Fallen, p.5
Fallen, page 5
Or was it George?
“It’s easy for us to call ourselves kings, when we’ve reduced everyone else to chattel.”
“No we haven’t. Upward mobility is still a thing.”
Ani grimaced. “Not for women.”
Lisa laughed. “Women achieve upward mobility through marriage.”
“Which is disgusting.”
“Speak for yourself. I want a rich husband.”
Ani wondered if Lisa had gotten her chance to flirt with Jasper, and decided to ask her later. Just because no one was listening to them, didn’t mean they wouldn’t start if she suddenly began discussing their host’s love life. She hoped Lisa had, for Lisa’s sake, even though she disapproved. Lisa had a right to be happy, just like everyone else did. Ani only wished that people—female people—got to decide, for themselves, what constituted happy.
She couldn’t believe that Archer had been so nonchalant about Violet. And Archer was supposed to be enlightened! She couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even though some part of her told her that she was probably overreacting. Archer hadn’t made this world.
No, but he’d accepted it.
She also couldn’t help but ask herself whether he’d been serious, earlier.
“I’m going to take another walk around,” Lisa said. “Shave a few calories off that dinner and see if I can see anything gossip worthy. Are you coming?”
“No, I have to go home.”
“Already?”
“My aunt and uncle are….” Ani struggled for an excuse.
“Old,” Lisa finished. “Well, okay then. See you tomorrow!”
She gave Ani a hug and was gone.
Ani, who still hadn’t spotted her aunt and uncle, headed toward the mansion’s grand foyer. She felt uncomfortably full and, despite the fact that she was supposed to be young and full of energy, exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to go home. And then, once there, to crawl into her bed and do nothing and think about nothing unless and until she absolutely had to.
Things had been confusing before but over the course of this miserable day they’d gotten ten times more confusing and she felt like her brain was breaking.
From the other side of the grand foyer came her aunt’s ringing, somewhat embarrassing laugh. She headed toward it, relieved that escape was within her grasp. Her aunt was near the door; she was ready to go. And wherever Grace was, William couldn’t be too far behind. Hopefully still sober enough to get them all home without spinning out of control and plowing into a tree.
So occupied was she with this pleasant series of thoughts that she was totally unprepared when disaster struck. Again. “Antoinette,” came the voice, “allow me to introduce you to some friends.”
She stopped. She had no choice but to stop. To do anything else would be to humiliate herself. A guest, running screaming from her host? And to where, exactly? Fixing a smile on her face, or what she hoped looked like a smile, she pretended not to want to scream.
Dane put his arm around her, and she felt her flesh tingle. He knew he could; he knew he had her trapped. She could only be grateful that he wasn’t doing worse. Although then she would scream and embarrassment be damned. “This, darling, is Violet Howard-Hill. And this is her lesser half, Louis. And this,” he continued, completing the introduction, “is Antoinette.”
No last name for her.
Violet’s enthusiasm seemed genuine. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”
Finally?
“Yes.” Dane’s tone was smooth, cultured. And cool, just like his gaze. Which, as always, was also uncomfortably appraising. “Antoinette prefers to hide.”
“Most artists do,” Louis observed.
Ani had been prepared to hate Louis, but now that she was seeing him up close she wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t look like a kidnapper, whatever a kidnapper was supposed to look like. He was reasonably handsome; he must have been fantastically so a decade earlier. But that wasn’t the problem; plenty of monsters were, to quote her aunt, easy on the eyes. Dane certainly was, and he was the biggest monster of them all. No, it was…he was so stodgy!
And he was clearly in love with Violet. No, in love with was the wrong term. He worshipped the ground she walked on. That much was obvious from how he looked at her.
“We’d love to see some of your art,” Violet said, “that is, if you’d consent to a showing. But first, my husband needs some time to recover. For your sake, and mine, if not his.” Violet’s eyes, as she mentioned him, grew warm. There was a sparkle of humor there, too. She clearly found the man amusing, but not in a manner that suggested resentment. She was laughing with him, and not at him. “He’s usually more eloquent. At least, a bit more.” She made a pinching motion with her thumb and index finger.
“Hey, now! I’m the most eloquent man alive!”
“You think so, dear. When you’ve been drinking.”
“And your driver is…?” Dane arched an eyebrow.
“Bringing the car around.”
Ani was profoundly glad, in that moment, that there was a driver. And more than a little shocked, she had to admit, that Dane cared one way or the other. Dane, who was—infuriatingly—acting like his introducing her to people was the most normal thing in the world.
Violet whispered something into her husband’s ear. He smiled, and then she kissed him on the cheek. Ani had thought, when she’d first realized that she’d have to talk to her, that it would be uncomfortable. That here was someone else who was trapped. Except Violet seemed like the least trapped person in the world. Maybe…all brainwashed people did?
Ani had seen pictures of people who’d been…reeducated, after the war. Most of them had seemed calm enough. Some of them had even been smiling. But all of them had been missing a certain light in their eyes. A light that Violet had in abundance.
