C4 4

The banquet hall is gold and white and sparkling, and the guests are elegant in their suits and dresses, and servants carry silver trays of finger food and tea and wine and champagne. The guests talk softly to one another as they eat and drink.

Someone cries out in surprise, and all eyes and heads look up at the spiral staircase, and their faces are in awe.

I walk down the stairs as gracefully as a queen in my flowing burgundy gown and shining jewelry.

Percy is in his tuxedo and bow tie, Vincent is wearing his black suit, and Sterling wears a white suit. All their eyes are on me.

The last step catches my foot and I stumble a bit, almost tripping and falling, but Vincent catches me and makes it look like he was merely taking my arm in a friendly manner. I'm about to thank him when Sterling comes up to me and offers me his hand.

I take his hand and he pulls me to his arm. We look at each other tentatively. I had never noticed before that he has blue eyes. Deep blue, like the ocean. I wonder if he minds my eyes that are the color of mud. He doesn't look away, and for a moment I can feel his gaze penetrate my soul, down to my innermost core, and I can feel him there, prodding around, looking for something to grasp onto, as if he doesn't want to leave and he needs something in my mind to hold. His gaze is mesmerizing, and I don't want it to end, but there are other people here and I'm already feeling embarrassed from almost tripping in front of everyone.

Music begins to play and Sterling leads me into the open banquet hall, where the tables and chairs have been moved from the middle to allow for dancing. We begin to move, spinning and sweeping over the floor, and that's when I feel truly free to be myself. Soon the others join in, but I don't notice them. I don't think Sterling does either.

My foot accidentally lands on his and he laughs as I blush.

"I thought you majored in dance," he says.

"I did." I make a face at him. "Isn't it possible that you made a mistake?"

He smiles. "That dress suits you very well. It's beautiful."

"I was nervous about it. Vincent told me…"

"What?"

"Nothing really, he just mentioned something about the dress that made me wonder if I should be wearing it at all."

The music swells and the others dancing around us go into a spin, but Sterling doesn't spin me. He looks like he's frowning, but I'm starting to realize that this is just the face he makes when he's thinking about something, or remembering.

"Who's dress is this?" I ask him.

He sighs. "It's Laura's."

I feel my neck burn as I blush again, and suddenly I can feel everyone staring at me, or the dress, or both of us. The dress is now it's own person. The absence of Laura, who everyone here knows except me.

"Why would Paula want me to wear this dress?" I ask him.

"I doubt she did. That's not something she would do."

I wait a moment before asking, "I still don't know how you all know each other. Who is Vincent?"

"Paula's brother."

"And who is Paula?"

He smiles. I hate that smile right now. It's the one he uses when he knows something that I don't. "A friend of the family."

My eyes narrow at him as I piece things together. "You and she…"

He shakes his head. "When we were young, we had a fling. But I promise it isn't like that anymore."

"Did you love her?"

His I-know-more-than-you-do smile fades, and is replaced by his remembering smile. "I've only loved one woman."

"Laura."

He nods. I don't mind. I don't love him. This is all professional. I'm glad he was so honest about it, though. Finally something that wasn't a riddle or a lie. Suddenly I feel very close to him, emotionally.

We continue dancing but stop talking. We just enjoy the music, and I feel Sterling's hand in my hand and the other on my waist, and I wonder if my hand on his shoulder is beginning to sweat, but then something in my mind tells me to stop worrying and just enjoy the evening. And I do. I really enjoy this. I didn't think I would. All this high society has never been the right fit for me. It's probably a good thing that it didn't work out between Percy and me. When you're that rich and powerful, marriage is more medieval—it's a contract between families, and usually the two marrying parties have no say in who they marry, it's all up to the families that are agreeing to merge, like ancient houses agreeing on a pact to share their resources.

But Sterling is different. Dancing with him, I feel at peace, and I hate that I feel that way. I don't want to enjoy this. I want to get through whatever plan Sterling has for which I'm the key, and I want to get paid and be on my way. Maybe open up a small dance studio in the city, leave this high society life behind. But would it be so bad to spend my life with Sterling? I'm not sure yet.

