Masquerade

“What are you doing here?” Schuyler demanded. “I thought you were keeping out of it.” She tried to feel anger, but all she felt was elation. Her grandfather! Had he changed his mind?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lawrence asked. “I’ve returned. Your words wounded me deeply, Schuyler. I could not live with myself knowing how cowardly I had acted. Forgive me, it has been a long time since Cordelia and I had made the pact. I never expected anyone would come looking for me.”

He walked over to the picture window overlooking the frozen Hudson River. Schuyler had forgotten that their living room had such a marvelous view. Cordelia had kept the curtains drawn for years.

“I could not let you go back to your old life, alone. I have been in exile long enough. It is time for New York to remember the power and the glory of the Van Alen name. And I have come to raise you. You are, after all, my granddaughter.”

In answer, Schuyler buried herself in her grandfather’s arms and hugged him tight. “Cordelia was right about you. I knew she would be.”

But before she could say anything more, the doorbell chimed loudly several times, as if someone were pressing it in a highly agitated manner.

Schuyler looked at her grandfather. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Not at the moment. Anderson is joining me in a week, after he has closed up my homes in Venice.” He looked grave. “It appears my return to the city was not as secret as I had hoped.”

Hattie moved to answer the door, but Lawrence waved her away. “I’ll handle this,” he said as he opened the door. Charles Force and several Wardens from The Committee stood on the doorstep, looking grim and determined.

“Ah, Lawrence.” Charles Force smiled thinly. “You have honored us with your presence once again.”

“Charles.” Lawrence nodded.

“May we come in?”

“By all means,” Lawrence said graciously. “Schuyler, I believe you know everybody. Charles, Priscilla, Forsyth, Edmund, this is my granddaughter, Schuyler.”

“Yeah, um. Hi,” Schuyler said, wondering why her grandfather was acting as if the Wardens had simply dropped in for a friendly visit.

They ignored Schuyler.

“Lawrence, I’m sorry about this,” Priscilla Dupont said in her gentle, mellifluous voice. “I was overruled.”

“It’s quite all right, my dear. I must say, it delights me to see you so well. It has been a long time since Newport.”

“Too long,” Priscilla agreed.

“Enough of this,” Charles interrupted irritably.

“Lawrence, I do not recall your exile being revoked. You must appear before the Conclave to formally testify. If you will come with us, please.”

“What’s happening?” Schuyler cried, as two Wardens took a hold of Lawrence’s arms on either side. “Where are they taking you?”

“Do not fear, granddaughter,” Lawrence said. “If I do not have a choice, I shall go willingly. Charles, you will find no contest from me. Schuyler, I should be back soon.”

Charles Force snorted. “We shall see about that.”

Schuyler watched as they led her grandfather out the door and inside one of the black cars in front of the building. She felt like crying. Just when she thought help had finally arrived, it was taken away as quickly as it had come.

“Has he gone?” Hattie asked, storming in from the kitchen. “Thank the Lord.”

“He’ll be back,” Schuyler said. She walked over to the portrait Lawrence had been studying. It was a painting of a wedding, hidden underneath an acid-free cloth for years, dating from the early eighteenth century. There was Cordelia in her wedding dress, looking comely and prim. The man standing beside her, wearing a crisp morning suit and ascot, had the unmistakable, hawkish features of a young Lawrence Van Alen.





New York Herald


Archives



* * *



FEBRUARY 10, 1872

MARRIAGE ANNOUNCEMENT



* * *



INVITATIONS HAVE BEEN ISSUED for the marriage of Miss Caroline Vanderbilt, daughter of Admiral and Mrs. Vanderbilt, and Alfred, Lord Burlington, on Thursday evening, February 24, at six o’clock, at the home of the bride elect’s parents, 800 Fifth Avenue. The Reverend Mr. Cushing of this city will officiate. Miss Vanderbilt will be attended by her younger sister, Miss Ava Vanderbilt, and the Marquis of Essex will act as best man. There will be a reception after the ceremony. The bride’s family is prominent in society, and among the eight-hundred invited guests will be the governor of New York and the mayor of this city. Lord Burlington is an exchange broker, doing business in London and New York, and is the eldest son of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire. The bride and groom will then leave for an extended tour of the Indian subcontinent.



* * *





TWENTYONE

Melissa de la Cruz's books