Child of Darkness

by V. C. Andrews

  I slipped out of the black dress and then put on the tube. It was even tighter. Without a bra covering them, my nipples were practically popping through the material. It made me very self-conscious. She sensed it immediately.

  "You have a beautiful figure, Celeste. Don't be afraid to show it. As they say, if you have it, flaunt it. I do.

  "So, which one do you want to wear tonight?" she asked, stepping back and waiting as though my answer would determine the direction the rest of my life would take.

  I looked at the first dress and then looked up at the clothes on the racks. Wasn't there anything else, anything less revealing?

  "Those are my two favorite," she said, seeing where my gaze had gone.

  Not wanting to hurt or disappoint her, I decided on the first.

  "Good. I would have made the same choice," she told me. "Now you can go and rest up, shower, and fix your hair the best you can. We'll have dinner at seven tonight. I like to rest up, too, and then give myself a facial. I'll show you all that later, but you've got to walk before you run," she said, walking me to her bedroom door. "Just call down if you need anything. You dial ten, and Mrs. Cukor's phone rings."

  Call for what I need? Have servants cater to me? This was more like a grand hotel than a home, and considering where I had just come from, it was all still more like a dream.

  "Thank you," I said.

  She smiled, hugged me, and then stepped back into her room and closed the door.

  For a long moment I just stood there in the hallway, gazing at the chandeliers, the paintings on the walls, the glimmering wood floors. It was impossible not to be dazed by all the opulence rained upon me so quickly. I was thrilled, excited, and happy, but memories of my first foster home returned. I had such fears then, fears that I would lose myself, my identity, my family. I had such guilt over every little luxury I enjoyed. Every pleasure was a small betrayal in my child's mind. And the Prescotts were paupers com-pared to the Emersons.

  I knew what Noble would say. He would say, "Celeste, the devil has decided to raise the level of temptation until he has you where he wants you."

  I could feel that same guilt raining itself down upon me, each drop another tiny sting of conscience, trying to get me to turn away from all this, to reject it.

  I don't care, I thought defiantly. I deserve this. I've suffered enough, and I want it all. Why shouldn't I? Besides, it has to be my destiny. It has to be something meant to happen.

  I knew no matter what I said or believed, if Noble were here, he would not approve. He was afraid of anything that could make me forget my past, forget the farm and what waited for me back there. However, I was sure that if he was trying to come chastise me, he was finding it more impossible than ever. The lights were too bright in this house. Shadows could hide nothing.

  At least, that was what I hoped.

  5 Little Lies

  . Next to the television set was a cabinet in which had been placed a number of music CDs. Another drawer had a video collection as well. There wasn't one I had seen, even on television. From the titles and the pictures on the covers as well as the blurbs about each, it was easy to see every one of them was about romance.

  I chose a CD and played it while I continued to explore the room and the view from my windows. Having so much private space was as luxurious to me as soaking in a warm bubble bath. I couldn't stop walking around and around, into the bathroom and out, back to the closet to admire the size of it, and then to bounce on my bed and let myself fall back on the fluffy pillows as if I was falling from an airplane and floating.

  I was lying there staring up at the ceiling and enjoying my music when I heard a knock on my door. Before I could get to the door to respond, And burst into the room. She was in a pink silk robe, her hair wrapped in a towel. Her face was flush from her skin treatment, and she was carrying a small red leather pouch under her arm like a football player carries a football.

  "I decided you should look the best for your first formal dinner here. For now, here are some of my favorite cosmetics," she said.

  She placed the pouch on the vanity table and opened it. I stepped up beside her.

  "We have similar complexions, and all this always looks great on me," she said. I wasn't sure that was true, but I wasn't going to disagree. "What do you know about makeup? I noticed right off that you don't use any."

  "No," I said, laughing. "We weren't even permitted to wear lipstick at school. Mother Higgins didn't approve."

