by Lisa Tuttle
Rose looked at the beautiful blonde girl driving the car so confidently, and felt a tremor of unreality.
‘Why?’ Then, more suspiciously, ‘How could you have?’
Olivia chuckled. ‘You don’t believe me. All right, you never heard of me before you started at Livingston-Duckett High School. But I’d heard of you. Your gran is one of Nanny’s closest friends. Some old ladies tell their grandchildren fairy tales; mine always told me stories about the people she knew. Gossip and local history: those were my bedtime stories. So I heard all about your mom’s scandalous elopement.’
‘Scandalous?’ Rose was fascinated; she’d never heard such a word associated with her parents. Certainly the way they’d talked about their own lives, pre-Rose and Simon, struck her as pretty dull. ‘Why? Was she engaged to somebody else first? Chris wasn’t married before?’
Olivia laughed again, a sound Rose already liked. ‘Oh, no, nothing like that. Maybe scandalous is too harsh a word, and nobody but Nanny disapproved of the marriage. But she was bound to. To her way of thinking, anybody lucky enough to be born in Locust County ought to have the good sense to stay here. It was bad enough that your mother had to marry an outsider – although an Englishman is better than a Yankee; since the Ducketts can trace their family tree back to the middle ages in England, we’re all kind of Anglophiles – but that she should actually go and live in somewhere other than here, and allow her children to be born and raised in a foreign country … well!’
‘Does my grandmother feel like that?’
‘Probably. Most of the people around here, not just the old folks, but all the ones who are comfortably off, can’t understand why anyone would ever want to leave. They don’t have any interest in the rest of the world, not even for a vacation. But I’m different. I mean to see the world, and make an impact outside of Duckett Green.’ Olivia gave a short little nod, then turned her head to flash a dazzling smile at Rose. ‘Now. Tell me about England!’
‘Do you want the one minute or the ten minute version?’
‘Oh, both, please, and the uncensored, three-hour director’s cut, too. I’m sorry, what a dumb question! I’m just so curious, though, and I’ve never been anywhere out of state except North Carolina, Tennessee, and Washington, D.C.’
‘Well, I’ve never been to any of those places, but I’ve lived in France and Wales and several different parts of England.’
‘Oh, darn, I guess I’m not going to hear very much about any of them today – here’s the turn-off to Wishbone Creek.’
The journey had gone too swiftly for both of them. ‘Why don’t you come in for a while?’
‘Thanks, I wish I could, but I have to get back. I will just run in and say how-do to Mrs Simmons, because Nanny’d tear a strip off me if I didn’t …’ As Olivia finished speaking, she parked the car neatly in the driveway.
‘You drive really well.’
‘Well, thank you!’
‘Have you had the car for long?’
‘Two months. It was a present for my seventeenth birthday. Before that I had an old clunker. Do you drive?’
‘Oh, no. I’m just fifteen.’
Olivia snorted. ‘That’s no excuse. I learned how to drive when I was thirteen. I’ll teach you if you like.’
Rose felt her jaw drop. ‘You mean it?’
‘Sure.’ Olivia gazed intently into her eyes for a moment. ‘We’re going to be friends, honey. Don’t look so surprised. Now let’s go inside and pay our courtesies.’
6 Duellers in Disguise
Rose wandered beside the creek, wishing for a friend.
She had been thinking about Illyria, but that was too frustrating. She longed to go there, and couldn’t. She’d planned to spend most of Saturday plugged into the computer, but she hadn’t reckoned on her gran’s response.
‘You’re not going to sit in your room all day! You’ve been sitting at a desk all week. Now it’s the weekend, and that’s time for you to go outside, get some fresh air and exercise! Now, run along.’
‘But … there’s nothing to do.’
‘Nonsense! There’s the creek. Why, I remember when you and Simon spent the summer here when you were little, we could hardly keep you away from it. Getting you to come indoors was the hard part.’
‘Gran, I was much younger then. I’m fifteen now. And anyway, I had Simon to play with then. It’s not the same on my own.’
‘Well, if you want company, why not call up one of your friends? Why not ask Olivia to come over and visit?’