The music ends and we stop dancing. I think maybe the crowd around us is staring at us, applauding maybe. But I don't see them or hear them. Sterling and I part, and we look into each other's eyes, and some sort of understanding passes between us. Neither one of us was meant for the world we were born into. At least that we have in common.

Sterling walks with me with my arm in his, and we go to the punch table where there are several drinks lined up with servants pouring glasses of wine and champagne and scotch and others that I can't immediately recognize. Drinking was never a big hobby of mine. Sterling hands me a glass with some orange liquid in it and I take a sip, expecting the burning sensation of alcohol. But when the drink passes my lips I smile.

"Orange juice?" I ask.

"You don't like orange juice?" Sterling asks.

"Sure, I was just expecting something more...grown up."

He laughs and takes a glass for himself. "I don't drink just for the sake of drinking. Not everything that is able to be enjoyed is expensive."

The rest of the guests have begun talking amongst themselves once more, and the music has continued playing but not many people are dancing. Behind me I can hear two women talking, and I feel like I've heard their voices before but I can't remember. Then I hear what they're talking about and I remember that they were at Percy's engagement party, and I heard them talking in the restroom.

"She's wearing Laura's old dress."

"I can't believe Sterling had her wear that. Seems like he can't let her go. I think the new girl is just a substitute or a replacement…"

I pick up a small fruit pie and nibble at it as I think, These women think highly of me. A substitute for Sterling's one true love is much more than what I really am. A tool.

Vincent approaches me and my attention goes to him, and I no longer hear the women gossiping behind me.

"Well, how do you like it so far?" he asks me. He's very handsome in his suit. His hair is dark and curly, and something within me wants to reach out and ruffle it.

"Honestly?" I look around the room at the dozens of guests. "It's suffocating."

Vincent bursts out laughing. "You're just like her, you know that?"

I smirk. "You mean Laura?"

Vincent nods. "Sorry. Do you not like hearing that? Because you should know that everyone here is only talking about one thing…"

"Who the hell was she, anyway? No one has been able to give me a straight answer."

Vincent raises his eyebrows and looks around, searching for the right words. "She'd be our hostess tonight, if she was alive."

I gape at him. I had no idea that Laura was dead. "I thought...I guess I just thought they broke up or something."

Vincent reaches out and touches my bare arm for a brief moment and says, "Listen, I know you're hurting for some answers, but I'm afraid you'll have to ask Sterling about her. It's really not my place to say anything more. I'll just tell you what you should've already put together yourself: Sterling and Laura were in love, they were meant to be married, but she died, and she's no longer with us."

I took another bit of the fruit pie. It's very good, filled with cream cheese and strawberries. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's your story? How do you all know each other?"

Vincent sighs out of his nose and shrugs. "We sort of all grew up together. Best friends when we were younger. Sterling and Paula had a thing when they were teenagers. They were actually meant to be married. That's what our parents wanted."

"But then he met Laura," I say

The sound of a knife against a glass sounds through the room, and all the guests turn to see Sterling calling for everyone's attention. He extends a hand toward me and I join him at the center of attention, much against my own desire.

"It's time I introduced my new bride," Sterling announces to the crowd. "This is Victoria, the new mistress of Bellegarde Manor."

The crowd applauds and I smile at them all, doing my best to play this part. I wonder how Sterling will explain to everyone why we separated mere days after this party will end.

Later a stranger approaches us and asks, "Where did you two meet?"

Sterling answers. "Pismo Beach, in California. It was one of those love-at-first-sight things."

The stranger smiles as if that's the sweetest thing in the world and doesn't happen to every young couple with more than a tablespoon of hormones between them. "And what do you love about Sterling now?" he asks me.

I tell myself that I should really start rehearsing this sort of thing. "His arrogance?"

The stranger and Sterling laugh, as well as several others around us who are listening in on the conversation. There's no such thing as privacy in high society.

The stranger holds up his flute of champagne and says, "To the new couple!"

Everyone around us shouts, "Here, here!" and drinks to the toast.

That night, after all the guests have left and all the alcohol has been drunk and the servants have put away all the tables and chairs and swept the floor, I climb up the stairs and collapse on my bed, exhausted.

