The Deception Dance

by Rita Stradling

  “I thought Nicholas was on some sort of assignment?”

  She furrows her brow and shakes her head. “No, he was with us the whole trip. Stephen left though, about the time you called, and Albert took off, first thing, when we got to Copenhagen.”

  “Well,” I grumble, “you shouldn’t have let Nicholas buy this, anyway.” Staying mad is difficult, as I caress the crystal-embroidered hem. I sit down next to Linnie, “Hey, will you promise me something?”

  “Depends on what it is,” her usual answer.

  “Promise me we’ll leave this Sunday, after the party, no matter what.”

  She sighs. “You want to leave that badly? Don’t you like it here?”

  I bite my lip, “Please.”

  “Okay, Raven.” She gives me a half smile and a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll ask Chauncey.” She immediately hollers, “Chauncey!” making me jump.

  This must be one of the first days, in the week and a half we’ve been here, that Chauncey hasn’t left before I rose. She leans her upper body through the door; her curls hang down like ribbons of spun gold. I’ve never seen a face so perfect, as if her beauty casts the room around her in shadow.

  I must be holding my breath, because when she speaks I’m lightheaded. “Yeah,” she drawls breaking my admiration. I keep forgetting her exquisiteness runs as deep as her skin.

  “Raven, here ...” Linnie slings an arm around my back. “Wants to leave the morning after the party.” She pouts. “What do you think?”

  Chauncey flips golden curls over her shoulder. “We should do whatever Raven wants.” Her tone churns my stomach.

  Linnie narrows her eyes at Chauncey, then spins my way, instead. “Alright, Birdie, we’ll leave in five days. Now, I’m going to the bathroom.” She walks out of the room, past Chauncey, and disappears into the hall.

  The mattress slumps down beside me. Surprising: I assumed Chauncey would follow Linnie out.

  I concentrate on my unpainted toes. Maybe, if I pretend she’s not there, she’ll evaporate.

  “You’re so lucky,” Chauncey whispers.

  Faking a smile, I turn her way. “Because I’m so gorgeous and wealthy?” I forcefully break from her gaze.

  Chauncey’s pupils are unfathomable depths of despair; if I look again, I might stumble in and plummet downward forever. Cringing, I curl up my knees.

  She starts sobbing, quietly.

  My usual reaction is embracing any crying person; with Chauncey, I know better. I know what you get when you help an injured cobra: two holes in your hand and poison coursing through your veins. No, thank you. Please leave Chauncey, please go.

  She does; the bed shifts and her feet patter their retreat.

  I glance after her, when there’s no chance of being ensnared by her misery. I’m stuck with Chauncey; but in five days, I’ll be out of this castle, back on track for our sightseeing, and I’ll never see Andras again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Day Twenty-One

  I spin, keeping my gaze on the mirror, for as long as I can. Maybe, if I’m really careful, I’ll get away with wearing this once and Nicholas can still return the dress to the store. I grin at my reflection and run my hand down the embroidered crystals, from the strapless top to where the purple satin flares below my hips. I twirl again, this time a little faster, the satin fans out, crystals sparkling above the hem.

  The top is tight, but having no sleeves, it needs to be, and the snug fit over my hips doesn’t bother me, either. This dress makes me look more like an hourglass than a string bean.

  Linnie comes up behind me, in the lavender gown that Chauncey lent her, and scrunches up one of my ringlets. “These turned out perfect.” She smiles into the mirror over my shoulder. "Are you sure you don’t want to use any of my make-up?”

  “Positive.” I beam back at her reflected face.

  “I’m sad we’re leaving; I could get use to this.” She swishes her gown back and forth.

  I’m not sad and couldn’t ever get ‘used to’ the grandeur. I don’t say anything.

  Glancing down at my wrist, I realize I’m not wearing my watch. “What time is it?”

  “Time to go.” Linnie hooks her arm in mine. “Chauncey’s already waiting with Tobias, outside.” She raises her eyebrows. “Poor Chauncey.” Linnie’s expression looks half sympathetic, half amused.

  I want to say, ‘Poor Tobias,’ but I don’t.

