When I woke, it was to Rachel’s voice.
I lay on a cushioned table or platform of some kind, and my head was raised so that I had a view of the transformed room: the thick carpets and plush velvet curtains. There were modern lamps, standing and on tables, and a number of candelabra filled with lighted candles that smoked faintly in the big room. I smelled burning wax and perfume. Rachel’s My Sin, but there were other scents as well. Laughter and murmuring voices came to me from all directions. Above my head were the theater’s new twin chandeliers. All was comfort, richness. The refinished paneled walls had a silken glow. It should have been beautiful. But it was not. It was pure evil.
“I bet you feel a little funny.” Rachel looked far different from how she’d looked when I’d seen her at the hospital. Her hair was swept up and sleek against her head, not full and lush as I was used to seeing it. She didn’t need a mask like the others, because she wore exaggerated, Kabuki-like makeup. It made her look unusually childish, like an expensive doll. Her cheeks were heavily rouged as though to contradict the deathly pale ivory foundation beneath it, her eyes lined to freakish roundness, the lids painted a brighter white than the foundation. But there was something else unfamiliar about her. Her eyes were reddened from some drug or alcohol—in fact, she held a goblet (one of Olivia’s jewel-toned goblets from the butler’s pantry) full of wine—but there was also an edge to her voice. It was clipped and precise as though it pained her to speak.
It all led me to wonder if maybe I wasn’t in a dream after all. The Rachel I knew loved to dress up in costume, but only if it was flattering.
“Not to worry. It’s not permanent.” She gave a little giggle. “At least Jack and Press say it’s not. We trust them, don’t we? You just have to be very still for a while. Jack says you probably won’t even remember.”
I tried to speak, but my tongue felt thick and useless. What if my lungs stopped working and I couldn’t breathe?
“Shhhh. Shhhh.” Seeing panic in my eyes, Rachel patted my arm. I could feel her hand on me, but why couldn’t I push her away?
“Before anything happens, we must have a talk. Just you and me.” She glanced around. Satisfied, she said, “I have a secret to tell you, darling. I’m afraid it’s a secret you’re not going to like very much.”
I couldn’t stop her. God help me, I didn’t want to know any secrets from her. There had been enough secrets. Far too many secrets.
“Listen.” Rachel came even closer and traced a finger over my cheek. “Eva was at my house that day, while you were sleeping off your indiscretion with the champagne. You know how much she loved the geese.”
Eva! She was talking about Eva. She was going to tell me this thing, and I couldn’t stop her. I could barely move my head.
I tried to say no, but it came out as an animal grunt.
She touched my hair.
“I was glad when you cut your hair. You’re not as pretty with short hair, Charlotte. Your jaw is too square. It’s too mannish.” When she glanced away, I knew she was looking at—or for—Press. Always Press. How had I not seen? She turned back to me, her painted lips a small moue of dissatisfaction. “I couldn’t deny her the chance to feed the geese, and she’d asked so nicely. She had such lovely manners for a little girl. That made you happy, didn’t it? Perfect little girl for perfect you.” Now her face was very close to mine, and I could smell the sour wine on her breath. Her lipstick was smeared and her false eyelashes untidy. I imagined her face pressed into one of the enormous pillows that lay strewn about the room, unspeakable things being done to her, her face hot against the silk. I felt as though I might retch.
“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you thirsty? No one ever goes dry here, you know.” She held the glass of wine to my lips, and the thick bouquet of grapes made my stomach turn. I turned my head from it as far as I could and felt the wine slide down my chin.
“You always were a baby about wine. Remember that time you puked all over your shoes the night before Easter break? You were all upset because Nonie had sent you the shoes from Richmond. Fucking Nonie. Fucking in-everyone’s-business Nonie. You know your father was fucking her all along, yes? Everyone knew but you. We used to laugh about it, Press and Jack and I. Couldn’t stop.”