My Fair Lacey

Dancing, Cards and Sinful Thoughts

Chapter 6

The Household

"You've been good for him, I think," Ms. Potts told Lacey one morning. She'd brought out Lacey's breakfast to her. "I'm cleaning up a lot fewer bottles of whiskey since you've been here."

"Really?" Lacey thought the man drank far too much – yet, apparently, this was less than what he had been drinking.

"Uh huh," Ms. Potts continued. "And judging by the used towels, I'm guessing he's showering regularly. He's been one to let his hygiene lapse when he gets into one of his funks."

"Is that a common occurrence?" Lacey asked.

"Common enough. For a while there the only pleasure the man seemed to have was evicting people from their place of business or their apartment."

Lacey could well imagine that especially thinking back to the Mr. Gold of her first lesson. Yes, he had changed a bit - mellowed perhaps.

Ms. Potts hesitated. "I hope I'm not prying or stepping into something that is none of my business . . . but . . . ."

Lacey waited.

"Are you developing feelings for him?" Ms. Potts asked her gently.

Lacey drew back. "Why would you ask that?" she asked, avoiding the question.

"Well, as I said, I don't mean to pry, but I've seen you with him. You're always doing these little nice things for the man. You're fixin' his coffee, pickin' up after him. I know you put some flowers on his desk to brighten the place up. And you bought him some of his favorite peach tarts – he thinks I got them for him and you didn't let on any different."

"I . . . I do like him . . . when he's not being mean, of course."

"He's been hurt, Miss Lacey. I wouldn't want to see him hurt again . . . and . . . well, I wouldn't want you to get hurt either. He's a very difficult man to love."

"I'll keep that in mind, Ms. P. Thanks," Lacey told the older woman.

Dancing

"Can you dance?" he'd asked her one afternoon. The question seemed to come out of the blue. They had been drilling on subject-verb agreement and conjugating regular verbs into the present tense, present perfect tense, past tense, past perfect tense, future tense, and future perfect tense and Lacey thought her head was going to explode.

"Yes, of course," she'd answered quickly – glad for any reprieve from constructing such sentences as "We will have been working on verbs two hours by five o'clock this afternoon."

"I don't mean shaking your nonnies around a pole," Gold clarified snidely. "I mean proper dancing where a man and a woman touch each other. You'll need it for the Governor's Ball."

Lacey closed her eyes. She was not going to get bratty just because he was having one of his meaner moments. "Mr. Madden has been teaching me. He has a friend with the event planning for this Governor's Ball and he found out what music is going to be played, so he's been working with me on proper dancing."

"So, what can you do?"

"I like the waltz," she confessed. "I always thought it was a fuddy-duddy dance, but Mr. Madden's taught me that it's really pretty riské."

"You're using words like 'riské' now?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"I did use it correctly, didn't I?" she cornered him.

"You did, not like when you said someone would have bad 'caramel' for parking in a handicapped spot when they weren't handicapped," he reminded her.

Lacey had to smile at her gaffe. "I read a lot and learned a lot of words, but never had a chance to practice them with anyone."

He smiled back at her. "I guess you weren't exactly hanging around with the brain trust."

She laughed, "I remember one time my boss, Keith, called the pizza delivery place cussing them out, calling them everything but a Methodist, because the pizza he'd ordered had come and it was just crust. Turns out he'd opened the box upside down." She remembered Keith's embarrassment, and - when he realized what had happened, he'd exploded and slapped one of the other girls who had laughed at him.

Gold looked at her a moment and shook his head. He then went over to his vintage record player and put on some music – waltz music. He came over to her and held out his hand. "May I have the pleasure?"

"Can you dance? I mean, with your leg and all?" she hesitated.

"I should be able to last through a single dance," he told her and gave her a slow smile, still standing by her with his hand held out to her.

She looked at him, at his gentle smile, at his hand, and then lifted her own hand, placing it into his. "I'd be delighted," she told him. She felt his arms go around her, his hand on her back.