  "Not even lipstick! That's so ridiculous. What did she think would happen if you did? Sin would follow? Forget about it." She shook her head hard as if she had to get rid of a horrible, painful thought. "Forget about all of it," she said quickly. "Pretend your past is written on one of those magic toy pads where you lift the sheet and everything disappears so you can start anew.

  "Make believe that you've always lived here; we've always been together. There was no yesterday. There is only tomorrow, and tomorrow is always more important than today anyway."

  She looked at her watch.

  "Okay, we have time for a short lesson. We'll do eyes tonight. Sit," she said, pulling out the chair at the vanity table.

  I did so, and she came around behind me and looked at me in the Mirror. She tilted her head as she thought and then nodded at a decision she had made.

  "We need to make your eyes appear larger, just like I have to do with mine. Keep one eye open while I do the other so you can see how it works and do it yourself afterward, okay?"

  "Sure," I said, even though I didn't think we had the same shape and size eyes, just like I didn't think we had the exact same complexion. However, I was intrigued with the whole idea of making up my face. Not only weren't we permitted to wear lipstick at school, I had never owned a tube of one or ever borrowed anyone else's to put on after school.

  She reached into the bag and produced a tin of eye shadow. Using the brush on the table, she dipped it into the tin and then brought the brush to my eye.

  "From the lash line to the brow," she said, and did it.

  She opened another tin and took up another brush.

  "We'll use a medium-tone color for the crease beneath the brow," she said, and blended it in. Then she reached for an eye pencil. "Work from the outer corner to the inner corner and stay close to your lashes. Then line the bottom lid from the outer corner only about one-third of the way, see?" she asked as she demonstrated it all.

  "Yes."

  "Okay," she said, and took up the eye-shadow brush again. "Let's add another layer of light eye shadow from the lash line to the brow bone, blending like so." After that she picked up a cotton swab. "Be sure to get rid of any excess makeup and dust away any loose powder. I just hate it when those old ladies come with makeup dripping all down their cheeks. They look like their faces are coming apart right before our eyes, shedding like snakes or something.

  "Now," she said, returning to the pouch, "we just apply the mascara. Pull the wand straight up like this, see? Don't pull it out. Then lightly do the bottom lashes. Voila!" she cried, stepping back after she had done it. "Look at the difference between your madeup eye and the other."

  I nodded, impressed.

  She stepped up and put her arms around my shoulders, bringing her cheek next to mine as she spoke to me through the mirror.

  "There are lots of little tricks I'm going to teach you, Celeste. It will be like just doing it for the first time again for me. Your face will be my face, and vice versa." She stepped back. "Go on, do your other eye yourself. I'll watch," she said, folding her arms.

  I did it, following the steps she had

  demonstrated. When I was finished, she clapped.

  "That was perfect, and the first time, too. You are a fast learner."

  It's not brain surgery, I thought, but didn't say it.

  "The next time we'll work on how to make your lips look fuller. We'll experiment with different shades. We'll put on different eyes. We'll do all of it! I can show you how to put makeup on so yo
ur whole face is sexier. Good girls can be devilish, too," she said, laughing.

  She returned to her small leather pouch.

  "For now, try this lipstick. It's subtle," she said, removing the top. It didn't look subtle to me. "Oh, wait," she said, reaching into the bag again. "Put on this lip gloss first. It will keep your lips from looking dried out. Go on," she said when I hesitated. I did it and then applied the lipstick. "It does look like you're doing it for the first time," she said, snatching the tube from my hand. "Don't press so hard."

  She took a tissue and wiped the corner of my mouth. Then she looked at me and nodded.

  "You're a perfect candidate for improvement," she said, which raised my eyebrows. "Anyone can use improvement, Celeste. Even me," she said with a laugh. "One more thing." She reached into the bag. "Use this cologne. Basil loves it on me. Okay, get dressed. We'll go down to dinner together, but we'll go down at least ten minutes late. Never, ever be on time for anything that involves men," she advised. "The worst thing you can do is let a man take you for granted. And here's a secret my own mother taught me."

  She leaned toward me to whisper, as if the room was bugged and it really was a big secret. I held my breath in anticipation.

