Free Garden of Shadows by V. C. Andrews Page A

nervous wings inside my chest.
    I pressed my hand against my breasts, took a deep breath, and started down the dual winding staircase to the foyer. Even though it was a bright day and we had more than the usual amount of sunlight pouring in the windows, Malcolm wanted to be sure that Foxworth Hall felt cheerful and gay, so he had ordered that all five tiers of the four crystal and gold chandeliers be fitted with candles and lit.
    The room was brilliant, but my nervousness made my face feel so hot, it was as if I were descending into a pit of fire. I was breathing so quickly, I had to pause to catch my breath. My legs actually trembled and for a moment my feet felt glued to the steps of the winding staircase. I thought I would be unable to go any farther. I took a firm hold of the balustrade. My eyes filled with tears. The light from the lamps and the candles blurred, and the reflections that emerged from the giant crystal fountain spraying its pale amber fluid, and the silver receiving bowl at the center of the foyer, looked like threads forming a cobweb of light across the room. The mirrors reflected the light from the silver cups on trays, and sent it to be caught by the polished frames of chairs and sofas lining the walls.
    Finally, I got hold of myself and continued down.
"This is to be a festive occasion," I overheard Malcolm commanding the servants. "Make people feel comfortable and relaxed. Watch for emptied glasses and plates. Get them up and out of the way quickly.
Circulate with the caviar, the small sandwiches, and petit fours continually. Guests should merely feel an inclination and then find you there beside them. But always, when you serve, smile, look pleasant, and be ready to be of some assistance. And carry napkins, do you hear? I don't want people looking about for a place to wipe their fingers."
Malcolm saw me descend the stairs. "Ah, Olivia, there you are," he said. I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment pass over his face. "Come with me; we'll greet all our guests at the entrance, just after Lucas announces them."
I laced my arm through Malcolm's, feeling nervous, tense, but doing my best not to show any of that. He looked remarkably cool and collected, as though he did this sort of thing every day. He looked handsome, in control, dashing. I hoped that on his arm, I would too.
The bell rang. The first guests had arrived! "Mr. and Mrs. Patterson," Lucas announced. Mr. Patterson was a short, rotund man with a pink flush blushing his cheeks. Mrs. Patterson, however, was dainty, thin, rimmed in lace, and wearing a dress that barely covered her knees! Her hair was worn down in ringlets, held into place by a daring bejeweled headband. Why, I didn't know people actually wore such costumes. I'd seen them only in fashion magazines.
"I'd like to present my wife," Malcolm said. And as I moved to greet Mrs. Patterson, I saw her eyes climb up to the summit of my head; then slink once again to my feet, then climb again, this time to Malcolm, where they rested on his blue eyes as a wry smile formed on her lips.
Mr. Patterson broke the tension by grasping my hand warmly and saying, "Olivia, welcome to Virginia. I hope Malcolm is showing you all the pleasures of our Virginia hospitality."
Mrs. Patterson, finally tearing her eyes from Malcolm's, merely looked at me and sighed, "Indeed."
The remainder of the guests followed in a steady stream, and soon the party was in full swing.
The men were correct and pleasant, but I was shocked to see that all the women wore sacklike dresses that ended just below or even above the knee and were either waistless or belted at hip level. The fine thin fabrics were all pale--creams, beiges, whites, and soft pastels. I thought they looked more like little girls than dignified women. Their largescale accessories, huge artificial flowers of silk and velvet, and heavy ropes of beads, emphasized their diminutive size and added to their childish
appearance.
Beside them, I was a veritable