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the things within it would tell me more about the man I had married.
We passed door after door until we reached a set of double doors on the right. The only doors we had passed which were painted white. I paused.
"No one goes into this room," Malcolm declared. "It was my mother's room." His voice was so cold and hard when he said that, and his eyes so far away, that I wondered what it was about his mother that bothered him so. He spat out the word "mother" almost as if it were poison. What kind of man could hate his mother so?
Of course, I wanted to know more, but Malcolm took my arm to lead me on quickly. Mrs. Steiner stopped before an opened doorway and stood to the side to allow me to enter.
The bedroom was large. An ornately carved cherry bed stood in its center. Its hand-carved posts were topped with a white canopy, and the bed was covered with a spread of quilted satin. There were two large white pillows with hand-crocheted pillowcases.
The bed itself was set between two large paneled windows that faced the south. The windows were draped in light blue pleated antique silk curtains. The room had a polished hardwood floor, but there was a thick light-gray wool rug beside the bed.
I looked at the dressing table on the left with its oval-framed mirror. There was a large dresser beside it, a tremendous closet beside that, and a blue cutvelvet chair facing the bed. There was another closet on the right and another, smaller dresser to the right of it. The fireplace, now aglow with a dancing fire, was opposite the bed.
Although the curtains, the bedding, and the rug suggested warmth and femininity, the room had a cold appearance. As I stood there, I had the distinct impression the room had been thrown together rather quickly. In such a glorious house, why would Malcolm want such a bedroom?
My question was answered immediately. This was not our bedroom.
This was my bedroom.
"You'll want to get right to sleep," he said. "It's been a hard day, with all our traveling. Sleep as late as you wish."
Malcolm leaned over and kissed me quickly on the cheek and then turned and left before I could say anything.
It occurred to me that Malcolm might just be very shy and made these remarks for Mrs. Steiner's benefit. He probably intended to come to my bed before or in the morning
Mrs. Steiner remained with me a while longer, showing me the bathroom facilities, explaining the order of the house, how she handled the linens, when she cleaned the rooms, how the orders for meals were made.
"Of course, it's so late I can't give proper thought to all these things," I said, "but in the morning I'll go over it all again with you and decide what we'll continue and what we'll change." I think she was surprised by my firmness.
"Every Thursday the servants go to town. We do our own shopping then as well," she said, frightened that I would end that practice.
"Where do the servants sleep?" I asked.
"Servants' quarters are above the garage in the rear. Tomorrow you'll meet Olsen, the gardener. He'll want to show you the gardens in the rear. He's rather proud of them. Our cook is Mrs. Wilson. She's been with the Foxworths for nearly thirty years. She claims to be sixty-two, but I know she's closer to seventy," she added. She chatted on and on in her somewhat thick German accent while she unpacked my trunks and began to organize my wardrobe. Finally her words melded into one long, monotonous rhythm, so I could no longer follow. She saw she was losing my attention and excused herself.
"I hope you enjoy your first night's sleep at Foxworth," she said. Of course, it was practically morning.
I took out the blue dressing gown I had taken such pains to have made for my wedding night. It had a deep cut V-shaped neckline and it was truly the most revealing garment I had ever owned. I remembered when they had first come out with the V neck, it had been denounced from the pulpit as indecent exposure. Doctors said it was a danger to health and a blouse with a triangular