Chapter 8

Johnny and I changed into blazers and ties, the minimum attire for dinner. We went back downstairs with Robert close behind as the clock struck six. The drawing-room drapes were shut and a fire lit in the grate. Johnny went over to the bar to make us vodka tonics, while I gazed at the Constable. He came up beside me and handed me my drink.

“Cheers,” he said.

I clinked his glass.

We stood silently before the painting until Johnny commented, “He transports me into a place of peace and tranquility, although the clouds in the distance always seem to portend an approaching storm.”

“Rain, at the least, I think.”

“When I stare at it, I wonder which is more real: Rhinebeck or Constable’s nineteenth-century England?”

“You mean, both don’t represent reality.”

Johnny chuckled. “That’s why I like having you around.” He slapped my shoulder. “You understand me. Remember the story of Brigadoon?”

“Yes, your mother took us to the Broadway musical when we were small.”

“I loved the idea of escaping into another world,” said Johnny. “Rhinebeck has been that mythical place for me. It’s always been far from the realities and struggles of life. At least I used to think so.”

“Not anymore?”

“I can feel something stirring. This house used to be quiet and restful, like the painting. Now the water looks a lot deeper than I thought, and there are things moving beneath the surface. My world is changing. Look at the picture on the table. Do you see the same person?”

I looked at the silver-framed photograph of Alice. “I admit our past image of her may have been naïve.”

“Tell me about it,” said Johnny. “And I have a feeling we’ll know far more than we bargained for by the time all is said and done. I am more than a little nervous. I really liked how I used to think of her. I loved her glamour and the security she represented.”

“Yes. Obviously the image of her that we believed growing up was just that — an image. Now that we’re seeing the real Alice, our notions of her are being shaken up a bit.”

“More than a bit — my entire perception of her has changed, and there’s no going back. It’s more than a little distressing.”

“Yes, but Alice is still the same Alice she always was,” I said. “She’s there in our memories, just as alive, caring, and vibrant. We can keep her that way if we want. We don’t have to judge her or her actions. After all, you never seemed to have judged mine, and if you want to know why I’m here, I think it’s because of that.”

He looked at me. “Oh, I judged you all right. I was so upset with you — you have no idea. But underneath all my upset, I had faith, faith that somehow you would recover and life would all work out. That belief was unshakeable. It’s kept me going, and here we are today talking to each other.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad someone believed in me. Personally, what little faith I had in myself evaporated when I left. I held myself responsible. It took a long time to recover. I appreciate and thank you for your unabated confidence in me.”

“You’re welcome.” Johnny looked back at the painting. There was just the sound of the fire.

“I propose a toast,” I said, interrupting the quiet.

“A toast?”

“To faith, the universal solvent of all logic and rational thought.” I raised my glass.

“To faith, the unending source of relentless persistence,” replied Johnny, raising his.

Our glasses clinked again.

At that moment, Stanley opened the doors to the dining room. The long table was set for us and lit by two gigantic silver candelabras.

“Dinner is served. You may bring your drinks, or leave them. I have decanted a very nice Pétrus, should you choose to start afresh.”

Johnny looked at me, swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp, and said, “I’m for the Pétrus.”

I did the same but placed my glass with a sip left on the table next to the picture of Alice as a token of my esteem and an offering for her continued protection. In this house, I felt better covering all the bases. I followed Johnny into the dining room and seated myself opposite him.

Robert’s black eyes followed us, but he remained by the fire.

Simon entered with two bowls of consommé from behind a Chinese screen that hid the passage to the kitchen. Stanley busied himself with the wine, while Johnny and I sampled the soup.

Dinner moved from course to course as Johnny and I chatted.

After finishing, and gaining at least five pounds in the process, we thanked Dagmar, Stanley, Simon, and Jane for their efforts. The dinner had been superb.

Stanley said, “Gentlemen, I have laid out some port and brandy on the side table in the library. I will join you in twenty minutes.”

