Bright Young Things (15 page)

“Yes,” Letty replied distractedly. She hadn‧t known how hungry she was until she‧d taken her first bite, and tasted how rich the butter was on her tongue, and heard her belly growl for more.

“Well, he‧s Amory Glenn.” Letty didn‧t respond immediately, and then Paulette went on. “Of the theatrical Glenns. His family owns some of the biggest houses on Broadway!”

“Really?” Letty pictured him sitting there at that prominent table, with his crisp white collar and neat bow tie, with the slick hair and dark eyes, and she realized that he
had
had a moneyed, important way about him, and what he had said to her—“I ought to know”—didn‧t seem so haughty after all. She thought then of Cordelia and the handsome man with her, and marveled at how, in the span of so few days, both girls could catch the attention of such important-seeming fellows. They really had been too big for Ohio, she supposed, and perhaps they
both
had what Mother used to call “magic.”

Letty let out a long, contented breath. There was a touch of moisture in the air, and it was refreshing on the tip of her nose. She looked at Paulette, with her long legs and her head full of information about the secret workings of the world—what a lucky stroke it had been to find a new best friend like that!

A few stars were still visible in the brightening sky, and Letty sensed that at least one of them was for her. She was charmed—she just knew it, and she felt the tingle of the many possibilities laying in wait for her tomorrow and all the days after that.

15

“THERE‧S NO NEED FOR—” CORDELIA BEGAN, AS HER kidnappers pushed her into the library of Dogwood, but she fell silent when she saw the ashen face of her father waiting for her. The lie she‧d told earlier had been exposed, she realized, and any calmness she‧d derived from her cool anger with Charlie, in the car en route to White Cove, left her now. Her heart was beating awfully fast, but she pulled her shoulders back and smoothed her skirt over her legs and blinked.

Charlie had been furiously silent all the way home, but her father, when he saw his children coming through the door, appeared only tired and concerned.

“I hope they weren‧t rough with you, my dear. Men like that don‧t have much experience with nice girls.” Darius spoke softly, tentatively, as though he were afraid of causing her more harm.

“They weren‧t that rough” was all Cordelia could manage in reply.

“Why shouldn‧t they have been rough?” Charlie broke in angrily. “It‧s like I told you the first night she came here, Dad: She‧s nobody. She came out of nowhere. Who knows what she‧s up to, or who she‧s working for, especially now that we‧ve seen her out with Thom Hale—”

“Charlie, shut up.” Darius closed his eyes, pinching his forehead as though he had a headache. “You were supposed to keep an eye on her. You were supposed to be always at her side. How could she know to stay away from Thom Hale if you didn‧t tell her?”

Charlie said nothing, but his eyes burned with invective.

After a moment Darius stood up and crossed to the doorway, where he put an arm around Cordelia‧s shoulder and escorted her back to the circle of stuffed leather chairs where he had been waiting. For a moment they sat there in silence, an awkward family of three. “I can understand how you might think I don‧t care what you do, since I went off so soon after your arrival. Because of all the years I let go by, without trying to get you back … But believe me, I do care. I want you to enjoy yourself, but also to be safe. And I‧m afraid neither of those things are possible with—that young man.”

“But Thom‧s nice,” Cordelia whispered, remembering how easy she‧d felt in his company. But the grave mood in the room made it difficult to hang on to that lightness.

Charlie snorted.

“I‧m afraid not.” Darius let go of her hand and leaned back against his chair. He rested his mouth against his hand contemplatively, and let his eyes drift out the window for a moment. The mysterious noises of the country at night—crickets and rustling leaves—filtered inside. Eventually, Darius sighed heavily. “Thom is Duluth Hale‧s son. You remember this morning when I told you about Duluth Hale?”

“They want a chunk of everything we got,” Charlie interrupted. “Furthermore, they‧d kill us if they thought they‧d get away with it.”

“Charlie!” Darius turned, slapping his son‧s shoulder. Both men were large, but in that moment, Cordelia glimpsed the formidable force of which the elder Grey was capable. “Say another word and I swear you won‧t leave this house the whole summer.” He leaned his elbows against his knees and pushed himself toward Cordelia. “He‧s no good, all right? That‧s all you need to know. Stay away from him. Can you promise me that?”

A cold front was advancing within her.

“Yes,” Cordelia answered, but she could not bring herself to look as though she meant it. The way the city had rushed by the windows of Thom‧s car—bright and fast and full of music—was becoming less tangible to her with every passing second. It seemed excruciating that the kiss they‧d shared in his car was going to be their only kiss. Thom‧s touch, and the giddy, perfect way it made her feel, was fading, and she couldn‧t help but be stricken by that. She was crushed, and she knew that it was visible all over her face.

