Bedelia by Vera Caspary Read Free Book Online Page A

widow. As background the stony peaks of the Rockies to show the cruelty and indifference of Nature, and the harshness of the world against which a frail woman must battle.”
    â€œIt sounds stunning. Why have you changed your mind?”
    â€œThe obvious lack of mountain scenery.”
    â€œCouldn’t you do it from photographs?”
    â€œThat’s not the way I work. Moreover, my model would no longer be the slender and ardent widow pursued by our friend Charlie from the hotel salon to the veranda. I found the story romantic when I first heard it and was tempted to work from imagination rather than reality.”
    â€œBut the story is true.”
    â€œThe subject had changed. Instead of that pensive widow we see a buxom wife. The lines are no longer angular but . . .” he carried out the idea with his hands. “This is to be the portrait of a woman who’s satisfied with her life because she’s succeeded at a woman’s most fundamental job, which is to make a man comfortable.”
    â€œVery flattering,” said Charlie.
    â€œYou smug thing!” cried Abbie, playing with the East Indian bangle which she wore over her tight black satin sleeve.
    Ben saw that his guests were through with the clams, and he rang the bell for Hannah. Then he turned to Bedelia and said, “When you sit for your portrait, you must wear the black pearl.”
    â€œBlack pearl!” exclaimed Abbie, looking at Bedelia with new respect. “Don’t tell me you own a black pearl.”
    Bedelia glanced at Charlie. It was fortunate, her eyes seemed to be saying, that she had had her own way about Abbie’s gift. Ben might have embarrassed them by remarking that he had seen Bedelia wear the ring. “Oh, it’s not real,” she explained. “I picked it up in a novelty shop in New York. It cost five dollars. Charlie thought it looked cheap, but I’m so ignorant that it looked like a real one to me.”
    â€œA remarkable imitation,” Ben said. “I’m no judge of jewelry, but when I first saw it I thought the platinum and diamonds genuine, and that the pearl might be worth a thousand dollars.”
    Abbie played with the bangle. “It sounds stunning. Why don’t you wear it, Bedelia?”
    â€œMy husband doesn’t approve of artificial stones.” Bedelia spoke without resentment, simply stating fact.
    â€œI’m sorry I noticed the ring that night,” Ben said. “If I hadn’t admired it quite so much, Charlie would probably never have noticed it.”
    â€œNot notice a black pearl!” cried Abbie as if she were speaking of mortal sin.
    Charlie wished they would quit talking about it.
    â€œI’m sure he noticed,” Bedelia said. “It was much too conspicuous for him not to. But he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by criticizing my taste, so he controlled his own, although he detested the ring.”
    Charlie sighed.
    â€œMy sensitive ear perceives the overtones of a domestic quarrel,” Abbie said brightly.
    â€œCharlie and I never quarrel, do we, dear?”
    Again Ellen felt, as she always felt when people were oversweet or used too many pet names, that underneath the sugar frosting the cake was sour.
    Hannah passed roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and all the trimmings. Charlie barely touched the food and only wet his tongue with Burgundy. His head had begun to pound. “Nerves,” he told himself disapprovingly, “nothing but nerves.” Instead of the round table set with Mrs. Bennett’s second-best dishes, he saw a square corner table at Jaffney’s Tavern, and Ben ashost again. The picture in Charlie’s mind was like one of those Impressionist things, all angles and disharmony; a gleaming tablecloth, a long-necked bottle of Rhine wine, Bedelia’s hand stretched across the table over a platter of lobster and wedges of lemon, resting in Ben’s swarthy hand, and Ben bending over