Daughters of Fortune: A Novel (17 page)

Deciding to take a rest first, he propped her up against the wall. With one arm still supporting her, he started searching for his cigarettes. He was so caught up in his task that he didn’t notice the Ashford twins coming up behind him. They saw the unconscious girl in his arms and grinned at each other.

“Where’s lover boy sneaking off to?”

Elliott jumped guiltily, thinking he’d been caught. It took him a moment to realize it was only his roommates loitering in the shadows. In matching black tie, they were even harder than usual to tell apart. He relaxed a little, as much as he could when he was struggling to hold Caitlin up. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

“We got bored,” Seb said.

Nick held up a bottle of Bollinger that he’d swiped. “So we thought we’d bring the party up here instead. We didn’t expect you to be . . . er . . .
entertaining
, shall we say.” The twins’ eyes shifted simultaneously to Caitlin, who was slowly sliding down the wall.

“Oh dear,” Seb drawled. “Now she doesn’t look too good, does she, Nick?”

Nick nodded solemnly in agreement. “No, not too good at all.”

“She had a bit too much to drink,” Elliott started babbling. “I thought it’d be easier to bring her back here.”

The twins raised sceptical eyebrows.

Seb stepped forward. “Why don’t we give you a hand?”

With the other two helping, it was easy to carry Caitlin up the stairs and through to Elliott’s room. They dumped her face down on the bed, and then Seb and Nick left him to it.

It wasn’t as much fun as he’d thought it would be. He was used to girls being responsive, wanting it as much as he did. A limp body wasn’t quite so much of a turn-on. It didn’t help that in the living room, he could hear the pop of the champagne bottle being opened, the sound of the twins’ laughter filtering through the door. He had a feeling they were doing it deliberately.

It was kind of a relief to finally finish. He cleaned himself up, re-arranged her clothes, and went to join the others. As he came through the door, Seb drained his champagne, stood up, and made for Elliott’s room.

“What are you doing?” Elliott asked nervously.

Seb stared at him. “What do you
think
I’m doing?”

Elliott wanted to object, but he wasn’t really in a position to start acting morally superior. What was the harm? Surely she was too out of it to notice. He watched as Seb closed the door to his bedroom, and then turned to Nick.

“So what else have we got to drink around here?” he asked.

There wasn’t really anything else to do now, except get good and drunk.

_________

When Caitlin woke the morning after the Ball she knew something wasn’t right.

On the surface, nothing was out of place. She was in her room, in her bed, safe under her pink duvet, wearing her pajamas, her gown folded neatly over a chair. But she knew something was wrong. She felt wrong. Her limbs ached for one thing, as though she had the flu, and she thought she might throw up. She wondered if this was what a hangover felt like.

She remembered being at the ball, dancing, chatting, and laughing . . . then everything faded. She could feel the memories at the back of her brain, waiting to be unlocked. She closed her eyes and tried to remember, but she must have drifted off instead, because the next moment she was dreaming, detached from her body, as though she was watching herself in a movie . . .

She was in a room, a room as dark as a cave, lying on a bed of coats. At first she thought she was alone, but then the mattress sank down and she knew someone else was on the bed with her. The musky odor of aftershave told her it was a man.

“Elliott?” she tried to ask as he moved toward her.

But then she felt his full weight on top of her, forcing her legs apart, and she knew it couldn’t be Elliott, because he wouldn’t do something like that to her. Through her haze, she felt a tearing pain. And then he was pumping away at her, so hard that she wanted to cry out. But she couldn’t. On and on he went, until finally he stiffened and fell limp on top of her.

After a while his breathing steadied and he climbed off. She lay quietly, thinking that at least it was all over now. But then the door opened, there was a hushed conversation, and another person took his place. And then another . . . until every part of her ached and begged for them to stop.

This time when she woke, there were tears on her cheeks.

Everyone knew. Caitlin didn’t know how, but they knew. Everywhere she went, people were staring. As she walked along the corridor to the shower, she could feel them watching her. They were talking about her, too. Conversation died when she entered a room and resumed when she left. People’s eyes followed her as they whispered and laughed behind their hands.

