A New York Haunting: Pt. 07

Anders rolled his eyes.

"'Thank you, sir.' I nervously returned my attention to the canvas.

"Peter positioned himself next to the easel, partially blocking my view and casually drawing back his suit jacket to reveal a revolver in a holster on his hip. 'Miss Cornelissen, tell me true --- have you thought about me since Christmas?' His eyes were twinkling."

Anders raised his brows. Quite the direct question! "How did you respond?"

"My paintbrush froze in the air, and the heat rose in my cheeks. To my bewilderment, an unbidden heat likewise fluttered low in my belly.

"A slow, sly smile spread over Peter's face. 'You have, haven't you? And I've thought about you.' His eyes held mine.

"'Hullo!' My brother's voice approached from the direction of the house. 'Are you ready?'

"Peter patted the gun on his hip and responded in the affirmative. They were going to test the new model, he explained.

"This sounded far more compelling than my painting, and I tagged along, following them across the lawn and climbing down the rough steps hewn into the cliff face to reach the small rocky beach. Bram and Peter took turns with the pistol as previously, letting me take occasional shots.

"In the afternoon, eager to avoid my aunt, I also accompanied them sailing..."

Anders watched the steady rise and fall of her chest with her breaths. As the pause lengthened, he asked, "What was your impression of him with this second meeting?"

"I knew people were calling Peter Van der Veen a social climber and a slickster, but I could not help feeling fascinated by his cavalier disregard for propriety and convention. Indeed, I sensed this refreshing character trait was part of his appeal for my brother as well.

"My aunt and uncle hosted a relatively small dinner party that evening with two families in attendance, adjourning after the meal to the drawing room to amuse themselves at cards, as per custom. None of my suitors being among the guests tonight, and not being a bridge player myself, I found solitude in the adjoining library with my book and sketchpad --- happily without incurring my aunt's disapproval.

"Peter evidently did not play bridge either, for through the open doors between the two rooms, I noticed him lurking among the card tables and conversing with others likewise not engaged in the game. By-and-by, he wandered into the library and approached the chaise lounge where I reclined.

"'Blue blazes! What a bore!' he muttered. He leaned over me. 'What are you sketching?'

"I turned the book to show him my series of drawings practicing hands and fingers.

"He nodded, then glanced back towards the drawing room. A glint appeared in his eye. In a low voice he said, 'Would you like to take a stroll with me to the cliff, my lady?'

"My mouth fell open in astonishment at the scandalous suggestion. Mercifully, he saw the answer without my speaking. He plopped into the chair near my chaise. 'Not something a proper lady can do, eh?' His finger ran under his stiff collar and tugged at it, muttering something under his breath. Picking up my book from the table next to me, he said, 'How about I read to you instead?'

"'As you please, sir.'

"Peter's eyebrows rose as he read the title, Eighty Years More by Elizabeth Cady Stanton. 'What is this? Suffragist shi--- garbage? I'm surprised your aunt lets you read this.'

"'She doesn't ---' I began but stopped in shock when he rose from his chair, lifted the chimney of the oil lamp, and put the book in the flame.

"I sprang towards him, sputtering, 'Mr. Van der Veen!'

"Blocking me with one arm, he held the burning book in his other hand and crossed to the fireplace to toss it onto the grate. I could only watch in outrage as the flames rapidly enveloped it. Chuckling, Peter guided me back to the chaise lounge. 'Don't bust a corset string over a damned book.' He patted my head. 'Now sit here like a good girl and I'll find a better book for you.'"

Anders blinked. Rasshøl! "What did you do?"

"I sat on the edge of the chaise, clutching my sketchbook and contemplating simply stalking from the room. Years of instruction in etiquette told me I must treat guests graciously --- but why should I concern myself with etiquette when this cad didn't?

"Even as I seethed, he returned with a book he had selected from one of the shelves, drew his chair closer, and began reading aloud. I scarcely listened, so annoyed was I --- it seemed to be about a young man who was an adventurer and big game hunter. As soon as courtesy permitted, I excused myself for the night."

Anders' pencil paused. "What happened when you next saw him?"

"I was still irked with Peter the following day and ignored his teasing overtures during breakfast. Come late morning, Lillian arrived by buggy to collect me for the archery contest in which we were participating. Bram promised he would follow shortly to observe the sport.