  "Always make a big deal over the smallest things. If your boyfriend forgets to open the door for you or bring out your chair at the dinner table or walks ahead of you, pounce on him as if he committed murder."

  She pulled back and smiled.

  "He'll think to himself, If she makes so much of that, what would she do if I did something significant? It's always good to keep them retreating."

  "It sounds like a war, not a romance," I said before I could stop myself.

  She stopped smiling, thought a moment, and then her smile returned like a wave of glee, undulating down from her temples, around her eyes, and over her lips.

  "Well, that's exactly what it is, Celeste, a war. Haven't you ever heard that expression, All's fair in love and war?"

  "Yes," I said, but I thought to myself that if there were so many little battles going on between a husband and a wife in their home, what made it a family? What made it warm and wonderful? What kind of a garden did it provide for love to flourish and grow stronger? I often thought of places and people in terms of a garden. In the world Ami was describing, the children would be growing in turmoil.

  "Don't look so pensive and serious, Celeste. Men hate that. You know why?" she asked. I shook my head. "Because they're afraid you're smarter, and you can see through them. As I told you, they are very in-secure. You'll discover quickly that I'm right, I'm sure. You'll see for yourself that Wade's father isn't really as confident as he makes himself out to be. Selfish, yes, but secure, no. As I said," she repeated, as though it was the most important lesson of life, "that's why he is such a womanizer. He has to prove himself to himself all the time. Men," she said, and shook her head. "They never grow up.

  "Not that I want us to behave like two mature and responsible women all the time. Heaven forbid the thought." She looked at her watch. "I'll start dressing. Don't rush, but if you're getting antsy, come to my room. Wade's already dressed and downstairs in the office with his father, discussing boring business things. Not that you'll see much difference in what he wears.

  "Oh, this is so wonderful," she said, gazing about the room and then at me. "I have someone I can whisper secrets to in my own home. There is nothing as sad as a secret dying on the vine, wilting away unspoken. I read that in a romance novel once and never forgot it."

  She paused, pressed her hand to her heart, and looked up as if she was on a stage.

  "She was filled with unspoken secrets, dead and gone, shaking about like ashes in the chambers of her lonely heart," she recited, laughed, and hurried out.

  It was as if I had shut a window and stopped the wind from blowing everything around the room.

  Less than a minute passed, however, before she was back.

  "I realized you definitely need some jewelry. Here," she said. "Let's get this necklace on you, and you can have one of my dress watches." Before I could say anything, she looped the string of pearls over my head and fastened them. She held her hands over them for a moment and sighed.

  "We'll be such a hit," she declared, and left again.

  I stood there staring at the door, holding my breath and waiting to see if there was something more she had forgotten, but this time she didn't return. After I put on the dress she had chosen for me and the match-ng thongs, fixed my hair, and put on the beautiful dress watch, I stood before the full-length mirror and gazed at myself. With the makeup, the jewelry, and the clothes, it was truly as though I were looking at a different person.

  And then suddenly, I thought I saw Noble standing just behind me. He looked devastated, about to cry. He didn't look any different, any older, but obviously I looked very different to him.

  "Noble?"

  I spun around, but the moment I did so, he was gone. Was he there, or had I imagined it? I had no doubts about what Dr. Sackett would say. "You're just unsure of yourself and a little nervous and frightened. Get stronger. Close your eyes and get stronger."

  "Yes," I whispered. "I will."

  Before I could think any more about it, my door opened, and Ami burst in once more. She was wearing a buttercup yellow dress with a pair of see-through shoes. She turned to show me the low-cut back.

  "I just bought this," she said. "It's a charmeuse gown with embroidered mesh and, as you see, a sheer chiffon kick pleat in the back. Makes it sexier, don't you think? Look," she said, raising her right foot, "I'm wearing Cinderella's glass slipper. Only I'm not going to turn into a poor young woman at twelve," she added. "Well?" She spun and looked at me. "What do you think?"

  "It's beautiful, Ami. What's charmeuse mean?"

