I know all of you are intelligent. Regardless, I feel the need to insert a disclaimer: certain views and ideas expressed by characters in this chapter are not representative of my own views or beliefs. They are period typical and/or in opposition of the values held by the protagonists.
Thank you again for leaving such sweet reviews. I'm honestly so overwhelmed by the response to this story! And yes, keeping these characters apart is killing me too.
'The soul of man, like unextinguished fire,
Yet burns towards heaven with fierce reproach, and doubt,
And lamentation, and reluctant prayer,
Hurling up insurrection, which might make
Our antique empire insecure, though built
On eldest faith, and hell's coeval, fear; '
~ Prometheus Unbound, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Act III (1820)
Chapter thirty-four - Stars, hide your fires, part II
"I am honoured to make your acquaintance at last, Miss Murray," the large man by the fireplace stepped forwards out of the rusty haze of the firelight to grasp her hand in a firm, business style handshake. "You are every bit as pretty as your Mother."
"Thank you, Mr Andrews," she replied graciously, "it's a pleasure to meet you at last." Her eyes flickered between the Father and son, noting the similarities in height and facial features. Despite the wrinkles and bushy salt and pepper moustache that differentiated the two it was like looking at Fraser's future. With a change in attitude, he was on track to follow in his Father's footsteps. The thought was paralysing.
"Call me John, please. No need for such formalities around old family friends," Fraser's father insisted, ignoring his son who had slipped past Kathleen to enter the room.
"Drinks?" Asked Mr Nolan, closing the door.
"Bourbon for me, thanks," answered Fraser without hesitation.
"And red for you, Kathleen?" Her Grandfather opened a bottle set a few inches away from the others on the drinks trolley. "A mature red was always Cordelia's favourite. Yet, my late wife had a taste for champagne."
Mr Andrews let out a bellowing laugh, almost spilling his drink in his haste to place it safely down on the end table. "Edith Nolan was quite a woman, her dinner parties remain incomparable. Gone are the golden days, Gale. My Father was right when he said the crash was the point of no return. You would remember it better than I do."
"Your Father was never wrong, John. Without him at the table, I would never dare play a hand or take a chance," Gale Nolan handed the youths their drinks, keeping an eye on the gilded clock that stood proudly on the mantlepiece. "I more than tripled my fortune in the twenties with your Father by my side. It was also his instincts that saved us both in twenty-nine."*
"And I thank God every day for it." Nolan nodded in agreement. "It's about time the young ones met," boomed John, "it's such a shame the old crowd divided. Business hasn't been the same since."
Kathleen sipped her wine, ignoring the knowing look Fraser sent her way. She lowered the glass in defiance; in the same moment he swallowed half the contents of his.
"It has become an era of change," Nolan responded, his tone hard. "Schools like Welton are a sanctuary for the old times, a cornerstone of tradition."
"Well said," applauded John Andrews, pausing to sniff the air. "Is that dinner? It smells excellent."
Nolan moved to the dark, wood door left ajar on the far right of the room. His movements were not as fluid as John remembered from the social occasions enjoyed throughout his youth. The once handsome, yachting, hard-headed business man now moved like a weathered, grey machine.
"Right on time," her Grandfather's calcified smile gleamed in the low, firelight. "Only the best for this institution," he ushered the guests through, "if I would not allow it in my home, I will not allow it in this school. The kitchen staff are no exception."
Kathleen withheld a gasp as she crossed the threshold. The dining room was just as she remembered, but somehow, it felt more imposing despite her maturity in both age and height since she had last visited. The wooden panels now met the rich, red, wallpaper at hip height, rather than head. Candelabras still cast the same golden glow over the large oval table, reflecting off the silverware and glistening as it fell on the cut-glass bowls, jugs, and drinking vessels. Most prominent, were the paintings which dominated the walls. Each past headmaster was immortalised in the identical, dark wooden frames which lined the room. One day, Kat realised, the portrait in her grandfather's office would hang alongside them.
And his office would be occupied by a stranger.
Casting the morbid thoughts from her mind, she sunk into the chair pulled out for her by the hired waiter. At least, she assumed the young man was hired, since she did not recognise him as one of the kitchen staff or groundskeepers.
"Thank you" she said quietly. He bowed his head and stepped back to fetch the dishes from the heaters located on the sideboard. Her eyes slid away from him and settled on the full wine glass in front of her. Much to her irritation, it looked just as appealing as Fraser had warned.
