Pride House: The Quest for Vainglory Page 2
Chapter 2 A Letter from Kindness
That night Pride lay on his bed, and fiddled with his unfamiliar wedding ring while watching Doubt, seated at the mirror, undo her hair. Full of food and drink and feeling slightly concussed, he thought it fortunate that he need not face the usual challenge of a wedding night. That had all been settled long ago.
“It’s too bad,” Doubt had told him during the engagement negotiations, “but you musn’t think of having relations with me. I’m totally frigid, and it’s incurable.” Her voice had been as expressionless as if she were reading from a file card. “I would prefer that you not touch me at all.”
Pride had taken it calmly. During their courtship he had had ample opportunity to appreciate her lack of passion. He did not require her for passion. Due to a stipulation his parents had forced upon him, this wedding gave him legal possession of the house, and that was all he wanted from the arrangement.
Now from across the room she turned her small eyes to him, little spots of color appeared in her pallid cheeks, and she smiled, revealing imperfect teeth.
“Have you checked the mail today, darling?” she asked.
He nervously glanced toward a small desk in the corner. “No, I haven’t.”
“I did,” she purred. “Only one item that you’d be interested in, and it was dropped in the box without a stamp. Can you guess?”
Pride pressed his mouth shut, forcing himself to breathe loudly through his nose. Doubt produced a scrap of manila paper from her purse and, carrying it to him, seated herself nonchalantly on the edge of his bed.
“So now it’s pictures,” she pointed out. “And this one even mentions me, but not by name.”
The stiff paper was crudely folded like a greeting card. On the front, in crayon, was a young child’s rendition of a house, curls of smoke rising from its twin chimneys. To one side were stick figures of a mother, father, and several children walking toward the house, all holding squarish blobs of color that Pride took to be luggage. Inside was a scribble of crayon in which a few recognizable letters appeared and beneath this the signature ‘Kindness’ in clumsy capitals.
On the back was a message penned by an adult: “Sorry about the crayon, but my youngest wanted to write a confiscation notice just like he sees mommy do. Just to remind you, Pride—your land and property belong legally to the Ruler of Heaven. You and your new wife must give up your house to Heaven immediately or face the strictest penalties. Please direct any questions to Ambassador Grace at the Divine Embassy.”
The message was signed, “Faith Orchard.”
Pride’s stomach muscles clenched as a wave of impotent anger passed over him.
Doubt gave him another look of delighted spitefulness. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll protect you from these awful housewives and their four year olds.” She trotted to the desk and opened one of its drawers. “I’ll just put it in here with the others. You never throw them away, do you?” She held up a handful of letters and, not wishing to relinquish the look of pain on his face, began to leaf through them. “All handwritten, I see. Can’t they—”
“Put them away!” Pride exploded.
“Did you say throw them away?” She made as if to drop them in the wastebasket.”
“No!”
“Well, why not? You don’t take them seriously, do you?”
Pride took more deep breaths through his nose. He was sitting up straight now. “I hate you when you’re like this. Your only joy is to mock me.”
She said nothing, but put her tongue in her cheek and tilted her head to the side, giving him a superior look. The red spots in her cheeks had grown larger.
“Some—some half-witted foreign family,” he went on, “is blitzing me with what they think are eviction notices, and I keep them as evidence, that’s all. It’s none of your business. And I’d like to know why you’ve been snooping through my desk.”
She dropped the letters and the new note into the drawer and slid it shut with elaborate care. Carelessly she walked to the foot of his bed. “It’s more than that, isn’t it, dear? Any one with open ears in this house knows that woman Faith has been right here at the door, wanting in. But as I said, I’ll protect you. She can’t stand me. She hates the very sight of me, so as long as I’m here to deal with her, you won’t have to face her again. Isn’t that nice of me?”
Pride was reminded, in the midst of his vexation, of how valuable a wife Doubt could prove to be. Nice? It was indeed. One might employ her in such disagreeable little tasks as—as answering to unwanted visitors. His anger subsided.
“She’d cross the street to avoid you,” he said levelly.
Noting his change of tone and seeing that she was to have no more play with him, Doubt returned to the mirror, saying, “And small wonder. She thinks I’m a devil incarnate.”
“Maybe you are.”
She hissed in a breath. “Well, testy are we?”
“Not at all. If you are a devil, it suits me just fine. Only don’t think I’m bothered by Humility and Faith and their brood. They haven’t got a legal leg to stand on. The paper she tried to show me that day was all made up according to their foreign law, which makes it worthless. The only way they’ll ever get in here is if I give the place to them!”
He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “You know, it’s a shame, in a way, that the Orchards are so pushy and closed minded. They’re admirable people in some ways. I used to spend some time around them when I was a kid, because their oldest son Joy and I played tennis together, and he’d invite me over to the Embassy afterward. But that was when I was too young to see that they weren’t just being nice to be nice. Even then, they had their eyes on this house.
“It must have been a couple of years before I saw through them. They want to move out of that embassy and freeload somewhere, but there isn’t a house in town where they’re welcome. I mean nine children!—and take-over types at that. No, when I saw what they were after I broke off my friendship with Joy right away. They left me alone for several years, but now they’ve started this war of nerves with these letters: crazy stuff about their King owning all the houses. Well, let them rot.”
“You mean you don’t believe them?” Doubt asked with a sneer.
He ignored her question. “And now we know even Joy is in on it. How sick can he be, vandalizing the house this morning? I don’t understand how people can seem so nice and sane, and be so greedy and crazy. If they had their way, they’d run the whole city.”
“Why, they will, don’t you know? Troops from their country are on their way to invade and occupy. Aren’t you scared?”
Pride grinned. “Oh yeah, we’d better make friends with them now, while we can. Sure, I’ve heard their stories. You be sure to wake me before it starts.”
Doubt went to her own bed, slowly untying the last of her wedding braids. ‘‘By the way,” she said, “I have good news for you. I’ve convinced my friends to move in here, the girls I was telling you about. They’ll be arriving during the next few days, so you need not wait long.” She smiled knowingly.
During their engagement negotiations, after the subject of Doubt’s frigidity had arisen, she herself had suggested this welcome compensation for Pride. In return for free rooms and meals, three of her girlfriends would agree to live in the house and have affairs with him. Doubt, possibly the most shameless creature on earth, had thought this an effective way to keep Pride satisfied with their own arrangement.
“Are you sure,” Pride now asked, “that they’ll be willing to—”
“To be your paramours? Of course—relax—I discussed it with them in detail.”
She flicked off her bed lamp.
While Doubt slept, Pride idly thumbed a ladies’ magazine she had brought with her. He paused to stare appreciatively at a picture of a shapely redhead; a chic, proud beauty. If only these friends of Doubt, he thought, would look like that. But Doubt had prepared him for no such
miracles. This redhead was one in a million.
Still, with three girls to choose from, how could he go wrong?