by Alice Ayden
I didn’t have the warm, fuzzy Christmas memories some others had, but I didn’t hate the holiday like Karenda.
At Ausmor, Christmas lasted from November 1 through January 15. Many of the staff sipped hot cocoa all day, wrapped themselves in mistletoe and got drunk on the Christmas fumes. Seeing presents under trees, listening to fires crackle and being warm inside when snow blanketed Virginia wasn’t the worst way to spend time.
The staff had everything prepared on November 1, but tourists liked to see holiday fiddling. So, trees would be moved a quarter of an inch, ornaments shifted and garland reknotted for show.
Around Christmas day, barring any unforeseen amuckments, Evan, Lillia, Mrs. Kiness and I exchanged gifts with staff who didn’t retreat home for the holidays. Karenda was always too busy. Byron normally went somewhere warm with someone else. I think the Stonstons crept back to hell for a sacrifice. Grand Maeve gifted herself a new male hostage she kept tethered in her room. And Aunt Bitty? What would she give? A box of chocolate covered phlegm?
I smiled and said my pleasantries to the staff who juggled tiny peppermint sticks and mouthfuls of hot cocoa while balancing oversized red hats that looked as if they crawled from a Dr. Seuss story. “Merry Christmas...happy holidays…it looks great…you’ve outdone yourself…” They smiled back and waited until I’d left to continue.
Don’t know why the family made them so nervous. Probably thought we’d turn homicidal any minute, and they needed to eye the nearest escape.
I spotted Alexander trying to unravel very aggressive garland choking the hand carved banister on the Grand Stairs. I instantly felt at ease, and then not so much. Damn Johnston. I thought of what he said about Alexander deserving to be in prison. I couldn’t force my legs to move. Anchored to the ground, I tried to act natural and not get his attention.
He spotted me anyway, smiled and started over. My stomach clenched, and my heart was about to jump out of my chest and race around the room. I had to calm my breathing. My face flushed, and I hoped I wouldn’t pass out or throw up. I couldn’t be another headliner in the Ausmor Staff Newsletter. It wasn’t made public, but I stole one issue a few years ago.
Karenda was featured prominently in the Knewsarenda column detailing who among the staff wished her dead and a contest about doing something vile to her without getting caught. Several ideas: replacing her normal toothpaste with something sticky, adding extra laxatives to her coffee or replacing her contact lens solution with battery acid. Karenda: well liked she wasn’t.
I was never sure if I made the list. From the weak smiles, downcast eyes and whispers, I think I was more the object of pity than ridicule. I thought of all this in the mere seconds it took for Alexander to saunter. My mind tended to flip and flop whenever I had to deal with something unpleasant. I wanted to flee as if I were about to choke on Aunt Bitty’s stink weed soup, but I still couldn’t move.
“Nice to see you,” Alexander said.
I nodded because I wasn’t sure if my voice would work.
He stepped back. “You alright?”
I nodded again and told myself not to listen to Johnston. It was Johnston. The man was a walking, talking pile of corrosive goo. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I acted. I never meant...should you be working?”
He shook his head as if it was nothing. “No worries. Been cleared by the doc.”
Byron walked in the front door and walked up to us. “Jane.” He quickly kissed my cheek and glanced at Alexander. “Do you mind?”
“Yes,” Alexander said but didn’t leave.
Byron waited and then sighed and turned his attention back to me. “You’re not ready.”
I frowned. Byron was suited in a tuxedo, but he was always suited in some expensive thing. “Oh! The party at Bashwells.” I couldn’t believe I had forgotten the Bashley’s annual pre-Christmas Christmas party. Most of Virginia, the southeast and many from England and Scotland spent all year planning what they’d wear, who they’d take, etc. It was like a high school reunion for the venomous narcissists intent on one upping each other.
“Yes,” Byron said, hastily. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
“Course not.” I lied. My heart didn’t lump, my throat wasn’t dry and scratchy, and I didn’t quease up. Did I dismiss Johnston’s words or did Byron make me forget? Why was it so much easier with Byron?
