Obsession (9780061887079) by Gloria Vanderbilt Read Free Book Online Page B

from a sumptuous array of kimonos hanging in a closet, selects the one she is to wear that day. Later she will be permitted to go into the garden and the day will begin as she meanders unattended down pathways leading into the forest among trees so tall that sunlight seldom glimmers.
    At the edge of this dark forest Priscilla spots a Victorian pergola identical to one she and Talbot found on holiday in Cornwall. Yes—it is the very one but no longer pristine-white—it has been repainted a rich magenta. Garlands of honeysuckle trail from curlicued arabesques and saffron gauze curtains drift in the breeze ready to draw should privacy be indicated, and under the pergola cushions of magenta silk, left in disarray to lie around the centered dais. She stares, stunned as to how this pergola which Talbot had transported from Cornwall to their garden at Talcilla in Easton, Maryland, now finds itself here. Even more confusing is that although it is daylight, under the pergola it appears to be dark as night, as fireflies flicker in alternating patterns of stars and crescent moons intermingling with fairylike creatures; elusive and swift as hummingbirds, they dart from darkness into the sunlight toward her only to circle around her head and disappear back under the pergola.
    Suddenly a group is seen approaching from a path in the dark forest. An astonishing sight: four figures wearing identical kimonos of lavender and saffron silk led by one of outrageous beauty—taller than the others—the giant person—carrying a banner emblazoned “Akeru,” her robe a caftan of yellow gauze embroidered with crowns and bees. Over this, a cloak of magenta taffeta—its hood framing magnificent copper-burnished hair that wafts around her shoulders as she moves in stately manner toward the pergola. This image of frightening splendor is, of course, me. It will be the first time Priscilla has seen anyone save Rowena since arriving at Akeru, and, as our procession draws near, she will not know if we are friend or foe. But suddenly a reassuring huddle of black and white monkeys, led by my favored twin pets Oscarand Peter, scramble from trees in the forest, clutching in their tiny fingers castanets that they clickety-clack in improvisational rhythms, incessantly chattering in strange tongues as they hasten toward Priscilla in an overbearing but friendly fashion.
    Rowena has been unobtrusively trailing Priscilla in her meanderings about the gardens and now it is time for her to spook Priscilla from behind a tree, pushing her toward the pergola, mumbling to sit on a cushion beneath it. As I take my place on the dais, Oscar and Peter separate from their copains , taking the banner from me to scurry up the pergola securing it on top, and come back down, compose themselves to sit and remain staring at her in a disconcerting manner. There ensues a silence, ominously threatening, as the sky darkens, but instead of rain about topour down upon us, from the shadows of the forest an invisible group of skilled musicians start to play Talbot’s favorite fifth movement of Beethoven’s C Sharp Minor Quartet, op. 131. This has been chosen because it reminds me of Talbot’s pattern of lovemaking: expectations first denied; then fulfillment, progressively postponed by fragmentation of rhythm, but at the very moment when rhythm, harmony, texture seem all but destroyed, the little fugue that opens the movement raises hopes and redirects expectations and returns to give fulfillment. Is Priscilla sensitive enough to pick up on this? Apparently not, for she is far too interested in getting a look at goddesses Galaxy, Volupia, Milo, and Luna, seated serenely on cushions well aware that as long as they are beautiful theyare alive. “Pay attention Miss Priss,” I reprimand the cringing Priscilla. “There is to be a three-minute silence in which you must squeeze your eyes so that your face becomes a tight little fist as it strains to