Rose shrank from the thought. Although Olivia had continued to be friendly to her at school, she hadn’t, for all her airy, early promises of driving lessons and friendship, actually suggested when they could get together, and Rose couldn’t help feeling that the first invitation should come from the older girl.
‘Maybe another time,’ she had muttered and, reluctantly, left the house to wander around by herself, inhaling her required quota of fresh air.
It was hot and sultry. The air tasted stale rather than fresh. Rose stopped walking, wiped the sweat from her forehead and lifted the hair off the back of her neck to try to cool herself. She wondered if Gran would let her ‘exercise’ inside in the air-conditioning, maybe cleaning the bathroom or something.
She was excited about the duel tonight and didn’t know what she was going to do with herself until then. She’d been hoping for some brilliant idea as to how she could help Count Orsini, but nothing occurred to her. Nothing that would be fair, anyway. All she could do was stand by and wait to pick up the pieces.
Just thinking of the CyberQueen made her feel nervous. She’d learned what to do, what to say, how to react to unwanted male advances on the Net, but they weren’t a problem when she was using a male persona. She’d never been hit on by a woman before, and the CyberQueen was especially intimidating. She really didn’t want to make her angry, or wind up in a fight. And she didn’t want Count Orsini to know she was worried, or he might get suspicious that she wasn’t what she claimed to be. Men were supposed to like it when women flirted with them. They were supposed to respond in kind, not try to escape.
Somehow, thought Rose, she – or rather Roberto – was going to have to play along. After all, it was only a game. She wasn’t a dashing young swordsman, but neither was the CyberQueen really an amazon in leathers; probably in real life she was some fat, spotty little girl who had never talked to a boy without blushing and stammering.
Count Orsini, that flame-haired, bearded giant, wasn’t real either, but Orson was. And whenever Rose met Orsini in Illyria it was Orson she saw in her mind’s eye. School and Illyria, reality and fantasy, were becoming hopelessly entangled in her mind. She could hardly believe her own eyes, therefore, when she walked around the side of the old barn and saw Orson Banks standing there.
She walked closer, and he smiled at her tentatively. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘You’re Rose, aren’t you? We have a couple of classes together. I’m Orson Banks.’
Her heart gave such a lurch it was like she’d been hit in the throat. She could only croak in reply. Orson looked worried and put his hand out. ‘Are you OK? Rose?’
She wished she could put her head against his chest and listen to his heart. She wished she could just collapse, swooning, into his arms and let him hold her. But she wasn’t a Victorian maiden, and if he was going to hold her, she’d rather it wasn’t out of pity. She pulled away.
‘I’m feeling the heat a bit,’ she said weakly.
‘Sit down. Here, rest here.’ He led her over to a white van parked in front of the barn. The back doors were open, and he helped her to sit. ‘Just rest a minute, then I’ll help you on up to the house. I guess you’re not used to our climate yet.’
Already she was feeling better as she realized it could be no accident that he was here. He must have come to see her. She hadn’t thought he’d even noticed her at school, but he’d known her name.
‘Better?’
Rose nodded. ‘I’d just been walking down b
y the creek and was headed back to the house. I didn’t expect to see you; not here.’
‘My daddy told Mrs Simmons to expect me sometime before noon.’
‘Why?’
‘I work for my daddy, making deliveries on the weekends. Your grandmother ordered some chicken feed. I’d just put the sacks in the barn like I usually do when I saw you walking up towards me. You looked kind of funny, like you didn’t see me, almost like you were sleepwalking.’
‘I was thinking about something.’ She was afraid she was blushing. Of course he hadn’t come to see her.
‘I’ll walk you back to the house.’
‘I’m OK,’ she said shortly, but he went with her anyway and knocked on the door.
‘Hello, Mrs Simmons, how are you today?’
‘All the better for seeing you,’ Gran twinkled. ‘So, you’ve met my darling granddaughter?’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am, we have a couple of classes together.’
Gran widened her eyes in amazement. ‘Really? Do you know, I always thought you were two years older than my Rose. Aren’t you a senior?’
‘Yes, ma’am, I am.’