I looked at the staff whose work ethic suffered whenever Byron neared. What would normally take five minutes stretched into hours as glances and giggles merged. I wondered if Byron ever got used to it. Who was I kidding? Byron was born looking like that. Born into the money and the name.
He probably wouldn’t know how to react if it all stopped. He was blessed with superhuman looks and rich ancestors who didn’t squalor their fortunes. This made him one of the wealthiest bachelors on the east coast. That, coincidentally, made him extremely eligible and very popular. Strange.
I glanced quickly at Alexander whose expression changed from disturbed to concerned. He and Byron hated each other. That much I knew, but I couldn’t remember why. “It was Johnston.”
Alexander looked at me. “What?”
“He’s the one who attacked you.”
Alexander stared at Byron. “Are you sure?” His tone more than hinted he didn’t believe it.
“He told me when—”
“I’m sorry,” Byron interrupted. “He told you? You talked with him? With Johnston?” Byron could barely utter the name. “Why?”
I hesitated, but I was tired of hiding. Tired of secrets. “I was on my way downstairs because I was trying to find you…” I looked directly at Alexander and noticed Byron shift positions. “But someone grabbed me and threw me in Bitty’s storage room.”
“What?” Byron and Alexander asked in unison.
“Are you alright?” Alexander asked. “Did he hurt you?” He looked me over as if trying to decipher fresh wounds.
“I told him to stay away. I warned him.” Byron muttered.
I noticed Byron didn’t look directly at me. Wasn’t too concerned about my welfare – more irritated with his misplaced warning. Alexander, on the other hand, wouldn’t take his eyes off me. His beautiful eyes hinted at his concern. He couldn’t hide that. He didn’t even try to hide it from Byron.
“He said he wasn’t afraid of you.” I told Byron.
Byron’s eyes widened. “Really?” He stepped away, yanked his phone from his pocket and made a call.
Alexander gently grabbed my hand. “What did he do? What did he want?”
I couldn’t look at Alexander.
He sensed what I couldn't articulate.
I pulled my hand away. “He said some things about you too.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”
I didn’t know if I should repeat it. It was Johnston, after all. But a confession, much like a squeaky door, had to be attacked quickly. “He said you should be in prison.”
Alexander laughed and touched the back of his head. “Me?”
“Said something about what you did to some girl.”
Alexander’s crooked smile slowly dissipated, and he stared at me, through me. I’d never felt such coldness with anyone other than Johnston. Alexander instantly became a stranger.
Byron grabbed my arm and ushered me up the stairs. “I’ve taken care of it. He won’t be bothering you again.”
I peeked around and saw Alexander still studying me with that expression, and I was glad to be leaving. Sometimes, I wished I could turn my memory off on cue.
* * * *
Byron sat on my sofa and played with Fanny Dingo as I dressed in the bathroom. Loyal to me, Miss Dingo purred at Byron who could charm the stink out of a septic spill.
I pulled on a dark blue shiny, crinkly ballgown Mrs. Kiness had laid out for me. I looked at myself in the mirror and applied an extra layer of blush, lipstick and shiny, metallic eyeshadow. It was like playing a part. Dress up. Byron boosted my ego. The hanger-ons would dangle around hi
m and hope and pray for just a glimpse in their direction as he smiled at me, danced with me, kissed me. It made me the envy and hatred of others.
I stepped out of the bathroom, and Byron jumped up.
“You look beautiful,” he said, but his eyes already found his watch. He played the part, but his heart wasn’t in it. He used to be the love of my life. I sensed jealousy when Alexander was around because all attention was supposed to be directed at Byron, but I didn’t sense genuine anxiety or worry.
I took a deep breath and told myself not to parse. Not to define or analyze. I was on the arm of Byron Bashley - the envy of everyone. Then why did my thoughts retreat to Alexander?
21 Alexander
I followed Jane. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t let him alone with her. Had to protect her. Why did she still fall for Byron’s act? I had to keep reminding myself she didn’t know him like I did. Didn’t remember what he did that night. And I couldn’t be the one to tell her. She’d have to remember on her own.
