Love On-Line

by Lisa Tuttle

  ‘I’m sure she’ll want to see me,’ said Rose. Orson thought he detected the faintest quaver of uncertainty in her voice, and he felt for her. ‘Just tell her Rose Durcan is here.’

  Malcolm smiled unpleasantly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss Durcan. Miss Olivia is out.’

  Rose’s shoulders dropped. ‘Oh. Well, tell her we called, would you?’

  Not a good omen, thought Orson. He felt superstitiously that because he hadn’t seen Olivia today – and, worse, because he’d tried to trick his way into her good favour – he was probably going to lose the duel with the CyberQueen. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered to Rose.

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault she’s not in. Anyway, it was interesting to see her house, and I was just bored hanging around at home, so I’m glad you asked me along.’

  Rose’s niceness made him feel worse. If she knew the truth she would hate him, he thought. It would be better if she did hate him. He could hardly bear to speak to her during the whole long drive back to her house.

  *

  After the fight with the CyberQueen, which he lost just about as ignominiously as he’d expected, Count Orsini rested in the shade of a large oak tree on the village common while Roberto rubbed a salve into his bruised limbs. After Roberto had flatly refused to accompany her into one of the private rooms at the inn, or anywhere else for that matter, the CyberQueen had huffily turned back into a dragon and flown away.

  ‘You’d better watch out,’ said Count Orsini with a smile. ‘He’ll challenge you to a duel next.’

  ‘I’m not bothered,’ said Roberto. ‘I’ll just be sure the choice of weapons is mine. And I already know she can’t resist my magic flute.’

  Count Orsini tentatively stretched his limbs and winced. ‘Ooof. I really thought he was going to break my leg … or my sword arm, if he was feeling really cruel.’

  Roberto cocked his head, eyeing Count Orsini thoughtfully. ‘Do you realize that’s the third time you’ve referred to the CyberQueen as “he”? Can’t your masculine pride accept that you were beaten by a woman?’

  ‘The CyberQueen is no woman – that’s just what he wants you to think. His gender is obvious. I’ve met guys like him before. They get some kind of sick thrill out of pretending to be female.’

  ‘But how do you know the CyberQueen is one of them? How can you be sure?’

  ‘I can’t be sure, of course, but there are clues, signs you learn to notice when you’ve been around for a while, as I have. I’d had my suspicions about the CyberQueen, but when “she” started coming on to you in that obvious way, something clicked. I knew she couldn’t be for real.’

  ‘If you’re implying that a real woman wouldn’t find me attractive I may have to challenge you to a duel myself!’ said Roberto, throwing down the cloth with which he’d been tending to Orsini, and drawing himself up to his full height.

  ‘Calm yourself, my friend. Of course I don’t mean that! A real girl would have approached you differently. A real girl – at least, if she were one of our Georgia peaches, one of our fine Southern ladies – would never have been so crude and obvious in letting you know she found you attractive. And, I’m willing to bet, if you’re half the man I think you are, you wouldn’t have found a real girl so easy to resist.’

  ‘She’s not my type,’ said Roberto.

  ‘I’m with you there, my friend. Tell me, what do you like in a woman? What’s your type?’

  A cloud moved across the sun. There was a coolness in the air. Roberto glanced over his shoulder, his skin prickling. He could see no one, yet he sensed they were no longer alone. Reading his thoughts, Count Orsini agreed. ‘She’s just the sort to try a trick like that, ghosting around in the hope of overhearing something useful.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. It’s as likely to be someone new.’

  Count Orsini rose, a bit stiffly, from the ground. Roberto rushed to help, but Orsini held up a hand to forestall him. ‘I can manage. I’m slow, but I’ll get there.’ He looked around and called out a challenge to the empty air.

  ‘Show yourself, or be known as a coward!’

  They waited, but there was no reply. Count Orsini shook his head in disgust and then whispered low to Roberto: (‘Come back to my castle with me. There’s a quiet room there where we can talk together unobserved.’)

  7 The Granny Mafia and Others

  Rose was surprised, when she answered the door on Sunday afternoon, to find Olivia standing there.

  ‘Next time you decide to drop in on me you should phone first, then maybe I’ll be there,’ said Olivia, stern-faced.

