Prepare For Success
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I have not mentioned what the old man, or rather, the young lady said. He was a great talker and had me spellbound with the stories of his life in India. He spoke of all sorts of subjects. I learned from him many things that were of interest to my mother—his words were like drops of dew on my soul; he was as cool water to my weary feet and a gentle breeze to my troubled spirits.
The next day my father returned home, and I could see at once that Mother’s plan was to have this Mr. Rivenhall stay with us for several months. My first impression was that she must be a wonderful person who would give me much pleasure, but I was not surprised when my father told me that Mr. Rivenhall had accepted her proposal.
He looked so pleased with himself and so proud. The very next day my brother came back to town and the whole household seemed changed by his arrival! I could tell how delighted he was when we saw him come through the hall door, and my heart swelled within me, knowing he was now my brother and that our future together lay before us.
It was an exciting time—the prospect of my mother’s marriage, my father’s business success, and my own approaching nuptials. And yet…
The following Saturday we were invited to dinner at Sir John’s house and it is here I shall end my narrative. As soon as he heard my mother’s plans for him, my father took a liking to the man, who was then still unknown to us all; and though he did not say so to me, I think my father hoped that this acquaintance might prove a means whereby to help secure our fortune.
I had thought that the idea of my marrying into a family such as Lady Elizabeth’s was an agreeable one, but when I sat down to the table and listened to the old man’s account of their lives in India, I began to feel that the match would be a very different affair from the one my father had envisaged.
In fact, I became so nervous and excited during dinner, that I hardly ate a mouthful. When I rose to leave, my mother and Father asked me to take some flowers to Lady Elizabeth, as they feared she might be unwell. She was indeed suffering from the heat. They assured me that Mr. Rivenhall would meet us at the door and show us up.
“We are expecting guests tomorrow evening,” said my mother, “so you need not hurry back.”
My father was away on business, and so I walked out alone, and the thought that my father might know about Mr. Rivenhall and his past troubles me more than anything else.
I arrived at Sir John’s residence and met Mr. Rivenhall standing outside. He took me up the stairs to Lady Elizabeth’s room and showed me where to put the vase of roses on the dressing table. After that, he wished me good night and left me at the top of the stairs.
A short time after, I heard my name called, and turning I saw Mr. Rivenhall coming down the corridor. His hands were in his pockets, and I fancied he was looking around to find me. But he did not appear to recognize me, and so I went on upstairs, thinking only of my mother’s wedding, and hoping that the two gentlemen had not exchanged confidences about their respective fortunes.
It has always been my dream to please my parents and so I tried to act naturally and calmly, but it seemed to me that the room was too dark. It had a strange atmosphere, and I felt uneasy, especially as we were walking toward the door.
I remember that the moon was shining in the window, and I could hear the sounds of distant singing—a waltz, no doubt—and I wondered if there was another guest staying.
Mr. Rivenhall opened the door and held it open for me. As he did so, I noticed a small box lying at his side, and a moment later I saw Lady Elizabeth coming down the stairs. We entered, and I found myself in the presence of Lady Elizabeth.
There was something familiar about her. Perhaps it was merely the way in which she moved her head, or perhaps the light was dim, but I knew I had seen her somewhere before! Then Mr. Rivenhall gave me a push, and we stepped into the drawing room.
My heart leaped to my throat as I recognized my mother and father waiting there! I had expected them, but not quite so soon. My father’s face lit up when he saw me, and my mother smiled and nodded. I was so happy when I realized that they had come. They stood close together and spoke in low whispers. I was not sure why they were whispering, but I could see that both were smiling.
“You’re late,” said my father. “And yet we are glad to see you, too.” And they turned toward the window as if to hide their faces.
The next few minutes were a long interval of silence, during which Mr. Rivenhall and I stood staring at each other. It was not until we heard my mother and father calling us by name that Mr. Rivenhall finally moved forward and extended his hand to me.
It was then that I noticed the flowers in his coat pocket. I looked up and saw that he also wore the same sort of hat and jacket that he had worn at the hotel. For a moment we stood still while my mother greeted me with a kiss and a smile. She was dressed differently: her hair was curled and she had pinned ribbons about her neck and wrists. Her dress was black—the color of mourning—but the expression on her face told me that she did not really mind what she was wearing.
