III. The Everglots, Part 2
"After you," Victor said, stepping back to let Victoria enter ahead of him. The look she gave him wasn't exactly a grateful one as she stepped into the room and inclined her head at her parents. Victor fell into place at her side, though slightly behind her, and regarded his in-laws.
Finis was propped up on that ridiculously high chair of his. Instead of serving as a distraction from the height difference between himself and his wife, the strange chair simply made it all the more obvious. Maudeline was on her usual perch, a regal armchair right next to the fireplace. The drawing room itself--with several mirrors in gilt frames, stately chairs and sofas that had the air of being for show and not for sitting on, a rich-looking carpet with matching draperies, and an absolutely enormous mahogany sideboard--showed off the Everglot wealth. Or, more precisely, the Van Dort wealth. That is, if one were inclined to quibble about such things. Which Victor was, when he wasn't feeling particularly charitable.
The atmosphere in the drawing room was distinctly uncomfortable. As usual, Victor and Victoria were both being received with definite frostiness. Neither Finis nor Maudeline bothered to return Victoria's little greeting. The silence started to stretch--again with the wordless battles of the aristocracy. It was Maudeline's prerogative as lady of the house to keep visitors (be they relatives or not), standing uncomfortably in her drawing room for as long as she wished. For Victor or Victoria, as visitors, to break the silence would be unthinkable (Victor'd learned that little rule the hard way). Pointedly, Maudeline took a completely unperturbed sip of her tea, while Finis glared rather moodily into the middle distance. Victor, for lack of anything else to do, amused himself by trying to guess what sort of animal had donated those enormous antlers that were mounted on the far wall.
"You can leave, Emile," Finis said, making a shooing motion with his hand. Emile nodded curtly and scurried back to the door, closing it behind him with a snap. As soon as the butler was gone, Maudeline set her teacup down on a convenient end table.
"Do sit down," she said, gesturing at the sofa across from herself and her husband. "I'll ring the maid to bring in more tea." Her tone suggested that tea was merely being offered as a formality. Furthermore, were Victor and Victoria to accept said tea, they were sad, pathetic people who couldn't be bothered to hire enough help or to care enough about their social standing to invite others over for tea at their own house. Victor admittedly only had half an ear on the conversation, but that's what he read into what Maudeline said.
"Thank you, Mother, but we had our teatime with Victor's parents. We wouldn't want to impose," Victoria replied in an even, polite tone. Meaning, Victor was pretty sure, that Victoria would like nothing more than to tell her mother in very certain terms exactly what she could do with her invitation for tea. Again, though, Victor wasn't really paying strict attention, so he could have been wrong.
"Do we, Victor?" Victoria asked, turning to him. Her voice took a moment to register.
"Elk, I think," Victor said absently. After a second he was aware that everyone was staring at him, Maudeline and Finis with narrowed eyes. Feeling a faint blush starting to rise on his cheekbones, Victor scuffled his feet a bit. "Er, I mean, no. Of course not," he said to the floor.
"Very well, then," Maudeline replied. "Do sit." Again she stabbed her hand imperiously at the sofa. Head held high, Victoria walked over and sat on the very edge of the sofa. Victor followed, and tried not to slide on the slippery horsehair as he sat down. Out of habit he allowed himself to hunch forward a bit, elbows on his knees. It wasn't until Victoria gave him a gentle nudge that he realized he should probably be sitting up straight. So he sat as tall as he could, trying to look like Mr. Van Dort, the Son-In-Law.
Though posture didn't help much in attempting to convey that image, if the looks on his in-laws' faces were anything to judge by. To them, he would always be a lanky ninny from the wrong side of the town's walls who blushed and jabbered about elks whenever anyone spoke to him. That, or just a faceless bank account. Again Victor had to wonder why he cared. He had no idea. But he did. Let's just get this over with, he thought. Then we can go home, where it's normal--where we're a good two miles from anybody else. The thought of going back home with Victoria and her little passenger was a heartening one. He could get through this--Victoria'd managed to spend two hours with his parents without complaint, after all.
"Well," Victor began, in as bright a voice as he could manage. He even went so far as to give Maudeline and Finis a big smile. A smile that, soon enough, faltered under the icy looks that his in-laws were giving him. Why, why didn't we just send a telegram...Clearing his throat, Victor tried not to let his discomfort show.
"Victoria and I have news for you. You see..." At that, he turned to Victoria with another smile, this time a proud one. He couldn't help it, just as Victoria couldn't help returning it. Even under these circumstances, the thought of being parents made them both just slightly giddy. And Victor was undeniably happy. Which of course couldn't be tolerated in Maudeline's drawing room. As though to prove it, Maudeline cut Victor off with another imperious wave of her hand.