  We walk through the guesthouse, arm-in-arm. I feel like a different person, being dressed this well. Linnie and I drop our chummy posture and walk, single file, out of the front door. A fleeing sun still lights the sky and a breeze passes by with the faintest taste of night.

  Tobias sits in the driver’s seat of the Rolls Royce, peering in the opposite direction from Chauncey, who’s in the back seat; when Linnie crosses to the car, she takes the seat beside Chauncey.

  Stephen and Nicholas stand by the front of the car. Nicholas looks more comfortable in a tuxedo than anyone I’ve ever seen, as if he were born in formal wear. His tie matches my dress.

  Stephen flicks his cigarette onto the driveway, and then climbs into the passenger seat. Before he closes the door he calls, “see you there.”

  Tobias glances over at us, and then drives out of the driveway.

  I examine the road with no cars. “Where’s my pumpkin carriage?”

  The gray Lamborghini I admired in the garage drives up and stops beside us. The beefy chauffeur steps out and Nicholas waves him off with a smile.

  Nicholas gestures. “Here you are, Askungen ...” He shakes his head and says, “I mean, Cinderella.”

  I stretch to touch the hood, lose my nerve and withdraw my hand. “Are you trying to impress me?” I tease.

  He lifts up the passenger door, vertically. “Is it working?”

  I scrunch up my nose and nod.

  “Finally,” he says, smiling. Standing there, Nicholas looks like a picture in a magazine; ‘this is elegance’ would be printed in bold letters at the bottom. Right now, outwardly, I’d fit in pretty well with his ad. For Nicholas, this is reality; I’m just playing ‘dress-up’.

  His lips brush my cheek as I slide onto the seat. I’m careful not to let my crystals scrape the leather and don’t put too much weight on my seat, which is, of course, cream-colored. The gown takes up my entire side of the car.

  In the driver’s seat, Nicholas gives me a gleeful grin, as the doors rotate into their tracks and we take off down the driveway. Nicholas keeps a comfortable silence; we sit for thirty minutes without needing to talk. The Swedish countryside changes colors with the waning daylight.

  “This feels right,” Nicholas says, glancing over.

  I huff out a laughing breath. “I was just thinking how this feels like a dream.”

  Nicholas turns into an unpaved driveway with an open gate and two small brick pillars. After driving up a short road, we wait behind a line of luxurious cars, next to a night-blackened hedge.

  As the line of cars inches forward, I ask, "So, how come Albert's not coming?" Not that I'm complaining... "Or, is he?" I glance back.

  "He's not," Nicholas replies. "Albert avoids certain people. He doesn't want to see two people in particular, actually." When a long silence follows his vague explanation, Nicholas continues: "He's avoiding the host's sister-in-law, Bridget Ruuth, and her daughter, Madeline."

  "Why?"

  "Madeline and her mother are...” he pauses to glance over, "…they're... well, my grandfather would say, 'they have strayed far from the path.'" Nicholas imitates a soft, shaky, lightly-accented voice.

  It seems Nicholas's grandfather is ready to pass judgment on us all. I just make a 'hmm,' sound in response, as it is finally our turn to drive up to a castle. There’s no doubt in my mind, this property is also considered a ‘castle’. Several small lamps light the brick facade from below; the leaves of the ivy-drenched second story flutter with shadows in the breeze.

  The car doors swing up and a man helps me out of my seat. Another
man takes Nicholas’s seat and drives off with the Lamborghini.

  Five baroque gables top the castle's façade, standing out from the unlit sloping roof, reminding me of a giant five-armed candelabra. We walk through a two-story archway into a courtyard, where a group of men chuckle and smoke cigars, by a small central fountain.

  I bite my lip. Walking in here, I feel less like Cinderella and more like a big phony; I hope no one asks me about my pedigree… or anything like that. I inhale, smelling cigars and perfume and a light, earthy scent. The smile I flash at Nicholas probably looks more nervous than excited, as we climb the stairs and step into the splendor.

  In a spacious room, beyond the foyer, chandeliers hang above wine drinking, chatting, laughing, dancing women, glistening with jewels, and men, chic with sharply tailored lines. Their merriment does not drown out the string quartet’s playing…

  I turn to Nicholas. “Isn’t this a Led Zeppelin song?” I smile and nod. “It is, ‘Kashmir;’ I like it.”