“Oh, do come along,” said my father, taking his arm from around my mother’s shoulders. “We must go and sit down.”
As the three of us crossed to join them, I could see that Mr. Rivenhall was looking at my parents. He glanced once more at the box at my father’s side. Then he drew me away by one hand and guided me to the sofa near my mother.
I sat down, feeling very awkward and uncomfortable. I wanted to be alone with him, but now I was in the company again. At last, my father asked Mr. Rivenhall to take the vacant seat beside my mother, and he did so.
I suppose he must have been surprised at the change in me because he was looking at me strangely, as though he were searching for something. I looked at my mother, who was smiling and holding on to my father’s arm; my father was leaning on her shoulder and clasping her hand in both of his own. I thought to myself: I will never forget this.
“Now, Miss Rivenhall,” said my father, “we’ve got everything arranged as you like, and I think you’ll agree that we made some changes for the better.”
I nodded. My father had given me a list of what would be needed in order to make it suitable, and I had already bought everything I required. But I couldn’t help saying that the room was smaller than I had anticipated, even after we had put all our things in it.
“Yes,” said Mr. Rivenhall, “I know it is a little cramped. But that may not last long. I hope it won’t! In any case, we shall be moving soon.”
He spoke so quietly that the others could scarcely hear him.
“What did you mean?” asked my father in a stern voice. “Are you going out of town? Why didn’t you tell us?”
For a moment he stared at me without speaking. Then he took my hand and placed it on his knee and looked straight into my eyes, saying nothing. It was the first time he had ever touched me like that and, oddly enough, I felt ashamed of it.
After a moment he withdrew his hand. “Well, you’re not young anymore, Miss Rivenhall. You can’t expect me to remember every little thing!”
Then Mr. Rivenhall spoke, asking for the names of the people who were staying at the hotel and how many rooms they had occupied.
“You will find everything to your liking here,” said my father. “I have left instructions that you are to have whatever you wish provided, and you must feel free to ask me or Mrs. Craye for anything.”
My father’s words were so unexpected that I was taken aback. I wondered if this was some sort of joke, but I could not understand why he should have said such a thing. I knew perfectly well that I did not need to be told.
But Mr. Rivenhall looked at me and smiled—a kind and friendly smile. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Rivenhall,” he said. “Why should she want anything different from what we gave you before?”
“I meant no harm, my dear,” my father answered quickly. “Of course, I am happy that you are pleased with our arrangements.”
It seemed to me that he was being sarcastic. As I sat there listening to him, I remembered what he had said to me when we had met the previous evening, but I said nothing. My father looked at me, and then he laughed aloud.
I was confused by this conversation. All the same, I felt relieved that my father was pleased and I began to be excited at the prospect of our future together, despite everything that had gone wrong.
“There, that is settled,” said Mr. Rivenhall, smiling, and I was glad to see that he too had turned to my father for his answers. But Mr. Rivenhall did not look happy. I watched him carefully, waiting for the other man to speak again.
When I reached home later that afternoon I found my mother sitting in an armchair with my sister, and Mrs. Craye had brought out the tea things, and I was beginning to feel hungry. They had all been talking of their plans for our new home. And then suddenly, unexpectedly, a thought flashed through my mind.
“Didn’t you say something about getting a cat?”
Mr. Rivenhall looked up. There was a puzzled look on his face, as though he didn’t quite understand what I meant. He said in answer:
“What? A cat? Oh, yes. Well, that wasn’t very likely, was it? What does it matter, really?”
He spoke lightly, but still, I had a strange feeling that he might be lying to me.
“But, sir—if you like it!”
And my father said: “We shall be leaving in an hour.”
He turned to my mother and added: “I hope you like the changes I’ve made.”
My mother replied with her usual sweet smile; I felt a thrill run up and down my spine when I saw them both nodding to each other so happily.
The next morning we took the train back to London and arrived at Paddington Station. My father came with us. We got into a cab, and he asked where Mr. Rivenhall lived and whether we were going to the same place.
When he heard that we were staying at the Langham Hotel, he remarked that that was just as well. It was a fine house and very convenient to the station, and I was surprised that he cared for such things.