Oh, my.

He was holding her a lot more closely than gay Mr. Madden ever had, really close. She could feel his strong thighs brushing against hers. And his arms around her clearly let her know who was leading. They were chest to chest and she found herself staring at the little hollow in his neck wondering what he would taste like if she kissed him there.

Wondering what he would do if she tried to kiss him there.

She quickly realized then that the cane was just for show or mostly just for show. He moved smoothly, gracefully and, much to her surprise, she found following his masterful lead easy. Then the pacing of the dance increased and, he pulled her, twirling and whirling, around the room. She found herself breathless. At least, she told herself it was because of the fast pace of the dance. It wouldn't have been the man's closeness.

When the music stopped, they didn't - and it took them both a moment to realize the song was over and a new song, not a waltz tune, had begun.

They stopped and she looked up, locking eyes with him. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment.

Finally, he blinked and then stepped back. "That was nice, Lacey. Very nice." He went over and fixed himself a drink.

Oh lord, he'd fallen into those blue eyes. He'd seriously considered kissing her in that moment when the dance ended, kissing her hard and thoroughly. She had felt so right in his arms, fitting into him perfectly, following his lead without any difficulties. He couldn't help but wonder what sex with her might be like – would she follow his lead there as well as she had with the dance, would she respond to him as well, come for him?

He was in trouble. He had to push her away.

He cleared his throat. "Uhm . . .yes . . . that was . . . uh . . . nice. Very nice," he stammered out, repeating himself. He poured himself a drink.

"Thank you," she told him, part of her waiting for him to say something mean-spirited just to temper his compliment.

"I think . . . I think you may be ready for a test, a real test of how far you've come – the next step in your education program."

"Really?" she was feeling excited. And nervous.

He took a deep gulp of his drink he had to do something to calm himself down. "What I have in mind, won't be easy. You'll be thrown in with people who are experienced in social graces. They've been trained from birth to distinguish wheat from chafe and they will have no hesitation in jumping on any indiscretions, any weaknesses you might show and they will tear you apart, ripping you into tiny shreds and consuming you between them, like sharks on a baby seal. They are true snobs. It will be throwing you into a nest of vipers, worst of which is their Queen, a more evil, manipulative, untrustworthy bitch you'll never meet."

Lacey was now more than nervous. "Where . . . where are you sending me?" she asked.

"My mother's," he answered.

Afternoon Tea and Cards

It was Miss Black's little card playing group. Women would get together every Monday and play bridge and drink tea. It was a cultured affair, by exclusive invitation only, and catering only to the 'already arrived' stratum of society. The attending women would share the concerns of their men at this type of gathering and in turn, these women would influence their men to make certain decisions. The little card playing group was a powerful shadow organization, influencing major decisions, political and business, all from a deceptively sweet, rather attractive, base.

It was fifteen minutes before she expected the first participant to arrive and Miss Black, the matriarch of the group, was most displeased to find her estranged son lounging around in her parlor, picking over the finger foods that had been set out.

"Whatever are you doing here?" she asked her son. "You promised me that you'd never come."

"Well, something came up," Gold responded and began picking over the food.

"Go home at once. My guests are due any time."

"I've come for a purpose," he announced.

"You can't stay. You always say something or do something and offend my friends. And then they stop coming."

"Oh, Mother, you're making a big deal about nothing. People don't mind me."

"They absolutely do," she assured her son.

"Well, be that as it may, I need your help."

"Absolutely not," she replied.

"Hey, I've never come to you for help before and you're always telling me that you want us to be more of a family . . . "

"I've never said anything like that and certainly I don't want you to be here on my card-playing day," she interrupted him.

He ignored her. "This is a phonetic job."

She blinked. "You know I don't have any understanding of your balmy work."

"Well, this isn't a phonetic job," he told her.

"But you just said . . ." she was confused.

He sighed, "Not your part of it. I've picked up a girl, Isabelle Avonlea," he began.

