“No, please don’t. You don’t need to apologize, Mrs. Chandler. Eileen is naturally very tense at this time. It’s much more important to understand the underlying-”
He was interrupted by a crash from the upstairs hall, followed by renewed sobbing.
“Was there by any chance a mirror in the upstairs hall?”
Amanda nodded grimly. “There was.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
EILEEN’S FAILURE to appear at dinner was attributed to her fatigue from painting. The family ate at six, which Elizabeth considered unusually early, but no one else seemed to think it was strange.
Amanda, apparently under the impression that two doctors would be ideal dinner companions, had placed Carlsen Shepherd next to her husband, but Dr. Chandler’s monologue on colonial medicine seemed less than successful as a conversational gambit.
“What do you think is really the matter?” Elizabeth whispered to Geoffrey, who was sitting next to her.
“I don’t know. I tapped on her door, but she howled at me to go away. I expect she’d let Satisky in, but he seems to have an aversion to hysterical females, even if he’s engaged to one.”
Across the table, Satisky was cutting his meat with studied concentration. His movements were slow and cautious, as though he were trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
“He seems like a nice guy. Dr. Shepherd, I mean.”
Geoffrey continued to stare at Satisky.
“And, Geoffrey, she did invite him herself.”
“Maybe Mother’s right about wedding nerves,” said Geoffrey.
Alban had not been asked to dinner, but had phoned to say that he would be over later. Elizabeth hoped she would have a chance to talk to him; maybe things would make sense to him.
Amanda had abandoned her role of effusive Southern hostess, and spent most of the meal conversing with Captain Grandfather in a quiet undertone. She ate very little and excused herself early, pleading that she had a headache.
Elizabeth found the tension annoying, so she left the table soon after Amanda did, and went upstairs to Eileen’s room. The door was locked.
“Eileen?” she called, knocking gently. “It’s Elizabeth.”
There was no sound from within. With a sigh, Elizabeth gave up and started to her own room. The empty frame of the mirror stood crookedly against the wall; the glass shards on the floor had already been cleared away by the unobtrusive Mildred. Elizabeth wondered why Eileen chose to hit the mirror: was it deliberate or did she simply lash out at the first thing she saw?
“Elizabeth?”
She turned. Eileen had opened her door partway and stood looking at Elizabeth with a pitiful expression.
“I came up to see if you were all right,” said Elizabeth.
Eileen’s eyes welled with tears. She peered anxiously toward the stairs as if she were afraid that someone else would see her. Impatiently she motioned to Elizabeth. When the door was safely shut behind them, Eileen sat on her bed and hugged a yellow stuffed bear, resting her chin on the top of its head. Elizabeth sat in a chair beside the dresser.
“Everybody is very worried about you,” she said in what she hoped was a sympathetic tone.
“I’ll bet they are! I know what they’re thinking!” Her voice quavered.
Oh, God, thought Elizabeth. If I set off another attack of hysterics, Aunt Amanda will tar and feather me. Soothingly, she said, “You’re just nervous because you’re getting married next week. You have all these plans to cope with, and you’ve been trying to finish that painting. I know what a strain it can be to have to finish something by a certain time. You’re wearing yourself out, aren’t you?”
Eileen looked thoughtful. “The painting. Yes, it has been quite a strain.”
“Of course it has!” said Elizabeth heartily. Eileen looked calmer now. She had put down the stuffed animal and was looking at Elizabeth with an expression of relief. I should have been a psych major, Elizabeth thought with a twinge of satisfaction. “You know, Eileen, I’m sure Michael would understand if you wanted to stop working on the painting until after the wedding.”
“No. It’s almost finished. I’ll be fine. Really. You’re right; I was just tired.”
“There’s no reason you wouldn’t want Dr. Shepherd here, is there?” asked Elizabeth doubtfully. Despite her success in calming Eileen, she still felt that hysterics and mirror-breaking were excessive reactions, even for a nervous bride.
“No, of course not. Dr. Shepherd is very kind. I’ll apologize to him tomorrow.”
“Look, Eileen. You’re worried about something. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“About what? Worrying? Oh yes I would! Do you realize that I’ve just graduated from college and haven’t the slightest idea what I’m going to do next?”
“Oh,” said Eileen faintly.
“I know I should have thought of that earlier, but I was sort-of-engaged to an architecture major named Austin. Did I tell you about Austin?”
Eileen shook her head. Good, thought Elizabeth, I’ve got her attention. She explained about Austin and the duck pond incident. Eileen actually began to smile when she heard that story, so Elizabeth went into great detail, describing Austin clambering out of the pond, dripping weeds.
“And I told him if he stayed in there long enough, he might have a
They began to laugh. “He was such a sight!” Elizabeth giggled. “I wish I had a picture of him coming out of that pond!”
Eileen’s smile faded. “Elizabeth, I’m not feeling well. I really think I need to be alone.”
“Well-sure, Eileen…” I wonder what I did to upset her this time? Elizabeth wondered as she closed the door behind her. Curiouser and curiouser.
It was too early for bed, so she went back downstairs to see if Alban had come over as he’d promised, or if Geoffrey were doing anything amusing. She heard voices coming from the library. Hoping that it might be one of them, she opened the door and peeked in.
Alban and Carlsen Shepherd were hunched over the table amidst a pile of papers. Shepherd was scribbling furiously on a small note pad, and Alban was saying, “I’ve been Ludwig of Bavaria for about four years now, and on the whole-”
“Oh, excuse me!” she blurted out. “I’ll go.”
Shepherd looked up and smiled. “No, it’s all right. Come on in. Nothing important. You’re welcome to sit in.”
Elizabeth tried to sort things out in her mind. Alban had “been” Ludwig of Bavaria-should she stay and hear the whole story or run? And why should she be permitted to sit in on a medical consultation?
“But-what about your psychiatrists’ rule about patient confidentiality?” she stammered. Surely they weren’t really going to allow her to listen to a description of Alban’s reincarnation delusions.
They stared at her, letting the question sink in. Shepherd’s face lit up in sudden comprehension, and he roared with laughter. “Patient confidentiality! Well, now you know what your family thinks of you, Cobb!”
Alban grinned. “I think I worried Elizabeth a bit this morning by mentioning reincarnation.”
Elizabeth wished they would stop laughing at her and start making sense. “Will you please tell me what is going on here?”
They exchanged smirks. “We’re discussing a war game, Cousin,” said Alban. “It’s called Diplomacy. Ever heard of it?”
“Only in connection with Camp David,” she sighed. “A game? You’re playing a game? You just met!” She might have known it would turn out to be another batty family hobby. The fact that Shepherd was familiar with it did not surprise her in the least, once she considered the matter.