Johnny and I, with Robert following, passed down the hall to the library. It was only slightly smaller than the drawing room. Three of the four walls were covered by floor-to-ceiling shelving, filled with books of all sorts. The wall facing the door had drapes that were closed for the night. Behind them, french windows looked out toward the sweep of lawn at the back of the house. We poured ourselves some port and lit up two Montecristos while we waited for Stanley.

About twenty minutes later, Stanley slipped in. He held a leather case in his hand, the size of a diary.

“I hate to disturb you now that you are sitting down, but I would rather we move to her ladyship’s sitting room. It is rarely used, but I would feel more comfortable sitting there than here, where I often serve. It is hard for me to stop being a butler, you understand. The story I have to tell is long. If you both will follow me…Bring the port if you will, as well as the humidor. I will sample both to make sure the house is living up to its standards of excellence,” he said with a thin smile.

Johnny and I got up and carried our glasses and cigars. I brought the decanter and an extra glass while Johnny took the humidor. We passed out of the library to the west wing, where Alice had resided. Robert’s toenails clicked on the marble floor as we entered. The apartment consisted of a large, well-lit sitting room and a separate bedroom with a bath and walk-in closet that was entered through a connecting door. As we seated ourselves, Stanley lit the fire. There was a low black-lacquer table, a couch, and two comfortable chairs at either end. The theme of the room was gray, done up in subdued elegance. Alice’s long Louis XIV desk in dark mahogany and ebony was set in front of the window whose drapes had been drawn for the night. The carpet was unusually thick. Johnny sat in one of the chairs while I relaxed on the couch. Once the fire was burning brightly, Stanley turned off the lights, so only the glow of the fire lit the room. I handed him a glass while Johnny opened the humidor. The case he placed on the table. Robert stretched out by the fire and closed his eyes.

“Gentlemen, now that we are settled, I am sure you have questions, but before I answer them, I thought I would tell you the story of her ladyship from the time I first met her. I have always referred to her as ‘her ladyship’ because of her first marriage to Lord Bromley. What I will tell you should satisfy your curiosity and give you some of the context you seek.

“In addition, I have chosen to put aside my butler duties for the night and sit down as a normal soul. Starting tomorrow, the rest of the family will be arriving, along with guests, and I will have neither the time nor the inclination to discuss what I am about to relate. Tonight is all we have.

“Lastly, whatever I say is between us. What you do with the information is up to you, but as far as I am concerned, we never talked. Agreed?”

Johnny and I voiced our assent. Stanley cleared his throat and began.

“I first met her ladyship in England just after she had married Lord Bromley. We met in London at her suite at the Connaught Hotel where she and her new husband were staying before journeying to North America. She offered me a position as head butler. His lordship was not in attendance, a point that troubled me, but which was happily eclipsed by the warmth with which I was received.

“She informed me that she and Lord Bromley would be moving to New York and that part of my duties would include opening up and maintaining this estate and her ladyship’s apartment in the city. Both had been closed since the death of her mother.

“I asked whether in addition they would be keeping Lord Bromley’s estate in Shropshire. She told me no. She had hired an independent accounting firm to do an analysis of Lord Bromley’s situation. The firm had deemed it not only prudent but necessary to liquidate the property in its entirety to cover the various taxes and legal entanglements that had dogged Lord Bromley for some time. Unfortunately for him, his estate was too small to be profitable and too expensive to be run continuously at a loss. They would move to the United States instead.

“I then inquired when I would be interviewing with Lord Bromley so that I might meet with his approval. At this suggestion, there was a pause. She said quite carefully that all financial matters, including the hiring of staff, were in her hands. The trustees that handled and oversaw her assets were confident in her dealings, and if need be, she could be as frugal as any Scotsman.

“Here she poked fun at my Scottish accent, which was more pronounced at the time. She smiled at me and by doing so, vanquished any hesitation I had in making my decision to accept her employment.

