To Her That Hath
By Laura Schiller
Based on: The Blue Castle
Copyright: the heirs of L. M. Montgomery
To him that hath shall be given, but from him that hath not shall be taken even that which he hath.
Other people might puzzle over this Biblical verse, but Olive Stirling had never had any trouble understanding it; it described perfectly the relationship between her and her old-maid cousin Doss. Olive had been used to smile complacently to herself whenever the Rev. Dr. Stalling read that passage, secure in the knowledge that she was one of the 'haves' of this world, and always would be. Now the sight or sound of that verse made her want to scream – if she hadn't been a Stirling, she actually might have.
Olive stared at her reflection in her elegant gilt mirror with empty eyes. Of course she was beautiful – rosy-cheeked, glossy-haired, full-figured and wearing a most elegant lace nightgown. Invitations to teas, dances and other social outings fringed the edges of the mirror, and a photograph of Cecil, her fiancé, just as handsome and even wealthier than herself, stood on top of her vanity table. And yet, she scowled.
All her life she had derived a certain satisfaction out of outshining every girl she knew, including Doss. It had been such a comfort to her that the only female cousin her age was such a drab, mousy little thing; being near her had given Olive an agreeable consciousness of looking twice as gorgeous in comparison. Doss had never had a beau all her life, and therefore had been quite unable to interrupt Olive's tales of her love-affairs with any confidences of her own. Really, she had been a most convenient cousin.
And now – this!
Olive saw them everywhere – them being Bernard Redfern, son of a millionaire, and Doss, his charming, stylish, radiantly happy bride. Doss, who had disgraced the family by running away from home, keeping house for the drunken Roaring Abel, and asking Redfern to marry her. Doss had put on just enough weight, but would never go to fat like Olive's mother and (she suspected, in certain horrible moments at three a.m.) Olive herself. Doss wasn't half as pretty as Olive, but her slanted amber eyes and ethereal appearance still made men's heads turn on the street. Doss had been baptized with a rare and fascinating name, Valancy, and refused to answer to anything else these days. Olive had never forgiven her mother for naming her after a foreign vegetable. It was a complete turning of the scale – Olive, who had so much enjoyed being envied, was now sick with envy herself.
It wasn't so much the name, the fashions or even Valancy's looks that haunted Olive. The main thing was that Valancy was happy – would be just as happy, oddly enough, if her husband weren't a millionaire. Whenever the two of them came for a visit, they looked like they were enjoying some delicious secret joke; their eyes laughed to each other across the decorous Stirling dinner table in a way that seemed to shut everybody else out. They walked hand in hand and kissed in public, and he called her 'Moonlight', looking as if he really meant it. What really hurt Olive – and yes, she was hurt – was that she began to fear she would never have the same.
Cecil didn't love her. He couldn't. He had been on the verge of jilting her just for being Valancy's cousin, and his ardor had not re-ignited until after the true identity of Valancy's husband had been found out. Cecil was a Price of Port Lawrence who had his family's standing to consider, just as Olive had her Stirling pride. And for the first time in her life, Olive asked herself if that was really a good thing.
The Stirling clan as a whole had been very rude to Bernard Redfern before finding out whose son he was – and still he had not rejected Valancy for it.
All her life, Olive had followed convention – and what had it brought her? A tedious existence of gossip and fashion, as empty and cloying as cotton candy. A family as dull as houseflies, only substantially louder. An engagement kept up for appearances' sake and a diamond ring that weighed on her finger like a little ball and chain. All her years of straight posture, charming manners, fabulous clothes and vicious-but-ladylike competition with her female peers had come to nothing.
One year earlier, Valancy would have given the world to change places with Olive. Now Olive, in her secret heart, wished the same.
Valancy bobbed her hair, wore necklaces made of clovers, called their Uncle Herbert 'old dear' and said things like 'The trouble with you people is that you don't laugh enough'. She had, to use her own phrase, 'gained a husband by her own unaided efforts'. By taking care of Roaring Abel and his daughter, the town pariahs, she had defied the entire clan by the force of her moral conviction – something Olive would never dare to do. That courage, that spark, was what Valancy had, and Olive had not. Perhaps this, after all, was the true meaning of that horrid Bible verse.
It's not fair! Olive wailed. Deep down inside, however, she knew that it was – and that, in the last analysis, was what Olive really could not forgive.