile a minute, Bruce. I have to go up. Will you see to it that they do what they're told and the limousine is here to take them to school in the morning?"
"Of course," he said.
I rose quickly and pushed my sister out of the parlor. Maybe she realized it now; maybe she understood that when Daddy died, we had become orphans, albeit orphans from a rich family, but poorer than the poorest when it came to having someone to love and someone to love us.
12
Dark Clouds
Despite what Gisselle had heard and seen in the parlor the day before, she somehow blamed me, insisting I hadn't done enough to persuade Daphne to let us remain at home and return to school in New Orleans.
"At least you have something there you like," she moaned before we went to sleep the night before. "You have your precious Miss Stevens and your artwork to occupy yourself, and you can run up to the Clairborne mansion to tease Mrs. Clairborne's blind grandson, but all I have is this group of stupid, immature girls with which to amuse myself."
"I don't tease, Louis," I said. "I feel sorry for him. He's someone who's suffered great emotional pain."
"And what about me? Haven't I suffered great emotional pain? I nearly died; I'm crippled. We're sisters. Why don't you feel sorry for me?" she cried.
"I do," I said, but it was half a lie, Despite Gisselle's being confined to a wheelchair, I found it more and more difficult to sympathize with her plight. Most of the time, Gisselle managed to get what she wanted no matter what, and usually at someone else's expense.
"No you don't! And now I've got to go back to that . . . that hellhole," she groaned.
She threw a tantrum and wheeled herself about her room, knocking things off the dresser and scattering clothing everywhere. Poor Martha had to come in and straighten it all out before Daphne discovered what Gisselle had done.
In the morning she sat rigidly in her wheelchair, as stiff as she would be had she been calcified, not moving a limb and making the transference from chair to chair to car that much more difficult. She refused to eat a morsel of breakfast and kept her lips so tightly pressed together, they looked stitched closed. Although Gisselle was doing all this for our step-mother's benefit, Daphne witnessed none of her tantrum. She merely sent down orders for Edgar, Nina, and the chauffeur and reminders with warnings attached for us. Bruce Bristow arrived just before we were to leave to make sure our departure went smoothly and on schedule. It was the only time Gisselle uttered a word.
"Who are you now," she taunted, "Daphne's little gofer? Bruce, go for this; Bruce, go for that." She laughed at her own derisive comment. Bruce's face turned pink, but he simply smiled and then went to see to the luggage. Frustrated and furious, Gisselle gave up and sat back with her eyes closed, resembling one of the patients strapped in a straitjacket in Uncle Jean's institution.
The trip back to Greenwood was almost as depressing as our journey home to Daddy's funeral. It was far more bleak, the dark gray skies following us all the way, with some light sprinkles dotting the windshield and creating a need for the monotonous sweep of the wipers. Gisselle closed up as tightly as a clam in her corner of the rear seat, not so much as gazing out the window once we left New Orleans. Occasionally, she would throw me a hard look.
For my part I found myself looking forward to doing just what Gisselle had said: returning to work with Miss Stevens and throwing all my energies and attention into the development of my artistic talents. After spending days under Daphne's glaring eyes and oppressive thumb, I actually welcomed the sight of Greenwood when we pulled up the drive and saw the girls scurrying about the grounds after class, all of them laughing, giggling, talking with an animation I now envied. Even Gisselle permitted herself to brighten a bit. I knew she wouldn't show her defeat and disappointment to her disciples.