Never knew why people liked Bashwells. 250 acres of cold stone, timid trees and greedy bastards. Standing in the sculpted bushes, I stared in the twenty foot tall windows - a bitch to clean as I remember. Hated being back. Looked exactly the same.
Covil Bashley never allowed holidays. Byron followed in his father’s footsteps. I hadn’t changed – still looking in like I used to do as a kid. The servants’ children were never allowed in the house during one of the parties. Afraid we’d mess with the delicate gold threaded doilies or piss on the Italian rugs.
I used to wait for Jane outside. She’d slip out whenever she had enough of the bullshit and was free of the prying eyes and whispers and jealousies. Why everyone wanted to either be or be with Byron I would never understand.
I didn’t have to worry about being seen. Being the son of a maid and gardener, invisibility was a birthright around the rich. Look at all of them. Hundreds of fake smiles and faker laughs. Shiny dresses and tuxedos. The rich hoping to get richer.
Jane and I used to make fun of them when we were kids. We had to hide from my mother though. Born into this world, she became a maid out of circumstance but never lost her respect for the upper-class.
“There she is.” I didn’t pay attention to Jane holding onto Byron. I could see her boredom. Her smile might indicate that she’s completely enthralled with whatever Senator such and such is spewing along with his gum chewing arm candy, but Jane’s slight glances around the room meant she was planning her escape.
Luckily, I knew all the secret entrances. I made my way into the kitchen around chain smoking maids and bored chauffeurs and waited in the small dining room no one ever used. I pushed the revolving door open a slit until I spotted Jane.
The Bashleys still had their servants dress the part. All white and black and curtseying to Byron and his guests and bullshit. I only did that once when my mother demanded it. After that, I made sure to keep busy doing something else. Bow to that man? Never.
I pushed the door open wider, waited until Byron looked around hoping to entrap more followers and waved my arm. Jane saw me. Her eyes widened, and then she smiled. She whispered to Byron and slipped away. That bastard didn’t even look to see where she was going. Narcissistic prick.
I held the door open to Jane as she slipped into the dining room.
“Thanks for the save. My god the rich are dull.”
I nodded.
22 Jane
I hugged Alexander. He was taken back at first but held onto me.
“You saved me from the dullest of the dull.” The parties were all the same. Damn, Alexander looked good. My hesitation from before vanished. Maybe it was just nerves or the high octane punch. I asked for the meek punch, but I think the waiter was too busy virtually undressing Byron that he handed me the extra juiced one.
“You wanna get out of here?”
I did. More than anything. So much smiling made my jaw ache, but I shouldn’t abandon Byron. But maybe Byron was habit. Maybe he was my past. We weren’t together. I had to take a chance. My blood surged. Part of me told myself to do it. Do it before I lost my nerve. “Let’s go.”
I really wasn’t sure that I actually said the words out loud until Alexander smiled and took my hand.
I didn’t regret it. I didn’t want to take the words back. I should have done it a long time ago. Byron was my past. Alexander’s hand in mine felt right. Meant to be. I followed him through the dining room and kitchen and out the back door.
At the side of Bashwells, Byron stopped us. “Why are you leaving with him?”
Alexander stepped forward.
Byron ignored him. “I’m not addressing you.”
“You’re not addressing me? Are you serious?” Alexander squeezed my hand and started to walk past Byron.
Byron stepped in front of us. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”
“Did you ask her?” Alexander looked at me. “Cause she said she wanted to leave.”
Byron stared at me. “You’re not going to do this again. Not with him. You’re not going to embarrass me with some common slut’s son.”
Alexander let go of my hand and lunged at Byron. Unfortunately, Byron wasn’t alone. He’d brought his security. As big as refrigerators, they didn’t even allow Alexander to get within three feet of Byron. They pushed Alexander to the ground. He landed in a pile of slush.
“Byron, stop this,” I said, knowing he’d never refuse me.