She sat down, "Good lord. Is this a serious relationship?"

Gold pulled a face, "Oh shit, Mother. This isn't a romantic thing."

"Well, why not? The last affair you had was with a woman a decade older than you."

"Oh, Cora. Yes, well, I met her at one of your parties."

"I know," she said dryly. "And that didn't work out. Quelle surprise. I tried to warn you that she was a cougar."

"Yes, Mother."

"And she's to be one of my guests today. If that doesn't scare you off . . ."

"We parted on civil terms."

"Just because neither one of you got a restraining order is hardly evidence of 'civil terms,'" his mother chided him.

"Whatever. It's completely over now," he told her.

"Why can't you find a young woman you do like? There are plenty of them out there."

"Oh, Mother, you know I can't abide young women. They're only concerned with how they look and they watch stupid television shows. Plus, they're all idiots."

"Hmmm," she said. "All right then. Tell me about this girl."

"I picked her up off the streets. She's a masseuse."

Miss Black didn't say anything. When she finally spoke, the disapproval dripped through, "A masseuse?"

"I need her to come here and practice everything I've been teaching her about interacting in public," Rum continued, ignoring his mother.

"Absolutely not."

"She'll be fine. I've been working with her for a couple of weeks. She's under some strict rules about her behavior. She's only to talk about religion and politics."

Miss Black closed her eyes and rubbed her nose bridge. "Religion and politics?" she repeated, appalled.

"Of course not, Mother. Now listen to me. She'll be fine. Madden's been working with me and she's got this amazingly quick ear. She's been quite easy to teach because it's like she's learning a whole new language."

"So, this is good?" his mother asked him.

"Well, yes and no. She's got the pronunciation down but now it's more about what she talks about. She doesn't have a lot of filters and sometimes. . . "

The doorbell rang and Miss Black's man-servant answered it.

It was Cora Hart and her two daughters along with her son, Gaston.

Miss Black stood, abandoning her son to greet her guests. "I see you persuaded Gaston to come," she said to Cora, her voice flat. She didn't approve of men at these gatherings. There were often serious, deep matters to be discussed and resolved and she had not found that men had the temperament for such discussions.

"He's acting as my driver at the moment," Cora explained. Gaston, the young man in question, lounged against the door, obviously bored and feeling put upon by his domineering mother. "He's between jobs right now. I encouraged him to come, hoping he'd impress you and you could let him know if there are any positions available at one of your banks or . . . other businesses."

Now she understood. To her credit, Miss Black was accustomed to her acquaintances asking for jobs for themselves or for family members . . . or friends . . . stray acquaintances . . . current lovers. "Well, I'm sure I can have Cogsworth call him tomorrow to see what might be available." She turned to Gaston. "What sort of training, what skills do you have?" she asked the young man.

"We-ell," Gaston hedged.

"Gaston is more of an idea man," his mother explained on his behalf. "He needs a job where he can be paid for what he knows, not what he does."

"But does he know anything?" Gold asked from the sidelines. He'd been watching the exchange, obviously unimpressed with the young man.

"Oh," Miss Black collected herself. "Cora, I'm sure you remember my son, Rum Gold."

"Of course, I remember Rumple. We ran into each other a little while ago. Took cover from the rain together," Cora said smoothly.

"Ah yes, I'd forgotten that. I was probably drunk," he shared.

"I'm sure you were," Cora agreed.

"Well, never you mind." Miss Black said pointedly, "He was just about to leave."

"Oh, no, Mother. I think I'll make an effort and stay."

His mother wasn't pleased. She smiled, talking through her teeth, "Are you sure you don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled pleasantly. "I am."

"There may not be a place for you. We're playing in groups of four, bridge, spades, and hearts, depending on people's preference," she warned him.

"What? No cribbage?" he challenged her.

She sighed, "If you want, I'm sure I can find a cribbage board if you can find anyone who knows how to play."

