Grandeur

Chapter Fourteen

***TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE***

A girl should never be out of her home past sundown unless she is accompanied by a chaperone. It is in the dark that monsters and ghouls will come out to do their worst.

- Victoria Wainwright, "Cultivating Women of Substance"

"Penelope," I involuntarily gasped. "Ethel must have been confused. I'll get Elizabeth."

I only half turned before Penelope stood and said, "There's no need for that. I did, in fact, come here to see you."

I swallowed the rising bile and turned to face her again. Her gloved hands were folded demurely in front of her. She wore a nearly identical mourning dress as I did, with a high lace collar where her milky skin was just barely visible.

"Oh," I muttered. I sat on the nearest chair and Penelope sat back down as well. Her face was expressionless so I couldn't read whether she would laugh or attack me. "What can I do for you, Penelope?"

"Well," she began, "I've been meaning to visit you since I saw you at your mother's funeral. I'm so sorry for your loss, by the way. But I had no idea you were in New York, you see. I want to apologize - sincerely - for the way I acted all those years ago. We were children then, I feel like. I'm sure you know, but I suffered a terrible... accident. A trauma like that really changes a person. It made me see how terrible I was to everyone. I was able to make amends to those whom I hurt - that is, everyone, but you."

Her voice, I realized, had no remorse to it. Nor did her face. I remembered shortly after Elizabeth's fake death the wailing Penelope had done in this very parlor. It was quite some show. This, however, was a much less drama-filled visit. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Absolutely no emotion was put into this. I wasn't sure what her reason for this visit was, but it certainly was not to apologize.

I had been silent for too long. I realized Penelope was waiting for some type of response.

"I see," I sputtered out.

"Do you accept my apology?" she asked, leaning forward as if she were about to gobble up some juicy gossip.

"Penelope," I slowly began, my eyes, I could tell, were ablaze with the thrill of what I was finally going to be able to tell her, "you should know... well, Henry and I-"

"Yes," she said, looking down to her hands in her lap. "I know." I could swear I saw her smiling. "Henry told me yesterday."

Air was knocked out of me. No! This was not fair! I wanted the satisfaction of telling her, and seeing the look on her face. For once, I had won - not her.

"Well, as long as you're aware-" I began.

"You can't honestly believe he'd actually leave me for you, do you? We'd both be ruined and - let's face it, we both know Henry so well - we both know he wouldn't leave me in the state I am. God, I can see the headlines now: 'Henry Schoonmaker leaves grieving wife for little Holland girl.'" She looked up now and there, unsurprisingly, was the deep spark of evil in her eyes.

"He doesn't care about all that," I told her. "We'll be gone before all that anyways."

She gave a deep laugh. "Not if I have anything to do with it. I will never sign those papers. You'll never have him, little Diana."

She stood then, but I stayed seated, showing she had no power over me despite the fact that my blood was boiling under the surface. It took everything in me not to reach up and slap that perfect, flawless cheek.