Fallen, page 25
“I promise, however, to be home at a reasonable hour.”
“So we can share our happy news, together?” Ani couldn’t keep the amusement out of her voice. Announcing one’s engagement, especially to a man like Dane, was supposed to be a happy thing. But Ani had a sinking suspicion that Grace’s reaction would be anything but enthusiastic.
“I do not intend to let you face that cow alone.”
Ani smiled.
“And what do you intend to do, in the meantime?”
“I,” Ani said, “am going to paint.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Convenient
Ani brushed an errant strand of hair from her face, leaving a smear of paint above her eyebrow. She didn’t care; she was too absorbed in the canvas in front of her. Although the temperature outside had dropped to nearly zero, the air inside the orangerie—her studio—was warm. It smelled of turpentine, and linseed oil, and other comforting things.
She’d hung the key up on a hook; she saw no need to lock herself in, or anyone else out. Still, she was surprised to hear a knock and then, when she looked up, see the door open. There, framed against the shadows inside the house, stood Mrs. Buchannan. Her expression was as unpleasant as if she’d just been force fed a cockroach. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said stiffly.
That someone, with a shove, burst in past her.
And stopped.
Ani’s eyes widened.
Archer.
He stared, as though surprised by what he’d just done.
“Should I call Jefferson?”
Ani shook her head. “No. I’ll see him.”
Mrs. Buchannan said nothing, but she didn’t need to. Her distaste for the intruder, and for the entire situation, was writ clear on her face. She studied him for a long moment, before turning and leaving. She didn’t shut the door, and Ani was sure that she was standing on the other side of it.
Not that she minded. She didn’t particularly want to be alone with her erstwhile friend. What had he come here for? To gloat? If he thought he was going to break the bad news about Grace, and her…lively widowhood, he had another thing coming. The entire city knew and, at this point, Ani honestly didn’t care. Grace really could set up with a moose, and charge a guilder to watch, and she couldn’t upset Ani any more than she already had with her self-absorption, anger, and indifference.
“Ani,” he began, “I want to apologize.” He’d taken off his hat, and was holding it. He paused, and glanced around, as though he might’ve somehow overlooked a convenient tree.
Ani waited.
She’d hear him out, but she wasn’t going to help him along.
“I didn’t…mean to hurt you. Before. At the funeral. But damn it, Ani.” He’d had a frail hold on his composure to begin with; now it was gone entirely. “Your uncle, he was a fool. He caused this. Not anyone else and not—and certainly not you. And I’m not saying that, therefore, he deserved to die. Although honestly, the only thing that bothers me about the fact that he did is that it hurt you.”
“I see.”
“You know I supported—still support the Purge.”
“I know.”
“This is our world.”
“It’s your world.” Ani, in contrast, found it strangely easy to remain calm.
“Because you’re rejecting it, by living here.” The scorn was plain in his voice.
It cut Ani, deeply. Archer’s whole attitude reminded her of Grace’s; what, was he going to accuse her of being a whore, next? The man who really would kneel down in front of Dane and suck his cock, if he thought doing so might give him a chance at a better job? But she kept her face impassive. She wouldn’t let Archer see. She might not have much, anymore, even privacy, but she had dignity. Dignity she’d claimed, at a cost, for herself.
“Dane told me what you did,” she said.
“What I did?”
“You’d neglected to mention your secondary business pursuit. Or is it your first, and the other is merely a cover?” Her tone, along with her eyes, hardened. “Tell me, do you collect the debts yourself or do you hire others beat them out of those that owe them for you?”
“Ani, I don’t…. There wouldn’t be men like me, if there wasn’t first a need for them.”
“So you admit it.”
“Yes.”
“Is that why you’ve come? To confess your sins to me, and be absolved?”
“I’m here—I’m here to rescue you.”
“And that, I suppose, was how you planned on being my knight in shining armor: by first making use of his desperation to trap my uncle under the weight of debt after mounting debt that he could never hope to repay, and then beating him to a pulp? Or did you finally realize that beating would do no good, and have him killed?”
“I didn’t—”
“Even if you didn’t, which I’m not sure I believe, you might as well have. He didn’t know he was drowning. But you did.” Her eyes held his. “You did.”
“It was business.”
“Not to me.” And then, “what are you here to rescue me from, sentimentality?”
“Dane.”
Whatever answer Ani had been expecting, it hadn’t been that.
She half expected, at the mention of their master’s name, for Mrs. Buchannan and Jefferson to come barging through the door. Jefferson, Ani happened to know, carried a gun. But there was nothing.
“The night of the Purge he—you were all alone. And he kidnapped you. But if he did that now, Ani, today, he’d be arrested. Yes, even the mighty Mr. Asquith-Long. You don’t have to stay.”
“Yes, you’re right. I was all alone. Which you knew just as well then, as now.”
“Meaning what?”
“You didn’t lift a finger to help me. Not that night, and not the morning after.”
“So you’re defending him?”
“Yes.”
“But you—Ani, you hate him. This isn’t….” He shook his head. “This isn’t you.”