She clutched her towel around her and hurried back to her room.

She waited for Elliott to come and see her. When he didn’t, she wasn’t sure what to do. She had no one to talk to. George could barely meet her eyes.

She didn’t go to dinner that night. She told Mrs. Collins that she wasn’t feeling well. In truth, she couldn’t face everyone staring at her.

She was sitting alone in her room, staring out of the window into the darkness, when there was a knock on the door. She got up to answer it, thinking that it must be Mrs. Collins coming to check on her. But when she opened the door, she found Elizabeth standing there, fierce and unsmiling.

Caitlin’s heart sank.
So she’s heard, too.

“We need to report what he did.” Elizabeth’s voice didn’t invite any argument. She’d heard the rumors in the senior refectory today. Caitlin with Elliott and the Ashford twins . . . Morgan had been gleefully spreading it around.

As first, she’d assumed it was all just talk. She’d come up to Caitlin’s room to let her know what was being said, so they could set everyone straight. But as soon as she’d seen Caitlin, eyes red and skin gray, she’d realized there was much more to this. Having forced her sister to tell her side of the story, she knew at once what had really happened last night. Caitlin was just too naïve to work it out. She thought she’d gotten drunk and agreed to do something she now regretted. Elizabeth
knew better. She’d heard whispers before but hadn’t believed Elliott would really stoop that low—although she wouldn’t put anything past the twins. Well, they weren’t getting away with it this time. Elizabeth was going to make sure of that.

“We’ll go to Dr. Phillips,” she said. “I’ll come with you, back you up.”

But Caitlin was adamant. “I don’t want to do that. I’m fine—”

“You’re not fine!” Elizabeth exploded. “God! Haven’t you learned anything from this? If you’d listened to me in the first place, then maybe—” She stopped abruptly, but it was too late. She could see from the hurt in Caitlin’s eyes that she’d already finished the sentence for her:
then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Damn. Had she really just said that? She hadn’t meant to make Caitlin feel even worse. But comforting people simply wasn’t Elizabeth’s forte. She was only good at taking action. Plus, she felt partially responsible, too. If she hadn’t been so busy, then she might have guessed what Elliott and the others were up to and been able to stop it. She had promised to look out for Caitlin, and she’d failed. She had no idea how she was going to make this right.

Caitlin looked up at Elizabeth. She seemed so angry. Caitlin couldn’t find it in herself to feel that way. She just felt . . . guilty. Whatever Elizabeth said, she couldn’t help believing it was her fault. She’d wanted to do it, hadn’t she? All those times she was with Elliott, she’d wondered what it would be like. Maybe he’d been able to sense that.

Elizabeth was staring intently at her. “This isn’t your fault,” she said, as if she was reading Caitlin’s mind.

“Maybe,” Caitlin said slowly. “But please . . . you can’t say anything.”

“Caitlin—”

“No.”
For once, Caitlin was insistent. She wanted to forget this. Dragging the headmistress in would only make it worse. “I mean it,” she said. “You have to swear that you won’t tell.” Caitlin could see that Elizabeth wanted to argue with her. But she also knew that her sister wasn’t the type to go behind her back. If she made a promise, she wouldn’t break it.

“Please, Elizabeth. It’s up to me. And this is what I want.”

The older girl sighed, reluctantly giving in.

“Fine. I won’t say anything.” Her green eyes narrowed dangerously. “But I still think they need to pay.”

*   *   *

A few days later, the gossip about Caitlin was upstaged by a greater scandal.

Dr. Phillips, Greycourt’s headmistress, received an anonymous tip that someone in the senior class was storing large quantities of drugs in their room. The accusation couldn’t be ignored. At dawn the following day, four staff members held an impromptu search of all seniors’ rooms.

The search took a little over forty minutes. It was finally called to a halt when half a kilo of cocaine was found in the living room shared by Elliott Falconer and the Ashford twins. The three were led away in their boxer shorts and rugby shirts to Dr. Phillips’s office, protesting their innocence.

No one believed them. It wasn’t the first time they’d been associated with rumors concerning drug use. The faculty had turned a blind eye for personal consumption, but this time the quantity involved was far too great to ignore. All three were immediately expelled.