“Both of you will be staying here at Dogwood for a while.” Darius stood again, more heavily this time, and walked toward the entryway on tired legs. “I am telling the boys. You are both punished. Good night, children.”

When he was gone, Charlie faced Cordelia. There was even more fire in his eyes now. “Look what you‧ve done,” he said. “You fool.”

But the hatefulness of his tone was no match for the memory of the brilliant sensation Thom Hale had created within her when he‧d turned that sideways grin in her direction, and it was with all the joyous confidence that the hours in his company had imbued her with that she stood, nose in the air, and declared, “You‧re a beast, and you don‧t have even a third as much class as Thom Hale.”

If she glanced back, she feared there might be tears. So she kept her eyes focused forward as she climbed the stairs and walked across the third-floor hallway to the Calla Lily Suite.

“Cordelia!” Astrid wailed when Cordelia came into the bedroom.

For some hours, Astrid had been making use of the Calla Lily Suite. She had showered and redone her hair and gone through Cordelia‧s closet, examining the new frocks hanging there and imagining all the trading of clothes they would do over the summer. Then Milly, the maid Darius had hired for his daughter, had come with milk and cookies and also to turn down the bed, and for a while Astrid had engaged her in gossip about the strange inhabitants of Dogwood. But since Milly was new, she had little to add, and eventually Astrid grew bored and dismissed her. She was becoming truly, profoundly bored when she heard the sound at the door. The fact that Cordelia had claimed to be feeling too bad to go out earlier, and was now wearing a very expensive dress, was lost in the relief of having her friend back.

“What‧s the matter?” Cordelia said as she kicked off her heels.

The two girls moved to sit side by side on the bed.

“Oh,
look.”
Astrid opened her fist and showed her friend the earring.

“What is it?” Cordelia leaned forward to better examine the offensive object.

“I don‧t know!” Astrid groaned and set her head against Cordelia‧s shoulder. “All I know is, it‧s not mine, but it
was
in Charlie‧s things … I suppose I was half hoping it was yours?”

“No …” Cordelia‧s brown eyes flickered from Astrid‧s hand to her face. “It‧s not mine.”

“I mean, how did it get there, and under what circumstances?” Astrid went on, although the questioning tone was disingenuous, because already the picture in her mind of the woman whose ear it had dangled from had become a lurid scene that involved Charlie and another girl, or possibly two. The image made her feel foolish and powerless, and before she could help it, the corners of her eyes had become damp.

Astrid slumped and sunk her hands into her lap. She felt diminished; she didn‧t know how she would confront Charlie, or even to put into words what she feared he‧d done.

“I know you love Charlie,” Cordelia began cautiously, “but he can be such a bully—”

Before Astrid could respond that that wasn‧t the way she saw him at all, she was distracted by a noise down the hall on the stairway and raised her finger to silence Cordelia. As soon as Charlie saw she was gone from his room, he would be coming this way. She felt on the brink of some crisis, and the only thing she was sure of was that she didn‧t want to see him yet. She brought her finger to her lips, telling Cordelia to hush. “I‧m not here,” she mouthed, and then she tiptoed to the bathroom, soundlessly closing the door and putting her cheek against it to listen.

From the bathroom, with its expanses of gray-streaked marble and shining gold fixtures, she heard Charlie barge into Cordelia‧s suite. This was the way everyone redid their bathrooms nowadays, though she supposed Cordelia had never encountered anything like it in Ohio.

“Have you seen Astrid?”

The sound of Charlie‧s voice jarred her, even with the wall separating them. His tone was tense and breathless, and he didn‧t sound pleased to be asking the question.

“No,” Cordelia, on the other side of the door, replied in that laconic way of hers. “Have you?”

“Yes, but now she‧s gone.” The floorboards groaned beneath Charlie‧s feet as he walked across the floor. “She was in my room, but she isn‧t anymore—she‧s not here?”

“No.” Another pause. “What a shame, I would have liked her company tonight.”

There was no reply, and after another moment, Astrid knew he was gone. She could just picture Charlie leaping up the steps, searching for her with that brash, important way he had. When the door slammed, she hurried back to Cordelia, who was still sitting in the same position, her hair hanging down around her shoulders.

“He‧s looking for you, you know,” Cordelia said slowly.

“I know.” Astrid bit her lip. “Only, let me stay here a little while? Can I sleep here with you?”

“Of course you can … but why not just confront him tonight?”

“It will do him good to think I‧ve gone off … and I can‧t decide what to do until tomorrow.” Astrid sighed and threw herself back against the bedspread. What she couldn‧t bring herself to say was that if Charlie had betrayed her, she didn‧t want to know. “Anyway, I always sleep in this bed when I‧m here too late to drive back home. I did before you came, that is. Which I‧m
awfully
glad you did!”

