Neferet's Curse (House of Night Novellas #3)(24)

With an utter lack of vanity or emotion I acknowledged that I was beautiful, even more beautiful than my mother, and she had often been called the most handsome woman in Second City. I also realized that, even though it was an abomination for his feelings to be such, it was my body, my beauty that my father so obviously coveted.

My mind and heart were still filled with Arthur Simpton, but they were also filled with a sense of desperation that frightened me. I needed Arthur to love me not only because he was handsome and kind and well positioned in the world. I needed Arthur to love me because he was my escape. Monday, I would visit his home. Staring into my looking glass I resolved to do anything to gain his vow and his troth.

If I am to save my life, I must make him mine.

* * *

Sunday evening, I’d expected Mary to bring me a dinner tray. Instead, Carson knocked on my door.

“Excuse me, Miss Wheiler. Your father requests that you join him for dinner.”

“Please tell Father that I am still unwell,” I’d said.

“Be pardon, Miss, but your father has had Cook make a healing stew. He said either you come to the dining room, or he will join you in your parlor here for dinner.”

I’d felt a horrible sickness and had to clasp my hands together to keep from showing how I was trembling. “Very well, then. Tell Father I will join him for dinner.”

With leaden feet I made my way to the dining room. Father was already seated at his place, with the Sunday paper open and a glass of red wine raised to his lips. He’d looked up as I entered the room.

“Ah, Emily! There you are. George!” he’d bellowed. “Pour Emily some of this excellent wine. That and Cook’s stew will have her right as rain in no time—right as rain.”

I sat without speaking. Father didn’t seem to notice my silence.

“Now, you know, of course, that the opening of the Columbian Exposition is exactly one week from tomorrow, on May the first. After the success of your dinner party last night, Mrs. Ayer as well as Mrs. Burnham have taken an especial interest in you. The ladies have invited you to be included in their opening ceremony festivities, which will culminate in dinner at the University Club.”

I gaped at him, not able to hide my surprise. The University Club was exclusive and opulent and not a place young, single girls were invited. Women were rarely allowed there at all, and those allowed were chaperoned by husbands.

“Well, have you nothing to say? Will you just gape like a codfish?”

I’d closed my mouth and lifted my chin. He wasn’t drunk yet, and sober Father was much less frightening. “I am flattered by the ladies’ attentions.”

“Of course you are. You should be. Now, you must consider carefully what you will wear. First we will be going to the Midway, and then to the club. You should choose one of your mother’s more elaborate gowns, but not one with such decadence that it would be out of place during the opening ceremonies.”

One small thought had my heart lightening, and I’d nodded somberly. “Yes, Father. I agree the gown is very important. When I call on Mrs. Simpton tomorrow, I must ask her to help me in the choosing, and perhaps even in the alterations of it. She is a lady of impeccable taste and I’m sure she will—”

He’d waved his hand, cutting me off. “I have already had Carson send word to your mother’s dressmaker to come to the house tomorrow. You have no time for such social frivolities as gallivanting about town. I have sent your excuses to the Simptons, and assured them it would not be necessary for that son of theirs to collect you. Instead, I will make a call on Mr. Simpton Monday evening for after-dinner brandy so that we may discuss business matters. That gout of his has kept him absent too long from board meetings. If Simpton will not go to the board, the president of the board will go to Simpton.”

“What?” I’d pressed my fingers against my forehead, trying to stop the pounding in my temples. “You canceled my visit to the Simpton house? Why ever would you do that?”

Father’s hard gaze met mine. “You have been ill all day, hiding away in your room. Too much excitement is obviously not good for your constitution, Emily. You will remain home this entire week so you will be fit for Monday next and the University Club.”

“Father, I was simply tired from the party. Tomorrow I will be quite well. I am feeling more like myself already.”

“Perhaps had you felt more like yourself earlier I would give credence to your words, but as it is, I have decided what is best for you—and that is saving yourself for Monday next. Have I made myself clear, Emily?”

I sent his hard gaze back at him, in my imagination filling it with the depth of my loathing. “Yes, you have made yourself clear.” My voice had been stone.

Father’s smile had been self-satisfied and cruel. “Good. Even your mother bowed to my will.”

“Yes, Father, I know she did.” I should have stopped there, but my anger allowed my words to be free. “But I am not my mother, nor would I ever desire to be.”

“You could do no better in life than to be the Lady your mother was.”

I’d let my voice mirror the coldness expanding within me. “Do you ever wonder, Father, what Mother would say if she could see us now?”

His eyes had narrowed. “Your mother is never far from my thoughts.”

George began to serve the stew then, and Father neatly changed the subject, launching into a monologue about the ridiculous expenditures of the Exposition—like bringing an entire tribe of African pigmies to the Midway—and I sat silently, planning, thinking, plotting, and above all hating him.