How little he knew.
“What did he do? Brainwash you?”
She drew in a deep breath, and exhaled. “He offered me love.”
Archer glanced down, and it was then that he saw the ring. “Oh, my God.”
Ani, once again, said nothing.
“And now you’re marrying him?” He threw his hat down, and it slid across the tile. “He offered you love?” Archer’s tone was incredulous. He made it sound like Dane had offered her the proverbial new lamp for old, and he was now marveling at what a fool she’d turned out to be. “Love? He loves you like the spider loves the fly.” Archer’s laugh was mirthless. “I don’t know what this engagement hoax is about but trust me, it is a hoax. He’ll extract whatever it is he wants from you and then he’ll toss you aside. Because that’s what he does.”
“Whereas you’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”
She saw that her words stung, and was glad.
He began to pace.
When he spoke again, he’d changed tack. “This is quite the studio, here.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s quite the ring.”
It was.
“There’s enough there, on your finger, to rebuild your former home.”
“Blue,” Ani said, “isn’t your color.”
Archer stopped. “That’s it? You think I’m jealous?”
“I only can’t decide whether of me, or of Dane.”
“Dane.” Archer snorted.
“I saw how you toadied up to him, that night.” The memory still made her sick to her stomach. “He’s brainwashed you far more than he’s ever brainwashed me.”
“Alright. Fine. Maybe he’s brainwashed us both. But Ani….”
Ani knew perfectly well what Archer was suggesting: that she was marrying Dane for his money. But Archer was the one who cared about money. And power, and privilege, and all the other things that went along with it. Not Ani. Ani, at that point, would’ve married Dane if all he’d had to offer her was a shack. And she didn’t care if Archer—if anybody—understood why.
He started pacing again, and then he stopped. “Do you love him?”
“That,” Ani said evenly, “is between him and me.”
“So that’s a no.”
Ani returned to her stool, the one she’d been sitting on when Archer had first arrived. She was suddenly very, very tired. She watched him watching her, and wondered how things had ever gotten this bad. That other lifetime, when they’d been so close, that hadn’t been so long ago. He’d made her laugh, and laugh, until she’d thought her sides would split. And now….
“I was a coward.”
Was, and was still.
“And I regret that.”
“It’s too late, Archer.”
“You can’t marry him, because you’re scared.”
“And I won’t marry you.”
His eyes widened, then, confirming another suspicion.
“Or did you come here, hell bent on saving me from myself, with no plan for me other than to see me out to the street? Archer, you’re only playing the part now because you can afford to. Back when I was available, back when there was actually some hope of a favorable response, you held off. If you’d really wanted me, as a friend or anything else, you would’ve given some indication.”
“I didn’t….”
“Go home, Archer.”
“So you can continue on here, in this little fantasy world you’ve created.”
It might be a fantasy, but it was better than reality.
“With a man who leaves your heart cold.”
We’re friends, she wanted to say, which is more than I can say about me and you.
“Ani. I’ve had the misfortune to be…blunt, about your uncle. And you’re suspicious of me, now, because of that. I knew…before you said anything. Just the look on your face, first, at the funeral, and then this afternoon. When I first arrived. I said—what I said was unforgivable. Because I’m just a man, and no man is perfect.
“But Dane…Dane is perfect, isn’t he? He, this man who’s terrified you so for years and years, he hasn’t put a single foot wrong. He showed up to rescue you at exactly the right moment and since then…since then he’s showered you with gifts. He hasn’t said a cross word to you, I bet, either. Although, knowing you, Ani, you’ve said more than a cross word to him.”
“So?”
Archer exploded. “How do you know that he isn’t responsible?”
“What?”
“For your uncle—for everything! How do you know that your precious fiancé, who you might or might not even be able to stand, didn’t orchestrate the whole thing? Before—before he showed up, doing his own impression of a knight in shining armor, you’d never have so much as let him send you roses. And don’t deny that that’s true, Ani. I know you too well.”
Ani swallowed, and waited.
“Whatever else might be said about Dane, he’s purpose driven. We’ve both always agreed on that.” Archer shook his head. “An ambitious, purpose driven man getting exactly what he wants. After years of waiting, after years of hoping, after years of failure. Things suddenly just, on the one night, where everything is legal…fall into place. Imagine that. What a coincidence.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Same Advantages
Dane poured himself a drink, and then came over to the fireplace to join her.
“You missed an exciting afternoon,” she said.
He sipped the finger of scotch. “Oh?”
“Archer paid me a visit.”
Dane smiled slightly. “Ah. That explains Jefferson’s less than pleasant demeanor.”
“I’m surprised that he isn’t still prostrate in some darkened room.”
Dane arched an eyebrow. “That bad?”
“He tried to convince me—”
“To marry him instead?”
“That you’d killed William.”
Dane’s expression changed abruptly. “You don’t believe that?”