Archer, she concluded, must’ve been wrong.
There was simply no other explanation.
And then, “I’m so glad, sweetheart, that you married me and not that other louche.”
“You didn’t,” Violet replied, laughing, “give me much of a choice.”
Ani wondered what kind of a horrible person she was that, in spite of Violet and her husband—her so-called husband—and everything their union, their deeply troubling and confounding union, proved was horrible about everything in New Victoria, she was still worried about something else. Something exceedingly, deeply selfish. She didn’t—what if they got the wrong idea about her and Dane? Violet seemed nice enough; in fact, she seemed very nice. But Ani wanted nothing to do with Louis, or anyone else in Dane’s social circle. And she certainly didn’t want them to think that she was…that he had any kind of claim on her.
Because he didn’t.
And he never would.
She would not be another Violet.
Violet, who was gazing at her husband like he was the most wonderful man in the world.
“We should go,” she said.
So Louis shook Ani’s hand, and said something congratulatory to Dane about his uncle and the party and then Violet hugged her and kissed her, leaving behind a trace of her perfume.
And then, Ani was alone with Dane.
A great many people seemed to have left, while she’d been talking to Louis and Violet. Louis and Violet, who’d apparently heard about her art. And what else? Ani looked around, hoping that somehow they’d magically return. That anyone would. She didn’t even see her aunt. Well, surely Grace and William hadn’t left without her. Had they?
She stepped back, slightly. Dane let his arm fall. “My name is Ani,” she said.
“Your name,” he corrected, “is Antoinette. Your pet name is Ani. Given to you, I presume, by your aunt and uncle? So it’s strange that you should claim ownership of it, when it represents no more ownership of your own will. Besides, Ani isn’t graceful; you are.”
“Given to me by my parents,” Ani said quietly.
“Who also christened you Antoinette.”
That they had.
“Thank you for meeting Violet and Louis.”
“You don’t have the right to introduce me to anyone like I’m—like I’m….” Ani trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed. She was angry or, at least, she thought she was angry. But she’d never been good at allowing herself to really feel certain things. Too many years, she supposed, of being told that so much about her was wrong. Including, most of the time, her responses. She’d been angry enough at dinner, though; normally she would’ve just sat there, biting her tongue.
This had been a day of firsts.
“Yes?” Dane arched an eyebrow.
“Never mind.”
“I would have liked for you to meet them sooner. But the table arrangements somehow got confused. I should have confirmed them with the event planner, though. So the fault is mine. I apologize.”
As though she’d wanted to sit with him.
And…apologize?
“I hope you weren’t too miserable, though, with George? And Fred, he and I went to school together.”
“I was.” Ani couldn’t help the honest response; she really was tired. “They were repulsive. Both of them. In fact, I’d be hard pressed to tell you which of them was more repulsive. Although I asked myself that very question all during dinner; I felt like a judge at some beauty pageant in hell.”
Dane laughed. Then his expression, and his tone, turned serious. “Was either of them rude or…inappropriate?”
“I…no.” At this turn, Ani found herself than a little flustered. Dane was both! What did he care, if his friends treated her as badly as he did? “Fred even went so far as to assure me that he wouldn’t kill me. They just…I hate them, is all. They’re cold and callous and they think that makes them wonderful!” Ani wondered, as she was speaking, why she was telling Dane any of this.
Dane’s gaze darkened. Ani was reminded of nothing so much as the gathering of storm clouds. “Did either of them touch you?”
“God, no.” Ani was revolted by the mere idea. “I suppose,” she said, with some asperity, “that by your lights they were perfect gentlemen. They did absolutely nothing except attempt to entertain me with stories of murder and mayhem and then justifications for both.”
“They’d better have been.”
Gentlemen, he meant. Ani had thought, at first, that Dane’s anger had been for her. But no, it had been entirely for the idea that either Fred, or George, or both of them together might’ve bothered her. Bothered, at least, beyond the point considered acceptable in their society.
“And Archer?” Dane’s tone was once again light. Deceptively light.
“What about him?”
“Do you hate him?”
“No, of course not.”
“I see.”
There was silence.
“We’re friends. Because he’s funny and charming and,” she added, feeling a perverse sort of pleasure in doing so, “because he doesn’t think it’s unrealistic for a man to devote himself to only one woman—or to treat her with respect. And he appreciates my views.” Although he didn’t, Ani knew, agree with them. Then again, no one did. She’d settle, these days, for a simple lack of disdain.
“Which reminds me. There’s something I wanted to discuss with you. When I said earlier that—”
“Ani! There you are!”
It was Grace, beaming enthusiastically.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Consequences
“We need a new car.”
William glanced at his wife. They’d been driving for about ten minutes, after finally leaving the so-called party. “We can’t afford one,” he said.
Grace sniffed. “Then we should have at least rented one, for the day.”
William didn’t respond. And for awhile, they drove in silence. He hadn’t, as it had turned out, had too much to drink. He’d barely had anything to drink at all; he’d been too busy trying to sell things, at least according to Grace. As embarrassed as Ani might’ve been by that, though, she was mainly relieved that she’d been rescued—however inadvertently—from Dane. And if her uncle had embarrassed them all so thoroughly that they’d never be able to leave their home again, so much the better!