The waiter returned to the table with four, delicate bowls.
"Vegetable soup," announced Nolan, "all locally sourced, of course." He took a single mouthful before turning his attention back to his guests. "I must inquire about your recent trip to Washington, in particular the political scene?"
"Nixon is gearing up for the campaign and I've made my donation," John paused to taste the soup, nodding in approval. "Although, I think it's safe to assume it will be an easy win against Kennedy. He's too young, inexperienced, and idealistic. Perhaps the democrats would've been in with a chance if Johnson stepped up from running mate. The man deserves a shot at the presidency."
"A man of law, military, and political experience is what the country needs in the face of such change," Nolan agreed, "who could be better for the country?"
"Kennedy," Kathleen swallowed her quiet answer with her soup, causing Fraser to choke on his food.
Mr Andrews stared at his son, his eyes full of disapproval. Catching his father's irritation, Fraser grinned wolfishly. He swiftly lifted his half-full glass in a sardonic toast, "to Nixon. The finest possible President to grace the sacred halls the White House." After a single clink with his father's glass, he poured the rest down his throat and held his arm out for a refill. The waiter complied.
"Thank you, Harding," Nolan said, eyeing Fraser's wobbly arm. "I think young Mr Andrews should slow down until the main course is over."
Kathleen failed to bite back her grin at Fraser's horrified expression. He frowned at her, picking up her glass while the two senior men were distracted by their political discussion, and dumped the wine into his bourbon.
Her mouth fell open. Before she could react, Mr Andrews asked for her opinion on something she hadn't been listening to.
"Oh. I was always taught never to discuss politics or religion over dinner," she responded with a tight smile, "my parents are under the impression that such a spirited discussion is not only bad for digestion, but too much for an intimate space."
"I would tend to agree, when dining around those with opposing or unknown views," Mr Andrews waved Harding over and gestured to his own empty glass. "However, when all parties agree it is a rather thrilling topic." Distracted by Harding's offer of a selection of alcoholic drinks, he missed the scathing look that had slipped past his son's mask. Almost as fast as it had appeared, the emotive expression on his face was gone.
"Mr Andrews," Nolan turned to the younger man, "what are your plans after graduation? Are you lined up for an Ivy League?"
"Oh, no," John interrupted, "my boy is going straight to work in the company. He won't have everything handed to him on a silver platter. He needs to learn the value of hard work, and in a few years he will have worked his way up from the bottom as I did, when I left my Father's company to build my own."
"Oh, yes," Fraser agreed, stabbing his fork viciously into the main course. " I'll be wealthy again after a few years of labour."
"Hard work is what is missing from the youth of today," his Father continued, "what happened to the American dream? Success is earned. We can't let our kids forget it."
"That is the very philosophy which underpins this school," Nolan waved a hand at the paintings, "tradition, honour, discipline, excellence. The four pillars, as written by the first headmaster, still stand today."
"Respect would be an apt addition."
Fraser's head snapped up.
"In my day," he rumbled on "parents were respected, the family was respected. The surname was not besmirched by teenaged tomfoolery."
"Just this week I had an incident of disrespect," Nolan folded his hands, "a secret club demanding girls attend Welton. The spokesman proceeded to mock the heavenly father. Where they get such ideas remains a mystery. Next, they'll be campaigning for desegregation of private education as well.*"
Kat tensed. The uncomfortable atmosphere intensified as Mr Andrews turned sharply to his son, who went rigid under his harsh gaze.
"Did you have anything to do with this incident," he spat, the cheerfulness drained from his countenance.
"No, Sir."
"It wasn't Fraser, Sir," Kathleen said tentatively, "it was another student."
His face changed, the jagged, icy edges melted into the rounded, joyous confidence of before. Kathleen swallowed nervously. She turned to her grandfather for guidance, but he was busy asking about the issue.
Her eyes caught on the frantic movements of Fraser's hands as he wrung the cloth napkin that lay on his lap. "Don't say anything," he whispered, "not to me. Not to anyone."
"An immigrant girl!" Exclaimed Mr Andrews angrily, "his silly, summer flirtation almost cost us an important business deal, and our reputation!"
"I promise," Kat replied quietly. She tried to distract him from the complaints, but his father's voice was overwhelming as he spouted his backwards views. She took a long gulp of her refilled wine and handed Fraser the remainder when she saw his empty glass.
Fraser met her eyes with silent gratitude and downed the rest. "I don't want to remember this tomorrow," he muttered, slamming the glass down.