"Why is being fancy so tiring?" I say into my pillow. I hug it tightly and kick off my shoes, then roll over to see a half-naked Sterling standing topless in the open closet. "What are you doing?" I gasp.

He looks down at himself with a look that belongs on the most confused of faces. "I'm...getting ready for bed?"

I look around the room and suddenly realize for the first time that there is only one bed. "Does everyone expect us to share a bed?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, we are married." He laughs a bit, but I'm not smiling.

"I'm not sharing a bed with you. That wasn't in the contract."

He smiles at me and says, "It's not the first time."

I blush. "This is different."

He shrugs. "It's the same to me."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes, I think so."

"What if I refuse?" I ask.

He says evenly, "Then everything we've done up to this point will have been for nothing. And you won't get paid." He adds that last bit with a sly smile.

I frown at him and say, "We can share a room, but I don't want you in my bed. You have to promise that you won't...try anything."

"What would I try?" He comes closer, and I dive beneath the bed covers. I hear him laugh. "Are you going to sleep in your dress?"

"It's Laura's dress," I say under the blanket.

He pulls the blanket off of me and looks at me with those deep blue ocean eyes. "Laura isn't here anymore," he says with a low voice.

I sit up straight. "I'm sorry. Let's not talk about her, then." I turn and pull my hair over the front of my shoulder. "Will you help me with the zipper?"

He sits on the bed beside me and his hand rests on my bare shoulder as the other takes the zipper. It goes down slowly, and the dress falls away from my body. I feel his lips on my neck and I let out a sigh.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

Sterling doesn't answer. He helps me the rest of the way out of the dress.

Later, we both lie awake in bed. It's late, probably hours past midnight. The moon is almost full and is shining through the bedroom window, and the light is softened through the bed curtains and falls on Sterling's face and bare chest, still sweaty from what we had just done. His eyes are closed, but I can tell by his breathing that he isn't asleep.

I whisper, "Do you still love her?"

A few long moments pass until I think he may not answer, but then he whispers back, "Always."

More time passes. I stare at him as the night becomes early morning and the moonlight passes over his body. I'm sure he's asleep, but then he takes my hand and holds it. He doesn't move it, doesn't squeeze it. He just holds it, and it's only then that he finally falls asleep.

And then, to my surprise, so do I.

The next morning I wake when the sunlight shines through the window. I blink lazily and turn over to see Sterling. He isn't there.

I get out of bed and wrap a morning gown around myself and step into some fuzzy slippers, then enter the bathroom.

Sterling is there, naked, and I cover my eyes and spin around.

"I guess you don't knock where you come from?" he asks.

"The door was wide open!"

The bedroom door swings open and two servants enter, one of them Lydia. I freeze, not sure if I should let them know if I'm there or not. They bring in a tray with tea and a tray with toast and preserves.

"They're not here," the older maid whispers. "Did you hear them last night? She was screaming!" The woman giggles as she sets the tea tray down on a table.

I see Lydia blush. "You shouldn't talk about it."

"Are you going to leave?" Sterling asks behind me.

"Are you going to put on some pants?" I hiss.

"My bathrobe is next to you on that hook."

I have to turn a bit to see the bathrobe, and I see Sterling out of the corner of my eye. I grab the robe from the hook and toss it behind me.

"So you're staying, then?" he asks.

"There are maids out there. I don't want them to see me—to see us like this."

Sterling chuckles. "We're married. It's something they'd expect to see sooner or later."

I decide to turn on the sink faucet to wash my face, hoping that the noise will alert the maids that we're here so that they will leave. I splash some water on my face and look around for a towel. Instead I see Sterling's bare backside.

"Why aren't you wearing the robe?"

"I was about to get in the shower when you came in."

I sigh in exasperation and shake the water from my wet hands onto the floor. "Where are the towels?"

"In the cupboard behind you," Sterling says. He turns the shower on and steps in.

I turn around to the cupboard but slip on the small puddle I had just made. I stumble and fall backwards into the shower with a scream. Sterling catches me and I catch sight of his full image.

"Are you alright in there?" comes the voice of Lydia. The door opens and the young maid stares at us, wet and naked.

The door slams shut, and Sterling and I laugh until our mouths become otherwise occupied.