The Undoing of Regent House

Chapter 6

He was thirteen when he met Jem Porter. It was at the winter ball. Thirteen was the age one started attending balls. Thirteen was the age one was forced into tailcoats and bowties, stiff shoes and dress shirts. When he was too young to be invited, Ryan used to go to the rooftop with Dylan to look at all the stars. It used to drive Cricket mad since he had no idea where they had run off to- which served him right; Ryan always hated that old man- but it was the most fun Ryan had the whole year.

Things were always happier when his parents weren't in the house.

The winter ball was always an ostentatious, pretentious little thing. It was hoisted in a massive ballroom, decorated with statues carved from ice. Plates brimmed with food too delicate to eat and glasses were stained with wine too rotten to be considered a delicacy. Celia adored the winter balls- and that showed just how silly of an event Ryan thought the whole thing was.

Sadly enough, in Ryan's opinion, he knew more about the Porters than the Porters knew about themselves. His mother said they weren't the 'right society'. He wondered, briefly, who exactly determined the 'right society' anyway?

Either way, Mr Porter was a self-made businessman and Mrs Porter always made controversial conversations to get a laugh. So, they were far from it.

"There's a lake full of swans outside."

Ryan slowly turned to the speaker. It was a lanky boy, around his age, with messy brown hair and twinkling eyes. He had pointed eyebrows so that, when he grinned, he looked twice as cheeky and four times as mischievous. Ryan thought he looked like some gawky elf. Instinctively, Ryan lifted his chin. Without thinking, he looked more like the Regent he never wanted to be.

"So?" he asked snootily.

"Want to go catch one?" said Jem. "You look bored out of your mind."

Ryan caught his reflection in the hanging mirrors. He looked as proper as his mother wanted him to be- as groomed and as proud and as arrogant. For a moment, he hated himself.

Ryan pulled off his tailcoat and grinned roguishly at the elfin boy. "Sure," he said. "You look like you need the entertainment."

*

They didn't catch a swan, but a bevy of swans attacked them, wings clapping in thunderous delight. It was a disaster when people caught sight of the chaos from the ballroom windows, but it was hell on earth when Volumnia realized that it was a commoner and her son running and laughing away from it all.

"Embarrassed me- your name- your father- you stupid child-"

She was spitting fury. Her face was contorted. All Ryan could see were taught lines pulling her skin back. The whites of her eyes, yellow now, looked sickly with rage. Her mouth, dried by lipstick, looked ghastly.

She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and shoved him. "Are you listening?"

He threw her hand away. "Don't touch me."

She slapped him across the face. Her rings drew blood. He wanted nothing more than to scream that he hated her, that he wished her dead, that he wished he were dead, but his throat was too tight. All he felt was a prick of tears in the back of his eyes and the throb of his cheek. 

*

They were about to ascend the motor before Mrs Porter stopped by. Compared to Ryan's handsome mother, Mrs Porter looked portly. But, when she somehow managed to convince Volumnia to allow him to stay a few nights in their estate, Ryan thought she looked like an angelic cherub.

"Really?" he gawked.

"Close that mouth this instant," snapped Volumnia. "You are not a fish."

"We look forward to having you," said Mrs Porter, smiling. Her creamy cheeks were speckled with blush and her sweet smile was a promise. "We'll send our car this coming Thursday."

Ryan was too stunned to say anything. He wanted nothing more than to run after her and thank her, his heart bursting with gratitude, longing for freedom. But, his head could barely believe it and his body could barely comprehend.

*

"It's not fair!" Dylan stomped his foot at the base of the staircase. "Ugh!"

Dylan found out about the Porters on the morning that Ryan was meant to leave. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell his brother earlier; it was just that he didn't want to get his own hopes too high. Knowing his mother, she could've cancelled it or killed him- either one- before Thursday, stopping him from going. Volumnia already made clear her disapproval at breakfast, lunch and dinner of 'street rats dressing themselves as kings'.

Dylan blocked him at the staircase. His angry face softened into a pout. "Can I come?"

"No!" shouted Ryan.

"Why not?!"

"Because, you don't know Jem. He didn't invite you. He's my friend."

Cricket already had Ryan's trunk prepped onto the waiting carriage. Ryan had been dressed since morning, ready to run, ready to leave.

"It's not fair!"

"Stop your whining!" hissed Volumnia. She whapped the back of his head. "You are not a child."

Dylan nursed the back of his head but kept his angry eyes on Ryan. He had big grey eyes, his brother, like clean glass that overlooked a cloudy, rainy day. However, the whites turned red and brimmed with hot, prickling tears. His lower lip started to wobble. Ryan felt ashamed.

"Dylan-"

"Don't leave me here," he said.

"I'm... I'm really sorry, Dylan."

Dylan's face twisted with rage. For a moment, he looked just like their mother. "Fine! Go, I don't care!"

He turned on his heels and ran up the stairs. Ryan watched mournfully.

"I'll write to you!" yelled Ryan.

"Do not raise your voice in this house!" snapped his mother from the drawing room.

Dylan slammed his door shut. Ryan had already left the house.