"Lillian and I soon pulled into the drive of the estate where the event was being held. The flowering gardens surrounding the mansion were lively with fluttering banners and strolling guests in their summer linens and pastels. As we alit from the carriage, a young man hastened forward with a grin and dashing bow..."

"A young man? Not Peter?"

"No --- he was one of my three approved suitors --- in fact, he was the manufacturing heir whom Peter had challenged for the final waltz at Mrs. Astor's ball the night before last.

"'Ladies, may I carry your quivers for you?' he offered.

"Lillian smiled and passed them to him. 'Sir, you are the picture of gallantry.'

"I thanked him, silently agreeing with Lillian as I discovered a new appreciation for good manners --- after Peter Van der Veen's recent antics. We headed across the lawn --- the young gallant carrying an arrow-laden quiver on each shoulder.

"'HEY!' came a harsh shout behind us.

"Turning, we beheld Peter Van der Veen striding swiftly across the lawn towards us, a grim expression upon his countenance. He marched directly to my suitor and announced, 'I'll carry Miss Cornelissen's arrows.'

"The young man was surprised by the combative tone but maintained his aplomb, arching one eyebrow. 'I'm afraid the young lady has already bestowed that honor upon me, old chap.'

"Peter sneered. 'You damned numskull, you can't even tell the girl isn't interested in you!'

"A brief flare of anger in the young man's eyes was quickly supplanted by a deliberate, scornful perusal. 'I can't guess how a jumped-up hood like you has managed to come by invitations to Society engagements,' he said calmly. 'But you need to know your place and stay away from Miss Cornelissen.'

"With a snarl, Peter lunged at his rival and knocked him to the ground!"

Anders stopped writing. Wow! Two men fighting over Ondine's 'quiver' --- how inadvertently and ironically apt! Dr. Freud himself would have been impressed. He cleared his throat. "What happened next?"

"A shocking brawl unfolded on the lawn of the manse --- fists and oaths flying as they wrestled on the grass amid crushed quivers and strewn arrows --- all while a circle of aghast guests assembled. Bram soon appeared and pulled Lillian and me away from the affray, only to plunge back in, endeavoring to drag Peter back. Another pair of men also stepped in, and with their combined efforts, terminated the fight, restraining the struggling combatants several feet apart.

"Red-faced, bloody-nosed, and panting, the two young men glared at each other with clenched fists and grass-stained suits. 'Good Lord Peter! What the devil did you do?!' my brother muttered.

"The host of the event now stepped into the circle and in a solemn voice called upon the adversaries to apologize for their part in this unfortunate, gentlemanly misunderstanding. He emphasized the word 'gentlemanly' as he pointedly eyed Peter. No doubt --- suggested the host --- it would be best for all parties to avoid the scandal that would inevitably result from summoning the law.

"A long silence ensued. The two young men stared at each other.

"In a testament to his so-called 'better breeding', my sanctioned suitor spoke first. 'It's a misunderstanding, indeed --- on his part.' With perfect composure, he shrugged off the hands restraining him and straightened his tie. 'But I humbly apologize to our esteemed host and the respectable company for my part in the undignified display.'

"Peter lurched against Bram's grip at the opening insinuation, but by the end of the speech, he simply glowered at his now calm rival. My brother shook him slightly and said something in his ear. A moment later, Peter sullenly mumbled, 'I'm sorry, sir... ladies and gentlemen.'

"With that, Bram drew Peter away from the dispersing crowd, and the two departed the estate --- my brother apologizing to me for missing the exhibition. They immediately left Newport. Although my aunt and uncle had not been in attendance at the outrageous scene, they soon caught wind of it and announced a ban on further hosting the erstwhile guest."

Chapter 27. A SHOCKING GIFT

Silence fell, during which Ondine's bosom rose and fell with the steady respirations of her trance state.

Anders asked, "How did you feel about their proscription against Peter?"

"At first, I felt relieved --- but the following weekend, when Bram returned alone. I was confused to find myself disappointed by Peter's absence.

"My brother apologized to our aunt and uncle and me for his friend's conduct. He readily acknowledged Peter Van der Veen's often unrefined behavior but made no excuse for it. Instead, he vowed to subject the brash gun manufacturer to remedial instruction in social etiquette posthaste.