‘They’ve put me into senior French and English, that’s all,’ Rose interrupted. ‘You knew that, Gran.’
‘Why, so I did, yes, that’s right. How nice that the two of you are friends! How’s Maudie?’ In a rapid aside to Rose she explained, ‘Maudie Carter – Orson’s granny – is one of my dearest friends.’
‘She’s just fine, thank you, Mrs Simmons. Well, that is, she’s much better since they stopped the chemotherapy. The doctors seem to be pleased with her progress.’
‘That is good news. And the rest of your family?’
‘We’re all doing just fine, thank you.’
‘Now, I hope you’ll stop for a glass of something cold to drink?’
‘Thank you, but I really can’t stay. I have another delivery, and then my daddy wants me to check back with him in case there’s more. There usually are, on a Saturday.’
‘Oh, what a shame.’ Gran pouted her lips. ‘I thought it would be so nice for Rose to have another young person to visit with. I know how bored she gets by herself out here, with only me for company – she was just saying there was nothing to do. When I saw you, I thought you were the answer to her prayers!’
‘I can’t believe I’m the answer to anybody’s prayers,’ Orson drawled, ‘but, Rose, if you really don’t have anything better to do, you’re welcome to come along with me while I make this next delivery. I have to swing on past here on my way back to the store, so I could drop you off in the afternoon.’
Rose could hardly believe her ears. He did like her. He must. He had noticed her, and felt the same attraction for her that she felt for him. She was too overwhelmed to reply.
‘I realize it’s not much of an offer. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do. It’s just, I thought you might be interested since I’ve got to go over to –’
‘No,’ she said abruptly, terrified that she’d blown it. ‘I mean, yes, I would like to come. Can I? May I, please, Gran?’
Gran beamed graciously. Rose almost thought she saw a gleam of triumph there, as if her grandmother had actually planned the whole, magical sequence of events. ‘Why, of course,’ she purred. ‘You two youngsters go on out and enjoy yourselves. Don’t hurry back. I need to go out and run a few errands this afternoon, so take your key in case you get back before I do.’
*
As soon as he was alone with Rose in the cab of the van, Orson was seized by panic and guilt. What had he done? What had he been thinking of?
Olivia, of course. He was always thinking of Olivia, and sometimes the thought of her made him stupid – like just now. He had looked at Rose, and he had seen someone Olivia liked. They sat near each other in class, and he’d seen them together at lunch-time, too, sitting out under the trees on the lawn – Olivia, who nearly always left school at lunch-time, had stayed to be with her new friend.
‘Orson?’
He realized it was the second time she’d spoken, and he wrenched his attention from his turbulent thoughts, and briefly took his eyes from the road to look at her. Her brown eyes were shining. She had an open, intelligent, pretty face, almost heart-shaped, and her dark hair was in a short, glossy bob. He preferred blondes, of course, and he liked long hair on a girl, and ice-blue eyes, but even with Olivia as his model of perfection, he could see that Rose was attractive, too. He realized he’d never looked at her properly before, and his guilt grew heavier. He should have. He should have thought of her, instead of just concentrating on himself and his feelings for Olivia. The road demanded his attention, so he looked away. ‘Uh, what?’
‘I just asked where we’re going.’
‘Oh, yeah. I should have said. I should have told you first. Because it was why I asked you … well, no, I mean that wasn’t why, I wanted your company, of course …’ His hands were sweating. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. ‘I just meant it was why I thought you might like to come. Because of where we’re going, that is.’
‘But for some reason you don’t want to tell me where that is. Orson, if you turn out to be a deranged serial killer and you’re dragging me off to your backwoods slaughter house, I’ll never forgive you.’
The unexpectedness of it, and her ironic tone, made him laugh. ‘I’m not quite that bad.’
‘I hope not. So?’
He took a deep breath. ‘I have a delivery to make at Senator Mason’s house. Olivia’s house. Your grandmother said you were feeling lonely, and I know you’re Olivia’s friend—’
‘Did Olivia tell you that?’