Ani shook her head. “Not for a minute.” She studied her fiancé in the low light. He was contained, as always, but he radiated tension. Like a coil, about to spring forth from its casing. “You,” she explained, “never would’ve bothered hiding what you’d done. You would’ve told me, and told me your reasons, and expected me to understand. And if I hadn’t….” She shrugged.
He seemed to relax, but only fractionally. “I’m not certain that I care for this assessment of my character but…yes.”
“Archer accused me of marrying you for your money, too.”
“I should spend more of it on you, then.”
Ani smiled. “I don’t need things. I don’t want them.”
“And that,” Dane said, finishing his scotch, “is part of your charm.”
“That I’m cheap?” Ani couldn’t help but tease him.
“That you’re impossible to impress by conventional means. Most women are willing to overlook a great deal, if diamonds are involved. You, meanwhile, see all the same faults in me that you’d see if I were a longshoreman.”
“I’d see fewer faults in you, then. Or,” she added, still smiling, “at least be more inclined to forgive them. As you wouldn’t have grown up with the same advantages.”
“So you’d infantilize me, then.”
“Infantilize?”
“All men are capable of greatness.”
“Just as all men are capable of mediocrity.”
“Holding everyone to the same standard means judging some, perhaps, more harshly.”
“So the very social welfare programs designed to ameliorate the sufferings of the lower classes are what create them?” Ani made no secret of her skepticism at this idea. Representing, as it did, the very sort of rhetoric that her fiancé had no doubt absorbed like a sponge in early childhood.
“Thank you,” he said, “for demonstrating another part of your charm so ably.”
“My willingness to tell you that your politics are rubbish?”
“That, but I meant your having opinions at all. I knew that I could never marry a woman who was stupid or, worse, who wasn’t stupid but who’d allowed her mother and whoever else to convince her that she had to act like she was in order to secure social advantage.”
“So what you mean is that I’m an artless cow.”
“Cows are underappreciated creatures.”
“I’m glad….” Ani considered her next words carefully. “I’m glad you’re not upset. About Archer.”
Dane placed his now empty glass on the mantel and turned to stare down at the fire.
“I am,” he said finally. “But not at you.”
“I should’ve…there’s an argument to be made that I should’ve asked him to leave.”
“I’m interested in being your husband, not your nursemaid. If you felt that it was important for you to see him, and to speak with him, then I’m not going to question your judgment. He was your friend, Antoinette. And, although to an admittedly lesser extent, mine.”
“Yes.” The word came out as little more than a whisper.
Dane turned. “Did he propose?”
“No.”
“What a coward.”
This time, Ani’s laugh wasn’t an exclamation of humor but one of surprise. “You’d have wanted him to?”
“No, of course not.” Dane couldn’t keep the irritation from his tone. “I wanted him—then, and now—to be worthy of the friendship you lavished on him. Without ever, apparently, seeking a single think in return. It’s just as well, though; if he had, I believe I’d have to kill him.”
Ani frowned. “What would I ask for, or expect, in return for being someone’s friend?”
“Oh, darling.” Dane resumed staring at the fire. A minute or two passed before he spoke again. “I do wonder if Archer isn’t somehow involved in…something with Grace. But the problem, at least as I see it, is that Grace had no motive. She had nothing to gain. Your uncle left no estate. And there was, ultimately, no insurance. He’d begun cashing out his policies years ago.”
“Did my aunt know that?”
“I can’t imagine how she didn’t.”
“Not every marriage is based on communication.”
“This, I suppose, is true. But she can’t have been under the impression, even so, that your uncle had amassed a fortune.”
“No.” Quite the opposite. They’d fought about money all the time.
“Meaning that William was worth more to her alive than dead.”
“But I don’t…I don’t understand.”
“Because there’s some missing piece of this puzzle that we’re not finding.”
“I don’t even know where to begin searching.”
“And everyone,” Dane said darkly, “has something to gain by pointing fingers.”
“What,” came a querulous voice, “is all this whispering?”
Ani turned and there, standing in the door, was Grace. She was once again robed in her usual peach. The fabric, which appeared to be some sort of satin, was the same unappetizing shade as a wax doll. It made her look dead.
“I didn’t…hear you come in.”
“I banged at that door for half an hour. Before that troglodyte you call a butler got around to letting me in. And now just look at me! I’m shaking like a leaf.”
“A large leaf.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed at Dane. “A what?”
“A palm frond. Those are quite majestic. Or perhaps a banana leaf.”
“I’m about to catch my death of cold and—”
“Leaves don’t feel cold.” Dane’s tone was mild.
“Where’s Daniel?”
“Out.”
Grace crossed her arms, and transferred her glare to Ani. “Well?”
“Daniel is with a friend.”
Her brother had, in point of fact, spent the afternoon at the natural history museum. He’d gone with Thatcher’s parents, who seemed to have appointed themselves as honorary grandparents. The plan was for him to have dinner with them, afterward, and then spend the night. Ani, as much as she hated letting Daniel out of her sight, had to admit that forming new relationships with new people had done him good. He had the right to a life of his own; he couldn’t be a prisoner to Ani’s fear.