"My brother went on to explain that despite his humble origins, Van der Veen had a decent heart. The man had veritably saved his life in a perilous incident that had occurred while he was in his surgical residency --- an incident too unsavory to recount in mixed company. In addition to this debt of gratitude, Bram admitted to enjoying the man's unconventional company --- they shared many of the same (respectable) interests including hunting, riding, shooting, fishing, football, and baseball.

"Since our ancestral dwelling had been sold after the death of our parents --- Bram continued --- Uncle Warren's and Aunt Adele's residences were the only places he could call home. He valued his visits with the family and would like to be able to continue to invite his closest friend when he was on leave from the battlefront. He promised that Peter and he would pursue their own diversions and henceforth steer clear of formal gatherings.

"Finally, Bram alluded to the growing reach of Van der Veen's munitions firm and the soon-anticipated need for overseas shipping outside of government contracts. Acquiring his business would be a boon to the Cornelissen family."

"Did your brother's arguments have any impact on your family?"

"His words appeared to mollify at least our uncle. By the end of the week, our aunt was evidently likewise persuaded, for on Friday afternoon, Bram and Peter Van der Veen both arrived in Newport. Upon his entry to the house, Peter at once tendered his apology to the family for his boorish behavior. He presented enormous bouquets of flowers to my aunt and myself. Out of earshot and sight of the others, he additionally handed me a flat, rectangular object wrapped in pretty paper.

"'It's to replace your book that I burned,' he said in a formal tone. 'But don't unwrap it until you're alone.'

"My vanity was tickled by his return and the conciliatory gesture, but I maintained a cool mien. Inclining my head briefly, I accepted the gift.

"That evening, true to his word, Bram and Peter did not accompany us to the Vanderbilts' dinner party, instead finding their own entertainments.

"Upon our late-night return from the dinner, my maid Hildy helped me undress and withdrew. It was then I recalled Peter's gift --- and the warning to open it only when I was alone. Retrieving it from my dressing table, I sat on the edge of my bed and unwrapped it. I had expected it might be a replacement of the same title he had destroyed, or a treatise by another suffragist author --- either of which would have warranted opening out of sight of my aunt's disapproving eyes.

"Thus, I was taken aback when the paper fell away to reveal the provocative title: Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure.

"If I thought myself shocked at the mere title, I found myself utterly astounded when I nervously opened the volume and turned through the pages --- it was a bawdy book with both illustrations and text! I blushed from head to toe. Even in my complete ignorance of such matters, I could not mistake the subject of the illustrated plates: men and women, breeches unfastened and skirts raised, engaged in sexual congress in a variety of positions."

Anders' brows had shot up at the mention of the title. Fanny Hill of all things! Ondine's narrative had taken a most unexpected turn. Years ago in Rochester, Fulton and he had discovered that very book hidden in Mr. Fordyce's study. How they had pored over those pictures! That was quite the choice of a gift on Van der Veen's part! Gazing at his patient, Anders observed spots of heightened color in her cheeks. "How did you react?" he murmured.

"Aghast, I slapped the book shut and tossed it a few feet away on the mattress, where I gaped at it, my face aflame. The villain! How dare he give such a book to a respectable girl?! It was a most dastardly affront!

"By God, what should I do with the sinful thing?! There was only one thing a proper young lady could do --- destroy it and refuse to acknowledge it. Yes, I should throw it in the fire and if he asked, tell him it had accidentally fallen in before I opened it.

"But no --- the fireplaces were unlit at this time of year. Perhaps I could say it had disappeared from my room while I was out for the evening.

"But what if he simply gave me another copy?

"I stared at the book from the corner of my eye, beset with confusion.

"For the past few years, I had dared to challenge --- albeit mostly inwardly --- the expectations imposed upon me as a female in my family's social sphere. I had dared to question my aunt's dictates and had imagined the possibility of an alternative life for myself, unconnected with the strictures and artifice of all-powerful Society. But in one realm, I remained completely cowed --- sexual matters. Carefully cultivated by a parade of admonishing adults in my life --- governesses, parents, ministers, teachers, my aunt and uncle, and society's ever pervasive denunciation --- my sense of shame regarding the subject was deeply ingrained.

"Ever since first meeting Peter at Christmas, I had been troubled by an involuntary, unfamiliar stirring in my body, provoked by his open and often improper flirtations. I was convinced there must be some wickedness in me to respond with this inexplicable fascination. And now I was being tested again."