“In those days, I must admit, I was a bit more impetuous than I am now. I considered that my favorable impression of her ladyship was sufficient grounds for taking the position and told her so. She shook my hand in the American way to seal the bargain.

“At another time, I might have had serious reservations.

“England in those days was a country whose government, heavy industries, and large estates were controlled almost exclusively by men. Not so in this case. Here, a woman signed the checks, hired the staff, and decided how to allocate resources. I also felt that she did not entirely trust her husband in financial matters. I could explain her behavior and his absence in no other way.

“Even more alarming was the conclusion that she must have been the one to insist that his lordship give up a patrimony that must have been in his family for generations. This may have been sound financial maneuvering, but as a foundation for a tranquil marriage, it was a risky venture.

“At best, the arrangement might make for a rocky start. At worst, the loss of the property might be such a wound to his lordship’s pride that no amount of time could heal it. Violence and hatred might become his only means to restore his dignity.

“Although I did consider these things in a vague sort of way, there was nothing to be done. She had won me over completely, and that was that. On looking back, I think a little more thought at the time might have prepared me for what was to follow.”

At this juncture, he paused and took a drag of his cigar and a sip of port. He then got up to stir the fire and sat back down, as if he was debating how best to continue.

“I was to start immediately. My employer at the time had agreed to let me go if I should be accepted in the position, so I found myself awaiting my first meeting with Lord Bromley with both curiosity and trepidation. In service, at that time, there were whole networks of butlers, coachmen, chauffeurs, maids, cooks, and staff who were devoted to collecting the latest information regarding the leading families.

“My sources told me to expect a man of prickly disposition and accustomed to getting his way. He had attended Eton and then Oxford, where he excelled at sports, particularly rugby, but little else. He loved fast cars and airplanes, considered himself to be devilishly handsome, and thought himself the smartest person in the room. He enjoyed gambling at cards and was known as a lady’s man. There were also rumblings of a dark and sinister side, but as to what exactly, no one could say with any precision, other than they had heard rumors.

“We met the following day again at the Connaught. Her ladyship was not present. The information I had did not prepare me for the overpowering charisma and charm of the man. I was no longer surprised that her ladyship had fallen for him. I doubted anyone would be safe once he had made up his mind that he wanted them, be they male or female. I don’t know why or how I got that impression, but I did. There was a sexual magnetism about him that was almost palpable. He balanced this with a grace and ease of communication that was so masterful that I wondered if I had misread him. We got along famously, and I ended up speaking far more about myself than I had expected.

“It was at the end of the interview that he received a note from the concierge delivered by a bellman. He apologized, took out a platinum fountain pen as he read it, and began to write something on the note. I caught my breath in this interlude and observed him more closely.

“He was a tall man and extremely fit. His hair was black as jet, the same color as her ladyship’s, and longer than was the fashion. His eyes, like her ladyship’s, were so dark as to appear completely black. His skin was white and somewhat translucent. He was dressed immaculately in a charcoal-gray suit, white shirt, and club tie. He was the epitome of the English lord in manners, speech, and behavior.

“As I sat there, I became aware of the more carnivorous nature of the man. It was not my imagination. I was sitting down in front of a black panther who glanced at me every so often in relaxed disinterest while the tip of his tail in the form of a pen traveled this way and that as if of its own accord. He was a predator, and I knew it. I felt at once at ease yet filled with a nameless dread. There would be no bars separating us.

“I knew then and there that if he decided I was prey, I would be eaten. It would not be personal. Such lethality was both spellbinding and hypnotic.

“At that moment, her ladyship slipped into the room and perched herself on the arm of his chair. She encircled his shoulders with her arms as they chatted about the note his lordship had received. I relaxed as I watched. They were supremely well matched. Their beauty together and their palpable and obvious love for each other was something to behold. I was their head butler, and I decided that I was well pleased.

“Unfortunately, that equanimity was not to last.”

Stanley paused again in the narrative as he drank his port and smoked his cigar. Johnny and I sat back and waited for him to continue. I shivered, thinking that this was just the type of tale to be told on a rainy night in a dark room lit only by a fire. Stanley’s voice started again.

