Bridges by Linda Griffin

Author:Linda Griffin [Griffin, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical fiction;women's fiction;1960s; Age Difference; Blind Heroine; Chauffeur; Estate; Heiress; Innocent Heroine; Marriage of Convenience; Massachusetts; Mock Marriage; New England
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2022-01-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

On Wednesday morning, Neil was summoned to the library—not, as it turned out, by Mrs. St. James, but by Miss DeWinter. “Taking charge, are we?” he asked, pleased.

“Fat chance,” she said. “I had to talk to you. What am I going to do?”

“About what?”

“About this. Can’t you see? Are you blind? Oh, don’t laugh.” She was almost laughing herself, but she still sounded vexed.

“I’m not. What are you talking about?”

“This pimple. It’s enormous. How can I meet The Boy like this? Now you are laughing. That’s just mean.”

“I’m not. I don’t see anything.” She pointed to her chin. “Oh—that? It might feel enormous, but it’s only a tiny little pink spot. I’m sure he won’t notice. Why would you care anyway? You don’t even like him.”

“No, but…You’re lying to me.”

“I told you I’ll never lie to you. I’ll tell you what, though—you are too young to think about getting married if you can still get in a panic about a pimple. You should be necking with boys in cars and hanging out at the malt shop.”

“You’re a big help.”

“I’m serious. Ask Jane for something to put on it and then forget it.”

“I’m not supposed to bother her anymore.”

“Ask your own maid, then—what’s her name?”

“Betty. She treats me like a baby.”

“I’ll tell you a secret about guys. We’re very unobservant.” Jane had often complained of that particular failing. “When I came in here, I didn’t think, ‘Oh, look, a skinny little girl with big sunglasses and a teeny, tiny pink spot on her chin.’ I thought, ‘Oh, it’s Mary Claire. I’m glad to see her.’ You always look fine to me because you always look like you. If you change your hairstyle or wear a particularly pretty dress, I may not even notice. You think you’re blind…”

“You’re awful,” she said, “but you do make me feel better.” She sighed. “I wish I was like you. I wish I was a man.”

“No, you don’t. A woman is a very special thing to be.”

“You only say that because you haven’t tried it.”

The door opened. Mary Claire jumped and then braced herself. “Oh, here you are,” Mrs. St. James said sourly. Word in the servants’ hall was that she was even angrier than usual this morning because an article had appeared in the local newspaper: St. James Granddaughter to Inherit if She Marries. “Hiding in the library again? I won’t have you bothering Vincent.”

“She wasn’t—” he began.

“Go wash your face and change your clothes. Put on what Betty has laid out for you.”

Mary Claire opened her mouth to speak.

“Don’t argue with me. I’m sick of hearing your whiny little voice. We have our work cut out for us making you presentable. The least you could do is cooperate.”

Mary Claire, very pale, started again to say something.

“Go,” her aunt said sharply. She went. “Annoying little brat,” Mrs. St. James said.

He couldn’t tell whether she was addressing him or herself. “You might try kindness,” he suggested, but of course she wasn’t listening.

“Oh, Vincent—was there something about the books?”

“No, ma’am.

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