Free Garden of Shadows by V. C. Andrews

and started back toward the stairway, when a picture left atop a dresser caught my eye.
I went to it and looked down at a pretty woman, perhaps no more than eighteen or nineteen. She wore a faint, enigmatic smile. She was ravishingly beautiful. Her bosom swelled out suggestively from a ruffled bodice. I was mesmerized by her smile, a smile that seemed to promise more and more right before my eyes. Suddenly it occurred to me who this was. I was looking at Malcolm's mother! This was Corinne Foxworth! There were clear resemblances in the eyes and in the mouth.
Could Malcolm have brought her picture up here to hide away with the rest of his past? But there was something even more unusual about this picture: it sparkled unlike anything else in the room. Everything went to the Foxworths many years ago," he said, "and they were cloistered there for a time."
"It looked like a place for someone to hide from the world," I said. He grunted, not keen to tell me more about the cousins or why they were kept living there. When I told him I had wandered up to the attic and found the birdcages, which I wished to bring down, he became rather annoyed.
"My mother had them all over this place," he said. "At times it sounded like an aviary. Leave them where they are. Think of more dignified things to do when you re-decorate the house."
I was not about to argue any matter that concerned Malcolm's mother. We talked a bit about Charlottesville and he described his offices and why he was so busy. He blamed it on a number of slipshod practices and poor decisions his father had made just before beginning his travels and going into semiretirement. But then he returned to a happier note.
"I made a rather good move in the stock market today. I bought one thousand shares at twenty-four and by late afternoon it was up to fifty. A brilliant move, if I do say so myself. Do you know much about the stock market, Olivia?"
"No, not really," I said. "I kept track of my father's investments, of course, but I couldn't advise him as to where to place his funds and where not to."
"Precisely why you ought to reconsider what you do with your own fortune, Olivia. In my hands it could be developed, increased, grow the way it is meant to grow."
"Must we talk about that tonight, Malcolm? There's so much for me to get used to."
His eyes clouded over, and he picked up his water and drank the entire glass down. "Of course, dear. As a matter of fact, I have to be going now anyway. I have some business to attend to. But I shan't be late. I'll return just after you retire for the day," he said. Then, to be sure his meaning was clear, he added, "Olivia, don't bother to wait up for me."

5 My Wedding Party
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    THE GUESTS FOR THE RECEPTION BEGAN TO ARRIVE A LITTLE after one, fashionably late. Alone, with a few minutes to contemplate myself, I stood before the mirror and studied the image I presented. With my hair up in its usual manner, and the bodice of my blue dress somewhat tight and adding to the uplift in my bosom, and the fullness of the skirt, I thought I looked gargantuan. Because of the way the full-length mirror had been hung, I actually had to step back a few extra feet to see my entire body, from head to toe, in the glass.
    Was there any style I could wear that would make me look dainty and lovable? I could have let my hair down, but I was always so self-conscious about that. It made me feel rather undressed.
    I wondered if I was wrong to hope that this dress, the one that had attracted Malcolm, was dignified enough. Would Malcolm's friends and business acquaintances find me impressive? I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing beside him. Surely, this was something he himself had imagined before he took me as his bride.
    He must have been happy with the picture that formed in his mind, because he married me and he wanted to introduce me to fine society here. I tried to convince myself I should be more confident, but I couldn't keep that small bird from fluttering its