  We make a beeline for the space cleared for dancing and Nicholas takes me in his arms. Following Nicholas’s steps is easy, if I don’t look down. Soon, we’re spinning across the floor. Nicholas whispers stories about people we pass until my cheeks hurt from laughing; he nods in greeting to many of them, obviously knowing most of the party. We don’t stop between songs, as neither of us tires. I wish I had some way to lift up the hem of my dress; I keep stepping on the back.

  The air is full of a bizarre fusion of expensive perfumes and colognes. We waltz into the realm of a scent I’m familiar with and I know whose hands cover my eyes. I halt and touch her hand. “Linnie!” I answer to her unspoken ‘guess who?’ and twirl to face her.

  Linnie holds up her glass to prevent wine from spilling. She tilts her head to the entrance, where I see Stephen heading. “You guys want to get some fresh air?”

  Nicholas touches the small of my back, “Definitely.”

  I’m grateful for the break; I’ve never danced with this much material hanging around me and I’m afraid I’ll end up exposing my inelegance by falling on my face.

  We follow Linnie to the door Stephen exited and into the well-lit courtyard. We find Stephen, leaning against one of the only vine-free areas of the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He might be dressed in the same formalwear as the crowd around him, but his scar and smirk mark him as an outsider, just like me.

  More people populate the courtyard than when we first crossed through. Several men and women smoke or chat, and one woman heckles a tray-laden waiter.

  I stare. That woman is criticizing him about something, and he looks embarrassed. She’s shorter and a few years older than Linnie, with blazing red hair, contrasting with her earthy green gown. She abruptly turns her head, so I snap my gaze to Nicholas, who laughs at something Stephen must have said.

  I step toward Nicholas and reach to his shoulder, “Nicholas ...” I snicker. “You have a spider on your shoulder.”

  “Don’t kill it!” A woman’s voice calls out with a strong Irish accent. The redhead rushes up and slaps the top of my hand.

  I draw back and rub my stinging hand protectively. “I wasn’t going to.”

  She scoops up and delivers the spider to the vine, where it must have wandered off.

  “Thank you, Madeline,” Nicholas says, while pivoting to the woman, “for attacking my date; that was so necessary.”

  She scrunches up her pale freckled face into an insincere-looking smile.

  “Raven, this is Madeline.” He raises his fist in an exaggerated motion. “Defender of arachnids.”

  “Oh, Nicklaus, how’s the view up there, from that high horse you sit on?”

  Nicholas peers around slowly and says, “Splendid. And how’s the view from the compost you like to squat in?”

  Stephen clears his throat.

  Madeline acknowledges Stephen with wide eyes as if she just noticed him. For some reason, I don’t believe it.

  “Oh, Stephen, what might you be doing here?” She is talking to Stephen with her hazel eyes fixed on Linnie. “It’s seems my uncle invites anybody these days. And who’s this?”

  Stephen gestures to Linnie with his cigarette-free hand, “Fake-ex Linnie, meet my real-ex, Madeline?”

  Madeline turns my way, and even though I have to look down to meet her glare, I can’t help wilting from its ferocity. “Tell me, what is a ‘fake ex’?”

  I give a tight shrug. “It means they’re just friends.”

  The tension around her puckered mouth relaxes. Madeline nods, then brushes between Nicholas and me to start chatting with Linnie, her back to us.

  Nicholas stage whispers, “she hates me.”

  “I can tell.”

  He grasps my hand and steers me away from the chatting group.

  The tinkle of glasses and hum of many voices fill the foyer, although the space has emptied of people. Even the man who earlier had collected coats and hats, has left. I continue walking through, until Nicholas tugs my hand, leading me to the side of the room. He backs me to the bottom of a wooden stair railing.

  I chew on my lip. The intense way he’s gazing into my eyes tells me we’re about to have the conversation I hoped we’d never have. Maybe I can stop this. "Um, so, Stephen grew up here, but, uh, he seems as if he’s an outsider, uh, what's up with that? And Madeline is...” Nicholas's touch on my cheek silences me. I don’t want him to be touching my face, but I don't say anything.

  "Raven, I don't want to talk about Stephen, right now. I have something I've been meaning to say to you.”

