Fallen, page 17
“You look wonderful, Grace.” She folded her mouth into a small smile.
Her aunt didn’t respond.
Dane lifted his glass. “To fortunate circumstances,” he said.
Ani raised hers as well, and then tried her wine. As did Daniel, whose features immediately contorted into something resembling a prune. “It tastes like dirt!”
“All the best wines do.”
“Really?”
Dane nodded. “Really.”
“Why?”
“The answer to that question lies in a host of complicated factors, having to do with where and how the grapes are grown.”
“Huh.” Daniel put his glass down.
The wine did taste a little like dirt, but Ani liked it. She took a sip, and then another. Then, she tried her roast. Her first bite was hesitant, but it was marvelous. She didn’t think she’d ever eaten anything so delicious in her entire life. The same caliber of wine had been used in the sauce and—something else. She considered for a minute. Blackberries. And the potatoes, oh, God.
Dane turned to her. “This is to your liking?”
“Oh, yes.”
Dane refilled her glass. She hadn’t realized she’d emptied it. Already, her head was swimming. “I live to please, pet.”
Daniel burped.
“So,” Grace said, setting down her fork, “we had a horrible afternoon.”
Ani frowned. “You did?”
“Actually,” Daniel began, but his mother cut him off.
“Yes. You tell me you like this dress but….” She plucked at the expensive material. “It’s horrible. Not my color at all.”
Except it was, Ani wanted to point out. Grace’s signature palette gave her an unfortunate resemblance to an overstuffed sausage. Instead, though, she simply listened. And grew progressively more mortified. Grace didn’t just hate her clothes, her clothes which were a gift, she hated everything.
“The bath, in my washroom, is too small. And there’s a breeze.”
“Did you consider closing the vent?”
“I couldn’t possibly reach so high.”
The vent was at wainscot height, and Grace was a tall woman.
“I see,” said Dane.
“I want to go home.”
Dane sipped his wine. His eyes on Grace’s were cool. “By all means.”
“Daniel,” Grace began, “we—”
“Daniel,” Dane cut in, both his voice and demeanor perfectly calm, “remains here.”
“Well.” Grace sniffed. “Well.”
“A nomadic condition isn’t suitable for a child. Daniel needs to enroll in school and—”
“Can’t I just—not?”
Dane turned to him. “No.” And then, “you’re going to be attending my alma mater, at the start of the next term.” He said this as though that particular school wasn’t the most exclusive in New Victoria. Then again Dane’s reputation—and money—opened doors. He’d undoubtedly never worried about actually applying for anything in his life. “Please remove your fingers from your plate,” he added, as though they were all experiencing the most normal dinner in the world.
Daniel did.
“Now look here, I am his mother and I—”
The look Dane turned on her then was positively frigid. Whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips as she stared. “And I’ve seen absolutely no evidence,” he said, “of you acting as one. The boy’s just been through a traumatic event and he needs stability, not to be uprooted at every whim.”
“You’re not his father,” Grace hissed.
“No, I—”
“His father is dead.”
The silence crashed down like thunder.
Daniel began to sob.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Black Forest Cake
“Yet he still needs one.” Dane’s eyes blazed.
Ani was terrified that he was about to sink his fingers into Grace’s neck and strangle her to death. She thought she’d seen him angry, before. She’d been mistaken. At Daniel’s tears, he’d transformed. Simply transformed. There was no other way to describe it. She thought very few people had seen the expression on his face, at that moment, and lived.
“You’re being so cold!” Grace lifted her soft, fleshy hands in a protective gesture. As though she could ward him off. Even though he hadn’t moved a muscle. “Here you are, issuing edicts to me and to Daniel like some sort of king and you’ve not once, not once consoled me on the loss of my husband.”
Dane was still so calm, which made him all the more terrifying. “You’ve not once missed him.”