"Yes, yes, we know all about it," Maudeline said. "Your mother let us know. Why she felt the need to, however, is completely beyond me." She looked at Victor as though he'd given Nell a telephone--with explicit instructions to ring up the Everglots as frequently as possible.
"Oh," Victor replied. Somehow, that didn't seem like enough of an answer. So Victor decided, wondering what had happened to his determination to let Victoria do the talking, to do what he did best--ramble.
"So then, you know already...Er yes--by the beginning of October, it seems...We're--Victoria and I, of course--are very happy, really very much looking forward to a child...and, well...that's our news." When no response was offered, Victor scratched the back of his neck and looked over at Victoria. That was really all he had. So Victoria took over, speaking quickly.
"We thought we'd let you know...er, though Victor's mother has beaten us to it...Still, though, we both wanted you to know that we're--well, I'm--expecting a child, and that...we're very happy about it," Victoria finished lamely. Victor was a bit surprised by how...well, Victor-ish she sounded. Evidently he had taught her some bad conversational habits over the past three years. At a loss, Victor and Victoria shared a slightly desperate look before turning back to Finis and Maudeline, who were both wearing completely impassive expressions. Again, no congratulations or handshakes or embraces--not even an acknowledging nod. Honestly. Didn't anybody besides Victor and Victoria care?
Apparently not, because Finis picked up the conversation from Maudeline's last comment, as though neither of them had said a word. "She probably just wants to be able to say that she had a telephone conversation with an Everglot. Upstarts, those Van Dorts..." he grumbled into his teacup. Victor felt Victoria tense up next to him.
"Well really, though, what do you expect from people with no breeding?" Maudeline asked in return. It was as though Victor and Victoria weren't even in the room. "Besides," Maudeline continued, lifting her teacup again, "if the woman feels she must speak to an Everglot, why doesn't she bother Victoria instead of me?"
"We don't have a telephone," Victor said helpfully. Victoria shot him a look, and then turned to her mother.
"I'm a Van Dort now, Mother," she pointed out. "And my son or daughter will be one, as well. And be proud to be one." Victor was warmed by that comment, even though he doubted how sincere it was. Really, who would want to be a Van Dort? Even Van Dorts didn't really want to be Van Dorts. Regardless, it was a nice sentiment, and Victor couldn't help smiling a little.
Victoria's words seemed to be just the thing to re-announce her and Victor's presence. Maudeline appeared to be restraining herself from rolling her eyes. Finis, on the other hand, had gone back to his moody staring, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. Finally Victoria's nerve faltered, and she looked down at the floor. Her jaw was still set, however, and she was sitting as though she had an iron pole down her back instead of a spine. Victor let himself hunch forward again. At this point, who cared?
Then, quite out of the blue, Maudeline practically barked, "Well, don't just sit there staring at the carpet, Victoria. Are you ill at all? Do you need anything?" Victor watched as Victoria looked up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Even though Maudeline's tone had given the distinct impression that the answers to those questions should be "No" and "Nothing at all," the point was that she'd asked. Coldly, dismissively, and almost detached, but she'd asked. Victor was floored. Positively floored.
"Er..." Victoria seemed to be just as stunned as Victor. After a moment she managed to collect herself, and she said, sounding almost touched, "No, thank you, Mother--we don't need anything at the moment. And I'm not ill at all. Er, thank you for asking."
Victor kept his mouth shut out of consideration for how much this starkly out of character show of semi-concern on Maudeline's part obviously meant to Victoria, but the fact was that Victoria had just told a bit of a fib. "Not ill at all" indeed--she'd spent most of her time during the past month or so dreadfully sick to her stomach (which apparently was normal, according to Mrs. Reed, though Victor couldn't quite imagine why). In fact, she'd been sick that very morning. Of course, that really wasn't the sort of thing that one went about discussing freely.
Maudeline nodded curtly, apparently satisfied. "Congratulations then, I suppose." She looked sideways at Finis, who was shifting rather uncomfortably in his chair. Obviously this was a not a topic he was at ease with. "Congratulate them, Finis," Maudeline said. Finis tapped his fingers against his armrest a few times before he cleared his throat and said through clenched teeth,
"Yes, congratulations. We're ever so happy for you both." That last came out in a very strained tone of voice, as though Finis's vocal chords were seizing up in protest against being pleasant.
"Thank you," Victoria said, allowing herself a tiny smile at her parents. It was rewarded with an icy glare from her mother, and Victoria quickly looked down at the floor again.