Women had begun to arrive and settle in, finding their way to one table or another. There was the well-dressed, but always disapproving Miss Azure, the well-dressed, but pinch-faced Ms. Belfry, the well-dressed, already-drunk Ms. DeVille – all rich, all powerful women, among others.

There were several young people gathered around one of the tables, including Cora's son, Gaston, and her oldest daughter, Zelena. There was also Cora's youngest daughter, a docile brunette, and a pretty but bored blonde, Emma Nolen. They had all sat down at the table when a final guest arrived. Miss Black, ever the gracious hostess, greeted her at the door and offered her a drink.

"You must be Miss Avonlea. My son has been telling me all about you. What can I get you to drink?"

Lacey was surprised that this elegant, lovely woman was Professor Gold's mother. She didn't look old enough to have a son Professor G's age. Lacey spoke slowly, "Thank you so much for having me at your gathering. I will just have some sweet tea, please."

"We have some other young people here. Why don't you join them?" And Miss Black led her over to the table of four younger guests.

"Wow," Gaston said in awe, as he eyed the petite brunette walking with his hostess (He clearly did not recognize her from the rainy afternoon they'd spent under the canopy together.) Lacey was dressed demurely, in a full skirt and close-fitting knit top. Her long dark hair had been curled and pulled away from her face to trail down her back. Gaston stood as she came over. The group was left to their own devices by the hostess.

"Too late, too late, too many at this table," his older sister complained, shaking her head.

"I'm sure we can work something out. I'm Gaston," he introduced himself.

"I'm Belle," she told him, giving her real name, and nervously sitting down, taking his seat.

"Hi, I'm Emma," said the pretty blonde smiling at her. "I'm here because my parents make me come."

"And I'm Regina," said the attractive brunette. "Same reason. My mother makes me come. How do you know Miss Black?"

"I'm friends with her son," Lacey answered, still obviously nervous.

Emma looked around the room at the man who was filling his plate from the buffet.

"The hot, older guy?" she asked.

"Uhm," Lacey wasn't sure how to answer. "The man over there."

"Yeah," Regina agreed. "The hot, older guy."

"I'm Zelena," Gaston's sister spoke up. She had glanced over and recognized Mr. Gold. "Oh, he's one of mommy's ex-lovers," she announced. "I'm here because I enjoy playing cards. We have too many to play bridge."

Lacey looked ill at ease. She'd had a total of two lessons on Bridge playing and had learned enough to recognize that she was not ready for prime time play. "I'm not very good at bridge. You can deal me out."

"Oh no," Gaston protested. He'd pulled another chair up to the table and sat down with them. "Perhaps there's another game you'd prefer? Spades, Hearts?"

Lacey shook her head. "Oh no, please. I only know one other card game really well . . . and, well, we could play it with five people." She looked at the group, "If you're interested, I could teach you."

The other members of the group looked at each other and shrugged. Zelena started to protest but her younger sister suggested she could play or find another table. Hesitantly, Lacey began to explain while she dealt the cards.

Gold walked over to the group so that he could overhear the conversation.

"You use your hole cards and these shared cards to make the best hand you can," Lacey was explaining. "And you can see how you don't always actually need the best hand to win if you can convince everyone else you've got a great hand and get them to fold."

"So, tell me again what beats a . . . a full house?" Regina asked.

Gold bit back a smile - as long as his mother didn't find out. He was curious however to find out if they had found anything to bet.

His mother joined him as he watched his protégé. He stepped between his mother and a good view of the table.

"She is lovely, Rum. If you hadn't told me about her background, I don't know that I would have guessed anything out of the ordinary."

"Well, there are still some rough edges," he admitted. "Heard from Father?" he asked to distract her.

"Well . . ." his mother floundered. "Would you count unopened letters, deleted emails or unanswered telephone calls as contacts?"

He considered, "Yeah, I think I might."

"Then . . . no. Not a word. Last I heard he was taking a vacation, and when I say vacation, I mean he's hunkered down in some high-priced sanitarium. I'd heard he'd had a breakdown, but I suspect drug use."

