Ellis tripped on the edge of the rug and fell forward, catching himself on the back of a chair. He navigated his way around it, clutching it all the while, and dropped onto its seat. His eyes were bloodshot, his forehead was shiny, and I was shot through with dread.
Hank was so busy looking at Meg that he planted himself squarely on the arm of the second chair before tumbling sideways into it, leaving his head hanging over one upholstered arm and his legs dangling off the other. After a few seconds of stunned surprise, he hauled himself upright.
Ellis looked me up and down. His eyes narrowed. His lip curled in disgust. “What’s this?”
I knew he meant my cheap dress and lack of stockings, but I feigned ignorance.
“They’re going to a dance,” I said. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“It’s what?” said Hank. “Oh shit. I should have sent something to Violet.”
“No, I meant this…getup,” said Ellis, waving the back of his hand toward me. “It’s like a combination of scullery maid and streetwalker.”
I clamped my mouth shut. There was no point in explaining why I was dressed the way I was. There was no point in doing anything at all, except keeping quiet and hoping the moment would pass.
“Well, I think she’s a sight for sore eyes,” said Hank, still fixated on Meg. “If I’d known she’d be so excited about a pair of stockings, I would have given her a dozen. I’d have given her as many as she wanted. In fact, there’s no telling what I might give that girl. With that face and figure, she could come up in the world, like Maddie’s mother.” He swung his head briefly toward me. “No offense, darling girl.”
“Don’t take up with trash, Hank,” said Ellis, still staring at me. “Blood will out. It always does.”
“What?” Hank asked vaguely. He was back to gazing at Meg’s calves.
“You can’t make a silk purse is what,” said Ellis.
“No, those are definitely silk. Look at those gams. I bet they’re a mile long. They deserve nothing less than the finest silk…”
“Hank?” I said desperately. I waved, trying to get his attention. “Hank!”
He glanced quickly and said, “You look nice, too, Maddie. Definitely a silk purse.”
“So, Maddie, this silk purse of yours,” Ellis said with deadly purpose, “is it red, or is it green?”
Adrenaline blasted from my core to my extremities.
“I beg your pardon?” I said.
“It is red, or is it green?”
“It’s a fine brocade, a veritable smorgasbord of color,” said Hank, still completely oblivious to the parallel conversation.
“Maddie? You didn’t answer me,” said Ellis. The corner of his right eye began to twitch.
“I can’t,” I said, looking into my lap.
“And why’s that?”
“Because you were right.”
“About what?”
“About everything.”
“Say it!”
“Fine! There’s no silk purse! There’s only a sow’s ear!”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Submission is a color that suits you, my dear. You should wear it more often.”
“I suppose you would know,” I said, before turning toward the bar.
Meg was serving slices of cake to an admiring audience. Rory had still not arrived, and while she was putting on a brave face I could tell she was wilting.
“I’d have some of her cake, oh yes indeed,” Hank said with a low whistle. He swiveled suddenly in his seat. “Say, kids—I just had a crazy idea! Let’s go to the dance—it’ll be like the servants’ ball at Christmas. You two lovebirds can do your own thing, and I…well, I might just find a pretty little lovebird of my own. To tide me over, so to speak.”
He beamed expectantly at us. When neither of us answered, his smile fell away. His eyes darted suspiciously between us.
“Oh, come on,” he groaned, before glancing at the ceiling in despair. “Are you two at it again? Let me guess. Ellis said something totally stupid, and now you’re not talking to him. Hell, you’re not even looking at him. Is this what marriage does to people? No wonder I want nothing to do with it. Neither one of you is an ounce of fun anymore.” He sighed and turned back toward the bar. “Now that one over there, she looks like an ounce or two of fun…”