“We traveled to America aboard the Queen Mary and arrived in New York. From there I traveled to Rhinebeck to survey what would be required to open the house. After I made my report, I was given approval to make the extensive changes and repairs.

“It was not until the couple returned after about half a year to take up residence permanently that I felt something was amiss.

“There were two points that troubled me. The first was that her ladyship was unusually quiet. I thought that this might be the result of their not producing an heir, but this did not seem to answer why she seemed almost cowed. I observed that his lordship would ask her to do something and that she would immediately hop to it. The smile that had so captivated me had disappeared.

“The second was the trunk. It was an extraordinarily heavy and well-made affair that his lordship insisted be kept at the foot of their bed. I did not know what to make of it.”

Stanley poured some more port and continued.

“They were rarely alone. They either had houseguests or they traveled to New York during the week. One night in particular, there was just the two of them. They had dined and had moved to the library, where they began to argue.

“The servants had been sent to bed. I was the only one in attendance and remained in the hallway. The argument must have begun civilly enough, because I could hear nothing from outside the door. But by the end, the disagreement had escalated into a notable altercation. They screamed and yelled at each other for at least an hour, eventually devolving into cursing each other in various languages. The things they said to each other were violent and cruel. I could do nothing.

“Eventually, his lordship yelled that he’d had enough and that her ladyship was to be taught another lesson. I heard her ladyship scream, ‘No!’ when the door to the library burst open and slammed against the stop. I quickly ducked into a doorway.

“I heard him drag her down the hall, across the foyer, and up the stairs. She struggled, but it was no use against such a powerful man. I heard their bedroom door slam and then silence. I went into the library to collect the glasses and coffee cups, muttering to myself that my place was not to interfere. Such words did nothing to erase the shame I felt for having done nothing. Later, I soothed my conscience by deciding to speak to her ladyship, even if what I had to say cost me my position.

“I did not see her the next morning and asked her maid how her ladyship was feeling. She said she would be staying in her room for now. His lordship came down for breakfast in high spirits, announcing with his dazzling smile that he would be staying at his club in the city for a few days and returning on Friday.

“After he had left for town, I climbed the stairs to confront my employer. I knocked on the door and asked if I might have a word. I was refused, but I persisted until I was let in. I would not be denied.

“The room was darkened, and her ladyship was sitting on the floor with her legs outstretched, leaning back against the far side of the bed.

“I could see the top of her head. She asked what was so important, not even bothering to look at me. I answered that if she wished to dismiss me after what I was about to say, that was her prerogative, but I was not about to stand by and see her ladyship manhandled by anyone, even his lordship, ever again.

“She said softly that there was nothing I could do. I disagreed. We went back and forth. But I can be quite forceful and persistent when I have made up my mind. I told her that she needed someone in her corner. I was that person, but we would not discuss the matter in her bedroom. She needed to get dressed and meet me in the study where there would be coffee waiting, as well as something stronger. To this, she agreed and promised to meet me in thirty minutes.

“She arrived looking pale but presentable. I served her coffee. She added a splash of brandy and sat down. She told me that she had made a decision but was uncertain exactly how to proceed. She understood my feelings but thought it best that I hear what led up to the current disturbance in full, before going any further. According to her, she had no one to blame but herself. She would not look at me as she spoke of the events leading to the night in question but stared steadily out the window as she spoke.

“Their life together had started out wonderfully. They were so in love. Life could not have been better; at least, that was her impression. She had known his lordship needed money. He had been upfront about this from the beginning. Nonetheless, her finance people were alarmed. She thought the state of affairs was fairly simple. She wanted a title, and if he needed money, that was the cost of doing business. Titles were paid for all the time. The trustees understood this easily enough and were quite content to go ahead with an arrangement if that was all that was required, but there were other troubling indications as well. They had done some checking.