  ‘I see you like to take your own advice.’

  Olivia wrinkled her perfect nose. ‘I’m expected, Miss Durcan, even if not by you. I’ve come to pick up Mrs Simmons. Would you be so kind as to tell her that her chauffeur has arrived?’

  Gran came through the doorway, high heels tapping briskly on the wooden floor, all dressed up to go visiting.

  ‘Hello, Olivia, I thought that was you! I’m all ready to go. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.’

  ‘That’s all right, Mrs Simmons. We have plenty of time. You look very nice.’

  ‘Thank you, dear.’

  Olivia looked at Rose. ‘You want to come?’ She made a pleading face.

  ‘Come where? For what?’

  ‘To keep me company. So I don’t get sucked into attending the Granny Mafia. If there’s two of us we can escape up to my room together.’

  ‘Oh, do come, Rose,’ said Gran. ‘It would be nice for both of you, and I’d certainly feel better knowing you’re not going to be shut away in your room by yourself, working all day.’

  Rose had implied to her grandmother that she’d be spending the afternoon on schoolwork; in fact, she reckoned that an hour would see her clear to make another trip to Illyria. She was half hoping for, half dreading another encounter with Count Orsini. She loved being with him, and after only a few meetings they’d become warm friends, but this friendship was a perilous business. A game of pretend was OK, but she didn’t want to lie to him. Yet after learning of his contempt for people who pretended to a gender they didn’t possess, she just couldn’t confess the truth about herself.

  ‘I do hope this wasn’t too much trouble for you, coming all this way out here to get me, Livy,’ said Gran. ‘I have to get the muffler on my car changed next week, but I’m sure I could have made the trip without getting picked up by the police or anything.’

  ‘Oh, no, ma’am. I love any excuse to get out in my car. Nanny would have sent Malcolm over with her car if I hadn’t begged her to let me. Let him do the flower arranging.’

  ‘That’s right; I’d heard she’d got Malcolm Watts working for her.’

  ‘I don’t think he much likes being a servant. I think he’s still hoping my daddy will give him a better job.’

  ‘I understand his family is hoping he’ll go back to college. Do you know why he left? I thought he’d won a scholarship. I believe his SAT scores were very high.’

  Olivia shrugged. ‘He’s smart enough. I think the problem is, he doesn’t want to work at it. The rumour I heard was that he got kicked out for cheating.’

  Gran sighed. ‘Well, I’d certainly hate to believe such a thing about any of Lou-Ann’s grandchildren. But whatever he did, I’m sure it was a youthful indiscretion, and I hope he gets a second chance.’

  Malcolm opened the door to them when they arrived, just as Olivia was reaching out to open it herself. There was something faintly creepy about it, as if he’d been listening for their approach.

  ‘Ah, good afternoon, Mrs Simmons. Miss Olivia.’ He bobbed slightly as he spoke, as if just stopping himself from bowing. ‘And … who shall I say?’ He looked at Rose, blankly.

  ‘This is Rose Durcan,’ Olivia said sweetly. ‘You might recall you met her very briefly yesterday. Anyway, she’s with me; you don’t have to announce her. Take Mrs Simmons in to my grandmother, if you please, and tell her that we’ll come in and say our how-d’ye-
dos later.’ Olivia gripped Rose’s upper arm and began to steer her past Malcolm, towards a grand staircase.

  ‘You have visitors, Miss Olivia. They’re waiting for you on the terrace.’

  ‘What visitors?’

  After a moment, as if he’d had to search his memory, he said slowly, ‘Your cousin Toby … and … another gentleman.’

  Olivia sighed. ‘I’ll bet. Come on, Rose, here’s an unexpected treat for you.’

  ‘Shall I bring out some drinks, Miss Olivia?’

  Olivia stopped and turned and looked at him, widening her eyes. ‘You mean, they don’t have drinks already? Why, Malcolm, how long have they been waiting?’

  ‘Only a few minutes, Miss Olivia. When I inquired, they said they wouldn’t require anything. Uh, the young gentlemen did have a cooler with them.’

  ‘Of course they did.’ Olivia sighed. ‘A pitcher of lemonade for us, please, Jeeves. I mean Malcolm.’ As they walked away together she muttered to Rose, ‘Young gentlemen indeed! Honestly. They’re no younger than him. And did you catch that accent? He’s been watching too much Jeeves and Wooster.’