Anders shook his head in frustration at the disservice wrought by society's puritanical censure. "What did you do?"

"I confess I yielded to the temptation and reached for the disgusting book.

"Glancing repeatedly at the closed hall door, I examined the illustrations once more. In wonder did I observe the drawings of the male organ. From furtive observations of stallions and dogs, I recognized the dangling paired balls --- but I was bewildered by the anatomy depicted above them. My only source of comparison was a long-ago glimpsed statue of Cupid in which the 'pee-wee' --- recalling a name used by playmates --- was a small, thumb-like structure hanging down.

"By contrast, the analogous structure in these illustrations was a pillar of astonishing proportions protruding upwards or outwards from the man's body. To my horror, this fearsome bludgeon appeared to be joined somehow with the woman's privates. In other pictures, the lady's hand was wrapped around the extraordinary object.

"One thing further struck me about all these indecent illustrations --- the mysterious expressions, from beatific to wicked, upon the faces of the eager participants, including the women. How could this be? The scant instruction I had received on the matter claimed such activities were an odious duty which women must bear. But of course, these pictures were only the product of some artist's pen --- the depictions might not accurately reflect the unpleasant truth.

"As I continued to peruse the drawings, I became aware of the pattering of my heart and a sympathetic pulse in my belly. It was that strange feeling again --- the same disconcerting disturbance in my body that had been elicited by Peter's attentions. Shame overwhelmed me and I again closed the book."

The rhythm of Ondine's breathing had accelerated almost imperceptibly --- the fabric of her white shirtwaist and polka-dotted apron top shifted with the motions of her round bosom. Anders swallowed. "Did you examine it any further?"

"No. I tried to sleep but passed a restless night in which I dreamed I was standing at my easel on the lawn overlooking the cliff. From behind me, a cajoling male voice murmured something in my ear, then the owner of the voice stepped in front of me. It was Peter. His intense green eyes traveled over me, and it was then I realized I was naked. In panic, I grabbed the canvas and tried to cover myself, but it was too small to cover both my bosom and privates at the same time. To my shame, my body squirmed with nervous excitement under his heated gaze. And when he moved close to me, I awoke --- only to discover the disquieting tremulous ache again possessing my... umm... body..." Ondine's voice trailed off.

Anders shifted awkwardly on his chair, endeavoring to suppress the inopportune recollection of her naked charms. "What happened next?"

"In the morning, the dilemma of what to do was renewed --- firstly, what do about Peter Van der Veen. How could I face him after his obscene gift? Should I even attend breakfast, or should I feign illness and hide in my room? Should I pretend I had not opened the present and ignore his inevitable, sly gaze? Secondly, what should I do about the book? If I left the safety of my bedroom, I could not leave it behind for fear the chambermaid might find it. For several minutes, I paced about the room in search of a hiding place for it.

"As the breakfast hour fast approached, I at last decided to present myself, reasoning it was best not to do anything to draw my aunt's attention. I slid the Fanny Hill book into my portfolio between the sketchpad and a canvas and carried the bag down with me to the dining room. There, I propped it in a window alcove where I could keep it in my sight. Perhaps after breakfast, I could set up my easel near the cliff and find a moment to throw the incriminating book into the ocean. Even if it washed up still legible, no one would be able to connect it to me.

"Peter soon entered the dining room, and I felt my heart beat faster in apprehension. Throughout the meal, he conducted himself with the new decorum he had exhibited the prior night; however, the roguish glint in his eyes when he regarded me was the telltale of the barely subdued vulgarity beneath the surface. I managed to meet his gaze with bland courtesy --- at least for several moments until I felt the heat prickling in my cheeks, and I was obliged to focus elsewhere."

"And after breakfast? Did Peter question you?"

"No. Fearful of presenting him with a chance to accost me alone, I decided against painting on the lawn --- thereby also relinquishing the opportunity to dispose of the book over the cliff. In my desire to avoid him, I spent the remainder of the morning and afternoon with my aunt --- of all things --- accompanying her to a charity bazaar, a luncheon, and a carriage ride with one of my suitors and his mother. All the while, my portfolio with its compromising contents stayed at my side. My aunt complained of its awkward presence, to which I responded I might encounter a pleasant prospect I wished to sketch --- and in fact I did so at the bazaar to fortify the excuse.