"Not to mention the obsession with love," Mr Andrews' drunken rant carried over to the teens once more, shattering the fleeting moment of safety. "Love is for a few months, years if you're lucky, but an alliance is forever. It creates a legacy that can forge love between any couple. What he needs is a nice society girl to screw his head on straight."
"Kathleen is yet to find a match," Nolan placed his cutlery down. "She is more grounded than Cordelia, but more ambitious. University appears to be her next step.
"Hopefully an Ivy league, or perhaps Oxford like my father," Kat added quickly, hoping to steer the conversation onto safer ground.
"A M.R.S degree* is hardly necessary for a woman of your looks and status," chuckled Mr Andrews, "I'm surprised you need to consider it with all the eligible families at Welton." The end of a parsnip flew across the table. Kathleen released her hard grip on her cutlery with an apology that was spoken over. "Your Grandfather told me you missed the debutante ball, surely there is still time to have one on this side of the pond. You may not be presented to the Queen, but you'll be moving in the right circles."
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," Fraser hummed, "some of the boys have taken a shine to her. Dalton seems quite protective."
Kathleen's cheeks were burning as hot as the candelabra aflame above their heads, "he was worried about something he heard like any good friend," she said through gritted teeth. "The real concern is the source of the impropriety."
He glared at her, his mouth pressed into a firm line at her implication. Even saturated with alcohol, he had enough of his wits to recall the accord they had made. He wasn't about to break his end of the bargain while his Father was riled up.
"I hope Mr Andrews was not part of this concern," Nolan's expression was serious. "I was not informed of any problems."
"It was nothing more than teething problems," she reassured him. "But I'm ashamed to admit that this is longest conversation we've had." Kat glanced at the boy on her right, "we move in different circles."
"Is that so?" Mr Andrews addressed his son, "that is disappointing to hear."
"There is no time like the present," Nolan's cool, blue eyes lingered on the teenagers. "Perhaps we shall do this again."
Kathleen's carefully curated expression faltered at his words, an action that was not missed by her Grandfather. His eyebrows knitted together as he studied the pair. For the first time, he began to see the awkwardness between them. His granddaughter was the epitome of a well-mannered, charming young heiress in posture, but she lacked the lively spark he had observed in the girl during regular, evening and weekend mealtimes. Kathleen reminded him of Cordelia increasingly with every passing day. Nolan ignored the vice grip on his heart, concentrating instead on the young Andrews boy talking about his summer internship.
When the last desert spoon was laid down half an hour later, the two teenagers had reached the limits of their patience and self-restraint. Nolan moved the guests back to the reception room where the fire seemed to roar more viciously than before. The heat was stifling, and Mr Andrews' laugh was beginning to give Kat a headache. Their eventual dismissal felt like rain in the desert, and the pair hurriedly left the men to discuss business. They walked back through the darkened halls half-drunk, driven on by the nervous energy that had accumulated over the last two hours.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Kat asked quietly as they turned the corner. All previous hostility towards the taller boy vanishing.
"The isn't much to say," he shrugged, the venom seemingly drained from his weary body. "Her father was our landscaper, and his family lived in the stable conversion so we sort of grew up together, I guess."
"Was?" Kat frowned, "you mean he was fired?"
Fraser nodded, "my parents fired him. I don't know where they went."
"Your friends don't know about this, do they?"
A muscle jumped in his jaw, "no."
"I won't say anything," she promised, "it's not my secret to tell."
He said nothing, choosing instead to point at the door on her right. It was Todd and Neil's room. An echo of laughter escaped from under the door that sounded suspiciously like Meeks.
"Thanks," she said, resting a hand on the door handle as she watched him walk to his own room, and slam the door shut.
The historical accuracy is slightly off concerning the 1960 election. Kennedy formally announced his candidacy in early January 1960, so I thought November 1959 wouldn't be too much of a stretch from the truth. Anyway, keep the reviews coming. I really enjoy hearing your reactions and predictions.
* '...saved us both in twenty-nine' - Reference to The Wall Street Crash, a major US stock market crash and the following financial depression in 1929
* Brown vs. Board of Education (1959) - Segregation in Public schools ruled unconstitutional in the USA. However, desegregation was slow and some small courts fought against this decision for local school districts throughout the 1950s & 1960s. Private schools like Welton would have more control over student admissions through expensive fees and entrance exams.
* 'M.R.S degree' - a slang term for women who attend college with the aim of finding a husband rather than gaining further education