Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child
"We intend to be married within a week."
"A week!" I couldn't help my exclamation. "But it's been less than two months since Randolph's death," I cried.
Like a tender flower without the admiration of rain to nourish her faith in herself, Mother wilted before me.
"I knew it," she moaned. "I knew she would say something like that. I just knew it! My happiness means nothing to you, does it, Dawn?"
"Well, how can you expect me to say anything else?"
I looked up at Bronson and then turned back to Mother. "How can you do this so soon after Randolph's death?"
"You of all people should know, Dawn," she replied coldly, "that my marriage to Randolph was not much of a marriage anyway. He was married to his mother, her every shadow, her every word. You don't know how much I suffered," she added, her throat choking and her eyes filling with tears and quickly overflowing in streams down her dainty cheeks.
"Now Laura Sue, don't," Bronson chided gently, putting his glass of sherry down and going to her. He sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.
"Well, she doesn't know. She hates me because she doesn't know what I went through." She looked up at him, gazing into his eyes through her tears now.
Bronson turned to me, his eyes showing such intensity and purpose, it made my breath catch and a lump come into my throat.
"Perhaps," he said, "it's time she knew it all, then." Mother looked up sharply, fear shadowing her face. Bronson patted her hand.
"It's time, Laura Sue," he repeated.
"I just can't," Mother cried. "It's too painful for me even to think about and remember these things, much less talk about them anymore," she pleaded, and she shook her head vigorously.
"Then let me," Bronson said. "If possible, I don't want any hard feelings among us—not now, not at the beginning of a new start. I want us to all feel like family."
Mother closed her eyes and sucked in her breath. Then she pulled herself to her feet.
"Do what must be done," she said. "I'm exhausted and too upset to listen. I want to go back to the hotel," she said.
"All right," Bronson said. "Perhaps James will escort you, and Dawn can stay here and talk. I'll send her home with my car and driver."
"Sure,″ Jimmy said, rising.
"Jimmy should hear anything that has to be said, too," I declared. Jimmy stepped in front of me and leaned down to whisper.
"Maybe he wants to talk to you alone, Dawn. Maybe he'll be uncomfortable with another man listening. You can fill me in later." He squeezed my hand reassuringly and then turned and nodded to Bronson and Mother.
"Thank you, Bronson," Mother said, relieved. "It was a wonderful evening, and I would like to keep it that way in my storehouse of memories." She flashed a smile at me. Randolph escorted her and Jimmy out.
Moments later he returned, sat down across from me, crossed his legs, lifted his glass of sherry to his lips and began.
7
MORE SECRETS FROM THE PAST
"FIRST I SHOULD TELL YOU A LITTLE ABOUT MYSELF," BRONSON said, "so that you will be able to better understand how and why events unfolded as they did."
That charming yet provocative smile left his face, and his manner turned very intense as he leaned forward to lock his eyes with mine.
"I was born into money and position and had a rather comfortable childhood. My father was a firm man who came from hardy stock, but my mother was a very warm and devoted person, devoted to my father, devoted to her children and devoted to the Alcott image.
"Right from the start, both Alexandria and I were taught how important that image was. We were made to understand that we had a responsibility to maintain our high standing. We were told that people looked up to us, that we were, in a sense, the new ruling class of the South. We had money and power—power to affect other people's lives.
"As an investor and a banker, my father controlled the destinies of many. In short, I was brought up believing I was some sort of prince, and some day I would inherit my father's throne and rule in the Alcott tradition."
He leaned back, templing his fingers under his chin a moment, and then smiled.
"It was all a bit overdramatized, but as it is with most people of some position and wealth, they began to believe their own publicity. Father certainly did.
"Anyway," he continued, his eyes somewhat wistful now, "as I told you, Alexandria was born with a crippling ailment. Because of that and because of how self-important we were made to feel, she became more
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