Danielle Steel: A Good Woman

He mentioned that he was going to Newport in July, as he always did. He had a simple, comfortable house there. Josiah was originally from Boston, from a family as respectable as their own, and with even more money. He led a quiet life anyway, and was never showy about it. He promised to come and visit them again in Newport, and Consuelo said she’d like that. After he left, Annabelle noticed that he had brought a large bouquet of white lilacs that had already been put in a vase. Consuelo commented about him after he left.

“He’s really a very nice man,” Consuelo said quietly, admiring the lilac. “Your father liked him a lot, and I can see why. I wonder why he never married.”

“Some people don’t,” Annabelle said, looking unconcerned. “Not everyone has to get married, Mama,” she added with a smile. She was beginning to wonder if she was going to be one of those. She couldn’t imagine leaving her mother now, to go off with a man. She wouldn’t want to leave Consuelo alone. And it didn’t seem like a tragedy to her if she didn’t marry. It would have been to Hortie, but not to her. With her father and brother gone, and her mother shaken to her core, Annabelle felt she had more important responsibilities at home, and didn’t resent it for a moment. Caring for her mother gave purpose to her life.

“If you’re telling me you don’t want to get married,” her mother correctly read her mind, as she often did, “you can forget about that right now. We are going to do our year of mourning, as is proper, and then we’re going to find you a husband. That’s what your father would want.”

Annabelle turned to face her seriously then. “Daddy wouldn’t want me to leave you alone,” she said as firmly as any parent.

Consuelo shook her head. “That’s nonsense and you know it. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” But as she said it, her eyes filled with tears again, and her daughter was not convinced.

“We’ll see about that,” Annabelle said firmly, and swept out of the room, to organize a tea tray to be taken up to Consuelo’s room. When she returned, she put her arm around her mother, gently escorted her upstairs for a nap, and settled her on her bed, the bed she had shared with the husband she had loved and who was gone, which broke Consuelo’s heart.

“You’re much too good to me, my love,” she said, looking embarrassed.

“No, I’m not,” Annabelle said brightly. She was the only remaining ray of sunshine in the house. She brought her mother nothing but joy. And each was all the other had left. There were just the two of them now. She pulled a light shawl over Consuelo, and went back downstairs to read in the garden, hoping her mother would feel up to going back to the hospital the next day. It was the only distraction Annabelle had, and gave her something to do that was important to her.

She could hardly wait to go to Newport the following month.

Chapter 3

Annabelle and her mother left for Newport a month earlier than usual, in June. It was beautiful that time of year, and as they always did, the staff had gone ahead to open the house. Usually, the social season in Newport was dazzling, but this year they were planning a very quiet life. People could visit them at the house, but two months after her father and brother’s deaths there was no way that Annabelle and her mother could go out. The now-familiar black ribbons were put on the front door in Newport, to indicate their state of mourning.

There were a number of families in the same situation in Newport that year, including the Astors. Madeleine Astor, who had lost her husband John Jacob on the Titanic, was expecting her baby in August. The tragedy had hit the New York social world hard, since it was the maiden voyage, and so many society types and aristocrats had been on the ship. And continuing news of the ineptitude of the crew getting people off the boat was increasingly disturbing. Almost all the lifeboats had left half empty. Some men had forced their way into them with the women and children. And almost no one from steerage had been saved. There were going to be official hearings about it in time.

Newport was extremely quiet in June, but started to liven up as people from Boston and New York began to arrive and fill their “cottages” in July. For the uninitiated, what people called cottages in Newport were actually mansions of mammoth proportions anywhere else. They were houses with ballrooms, enormous chandeliers, marble floors, priceless antique furniture, and spectacular gardens, bordering on the sea. It was a remarkable community made up of the scions of society from the entire East Coast, a watering hole for the very rich. The Worthingtons were right at home there. Their cottage was one of the largest and loveliest in town.

Annabelle started to have fun once Hortie arrived. They sneaked off to the sea together, went for walks, and Hortie’s fiancé James often joined them for picnics on the lawn. Now and then he brought friends, which was fun for Annabelle, and her mother pretended she didn’t notice. As long as they didn’t go to parties, she had no objection to Annabelle seeing young people. She was such a good person and so devoted to her mother, she deserved it. Consuelo wondered if any of James’s friends, or Robert’s old pals, would spark Annabelle’s interest. She was increasingly worried that the year of mourning would impact Annabelle’s fate forever. Since the Christmas season, when all the girls had come out, six of the young women in Annabelle’s age group had gotten engaged. And Annabelle wasn’t going to meet anyone staying at home with her mother. After the past two months, she already seemed older and more mature than the others. Something like that could frighten young men away. And more than anything, her mother wanted her to get married. Annabelle continued to be unconcerned and was happy to see Hortie and the others, but none of the men was of even the slightest interest to her.

Josiah Millbank came to see them once he arrived in July too. He never failed to bring a gift with him when he visited, flowers in the city, and in Newport, either fruit or candy. He spent hours talking to Consuelo, as they sat together on the wide porch in rocking chairs, and after his third visit, Annabelle teased her about it.

“I think he likes you, Mama,” she said, smiling.

“Don’t be silly.” Consuelo blushed at the suggestion. The last thing she wanted was a suitor. She intended to remain faithful to her husband’s memory forever, and said so to anyone who would listen. She was not one of those widows who was looking for a husband, although she wanted one desperately for Annabelle. “He’s just being kind to us,” Consuelo added firmly, convinced of what she was saying. “He’s younger than I am anyway, and if he’s interested in anyone, it’s you.” Although she had to admit, there was no evidence of it. He seemed to be equally comfortable talking to mother or daughter, and he was never flirtatious, just friendly.

“He’s not interested in me, Mama,” Annabelle confirmed with a broad grin, “and he’s only five years younger than you are. I think he’s a very nice person. And he’s old enough to be my father.”

“Lots of girls your age marry men his age,” her mother said quietly. “He’s not that old, for heaven’s sake. I think he’s only thirty-eight, if I remember correctly.”

“He’s much better for you.” Annabelle laughed and ran off with Hortie. It was a hot, sunny day and they wanted to go swimming, and James had promised to come over later. There was a big party planned at the Schuylers’ that night, which James and Hortie and all their friends were going to, although Annabelle of course couldn’t. She wouldn’t have dreamed of asking her mother, and didn’t want to upset her.