When we stepped out of the cab and went inside the hotel, the porter helped us with our baggage to our room. Mr. Rivenhall stood beside us and looked around with pleasure. Then he turned and said to me:
“I think I shall have lunch at one of those cafés on Oxford Street,” he said. “I don’t think I have eaten since yesterday.”
“Sir?” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew Mr. Rivenhall?”
And my father said, looking at me with surprise, “Oh, no! I haven’t seen him since we left the hotel last night, I’m sure.”
“But you said—”
“No—no, I don’t remember it,” my father interrupted, shaking his head.
“I thought you might have been acquainted,” said Mr. Rivenhall. “You’re so like—”
I was about to answer him when a door opened at the far end of the passage, and my mother came in. She had changed since last night, having put her hair up for the journey and changed into a dress that was new.
I was surprised to see how pretty she was. The change was so sudden that it struck me as odd. My mother looked more beautiful than ever, and her smile brightened her features wonderfully. Her eyes lit up and sparkled as she looked at me. I blushed, and my heart beat faster.
“Well?” said Mr. Rivenhall, looking at me. “Are you pleased?”
I looked up at him, but he was watching my mother intently. She smiled at me and looked away.
“Yes. I am very much pleased indeed.”
“Good.” My father gave me a quick nod and walked off toward the lifts.
“Don’t be long in dressing,” said Mr. Rivenhall quietly, as he followed my father. “I want to see the two of you together before we go on our travels.”
I could hardly bear the sight of my mother’s radiant face and my father’s handsome profile, walking side by side along the pavement. I felt a little uneasy, and yet I could not help smiling.
“You’ll find it amusing,” Mr. Rivenhall remarked when we were seated in our compartment on the train. “It’s quite unlike anything you’ve seen before.”
“Where are we going?” I asked him.
“To America.”
“Oh!”
The train moved slowly onward, and it seemed to me that we were traveling through time. We had left England behind us, and now we were moving into another era.
My first impression was that it was a vast country, and I began to wonder if Mr. Rivenhall had really understood us properly when he said the world would seem different there. How could he know what we wanted?
“It will be quite easy to find somewhere nice,” continued my father. “I shall take Mr. Rivenhall to the best places where they can be found, and you and your mother can choose.”
“Do you mean you’ve arranged everything?”
“Of course,” said my father, laughing, then he said, “You needn’t look so surprised,” as he saw me staring at him. “I told Mr. Rivenhall that you would be coming with us.”
“What?”
“Mr. Rivenhall is going to take you to the most delightful hotels in every city in the States—you and your mother, that is. He’s going to pay.”
I stared at my father, who was smiling so innocently. I tried to understand. But I couldn’t. Why should my father care to go anywhere with Mr. Rivenhall?
The train slowed down, and we stopped in front of a tall building that stood on its own and seemed isolated from all the others.
“That’s the hotel,” said my mother, smiling at me. “It seems very grand, doesn’t it? I think this must be the main entrance.”
As we got off the carriage, an orderly came up to help us carry our luggage inside. We walked up the stairs to the second floor and then turned onto a corridor that curved round to the right and left.
My father looked back at me once, as we made our way upstairs, and said quietly, “I thought you’d enjoy it. Now let’s get settled in and then I’ll show you the rest of the town.”
We went straight past the lifts, which took us directly to our rooms. My mother was already opening the door for me; I saw him waiting on her side too.
When we entered the room, my mother said, “This is lovely! It looks exactly like what they say America is like. Isn’t it just perfect?”
I did not say anything, but only looked out of the window. I could see a glimpse of the sea beyond the glass. I wondered whether Mr. Rivenhall liked to be alone in such places, for I thought it was rather cold and desolate. Perhaps I was being selfish; after all, I hadn’t known anything of America until this moment and I wanted my mother to myself. And my father.
He was sitting close beside me; he put his arm around me, and it seemed as though he wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to run away or refuse to come with them.
“It’s very big and empty,” I said. “And so white.”
“So are we, when you come to think of it.”
“But—”
“No, no.” My father shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said kindly. “There’s nothing I can do about it, so don’t feel bad. Just forget it, all right? You won’t have the opportunity to see him again, so you might as well get used to it. And there are plenty of other sights to see—and people to meet. It will be all right.”