“If they go quietly,” Dr. Phillips told both sets of parents, “the police won’t need to be called.”

Elizabeth never said anything about the matter, and Caitlin never asked her outright if she had anything to do with it. But the next time Caitlin passed Elizabeth in the hallway, she smiled at her. And, for the first time ever, the smile was returned.

After that, the last few days of the term passed quickly. Caitlin went through the motions, going along to the nativity play put on by the lower school, singing at the carol service, attending the Christmas lunch. On the outside, everything was perfectly normal. But inside she couldn’t get back to how she had been before that night. George invited her to stay with her family for a few days over the Christmas break, but Caitlin just wanted to be left alone.

Back at Aldringham, she found it hard to settle into the holiday festivities. She felt ridiculous. The
incident
, as she referred to it in her head, was over.
They
were gone from her life forever. There was no reason to mope. Elizabeth had said once, when they were alone, that if she ever wanted to talk, then she was happy to listen. But Caitlin had made it very clear that she didn’t. She just wanted to try to put what had happened behind her.

*   *   *

The sound of laughter made Caitlin glance up from her sketchbook. The large bay window in her room gave a clear view across the estate. She looked out at Amber and Elizabeth, who were walking back through the snow-covered grounds to the warmth of the house. Chris, the Melvilles’ groom, followed behind them, carrying a six-foot pine from the forest. The girls had gone with him to pick it out. Later that night, over mince pies and brandy, they would decorate it for Christmas. It was an annual ritual for the Melville children, Elizabeth had explained that morning at breakfast, when she’d invited Caitlin to join them. Caitlin had said that she would, but when the time had come this afternoon, she hadn’t wanted to.

In fact, she hadn’t been in the mood to do much recently. Ever since she’d gotten back for the Christmas holidays, she’d just been sleeping and sketching. Elizabeth tried to include her, but Caitlin just wanted to be left alone.

Half the time she felt numb, and she could handle that. But then other times she would feel a rush of anger so violent that it frightened her. The same futile thoughts kept going through her head. If her mother hadn’t died . . . if she hadn’t been sent to live with the Melvilles in the first place . . . then none of this would have happened. It was slowly consuming her, the knowledge that she should never have come to Aldringham; that she didn’t belong in this world.

Instinctively she looked toward the large wooden trunk that stood in the corner of the room. It contained all her mother’s clothes and personal belongings. Aunty Nuala had packed it up for her back in June, when they’d needed to clear the cottage out. The chest had been shipped to Aldringham from Ireland when Caitlin had first moved, but so far she hadn’t felt up to looking inside. Now, with everything that had happened, she needed the comfort of being among her mother’s things again.

Walking over to the trunk, she knelt in front of it. She kept the key on a chain around her neck. The lock was a little stiff, but finally she managed to open it. Slowly, carefully, she lifted the heavy oak lid. Inside, the lining was velvet and luxurious. It was one of the only pieces of furniture Katie had brought from her parents’ house when she’d originally moved to Wicklow. Caitlin remembered how it had sat at the foot of her mam’s bed, used for years as a blanket chest.

On the top lay two photo albums. She opened up the first one and saw her mother’s careful, loving documentation of her daughter’s life—Christmases and birthdays; holidays and school plays. Aware that she was already getting lost in the memories, Caitlin closed the albums and put them to one side. She wanted to see what else there was. For the next half-hour, Caitlin sifted through the contents of the trunk. Nuala had put everything she could have wished for in there—from her mother’s favorite clothes to the pieces of china she’d saved for “best”—wrapped individually in tissue paper, so as not to break.

At the bottom was a folder stuffed full of official documents—Katie’s high school diploma, Caitlin’s birth certificate, the deeds to the cottage. It was all much what Caitlin had expected to find, until she finally pulled out a little bundle of letters, tied together with a red ribbon. This looked more interesting. She turned the stack over in her hand. The envelopes were all made of the same expensive cream paper and were an identical size and shape. She loosened the ribbon and spread the envelopes across the floor. There were sixteen in all.