“Lord Bromley had recently been asked not to visit Brook’s in London due to concerns about his card-playing. Although he had not been asked to resign his membership, various private sources had confirmed that there had been a peculiar string of good luck in his favor and a corresponding string of bad luck against a member of the Court of Directors of the Bank of England. There was insufficient evidence to accuse him of cheating, but the laws of probability had been stretched far enough to warrant a prohibition.

“Additionally, there were stories that he dabbled in what could only be characterized as mesmerism or hypnotism of some sort. He appeared to have some power over women whereby they did whatever he asked.

“If there was any truth to these allegations, the trustees felt the match should not go forward. If for some reason she still thought she should, then their duty was to place a limit on the total amount of expenditure that would be authorized for a period of at least two years. The trustees advised her that this was to remain between her ladyship and themselves as a fail-safe, should she be coerced into authorizing expenses that, although she could well afford them, were deemed unsuitable.

“Her ladyship confronted him with these issues.

“His lordship admitted that he saw the member mentioned in the card incident as a pigeon ripe for the plucking. He needed funds. Cheating had not been necessary — the man had been that inept. And as to his supposed supernatural powers over women, he claimed the story was a complete fabrication. He had heard the rumors and had done nothing to discredit them, as they served him. Such supernatural tales had done wonders in backing off his creditors, of which he had more than a few.

“Gradually, she allowed herself to be persuaded that the reports were the result of misunderstanding rather than fact and that the source of all of Lord Bromley’s difficulties was the financial morass he had inherited when his father died.

“She went back to the trustees and wrangled an agreement to allow one of her many trusts to cover the balance of his debts, but only after his estate was sold. Everyone was in agreement.

“They married.

“The wedding was a success, and all seemed well.

“She told me they were in Tuscany when his behavior took a peculiar turn.

“One morning, a large trunk arrived for him at the villa where they were staying. His lordship had two men place it in a corner of their bedroom. When she asked why it was there rather than in a storeroom, he said that it was a work of art made for him in Germany to his specifications. He found it beautiful, and other than its aesthetic value, it served no purpose at this time. Such behavior seemed to her eccentric, bordering on the bizarre. Not wanting to disturb their harmony, she agreed.

“One morning, her ladyship was called to the telephone by the majordomo. His lordship was out riding and couldn’t be reached. On the line was the accountant of the owner of the villa they were vacationing at. He wanted to know the name and address of her bank, so he could present the bill for their stay.

“Her ladyship said she was confused. Her husband had extolled the owner’s generosity on allowing them to stay at his estate for a month for free. It had been a wedding present.

“To clear the matter up, she asked for and received the owner’s telephone number in Rome. She reached him, and after a great deal of histrionics on both sides, the truth was finally revealed.

“The accountant had been ordered to speak only with his lordship and no one else. He was to have gotten the address of her ladyship’s bank in New York so that he could submit a bill for the stay. She was not to know anything about it. In addition, the owner and his lordship had struck a deal whereby the accountant would bill triple the cost and remit half to his lordship’s bank in London upon receipt. Since this was their honeymoon, the bill would be mistaken for that of a hotel and be paid without a second thought.

“By the time his lordship returned, her ladyship was outraged. Why do this when if he needed money, all he had to do was ask? She met him coming up the stairs and confronted him with the deception. His lordship smiled at her, and everything changed in an instant.

“He struck her across the mouth with the flat of his hand. Her ladyship fell back on the stairs, stunned. He said to her softly, ‘Do not defy me. You are mistaken.’ She shook her head and attempted to reply, when he reached back and struck her again. Once more he said, ‘You are mistaken, aren’t you?’

“She shook her head, only this time he grabbed her wrist and dragged her up the stairs to their room. He whispered to her as he pulled her along, ‘I was hoping I would not have to resort to this, but I see you need to be taught a lesson.’ He unlocked the trunk that lay in the corner of the room and proceeded to strip her naked. She struggled to get away, but he was the stronger. He dumped her in and closed the lid. The trunk had been for her.

