Bluebeard's Daughter by Marion Zimmer Bradley

Author:Marion Zimmer Bradley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gothic, romance
Publisher: Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust
Published: 2018-06-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

THERE IS NO PURPOSE in writing too much about that strange second trip I took with Philip. It was much like our wedding trip, at least at first. Wherever we went, I was registered in hotels, and introduced, as Philip’s daughter. We visited strange cities, and Philip took me to shops, to concerts, to fashionable restaurants, dressed, as I was, as a schoolgirl. And there were a few puzzling incidents.

In a French restaurant where Philip had introduced me to crepes Suzette, an old waiter, with a thick French accent, came up and smiled as we were finishing the dessert.

“Ah, Doctor. A younger daughter to be brought here? I remember Miss Judith so well, and how excited she was at the flaming brandy. This must be the baby of the family? Or a grandchild perhaps?”

I hardly heard what Philip said, but he was livid with rage as he struggled into his coat.

“Philip,” I remonstrated, “the man was trying to be kind, and most patrons are flattered when a maître d’hôtel remembers them! How could he have known?”

But I could not pacify him as he muttered such phrases as “Damned insolence...prying into my private affairs...unwarrantable intrusion...”

I kept silent after the first remonstrance. I did not want the rage turned, as it might all too easily have been, on me. I rather congratulated myself on this silence, thinking I was becoming wise to Philip’s ways. But a few days after, I blundered again, and this time I surely should have known better.

It was one of the respectable hotel restaurants where at late dinner there is an orchestra, and dancing. Philip and I had a seat at the edge of the dance floor, and when he saw how wistfully I eyed the dancers, he asked indulgently if I would like to dance and guided me in a sedate waltz around the floor.

I had never been to many dances, but I had enjoyed the few I had attended—usually student affairs at the university—for my father, unlike many scholarly people, did not object to dancing. He had thought it a harmless recreation, a pleasing exercise, and an occupation which, as he said, kept Satan from finding mischief for idle bodies and souls. He had been fond of quoting from the Greeks about choric dances. When I had gone to live with Aunt Mabel I had been in no mood for dances, but I had been surprised to find that in the city and in society there was a firm distinction drawn between girls who were out and could attend dances, and young girls who did not go into society and could not. So I was both pleased and slightly surprised to realize that Philip was willing to allow me to dance.

At a nearby table, a family party had finished dining and were listening to the music and eating ices: a middle-aged gentleman somewhat younger than Philip, with huge grey moustaches; a sweet looking lady with greying hair, fashionably but soberly dressed; a little girl of

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