“All right?” I said blankly. Then I looked at my mother and she was nodding.
“Well, you’ll have some things to tell me about,” said my father softly. “Now then”—he drew me nearer so that we were looking into each other’s eyes—”it looks fine here, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
We went back to the table and sat down to eat dinner. When we had finished, my mother asked, “Will you please take me down to the beach? I want to get a look at it.”
“Of course.”
“I suppose you’ll want to see the town,” said my mother. “Why don’t we both go?”
“Not a bit of it,” I said. “It’s just as well that you’ve decided not to stay on the ship with us. That was the worst part of leaving England for me.”
“I am sorry you found it so difficult. Shall we go to bed?”
“Yes,” said my father. “I don’t mind. Let’s not sit by that window any longer; I don’t fancy staying out much longer than this. Besides,” he added, looking at me with amusement, “the view isn’t as good from below.”
He helped my mother to take down her hairpin, then he opened a door on one side of the hall and led us through to the bedroom. We were standing there looking at each other when Mrs. Rivenhall came down the hallway with two maids trailing behind her.
I thought how strange it felt to be alone with him in this place. The curtains were closed, and the room looked darker as if it was trying hard to conceal itself from us. I shivered as though it was a chilly night, even though it was warm. My parents went over to the bed and sat down. They had already undressed; my mother looked quite different without her gown on. She gave me a smile and said, “Goodnight, darling.”
“Oh no!” I cried suddenly.
I could not stop myself, but it was too late now to change my mind. Before I knew it, I had stepped through the door to the corridor and then out into the garden.
“You’ll never guess who I met on the ship,” I said, turning to face my mother.
“What do you mean?” asked my father, looking surprised. He took my hand and put it on his arm. He was holding my hand so tightly, I couldn’t move my fingers. I tried to pull them away, and he held on to me harder.
“You know how much my father and brother are alike,” I told him quickly before he could speak again. “They’re twins.”
She stared at me. Then she smiled at him, but I could still see the surprise in her eyes.
“Is that so?” said my mother, smiling. “Do tell me all about it.”
“Mr. Rivenhall is my half-brother,” I explained to her.
“Oh! Really?” My father sounded amused.
“Yes,” I replied, smiling at him. “Isn’t that extraordinary? We’re all related, and you didn’t know it.”
My mother laughed. “How interesting. What do you say? Will you help us?”
“I think you need a little time alone, dear,” my mother whispered to me. “Don’t worry about anything. You’ll find your way back.”
I turned and began walking toward the beach, and my father walked along beside me. I was aware of how heavy my heart seemed, and I wondered why I hadn’t seen that earlier.
“This is where it starts,” he said. His voice sounded very gentle like he was speaking to a child. “The journey begins here, on the shoreline of this garden.”
“That’s what my mother said,” I said. My father nodded at me, and then he squeezed my hand. “We mustn’t forget what you’ve done. Not for ourselves, not for my mother, not for your father or yourself—but for England. Your father has been telling me everything. It seems to be important. Now you’ll have to tell us about it, won’t you?”
I nodded. He let go of my hand. I watched him going across the room. Then I heard a light step behind me. I turned and saw Mrs. Rivenhall hurrying towards us. I looked up at her, feeling a sudden wave of relief. For a moment I thought perhaps she would go back to the ship, but instead, she came closer to us.
“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Rivenhall,” she said to him quietly, taking my hand, as she said the same thing to my father.
I kept walking toward the beach, trying to feel my way along the sand beneath my feet. There was no moon tonight; it wasn’t quite dark yet, either. The air was cool, and the sea breeze was blowing softly against my cheeks.
“Are you cold?” asked my mother, coming after me. She put her arms around my waist. “Come inside, it’s warm there. You’re shivering.”
As soon as I was in bed, I curled up on my side. I could hear my parents whispering as they lay down by me: the sound of their voices was soft and sweet, the kind of music that made a person feel safe and secure. And it reminded me of something else, too.
I recalled the first time I ever came here. I closed my eyes and remembered the feel of my mother’s fingers touching mine when we held hands. How long ago that seemed to have been!
The End