At least, then, she wouldn’t have to endure another day like this.
He stared fixedly ahead, his hands on the wheel. They were driving through the countryside that surrounded Sutton Hall. It extended for miles and miles in every direction. Every mile or so, there was another turn off to another great estate. Another atrociously ostentatious gate, another set of warnings about the consequences of trespassing. Ani thought, rather uncharitably, that anyone stupid enough to need a warning probably deserved to get shot. Well, no, no one deserved to get shot. But they lived in a world of violence; everyone had guns.
Everyone, that was, except Ani.
Still, gun or no gun, she wouldn’t trespass. Because people were crazy. And the law gave you plenty of opportunities to murder, outside of the Purge. It didn’t matter if you weren’t doing anything; you could be taking a nap on someone’s lawn and they’d still have the right to shoot you there on the ground while you slept for flattening the grass. A man’s domain was his castle, even when he didn’t own a castle. So he was doubly justified when he did.
She wondered how many people Dane had shot.
Probably hundreds.
Had Archer ever shot anyone? She’d assumed no but…she’d never asked. Because…. She let the thought hang, feeling troubled. Archer wasn’t like everyone else. Archer was enlightened. Archer was her friend. And she wouldn’t—she couldn’t—be friends with someone who’d do the things that other people did. Could she? Archer was so nice.
Except, a nagging voice reminded her, he hadn’t been that nice at dinner. Oh, he hadn’t been mean. But he hadn’t exactly disagreed with Fred, either. Sure they worked together but…he didn’t need the money. And…surely, if he hated his coworkers that much, he could find other employment?
But no, he and Fred were friends. And he and George were friends. Just like he and Ani were friends.
Or maybe…more than friends?
William suddenly turned to his wife. “And what purpose would that serve?”
“What?”
“Hiring out a car.”
“Because this car,” came the acidic response, “is a piece of junk.”
Ani was glad that she was in the backseat, being ignored. She’d heard this argument, and others like it, before. Her aunt wanted things. So did everybody else. She was a materialistic person living in a materialistic society. Ani might not care that people judged her on the cost of her shoes, but she was mature enough to recognize herself as the oddball. And spending time in Jasper’s world was enough to make anyone feel insecure.
She also understood her uncle’s position. Or at least she thought she did. What Jasper had, what his world was like…. He was as untouchable as the king. And, realistically, trying to keep up with him was about as futile—and as dangerous—as trying to grant yourself a crown. There were different worlds, dozens or maybe hundreds or even thousands of them, all stacked on top of each other. William and Grace had a perfectly nice life, just like a lot of other people. The might not have the best of everything, but they didn’t want. Which, considering how so many people lived, in New Victoria and all over the world, was something significant.
But instead of being grateful for what they had, too many people spent their lives dwelling on what they didn’t—and spent their lives miserable.
“This car,” William grated, “is not a piece of junk.”
Ani had been going to suggest stopping for ice cream, but decided not to. She might understand both sides, but they didn’t. Her aunt and uncle, for all that they seemed content enough with each other most of the time, were as inscrutable to each other as dogs were to cats. And visa versa.
Instead, she settled in for what had just become a much longer ride.
“It’s five years old.”
“So?”
“It’s embarrassing.” Grace had adopted that faux-patient tone that said she was angry.
Really angry.
“It’s more embarrassing to play at being something you’re not.”
“Oh!” Grace threw her hands up in the air. “You’re a fine one to talk. Mister Buy My Security Systems. This was supposed to be a party, William, not a convention. But there you were, passing out business cards! Just like some groveling, sniveling—”
“Enough!” William’s knuckles were white on the wheel. “Someone has to pay our bills, bills you keep generating. Or are you proposing that I retire to the lifestyle of a gentleman while you get a job?”
“How dare you!”
Ani sighed.
Her aunt, a traditionalist, thought that suggesting a woman work was tantamount to torture. But for all that she wanted to stay home and arrange flowers, she also wanted to be in control: of the very same things she had no control over, because she’d insisted on such a conventional role. If she wanted things like fancier cars, maybe she should get a job. Some women did.
Even women from the class that Grace aspired to join.
It was easier, for them; money, and connections, and all the other trappings opened doors. Moreover, no one would dare criticize a daughter of Jasper’s who wanted to do something like start her own business. Which was the only reason that Ani had ever fantasized about being more than middle class. She wanted freedom. Real freedom. The kind of freedom that came from never having to care what anyone else said or did. Ever. The kind of freedom that meant you never had to conform.
Imagine if someone like her uncle started hosting orgies! He’d become a social pariah. But because Jasper did it and no one wanted to offend Jasper….
“You’re so selfish, William.”
“Selfish? You’re calling me selfish?”
“All this chasing people around, demanding their money, it’s bad for Ani’s prospects!”
“Don’t bring Ani into this.”
