Part 26 (1/2)
When William left again, the rest of the world came knocking.
As Victor and I sat on the porch or in the side yard, I saw the wagons come. There was a regularity to them, at least one a day, loaded down with trunks and boxes, with women who waved at me and men who tipped their hats. The cards began to make their appearance, sent by servants to announce arrivals; they rested in a pile on the silver salver in the foyer. The early time, the alone time, was over so soon. I cursed myself for not coming earlier, for not finding weeks alone with Victor instead of only days. But William never would have allowed that, so I resigned myself to the ending of idyllic hours.
The first supper was at Millicent's. She had been coming to Newport only the last two years, and her husband had bought a house farther down Bellevue Avenue-a ten-room cottage they were busily adding onto and redecorating.
The regular crowd was still small and intimate, so Millie had invited a faster set as well. They were a welcome diversion now, before August brought Caroline Astor and her social watchdogs. Twenty or so of us gathered that night in Millie's sea- motifed dining room, and I was aware every moment of where Victor was in the room; it took all my will to keep from monopolizing him, touching him, showing them all that he belonged to me. I was distracted enough that I found it hard to listen to Alma Fister as she leaned close to me at the table.
”I could hardly bring her with me,” she was saying in a loud whisper. ”She insisted that she be allowed to go back to the city once a week to take her wages to her mother. How could I possibly allow such a thing? I mean, really, how important can a few cents be? I've half a mind to let her go as it is-the way she looks at me is so impudent. I can hardly give her an order that she isn't mocking me with her eyes. But you know how difficult it is to get a good servant, and she does my hair so wonderfully.”
”Perhaps she only wants a few hours to herself,” I said.
Alma looked at me as if I'd just committed heresy. Her dark brows rose high, accenting the odd contrast between them and her rapidly graying hair. ”Why, she's a servant, Lucy. She'll take what hours I choose to give her. And I simply can't afford to lend her the time. What with all the promenades and parties, I need someone constantly to attend to my hair.”
”You could forgo one or two hours. I expect it would hardly make a difference. You might even find you like it. I've taken several hours for myself. Just to sit idly on the beach is invigo-rating.”
”Have you?” Alma's blue gaze darted down the table. ”How do you manage to do that with a guest about?”
She had looked to where Victor sat, not far away, engaged in conversation with Millicent. I smiled patiently. ”Victor spends much of his time engrossed in his work, I'm afraid. I've tried to convince him to go out himself, but he claims he came here for peace and quiet.”
”A pity William doesn't find his way here more often. He could take Victor out to the Reading Room or the Casino.”
”Yes, but William's quite busy. It's a wonder he's managed to be here every weekend.”
”It's so hard for them to get away,” Alma commiserated. ”Gerald complains of it often.” Alma's husband usually spent his weekends not at his summer estate with his wife and her friends, who searched constantly for the next amus.e.m.e.nt, but anch.o.r.ed in the bay, watching the goings-on from his yacht, the Mary Dare.
Alma whispered, ”You would think Steven Breckenwood would at least attempt to do the same.” She glanced at Julia Breckenwood, who sat a short distance away, and whose presence made me anxious-I had not forgotten William's words regarding her and Victor-and wrinkled her nose. ”Poor Julia. Everyone knows he's been seeing that little actress. It's quite scandalous. We must do what we can to keep Julia occupied this summer.”
There was laughter at the end of the table. Victor was smiling in that diffident way he had. I heard him say, ”Mesmer was interested primarily in magnetic energy.”
”Oh yes, I've read all about it,” Leonard Ames-one of the few men at the table and well known as Alma's Newport monkey-spoke eagerly. He took a sip of his wine. ”Something about some energy fluid that runs through the body, isn't it? Didn't he use magnets to direct it? Quite fascinating, really. Is that what you do, Victor? Have you your magnets? Perhaps we can try it out.”
”It's not the same thing at all,” Victor said impatiently. ”There was nothing scientific about it. Human magnetism has nothing to do with hypnosis-nor, for that matter, does celestial magnetism.”
Alma frowned. ”Celestial magnetism?”
”A kind of spiritualism, I gather,” Leonard put in. ”Can you summon the dead, Victor? Let's have a seance.”