Byron coldly looked at me. “Take Miss Austen back to the party.”
More minions moved around Byron and grabbed me. “Let go of me.”
Alexander jumped up. “Get your hands off her!”
Two men grabbed Alexander as another punched him in the stomach.
“Byron! Please don’t hurt him.”
Byron motioned for his goons to take me away like I was a wadded up napkin. They continued to hit Alexander, and Byron smiled at me. “Don’t worry, Jane. You won’t even remember this.”
23 Jane
I woke up slowly and didn’t know where I was for a minute. The alien mobile above my bed swayed. Byron sat on the bed beside me holding Fanny Dingo.
“Byron? What are you doing in…” I looked down. It wasn’t morning. I still wore the Bashwells party gown. Images focused. “Alexander?” I tried to get up, but Byron stopped me.
“Just relax. Everything’s fine.”
The images sped up. Alexander and I at the party. Byron’s minions. One of them hit Alexander. They took me back to the party. That’s all I could remember. “Where’s Alexander?”
“He’s fine,” Byron said as he pushed my hair back out of my face. “Everything’s fine. Don’t waste your worry on him.”
“Why do you hate him?”
Byron didn’t say anything. He stared at me with a coldness that made me uneasy.
My first love. The one I trusted with all…most of my secrets. I used to trust him more. “You said I wouldn’t remember.”
This affected him. He blinked faster. He glanced around as if waiting to find a handy explanation lying about. “Everything’s fine.”
I pushed his hand away from me. “Stop saying that.” I lunged out of bed and reached for the door.
He stepped in front of me. “It’s okay. Everything’s fine. You need to rest.”
I turned around and walked to the bathroom door. It was Jack n’ Jill, so I could escape through to Karenda’s room.
But he beat me to that by jumping over my bed and blocking the escape.
“What are you doing?”
“Jane.” He raised his hands as if to surrender.
I looked at Fanny Dingo who busied herself with yet another new toy. Drama didn’t impress my cat. I relaxed a bit since she could sense danger better than I could.
“I had to do it.”
“What?”
“I won’t allow you to get involved with that servant.” Byron was nervous which wasn’t like him. “Just trust me on this.”
“And who is it that ha
s me trapped in my room? Who is it that had his goons do god knows what with Alexander? Who dragged me away like I was some misbehaving child?”
“You can’t embarrass me like that. You have to grow up, Jane. Your actions have consequences for the Austens and Morgans.”
I laughed. “That’s rich. My actions? How many girls have you slutted it up with? Did you for once think how that affected me?”
Byron’s face reddened, but I could tell it was from embarrassment rather than anger. He looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” He threw himself on the sofa. “He swore that’s what would happen.”
I didn’t go to him. That was the usual arrangement. He pissed me off; I threw a hissy. He acted contrite; I forgot everything.
He glanced up at me every now and then waiting for me to comply. I kept my distance. I could have lunged for the door, but I wanted to see how far he’d go. When we were kids, we could talk. Really talk. We knew each other better than anyone else did. With the end of childhood came the end of truth. I rarely glimpsed his true self anymore.
“Our families always wanted us to get together…” He sighed. “You know that. It is expected. Meant to be.”
I shifted positions. It had always been what I wanted. What I planned. Until recently.
“Everyone except my father…” he could barely spit out the words as the memories stewed. “He hated me. He knew I’d hurt you. He thought you were this precious…” Byron didn’t continue.
“I remember.” Covil Bashley was as warm as a corpse frozen in a thousand year old ice chunk. For some reason, he tolerated me. I never knew why. I suspected it was something to do with my mother - sympathy for what happened to her when I was six. I don’t know. Or maybe Grand Maeve. I shuddered. I couldn’t think of Grand Maeve with Byron’s father. Surely there were a few men missing from her bucket list.
“He knew how I felt about you,” Byron glanced around as if he wanted to ensure he wouldn’t be held accountable for anything confessed. “But he hated me. Told me that on a daily basis.”