“Well I—”
“Nor,” Dane continued, as though Grace hadn’t spoken, “has it occurred to you that Daniel might have. Daniel or, indeed, Antoinette. You might no longer be a wife but you are, at least in theory, still a mother. That you refuse to recognize this fact, however, does not mean that a void is filled.”
“If you think you’re going to replace me, you—”
“I’ve seen nothing so far, ma’am, that requires replacing.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open.
Ani put her harm around Daniel, who pressed his face into her chest.
“As to your other concern, I utterly fail to see what’s led you to believe that you have any input into my decisions whatsoever. On any topic—or other individual. I do as I see fit, under my own roof.”
“They’re my children!”
“Which you remember, at your convenience.”
“And you’ve—you’ve ruined them!”
Ani buried her nose in Daniel’s hair, and wished to God he wasn’t hearing this. Grace had never been an entirely pleasant woman, even in the best of times. But she’d never been hostile. Not toward Ani, and certainly not toward Daniel. Disapproving, maybe, disinterested, maybe, but that was all. This change was…agonizing, and astonishing.
“Excuse me?”
Instead of responding to Dane, though, Grace addressed Ani. “Everyone here, including you, acts as though I’m being so unreasonable. In not wanting Daniel to flounce about, wasting his time on meaningless things. Wine.” She almost spat the word. “But you seem awfully comfortable.”
Ani didn’t understand.
But Dane did. “I would hope so,” he said mildly. “As this is her home.”
Grace’s eyes, still fixed on Ani’s, narrowed. “Yes, exactly.”
“I don’t….” And she didn’t. She truly didn’t.
Grace turned back to Dane. “Ani isn’t, as you’re no doubt aware, isn’t our natural child. We, my husband and I, took her in after the unfortunate death of her parents. She’s always been a burden to us, but….” Grace had adopted the tone of a suffering saint. “We persevered. It was the right thing to do. We always hoped, though, that she’d repay our sacrifices. Marry someone rich.
“But now.” Grace’s voice hardened. “She can’t marry anyone at all. I’ll—we’ll—be in these terrible straits forever, because she’s allowed you to turn her into your whore.”
Ani jumped, in her seat, like she’d been slapped.
“She’s no good for anything now. After you tire of her, she’ll no doubt end up chained to some flea infested mattress in a dockside brothel, spreading her legs for twenty men or more a day.”
Daniel, having forgotten to cry, was staring at his mother in slack-jawed amazement.
“So you can hardly blame me if I don’t want my son, my only son, skipping blithely down the same path.”
Ani didn’t know what to do. She wanted to crawl away from herself. Seeing this side of her aunt was like cutting into a cake, only to discover that the inside was crawling with maggots. All this time…. And it had all been a lie. But why? Why? She’d never asked to be taken in; she’d been a baby. And they’d known, when they had—they’d known she had nothing.
This hadn’t been how her uncle had felt.
It hadn’t.
“First,” Dane replied, “Antoinette’s choices are her own. To be made freely, by her, according to her own best interests and not with regard to satisfying your needs. They, ma’am, are your concern and yours alone. Second, Antoinette and I are involved. But how, and to what extent, is no business of yours. I can assure you, though, that I do with her as I wish. And that she remains just as pure, and perfect, as ever. No man could ever hope to dim her glow, only to absorb a little of it.
“And, third, this dinner is concluded.” He stood. “So if you’ll excuse us, please, Antoinette and I, and Daniel, will be taking our dessert in the library.”
He held out his hand. Ani placed, her fingers, trembling, into his palm. His fingers, strong and sure, closed over them. She stood, and let herself be led from the dining room. Daniel followed along. Her sweater was still damp from his tears. Her mother, her own—the only mother she’d ever known had just called her a whore. And worse, a…some sort of cautionary tale.
Dane led Ani to the couch in front of the fireplace. Mechanically, she sat. He sat down next to her. His arm was around her shoulders but she barely felt it. Daniel selected a book, a different one than he’d been reading earlier, and went to sit cross-legged near the fireplace screen. He opened the book to a random page, and stared.