  I hold my breath and nod.

  A flash of green in my peripheral vision makes me steal a look away from Nicholas to the open entrance of the foyer. Heart rate accelerating to rabbit-speed, I propel my gaze back to Nicholas.

  That wasn’t Andras; that couldn’t have been Andras. I peek one more time at the couple walking into the party. The man with his arm around that Scandinavian supermodel can’t possibly be Andras; I’m pretty sure his black wavy hair looks totally different from the back. Rubbing my lips together, I slow my breathing through my nose.

  “Raven...” Nicholas's thumb caresses down the cheek he's cupping.

  My face splits into a fanatical grin; I quickly drop the smile, moderating myself.

  What are the chances that Andras would be invited here? No, no way, that’s not him.

  Nicholas’s fingers tuck a curl behind my ear and my eyes widen with attention. I try on another smile.

  “I care about you, Raven...”

  If that was Andras, and it probably wasn’t, who was the woman with him? She was way too perfect; she must have been nipped or tucked or both. No one looks like that without major surgery.

  “I know we’ve known each other fewer than three weeks, but...”

  Does Andras have a girlfriend? But he kissed me, he flirted with me, he took me to his house, into his bed…

  Would he do that to me? Would he do that to her?

  “Am I upsetting you?”

  I blink up at Nicholas, stare while reviewing his words, and then shake my head.

  He steps even closer; his fingertips brush a ringlet off my shoulder. I want to step away but, as he's got me backed up against a railing, I can't do it without pushing him out of the way.

  Nicholas continues, “I feel strongly for you.” His hand stays on my shoulder, “I don’t want to scare you. This is all so quick, I know...” He inhales deeply then smiles. “What do you think?”

  I make myself meet his all-too-close gaze, “Nicholas...”

  “Oh.” His hand drops.

  “No, wait.” I grab for his hand; he shifts away and his hand is ever so slightly out of my reach. “It’s just… I’m leaving Sweden tomorrow. The time I’ve spent with you has been wonderful, but, I can’t let myself get attached. I’m just traveling through...”

  Nicholas stares at some point over my shoulder when he speaks, “Do you think that if you had more time here you would care for me the way I...”

>   “I, I do care for you,” I stammer.

  He pins me with his gaze. “Could you ever love me, if you stayed?”

  “I’m...” I swallow. “I’m sure I would Nicholas; but I don’t know in which way, yet.” I finally manage to grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “Hey, why should we torment ourselves with what could have happened? I have to leave...”

  “Do you?” He closes his hand around my grasp.

  “Um.” I peer around and notice, by some miracle, Stephen and Madeline entering the foyer, followed closely by Linnie. Pretending that I’m deliberating over what to say, I catch Linnie’s attention and give her a covert ‘save me’ motion with my eyes.

  “There you guys are!” Linnie runs up and squeezes in next to us. She says, “So Madeline stole my date and I decided to be just as devious and come and steal yours.” Linnie slaps my hand, forcing me to release Nicholas’s and hooks her arm through his. “Nicholas, I’m forcing you to dance with me.”

  Nicholas gives me a fleeting look, as Linnie hauls him from the room.

  “Go on and dance.” I manage a genuine smile. “We can talk later.” Once they are out of my sight, I slump against the railing and exhale.

  A thump draws my attention up to the second-floor landing. Someone steps back out of view, someone with black hair.

  I stare up at the spot where the figure had just been. That wasn’t him; it couldn’t have been him. Somebody was passing by and happened to lean over. I glance around the foyer one more time; the room is still empty.

  Hesitating before the first step, I lift up the front of my gown, revealing my scuffed-up ballet flats, and ascend the carpeted stair. There’s no harm in looking, is there? I’ll just climb the stairs, look around for one second, and then rejoin the party. I pause and turn around, before stepping onto the landing; I’m going back down. Two stairs down I stop, scrunch closed my eyelids and turn back.

  The landing widens out onto a small scarlet-carpeted room with a white, high winged couch and three hallways leading out. The black-haired man walks down the third hallway. He carries his jacket; wide shoulders stretch taut a black silk vest and swell through a white lay-down-collar tuxedo shirt. My examination of his backside is cut short, when he steps through a door and out of sight.