  "It just means a see-through shiny fabric. Oh, I have so much to teach you, but it will be so much fun for me. You look beautiful, too. Come on. We're properly late," she said, hooking her arm through mine.

  We went to the stairway, where she stopped, corrected her posture, and then started us down. I heard the sound of a man's laughter reverberate down the hallway below.

  "Basil must've told Wade one of his off-color jokes. Wade doesn't laugh at them, so Basil always laughs loudly himself to make up for it," Ami explained.

  As we approached the bottom of the stairway, Wade and his father appeared in the hallway, coming out of the den-office. Basil looked a good two inches or so taller. He obviously had dyed his hair. There wasn't a gray strand in the dark brown, which was styled more for a much younger man. He was handsome, with a firm mouth, hazel eyes, and a nearly perfect nose. However, there was nothing pretty-boy about him. The lines in his face were what people called character lines. I thought he looked like an older movie star.

  He had twice the shoulders Wade had, and a thicker neck. His dark blue sports jacket and slacks looked tailored to his athletic body. He wore a matching blue tie and black shoes. I saw the diamonds twinkling on his gold watch. He stared up at us with a slight wry smile on his lips.

  "Well, now, who is this budding beauty next to our own princess?" he asked.

  "This is Celeste," Ami said. "Celeste, meet my father-in-law, Basil Emerson."

  "Hello," I said.

  He widened his smile and stepped forward, reaching out to take my hand to guide me down the remaining steps. Then he turned to Wade.

  "You made her sound like some poor, sadfaced, lost orphan girl."

  Wade's face filled with blood so fast, it looked as if the top of his head might lift off. "I did not," he protested.

  "Ami, you're looking as ravishing as usual," Basil said, ignoring his son. "What a pair of beauties. Much too much for Wade to handle by himself. If I were married to you, Ami, you'd have a couple of kids crawling all over this place for sure by now."

  He glanced at Wade and then turned back to us.

  "I might just move back into the house to make sure these women are treated as they should be treated," he added, and
laughed. Wade dropped his eyes quickly to hide his embarrassment.

  "Oh, Basil," Ami cried, "you're such a flirt."

  "I hope I'm more than that. Teenage boys flirt. Real men seduce," he added with another laugh.

  Wade turned away.

  "Ladies," Basil said, holding his arms up and out. "May I escort you to dinner?"

  Ami took his left arm, and I took his right. Then he glanced at Wade and spoke over his shoulder.

  "Cover the rear and watch how it's done," he told him as we started for the dinning room.

  Ami was beaming.

  "My, you both smell delightful," Basil said, bringing his nose close to my cheek. "I feel like I'm drowning in a beautiful lake reeking of female aromas. Who will save me?"

  "Not us," Ami replied, and he laughed as we entered the dining room.

  As it turned out, Wade was the one made to sit in the chair with his back to the windows. Ami and I sat across from him, and Basil Emerson sat at the head of the table. Mrs. Cukor served the dinner, with Mrs. McAlister looking in from time to time. I gathered that she did this only when Basil Emerson came to dinner. I noticed that whenever Mrs. Cukor brought something in, she avoided looking at me as much as she could.

  "So now," Basil Emerson said, "tell us all about yourself, Celeste. How long have you been in an orphanage?"

  "About eleven years, with a short break when I went to live with two elderly people."

  "Eleven years! I bet if they had dressed you like And has, you would have gotten adopted real fast," he said, and laughed. "Hell, I would have adopted you." He turned to Wade and said, "Sad-faced, poor orphan girl?"

  "I didn't say that, Dad," Wade countered. "Stop saying I said that."

  "Well, what did you say?" Basil snapped back. He was drinking his wine quickly and had apparently al-ready had a few drinks in his office-den with Wade.

  "I merely said she was unfortunate."

  "Unfortunate." He turned to Ami, who smiled and nodded.

  "That's true, Basil. She was unfortunate," she said, "but she isn't anymore."

  "I'll drink to that," Basil said, lifting his glass.