"Maybe a breakdown and drug use," Rum speculated.

His mother nodded in agreement. She gave him a wan smile and re-joined her own table of card-players. Gold kept an eye on his mother and drifted back over to Lacey's table.

Apparently, everyone had folded on this last hand, except Lacey and Gaston.

"How about if I win, we take my Ferrari and I get to drive you home," the young man offered.

"How about if I win, we take your Ferrari and I get to drive myself home in it," Lacey counter-offered.

"Oh, nobody drives that car of his but him," Zelena protested.

"It's a bet," Gaston said.

Stunned that he would be agreeable to Lacey's proposition, Zelena continued to protest, "You'd risk letter her drive it! Hell, you don't even like to let me ride in it."

"I've told you I'm not a taxi service. If I take you for a ride, I expect to be paid," Gaston impatiently told her.

Regina, Emma, and Lacey all glanced at each other.

"You sure you understand how this taxi service thing works?" Emma asked him under her breath.

Gaston ignored her and nodded to Lacey.

"It's a bet," and he revealed his cards. "A straight," he announced and reached into his pocket to pull out his keys.

Lacey smiled and revealed her hole cards. "Four of a kind, sir." And she held out her hands for the keys.

Gaston, to his credit, looked at the cards, then nodded. "I think I'm still winning. I get to ride home with you."

"I have to let Miss Black know I am leaving," Lacey told him before they stepped away. She spoke briefly with the hostess who might have been relieved when her son's protégé had not over-stayed her welcome.

Gold decided to join the three young ladies after Gaston and Lacey had made their exit. They welcomed him and sat smiling at him.

"What are we playing, ladies?" he asked, idly shuffling the deck.

"Oh, I don't know. I think now bridge is going to be boring," Emma told him.

"Like it wasn't before?" Regina asked.

"We could continue playing . . . what did that girl call it?" Zelena suggested.

"Texas hold'em," Regina answered. "And her name was Belle."

"Oh, ladies. I don't know," Gold began. "To make the game interesting we'd have to have something to bet. Pennies would work or . . . " he hesitated.

"How about a date with you?" Zelena interrupted.

"I'm in. I'm seeing someone but it's not serious," Emma told him.

"Likewise," said Regina.

Gold sat back. A blonde, a brunette, and a redhead. All young, very pretty . . . and he wasn't interested in any of them. The blonde seemed more spirited than the other two (but she hadn't grown up with Cora as her mother). Zelena repelled him with her open lasciviousness and Regina, well, he had never quite let go of the possibility that she might be his daughter.

"I'm duly flattered, but what happens if I win?" he asked.

"You could date all of us . . . at the same time," Regina offered.

He had a little difficulty swallowing. "I wouldn't survive it, ladies."

"They got drugs for that now, you know," Zelena shared and he felt her foot he guessed it was her foot on his ankle. He pulled back, sitting up straight, and pushed back from the table. "Maybe another time." He smiled and gave his mother a wave before fleeing the scene.

Phone Follow-Up

He was expecting The Phone Call. His mother was . . . upset.

"Your little trollop taught my friend's children how to play poker!"

"Who better?" he asked. "Mother, they all had a good time – for a change. Nobody got hurt or even lost anything."

"But honestly, Rum. Poker?!"

"Hey, those girls are hardly little innocents. After Belle and Gaston left, I got well and truly propositioned." That ought to deflect her concerns about Lacey.

"Oh god, please tell me you are not going to go out on a date with any one of those girls? You're old enough to be their father."

"That would make you old enough to be their . . . what's the word? . . . oh yes, their grandmother," he was enjoying himself.

"Don't come around again!" she snapped at him. "You're not welcome!" and she hung up.

Well, that went well.

NEXT: Rumple and Belle struggle to deal with their growing feelings for each other. Jefferson's wedding, too much to drink and encountering someone from Lacey's past, pushes Gold into action.