“Do you want to know how much? Actually although I lost some cash, my biggest loss might be called hypothetical. The profits on the cash Harry was supposed to invest for our account.”
“Naturally I’ve never seen the woman, never laid eyes on her.”
“What woman?”
“Oh, now don’t pretend, Locky. I know all about it. In fact I’ve known about it for almost two years, so don’t spare my feelings. Unfortunately, though, I’m told that there’s no way to get any of the money back. Legally, it’s hers. Or at least it would be so hard to prove what isn’t hers. The lawyers say that the New York courts would never make her give anything back, and of course if the Pennsylvania courts decided in our favor, what good would that do? She’ll never show her face in this State, and she has no money here. Have you met her?
“No.”
“One of the lawyers said she’s totally unlike me, which he intended for a compliment. But then in the next breath told me how feminine she is. And of course beautiful. I wonder how many others there were. Harry spent a great deal of time talking about that sort of thing, but I thought it was to shock me. The way some husbands do because they think their wives like to be shocked. Well, I guess I did encourage him. Some of our conversations wouldn’t bear repeating. Poor Harry. How I must have bored him when I thought I was being deliciously naughty, and all the time he had a beautiful mistress in New York. Beautiful, and feminine, and young. Twenty-five or -six. I guess there must have been others. Yes. Harry and I married too young, the month he graduated. I’m selling this house. You wouldn’t like to buy it, would you?”
“It’s a beautiful house, but a bit too far away from Swedish Haven.”
“Buy it, and I’ll be your mistress. Wouldn’t you like to have a mistress to come to when you’re in Philadelphia? Of course I’m not beautiful, or young. But I’m feminine. That lawyer infuriated me when he said that.”
“Of course I’ll buy the house, if you go with it.”
“There, that makes up for Mr. Jonas Ripley’s insulting remark.”
“That’s what you get for having Jonas Ripley as your lawyer. I knew him in my college days, and I’ve hardly ever seen him since, but I guess he hasn’t changed much. The kind of lawyer that people go to because his name is Ripley.”
“That’s usually good enough reason, in Philadelphia.”
“I haven’t said anything to offend you?”
“No, no. I say much worse things about them than you’d ever think of saying. I never traveled much with the pack, didn’t you know? No, I guess you didn’t. All the years that you and Harry were in partnership together, I’ve never met your wife, and isn’t this the first time you’ve ever been here?”
“I came here when I was at the University, but after the war I went back to Swedish Haven and stayed.”
“You were wise.”
“Why?”
“Well, unless you’d married a Philadelphia girl you’d have found that those college friendships haven’t very much meaning. As soon as those boys graduate from college they come back here and start being Philadelphians again. The worst of them of course are those that never left, the ones that stayed here and went to the University instead of going to Harvard or Yale. All those boys that were in that whist club of yours. That one with the question mark for a stickpin.”
“The Ruffes. The club still exists.”
“Oh, I’m sure it does, but I’m sure it has other reasons for existing besides whist.” She smiled. “It used to.”
“That’s the very same smile you had on your face when you wouldn’t tell me why you were smiling.”
“Then we’ll have to quickly change the subject again.”
“The smile had something to do with The Ruffes. You were not supposed to know anything about The Ruffes. My wife doesn’t.”
“Then you’re better at keeping secrets than Harry was. Some secrets, at least. I know all about The Ruffes, or I used to.”
“Well, since you’re in on our secrets, why not let me in on your secret? Why did you smile?”
She shook her head. “No, Locky. Not in a thousand years.”
“Well, we’re progressing. First you said a million years. Maybe I can get it down to a hundred before I leave.”
“A million or a thousand, both mean never. When do you go to The Run place?”
“A week or two after school closes. Will you be there then?”
“Yes, just about the same time. I own this house, you know. It isn’t part of Harry’s jumbled estate. And I’m going to put it on the market in a week or two so that people can come and see it while I’m away.”
“Oh, then you’ve decided not to sell to me?”
Her manner suddenly changed. “What if I took you seriously?”
“I took you seriously.”
“No you didn’t. But I have a reputation for speaking my mind, not always to my advantage, and if I offered myself as mistress to some of the men I know, it would be taken very seriously. And I’d mean it seriously. I’m not very young and I’m not very pretty, but there doesn’t seem to be much else for me to do.”
“You’re certainly not serious now, although you sound it.”
“Why not? I’d be better off as the mistress of some men I know. Men that have flirted with me and wanted to make love to me, and still would. I’ll have nothing but this house, you know, or whatever I get for it in cash. That will be enough to finish the children’s education, but where will that leave me ten years from now?”
“You are serious.”
“It’s the best thing that could happen to me.”
“And the worst.”
“Because people talk? They’ve talked already. They’ve always talked about me in Philadelphia, and when Harry shot himself the gossips got busy immediately. The women that didn’t know he had a mistress thought that I must have had a lover. Well, I did. My first. A year ago. He ran like a deer, d, double-e, r, when the rumors started about Harry losing so much money. Oh, he ran! He’s still running. Took a trip around the world, with his wife, of course. You don’t hear Philadelphia gossip, but I do, even when it’s me they’re gossiping about. Although they never knew about my startled faun.”
“I’ve always wondered where people like you would meet.”
“What bed we’d use?” She pointed upward. “Mine. My own bed. Whenever Harry went to New York to see his light of love.”
“But the children, and the servants.”
“After they’d gone to bed. From ten o’clock on. I don’t know how or where other women had their rendezvous, but that’s the way mine were.”
“And what about his wife?”
“Well, I don’t know how much I can tell you without identifying them. But he had a very good excuse to spend the night in town quite frequently. On business, you might say.”
“He was a doctor.”
“I won’t say.”
“Why didn’t she become suspicious?”
“She was too clever to show much suspicion. When a woman has those suspicions, and is married to a very rich man, she’d better not give vent to her suspicions unless she’s prepared to risk an open break. In this case, the woman wasn’t willing to risk anything. The husband could have told her the truth and she’d have acquiesced. I never thought much of her. She had no pride. All she wanted was a life of ease and luxury. A box of chocolates and a trashy novel. A tiara that Queen Victoria wouldn’t wear. Footmen in knee breeches —oh, dear, I shouldn’t have said that.”