Devon Michaelson wondered if he had made a mistake inviting the other guests at his table to the service this morning. He knew that his startled reaction when the chaplain, Father Baker, offered to pray over the urn had been noticed by Alvirah Meehan, and perhaps by others in the small group. His hope was that they might think he was an atheist.
In fact, he had been raised in a devout Catholic family. Even though he had fallen away from any practice of religion, he had imagined the horror his mother would have felt if he let a priest say a prayer over cigar ashes.
I can’t let anyone start wondering about me, he thought. And by now I should know that I have never been given the luxury of making mistakes.
? ? ?
Yvonne, Dana and Valerie were finishing their second glasses of wine. They had spent the late morning and early afternoon sunbathing by the pool. As they were talking, Valerie was scanning the list of activities.
“Listen to this,” Yvonne interrupted. “There’s going to be a lecture about the Hamptons including the story of a real-life witch from East Hampton.”
“I know who that must be,” Dana offered. “It’s Julie Winston, the former model who just married the chairman of Browning Brothers. I got stuck seated next to her at a charity ball and—”
“If we’re talking witches, it’s got to be Ethel Pruner. Seven of us were on a committee with her to organize flower arrangements and we all wanted to quit after the first meeting—”
Valerie held up both hands and laughed. “I think they’re referring to a witch that lived in the 1600s. It starts in fifteen minutes. What do you say?”
“Let’s go,” Dana and Yvonne said in unison as they all stood up.
? ? ?
The presenter introduced himself as Charles Dillingham Chadwick. He was a slender man in his mid-forties, bald, and of average height. Chadwick had that trademark Hamptons ability to speak without moving his lower jaw, but at the same time he had a twinkle in his eye and a willingness to poke fun at himself.
“Thank you all so very much for coming. One of my earliest happy childhood memories is of my father explaining how our family traces its ancestry all the way back to the Mayflower and how our ancestors once owned a considerable amount of land in what is now the Hamptons. My foremost unhappy childhood memory is when I learned that they sold their land for a pittance one hundred years ago.”
Wide laughter followed. Dana said to Valerie and Yvonne, “This is going to be more fun than we thought.”
Chadwick cleared his throat and continued. “I hope you will find as fascinating as I do how a sleepy collection of farming and fishing villages on the easternmost tip of Long Island emerged into one of the world’s foremost playgrounds for the rich and famous. But let’s begin with a story of a neighborly dispute which almost resulted in one of the Hamptons’ early settlers being, shall we say, barbequed.
“In the early days of the Hamptons the Puritans held sway. Thirty-five years before the infamous witch trials in Salem, Massachusetts, Easthampton had its own ‘bewitching’ experience.
“In February 1658, shortly after giving birth, sixteen-year-old Elizabeth Gardiner became very ill and began ranting about being the victim of witchcraft. Young Gardiner would die a day later, but not before she identified her neighbor Goody Garlick as her tormentor. Poor Goody had been the target of other unsavory accusations. She was viewed as the culprit when livestock mysteriously died.
“A review of the Hamptons court records of the time reveals that people were constantly accusing, arguing with and suing each other over the most trivial of matters—I’m tempted to add that little has changed to this very day. Poor Goodie, it appears, was headed for a nasty experience.
“But Garlick was the recipient of some, shall we say, Goody luck, when the East Hampton magistrates, unable to make a decision, referred her case to a higher court in Hartford, the colony that owned the Hamptons at that time.
“Her case was heard by Governor John Winthrop, Jr. Winthrop was a scholar who believed that the magical forces of nature were more responsible for events than people. There may have been a bit of snobbery at work. He was skeptical that a farmer’s wife with little education could perform magical acts. A verdict of not guilty was rendered along with some judicial advice for the cantankerous Hamptons residents. I quote, ‘It is desired and expected by this court that you should carry neighborly and peaceably without offense to Mr. Garlick and his wife, and that they should do like to you.’
“Is this little anecdote important? I think so. After Winthrop’s decision, Easthampton had no more accusations of witchcraft, while that subject would paralyze communities in Massachusetts for years to come. As for Hamptons residents behaving neighborly, that remains a work in progress.”
37
The Captain’s cocktail party was held in his large, beautifully decorated suite. Soft blues and pale greens on the walls and furnishings were the color scheme. Smiling waiters offered drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Celia had fastened back her dark hair with a gold clip and let it cascade down on her shoulders. Her moss-green gown was shimmering chiffon. The earrings that had been her mother’s were her only jewelry.
She did not realize it, but the eyes of the Captain, as well as most of the other men present, lingered on her as she chatted with other guests. Lady Em arrived shortly after her. She was wearing a simple black gown which set off the breathtaking three-strand emerald necklace that had once adorned Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and had not been seen in public in one hundred years. Startling in its beauty, each emerald sparkled in unblemished clarity. Lady Em’s white hair was piled softly on her head; her wide hazel eyes and long lashes gave hints of the beauty she had been, and her straight carriage combined to present a regal, commanding image. Her earrings were pear-shaped diamonds, and other than that she wore only her diamond wedding band, to ensure that nothing would distract from the awe-inspiring necklace.
Like Celia, she had decided to put aside her concerns for the evening. She wanted to enjoy the sensation that she knew she was causing. It reminded her of those faraway days when she bowed to the thunderous applause of packed theaters as a prima ballerina.
And although he was always present in her subconscious mind, it so vividly brought back memories of Richard, including when he was waiting at the stage door that wonderful night in London when they first met. Handsome, courtly Richard, who had stepped forward from the crowd of admirers, reached for her hand and kissed it.