“You sleep—here?”

Astrid let out a loud, flat laugh. “Where did you think I‧d sleep? Not with Charlie.”

But she could tell from Cordelia‧s face that this was exactly what she had thought. Cordelia‧s lips parted, and she went on watching Astrid, as though for a sign that she was telling a joke. “Oh,” she said quietly, and nodded.

Astrid slapped the bed and laughed again at the notion. Cordelia took to everything so quickly, it had momentarily slipped Astrid‧s mind how far away Ohio was. It was different there, she supposed, now that she thought about it. Perhaps boys and girls on farms acted like married people long before they actually were. “Of course not! Oh, he‧d
like
me to, but there are some things a girl doesn‧t do before, well—anyway, I wouldn‧t want to end up like my mother.”

Astrid groaned, remembering the party she had left behind and all the horrid antics. “Anyway, it‧s all so dull. Let‧s talk about you, can‧t we?”

She scooted up the bed and pulled the cover over her evening gown. A breeze picked up, pushing against the white curtains and moving them about in a ghostly manner. Cordelia ran her long fingers over the bedspread and seemed to be silently considering her words. The corners of her mouth twitched for a moment, as though she were trying to keep a smile at bay, but she could not stop it from coming into full bloom.

Cordelia tossed a heap of sun-streaked hair over her shoulder, and stars shone in her eyes. But that hair
was
a bit country—Astrid saw that now. They were going to have to fix it. The rest of Cordelia was so elegant, after all; it was a shame to let this one detail remain off-key.

“I met a boy,” Cordelia finally whispered.

“Aha!” Astrid exclaimed. “I
knew
something very thrilling had happened. Why else would you have suddenly become so elusive? Tell me! Tell me
now.
Tell me everything.”

“Well, his name‧s Thom, and—”

Astrid gasped. Her mouth fell open, and her tone became serious. “Thom Hale? Oh, when I saw you speaking at the club … Well, you can‧t fall in love with Thom Hale,” she said quickly, giving a stuttered shaking of the head.

But Cordelia did not match her seriousness yet. She laughed and lightly replied, “Not you, too?”

“The Hales and the Greys—how can I explain?”

“Oh, I know. I know everything. Charlie and Father told me I‧m
not
to see him, and they‧ve locked me away in the castle just to make sure.” She bit her lip, glancing from Astrid to her hands, as though she were frightened by what she‧d done, or maybe frightened by what she felt. Cordelia lay her head on the pillow so that she was just next to her friend, and she lowered her voice as though she were about to tell a very dark secret. “Only, I‧ve never felt that way before. The way I felt when I was with him. I‧d never known life could be so grand …”

Astrid‧s eyes had become very large. “Oh, but you mustn‧t. Charlie and Darius take family very seriously …”

There was a long silence after this, and for a moment it seemed that Cordelia had regretted her confession. But then a little mischief began to play at the corners of her mouth. “But do you know how handsome he is?”

Now Astrid could not help but smile, too. “Yes—he is handsome, I suppose.”

“So you know him?”

“Of course, everyone knows Thom!”

Cordelia let out a dreamy sigh and buried her face in the pillow. She was in trouble, and yet she seemed almost happy. Watching her friend, Astrid wondered if the rivalry between the Hales and the Greys really mattered so much after all. Sometimes people questioned Charlie and Astrid‧s affections—and perhaps they were right—but in Astrid‧s heart, she knew she couldn‧t help loving Charlie, despite his flaws. Even now, when her head was cluttered with anger, she loved him. Who was she to doubt anyone else‧s love affair?

They began to drift off, briefly, but were awakened by the sound of shouting down below. Creeping toward the window, they giggled a little as they realized that it was Charlie and Elias calling Astrid‧s name into the night.

“Maybe we should tell them?” Cordelia whispered as they peered outside.

“No! That can wait until morning, just like everything else.” Astrid took her friend‧s hand and they padded back across the floor and tucked themselves under the covers.

“Anyway, none of it can be all that bad.” Cordelia gave Astrid a reassuring wink. “How could it be, when we get to fall asleep in a room as soft and bright as this one?”

This was a new concept for Astrid—but once she closed her eyes and considered Cordelia‧s logic, it seemed irrefutable.

Even as the night sky became tinged with the pink of sunrise, it was likely that down in the back corners of White Cove, and in its finer social rooms, gaudy laughter was still ringing to the ceilings, or else vast sorrow was being drowned. But in the Calla Lily Suite on the third floor of Dogwood, layers of expensive bedding held Astrid, and the rhythm of Cordelia‧s breathing on the next pillow gave her the sense that, at last, she had a true friend.