“I received word,” Dane said. “Just before dinner. Your father has been located.”
Ani watched the flames dance.
“We can arrange for the funeral, as soon as you wish.”
She wanted to close her eyes and just float. Just rest. She didn’t want to have to think about anything except the fire, and how warm it was, and possibly cake. She wanted to escape. And then maybe, just maybe, discuss how one might go about planning a funeral. She never had, before. Dane, though, might know.
Instead, behind her, once again, she heard a footstep.
She recognized that footstep.
Grace, astonishingly, had joined them.
“Well,” she said, arranging herself in a chair. Well. Ani was getting so sick of hearing that word. “What’s for dessert?”
Mrs. Buchannan appeared, at that moment, with a tray. She fixed a glare on Grace, confirming Ani’s suspicion that she’d heard every word. Then again, she could hardly have avoided doing so; the kitchens adjoined the dining room, as they did in most houses. On the tray was a black forest cake, but instead of hurling it at Grace’s head she set it down on the table.
“I’d like a drink,” Grace said.
Mrs. Buchannan turned to Dane, and waited.
“Sherry, please,” Dane said.
Mrs. Buchannan disappeared.
Everyone looked at each other.
When Mrs. Buchannan appeared again, she gave a glass of sherry to Ani and then one to Dane. Finally, she placed a cup of hot chocolate on the floor next to Daniel. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Then, straightening, she swept toward the door.
Grace frowned. “What about my drink?”
Mrs. Buchannan turned. “There’s a decanter on the sideboard.”
Grace sniffed. “That woman.”
Her aunt might not be able to take a hint, but Ani could. If this was really anyone’s house, it was Mrs. Buchannan’s. And Jefferson’s. They kept it going and they, more importantly, were its beating heart. Its warmth. They’d accepted Ani, partly because Dane did but partly, Ani knew, because she’d accepted them—and their value. She also knew that if her aunt stayed here too much longer, Mrs. Buchannan would start peeing into her soup. And, as far as Ani was concerned, with good cause.
Or maybe Jefferson would take on the task of helping Grace to fully appreciate the depth of her welcome.
Which, speak of the devil, he came in to check on the fire. He stoked it with a poker and then added another log. Daniel, looking up from the book that lay open on his lap and largely forgotten, watched the older man watch the fire. After a minute, he worked up the courage to speak. “Sir?”
Jefferson knelt down, so that he and Daniel were on a level. “Jefferson,” he corrected. His tone was gentle. “But you, young master, may call me Scott. How might I be of service?”
“Can I…can I see the kitchens?”
“Yes, of course. There’s more hot chocolate in the kitchens, too,” he added. “And cake.”
Daniel looked at Ani for permission. She nodded. She wished she could hide in the kitchens, too.
Instead, she was left facing her aunt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Victimized
Grace adjusted herself in her chair. She clearly felt victimized. Ani hoped that it was just as clear how much she, herself, didn’t care. How, she asked herself for the millionth time, had everything gone so wrong—and so quickly? This couldn’t be the woman she’d grown up with. And yet it was. Somehow, it was.
After what felt like a lifetime, Grace stood up. “I’m going to bed.”
“Yes,” Dane said. “Please do. I can see that you’ve overwhelmed yourself with grief.”
Grace shot him a look, but—mercifully—kept her mouth shut.
Ani waited until her aunt’s retreating footsteps were no longer audible and then let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.
Dane sipped his sherry. After a minute, Ani tried hers, too. “This isn’t bad.”
“I rather like it.”
Ani smiled. Probably only because she’d drunk too much wine at dinner. She’d thought that Grace’s sudden explosion had sobered her completely but no, the pleasant buzzing was still there. It was all the more pleasant, now, too, that Grace was gone. “So,” she said. “Scott.”
“Yes. And Buchannan’s proper name is Charla. She hates it, though; she claims it doesn’t suit her.”
