“There you are.”
We both jolted, the fantasy shattered, then spun.
Arthur du Lac stood on the terrace, staring at Story as if he’d won. Behind him were Lynette, my mother, West, and even Lottie. Dread wrapped around my gut.
“A bit cold for pictures on the terrace,” I said, measured.
“What’s going on, Arthur?” Lynette asked. “Why did you drag us away from the party?”
Arthur’s beady eyes hadn’t left Story, and I looked to her. Something had happened, it was clear by the anger in her stony gaze.
“A mistress overstepped her bounds this morning.” Arthur glanced to West. “I tried telling you she was poorly trained.”
West’s brow knitted. “What did you do, Angel?”
Before Story could speak, Arthur grinned—triumphant. “She assaulted me.” Arthur turned to Story. “Get on your knees, Mistress.”
STORY
“On your knees.”
For the first time in I don’t know how many years, I hesitated.
The number of times I’d had to fall to my knees ran through me like electric shocks. Years of living with the Crownes, drilling obedience into me until I forgot who I was, until I knew only to fall to my knees.
I glared at Arthur. He was attacking a maid—was I not supposed to intervene? There was a slight, darkening bump above his brow. I felt no remorse. I wished it was bigger.
Grayson took a step, and I saw his intent in his coiled fist, in veins throbbing along his wrist and neck.
“Neruda,” I whispered, and he froze.
He threw me a wild, deranged look over his shoulder. I pleaded with him with my eyes, with that single word, to stop. They would tear him away, they would throw him in his wing, and they would hurt him.
The veins in Arthur’s neck throbbed the longer I stood—everyone waited for me to obey. My eyes scanned the terrace, but it had nearly emptied. Just immediate family. I had an eerie feeling. It was like before with Grayson. I remembered being asked to empty rooms as a servant. I never thought anything of it.
Mr. Crowne needs the library cleared.
Mrs. Tansy needs the sunroom free of guests.
I watched servants clear the terrace, and had the feeling of floating out of my body, watching this as someone else.
Mr. du Lac needs the terrace cleared.
“Neruda,” I begged Grayson, and fell to my knees, jaw clenched.
This will be the last time.
My uncle always said the only way to survive was to keep my dignity, and for me, I thought that meant living unseen.
Maybe that was the problem.
Maybe by hiding I’d actually given more power to those around me. I’d shoved flashlights into their hands and let them shove me into the shadows.
I needed to find the girl who gave West gum wrappers.
The girl who once stared Tansy in the eyes.
As a mistress I couldn’t speak unless spoken to, my place was written as second, but somehow I’d needed to find the strength to be seen, to live with dignity, while being the most shameful and hidden I’d ever been.