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Marbleton told us in class recently. Didn't she, Luke?" Luke only nodded. He looked upset, deeply wounded, his eyes down, his shoulders turned in the way Daddy's would be when something disturbed him. Luke had so many of Daddy's gestures.

"I'm sure she didn't mean making up stories about Farthy," Drake responded and smirked.

"But don't you always wonder what Farthy is really like, Drake?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"One of these days, I'll take off some time from college and just go there. It's not far from Boston," he added nonchalantly.

"Will you really?" The idea filled me with envy. "Sure, why not?"

"But Mommy and Daddy hate to talk about it," I reminded him. "They would be furious if you went there."

"So . . I won't tell them," Drake said. "I'll only tell you. It'll be our secret, Annie," he added, looking pointedly at Luke.

Luke and I looked at each other. Drake didn't have our intensity when it came to talking about the past and Farthy.

Occasionally I would sneak a look at the wonderful pictures of Mommy and Daddy's fabulous wedding reception held at Farthinggale: pictures of so many elegant people, men in tuxedoes and women in stylish gowns, tables and tables of food and servants rushing about everywhere, carrying trays of champagne goblets.

And there was a picture of Mommy and Tony Tatterton dancing. He looked so debonair, like a movie star; and Mommy looked so vibrant and fresh, her cornflower-blue eyes, the eyes I inherited, dazzling. When I looked at that picture, it was hard to believe that he could do anything so terrible to turn her against him. How sad and mysterious it all was. It was what often drew me back to the pictures, as if studying them would reveal the dark secret.

"I wonder if I will ever see how elegant and fabulous it really is," I said, half as a question and half as a wis

h. "I'm even jealous that you were there at the age of five, Drake. At least you have that memory, as distant as it is."

"Sixteen years," Luke said skeptically.

"Still, he can close his eyes and remember something, see something," I insisted. "What I see of Farthy is only what I create out of my imagination. How close have I come? If only my mother would be willing to talk about it. If only we could visit. We could ignore Tony Tatterton; we wouldn't even look at the man. I wouldn't say a word to him, if she forbade it, but at least we could wander about and . ."

"Annie!"

Luke jumped to his feet as my mother stepped around the corner of the house where she had obviously been listening to our conversation. Drake nodded as though he had expected her to make such an abrupt appearance.

"Yes, Mommy?" I retreated behind my easel. She looked at Luke, who quickly shifted his eyes away, and then she approached me, avoiding any look at my canvas.

"Annie," she said softly, her eyes filled with a deep, inner sorrow, "haven't I asked you not to torment yourself and me by talking about

Farthinggale?"

"I warned them," Drake said.

"Why don't you listen to your uncle, honey. He's old enough to understand."

"Yes, Mother." Even as sad as she looked, she was beautiful, her complexion rosy, her figure as firm and as youthful as it was the day she and my father were married. Everyone who saw us together had the same reaction, especially men. "You two look more like sisters than mother and daughter."

"I've told you how unpleasant it is for me to remember my days there. Believe me, it is no fairytale castle. There are no handsome young princes waiting to swoon at your feet. You and Luke shouldn't . . . pretend such things."

"I tried to stop them," Drake said. "They play this silly fantasy game."

"It's not so silly," I protested. "Everyone fantasizes."

"They act like grade-school children

sometimes," Drake insisted. "Luke encourages her."

"What?" Luke looked at my mother, his eyes lighting with fear. I knew how important it was to him that she like him. "No he doesn't," I cried. "It's just as much my fault."

"Oh, please, let's not dwell on it," Mother pleaded. "If you must pretend, there are so many wonderful subjects, places, things to think about," she added, changing her tone of voice to a lighter, happier one. She smiled at Drake. "You look so collegiate in your Harvard sweater, Drake. I bet you're anxious to get back," she said, and then turned to Luke. "I hope you'll be as excited about college as Drake is, Luke."