  The terrace turned out to be a paved and shaded area behind the house, overlooking a full-size swimming pool. Two young men, casually dressed – one very fat and the other not – sat at one of the tables, drinking from sweating cans of beer. As the girls approached, the slimmer of the two boys lurched to his feet, nearly overturning the table. The fat boy managed to save both the beers without any obvious exertion. He beamed pleasantly up at the girls.

  ‘Hello, Cousin Olivia. Would you like a beer? There’s more in the cooler.’

  ‘Settled in for a long afternoon?’ Olivia asked. ‘Rose, this is my cousin Toby, and his friend, Wayne Toogood. My friend, Rose Durcan.’

  ‘Toogood to be true, his friends all call him,’ Toby interjected. ‘But he is, he is, indeed.’ He heaved himself to his feet, panting slightly. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rose, it is indeed. I hope you ladies will pardon me for not getting to my feet earlier, but I was concerned for the fate of our liquid refreshment.’

  ‘That’s all right, Toby,’ Olivia said, pulling out a chair and sitting down, gesturing for Rose to do the same. ‘You don’t have to put on your dancing school manners here.’

  ‘Just at the dance, then,’ he said, seating himself again with a sigh of relief. ‘I certainly would be most honoured if I had the chance to stand up with you at the dance. Or you, Miss Rose. As, I am sure, would Wayne. What do you say to that, Wayne?’

  ‘Eh? Oh, ditto,’ said the thinner boy hastily. ‘Ditto, ditto.’ He gulped the rest of his beer.

  ‘Have you decided who is to be your lucky partner this year?’ Toby stared, beady-eyed, at his cousin who looked bored.

  ‘It’s not going to be you, Tobes, I can tell you that much for sure.’

  ‘Oh! I’m wounded, cut to the quick,’ he drawled. ‘Never mind. I’m not much of a dancer, as you know. And I am always ready to bow to the better man … so who is he?’

  ‘Toby, the dance is two and a half months from now. The invitations haven’t been printed. And I haven’t decided who I’m going to invite.’

  Rose was taken aback when Toby suddenly addressed her. ‘What about you, Miss Rose? Have you found yourself a partner? If not, please allow me to recommend my good friend, Wayne. He’s a very fine dancer, or he will be after a few lessons. A part-time student at Livingston Junior College and an employee at the County Line Kwik Stop and Gas Station, he is, as you can see for yourself, a good-looking young man.’

  Wayne belched self-consciously and stared up at the blue sky.

  ‘Toby, leave my friend alone.’

  ‘You wound me, dear cousin. I was merely attempting to entertain, making conversation …’

  ‘One-sided, as usual.’

  ‘It’s not easy, having to do all the work. It’s not fair I should be blamed for it. I did ask the girl a question.’ He scowled rather primly at Rose. ‘To repeat: have you a partner for the dance?’

  ‘I don’t know what dance you’re talking about,’ said Rose.

  ‘What dance … Is there any other? The Midwinter Ball, of course. The social event of the year in Locust County. It’s what the Granny Mafia inside is planning right now. Well, it keeps them out of trouble.’

  ‘It’s to raise money for charity,’ Olivia said. ‘It’s held out at Twin Oaks Plantation, and it’s a very formal, old-fashioned affair. By tradition, it’s the ladies who buy the tickets and then invite the gentleman of their choice to escort them.’

  ‘And also by tradition,’ said Toby, ‘Olivia invites one of her cousins to be her escort, but that cousin is never me. However, this will be the third year since she started attending the ball – maybe third time lucky?’ He fluttered his lashes and gave an engagingly silly smile. Rose couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘I have a lot of cousins,’ said Olivia laconically. ‘I doubt I’ll have worked my way through ’em all before I’m twenty-one.’ She spoke to Rose. ‘If you like, I could fix you up with one of the nicer ones.’

  ‘I probably won’t go,’ said Rose.

  ‘And break your granny’s heart? Of course you’ll go! But I’m being as bad as Toby, trying to fix you up when you’ll have your own ideas about who you want to invite.’