”And wake them from their graves?” Victor asked wryly. ”Leave that to the charlatans. I've nothing to do with it.”
”Then what do you do?” Alma asked. ”I'm afraid I don't understand.”
”Hypnotism is simply a form of sleep,” Victor explained sharply, ”where a suggestion is made to the unconscious mind to modify behavior.”
Leonard leaned forward eagerly, slos.h.i.+ng droplets of wine on the tablecloth. ”You mean that if I were having trouble sleeping, you could make a suggestion that I sleep and I would?”
”It depends on the strength of your will,” Victor said. ”But yes, essentially.”
”You mean you take over someone's will?”
”It's not possible with everyone; but in some cases, yes.”
”You could make me do anything you wanted me to do?” Leonard poured more wine. ”Could you make me do something like, well . . .”
”He's terribly shy, really,” Millie said, and everyone laughed. ”Could you make him do something truly outrageous?”
”Probably.” Victor eyed Leonard speculatively.
”Oh, please, try,” Leonard said. ”Show me how this hypnosis works.”
”Will you, Victor?” Alma asked.
”It's not a parlor game,” Victor said.
”Well, of course,” Millie put in. ”But perhaps seeing it would explain it to us a little better. And it's been such a dull week. I'm sure we could all use some amus.e.m.e.nt.”
It surprised me when he considered it. They were all sitting forward, as if by the very pressure of their movement they could get him to agree. I found myself urging him as well. He was a brilliant man, and I wanted them to understand him. I wanted them to think of him as I did. When he looked at me, I nodded and said, ”Perhaps you can make them understand.”
He set down his goblet. ”Very well,” he said, ”but I must remind you that this isn't a game.”
”Take me first.” Leonard stood, spreading his arms as if sacrificing himself. ”I've a longing to see how it feels to have no will.”
”I would have thought you'd already know what that feels like,” Julia said.
The rest of the table laughed, as did Leonard. ”Well, then, to see what it feels like to have someone else's.” He widened his eyes. ”I shall be a new creature. Like Frankenstein's monster.”
Victor stood. ”Perhaps someone less dramatic,” he said. ”Perhaps Julia?”
All eyes went to her. Julia set down her napkin, licking her lips with a little nervousness. Her expression was reproachful, even petulant, but she smiled and said, ”Of course,” and rose against Leonard's loud protests.
”Do you have a comfortable chair, Millie?” Victor asked.
”In the parlor.” Millie got to her feet, ushering us all from the dining room. They followed Victor like rats after the Pied Piper, seduced by his charisma, as I had been. We went from the dining room into the first parlor, which also was decorated in a sea theme, with settees and chairs of aqua silk, gla.s.s jars of sh.e.l.ls, wallpaper flocked in shades of sand. Victor motioned Julia to the settee and pulled a chair opposite her in a formation that reminded me of his office. I knew what Julia was feeling as he sat across from her, and I saw with a small shock that it was familiar to her as well. She seemed comfortable and calm, as if she knew what was going to happen. I felt a keen stab of jealousy. I wondered why he had not chosen me.
”Everyone must be quiet,” he said, keeping his gaze on Julia, who blushed beneath it. ”It cannot work if you aren't.”
”Silent as the tomb,” Leonard said, putting a finger to his lips, and there were nervous giggles and a few hushes. When the room was quiet, Victor began.
I had only ever been the victim of that gaze, and I watched with a kind of repulsed fascination as Victor took Julia's thumbs in his fingers and began to speak in a quiet, singsong voice. ”Look at me, Julia, and think only of going to sleep. How you long for it. How good it will feel to close your eyes. Your eyelids are growing heavy. Heavier. Your eyes are very tired.”
Julia's eyes began to redden.
”Yes, that's it. Your eyelids are flickering, your eyes are watering. Your vision is blurring. You want to close your eyes. Sleep is all you long for. Yes, close your eyes.”
Her eyes were tearing now. When he said the final words, she closed her eyes in obvious relief. I had known that relief once, the first time he'd put me into a trance. Since then, I had never needed such a ceremony. My fingers curled about my wrist. There was a murmur from someone, quickly hushed. Victor did not take his gaze from Julia.
”You will no longer feel anything. Your hands are motionless, you see nothing more. You are sleeping. Sleeping.” His voice trailed off in a whisper.