“Sylvie,” I chastise, following her out of my dorm room. “I hate when you talk like that.”
“Oh, when I speak the truth? Spencer doesn’t like it either,” she says nonchalantly.
We exit the building, the cold air like a slap to the face. I’m trembling, even in my thick coat, as we approach a sleek black Lincoln town car waiting for us in the parking lot, the trunk lid up, the driver standing beside it.
He rushes toward me, one arm reaching out. “Let me take that for you, miss.”
I let him have my duffel, sending Sylvie a meaningful look once he walks away. She skips alongside me, laughing.
“Being rich has its advantages,” she says. “Like servants at your beck and call and a private driver to take you to your destinations.”
My throat suddenly feels like it could close up. “Is Whit joining us?”
“Oh no. He would never. Once he got his license, he drives himself to our family gatherings. Always.”
Thank God. I don’t think I could sit with him in the car for any amount of time while Sylvie is with us. I’d either jump him or scratch his eyes out.
“Why don’t you ride with him?” I ask as I follow her into the back seat of the car. The driver shuts the door and then settles into the driver’s seat, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the parking lot.
“Mother won’t let him. He’s too reckless, she says. Afraid he’ll wrap one of his cars around a tree with me in it and I’ll die instantly.” More laughter, though it’s tinged with sadness. “She’s so ironic.”
I don’t quite know what she’s referring to, and I’m almost afraid to ask.
So I don’t.
We make small talk the entirety of the drive. It’s slow going, the roadways clogged with people trying to make their escape just like we are. I can’t stop looking out the window and marveling at all the traffic.
“If we would’ve waited any longer, the traffic only gets worse. Next week will be an absolute nightmare,” Sylvie says.
“What are the plans for tonight?” I worry I didn’t bring a fancy enough outfit for dinner, especially considering Sylvie’s reaction to my lack of luggage.
“The restaurant we’re going to is very expensive,” Sylvie drawls. “But don’t worry. It’s also very casual. Outdoor seating. Firepits we can sit by and keep warm. Plenty of alcohol and appetizers to die for.”
“Alcohol?” I ask, my voice weak.
“Daddy always manages to sneak me a few sips.” She laughs. “I used to never drink, you know? Whit still believes I’m a good girl, but lately I’ve been allowing myself to indulge in…things. Specifically ones that aren’t good for me.”
I think of myself at fourteen, sneaking sips out of discarded champagne glasses like a little beggar. What must’ve the rich and snobbish Whit Lancaster thought of me? God, I was pitiful. Thinking I was so old in my tacky, strapless dress I wore as a bridesmaid at my cousin’s wedding the year before. My boobs had grown since then, and that’s why they were practically spilling out of my dress.
The memory has become painful. He saw me as a pitiful girl, I’m sure. One he could swiftly take advantage of, which he did.
“My parents are excited to meet you,” Sylvie continues. “I told them all about you.”
“All about me?” I feel like I’m walking into a trap. After all, I’m the idiot whose mother slept with Sylvie’s father and essentially broke up their marriage.
What if her mother blames me for that, like Whit used to? I’m screwed.
“They know who you are, especially my father,” Sylvie says. “Mother had a few choice words to say, but don’t worry. She would never be anything but polite to you in front of everyone. ‘To be rude is unseemly,’ direct quote.”
I press my forehead against the window pane, closing my eyes. I’m so stupid. Why would I do this to myself? I’m walking into a lion’s den, and every single one of them will be hungry. Eager to take a bite out of me. And Sylvie is useless protection. I adore her, but she won’t be strong enough to stave off her parents.
And especially not Whit.
As if I’ll push him away though. He’s my weakness too.
After a little over an hour on the road, we finally turn in front of double ornate black iron gates. Within seconds, they part, allowing us entry, and an endless stretch of black pavement curves through the green as far as the eye can see. I gawk out the window like a little girl, my face pressed against the glass, watching as we drive past gorgeous landscape. Lush green grass and giant trees barren of leaves, thanks to the recent turn in the weather. Towering green bushes appear as we make our way, lining the driveway on either side, and I know we must be getting close.
The driveway widens, and then it appears. The Lancaster mansion towers in the near distance, two, no three stories made of stone and marble, four massive pillars at the entrance, an endless amount of windows on either side. It’s imposing, reminding me of one of those grand castles we saw when we went to England a few years ago for a family vacation. Before Jonas and Yates died.
It actually reminds me of Buckingham Palace, which is to say, it’s mightily impressive.
“Like I mentioned before, we normally only come here for the summer,” Sylvie explains as the car curves along the roundabout, the house drawing nearer. “But Mother and Daddy prefer to use this house for our family Thanksgiving while we’re at Lancaster Prep. So much closer for us to travel.”
“You spend your summers here?” I ask weakly, my gaze trailing over the ornate front of the house. Angel statues stare down upon us, their beautiful faces forever caught in wonder, with their chubby cheeks and rosebud lips.
“Yes. Well, we used to, when I was younger. All of us would be here. Even Carolina, though she struggles throughout the season when she can’t dance every single day. Mother turned one of the smaller ballrooms into a dance studio for her, and she spends pretty much the entire summer there. Waking up first thing in the morning, dancing and leaping and wearing herself out until she’s a boneless heap of exhaustion,” Sylvie explains. “Her dedication is mind-boggling. I can barely keep up with her after thirty minutes, and I used to dance too, before I became so sick all of the time. I just know she’ll be a famous dancer someday.”
Her family is so incredibly interesting, where mine has horrible secrets and deep shame, all of it locked up tight.
Well, not all of it, thanks to Whit getting his hands on my diary.
The Lancaster family seems so perfect. Beautiful. Yes, Augustus cheated with my mother and ended up getting a divorce, but that isn’t so out of the norm.
I’m sure their family doesn’t have as many dirty secrets as mine.
The moment the car stops in front of the house, Sylvie leaps out of it and starts pacing, stretching her legs. I follow suit, unable to stop from staring at the house. The massive front door slowly swings open and two women dressed all in black come out to greet us, taking our luggage and rushing back into the house.
“You’ll have a guest room all to yourself.” Sylvie laughs as I watch the servants scurry inside. “No pull-out couch or anything like that.”
“How many rooms are in this place?” I ask as we make our way up the stone steps.