“How long he left her there, she did not know. A simple routine was repeated over and over. He would open the trunk and let her out in the darkened room, so there was no way to judge the time. He gave her water and a small amount of food. He let her relieve herself, and then he would lock her back inside. She tried to escape, but that was impossible. He was always there to ensure she didn’t. Time ceased to have any meaning. There was only the trunk, the darkness, and her isolation.

“Inside, there was no sound. Her thoughts would fly wildly one way and then the other. She was sure she was going insane. She wept often. She called out, but nothing ever came of it. Her imprisonment continued. She slept. She woke. All she saw was black. She stank. She was alone. The ordeal continued with no respite.”

Stanley paused once again to let the magnitude of what he had said sink in. Johnny and I were speechless. Stanley took another drink to wet his throat and went on with the tale.

“At this point in her narrative, her ladyship stopped and turned to face me directly. She looked so anguished. I asked if she might wish to take a break, but she insisted we continue and that I listen carefully because what she was about to relate was likely to make me doubt her sanity and mental competence. After I agreed to listen and make no prejudgment, she went on. She smiled bravely, and as she spoke, she looked me in the eye from time to time to see whether my regard for her had been replaced by something less. I kept my face impassive until she finished.

“She had been in the trunk for what seemed like days and days when she began to see strange lights. She knew she was beginning to hallucinate. The lights did not necessarily bother her, but when the people appeared, she felt she was poised on the edge of madness.

“By any measure, she thought her mind had broken, only it hadn’t. Her thoughts were clear. She knew who she was, where she was, and how she had gotten there. But she also knew she was no longer alone. She would catch glimpses of pale figures at the edges of her vision. They spoke to her and kept her company in the dark. Sometimes, what they said was unintelligible, as if in a foreign language, but at other times, she understood every word. They told her not to worry. She would survive. They said there would come a time when she could change her fate, but not now, not for a while. The first thing she must do was learn to breathe.

“To breathe in and out slowly and evenly. If she did this, they would stay with her for a time. They told her a little about themselves. They were ancient. Earlier cultures knew of them and spoke with them. Present-day cultures had no such pathways, except in the case of indigenous people, who retained their old ways. They said she didn’t have to believe in them. She simply needed to trust. They told her that she would be released, but she was to agree to whatever she was told to do. Fighting back would come later. They asked her to think of herself as a raft being carried by a current and floating down a river.

“At this point, she was barely alive and beyond caring. Whoever, or whatever, they were, real or imagined, she was, at the least, not alone. They had provided her a support she needed most desperately. She agreed to do what they said and thanked them. As suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone. Where they went, what they were, she couldn’t say.

“Shortly after, her husband let her out. Weak as she was, she felt relaxed and better than she had in a very long time, as if she had awoken from a deep sleep. When his lordship asked her if she had made a mistake, she readily agreed. He asked that she write him a check for their stay. She said yes. Life went on. They visited places. They saw friends. She went with the flow. She stuck to her agreement, but on the night of the quarrel that I had observed, she defied him once again, and with good reason.

“He had demanded that she sell Rhinebeck, and she had refused. They fought. He had told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted her to experience what she had made him do — sell that which was most dear to her. Because of her recalcitrance, he had locked her in the trunk to break her once again.

“This time, the people did not come. She was alone but not afraid. She was able to breathe and to think. She realized she did not need them to keep her company. The time had come for her to do something about her situation. In the dark, she made a plan.

“In the morning, he let her out and once again asked if she would sell Rhinebeck. She told him she would if he wanted. She acted subdued, and he believed her. He was so pleased, he immediately left for New York to draw up the papers.

“‘So, here I am,’ she told me. ‘What are we to do? Even though I said I would do what he demanded, I have absolutely no intention of selling a thing. I am finished with him, with his trunk, with his abuse, with everything. I feel like murdering somebody, and I will give you three guesses as to who that might be.’”

The fire gave a loud pop, and sparks flew up the chimney.