"Yes, thank you," Victor added. He was still a bit dazed by this visit. Who would have thought that Maudeline actually...well, cared? Er, sort of? Victor found himself feeling especially happy for Victoria, even as he realized that this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime show of maternal concern. But he was sure that Victoria could live with that much, if the pleased look on her face was an indication.
"I don't think I need to bother calling Emile to show you out," Maudeline said, dismissing them bluntly.
Finis looked at her. "Why not? What are you talking about--he's the butler, that's his job."
Maudeline waved her hand dismissively. "I'm merely acknowledging the fact that our daughter and her husband prefer to conduct themselves as would a middle-class clerk and his wife," she explained with a quite audible sniff. "Butlers are a bit much for that sort, don't you agree?"
Victor shook his head. Maudeline lost no time making up for her earlier show of semi-pleasantness. She and Finis both very much enjoyed calling Victor and Victoria "middle-class," since their house was modest, they only had two servants, and they actually liked one another. The insult sort of lost its impact after two years of almost continuous delivery, though, so Victor and Victoria merely stood up without acknowledging that they'd heard what Maudeline had said.
"Well then," Victoria said, taking Victor's arm. "Goodbye." Victor raised his hand as a farewell, and the two of them turned and walked out of the drawing room.
As soon as the door was closed behind them, they both paused, staring at one another.
"Could you believe that?" Victor asked, still feeling incredulous. He shook his head again and stared at the closed door.
"Oh, you know Mother says things like that. I'm not excusing her, but...Well, don't let your feelings be hurt, dear," Victoria said, patting his arm.
"No, that wasn't what I meant," Victor replied. "Your mother, she was...pleasant, there for a second or two. Almost."
Victoria nodded. "Strange, wasn't it? I almost fainted." She too looked at the door for a moment, as though thinking. "Why don't we go home?" Victoria said, taking his arm again.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Victor said. "And you're sure your mother didn't upset you at all?" it suddenly occurred to him to ask.
"Not any more than usual," was the reply. Victor knew that however irritated Victoria might have been with her mother, that fleeting display in the drawing room had made up for rather a lot.
The two of them crossed the mammoth entry in thoughtful silence, their footsteps echoing in the gloom. Then, suddenly, Victoria took several deep breaths. Victor looked down at her to see that she had a hand on her stomach again.
"Victoria, are you certain you're all right?" he asked in a low voice. He didn't want the question to echo back and be heard in the drawing room. Or by Emile, who was already at his post by the front door. Victoria nodded without looking at him.
"Yes, I'm certain," she answered, sounding anything but. "Can we hurry, please?" She immediately quickened her step, and Victor had to trot a few paces to catch up with her. He wasn't sure why she wanted to rush.
Emile held out Victoria's wrap, which she took wordlessly without waiting for Victor to help her. She really was in a hurry. He took his own overcoat from the butler and pulled it on. Victor kept an eye on Victoria as he did so. She looked...well, not very good. Had the conversation in the drawing room upset her more than she'd been willing to admit? No, he decided. She would have told him when he'd asked--her bravado didn't stretch all that far. Victor thought back. Come to think of it, she'd had that same look right before they'd entered the house. She'd attributed it to nerves, and he'd believed her. But now he noticed that Victoria looked particularly...green. Yes, that was it. Green.
Oh no.
Victor realized what was going to happen about two seconds before it did. He reached out and put a hand on Victoria's shoulder, meaning to lead her outside as quickly as possible. He didn't make it. At that very moment, Victoria turned and vomited spectacularly all over Emile's shoes.
There was a very long pause. Victor covered his mouth with his hand. How terrible, he thought. And yet, oddly fantastic at the same time. After a moment Victor pulled himself together enough to rub Victoria's shoulder as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket.
"Oh, Victoria..." he said sympathetically, handing her the handkerchief. She nodded her thanks and then set about wiping her mouth, being as ladylike as she could under the circumstances.
"I am...I'm sorry," Victoria mumbled into the handkerchief. She was blushing just the slightest bit. Emile was just stood there, looking shocked as he stared at his feet.
Quietly, slowly, Victor pulled open the door himself and helped Victoria out. As soon as she was on the front steps, he slowly backed out the door. Before pulling the door shut, Victor peered around it at Emile. The butler still hadn't moved, his mouth seemingly frozen in gaping surprise.
Victor looked at Emile, then at the puddle of sick that Emile was standing in. Finally he swallowed, feeling faintly ill himself.
"Er...Have a nice day," Victor said, as politely and sweetly as he could. With that, he quietly closed the door.