  There was the sound of a door opening, and Rose looked around, eager for distraction in case Olivia was intending to ask her to name names.

  A little old lady was coming towards them. She had blue hair, wore pearls and a pale peach-coloured silk dress, and she looked about four foot tall.

  ‘Hello, Nanny,’ said Olivia as they all stood up.

  Looking like a dwarf surrounded by giants, the old lady flapped her hands at them. ‘Sit down, sit down,’ she commanded in a surprisingly deep voice. ‘This isn’t a parade inspection. Livy, will you introduce me to your friend?’

  ‘Nanny, this is Rose Durcan. Rose, this is my grandmother, Sarah Duckett, of local legend.’

  ‘How-de-do, Rose. I feel like I already know you. Your proud grandmother has shown me pictures of you, and your brother, for every year of your lives. Still, it’s nice to finally see you in the flesh.’ She looked at the two young men lounging rather uncomfortably now in their chairs, and said, ‘I hope you boys will excuse me if we leave you. We have business indoors.’ She winked, and her voice lowered to a husky whisper, ‘Girl talk.’

  Rose and Olivia were spirited away. They met Malcolm coming out with a pitcher of lemonade and Mrs Duckett flapped her hand at him. ‘Take that to the parlour. The girls are with me.’ She hung back as they entered the house to give Olivia a sideways glance. ‘I don’t suppose you minded being stolen away from your admirers?’

  ‘Oh, please!’

  ‘Toby’s not a bad boy. He’ll be better when he figures out what he wants to do with his life.’

  ‘The sooner he gets over his matchmaker phase, the better. He’s got this idea that sooner or later I’ll go for one of his low-life friends … I wish he’d just give up. I mean, what’s it to him if I never have a boyfriend? For that matter, what would he get out of it if I did fall for somebody he introduced me to?’

  Her grandmother chuckled. ‘Well, Livy, you’re a challenge. For some people that’s all that matters.’

  Ahead of them, Malcolm pushed open a door and then stepped back to allow them past. It was a large, sunny room with lots of windows and soft pastel furnishings. Seated there were half a dozen well-dressed elderly women sipping fragrant tea from delicate porcelain cups and talking among themselves in a low, well-modulated hum. Rose was reminded of a lot of contented bumble-bees in a sunny, scented flower garden. So this was the famous Granny Mafia.

  Introductions were made, and Rose nodded and smiled and murmured politely without retaining any of the names. They all knew who she was, and each one had something to say about her size, her age, her resemblance to her dear mother. As usual she struggled to respond intelligently to questions about what she thought of
America, Georgia, Locust County, and Duckett Green, realizing too late that meaningless polite enthusiasm was all that was required of her.

  Plates of cakes and cookies were handed around, and a choice of tea or lemonade was offered. Rose felt herself sinking into a dull stupor. Finally, Olivia stood up. ‘Rose and I will let you get on with your meeting. You don’t need us here.’

  ‘Now, Livy, you know we’d love to have you join us – both of you. We like to try to keep up with the times and know what young people think.’

  Olivia grinned wickedly. ‘You don’t mean you still want more? After I dragged you kicking and screaming into the modern world?’

  Mrs Duckett looked at Rose and explained: ‘Olivia set up a computer program for us, so now the guest list and all the other information will be computerized. Much more efficient, I’m sure.’

  ‘You’re not sure at all,’ Olivia teased. ‘And you don’t want to get too modern, now, do you? Because if you do, I could suggest some bands who play the kind of music young people actually like to dance to …’

  Mrs Duckett shuddered. ‘The Midwinter Ball is not a disco. We have traditions to uphold …’

  ‘Of course you do, and you’ll do it better without us. Come on, Rosy.’

  ‘It was nice meeting you all,’ Rose said politely, and gladly let Olivia pull her through the door. They ran together through the house, up the grand staircase, along a corridor, and into another large, sunny room. Olivia shut the door behind them and leaned against it as if to keep out pursuing hordes.

  Rose looked around. Well-filled bookshelves lined one wall, and there were framed paintings hung on the others. There was a couch, a comfortable-looking leather chair beneath a reading lamp, and two large desks. The narrow bed tucked away in a corner looked like an afterthought. The room seemed more like a comfortable office than anyone’s bedroom.