Ani felt herself relaxing into the cushions of the couch. “You’ve known her a long time.”
“She was my nurse.”
And here, Dane had surprised her again.
“Grace….” Dane considered. His sherry twinkled in the reflected glow of the fire. The already deep amber looked almost ruby. It gave his skin a warm cast, too. Making him seem, Ani thought, far less cold and aloof than usual. Almost human. She had a brief vision of him, kneeling by the side of the tub, his shirtsleeves rolled up and water splashed down his front. She shifted in her seat.
“Grace,” he began again, “is upset that she’s been displaced. Which excuses nothing, of course. But I find, personally, that it often helps to…understand. A person’s motives. Their situation.”
Ani nodded, slowly. She couldn’t imagine how. But she also couldn’t imagine feeling any worse.
“She’s gone from being the mistress of her own domain to being entirely dependent on charity.”
“She was the master, before, as well.” Ani spoke quietly. “My uncle…let her do as she pleased. She thought, because he was too weak to stand up to her. But it was because he loved her.” And now her aunt was living with a man who never rolled over, for anything.
Or anyone.
“A woman both conscious of her social status, and expectant of…favors. This is a dangerous combination, Antoinette.”
Ani couldn’t help herself. “For a man as well?”
Dane arched an eyebrow. “For a man, even more so.”
“I always thought….” Ani stared into the depths of her glass, willing answers to appear there. “I always thought that we were close. Or, at least, close enough. Not like you and your uncle, but….”
“No two people should be as close as me and my uncle.”
“I didn’t think things were terrible.”
“I know.”
“Lisa and her parents get along. More or less. And I thought….” Ani waved her hand in a helpless gesture. “I thought we were more like that. Lisa endlessly aggravates her parents but they love her. Whereas Grace….” She forced herself to voice the thought aloud. “I knew she wanted me to get married. I mean. Really. She made no secret of that. But I thought it was because she loved me and wanted me to be happy.” And, in Grace’s old fashioned mind, marriage was the only thing that could make any woman happy. “Not that she wanted….”
Dane stroked Ani’s hair.
“She has so much rage.” And rage, Ani knew, didn’t simply appear out of nowhere. What had caused it? And how, most importantly of all, had Grace kept it a secret all this time?
“I know.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
Dane put his glass down. “I would have deposited her on the curb, naked, like that proverbial bag of trash you’re so fond of mentioning, but for a vague notion that you might have been upset. Due to some misplaced sense of loyalty to the woman and, I suppose, on Daniel’s behalf as well.”
This was like how, earlier, he hadn’t run down the chicken. He hadn’t suddenly grown some sort of conscience; he liked to see things suffer, and die. He merely…sensed that she was different.
Ani didn’t know whether to be flattered, or horrified.
“Instead, I’m presenting you with a choice: she can leave tonight, or she can remain with us until after the funeral.”
“What about Daniel?”
“Daniel lives here, now.”
“I…see.”
“We can file a petition for guardianship.”
“You mean you can.” Ani’s tone was bitter. Dane, as a man, had all the power. Forgetting even for the moment that he wasn’t just some man but Dane Edward Asquith-Long. There was no court in New Victoria that would balk him. Meanwhile, Ani was just…a woman. And women, no matter who their friends were or who they claimed as relations, couldn’t do anything. Including advocate for themselves, or their own interests, in court. They had to rely on the men in their lives to do that.
“Which reminds me, Antoinette. There’s something we need to discuss.”
She never found out what that was, though, because Daniel reappeared.
“This room.” Dane rolled his eyes. “In and out, in and out. I’m beginning to feel as though I’m spending my night at a train station.”
Daniel resumed his former spot. He’d grown a little more animated, though. He licked a crumb of cake from his lip. He’d undoubtedly just eaten his weight worth of it. Which was good; he could use a little indulgence. And a little distraction. His eyes moved back and forth, from Dane to Ani. Then they settled on Dane. “Your parents. Did they love each other?”