‘Uh, no.’ He swallowed. ‘I just noticed. Anyway, I thought you might be glad of the chance to see her today. It’s hard, living out in the country when you can’t drive.’ Orson felt a little better. He’d almost convinced himself that he hadn’t been acting totally selfishly, acting on the impulsive thought that while Olivia would ignore a delivery boy, she might notice him if he turned up with her friend. She might even invite them in – she’d almost have to invite them both in. Maybe, inside her own house, she would finally really look at him, and like what she saw.
But maybe what she would think she was seeing was her new friend’s boyfriend. He could try to justify it or dress it up however he liked, but the truth was he was doing just what he’d told Farren he wouldn’t do, and using Rose.
‘Really,’ he said a little desperately. ‘I just thought you might like a chance to visit with your friend.’
Rose was silent for a while. Finally she said, ‘I’ve never been to Olivia’s house before.’
‘Really? Oh, well, it’s something to see. It’s really something to see.’
The Masons’ house, built on a hill a little way out of town, was a big white mansion which looked as if it might have belonged to some wealthy plantation owner in the prosperous days before the Civil War. In fact it was less than five years old. Orson told her some of this as they approached the house on its private road. Iron gates blocked their passage; Orson had to press a buzzer, then identify himself when a voice on the speaker-grill challenged him. ‘Delivery from Banks’ Feed and Lumber. I’m Orson Banks.’
‘Who’s that in the cab with you?’
He felt Rose’s start of surprise; the security camera was not very noticeable. ‘Rose Durcan. A friend of Olivia’s.’
‘Just a minute, I’m checking.’
‘Why so much security?’ asked Rose.
‘They have a lot of money. Mrs Mason’s a public figure.’ He shrugged. ‘Mr Mason is one of the wealthiest men in the country. Used to be he was just the senator’s husband, until his various ventures started paying off. Now they’re both rich and powerful, one of the richest families in the whole state. Situation like that, you have to be cautious.’
‘I thought it was her father who was the senator.’
‘Olivia didn’t say?’
Rose gave him a cool look. ‘I’ve only known her for a
few days. We haven’t had a chance to talk about absolutely everything yet.’
‘Sorry. Some things you take for granted everybody knows. Around here, the Ducketts are synonymous with state politics. Right from the beginning, they always had at least one son in the statehouse. The latest Mrs Duckett didn’t have any sons, but by the time her daughters were growing up, the women’s movement had come along and changed things. Since Olivia’s an only child, most people are expecting her to follow in her mother’s footsteps.’
‘You’re all right,’ said a voice right beside him. There was an electric humming, and the gates began to open. ‘You can drive on in.’
They went down a long, winding driveway which looped past the house to a large, barn-like structure. A couple of men were waiting, and they unloaded the van without requesting Orson’s help. One of them signed for the delivery, and it was all over in about a minute. Orson got back into the cab and looked at Rose.
‘Um, do you want to go up to the house and see Olivia?’
‘Isn’t that why I’m here?’
Orson flushed, feeling ashamed of himself again, started the van up and drove the short distance to the house in silence. He thought of staying in the truck while Rose went in to see Olivia on her own, thinking that might atone for his impure motives, but when he tried to suggest this, Rose looked as if he’d insulted her.
‘Am I supposed to be another delivery? Olivia didn’t order my company, so far as I’m aware. Come on, this was your idea; you don’t get off lurking in the van!’
So they walked up to the front door together. It was obvious to Orson that the vaguely familiar-looking young man who answered the door thought he wasn’t well-dressed enough to be there. ‘Deliveries to the barn,’ he said irritably. ‘Or else use the side entrance.’
‘I’m not a delivery,’ said Rose. ‘I’m here to see Olivia.’
‘She’s not expecting you,’ said the butler. Orson suddenly remembered who he was: Malcolm Watts, a past graduate of Livingston-Duckett High School. He’d gone away to college somewhere – and then he’d come back, Orson wasn’t sure why, but he thought he remembered a whiff of hushed-up scandal. Anyway, now Malcolm was supposed to be applying to other universities, while earning money as butler to the Masons. He’d got the job because his mother was related in some way to the Ducketts, and it was Olivia’s widowed grandmother, Sarah Duckett, who hired the servants as she ran the household.
